#The Temptations- Just My imagination From The Movie

[musictyme]

The Temptations - Just My Imagination From The Movie

[artdcnaldson]

in the sex lessons au, reader was definitely introduced to porn by patrick. i bet he also gave her massages that “required” her to take off her shirt and bra and always ended up with his hands on her nipple….

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (mutual masturbation, exhibitionism kinda, more manipulative perverts but that’s par for the course)

A/N: how did you know I eat this up. I wrote a 3 part Steve Harrington fic with this exact plot like…. This is my bread and butter simply. Unedited sozz

It was easy to succumb to temptation when it was just the three of you— holed up in Art’s dorm, hidden away from the rest of the world.

A few cans of beer, cold from his mini fridge, the warm press of your legs on top of Patrick’s, of Art’s chest against your back. There’s a movie playing on Art’s laptop— some shitty action movie he’d rented for the three of you.

“Have you ever watched porn?” Patrick asks you bluntly.

Your eyes widen in surprise. “What? No— websites like that give you computer viruses, and stuff.” Art laughs, his body shaking with it. You suppose it is a little childish, but you’re being completely earnest. “What? Doesn’t it?”

Patrick laughs, shakes his head. “If that were true I would’ve gone through a thousand computers by now.”

You grimace, toss an empty beer can at him. “You’re so fucking gross.”

But Patrick just laughs, takes another swig of his beer, leans forward curiously. “So… I mean, do you just use your imagination when you’re touching yourself?”

Heat burns in your cheeks, and you roll your eyes. “Shut up.”

“Well, how do you know what you need to imagine if you’ve never seen anyone fucking? Is it just sweet kisses and hand holding?”

You kick him and Art comes to your defense like the sweetest knight in shining armor. “C’mon, Patrick, leave her alone.” Art’s hand is splayed across your tummy— firm, warm, protective. Patrick pretends like he doesn’t hear him, leans closer.

“I wanna know what innocent little fantasies you get off to. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” It’s hard to resist Patrick when he’s so close, when Art’s so close, when you feel warm and dizzy all over.

You sigh softly, relishing as he presses his warm body against your side, so it’s Patrick and Art and you sandwiched hot between them. “You realize you’re being a major fucking perv, right?” You ask in a low tone, meeting his gaze through your lashes. He nods, and you’re so conscious of his hand between your knees as his eyes bear into yours. But he wants you to continue, so you swallow and go on. “I dunno, sometimes it’s not about a fantasy. It’s just about me wanting some stress relief, or, like, my body needing it and it’s too hard to ignore.”

Art’s fingers flex against your stomach and you take a slow breath. “But, I mean, I guess I fantasize about being desired, like, taken care of I guess,” you mumble, mortified that you’re admitting it.

Patrick grins, runs his thumb along the inside of your knee. “That’s so sweet.” You roll your eyes, take a long drink, and try to ignore the heat in your stomach. “Do you want to see what Art likes to watch?”

Art’s eyes go wide, and he shakes his head. “No, no, we’re not doing that,” he says firmly. Patrick brushes him off, ignoring his pleas as he grabs the laptop and pulls up his trusty porn site. You peer over Patrick’s shoulder, eyes going wide as he opens to the home page, to all the recommended videos.

Your jaw drops, just a bit, and you let your eyes rake over the screen. It’s all right there— flagrant. Pretty girls with dicks in their mouths, pussies, hands. Lewd titles, the preview videos playing brief glimpses of obscenity.

“Aww, Art, this is so adorable,” Patrick teases as he scrolls. “Girl best friend deepthroats like a champ. Morning lovemaking ends in creampie.” Art mumbles something against your shoulder, blushing so hard you can feel the heat emanating from his skin.

Patrick clicks the latter and it opens to slow, deep kissing. A mess of tongues, rife with need. You know it’s normal to watch, to an extent— a right of passage, or whatever. But watching it feels so voyeuristic, so invasive. Especially when you’re practically in Art’s lap, when Patrick’s hands are hot against your skin.

Patrick gets bored of soft kissing and wandering hands and skips five minutes ahead in the video. By the time the buffering catches up, they’re fucking onscreen, all slow and sweet. Still kissing, still holding hands. But you also see the way the man’s cock sinks into her, can hear the moaning, the wet sounds of her body taking him in.

Art exhales a shaky breath against your skin, makes you shiver. He’s hard, you can feel that clearly against you, and you know he’s provably fucking mortified over it. But he doesn’t move to turn off the video, doesn’t do anything. His hand twitches against your stomach and you realize he’s still holding you.

The video is short— too short, you decide. The man finishes, you get a close up of the woman’s pussy, of cum dripping from her entrance. It makes your face burn, makes desire burn equally as hot as your embarrassment. The video ends, and Patrick stops auto play.

“Art, that shit is so fucking boring.” It snaps your attention from the paused screen over to him, who seems completely unaffected. You might actually believe he was unaffected if he wasn’t visibly hard.

You peer over at Patrick curiously. “What do you watch?”

He smiles, like he’d been waiting for you to ask, and grabs the laptop. Art makes a weak complaint that Patrick is going to fuck up his recommendations, but is ignored. Patrick logs in to an account and opens a tab for liked and saved videos.

Oh. You lean forward for a better look, expression twisting between shock and interest and confusion and disgust. Patrick’s tastes vary widely— venturing into areas you hadn’t even known were sexual. It’s like he had thrown everything at the wall to see what would stick, and everything just stuck.

“Oh my god, Patrick,” Art mutters, equally as intrigued as you are. “What the fuck, dude.” Art steals the laptop, scrolling through thumbnails of feet and anal and gangbangs and piss and bdsm dungeons and girls in stupid fucking schoolgirl costumes.

Patrick grabs the laptop back roughly, scrolls and clicks. “This one’s good, it’s perfect for when you just want to cum fast. Art, I know you don’t have that problem.”

Art flips him off and looks at the screen, reading the title aloud. “One hour squirting and cumshot compilation. Could you be any grosser?”

“Yes, actually. Sorry I don’t watch your sweet lovemaking bullshit.” Patrick shoves him, then Art shoves him back, and suddenly the laptop is on the floor in front of you and you’re just watching while they squabble on either side of you.

The video is exactly as described— it skips all of the pretense, all of the build up. It’s just people cumming, over and over and over. Your body feels like a live wire as you watch, lit up all over.

You squeeze your thighs together, conscious of the heat and wetness between them. Patrick clocks it— of course he does. A smirk plays at his lips.

“Maybe it’s not so disgusting, Art. She likes it.” Patrick relishes in the hazy, innocent look in your eyes as you meet his gaze. Relishes in the embarrassment and the need. “It’s good, huh? Getting to watch?”

You nod and Patrick takes your hand, slips it beneath the waistband of your shorts. “Go ahead. You want to.”

You shiver, temptation itching down to your fingertips. Sensing your hesitation, Patrick spits into his hand, slips it into his own shorts. You manage to hold out a few more seconds before you let your fingers brush over your clit.

“C’mon Art, don’t be a fucking creep,” Patrick says, moaning as he works his fist faster. Art swears under his breath and quickly shoves his own hand into his boxers.

You’re all so close, bodies pressed together hot and firm. You can feel the way their bodies move with each stroke, the way their thighs tense as they instinctually buck into their fists.

You moan, head falling against Art’s shoulder. His hand splays against you, inches up, brushing against the underside of your tit. It makes you whimper.

Patrick grabs your face, redirects your attention back to the screen. “Keep watching, it’s getting good.” His voice is strained, affected.

He usually lasts longer than this when he’s in your hand or your mouth, but maybe the video really was that good. Surely it didn’t have anything to do with you, panting and writhing as you rubbed at your clit beside him.

For once, Patrick cums first— doubling over, groaning muffled into your hair. Then it’s Art, whining so pretty, pulling you closer, mouthing at your shoulder as he comes down. And then you, overwhelmed by the two boys on either side of you, cumming with a rush of wetness that ruins your already soaked panties.

You sit there panting as the video continues playing— obscene wet, lewd sounds, wanton moans. Art hits stop, shuts the laptop and kicks it away.

You wonder why every time you hang out with them, it always seemed to end like this. And you wonder why you don’t mind, not even a little bit.

[theother-victoria]

Mr reca word vomit bc the brain worms won’t leave my brain!!! I promise I’m Very Sane abt this man

TAGS: not proofread, written before his release so potentially ooc and I’m too lazy to rewrite it post-release, secret relationship trope, reader wears lipstick, making out eheheheheh, reader is smaller/shorter than him, this is my propaganda and sign for u to become a reca kisser too

TAGLIST: @akutasoda, @https-sourlimes, @tragedy-of-commons, @mitsvriii (putting you on the reca kisser agenda >:3), @harque, @hazyue, @gabile18, @khoncore, @moineauz

Ok so imagine being in a secret relationship with the man himself…

Like the two of you HATE each other’s guts in public. As a rival film producer, the public loves to pit your films against each other, and the two of you as well apparently. There have been so many instances of you making small digs and sly remarks toward each other during interviews that it’s become somewhat expected by now. You have a gripe with the pacing of his films and his fame. He has a bone to pick with your cinematography.

“That manic director’s most recent film? I would give my thoughts, but unfortunately I fell asleep not even halfway through.”

“That uninspired, dreadfully dull and artistically lacking director? All their films look the same. I couldn’t differentiate them even if I wanted to.”

No matter how critically acclaimed your work is, he always has something to say about it.

Even if it was in the back of an alley with his hands gripping your hips tightly and teeth nipping at your neck.

"It took until a quarter of the way through the movie before- hah- your cinematography finally showed some signs of thought put into the shots. I know you can do better than this. So why- mmph- did it take you so long?"

You angrily nip on his bottom lip. A flash of satisfaction runs through you when you hear him hiss and taste blood on the tip of your tongue.

“Like you’re one to talk with the horrendous pacing of your newest film! Tell me, what was the plot of it again? Because I- mmm!?- already forgot the direction it was supposed to be taking twenty minutes in!”

"Well, you just simply lack reading comprehension. Not my fault, of course.”

“Oh, you little piece of-!”

He shuts you up with a rough and messy kiss. Your legs immediately go jelly and were it not for his leg slotted between yours and pushing you up against the wall, you think you would’ve collapsed right there and then.

When he pulls away, your lips are glossy and swollen. There’s a dazed look in your eyes that makes him smirk in satisfaction and without any hesitation, he pulls out his camera to take a few shots.

“Yes, yes, wonderful! That expression really suits you!”

Anger looks good on you, but he much rather prefers this expression.

He leans in for another kiss and because you can’t say no to him, you indulge him- until you hear footsteps nearby. You hurriedly clamp your hand over his mouth and wait until they’re gone before glaring at him.

“Stop running your mouth so much in public! You’ll give us away at this point!”

“Then stop being so loud,” he hisses back, though he’s in no better state than you, his-already-disheveled hair an absolute mess now from you gripping it. His flushed face is littered with lipstick marks and you can’t resist the temptation to add a few more.

“Cheeky, aren’t you?” he huffs out as you place a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. A soft kiss to his eyelid makes his eyes flutter shut and an affectionate sigh escape him. He smells of the chemicals used to develop film and strong coffee…

Then there’s a gasp and the undeniable sound of a camera shutter going off. Caught red handed.

You pull apart from him with a surprised gasp and expression. Strangely, he doesn’t look fazed at all. Still as smug as ever.

You whirl around to see an equally-shocked photographer standing there. Paparazzi, from the looks of it. He was probably going around and looking for some potential shots before accidentally stumbling upon something that would make front-page headlines. When you look back at him, then at the photographer, there’s even more people now snapping away at the two of you in a compromising position.

With the damage already done, you try to leave before he stops you. His jacket resting on your shoulders dwarfs your smaller frame and he yanks on the film strip belt to reel you back in. The crowd of photographers has doubled now, murmuring excitedly to themselves.

“Wh- let go! The paparazzi are having a field day-!”

He silences you with a swift kiss and a pinch to the inner thigh. The cameras flash even more rapidly now.

“Let them see for all I care.”

enjoyed this? my taglist is open!

@ theother-victoria, do not copy, repost, modify, translate, or feed to ai

[writella]

Reckless Romantics

Synopsis: Can be read as a stand alone or part two to getting ready for me; a return to innocent, inexperienced!reader and her relationship with Rick Grimes; two weeks after their first time together there has been some distance, but now Rick wants to make up for how hasty he was when he touched her last.

Details: Rick Grimes x fem!reader, smut: oral (f receiving) and teaching reader how to give a handjob, unspecified (of age) age gap, sweetness + kissing + a little mutual pining maybe, probably cliche, and leaning more into Rick as the dutiful leader and gentle lover (I feel this is just as in character as dom!Rick). Reader is a music lover— any kind of music you like— but she also likes a specific band only because I watched a documentary about them at the theater in July so it made its way into the story. Slightly proofread— will be corrected more later. wc: 5-7k (I lost track after finishing it on tumblr).

A/N: I wrote this message before I returned for the summer, but I still want you to read it: Been spending time outside this summer, trying to reach some goals— time got away from me. I don’t think I’ll ever stop saying I miss you, but please know it’s always true.

— with love from writella, my beautiful reader. ♡

Rick Grimes was not a man to give in to temptation.

My mercy prevails over my wrath, he’d say— his secret keepsake phrase. The one he whispers to himself in moments of hardship; the one he uses when he needs to make decisions only a leader would. Rick was a man of discipline; honor. He never boasted about how seriously he took these qualities, but when others did— admired, applauded, stuck by him for it— it would be a lie to say that he didn’t take note and use their pride to keep him going. This is how he knows he is strong-willed, why he wouldn’t fall for foolish, forbidden things. He was better than that. The safety and prosperity he brought to Alexandria proved it, reaffirmed it.

So why couldn’t someone remind him of that two weeks ago before he touched you?

As for you, you believed yourself to be a girl who wouldn’t fall so easily for the first man who showed you any kind of affection.

From an adolescence of peers who never seemed to take notice of you to one filled with walkers and adults who were either dead or seldom your age, you learned how hard love, let alone any connection, is to come by. It has made you quite the perpetual daydreamer because of it. One with a heart and mind filled with fantasy worlds, creating what you lacked externally. It often made you see yourself as much younger than you were despite all you’ve been through. No regular person your age in the old world has probably escaped as many deaths and wannabe cowboy dictators as you have. Still, they probably knew what it was like to have a high school romance, or at least go to the movies with friends, and have graduated from well, anything. You were simply born too late and shoved into this new world too early to experience even half of it.

This upbringing has brought you up to believe yourself precocious, although— maybe you were already too old for that word now. No, you were, so maybe– sensible, realistic despite the overactive imagination; you could decipher between right and wrong, real versus fake. This is why, for as long as you could, you did not entertain any thoughts of Rick Grimes.

Other people would though, women mostly. But you did have your suspicions of others who thought the same— they just weren't as shameless. Those who were, could be found during lunch breaks from work on house porches; or laughing and whispering at community gatherings and at the back of town hall meetings. Basically any time or place they could turn into a gossip session, which was often. And it didn’t always have to do with Rick. It could be about any one of the men in town; or retelling funny moments to their friends or complaining about their co-workers. But anything of true, great interest always had to do with the community leaders. You wish you could say you were the exception to this interest, but hypocritically, you loved a good inside scoop, and luckily for you, you had a trustworthy way about you. Almost everyone who spoke to you or allowed you to sit with them and their friends for meals agreed: you were a intent, quiet listener making you the best kind of person to say things to without judgment; and people assumed you as shy, yet you loved to laugh which was great for boosting egos. They often treated you as a little sister in that way, as if the pleasure was all yours to get to hear their ramblings because they were either older or perceived themselves to be more sociable and experienced than you. You tried not to care too much about what they took you for. It was nice to feel trusted, even if people could be a little too mean or weird for your liking because no matter who it was, they made you feel as if you were watching television, and you missed television. They told you things from period mishaps– (it’s the apocalypse, there are a lot of free bleeding queens okay)— to which people in their workstations annoyed them most with very detailed explanations as to why and, of course, rumors or general talk about the leaders: who they thought each of them has slept with, if there seemed to be any fighting between them and what side they were taking, and obviously, anything that had to do with one of the guys. Some were downright obvious that one or the other was their type, while others might try to be more sly about it, always bringing whichever man it was up more than the others. But unless they were diehard Daryl girls, wanted to dominate Glenn, or had some military man, hot priest, or doctor kink for Abraham, Gabriel, or Siddiq, most of them apparently felt that Rick was the love of their lives. He was like a local celebrity. A band’s frontman.

“So, what about you?” One of your scavenging partners asked on the ride home. “Which one do you like?”

“They’re all attractive guys,” you say, keeping your eyes on the road. “But I don’t really think about them like that.” You feel a flush coming on. Crushes, or anything romantic, is a part of your internal world, not something you discuss aloud.

“Come on,” she prods. “You never join in. You just laugh at us for being delusional.”

“Whose us?” Rosita asks, her voice sharp, humorous, and not without judgment. “I don’t talk about that shit.” But secretly, she loved the drama as much as you and would have many questions for you later tonight about why you have yet to tell her of the town obsession of treating her friends like the cast of a reality show.

“I don’t laugh at you! I like it when you guys talk about that stuff.”

“But what I’m saying is that I didn’t let you ride shotgun this time so you can hold out again,” the girl jokes half-heartedly.

“What do you mean this time? I get to ride shotgun because I’m the one with the CDs.”

And it’s true, the only thing that cancelled out the silence of drive in moments where conversation ceased was your Oasis album playing in the background. Learning about the band was your new obsession. Much like listening to the crazy imaginations of the girls in town, you found the Gallagher brother rivalry riveting even if you only knew pieces of the story from the music, scraps of magazine articles, and by asking whoever in town happened to be a teen in the 90s. Thankfully you had hit the jackpot today though. One of the houses you visited was once occupied by a dad and daughter with an insane music collection in the living room and a smaller, more curated one in the girl’s room. After gathering what new music you wanted to try from downstairs, you also found some old issues of QuizFest in the girl’s room, filled with activities that were themed with shows you remember from when you were a kid, but the most important discovery— the find of all finds— was one of those Ultimate Guide, Complete Life Story magazines of none other than the band Oasis.

You would now probably know all of the drama between the brothers to tell a coherent story about the band’s history to anyone who wanted an escape from walker related events and farming talk. When you weren’t listening, that’s what people would come to you for: to borrow music, get recommendations, or to tell them a story. In all, you were getting the reputation of being the town’s music historian, meaning you usually used your knowledge to avoid talking about yourself. And it mostly worked.

Except for now.

“Well, if I had to guess,” the girl persists despite your silence, “I think it would be Rick.”

“What?” Noticing the incredulity in your tone, you calm your voice. Shrugging you say, “Why Rick? Everyone likes him.”

Rosita sends a look your way. It’s innocent enough, probably just showing that she is still listening on as she drives but you were refusing to look at anyone now to know for sure.

“Exactly,” the girl says. “He’s a classic knight in shining armor type. I feel like he’d talk you through it, which I think would be good for— someone like you.”

Your face is on fire, you can’t even speak properly. “I- first of all, what do you know about my experience?” you ask, the incredulous tone returning. But all you get as an answer is knowing snorts and chortles from the two women. Ouch. Nonetheless, you continue, “Second, you think shooting a guy in the head in front of his wife and the whole town is chivalrous?”

Oh—

That makes car goes quiet.

You know you made a mistake.

You didn’t mean it as crassly as you said it, and you did feel bad for saying it knowing that the situation was more difficult than you summed it up to be, but you didn’t apologize. All this talk about crushes and especially Rick made you embarrassed. It’s not that you didn't see what others saw anyway. Of course you noticed how nice Rick’s curls are, how he doesn’t have to use any product for them to look as they do; or those blue eyes and how when you get closer, they become that much more stark and crisp; or how good he was at talking to people, convincing them of things or simply just reassuring them as a friend; and that southern drawl that still sometimes catches you by surprise by sounding so pronounced at the end of certain words, making his voice that much more intoxicating. Of course you saw the appeal, but that didn’t mean you had a crush on him.

Right?

Maybe it doesn’t matter. You just felt you knew better. He was like a president. You know of them, and you believe in them, but you don’t get close to them. And it didn’t matter that he told Carl to personally deliver you a stereo he and Daryl found while out once. How he remembered how you liked music. How he told Carl to tell you this one was probably better than the old one you had, that it was louder. You only showed him your old stereo that once when he was helping you move. He was just a perceptive guy with a good memory. All leaders are like that.

Right?

Anyway, let’s get back to your crass… joke.

“Hilarious.” Rosita says and you hear the low contempt in her voice at your insensitivity.

“That was ages ago though,” the girl chimes in, saving you just a little, “and he did it to help her. He didn’t care about the mess he made. He save her. I’d say that’s pretty romantic.”

“Let’s not call that romantic,” Rosita scoffs, and despite the slight frustration, there was a quiet sadness in her voice at the memory. “That wasn’t love.”

“That was reckless, not romantic.” You agree. Partly because you truly do, but also in attempt to win back favor from your friend. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

But after that day, it was all you could think about.

The idea of a knight; a romantic; someone that would do anything for you, ruin his reputation for you; find gifts from the outside that he’d send is son to give to you. Maybe you did find it charming, idyllic.

These thoughts soared in your mind so much so that on one night when thinking about boys from books or your favorite artists wasn't enough during moments under your sheets when your back arched and your fingers trailed up your thighs, your mind switched from people you would never meet to him, to Rick. Your eyes scrunched tighter, and you tried to shake it away, telling yourself it was just the women in town and the talk in the car getting to you. But then you thought about how rich and hot pink his lips looked on a bright sun-burning day and how it would feel like flames firing inside of you if he kissed you with them.

Ideas like these went on for nearly a year now. You even started questioned if maybe you had always liked him, maybe you were always just like the other girls even though tried to not be. You had thought it made you respectful, realistic; after all, how could Rick be the love of your life if he was everyone’s? Wonderings like this became even worse and more confusing when Rosita had asked if you’d like to move in with her. Becoming closer with her meant being around the leaders more often, which meant coincidental encounters and conversations with Rick as well. Quickly, he wasn’t just that president or celebrity anymore who talked to you sometimes and got you that stereo that once. He was becoming a peer— at least in some ways. One who was curious about your interests as much as your opinions. But it’s not exactly like you were in the in-crowd now as some people assumed. You didn’t get to go to leader meetings, and as much as you knew Rosita must have been telling you more than others know, she couldn’t have been telling you everything. But you did see him more than other people now, when he and the leaders came over to the house or when Rosita was invited over to theirs and she’s tell you to come too. And now, with these thoughts spiraling, you can’t help but to look back at the at the times where Rick approached you, gave you all his attention no matter how small it was and asked you about what you were listening to or reading that week, letting you ramble. He was an older guy, yes, but he cared, he actually listened, and he didn’t make you feel like the childish little sister others do.

Sadly, you did become the fawn like you had told yourself you wouldn’t be. But you couldn’t stop picturing him when you closed your eyes, and in fact, it was nice to imagine someone to fall asleep with, to wake up to. It was just going be your secret. Part of your fantasy world. But then— it all caught up to you.

Through the sliver of the open door he saw you, fingers between folds, goading yourself on as you chanted his name in whispers.

And to your surprise, he encouraged it. No, he did so much more than that— he helped you, made you come; gave you your first orgasm and made you his like no one has before.

You loved it. You gave into it. Even if it was just one secret moment. It made you give into the idea that this would continue but of course, it didn’t. He hasn’t spoken to you in almost three weeks until—

“Woah-” you gasp, almost crashing into just the person as you exit your room.

“Sorry,” you both say in unison, holding onto each other's forearms before quickly letting go. Your arms cross over into your chest before dropping as you enter your room again, clearing the hallway, and his hands go behind his back. He’s still as unsteady as you are, his mouth is slightly open, thinking of what to say.

“Hi,” you whisper tentatively.

“Good morning,” he politely replies. His eyes now smile slightly as he nods to you. You don’t miss how the light emanating from your bright room makes them shine. And he doesn’t miss how the light shining behind your figure makes you, in your white cotton sundress, look like an absolute angel.

“Good morning,” you repeat, giggling slightly, not knowing what else to say.

“Good morning,” he says again, lost and as giddy as you are.

“Oh wait— is the leader’s meeting here today?” Rick starts to nod and answers yes as you continue to speak, “I totally forgot! I’m sorry. I know I should be gone by now.”

He shakes his head, “It’s fine. I was just going to the bathroom.”

“Here? Was someone in the one downstairs?”

“Just wanted to be away from everyone when they came. Daryl and I came early so we started talking and I just- we didn’t see eye to eye on something. I needed a minute.”

You nod. That seems to be your signature when to talk to him. You hated it honestly. Often over-analyzing your words, worrying you’ll sound immature or stutter in front of him. “I'm sorry,” you tell him sympathetically. For a moment there is only silence which makes you worry he will go away, so without thinking, you ask: “I know you’re busy but, if you need a moment, maybe you would like to come in here instead?”

Rick freezes but then, inevitably agrees. As he enters, you close the door and quickly go to shut off the low playing stereo and rehang some of the dresses on your chair in the closet— you had been getting ready for the day. Rick goes to sit on the chair after you empty it but you stop him. You sit on the vertical side of your bed and guesture Rick to sit in the spot next to you, closer to the headboard. You wanted to sit next to him.

Rick doesn’t question this, maybe he wanted to be as close to you as you had, so as he sits, your thighs touch. You try not to move too much at the first contact. Still, the heat that starts to burn inside you makes you realize how much you’ve craved this. Can two weeks feel like a lifetime? It’s like you haven’t felt him in ages.

“What were you playing today?” He asks and you realize you eyes went straight to the area where yours and Rick’s legs touched. You know he noticed but still you try to answer normally.

“Selena. Rosita loves her. It’s one of her most famous songs: Amor Prohibido.”

He nods. “I probably wouldn’t understand a bit of it,” he laughs.

He would probably remember the singer from the news if you gave more context but you don’t. There is a silence that follows until you ask, “So,” starting slowly, “what’s wrong? Is Daryl aright?”

He doesn’t answer. His mouth is open as if he’s deciding what to say, but nothing comes out, so you continue, “You know, nothing is ever right in the world when Rick and Daryl fight. It makes me sad.”

The joke makes those lines at the sides of his eyes appear— a quiet laugh. “Well you know I’d never want to make you sad. Especially not you.” You two exchange a light smile while that heat rises fast to your heart. “We’ll be fine,” he finally says, but then he goes quiet again. Rick seems unsure if he wants to continue. He even looks at the door, wonders if the others have shown up yet, but— he knows he doesn’t want to leave. And even more, he knows he shouldn’t after ignoring you like some teenage boy. He decides to tell you what’s happening: “Daryl wants us to bring new people in. You know how he’s always going out there. But I think it’s way too soon.”

You hum agreeingly, but at the same time, you understand Daryl. “I think he just likes to give people what he never used to have,” you suggest.

“I know,” he nods a bit annoyedly; “and that’s a nice way to put it, but you know him, when he has his mind set on somethin’ he can be so damn stubborn. It’s frustrating. He won’t compromise or listen to anything.”

Endearingly, you try to withhold a laugh, your lisp pursing. Not only because when he says anything, it actually sounds like anythang, but because Rick sounds like he’s describing himself and he doesn’t even realize it.

“And,” he adds, pausing for a moment before he continues, scratching his beard. It looks as if maybe he shouldn’t tell you what he’s about to. His head hangs low to say: This is not information for everyone to know, okay? But the last time he went out there with Glenn, the reason Glenn’s arm is in a sling right now, is because they met a group, tried to bring them back and before they could make it even close to home, the group fought ‘em, tried to steal what they scavenged, and almost kill Glenn.”

You widen your eyes at the statement. You actually already knew this from Rosita, but that will stay between you two. All you feel is humbled that he felt he share it with you, despite it being a dark thing. It was a close call. Rick was right for being very cautious right now. “Wow,” is all you can get in before he speaks again.

“Imagine if we lost him. Fought this war with his wife and unborn baby at the time for nothing? So he couldn’t even meet him?” Rick shakes his head, and you notice his foot tapping lightly, making his knee bounce. This had happened a month ago now but it was obviously affecting him. “It was reckless and I told him that. That right now we need to be focusing on what’s inside these walls. People have only just started getting back to being comfortable now; to feeling like this is a home.”

Your eyes remain wide, “We did so much rebuilding you.”

“We did complete rebuilding.” He corrects, though not rudely. Shaking his head, he goes back to talking about Daryl: “I think I made it seem like what happened to Glenn was his fault. So not only were we arguing but I must’ve hurt him,” Rick realizes, “and now he definitely won’t be back today— maybe not even until next week.”

A silence hangs in the air after this; it seems he finished. Now, you know you should speak, but as the silence continues, you grow more unsure of what to say. Issues like these are things you’ve never dealt with. You didn’t want to say something stereotypical.

“I’m sorry I’m putting all this on you.”

“No, no,” you quickly console, trying to think. “Um, well,” you say, starting unsteadily, “this is probably going to sound stupid and not helpful. I don’t even remember the exact context or what was truly said so it might not make any sense either but, do you remember when I had my Oasis obsession? Earlier this year?”

“I do,” he laughs, turning his head over to your music table. His eyes scan any of the visible album titles to see if he can find it, but the print on most of them are too small. He turns back to you as you continue:

“This is going to sound a little far off but I think you and Daryl are like Liam and Noel.”

His eyebrows furrow, “Didn’t those two hate each other?”

“I mean, yes— but it’s much more complicated than that to me— but no, I don’t mean in that way. It just that there is this quote Noel says that I don’t remember exactly, but I really liked: he said that even though he wrote the music and Liam did the singing that Liam meant the words just as much as Noel did because they’re brothers and he wrote them. I thought that was beautiful, but…” you trail off.

He stays silent, trying to give you space to find your words but you feel like you’ve gone too far. It’s all pretty convoluted and not a true comparison to what’s going on that you’re even confusing yourself a little. “I think what I mean is that even though they have their different roles, they still feel very similar things and believe in the same purpose. I think that’s like you and Daryl. You two are so similar yet so different. But there’s still a binding force that always brings the two of you together. So, like I’m sure you already know and I didn’t even need to tell you, but you two will be okay. You two have different ways of doing things, but the music or the life you’re trying to create in Alexandria still has the same meaning to the both of you.” You laugh small and breathily as you end. “That probably didn’t make sense.”

Rick smiles to himself. “I didn’t get that first bit, with the quote, but no… that made a lot of sense to me.” He nods toward you and you return his smile. “You’re so bright. You know that? Not everyone knows how to stitch things together like that the way you do.”

This makes you feel good. Rick thought you were smart. You know you should say thank you, but instead, something else comes out: “May I, may I kiss you?”

“Yes,” he answers, almost stuttering it out, a hint of hesitation before he did, but he nods so kindly, so reassuringly as he tells you again: “yes.”

Your fingers touch his lower cheeks lightly, feeling the bristles of his beard. You’re slow, and careful, and scared. Your fingers linger on his jaw for a moment until they completely caress his right cheek and then you move in, swiftly— worried you’ll lose your confidence, worried he’ll change his mind. You catch his lower lip and seal the kiss. Your lips are locked for a few seconds until you retreat. It was nice, and exciting, but short. You knew you could have put your tongue in his mouth. You believe he would have let you because you remember when he did it last time, but you didn’t want to embarrass yourself by doing it wrong and once again reminding him how much you don’t know. But you’re sure giving him a grade school kiss like this one was enough of a reminder.

Your eyes roll down, chin low. Your cheeks are on fire and your hands do not know where to go so you start fiddling with the hem of your dress and then you laugh. You were trying to be courageous this time, and you were, but you also weren’t.

Rick grabs your left hand, holding it at the end of your thigh, “I liked that,” he says softly.

“You did?” You ask as softly as he, eyes meeting his.

A short, airy snicker comes out, “Mhm,” he hums, giving you a closed-mouth smile. He found you simply adorable.

“Can I… try it again?”

Rick pulls on your forearm, attempting to bring you closer to him. “Yeah,” he nods, voice gentle. “Do you want me to help?”

You nod before you speak, happily accepting, “Yes.”

He puts your hands on his shoulders. One of his grabs onto your waist and the other holds you lightly under your chin, adjusting your head to meet his lips. The first kiss he places holds just for a couple of moments as the one you gave him did, gentle but packed with longing. The next two are slow, pretty pecks that already have you melting at his touch, lips agape waiting for the next one. The fourth is the one where he brings his tongue into your mouth, carefully bringing it in quarter by quarter. He tastes the top of your mouth and tongue and you feel him as he slowly starts to explore how far you may like to go, but truly you become stagnant other than your hands that press into his shoulder. Luckily, Rick either doesn’t notice your hesitation or is already silently helping you as he takes the lead, pulling you closer by the hips and slipping his tongue in and out of your mouth to kiss you more. It makes you smile— the excitement of your first make-out session. You giggle, and then it makes him smile too and your teeth slightly bump into each other. Accidently you nip his lip because of it, making you pull back.

Your fingers hover over your lips as you impart a quiet apology but Rick just shakes his head giving you another quick kiss instead. He starts to move back on your bed, back pressed again the headboard and he tells you quietly, “Come here.”

You get up and sit higher up on the bed as well, calves folded under your thighs. He takes one of your legs and starts to put it over his as he asks, “Is this okay?”

You nod, vigor growing as you do it now, thrilled to sit on his lap. Your dress bunches around your hips and the tops of your thighs. You move closer to press your chest into his and you kiss him first again, another small one but with intent as you look at him afterward, feeling the scratch of his beard on your fingertips as you smile at him, in awe that this is happening.

“You want to try this time?”

“Uh,” he means you put your tongue in his mouth this time, but you’re afraid to do it wrong but you know you want to say yes so you do, “Yes, okay.”

So he brings you in again and you kiss him. He mouth opens a little and you try to bring your tongue in slightly but you teeth clash. “Sorry,” and quickly he responds that it’s okay and rubs your cheek, telling you to just open your mouth a little wider, no teeth, let your tongue go on top of his.

You try it. Your tongues meet again, licking each other tips before you slowing press in more, your chest touching his as you try to close the gap.

Rick starts slowly rocking your hips against his and he takes control of the kiss again. It helps you not think, you like it. And you like the feeling of that incoming tight bulge starting to form under his jeans, but then you let go. “Wait,” you say, “I like this.” You pause for a moment, confusing him more as to why you stopped. “But… there is something I wanted to ask you.”

“Okay,” his hand stay fixed on your hips and waist, rubbing soothily, “What it is?”

Another pause. “I feel nervous,” you whisper.

“You have no reason to be, sweetheart. You can ask me anything.”

You laugh, smiling as you look off to the side. Anythang.

He smiles too, although unknowingly to what you found funny. His head tilts as he tries to find your gaze and turn it towards him again.

“Well, the last time we were together here you taught me how to do something. You taught me how to pleasure myself better so,” you stutter, “I want to pleasure you. If that’s okay. And I was wondering if you’d teach me how- to touch you here.” You remove yourself from straddling him and point in the direction of his cock.

Instantly he feels a stir of his already hardening dick.

This is not how he expected things to go this time. Or truly, he didn’t expect any of this at all, but when you asked to kiss him he decided he would be gentle, more giving. It felt like you wanted him to take again, the exact thing he was trying not to do. “I feel like I took advantage of you last time.”

“Rick…” you shake your head. “I’m the one who didn’t close the door all the way. You asked if it was okay and then you asked if you could go faster. I said yes to everything…” You start to worry— is he second guessing everything now?—“I feel maybe we remember this differently.” You bow your head again now. Feeling ashamed, wondering if he did.

Rick places one hand on your knee to comfort you although he still says, “It’s just that I’ve never done something like this before.” His thumb sways on your skin. “I just don’t want you to end up feeling like you’re wasting your time. Your first times.”

You’re surprised, “It’s so funny how you can be so self-assured in front of a crowd and now you don’t think you’re good enough.” You take his hand and press it towards your chest. Your heart was racing. “I like you. So much.” You swallow as he says your name softly, realizing how fast your heart was going. “No one in town is truly ever mean to me or anything, and Rosita has been so kind with letting me move in with her and we talk and its nice but, you know— she has her flings and her friendships that are separate from mine and everyone just always seems like they have their person and I just don’t. I don’t have my person, or any person.” You remove your hands from your chest but Rick still holds onto it, squeezing your hand as you start speaking again. “You’re kind, Rick, and you make me excited, and you remember things about me… “ If your face could get any hotter, it does, “And, well, you’re very handsome. If you could teach me again, I would like that.”

God… Rick was trying to be a romantic yet you were so adamant on getting him off. He laughed inwardly, shaking his head, deciding that the best way to handle this situation— and make up for some of his guilt as he was trying to— would be to give you the thing you say you want and not what he thinks you want. Suppose that’s one for widower’s wisdom.

Decidedly, Rick gets up from the bed, giving you a once over, still admiring how adorable, and how sexy, you look to him with your feet under your lap, hands on your knees as you look up at him from the bed and your white dress. He starts undoing his shirt buttons. “Remember when I did this the first time?”

A smirk came on, there’s the Rick you remember. Blue eyes intense, and voice getting cocky as he gets ready to give you what you need, what he knows you only want from him.

“Yes,” you say quiet yet with budding excitement. You start going for the hem of your dress, “Should I start taking this off too?”

“Mm, stay like that.” He’s taking off his belt. “Thought you looked beautiful in it right when I saw you.”

Your thighs squeeze together slightly. Rick Grimes was undressing before you, for you, and calling you smart and beautiful all the while.

As Rick lowers his boxers, his cock springs up. He returns to his spot on the bed, back leaning against the headboard. All of a sudden he seems to truly recognize that he is the only one exposed. He would tell you what to do, guide you, but in a small way, in a way you probably didn’t realize, you were in control. It seems that each time this happens— although it’s only been twice— and each time he talks to you— which has been plenty— you steal a little more of Rick’s heart and he just can’t stop it.

“So,” he clears his throat, your eager eyes on his cock making him twitch, “you usually just wrap your hand around, start from the base and keep pumping up.” He shakes his head, “there’s not too much too it but it’s best to keep your hand light at the start, you—”

You nod quickly, “May I?”

As he nods back you, “Yes.” And as he says it you’re already licking your hand.

“Is it okay if I spit? That helps right? Or is that nasty to you?”

He’s caught off guard, “No, no, that helps.”

So you do and you place your hand lightly at the base as he said and you start to pump. Instantly, he lets out a gasp, and the next noises that follow are repressed grunts and groans. You want to ask him to stop doing that but you’re a little scared to speak up that way just yet and you’re too engrossed in how you can see the light veins of green and blue on him and how he’s so red at the tip. It was honestly exciting. Just this, touching him with your hand, staring at his member and watching him twitch as his mouth opens to pant lightly. It still felt unreal but you liked it and you were happy to learn. You start to pump him more towards the top, placing your thumb on his slit- pressing in. His abs clench at that. You push in a little harder and you squeeze your fist around him a little— testing it out to see what happens—and he groans, unadulterated this time, “oh, fuck.”

The heel of your foot that’s under your lap pushes into your center at that.

You start pumping faster. ��Am I doing good, Rick?”

Hearing your voice sets him off, “Fuck, sweetheart. Yes.” He’s honestly choking out each of his words, he didn’t expect to get so turned on by all of this. He realizes the last time he had sex was with you that first time, and before that… he can’t even remember. “You’re doing an amazing job.”

As you pump, you start to slow down, only doing it shallowly towards his base. You’re feeling confident and you kiss the side of him, licking a fat stripe up to the top and then you pump him fully again.

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” he breathes out. He wants to tell you to slow down but it comes out of nowhere, he stutters before he can even speak. An unintelligible groan mixed with a moan comes out abrupt and louder than he intends and white spurts of liquid come out.

You go faster for a few moments, then start to slow down, a little unsure of what is best to do, but you notice when you start squeezing him a little more as you continue to pump up and more whiteness fall out from inside of him.

“Did I, make you come?”

“Yeah,” he says, huffing.

“I did?” your cheekbones rise as you ask with awe— it was another first for the books.

Rick’s tries to let his embarrassment fade, he can tell you were just excited about it, but still, he looks down and to the side, avoiding direct eye contact— almost like you typically would. You peer at him, almost nervously because of it. Rick is usually the confident one. “Doesn’t always happen that fast,” he explains.

“Well before a month ago I didn’t know how to make myself come so I wouldn’t know,” you say with self-deprecating assurance. You had heard from the girls in town that it was easier to make men orgasm. You already had it in your head as something not to judge. You wonder how hard he must have been restraining himself the first time he placed himself inside you, or if it just happened to be easier for him that time around. “I didn’t expect I could do it or anything really. I thought it was…” you smile while giggling, “interesting.”

“A good interesting I hope.”

“Very,” you assure. “I liked it.” You kiss his cheek as you take some wipes that are by your night stand and you start cleaning him up. He doesn’t tell you that you don’t have to; he helps along with you.

“You sure you’ve never done any of this before?”

You shake your head. “I just read fiction books.”

He smiles to himself, a quiet snort of laughter leaving his nose. You always surprise him.

When you two are done cleaning, he puts his boxers back on. Quickly, he is on the bed again and starts to kissing you. Rick holds your shoulder and pushes you down. Finally, it’s time for his redemption, he feels. It was your turn to be pleasured. Just like he wanted to do from the beginning.

Rick kisses down your neck to your collarbone, and the parts of your exposed chest and he pushes your dress up past your hips. His lips move back up to yours, kissing you more before saying, “I really wanna show you something sweetheart.” He presses his thumb into your clit over your underwear. “Can I kiss you down there? Have you ever had that before?”

You shake your head slowly, eyes wide. “I-” you start nodding your head, “-I would really like that.” And in such a small voice you add, “Please.”

Rick kisses your cheek. Deep and softly he breathlessly tells you, “I would love to.”

Rick moves his head lower and gives you slow kisses over your underwear from your mound to the end of your lips. He starts to drag your panties over your legs and once they’re gone he kisses up your thighs. Then his nose rubs and sways ever so lightly on your lips. He breathes in and it makes you shutter. Your heart is going crazy again. Finally, he licks upward. One long and languid stripe ending with a kiss to your clit and then he truly begins.

Tongues are wet and sticky and everything you ever dreamed of. Your eyes roll back instantly from that first lick and kiss. You remember a time when you started touching yourself that you used to never think of receiving oral. You thought it was scary, nasty, that you wouldn’t like it until the moment you thought about it as a million kisses on your most sensitive lips, or someone liking you so much that they’d get drenched by your wetness just to touch you, to taste you. After that, you thought about it all the time and now it was finally happening– someone needing you so much they just had to know what you taste like. Here he was: kissing, licking, sucking, not caring about how he looks but only how you feel— you now knew what it was like to be desired.

Rick presses his tongue flat on your clit, rubbing deep circles. His eyes are open, looking up at how your mouth opens wider and wider. You let out little whimpers, enamored by his tongue, still deciding if you like the scratch of his beard, but your eyes stay glued to the ceiling, scared to look at the scene below.

He gives you kitten licks in between speaking, “Look down. Don’t miss your first time.”

Your eyes go down slowly, watching as he gives open mouth kisses to your clit and right lip, tilting his head. He stays there for a moment, hearing your short and breathy pants, kissing and licking your clit and lower lips like they were the ones above your chin. His eye contact sends bursts of sticky wet fluid down your hole and you release a whimpered moan, they’re always sp short and soft and high pitched. He can tell you like it but he can also see you’re nervous. You don’t trust yourself, you know it, and he’s starting to realize it too. You’re scared of completely letting go.

He peppers kisses to your clit before moving upward, his tongue rolling and mouth kissing from your lower stomach to your breasts till his face reaches yours again. “No one’s here,” he tells you. He then kisses your lips allowing you to taste yourself for the first time. “Relax,” he whispers, rolling out each syllable. He holds your chin with one hand while he inserts a finger into your hole with the other, his pointer is instantly drenched and you shudder at the feeling. His single calloused finger reminds you of the time he was last inside you. He pumps slowly, looking into your eyes as he speaks, “Don’t think about who could come downstairs.”

“What if Rosita or Daryl come back?”

“What if?” He says it so simply as if he’s ready for everyone to know. Truly, that would be an issue, but right now it was not about him and it was completely about you; he wanted to give. It was short-sighted, reckless, yes, but… you were just so pretty, so bright, so insightful, and he felt like he needed to make up for all the taking he did last time, of your first time. Rosita had went to run after Daryl, hopefully no one was here anyway. But again, he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. “Lay back,” he gently commands, “forget what I said before- close your eyes. Just give in to it. Like I’m the only one who's here.”

Rick licks zig zag stripes down your slit and then he decides to insert his tongue in your hole. He goes as deep as his tongue allows, collecting your wetness and trying to swallow it in moments when he turns back to kissing. He his nose is brushing and rubbing up against your clit as he sucks wetness from down below and you start letting out stringy moans you can’t control. Soft, pretty, and continuous, “uh, ah, uh, uh” that turn into “sorry, I’m sorry.” You’re still self-conscious about your own noises. This was still only the second time you’ve heard the sounds you make when someone else is fucking you.

But Rick shushes you. Giving small kisses to your clit as he looks up at you, seeing your scrunched eyes and open mouth. “I like knowing you like it, pretty girl. I like all those pretty sounds you’re making.”

Your pussy tightens around nothing at that phrase.

“Keep going. You don’t have to be shy.” He grabs your chin and you look down at him. His beard is wet. “We’ve already made a mess anyway.”

He starts kissing your labias, licking up wetness when you decide to ask, nervously, “Can you make sounds too?”

Instantly, Rick goes again to kiss your clit, humming into it as he sucks. Breathing against you he says, “Want me to tell you I like it, sweetheart?” His tongue slides down again, tongue reaching into your hole and he moans into your pussy.

Your back arches and you mewl, you could almost scream.

That’s it, he thinks. Rick keeps humming and groaning into you now. His voice is so seductive. “I love tasting your pussy, baby.”

You couldn’t breathe.

Rick starts rubbing your clit with his thumb and going fast with his tongue in your hole “My bright, pretty girl gonna come for me? Hm?”

“Oh, Rick, I want to. Please, Rick.”

Rick starts to go faster and your brain turns to mush. Only noises coming out and when he stops his tongue movements to say something more you push his head down. “Sorry,” you say. You’ve never been forceful before but he says nothing, just continues going down on you and taking his free hand to place it over his, gesturing that he wants your hands in his hair. You tug on his curls and he grunts into you. You start chanting his name and then he switches to placing his lips on your clit and putting two fingers in your pussy. It reminded you of the first time but instead of your three fingers they were two of his and it felt so much better than you ever knew before, better than you could ever do it yourself. It sets you off. Your eyes shut tighter if they could. “Rick! Oh my god,” you moan and then again and again and then you come.

Rick laps at your cunt, vigorously trying to wipe you clean. He makes it look like it will be the last and only time. It makes you worry but at the same time he looks so sexy like that; needy for you even after you finished.

He takes your wipes and cleans his lips before cleaning you up as you did for him. He kisses you thighs and your lips and your cheeks as he continues. “You did such a good job,” he says. “You always do.”

You’re filled with pride at that. “Thank you.” Then worry sets in. You realize how public you’ve made everything. “Did I just ruin your life?”

He laughs while caressing your thigh. That anxious expression of yours that he just got rid of returns after all the work he did.

“I’m gonna check downstairs. Okay? If they’re there, they’re there.” You nod. We already made a mess anyway, you remember him saying. “They might want to start the meeting when I go down so, whatever happens, happens alright? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Your eyes are still nervous, but it’s all too late anyway. “Okay,” you respond.

“Okay,” he says back, kissing you once more. As he dresses himself again, he tells you, “I promise I won’t wait two weeks to see you again.”

“I’d like that.”

“Me too,” he says as a send off and goes into the bathroom to clean his face.

When he reaches the living room, there is no one. Rick is thankful but confused.

As he nears the coffee table there is a sheet of yellow lined legal pad with a talkie next to it.

Call when you’re done, it reads.

“Rosita?” He questions into the device. Who else could it have been, right?

He can almost hear the grin on her face. “They should start calling you Reckless Rick for all the agony you put these Alexandria girls through.” She pauses for dramatic effect. “There’s just something about that stupid hair cowboy accent, I guess.”

Before he can respond, telling her that it’s absurd to think of him as a playboy, that he was far from it, she continues:

“So, fucking my roommate? You’re glad Glenn and Maggie called everyone over to theirs instead. Hershel took his first steps while you were teaching someone else how to take theirs.”

She unpressed the button to suppress her laughter. “Just get over here,” she concludes, putting down the walkie and going back to meet the rest of the group with a perfect poker face. She tells everyone Rick will be here shortly.

Oh, Alexandria’s leader and her new little best friend who has been hearing the townswomen’s fantasies of him for years: Reckless Rick and his reckless romantic girl.

Rosita would give you so much shit for this when she gets home.

[maybankswhore]

𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐒𝐖𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

( * ) is marked for nsfw!

rafe cameron imagines / fics / blurbs

1. what i signed up for : rafe overhears you talking to sarah about your feelings and wants to help you.

2. “fuck it’s too big” gf & “baby it’s barely in” bf : nsfw headcannon *

3. insecurities : reader is feeling insecure about the label on her relationship with rafe.

4. rafe giving you a promise ring : rafe gives reader a promise ring for her birthday.

5. boyfriends bestfriend : you cheat on topper with rafe. nsfw warning *

6. ( almost ) ex boyfriends bestfriend : part two of you cheating on topper with rafe. nsfw warning *

7. cockwarming rafe : nsfw headcannon. *

8. rafe’s proud to be with you.

9. barbie and ken : you and rafe dress up to see the movie ‘barbie’ and reminisce about the younger versions of yourselves.

10. golf cart girl : rafe eats you out on the golf cart. nsfw warning *

11. ocean blvd : soft sex w rafe ( hints of virgin!reader ) nsfw *

jj maybank imagines / fics / blurbs

1. truth or dare : you play a game of truth or dare with jj and he admits his feelings.

2. ab riding with jj : nsfw warning. *

3. gun to my head : jj fucks you with a gun to your head. nsfw warning *

4. just a bad day : jj comforts you after a really bad day that adds on to your depression.

5. kiss me goodbye : after jj breaks up with you , you find yourself in a relationship with rafe cameron & jj still isn’t over you.

6. a couple of swifties : jj sings taylor swift with you.

7. bad boy x good girl trope with jj : slight nsfw warning. *

8. chain ’round my neck : jj is the only one who really knows you.

9. the five love languages : jj’s love language is physical touch.

10. “you came.” “you called.” : it doesn’t matter what happened , if jj calls you — you’re answering.

11. opposites attract : it doesn’t matter how different you are from him , you’re the girl of jj’s dreams & he won’t stop until he has you.

12. let me take care of you : jj takes care of you on your period.

13. safe space : you’re eachothers safe space.

14. wedding bells : you’re marrying rafe and jj is still in love with you.

15. begin again : jj shows you how to open yourself up to falling in love again.

16. eyes on the road : you give jj road head. nsfw warning *

17. taking care of you : aftercare with jj.

18. missing piece : jj won’t admit your feelings for you but he doesn’t want anyone else to have you.

19. mcdreamy : you trip over some rocks at the beach and jj can’t help but worry about his precious girl.

20. our song : you & jj are sickly in love with eachother.

21. i can see you : you and jj try ignoring the temptation to break the rules.

[atzaurora]

[˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗] 𝒞𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒯𝒉𝒆 𝒮𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒎.﹙정우영﹚(1.8k)

𖥔 fem!reader x wooyoung ; dating ⸼જ A rainy night in with Wooyoung turns into a heated game of control and desire, where boundaries are tested and passions flare, proving that some temptations are impossible to resist... ➤ imagine (smut) .ᐟ.ᐟ 18+/smut content, MDNI!!!, unprotected sex, bdsm elements, light bondage (use of restraints), dom/sub dynamics, rough sex, m & f receiving .ᐟ.ᐟ

꒰🖇꒱ it's freaky but I'm so here for it tbh >.< enjoyyy

if you have any ideas or wishes let me know, requests are open

here's my [𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕]! ; [𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕] here! ; [about me] + [guidelines]!

reblogs appreciated

"Come on, just one bite," Wooyoung coaxed, his eyes gleaming with a playful challenge as he held out the slice of spicy pizza.

You giggled, playfully slapping his hand away. "You know I hate spicy food."

"But it’s not that bad, I promise," he persisted, a teasing grin pulling at the corners of his lips. His eyes sparkled with amusement, clearly enjoying your resistance. ── ࣪˖ MORE BELOW

It was a rare night off for both of you, a much-needed break from your hectic schedules. You had ordered takeout, and the cozy hum of an old movie played in the background, its soft soundtrack merging with the rhythmic drumming of rain against the windows. The rain grew louder, setting a soothing cadence that filled the room, wrapping the two of you in a blanket of calm.

Despite the cozy atmosphere, a chill from the storm outside seeped into the apartment, making you shiver slightly. The thin clothes you were wearing weren’t much help against the cold. Noticing, Wooyoung leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, "I’ve got a good idea for how we can warm up."

A shiver ran down your spine, not from the cold, but from the teasing lilt in his voice. You met his gaze, a spark of curiosity mingling with the growing tension between you. He took your hand, and with a gentle tug, led you to the bedroom. The anticipation between you both was palpable, the air thick with unspoken desires.

In the dim light of the bedroom, Wooyoung playfully nudged you onto the bed, his hands landing on your waist with a gentle but insistent grip. You let out a soft giggle, pushing him away teasingly as he leaned in to steal a kiss.

"What’s gotten into you tonight?" you asked, your voice low and teasing, the tone mirroring the tension that had been simmering all evening.

He flashed you a grin, his eyes darkening with unmistakable desire. "I just can’t get enough of you," he admitted, his words a mix of sincerity and lust.

You smirked, a mischievous glint dancing in your eyes as you slid off the bed and sauntered over to the nightstand. "Is that so?" you challenged, pulling open the drawer with a flourish. From inside, you retrieved a set of velvety restraints, holding them up for him to see. "I think it’s time for a little role reversal."

Wooyoung’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, but the excitement in them was unmistakable. He had never seen this side of you, and the prospect intrigued him.

"Trust me," you purred, your voice dripping with seduction as you approached him. Slowly, you began to tie his wrists to the headboard, securing them with just the right amount of pressure—not too tight, but enough to make sure he wasn’t going anywhere. "You’re going to love this."

Wooyoung’s pulse quickened as the restraints tightened around his wrists. Being tied up wasn’t something he had ever imagined doing, but for you, he was willing to explore anything. His eyes followed your every move as you sauntered back to the nightstand, your hips swaying with an air of confidence that only heightened his anticipation.

You pulled out a sleek, lifelike dildo from the drawer, its surface glinting under the low light. Wooyoung’s breath hitched at the sight, a low, almost inaudible groan escaping his lips as his cock twitched in his pants. He already knew what you had in mind.

"I’ve been waiting to use this," you murmured, trailing the toy along your inner thigh. The coolness of it sent a ripple of goosebumps over your skin, and Wooyoung’s eyes darkened with want, his breath shallow as he watched you with rapt attention.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, unable to look away. "What are you planning?" he asked, his voice rough with curiosity and desire.

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you flashed him a wicked smile, sliding off your clothes with deliberate slowness, knowing full well that Wooyoung’s patience was wearing thin. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, the intensity of it making your skin tingle with excitement.

Once bare, you positioned the dildo at your entrance, teasing him as much as yourself. His body tensed, his restraints holding him firmly in place, though his eyes betrayed the wild need brewing inside him.

"You’re going to watch," you commanded, your voice sultry, the low timbre sending a thrill through him. "And you’re not moving until I say so."

Without breaking eye contact, you slowly pushed the toy inside yourself, a soft moan escaping your lips as the sensation washed over you. Wooyoung’s gaze was locked on the sight before him, his breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts as you began to move the toy in and out, your pleasure evident in every subtle shift of your expression.

He clenched his fists, testing the restraints, but they held firm. "It’s not fair," he murmured, his voice thick with frustration. "I want to be the one making you feel like that."

Your lips curled into a smug smile as you met his gaze, your eyes gleaming with challenge. "Patience, darling," you cooed, the honey-sweet tone of your voice dripping with teasing. "Your turn will come."

Each thrust of the toy drove Wooyoung closer to the edge of his restraint. He could feel the heat pooling in his body, the desperate need to touch you, to claim you, becoming almost unbearable. Every moan that fell from your lips only added to his frustration, his desire to be the one bringing you to the brink overwhelming.

"You’re so beautiful," he breathed, his voice hoarse as he watched you, his eyes heavy with lust. "But nothing compares to the real thing."

You smirked, your pace quickening as the sound of the dildo sliding in and out of you filled the room, mixing with the soft patter of rain against the window. "You think you can do better?" you taunted, your voice thick with pleasure. "Prove it."

Something in Wooyoung snapped. His control shattered as he growled, "I will. I’ll make you scream my name until you can’t take it anymore."

The promise in his voice sent a pulse of heat through your body, but you didn’t let it distract you. You continued to pleasure yourself, bringing yourself closer and closer to the edge, all while watching the agony of desire play across Wooyoung’s face.

When you finally felt your release approaching, you whispered, "Now."

In one swift move, you untied one of his wrists, and in an instant, Wooyoung was on you. He pulled you onto his lap, his mouth crashing against yours in a searing kiss. His hands gripped your hips tightly, the desperation in his touch palpable as he pulled your body flush against his.

He didn’t waste any time, tossing the dildo aside and replacing it with his own hard length. You moaned into his mouth as he filled you completely, the sensation of him stretching you sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

This was what you had been waiting for—the moment when he would remind you why no toy could ever compare to him. As he began to move, his hips thrusting into you with a fierce passion, you knew he was going to keep his promise.

Wooyoung’s movements were urgent, driven by his need to show you just how much better he could make you feel. Each thrust was precise, his hips moving in a rhythm that had you seeing stars.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, holding onto him as he brought you to new heights of ecstasy. The rain outside seemed to intensify, the sound of it mingling with your moans and his grunts, creating a symphony of raw, primal desire.

"You’re mine," he murmured against your skin, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh of your neck. "Always."

You could only nod, your voice stolen by the waves of pleasure crashing over you. Every movement, every word, sent you spiraling higher, lost in the intensity of his claim.

Suddenly, Wooyoung flipped you over onto your back, positioning himself above you. He hooked your legs over his shoulders, the new angle allowing him to thrust even deeper inside you, each movement sending shockwaves through your entire body.

Your hands clutched at the bedsheets, desperate for something to ground you as Wooyoung’s lips trailed over your skin, leaving a burning path in their wake. The tension in his body was building, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more desperate.

"Cum for me," he demanded, his voice thick with desire.

And with that, you fell apart, your orgasm tearing through you like lightning. Your body trembled beneath him, every nerve ending alight with pleasure.

Wooyoung didn’t stop, his own release only moments behind. He continued to drive into you, his eyes never leaving yours, until finally, with a low groan, he reached his peak. His body trembled as he emptied himself inside you, his release filling you completely.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still, the only sound the soft patter of rain and the heavy breathing that filled the room. Wooyoung collapsed beside you, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath.

"I’ll never let you tie me up again," he said with a laugh, his voice still shaky from the afterglow of pleasure. He wiped a hand over his forehead, brushing away the beads of sweat that had gathered during your intense session. His grin was lazy but playful, eyes sparkling with mischief as he turned his head to look at you.

You shifted onto your side, a smug smile pulling at your lips. "Is that a promise or a threat?" you teased, trailing your fingertips lightly over his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. His skin was warm beneath your touch, and you could feel the aftereffects of the raw energy between you lingering in the air.

Wooyoung just chuckled again, the sound rumbling through his chest as he pulled you closer, his arms winding around your body to hold you tightly against him. "Maybe both," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his lips soft but lingering. "It was torture having to watch without getting to touch you... Your body is too beautiful to just sit back and not be able to do anything about it."

You giggled, snuggling deeper into his embrace, feeling the comfort of his strong arms around you. "But it was worth it, wasn’t it?" you whispered, snuggling into his embrace. "Because now, I know you're not just all talk."

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "And you're not just all tease."

[tswwwit]

familiar!au thoughts:

i've been mentally handwaving all of dipper's reincarnations having the same names, bc it would just be confusing to read, if they didn't (and bc tbh i feel like bill would just ignore it anyway, lmao. this is pine tree! that's all that matters. what, is bill supposed to remember whatever dumb new thing his mortal parents have named him every lifetime?)

HOWEVER, a funny alternative- do you think, after bill & dipper have gained enough notoriety for dipper to be recognized as a Big Heroic Demon Hunter, there's a sudden spike in people naming their kids "mason", and/or "dipper" becomes a new & notable given name?? are there magical families out there naming their baby boys mason or dipper, in the hope that they'll grow up to be powerful practitioners, or that they'll be especially resistant to demonic temptation? (lol. lmao, even.)

second: imagine familiar-verse's pop culture landscape once enough time has passed that bill & his mortal have passed into legend. 😭 what do you think it's like to be a teenager growing up in the Between Times, when there's mythologized history, daytime TV dramas, and bad historical romance novels about these two?

do you think there's like, tiktoks about how to tell if you're regaining past memories in dreams, of your time as bill's mortal? IG reels of kids who have Wildly misunderstood the situation, w/ captions like "13th bday, i think my birthmark is finally starting to come in?!! 🤯😱 #ChosenMortal #BeastWithOneEye #WelcomeBackDipper" and the comments are full of people going "bestie that is a rash, please go to the doctor 🙏😭"

Thank you for accepting my handwaving of Dipper's name in the reincarnations! A majority is of course the readability and understanding it's the same guy, but bit of it is 'I don't wanna come up with new names for each one'. I also agree with 'Mason' and 'Dipper' becoming much more common after Dipper's first life! Turns out he made quite the impression. That'll happen when you're a clever guy with the full power of Bill Cipher behind your spellcraft. God, though. The cultural phenomenon behind this weird Demon Bond. With how little information the public has on how things went down, imagine all the fictional interpretations. Dramas, of course. Soap operas, even! Horror movies! Tons of different versions of what happened! Of course there's tweens daydreaming about being next, it's a Pretty Cool Thing to happen to someone - if you don't know Bill very well. I will also take your rash story and invite another possibility - A Dipper who thinks he's totally gotten away scot-free from any involvement with Bill. After all, he doesn't have the birthmark.

Only to wake up one day, wash his face at the sink, and look up to see the damn birthmark plastered right on his forehead.

[littlemissayu]

Wht Song would play in your Rom-Com?

A/N: Kinda surprising myself by posting twice today but hey I did it!! Lmk if you guys want a pt2 bc I don’t wanna write this just for you guys to not care for it or want smth else.

Pt2

Pairings: Heartsabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, and Scarabia x reader(romantic)

Dancing in the Moonlight by Toploader

Now I can see this playing out in a montage of you two getting closer somehow; being forced to work together and slowly warming up to each other(academic/work rivals or js u 2 being complete opposites etc.) or even just going from daily acquaintances, maybe you work at his local bakery or coffee shop, and you guys get closer and closer til one of you get the nerve to ask the other out.

 

Honeypie by JAWNY

This plays out when you guys are having your moment, yk the one where you just think to yourself, I can totally tell they love each other and not just cause the movie is telling you. You two are either talking about something you both feel passionate about and you just bounce off each other clearly feeling at home with this person. Or maybe you guys are just there together and something about the energy or aura of what you doing or not doing just radiates love.

Magic by One Direction

Playing while it finally hits him that he is totally head over heels for you, and he accepts it. He probably had a lurking feeling beforehand but now he is absolutely sure that he, Cater Diamond, is in love with you.

Come and Get Your Love by Redbone

This song plays out during your first date montage. It’s a supercute new love type of montage as you guys are just trying to impress each while being all lovey-dovey

Teenage Dirtbag by Wheatus

I think this one is pretty self-explanatory. He's head over heels for you and this song plays during another montage of you two being silly goofy teenagers in love just running around giving everyone toothaches.

This Love by Maroon 5

This song plays while subtly flirting with(read as obviously pining over) you. You are making him work for it of course and it just makes him more determined to make you his. It will play again at the end of the movie too when you guys are finally together and everyone who’s watching you guys love story(in the movie or not) can finally rest now that you two are together while listening to a fun song.

Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy by Queen

I can so picture this playing in a scene where you guys bond over having to do a task(like maybe cleaning a mess you two made) together as a new couple and you guys are just having the best time together being all in love and stuff. The sun is softly shining through a window and you clean, stealing kisses and flirting. It’s just such a cute scene.

My Girl by the Temptations

You can’t convince me that this song isn’t playing in a scene where you guys are having the first dance at your wedding. OR (another) montage of you guys being back at his home as he shows you the beauty of it and while you fall in love with his home he falls harder for you.

Ain’t no Mountain High Enough by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell

I don’t know why my brain has decided that the outro for Azul’s heartfelt closing song of his heartwarming, emotional, fluff filled Romcom. My thoughts refuse to see otherwise. Like just imagine when you uys finally kiss for the first time and you just hear the mesmerizing voices of Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell are just transitioning you over to the end montage of the life you and Azul live together with part of the credits playing and the end is a heartfelt message about love pertaining to the movie and then the very last credits roll.

Stand By Me by Ben E. King

Imagine the two of you dancing together confessing your feelings after being separated by your busy lives for years and after a reunion you two finally meet up and slowly what the two of you thought was just a crush forms into a beautiful love that he professes to you as you two dance in the moonlight. The atmosphere is romantic and his voice is mesmerizing; you two are just so in love.

Lay All Your Love on Me by Abba; Mamma Mia Ver.

Is this because of the scene during this song? Absolutely! Bc now that I got it into my head it’s never going to leave, just think about it. You two are just elling each other that you want the other to give you their everything. Also I this upbeat song just feels somewhat right for Floyd(i could be wrong tho)

OR

Partners in Crime by Set it Off & Ash Castello

Just imagine the opening and closing song being this song because throughout the movie it’s about the two of you basically being Bonnie and Clyde, traveling across all of Twisted Wonderland causing crimes all by being crazy in love. Every hostage you’ve had to hold can always say one thing “They are mad for each other”. The song starts while we see you guys rob a bank and as the song says at the end the two of you are shot when cornered by the police whether you two die or not is dependent on whether the two of you get a sequel but who knows???

Stupid in Love by MAX and HUH YUNJIN

Are you kidding me?? This would be you guys' theme song. Just imagine this song being about the two of you about to get married but everyone says you guys are rushing it but like WHO CARES?? You two are so in love it makes everyone sick. This plays during the wedding and at the end when whatever your main conflict is gets solved. Just imagine you two finally happy and at the end you two are looking over a beautiful sunset on magic carpet.

LoveGame by Lady GaGa 

You guys are enemies to lovers and this is the song that plays during your rivalry montage. Let’s say your Kalim’s cousin doesn't trust him in the slightest and he finds you annoying, because if you keep trying to investigate it could affect him and his family so you two are constantly going toe to toe and the tension is so thick, a butcher would struggle to cut it. During the montage of you two being enemies in public but lovers in private because you guys finally sliced the tension but you don’t want to reveal anything yet. 

A/N: I’m not 100% on all of these but it was fun to do so even if you guys don’t specifically say you want a part 2 i might js make it for fun but do interact and lmk, it motivates me even to get out more content!! All my love!!

Heartsabyul Masterlist

Savanaclaw Masterlist

Octavinelle Masterlist

Scarabia Masterlist

TWST Masterlist

Grand Masterlist

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

IDK if you've watched the x-men movies- og or first-class stuff- but if you have I'm curious as to your opinion on Charles Xavier/Professor X. Specifically: how would he get on with Edward? What about Carlisle? How woul Magneto/Erik get on with them?

I've seen I think all three of the OG X-Men live action films but it's so long ago I only remember 3 very well (and it was... very not good). I saw X-Men First Class and I think a few of the other reboot X-Mens that were also... not good.

But honestly? Based on those I feel like I just don't have enough to get a grasp of Professor X and Magneto. It doesn't help that this is one of those domains where the comics are very old and people are really into them, so if I just do "well, based on the film" I'm told "ACTUALLY THEY'RE SUPER DIFFERENT IN THE COMICS AND HOW DARE YOU".

But I'll take my best guess.

Professor X and Edward

Charles deals with overemotional and overly powerful teens who cause problems all the fucking time. He's dealt with ones who have caused a lot of damage, sometimes intentionally and sometimes not, so I feel like to Charles Edward is another kid in need of help. Does he need help? Absolutely, this boy is clearly traumatized by being turned into a vampire/the nature of his existence and his temptation for blood among other things. However, he's not unique and certainly not more terrifying than dealing with a preteen Jean Gray.

I actually think Edward would really like Charles. Yes, it's annoying he's more powerful than Edward (being basically able to do what Aro does, but from a distance, and able to control people's thoughts) but he's the kind of guy Edward would really like. He has all the power in the world but rarely if ever chooses to use it and when he does it's with a lot of justification to himself of why he has to erase these memories or make someone do this thing, usually with the safety of others in mind. He's well-spoken, earnest, has dedicated his life to helping gifted children the world has shunned and is able to offer Edward advice.

For all Edward would argue he's older than Charles, I do think Charles could glide into that mentor-like position (especially since he has, canonically, for older characters such as Logan).

Charles in turn I imagine would be a good mentor for Edward who would both a) actually understand what he's thinking and going through because of the telepathy and b) being a voice of sanity Edward can choose to confide in.

Professor X and Carlisle

I imagine Charles... understands why Carlisle has turned these people, that Carlisle meant well, and that Carlisle was driven by a profound loneliness when he did so. He doesn't approve and Carlisle should absolutely stop, these people did not consent to become vampires and not all of them are happy being so, but he gets that Carlisle is ultimately human (humanoid) and can be expected to make mistakes/be driven by emotion.

Beyond that, I imagine the pair would get on great as, again, Charles is a person that actually reads your mind at the bone deep level and so you actually have to confront shit. And we know Carlisle was cool enough with Aro to stay in Volterra for twenty years, so he's fine with the general mind reading and I think would get on fairly well.

Unless Charles is in his bitchy heroin addicted phase he was in for that one movie.

Edward and Magneto

Nope.

See, the trouble is Edward gets Magneto's philosophy a little too much.

It's not the same at all, but Carlisle's philosophy is very in Professor X's line of thought: yes, even though there are bad humans who do bad, that does not justify our eating them or make us 'good' by doing so.

This is not entirely dissimilar to Charles's: yes, the humans often treat mutants and anyone with the label 'other', like complete dogshit, not limited to horrific murder, but that does not mean that we can target the general population of humans out of self-defense or kill them all and leave only 'pure' mutants.

Edward would see far too much of himself in Magneto's: we are absolutely justified in kicking the humans out of power/dismantling their entire system because they've done a shit job of everything for thousands of years and are always treating mutants and 'other' as shit.

Magneto's not eating humans, and Magneto often pumps the breaks when things get too spicy in X-Men land (from what I've seen he's never full "KILL THEM ALL" and usually ends up having to side with the X-Men with a pouty face when the other villain goes too far), and it's not really equivalent to Edward's self-justification for giving into desire but it'd be close enough that Edward would hate it because he hates what he himself did.

As for Magneto, he sees Edward as another overpowered self-righteous and seriously misled teen. Boy, he's seen a lot of those.

Magneto and Carlisle

It's like Charles the vampire but worse because he's turning these stupid kids into crystal death machines and then telling them not to give into natural instinct, starve themselves like monks, when they were by design made to feed off human blood.

"JUST EAT, YOU DUMB PEOPLE" I imagine Magneto screams at them in despair. The humans can handle it. Nobody's winning an award for these people nobly starving themselves and in Erik's humble opinion there's a lot of people who should kick the bucket.

It'd be stupid if Carlisle was doing it only to himself, but it's downright horrible that he's bringing these kids into it, and especially that none of them had any say in it.

Erik thinks this guy is a piece of shit.

[bellewintersroe]

Hiiii I was listening to music with my dad the other day and the song caballero by Alejando Fernandez came up and all I could do was think about carlos being in love with the gf (reader) of another driver. The song is about respecting the other guy in a way but what if he didn’t and that’s when I thought of secreto de amor by Joan Sebastian it literally says “Delante de la gente no me mires. No suspires no me llames. Aunque me ames. Delante de la gente soy tu amigo. Hoy te digo, que castigo” and i love the idea of carlos trying to be a gentleman like with the first song and then snapping bc he knows reader loves him too and having an affair with her and it being their secret like the second song

You don’t have to write anything I just wanted to get the idea out of my head and I thought I’d share

No I LOVE this, this is so creative honestly thank you for the inbox I appreciate it sm!! I’ve tried to use some Google translate and I got a bit confused (I’m so sorry) but I’ve attempted to write something along the lines of your scenario because I absolutely love it and how angsty it is. I’m not aware of the songs so I apologise if it’s not exactly what you were imagining. Feel free to inbox me again if this is all completely wrong HAHA.

Carlos Sainz x AlonsoGirlfriend! Reader..

warnings: smut, mentions of affair (I’m sorry) hurting feelings, secrecy, jealousy… reader is Spanish but I won’t try butcher the translations.

Desde el día en que te miré Ibas bien acompañada Ibas con él de la mano De repente te reías De reojo me mirabas The champagne Carlos had consumed all night began to weigh heavy on his eyelids, wandering around the room as though he was in a subdued trance. His intoxication was, of course, due to the expensive alcohol he’d drunk excessive amounts of, but deep down Carlos knew there was something else weighing heavily on his sobriety. Her. The dark, olive skin exposed between the risky slit in her black dress, the valley between her breasts, the almost jet black hair that cascaded down her spine- she had him in a trance.

Carlos’ heart tightened, jaw falling a little slack at the sight of you once again. It was movie like. The beautiful girl, gently batting her eyelids at her prince-like boyfriend, and the depressed, drunk man watching from the corner. Alone. Her hands smoothed up over the other man’s creased shirt, flattening the material crisp over the bicep as his hand reached out to curl at the curve of her hip. His finger tips tightened into the flash of her behind. The corners of her red lips turned and she offered him a simple kiss, once on the cheek. Fernando caught her again, this time catching the plump of her lips. Carlos grimaced. That was enough. Carlos had enough of seeing the scene and turned back down to the alcohol in his glass. Simultaneously, she spared a singular glance in Carlos’ direction, one he assumed he was imagining, a deluded sight he could only dream of. No es mi gran amigo él Pero claro lo conozco Y no suelo ser aquel  Que no le importa con quién Trato de ser respetuoso The man that Carlos so desperately wanted to trade places with? Fernando Alonso. His childhood idol, his fellow Spaniard on the grid and good friend, mentor- he was everything Carlos respected and more. Carlos knew better than to sought after a taken lady, especially one of his friends. Fernando was a lucky man, a lucky, lucky man… as soon as they were embracing, did she begin her journey towards Carlos. He felt the tips of his fingers unconsciously dig into his jeans and the swell of his heart speed. Carlos’ eyes fell down her body, her beautiful curves, the sleek of her dress clung to all the right places, hair bouncing with each stride she took. Ay, pero ven tantito Es la única vez que te voy a contar mi secreto Si no tuvieras compromiso, te perdería el respeto

With a sparing glimpse back to an occupied Fernando, busy talking to another young, beautiful woman, Carlos fell to the temptation of the beautiful woman, who was now inching closer to him. She was unearthly, a goddess, and when she offered him a smirk, he had to double take that it was actually aimed towards him. He would risk it all, he knew he would, the brush of her arm against his caused a deep breath to catch in his throat. She offered him a sympathetic smile at the strange noise it created.

“I’m sorry… I’m Carlos.” He cleared his throat, the sound of his voice almost startling him. Her dark eyes fell to the outstretched hand in front of her. In that moment Carlos didn’t know if she wanted to laugh in his face or punch him. He was puzzled by her confused expression.

Slowly, she raised her left hand, the cold metal of a ring touching his own almost making him feel physically sick. “I’m sorry. Im not used to shaking with my left.” She laughed, a soft, gentle kind, one that had Carlos already grinning to himself. She then offered her name, soft hand still embraced within his own. Carlos swore he’d never felt skin as soft as hers. She offered her name, a beautiful one, one in which Carlos repeated.

When their hands retrieved, he noticed the diamond cladded on her ring finger. His teeth ground against one another as they shared a glance at the ring, then back to Fernando.

“I’m Fernando’s-” the woman’s face winced as her eyes gazed over what Carlos now recognised to be her fiancé, with the hand on the waist of another woman. He recognised the the heaviness in her voice, the sigh which escaped her lips sounding almost painful. “-I’m getting another drink. Would you like to join?” Y si no fuera un caballero, te lo juro Te arrancaba de sus brazos sin pensarlo ni un segundo Eres la mujer que más me gusta en el mundo Pero tengo un respeto por ese suertudo

The minutes spent together turned into hours. Hours of uninterrupted conversation and laughter. Carlos felt as though she had captured his heart in a way no woman had before, she was sensual, even in the way she talked, Carlos thought he was imagining things when her gaze fell up and down his front on numerous occasions. She was swift, but flirtatious. Her eyelids were becoming heavier as the night and alcohol effected her. When a hand rested on Carlos’ forearm he had an overwhelming desire to pull her in his arms and spend the whole night with her. Although he recognised his feelings to be beyond lust (which was frightening for Carlos to happen so quickly) he still felt the twitch of his manhood whenever she would hold eye contact, or touch him. Occasionally she would bend forwards, exposing the further curve of her breasts. Carlos pretended not to realise. Y si no fuera un caballero Te robaba, y no un beso, sino toda la semana Para hacerte el amor hasta que te cansaras Pero soy un caballero y mejor Mejor no te digo nada When the night was nearing its end he felt almost desperate to express his feelings, he was almost certain she felt the same. It was bad, he knew it was. He still felt like there was too much respect for Fernando to pull any kind of move on the beautiful lady. God, he was so lucky. So, so lucky.

But it seemed her luckiness had run out, something that broke Carlos’ heart to see her eyes wide and scanning the room for her missing fiancé. “Where has he gone?” Carlos cleared his throat, the first mention of Alonso all night. “Um..” she glanced down to her phone, no notifications, nothing. She recognised the same sickness she felt every time something like this happened with Alonso.

“I think… he’s gone home.” Carlos watched her gulp, sliding her phone back into her clutch, the slight tremble of her fingers causing his brows to furrow. It was as though on instinct that he reached out, steadying her tremor. “I should go.” Her voice barely reached above a whisper, focusing on the gentle hand Carlos had placed on hers. She intended the words to come across more inviting than what they did, fear grasped her too much to speak up. It was now or never.

“I will walk you…” finally, a smile grew on her face. One that Carlos reciprocated as they shared a moment of silence, eyes meeting, speaking a thousand different things that words could not.

Delante de la gente no me mires. No suspires no me llames. Aunque me ames. Delante de la gente soy tu amigo. Hoy te digo, que castigo…

“I need you.” Her soft pants had Carlos writhing up against her body, hips bucking harder into hers. “I needed you all night… Carlos.” All he could do was moan in response, teeth grind in together in pleasure as he pressed his lips onto her cheek bone.

Every breath, every sound, every movement had Carlos feeling like he was driven crazy. And when he watched her slide the ring off her finger, dropping it to the floor below he felt all respect for the other man go out of the window. The sex felt too good, it was lustful, dirty, anything and more that Carlos could have dreamt of. He felt selfish, but at the same time he didn’t care. He wanted her, he needed her, and now he had her.

Her body below his moved in time with his, the bounce of her breasts sending Carlos into a pleasure filled trance. “I needed you.” He managed to tell her back. She was tight around him, wet, it was pure bliss. Carlos could feel his orgasm creeping up on him quicker than anything. He wanted to finish inside her, make her his, claim her as his own and vice versa.

His release was beyond earthly. He almost couldn’t compute the level of pleasure as he collapsed on top body, still squeezing, caressing, stroking her skin and hair. His hips still milked his orgasm as he unloaded his seed deep inside her, arm wrapping under the warmth of her body and holding closer and tighter than before, sealing a promise that he would never let her go, and keep her as his own…

[becca-e-barnes]

As a romantic, sentimental shit, I decided to add a little spin off to the Moving In series.

While I'm not a huge fan of Christmas, Christmas Eve always felt really special to me. Christmas Eve traditions in our family have changed a lot over the years but I'm really excited to start my own! I've been trying to imagine what my perfect Christmas Eve would be like next year and it'd be pretty damn close to this.

If you celebrate it, have a lovely Christmas tomorrow! If you don't, I hope you have a wonderful day!

There's no way to keep the cat off the twinkling fairy lights on the tree. You've tried every trick the internet could offer but nothing stops her; except her own sleepiness.

After a long afternoon fighting the lights (and losing), she's curled up in the armchair, peacefully sleeping.

The tree is safe.

For now.

"Your fluffy murderer is asleep." Bucky hums contentedly, pulling you impossibly closer to him on the sofa.

"Good." It's about time. Even the TV playing Olaf's Frozen Adventure doesn't seem to be disturbing her and she loves that movie.

You're surprised the heat hasn't knocked Bucky out yet. Between your body heat, the matching pyjamas you're both wearing and the glowing embers of the fire, you're surprised he's not asleep too.

"What's Santa bringing tomorrow?" Bucky teases, running his hand from your hip to your waist, slipping his hand under you top and letting it rest there.

"I don't know! Hopefully the stand mixer I asked for... Maybe some baking supplies... Some cat treats maybe." You smile at the thought and feel Bucky laughing against your back.

"That cat of yours has not made it onto the Nice List, sweetheart. No chance. Santa won't be visiting her." His lips are curled into a smile as they drift from your collar, up the back of your neck.

"She's been good the rest of the year. She's only been naughty since I put the tree up." You feel like you have to protest on her behalf, even though you know Santa will be bringing her plenty of cat treats.

"So there's hope for you too then if that's how Santa works. If he excuses short bursts of naughtiness, you might still make it." His hand trails its way back to your hip, slipping just under the waistband of your pyjama shorts.

"I've been good this year and you know it!" You tease, pressing your ass back against him.

"Oh see no, this is naughty." Bucky corrects you, kissing your neck with a little more pressure.

"I don't think so. You seem to like it so this is me being nice." You wiggle your ass against the front of his pyjamas, enjoying the evidence of his interest.

"Don't argue sweetheart, that'll put you firmly on the Naughty List." He knows you hate reasoning like that.

"Well, if you've been so good this year, what's Santa bringing you?"

There's a short pause but the kissing over your neck doesn't stop.

"I don't know... I don't need anything." He didn't ask you for anything for that same reason. "I have everything I need here."

"That's gross. Grow up." You know he can't see the way that made you smile so you're free to affectionately bully him for saying it.

"You're so right." He laughs, somehow shuffling even closer to you.

"I'm sure if I got down on my hands and knees in front of the tree and looked right in at the back, I could find a gift with your name on it." You go back to rubbing your ass against his crotch, tempting him to escalate.

"Sweetheart, that view alone would be enough of a gift." He's got a special way of making you feel like a temptation, without ever objectifying you. God, he's wonderful. "But I want to see that pretty face. I want to lay you down under your tree and unwrap my gift properly."

"Unwrapping your gift early will put you on the Naughty List!" You try to feign disgust at the very suggestion but really, that's all you want.

"Then I'll be the happiest man on the damn Naughty List this year." He laughs, scooping you up and laying you down on the plush carpet.

"You're more of a terror than the cat." You giggle before his lips are pressed to yours, kissing you with an intensity you really quite enjoy. His tongue slips past your lips, rubbing against your own and it's almost dizzying to start so intensely.

Your fingertips dig into his broad, muscular back and shoulders. It's easy to let need cloud your brain and he doesn't seem to mind as he sheds his pyjama top.

"We aren't matching anymore." You smile, reaching for the bottom of your own top, pulling it off in one swift motion.

"Excuse me. You're unwrapping my present for me." Bucky pretends to be horrified but your decision has its perks. He's now got full access to your breasts and it's like Christmas came early for him.

He wastes no time, sucking and kissing and licking your breasts. His tongue flicks over your stiff nipples, enjoying the way the sensation makes you squeal and writhe under his mouth.

"Bucky... Please." You whine after a while, desperate for him to move on.

"Someone's needy." Bucky smiles, raising an eyebrow before he reaches down to remove the bottom half of your pyjama set.

Fuck, he's not wrong. His fingertips trail against your sex, checking to see whether you're as aroused as you sound and he's almost surprised to find you are.

"God, you're so wet. I'm going to make this pretty little pussy gush for me." He slips a thick finger into you, followed by a second and he's thrilled to realise you'll be able to take him already. He can take the edge off for you now and then take his sweet time licking his own load out of your fluttering cunt once he's given you what you need.

"Please." You whimper, noticing he's offered you nothing awfully useful. He hasn't curled his fingers to stroke your walls, he hasn't moved at all actually.

"I wanted to take my time with you." Bucky begins, removing his fingers and taking off his pyjama bottoms. "But that's not what you want right now, is it?"

You shake your head, giving in to your own desperation freely, knowing he'd want you to be honest.

"That's okay, sweetheart. Let's take good care of you." The residual heat of the fire warms your bare skin as Bucky arranges your thighs, settling himself between your legs.

"Good girl." Bucky hums, dragging his thick, bare cock through the evidence of your arousal, coating himself in the slick mess between your legs. "So pretty for me."

He watches the way your body accommodates him so willingly and your whines remind him not to keep you waiting.

His thick, leaking tip presses to your entrance and the feeling of him sliding into you is breathtaking. It always is.

Both of you stop breathing for a few short seconds until he's slid the whole way home, buried as deep inside you as your bodies will allow.

"Hey, look at me." Bucky whispers, holding the side of your face gently with one hand, making you realise you'd closed your eyes.

"You're so beautiful, you know that?" He begins to pull back slowly before pressing back in, setting a slow rhythm.

If feels wrong not to tell him the same. It's wrong not to tell him how wonderful you think he is. It's not fair to let the moment pass without mentioning that you love getting to do this with him and be vulnerable but still feel safe. You love having him in your space and spending time together and getting to enjoy these tender, intimate moments at the most random of times. But those aren't thoughts for now. Those are thoughts for when you're both fully satisfied and cuddling together, breathless and tired and entirely aglow on this same carpet later this evening.

That feels right.

"You are the most incredible man I've ever met." You reply instead, tugging gently on his soft, dark hair to pull him into a kiss.

You hear him groan against your lips, offering the same intensity as before. He speeds up his thrusts to match his mouth, sliding in and out of you with purpose and a delightful need to spill his release into you as he's coaxing yours from you.

"Play with yourself." His instruction is clear and driven by his own need. He needs to feel you cum before he can allow himself to do the same and his orgasm really seems to have snuck up on him.

Your hand slips between your bodies with a practiced ease, finding the little bundle of nerves between your legs, rubbing it in tight circles.

"Good girl. Fuck, I wish you knew how you feel. So wet and soft and warm." He hasn't taken his eyes off your face and that only lets you see how pleasure is evident all over his. He's almost overwhelmed and it's so lovely to watch.

"Fuck, I'm so close." You whine, begging him not to change a single thing. Not his pace, not his angle, nothing. This is perfect.

"Cum for me, sweetheart. Go ahead, I'm right behind you. I've got you."

The release is all consuming for a good few seconds, your body fluttering and twitching, milking Bucky's from him and he so willingly gives it to you. He groans gentle praises as he works both of you through your highs, taking every ounce of pleasure he can get from you while giving you as much as possible.

When your peak and his have both subsided, he slips out of you, giving himself a second to catch his breath.

"If you weren't on the Naughty List before, you definitely are now." You giggle, kissing his forehead repeatedly.

"I'm just getting started." He smiles, kissing your lips before moving down your body to kiss between your thighs.

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

I couldn’t find your rules so I’m sorry if it isn’t ok to do requests but plsss elaborate on secret chubby chaser iida

My only rules for this blog are to be nice and have a good time 💕

CW: chubby fem reader, "fat" used in a nonderogatory way, mentions of porn and masturbating, Iida is emotionally underdeveloped and doesn't realize that liking big girls is a normal thing

───────────────

Okok but listen. Imagine Tenya Iida growing up thinking he has to fit a certain mold. His family has expectations for him and he wants to meet those expectations, including those that they have for relationships. His family never specifies what kind of partner they want for him, but based on his observations with media, he believes that he's supposed to find and pursue a certain type of girl. Based on movies, books, TV, etc, Iida has come to the conclusion that he needs to pursue a skinny girl, because that's what all the love interests look like in the media he consumes.

But Iida finds himself drawn to other women, women with soft bodies, curves, ones with plush arms and legs and tummies. He thinks he's weird for liking fat women since the only time he's seen them in media is in a negative context, he thinks he's abnormal for liking bigger women. I mean, big women are a porn category, not people you settle down and have a life with... right?

He thinks he has a fetish for plus size women because he's never been taught that his attraction for bigger people is normal regardless of how they look like. So, he keeps his feelings a secret, indulging in porn of larger women but never going out of his way to date bigger women. He dates a few women, all fit and skinny, but he doesn't find himself attracted to these women. He thinks all of this is normal for a long time.

Oh but then he meets you. He saves you from a villain and carries you to the medic and oh god, you're so soft, so warm, so plump and squishy, he wants to melt into you and sleep for a thousand years. He somehow gets your number, maybe because you bonded over something, but you keep in contact after the attack.

Iida starts having a crisis. He likes you: you're brilliant, funny, cute, gorgeous beyond compare, but he's worried he just wants to fuck you. His only experience with plus size women has been one sided through porn, he genuinely does not know how to approach you or gain your favor. Be patient with him because he will fumble for a long time, he just doesn't know what to do.

I imagine he still casually dates a few women, none of which look like you, because he's trying to train himself to like "normal" women, but he just can't. No matter how hard he tries, he can't get you out of his head. He's even started masturbating to the thought of you and he feels like such a perv because of it, but he can't help himself. To him, you're walking temptation, your curves making him go crazy. He wants to touch you, to kiss you, to treat you like a queen, but he thinks he's expected to like other women so he thinks he can't have you! He is a stupid stupid guy sksksk

You'll probably have to make the first move, because knowing him, he'll never approach you first. He will be confused but overjoyed, agreeing to whatever you want to do for your first date. He'll be stiff and awkward because he's not sure what to do, but just give him time. Eventually he will get the hang of things and initiate holding your hand, putting his arm around your shoulders or waist, he'll even kiss your hand after a date! He'll become more comfortable as time goes on so expect him to get more and more confident.

It will take him a long time to accept his feelings for you as normal because he doesn't know any better. Please don't hold it against him. He will never treat you bad or hide your relationship, but he will voice his concerns that his family won't accept you (this isn't true, he just assumes this) which may make you feel bad. I can see things getting a little angsty at some points because you may think he doesn't fully accept you as a partner. But he does, he just doesn't know how to show it. You two probably have a big fight about it and you leave him and he shows up at your door like a sad wet kitten and you take him back when he tells you that he made dinner reservations to introduce you to his family. Then it's happily ever after from then on sksksk

───────────────

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

Leah's Halloween Extravaganza: Butcher's Lane

(This was for Spooktober 2024! Prompt: skeleton & paranoia TW: cannibalism (as always))

*****

Butcher's Lane at night was a sight to see. The town council hadn't gotten around to repairing the lamps, so they flickered like the set of a horror movie, dying with buzz-filled screams. The streets reeked of piss, like a thousand terrified animals had urinated on it as they were dragged to their death. The worst of all, however, was what Butcher's lane was named after: the reek of butcher shops.

I ignored the grumbling in my stomach. How many days had it been now? 5? 6? The last of my water supply was dwindling, and they were growing more insistent on pushing their foods on me.

They weren't people, not like you and I. They ate the poisoned food with no problems, not even registering what killed you. It scares me, old friend, to see these things walking around wearing human skins. 

They recognise me as other, from the bones that poke out from my skin, from the growling of my stomach, from the blood on my cracked lips. I wonder if they understand that I know what they are, if they understand that they cannot convince me to fall for their trap, if they understand that the only way to take me is to pry my jaws open and pour that foul, foul food into my maw.

Gods, I was so hungry. It took everything in me to resist the urge to eat something, anything. I just wanted a meal. The half eaten burger sticking out of the trash was such a temptation, almost as bad as the rotting offal in the gutter. They were both tainted, of course, so I kept walking. 

Are you wondering, old friend, if I'm about to join you? Fret not. I will not succumb to being mere bones. Your precious teeth will not mingle with mine beneath the ground. I am better than that.

I kept walking, hands in pockets, all four of them. When I got cold, I interlaced mine with yours, stroking the exposed bone. The mimics in their disgusting butcher shops stared at me as I walked. It was almost as if they'd never seen a woman carrying a skeleton around, or as if they didn't know how to behave like a real person. My stomach growled at the thought.

All that meat in the butcher shop, cured ham and dried lamb and sausage links stinking like heaven. It made something deep in my chest shudder with lust. But- I wouldn't touch the fakes' tainted food. I kept walking.

Home was a little hovel at the end of Butcher's Lane. Something up there must have been laughing at me when it placed me there, right alongside the street full of diabolical meat.

Thinking about it made me glad you were nothing but bone. You were pure, unlike me. I'd tried to keep the taint from touching my flesh, but with it in everything the fakes ate, there was only so much I could do. I imagined it corrupting my flesh already, and shuddered in disgust.

But I heard you whispering to me. Your voice is like the sweetest of flesh, so tender and juicy and- Oh, how could I insult you by comparing you to tainted meat? You are bone, dry and safe and utterly unlike the delicious crunch-explosion of metal on my tongue.

I am listening, old friend. I hear you when you suggest that I eat. I know you worry, and I'm glad that you do. Truly, it warms my heart that you fear me wasting away.

But what am I to do? All the food here is tainted, and if I eat any food whatsoever, I'll end up tainted myself. Then who will be there to protect you?

Eat them? Are you out of your mind? That would destroy me! Why, they've got a higher concentration of toxin than anything else in this town! One bite of that tender, tender flesh, and I'd be shot to hell! Besides, it's cannibalism, and cannibalism is ‘bad’. I'm careful, not crazy.

Oh, I never thought of it that way. You're right. They aren't human, ergo eating them isn't cannibalism. That's so clever! See, this is why you're the brains of the operation. But still… what of the toxins?

Don't worry about them?! Of course I'm worried! Do I look like I want to die? 

I- Huh. I see. That… That might just be true, old friend. That might just be true. But if it isn't, it's my head on the line, not yours. Why should I risk it? 

Yes, of course I trust you. You're my best friend, the only one standing by my side against this horrid invasion. I'd follow you anywhere, you know that. Or at least drag your skeleton anywhere.

Alright, alright, you win. I'll go grab myself a bite of one of them. Which shop should I stop at? The butcher's? There is a certain irony to it, I must admit. I like it.

I dropped my old friend on the ground, letting their bones clatter unceremoniously. Brushing dust off my stained skirt, I strolled into the butcher shop. Immediately, one of them turned to stare at me. There was horror and disgust on his face, as though he were mimicking my expression. Fool thing: didn't he know I saw right through him?

“Hey there, mind letting me over the counter?” I batted my eyes at him.

He stared blankly, as though I'd grown a second head. I must admit, I should have been more careful about the whole affair. If he hadn't been so shocked by my hubris, I might have been in real trouble. “Miss, the shop's closed for the day. You have to come back another time. Please,” he added hurriedly, hands scrambling to find something. I had a sneaking suspicion it was a butcher knife.

Of course one of them would try to kill me. I launched myself over the counter before he could attack, fingers scratching and clawing at his eyes with ferality. “Die, monster, die!”

Righteousness must have lent me strength and luck in equal measure, for I overwhelmed him to the floor and caught his knife as it fell, plunging the tip right into his chest. A spurt of blood, red and luscious and oh-so-delicious, shot up, splattering my face. I closed my eyes and let his death coat me.

It felt so good to fight back. All this time spent fearing the taint, nursing that growl in my stomach, enduring the eternal hunger as it grew, and at last I was finally freed of my shackles. 

It was then that I let myself succumb to the hunger. I know, old friend, self-control is a key virtue. But just this once, I let myself go. 

I mean- how often does one get to feast?

My fingers dug into soft, loamy flesh, stuffing it into my mouth. I ate like an animal, tearing apart his ribcage, shoving my face in the cavity where all the organs, the good bits, were. I squeezed the stuffing out of his intestines and gulped them down. I sucked his eyeballs right out of their sockets. I ate and ate and ate until I was stuffed, and then I ate some more.

There was something luscious in the act, the devouring of a hostile being, taking them and making them yours. I loved it. I loved the waves of ecstasy that flooded me as I bit his throat, as I savoured the bile of his liver, and I straddled his violated corpse and ate his and my hearts out. I loved him, in that moment, loving my enemy wih a passion that I didn't know I had.

Old friend, old friend, was the start of my fall? That lying on the floor, clothes ripped and stained, panting in ecstasy, body pressed up against his corpse? Was that the moment the slippage of my sanity began, at your cajoling? Was that your intention all along, to tempt me into madness?

You traitor, tainting me deliberately, in a way I, so afraid of a different kind of taint, could never have seen coming. Oh, but you were right about one thing.

Insanity felt so, so very good.

Taglist: @coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch

@tragedycoded, @finickyfelix, @urnumber1star, @ratedn, @ramwritblr

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west, @differentnighttale

@evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms, @xenascribbles

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @owldwagitoutofyou, @dimitrakies, @beloveddawn-blog

@riveriafalll, @the-golden-comet, @rascaronii, @trippingpossum, @real-fragments

@unrepentantcheeseaddict, @the-inkwell-variable, @paeliae-occasionally, @an-indecisive-nerd, @thecomfywriter

@seastarblue, @wyked-ao3

[muzansfangs]

Guilty pleasure.

Starring: Muzan x f!reader; Douma x f!reader; Akaza x f!reader Giyuu x f!reader; mention to Shinobu x Giyuu; Zenitsu, Nezuko, Tanjiro, Inosuke, Sabito, Daki, Nakime mentioned;

Warnings: mention to nsfw, language, grief, mourning, paranoia, conflicting feelings, hangover, possessiviness, yandere behavior, mention to body horror, stalking, brute behavior, jealousy;

Plot: dealing with a terrible hangover, you come across the news of what had happened yesterday night. Muzan interrupting your research though only make you remember that you could not trust him. The temptation to somehow defend yourself and your heart from him begin you arise and you find yourself swimming in the grey sea of paranoia and questionable actions. In the meanwhile, Giyuu is saying goodbye to his old friend and, now, more than ever, he needs you.

MASTERLIRST | PRIVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

BURY A FRIEND.

"Before you start questioning my appearence, I had a bad dream, yeah. Like, I fucking thought I made out with Kokushibo" you grumbled, hands tightly wrapped around your warm mug as you scrunched up your face for the bad headache you were currently experiencing.

You surely had learnt your lesson. Never drink that much again, not for a man anyway.

Your body ached, as you tried to discern reality from the blurry imagines pestering your mind. You just remembered one thing: you had drunk that much because Muzan had not showed up at your date. It was foolish to hurt yourself like that for someone like him, but maybe you had started to let him in. How could you not? His charm and mannerism would have not left anyone indifferent. Not even you.

Akaza almost choked on his coffee, his eyes widening even so slightly as he coughed at your revelation "It sounds like the intro of a scary movie" he simply commented, leaning against the kitchen counter, as he locked eyes with you.

"It is. The cherry on top was the argument with the white-haired bitch..." you added, pinching the bridge of your nose and wincing softly for the sharp pain in your head. You needed a pain killer, there was no doubt about it.

"Douma?" Akaza inquired, quirking his eyebrows up questioningly.

You chuckled softly, shaking your head and hopping down from the stool you were sitting on "The other bitch" you clarified and, judging by Akaza's knowing look, he immediately realized who you were talking about.

"Oh, she's about to come and grab her coffee. Girls fight?" he asked, an amused grin crossing his lips as you stared at him horrified by the news. With all the stuff you had to do that morning, the last thing you needed was bumping into her again, therefore you were quick to wave your hand at him and walk back towards your room.

Drawing your phone from the back pocket of your jeans, you checked the news. Among more gossip about Muzan and the mysterious girl he helped out at the park, your attention was caught by a specific breaking news.

"BOMBS IN THE UBUYASHIKI INDUSTRY: FOUR VICTIMS FOUND ON THE SCENE".

You were about to click on the link, when someone behind you cleared his throat and you hastily locked the screen in panic, your grip on the phone almost slipping. Whipping your head towards the direction of the voice, your eyes met Muzan's ones. He was already dressed to leave, his outfit impeccable as per usual, his expression somehow softer than what you were used to. Maybe, he was about to apologize for having stood you out at the restaurant. Your sharp tongue obviously did not miss the chance to taunt him about it.

"You've been a jerk" you said, folding your arms over your chest and showing off a forced smile.

Muzan quirked his eyebrow up "Oh, good morning to you too" he replied, not moving an inch from where he was standing. His plum red eyes travelled attentively up and down your frame, assessing that you were probably about to leave too.

"Well, you said you wanted to really try to court me. Having your First in Command attend the date you had planned for us at your place was kind of a turn off" you punctuated, narrowing your eyes at him as you motioned to enter your room.

His voice, however, made you halt.

"That's why I have taken the morning off from my duties. I would like to spend some quality time with you. No guards around, no one to disturb us. Just you and I" he explained, sounding genuine despite his monotone tone of voice. This was weird. Yet, it was surely a good way to make amend. The bastard surely knew how to play his cards right.

You cocked your head to the side, your foreteeth sinking onto your bottom lip as you let his words sink in. You were still kind of puzzled by it, but you could not help the soft smile stirring on your face. You were up for it. This relationship, fake or real, had to work. Was there even a better way of acting natural around your partner than settling down and spending time together?

"What exactly are you planning, Muzan?" you asked him, leaning your shoulder against the closed door and staring up at him in curiosity.

The raven-haired politician straightened his black satin tie and locked eyes with you once again "I want to know you better, that's all" he declared.

You parted your lips in disbelief, but it did not last long, as your eyes narrowed and you decided to simply ask him the main question that had been haunting you throughout the night "Where were you yesterday night?" you asked him, mouth unnaturally dry for the fear of receiving an answer you would have not liked.

What if he was with Daki, or Nakime?

Your stomach churned at that thought, your heart thrumming in your chest while you waited for him to answer you. You found it odd how the possibility of him spending the night with another woman irked you more than the idea of him plotting crimes. Perhaps, your subconscious had come to terms with the fact that he was a criminal. But a cheater, well, it was a whole other story.

"I attended a poker night with some gentlemen in some private club. I brought Douma and Nakime with me and that's the till receipt. Feel free to call the club, if you do not trust me" he answered, no hesitation in his voice as he pulled a small piece of paper from his wallet and handed it to you.

He knew how to lie and he did not have to think twice to do it. In his head, this was the rightest thing he could do. Why? He wanted to protect you, it was obvious, but probably the answer to the fatal question implied by that concept made his own veins shiver. Who did he want to keep you safe from?

The answer was plain and simple: from himself.

When you then grasped that piece of paper and your gaze flicked up to meet his one, he knew he had tricked you. He did not like the idea of playing with you like that, leaving you completely oblivious of his nefandous actions, but he could have not stood to see you staring at him the way you did when he had killed your father before your eyes. What if he triggered something in your mind and you remembered? What if you ran away from him?

You could not run from him.

"Oh, I see. — you said, as you read the name of the club printed on the small, creased rectangular paper — You know, I would have come with you, if you had asked me to. I totally suck at playing cards games, but I know how to behave" you reasoned, your stomach churning once again at the thought that getting involved with him was living with constant trust issues.

He was not lying now, was he? He had given you evidence of where he was and, you even had the club name as a reference, in case you wanted to check on his alibi.

He was about to take the receipt back, your hand stretched out to hand it to him, when the sound of Douma's voice rang in your ears and Muzan turned around to face him. It was right in that moment that the devil on your shoulder, whispering wicked melodies to you, began to chant his plan in your ear.

As Douma waved his hand at you, you smiled at him, but you did not listen to any word coming out of his or Muzan's mouth, for what could matter. All you were focused on was Muzan's back facing you as Douma showed him something from a tablet. It was the perfect timing. You glanced at the phone in your left hand, checking if it was mute, before swallowing down forcefully.

Do it. Check it. Prove him wrong.

Your headache was almost getting worse, as you tried to fight back the malicious intent to investigate further. What would you have done, if you somehow succeeded in solving the puzzle? This was not you, this was not your style. You were not this person, were you? Plotting a vendetta was not in your plan, just like falling in love with such a morally grey man.

But, apparently, living in a house in which the most innocent inhabitant was a stalker taking compromising pictures of people and doing wax play on his colleague's bed was affecting you.

As you glanced at the club's name alluring you to become a 'spy', you did it. Yielding to your impulse, you took a quick picture of the receipt and exhaled, after locking the screen of your phone once again. You had taken the first step in becoming a psychotic moon too. The thrill of having done something like that right under Muzan's nose felt almost exciting, almost as if you were the one in charge this time.

"No. I will personally accompany her to buy the dress for the Gala. Cancel all of my meetings for tomorrow evening" Muzan said then, snapping you out of your stream of consciousness and reminding you of the big day in which you have probably been announced as Muzan's new official flame.

As Muzan glanced back at you, his dark eyebrow up as you stared at him with the face of a toddler listening to her parents talking about her, you flashed him a thin-lipped smile and pretended nothing had happened.

Douma hummed and cocked his head to the side, his eyes locking with yours as you started to feel a little discomfort at the thought that, the last time you met him, he had witnessed to you moaning like a pornstar while riding Muzan. You needed to get out of that situation and you ended up saying the first thing that came to your mind.

"Douma, I'm glad to see your nose is no more swollen" you noted, hinting at the punch your soon to be husband had kindly delivered to him in the parking lot.

"Ah, you're so sweet, sweetheart! My nose has gone back to be pretty!" Douma beamed, winking at you, only for Muzan to dart his plum red homicidal eyes back on him in contempt.

"Leave, unless you'd like to get plastic surgery this time" Muzan flatly stated, as you felt your jaw go slack in utter shock for what he had just said.

The eerie silence swallowing the corridor made you question if Muzan really meant every word he had said. Of course, he did. He had not hesitated to punch Douma right away in tha past and he surely had done far way more deranged things to people. You did not comprehend why it was still kind of hard for you to picture him covered in someone else's blood. Maybe it was because you were catching feelings for him, or because you would have loved him to be a better man.

As Douma shrugged and turned his back at you two to leave, you sighed and nudged Muzan's ribs in irritation "Oi, was this really necessary?" you flatly asked him, furrowing your brows and grasping his hand to slap the receipt onto his palm not so gently.

Muzan towered over you, his eyes reduced to two slits now, while he closed his hand in a fist a dropped his arm down his side. His free hand reached up, grasping your chin between his thumb and forefinger, before leaning down and kissing you slowly.

Your eyes widened even so slightly, your lips moving in sync with his ones, while your body relaxed authomatically under the influence of his kiss. You had missed him, you had missed the feeling he was capable of giving you, that unhinged turmoil of emotions leaving you wide awake at night.

But as he suddenly pulled back and stared down at you with his typical stern face, you shot an interrogative glance at him, which he returned with your same question "Was this really necessary?" he inquired, making you sigh and roll your eyes.

♚

"Which Moon did this?" the raven-haired Slayer merely said, his tone barely audible as his ocean blue eyes were transfixed on the dead body of his friend. He knew their lives were in constant danger. He had seen his fair number of dead comrades to say he could have been the next one laying on the metallic table, covered by nothing but a white blanket.

However, he somehow always refused to foresee this event involving him.

He hoped this was an illusion, some terrific lucid dream, but it was real. Fox, his best friend, the boy with a peculiar scar on his cheek and those weird lavender eyes was dead. Sabito was dead. Calling him by his code name was useless. He was gone forever.

Grasping the hem of the blanket, he tugged it up over his pale face and took a few steps back, waiting for Shinobu to speak.

She stayed silent for several seconds, before taking her gloves off and tossing them in the bin "Actually, it was not a Moon. Inosuke's mother had a 'K' carved onto her cheek. It's rare for him to take matters into his hands but, when he does, he always makes sure to leave his mark" she said, her gaze flicking up over his face. His jaw was clenched, his hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers as he listened carefully to her.

They were all mourning. Yet, Shinobu never lost her occasion to sneakily get what she wanted. Someone would have said she was insensible, cunning and detached from the world. But how could she cry over the body of someone she never even considered her friend, when he had not even had the decency of expressing his condolences to her when Kanae had died? All because he thought she was only a snake.

"You look terrible. — she chimed then, walking up to him and reaching her hand up to stroke his cheek — Come with me. I can fix that" she said lowly.

But she was not probably ready for his reaction. His hand latched around her wrist tightly, causing her to widen her eyes in shock and wince in pain, while he glared at her "Shut the hell up. Stay away from me" he hissed, roughly pushing her away as she ended up hitting the lockers behind her with her back.

She scoffed, her eyes narrowing as she massaged the bruised area of her tiny wrist. If eyes could kill, Giyuu would have probably been dead by now. She did not have much time to say anything, or react, for he had stormed out of the morgue, slamming the door behind him.

He was dead inside, his heart pumping the blood so fast he felt his ears ringing. He could not spend another minute of that day there with the others. He dashed out of the building, his hand grasping the keys of his car in his pocket, and he only slowed down when he spotted the new recruits gathered in a small circle in the parking lot. He was not good at comforting people, he kept his distance, watching the way the Kamado silblings, Shinobu's younger sister and Zenitsu tried to provide a shoulder to cry on to Inosuke.

They were so young. He remembered the day they were announced to be the newest addition to the Corps. He would have loved to discourage them, tell them to leave and explore the limiteless possibilities life offers to the young generation. Talking, however, was not his forte. Grief, pain, mourning, fear and anger were what made people grow up.

Sabito was not inexperienced, still he had succumbed. Hopping into his car, he wondered who would have been the next among those young recruits. Thunder? Beast? They were both fragile right now. The former dealing with the betrayal of his cousin, the latter devastated by the loss of his mother. Ribbon? Flame? They were broken beyond repair but, as long as they stack together as one, nothing could truly bring them down. What about Cherry, though? Shinobu's younger sister, the pride and joy of the late Kanae, the girl esteemed to be more skilled than Shinobu. She was pretty damaged too.

But that was nonsense talk. No one facing death was ready to die. No matter how much damaged you are, when a blade is on your neck, you do not push your jugular on the edge.

Unless you do it to protect someone.

Giyuu groaned, his knuckles turning pale for the tight grip on the steering wheel as he pushed the gas pedal and drove down the street with blurry eyes. Only one name was in his mind now, one face and one smile he wished to cherish and protect for the rest of his most likely numbered days. And it was you. You were the only one he cared about.

As he stopped at a red light, he grasped his phone and texted you. He did not need to add details, pour his heart, or what was left of it, into the words. You would have understood, because you were the only person who knew him better than anyone else. You were his little hope in a desolate land crowded by monsters and shadows.

GIYUU: Meet me at the rooftop tonight.

How many nights he had spent with you, sitting on the rooftop of your old house, a blanket around you two as you rambled about the ghosts of the past and the fears of your future. Growing up, this habit did not change. He always met you on a rooftop, he always brought you your favorite blanket, but you sipped on beers on the rooftop of your new house now.

Under the same old starry sky, he needed to cry tears on your shoulders that tasted like remorses, for he had changed the shift with Sabito that night too and the dead body in that room should have been his one.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! As I have previously announced, here we are with another Chapter. The story is slowly approaching a turning point. Lot of things are yet to come. I’m sorry to break it to you, but pain, like, a lot of pain, is going to crash over those folks. Yay, I’m a sucker for angst, I’m sorry!

As per usual, likes, comments and re-posts are greatly appreciated.

Until next,

x o x o

TAGS: @persuasivus @mrskokushibo @ladytamayolover @tired-writer04 @hjjks @kakuchosbff @yazzzmints @bookandstar @z3rOart @cherrymanhuas @kazuhaslvt @selenenyx0124 @infinitedilf @yunixkill @shigarakithings @i-loveyou013 @yoriichi-second-wife @sunaswife @lucikittyxoxo @heartsforjeongin @ishmealmendes @wondermilka @dangerousdreamkitty @crazycatlddy

[kairiscorner]

okokk hear me OUT, you know that movie jennifer check by megan fox?? the succubus demon that loves to seduce men and trick them inti having sex with her before she eats them? can you imagine her snd miguel?? like idk maybe the team thought that she’d be a great addition and also bc she ‘promised’ to be good but miguel’s like ??!?! fuck no that bitch maybe hot but she kills men and bat shit crazy yet one single look at her and he melted like a goddamn puddle

HI, oh yo...... reader sounds kinda hot ngl, i volunteer to be seduced and eaten ✋ I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS !!

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

miguel o'hara x succubus!reader

summary: you were dangerous, awfully dangerous–but you were powerful and a great asset to have in the spider society. the only one opposed to your addition to the team was him, who was way of every move you were gonna make here in HQ. but of course... he's only human, partially human, at least–he's weak when it comes to you, but he'll never admit it. word count: 679 a/n: might make an nsfw version of this on my sideblog HEHE this is pretty sfw for the most part, just some suggestive content below the cut, so be warned

"you've got a lot of spunk for someone that can easily be killed when you don't get fed. for such a... pathetic creature..." miguel trailed off as he felt your fingers creeping up on his broad chest, his gaze never leaving yours as you purred in a low voice and inched closer and closer to him. miguel gulped back the lump in his throat and coughed a little to compose himself. "...a pathetic creature that steals lives doesn't... have any place in my elite for–" "do i have a place in your bed, then?" you asked him in a suggestive whisper, with miguel gasping silently and taking in a deep breath, holding it in as you leaned closer towards him with a wide grin on your face.

"i'm talking to you." miguel said in a stern voice as you giggled, tracing over the curve of his waist. he grabbed your wrist and pulled you closer to his face, with his eyes going red as he glared at you with an evident frown. "you won't feed on me. i know what you're doing, and it's not gonna work." he seethed as he tried to keep his composure, but you were more cunning than him. you leaned over to him and planted a kiss on his nose, which he grumbled at... but released your wrist from his grasp. you didn't pull away from him, however, you instead sauntered over to him even closer and breathed down his neck; which... he really did not hate.

miguel shuddered as he felt you press your lips against his neck, feeling his face all the way down to his shoulders get hotter and hotter. he shut his eyes as he furrowed his eyebrows together in a frustrated manner. he was frustrated with how gwen and peter b took you in despite the danger you posed, how he now has to deal with you, how... how well your charms worked on him before the real seduction began. he was frustrated with how much you're making him want you.

"tell me..." you muttered as you placed your hands on his chest and gazed at him with a burning desire in your eyes, a dangerous, fiery desire dancing in your pupils. "...are you going to be good for me?" you asked him, and despite every single voice in his mind telling him to say no, no to your temptation, no to your seduction... "...yes." miguel uttered as you brought your lips closer to his own, your fangs baring as you chuckled. "good boy..." you whispered as miguel leaned closer to meet you halfway–when he suddenly lunged forward, baring his own longer, sharper fangs, and pinned you against the ground. you hissed as his weight kept you on the floor, his face only inches away from yours. you scratched at him, but he didn't let up. "look at me." he uttered as you looked at him from the corner of your eyes. "don't ever think... i'm that easy to fool." he said as his nose brushed against yours, his red eyes bearing into yours. "do i make myself clear?"

you slowly nodded as miguel's grip on you lightened, and he retracted his fangs. he pulled away and got off you not long after and went back over to his platform to monitor the multiverse. "i'd love to play with you again sometime, miggy." you said in a teasing tone as you strut out of his office, with him not sparing you a second glance or another word. "you thought that was super hot, didn't you?" lyla asked him teasingly. "keep tabs on her movements." miguel ordered her as she raised an eyebrow. "why, so you can ask her to–" "i'm not gonna ask her for any favors." "not even...?" "...at least not yet." miguel finished as the warmth in his whole upper body from you charming him up remained, and he just can't shake it off on his own. he'd be keeping an eye on you from now on... a very, very close eye on you from now on.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @fiannee @popeheywardssecretgf @arachnoia @melovetitties @ophanimgold @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok

[toiletwipes]

because we're friends | simpbur

~2.4k words / i tried my best to make it gender neutral reader but if there's any mistakes, feel free to let me know. [after hanging out with a friend and getting caught in the rain, simpbur takes his friend to his apartment to stay for the night. and he can't be normal and his friend knows.] 18+, minors do not interact.

You were just staying the night, for the night only. It’s pouring and you both walked here and both of you are broke idiots, he chants inside of his head, whatever could happen won’t happen. To take advantage of you while you’re helpless and with a dead phone? The temptation is there, his fingers twitch in his lap, the two of you sitting across from each other on his discounted couch.

You were just a friend who was just staying the night. Just that.

And yet, his mind runs from him. Because watching you watch some random movie, the flashing lights on your face only highlights what he likes seeing. Likes the dips and curves of your face, the way your eyelashes bat at him when you beg him to buy you something at the store. The way you pout at him. Fuck. He can’t stop looking at your mouth now. His mind runs from him and he can’t stop imagining you with spit-slick lips, bruised lips, lips wrapped around-

“-rything alright there, Wilby?” And the fucking nickname, his face burns. He lets out a low hum, focusing back on reality, looking you in the eyes. You’re not that concerned, only noticed his staring just now, most likely not aware how long he has been. (The answer being the entire time you’ve been watching your show.)

“Good. Just thinking.” Mhm, thinking he is, alright. But you smile, nodding and looking back to the screen, wiggling in your seat as you get comfortable. You send him a look as you stuff your feet underneath his legs. They’re cold, he notices and he can’t handle the effect you have on him. Fuck’s sake, your feet are only underneath his legs, but you’re touching him. Willingly, and willingly leaving yourself vulnerable. In no less than a second could he pin you down and work his fingers inside you, bruise your lips anyway he’d like. Because you trust him.

Both his fingers and his dick twitches.

And because you trust him, you end up scooting closer to him and his chest heaves with impure thoughts and desires. You don’t notice though. Switching the way you’re seated leaves you leaning against his side, with his arm tucked awkwardly behind you. But even then, you hum to yourself before reaching behind and pulling on his hand, wrapping it around your waist. His fingers graze uncovered skin by your stomach. He nearly jerks back before he forces himself to relax.

And his mind races. This position you’ve put yourself in. Tucking yourself into his side and wrapping yourself in him, letting him touch your bare skin. His heart pounds inside of his chest and he almost hopes you can feel him sporting a boner. He wants to shove his hand down your pants, up your shirt, in your mouth, fuck, the options were endless. More than anything, he wanted to push your face into the couch cushion and fuck you till you begged him to stop. And so again, his fingers twitch and you jerk away, giggling. “Sorry,” he mumbles, already pulling his hand away.

You shake your head, pulling on his hand again and even pushing it onto more uncovered skin, pushing your shirt up a little more. “I’m just ticklish.” And you twist your face a little just to smile at him.

He had so many questions, they’re just threatening to spill out of his mouth and fumble the wording and fuck everything up. But most of them are lewd and unbecoming of the friendship you’ve allowed him. Still, his fingers twitch and this time you relax as he flexes them, flattening them against your skin.

His own skin feels aflame, sensitive to every movement you make and he can’t even tell what the show was about. What they’re saying, who they are, they’re all lost to him.

And he misses a question. “Sorry, I spaced out- what did you say?” He tries to be casual but your next words send a shock through his veins.

“I’m not even surprised, I said, Wilbur- are you gonna keep staring at me or are you going to do something about it?” And his bones turn into stone, everything about him freezes and he can’t move. As if he had ice in his system and not blood.

“What can- what can I do?” His breathing starts again but it’s heavy, his head light from the lack of breathing and blood flow. Unknowingly, his hand presses harder against your skin.

“You mean besides killing me?” You laugh but his mind moves ahead of him, even thinking of that too. His dick jumps at the thought of you, bleeding, staring at him. And he pushes it away, no, no he wouldn’t. Not when you’ve just given him explicit permission to- to-

Fucking hell.

Shifting in his seat, he keeps his hand on your skin, relishes it more now. But his other hand moves to wrap around your middle too, pulling you into his chest. “So I can- you’ll let me-” he cuts himself off as he presses into your back, feeling the full force of your soap hit him. The lotion you’ve told him about. He presses his nose and mouth hard against the skin between your shoulder and neck, breathing and moaning as he breathes out. Months of pining, months of looking at you, months of jerking off to you, months of wet dreams and months of pushing all of that away-

He can stop pushing the thoughts away, indulge in them a little. “Do you know how long I’ve thought about this?” He asks, one hand pressing on your stomach and the other slipping up to your chest, the fabric of your shirt hardly holds him back.

“This being?” Your voice hitches as his fingers graze your nipple, pinching, pulling, flicking.

“Touching you.” And his hand comes up to wrap around your throat, not so much squeezing as much as it’s just touching. Your skin is just so fucking soft. And it smells good. He can’t ever imagine being anywhere else anymore. And just as fast as he wrapped his hand around your throat, it slithers back down, both hands coming up to grope your chest, mouth moving as he licks the light sweat on your skin. Why you would wear a sweater to his apartment when there’s no air conditioning, is behind him, but it only serves him. He moans at the taste of salt, of sweat. Licks your skin in small circles, loving the taste of you.

Nudging your head to the side, he loves the way your chest heaves, the way soft whines and pants come out of you, loves to tweak the buds in between his knuckles and sucking at your neck, biting and kissing and moaning at the sounds that come out because of him.

“Are you gonna let me fuck you?” He asks, and he doesn't mean to, almost regrets it because wouldn’t that be a thought, to surprise you when he pulls your shorts down and shoves his cock inside of you. Oh, it’s so good, his dick jumps and he presses his body more into your back, nearly toppling the two of you over, and this way you can feel his dick against your back.

“Can you last that long?” Probably not but the way you tease him, it has him groaning against your wet skin, smelling so much like his spit.

“Don’t need to,” he mumbles, licking his way back up your neck and pressing closer, leans further to lick the skin of your jaw. Your head tilts back into his shoulder so nicely, he just has to suck a bruise into the skin there. And when he shoves his hand into your sweats, your mouth drops open and your eyes blink several times but they stay dilated.

“Wilb- fuck, Wilbur,” you whine as your hand reaches behind you, knocking his beanie off of his head and tugging on his hair. His mouth comes off of your skin as he moans, his hips jerking and rocking into your back. “If you keep touching me like that, I won’t- fuck, fuck, fuck.” He didn't care what the end of that sentence was going to be, he needed to hear what you sound like when you come. When he makes you come.

“Just like that, baby,” he mumbles, unable to close his eyes, pushing past the burning in his wrist as you whine right into his ear, your hips twitching and jerking on their own too as you make a mess over his fingers, his hand. You would’ve fallen face first into the cushion if he wasn’t holding you so close to him. “Just like that.”

The hand with you all over it goes right up to his mouth, licking every groove of his skin that’s covered in come, licking it all away and moaning at the taste. (The sight of which makes your insides burn, however boneless you are.)

In the next minute, he’s wiping the spit off of his hand on his own sweats, tugging at your sweater, which you take off gladly, and he shoves his hand between your body and your sweats, shoving them down. He feels your body shiver, bumps rising on your skin but all he feels is the intense burning of want, of need. He needs to be inside you right now, it drives him crazy.

“I’m so- so fucking close right now, I need you to tell me where I can come.” It’s like pulling teeth, speaking those words. You said anything, and fuck, maybe he might ignore whatever answer you have and come inside. His dick is so hard, he needs to be inside of you. He’s losing his fucking mind.

It’s as if you can hear his thoughts, or maybe he’s just saying them as they come, it doesn’t fucking matter. What matters is the grip tightening around his hair and you breathing out the word inside. The fucking butterflies he just felt. Fuck.

Shoving his pants down enough to pull his dick out, he smears pre-cum between your legs, your thighs, thrusting between them and the both of you moaning, it’s fucking bliss.

The moment he slips inside of you- he curses, you’re squeezing so tight around his cock, his mind blanks and he can only squeeze an arm around your stomach, the other one is squeezing the meat of your thigh, trying anything to hold back from blowing his load so fast when he just got his dick inside. “Fuck, f- I need a second,” and you’re breathlessly agreeing, squeezing his forearm, tugging his hair, whimpering in his ear. It’s almost too much entirely.

The pleasure doesn’t die down, but he manages to breathe through it, focusing on kissing your sweaty skin. And after a brief moment, you let go of his arm to pat it, asking if he’d be able to move now, leaning all of your weight onto him.

The first thrust out blinds him, pushing back in punches the breath out of his lungs. The way you’re breathing, sounds like you’re just as affected as him. He hopes, in a distant thought, that this wouldn’t be a one-time thing. Hopes that by the end of this, when the two of you are spent and exhausted and filthy, you’ll let him touch you again.

Minutes go by after slow jerks of his hips and then you whine, asking if he could go faster and fuck if his hips didn’t snap and the sound of skin smacking against skin, it’s enough to make the both of you groan. Fucking you, on his couch by the way, is the main wet dream. And the fact it’s happening right now? He’d come right then and there if he hadn’t worked so hard to come down from just that. Setting a much faster, a bit brutal pace, he’s hurtling towards his orgasm quickly, he can feel it.

“Let go of my hair,” he gasps, and as soon as you do, accidentally letting go of his forearm, he pushes on your shoulder and back, adjusting as needed as he works up to what he wanted to do earlier. Pressing your face into the cushion and fucking you like he’d die if he stopped. Your moans shift into sobs when he reaches around your front, burning at both ends.

And in a moment, in a flash, he squeezes your hip and leans over you, groaning as he spills come inside of you. He gives a few shallow thrusts, moaning over and over. And he stays there for a second, softening as he pulls out but groans anyways, the sight of his come spilling out of your hole? He acts without thinking, pushing two fingers to keep them in and your cries pull him out of his fuzzy head.

“Are you feeling okay?” He hums your name, pulling out his fingers and rubbing over your skin. Covering it in filth. His heart only pounds harder, he gets up from behind you, letting you lay on the couch. Fuck, seeing your hazy eyes, seeing you in a space he put you in from fucking you alone? He tries his best, grabs the blanket he’d tossed on the back of the couch and wipes you down, stomping the bubbling feeling of something good in his chest as you whine from the touch. “Here, let me take you to bed,” dropping the blanket, he tries his best to help you up before biting his lip and picking you up, hurrying to his room as quickly as possible. He wasn’t the strongest guy out there, and if he dropped you in his attempt to help? When he fucked you- and didn’t that give him butterflies to think about, fucking you hard enough your legs are jelly.

It doesn’t take long for you to come down, wherever you went, and by then, you’re ready to sleep. He thought about tucking you in, because what sight that would be, but the thought of waking up to you in the morning? Maybe fucking you in your sleep if he woke up, hell, you fucking him awake, riding him and using him like he used you? It makes him bite down on his lip to hold back a moan as he slips into bed behind you. And it melts his insides whenever you shift to turn in your sleep, tucking yourself into his chest. Sighing deeply.

He’s so far gone on you.