#i could go on and on about how fucking good this show is

[harbingerofsoup]

btw psych is still the best network television show to ever air, no has ever done it like them and i doubt anyone ever will

[lamefish]

kento nanami is an anniversary man. nsfw

you think it's sweet, how he has the date of big events in his life on memory. when it's a loss, he'll take the day off to remember, with his head in your lap as he tells stories of whomever has passed. you listen intently, ask questions about them and watch as your husband recounts every good thing about a person.

he celebrates the good, too. almost excessively. the date you met is circled on the calendar, and kento will wake you up with breakfast in bed and a day of doting to show you just how important this anniversary is to him. you turned his world upside down in the best of ways, and what kind of man is he if not one to celebrate the light in his life?

of course, your wedding anniversary too. it's the one he goes all out for: more often than not you put a weekend aside to take a trip and spend some uninterrupted time together. you'll act as newlyweds again, because you still feel like newlyweds despite the passing years, and you'll be reminded over and over just how lucky you are to have found your soulmate in a man like kento nanami.

a man who is sentimental, and so very in love with you. and also celebrates the first time you had sex.

that first year, he had spent the day doting on you so profusely that you were convinced he was going to propose. he was pulling out all of the stops, taking you out fopr an expensive meal, dosing you with fine wines and so many kisses you could get drunk off the taste of him alone. he took you home, ran you a scented bath and took care of the house while you relaxed.

and of course the night ended in mind blowing sex—as your nights usually do. he had insisted on fucking you in missionary despite his recent penchant for taking you from behind and, once he has ripped two orgasms from you and was working on your third, he let it slip.

“we made love for the first time a year ago today,” he whispers against your lips, cock pulsing inside of you as he reaches deep inside of you. “just like this—looking into each others eyes, three orgasms from you, two from me. fell in love with you that night, do you know that honey?”

“you kept track of the day?” you cant finish your sentence without a moan breaking from your throat. “kento, you’re something else.”

“of course i did. it’s an important date, reaching such intimacies—feeling these beautiful velvet walls of yours for the first time… i’ll never forget it.”

you laugh, though it’s quickly swallowed by a kiss from your lover. he rocks his hips into you, feels every inch of his veiny cock disappear inside. he looks down to watch himself sink into you, though his gaze his brought back when you speak.

“three.”

kento blinks. “three what?”

“orgasms from you. you said you had two, but you came a third time right at the end—i milked you dry and you were so sex-drunk and exhausted but you insisted on making me food.” you reach down and grab his hand, the one that had been cupping at your chest, and hold it up for him to see the gentle scar that runs across his thumb. “you cut yourself slicing the bread because i fucked you mindless.”

it comes back to him in gentle flashes. you had, in fact, milked him of a third release. he had just been so out of his mind with nerves and pleasure that the memory had washed itself clean from his mind. he scolds himself mentally for ever daring to forget a detail about being intimate with you, but smiles.

“i remember,” he says. “you told me sex made you hungry so i wanted to incorporate it into your aftercare…”

“silly man,” you wrap your legs around his waist and lick your ankles behind him. with a gentle nudge, he’s forced that tiny bit deeper inside of you. “my silly man.”

kento moans—his eyes flutter shut and his lips catch between his teeth. he adores you—he really does. so much so that the sheer memory of his first time with you is quickly becoming too powerful of a memory to have.

and you, his beautiful other half, laid beneath him with lustful eyes and parted lips, smile up at him. “are we recreating our first time, ken? is that what this is?”

he nods, a little wordless as he tries to keep his mind straight.

“then i think you know what i’m going to do to you, my love.”

he smiles. “milk me for all i have. it’s all yours anyways.”

you lean up and kiss him. it’s slow, gentle, like your first kiss with him was. you taste him wholly on your lips and thank all the divine beings that may exist for putting such a man in your life’s trajectory. his cock twitches inside of you, he fills you out so perfectly.

still, you smile as you roll your hips up to meet his. “just let me handle the aftercare this time.”

[snowluvvie]

₊˚⊹ ♡ . LET’S GO TO VEGAS.

₊˚⊹ ♡ . minors dni 18+

₊˚⊹ ♡ . word count — 1.9k

₊˚⊹ ♡ . warnings — fem!reader, p in v, unprotected sex, established relationship, fingering (f receiving), creampie, biting, possessiveness

“Let’s—go—to—fucking—Vegas.”

Rafe’s voice was breathy, each word punctuated with a rough kiss, his teeth nipped at you harshly and his tongue had very little regard for the barrier of your lips, exploring your mouth like he was entitled to every inch of it.

He was.

His hands roamed your body aggressively, desperately, hands digging into your waist and your hips and reaching around to grip your ass in a way that forced a nervous giggle out of you, straight into his mouth, and he swallowed it along with every other cute noise you made.

“You’d look—so—fucking cute—in white.” His mouth moved to the corner of your lips, to your jaw, where he mouthed against the bone and sunk his teeth into your skin hard. You yelped, your fingers tugging at his hair, and he let out the smallest groan into your skin before soothing the quickly reddening mark with a drag of his tongue.

When Rafe got like this, you didn’t even have to participate half the time, all he needed was to claim you, to remind himself of how truly his you were. Without you even saying anything, he could ramble on and on and make himself rock hard just talking about the two of you. Like right now, when he was babbling about getting married in Vegas, and you could see the way his cock strained against his slacks. Painfully so, it looked like.

His hands dragged around your ass, kneading your skin and tugging on your panties. He pulled them taut so they rubbed against your clit suddenly, which was swollen from how bad you needed him, though of course you were letting him take his fill of everything else before he fucked you. He grinned proudly at the way your chest heaved, your eyebrows furrowing with frustration and discomfort as he basically gave you a wedgie for his own enjoyment—though of course, your half-lidded eyes and blown-out pupils told him everything he needed to know about how you were really feeling.

His shirt had been off for a while—as a matter of fact, you weren’t entirely sure if he’d showed up in one. The end result was the same, though. Your fingernails scrabbled lightly against his bare chest for purchase, his tanned muscles tensing under your touch, and you kept your eyes on him. Waiting, patiently, like you were supposed to.

That seemed to send him over the edge, eyes narrowing as he yanked your panties down, the lilac lace flashing against your thighs for only half a second before they were discarded on the floor. His hand was on you immediately, mouth finding yours again, and he teased your entrance with his fingers while he rubbed the flat of his palm tactlessly against your clit. His mouth was sloppy as he kissed you, his breath hot, and you were already whining and bucking your hips against him with every flick of his tongue against yours and rough press of his hand against your pussy.

“You’re my girl, right? Just mine, always.” He growled into your mouth.

This time you answered, nodding weakly, “yes, nghh, always.”

“Always what?”

Rafe should’ve known better than to keep trying to get coherent answers out of you when he was teasing your hole like this, fingers dipping halfway in, just enough to soak his hand, before he tugged them back out again. It provided barely any relief, only stoked the flames of desperation that were licking at your chest. But still, you answered—you were good like that.

“Yours. Always yours.” You whined into his mouth.

“Say you fucking swear.”

“I swear—fuck, Rafe, I swear!” As if you’d said the magic words, like that was all he needed to hear, he sunk two fingers inside of you, curling them and immediately finding the spot that had your head lolling forward, forehead pushed against him. He was unbelievably smug as he watched you, the way your swollen lips formed a near-perfect O as he finger fucked you, juices starting to drip down his hand.

“Please, please!” You keened, hips shoving against his hand roughly, like you could fit more inside of yourself on your own if you tried hard enough.

Always torn between reprimanding you for being difficult or giving in to the smug warmth that took over when you acted like this, he raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side. “Please what?”

You struggled with his fingers still moving in and out of you roughly, eyes hazy as you tried to focus on his face, “Please fuck me.”

“I am!” He had the audacity to sound falsely confused, even ramming his fingers more forcefully into you as if to prove his point. You gritted your teeth, though a loud moan managed to escape your mouth anyway, followed immediately by an annoyed whine.

Usually, this would go on for a lot longer. Like… a lot longer. Rafe would toy with you until you were sobbing, pulling his fingers out of you and shoving them into your mouth until tears formed in your eyes from how hard you gagged, and then he’d shove them back inside you, newly soaked. He’d watch your face intently as he made fun of you and edged you endlessly, and his face would break out into a massive grin when you would finally break down and start sobbing from it. Then, maybe, he’d give you what you wanted.

Not now, though. Not when he was in one of his moods.

As if to prove this point, he pressed his lips to yours again, moving them almost gently. Almost. You kissed him back, mewling quietly into his mouth as you leaned further into him. He pulled his fingers out of you, and your frustration at his sudden absence made you break away from the kiss to protest.

Before you could, though, you realized his hand was going to his belt. You watched as he undid his belt buckle sloppily, his hand still glistening with your juices and smearing them against the otherwise pristine metal.

“Be fucking patient—for two seconds.” Though his words were rough, his tone was too soft for him to really mean it, and he let out a sharp breath as his cock finally sprung free from his boxers, where you could still see the wet spot from his precum. The hand you had in his hair tightened to help you keep under control… the two of you had a longstanding issue—you tried desperately to grab his dick nearly every time you saw it, and every time he’d smack your hand hard enough to leave a welt and tell you the same thing—to be fucking patient for two seconds. You’d get it when he said so.

So, this time, you kept one hand in his hair and shoved the other under your thigh. Where they couldn’t grab him, unfortunately.

“That’s my girl.” He breathed, almost reverently. Your face heated up immediately, nearly falling over at how proud he was of you.

Rafe stroked himself a few times, his breath catching slightly as he did, and you watched with wide eyes the way his giant hand moved and how his hips reacted to it. He lined himself up with your entrance and pushed inside slowly, a courtesy he didn’t often give you, and your eyes rolled back immediately. The stretch was minimal, you’d actually always thought his cock fit right inside like the two of you were puzzle pieces (you’d been making an earnest observation when you’d told him that after your first time together, but he’d fucked you so hard afterwards that the bed frame cracked the wall behind it. So much for honest observations.)

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, eyes trained on Rafe as you frantically tried to drink in the sight of him all at once. His abs tensed as he thrust in and out of you, your body jolting every time he bottomed out. His straw-blonde hair was perfectly tousled from the way you’d ran your fingers through it, falling in his face just-so, his jaw clenched in concentration. His oceanic eyes flicked to yours and held your gaze, the two of you locked staring into eachother’s eyes, which set him off again:

“We can go to—that little white fuckin’ church in Vegas—and then—get a—fuck, oh, fuck!” He lost his rhythm a little as he got himself more riled up, and you whimpered against his neck as he sloppily increased his pace, “get a fucking hotel room—and I can fuck you there, too—cause you’ll be mine.”

“I am yours.” You managed to get out, and were rewarded with a hard thrust, kissing your cervix in a way that made you gasp. You squeaked, hands finding his shoulders for stability and digging into his muscles, which rippled with exertion from how tightly was holding onto you.

Rafe reached up to fasten his hand around your throat lightly, pulling your mouth to his in an open-mouth kiss that was more the clashing of teeth and his desperate tongue against yours than it was lips touching.

“I’m gonna… fuck, Rafe, I’m—” He didn’t let you finish, muffling the rest of your sentence with his mouth, though the way he sped up his hips told you he knew what you were going to say. His body was warm and solid against yours, one hand squeezing your throat reassuringly while he held you in place by your waist with the other, fucking you like it really was your wedding night, like he was showing you what the rest of the nights in your life were gonna look like. Your fingernails were practically claws against his shoulders, and his face twisted into a gleeful wince that told you it stung.

“Say my name—say it.” He demanded, the look on your face clearly alerting him to the spots dancing behind your eyelids, the coil tightening inside of you that was seconds away from springing. “Now.”

And you did, shouting his name as your orgasm ripped through your body. Every last muscle of yours tensed around Rafe, your legs locking up and your pussy clenching around him. You felt his dick twitch inside of you, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he fought to keep fucking you through the aftershocks. You whimpered in sensitivity, maintaining your vice grip around his shoulders to keep you close while he fucked his cum deeper into you.

The wet sounds, which had grown unbelievably louder and more explicit, were what sent him over the edge. His eyes locked on you again, and you watched his face twist, his mouth falling open as he emptied inside of you.

Rafe shuddered, bending over you to mouth a series of kisses along your jaw and the crook of your neck, pressing his nose affectionately against your face and inhaling deeply as he finished cumming.

“I fucking love you, you know that? I do. I’ll always love you. I swear on my life.”

Your eyes fluttered, mouth quirking up slightly. “You say that every time you cum, jerk.”

His head snapped up to look at you, eyebrows furrowed defensively, though once he saw the look on your face and realized you were kidding, he relaxed. “It’s true!” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead and cradling your head gently with his hands.

“Let me get you a towel.” He said as he pulled out, and you gave a tired giggle.

“Gentlemanly.” You muttered.

Rafe grinned. “Only the best for my girl, right?”

[midnite-c6]

OKAY SO I THOUGHT ABT IT AND IM GONNA SRS NEED A THANOS AND PLAYER 333 SMUT LIKE IN THE BATHROOMS AND SHIT?? HELLO??

-🍰

SO REAL THEYRE BOTH SO HOT.. WHY ARENT THERE MORE MYUNG-GI FICS? SMUT SPECIFICALLY? LIKE THE BREEDING KINK IS CRAAAZY

thanos (player 230) & myung-gi (player 333) x reader imagine!!! 💜 warnings: 18+, ((myung-gi is your baby daddy)), dubcon (read at ur own riskk<3)

it was clear you were myung-gi's bitch, everyone saw how he would immediately run over to you whenever a game's finished or how he'd always give you an extra portion of his lunch. he knows he'd already gotten you pregnant, it's only been a few couple weeks, but he still wanted to take a close eye in case you get hurt. unfortunately, to both of your demise, you've gotten into the games with apparently one of his biggest opps, and he just can't stop bothering the two of you!

as usual, myung-gi & thanos were already fighting inside the mens bathrooms, thanos just couldn't stop bothering about that crypto scheme your boyfriend had posted about.. being such a jerk.. "MG coin, you better watch out, i can see that bitch you keep runnin' around with." "fucking leave her out of this!" thanos tilted his head with a wide grin, guess the topic of you makes myung-gi more fired up. "don't worry 'bout that, dude. if she got with a person like you, no doubt i'd make her mine easily." he'd lean in to whisper into your boyfriend's ear. "i'll make your bitch, my bitch, and she will love it." he pushes thanos, "fuck off, shithead!" thanos just laughs, "...and word got around you knocked her up, jeez, pussy so good you forgot to pull out?" thanos gets hit with a punch in the face in response. so now your boyfriend always come back from the bathrooms with a bruised face, you feel soo bad for him :((, but there's really only one way you could think of to make him feel better.. prolly why you got preggy in the first place,.. and maybe there's an extra tag-along this time!!

nsfw below!! -> 🫶🏻

now in the late nights inside a tight-spaced stall in the mens bathrooms... your thighs were getting so tired, bouncing up and down on myung-gi's dick, both only your pants on the ground. his lips muffling your moans, he truly loves you, sososo much, though you both immediately stop when you hear the bathroom door being opened. "w-who would be awake at this time..??" you whispered, looking into his eyes with alot of fear despite your shameless act inside a place like this, he quickly covers your mouth with his hand. not gonna lie, when he saw that fearful look of yours, he almost nutted inside you (..again.)

you hear the footsteps getting closer to your stall, the two of you were shaking, (you'd both think it'd be a guard or something) but..nope! it was that fucking purple-haired, blue-eyed jerk. his eyes widened, before he'd smile widely showing his teeth. "hell yeah!" myung-gi wraps his arm tightly around you, as if to protect you. "you've got some fucking nerve, boy!" thanos stepped in closer, grabbing you by the hair, making you look up at him. "stop whoring around from this, scum. i'll treat you soo much better." and before myung-gi could jump at him for an attack, he felt you clench tighter around his dick, making him moan out loud. thanos just smiled from that, "woah, dude, i didn't mean you." "shutthefuckup!" he laughs. "c'mon, i'll stop bothering you if you offer her." you whimpered, like you were saying "please, myung-gi, no.." but your cunt was gushing all over him, he dick was suffocating! your pussies saying something definitely different.. "go." he'd order you. thanos' already pulling his dick out from his pants, "just jerk him off, you'd like that, won't you?" you whined, no way... you will never confess that you do like it! but myung-gi knows you the best! so now your hairs getting pulled, and your hands were hastily trying to make thanos cum, his low groans were sexy though, you admit. all while myung-gi sloppily fucks into you from underneath.

it felt insane, fucking your lover and also fucking your lovers number one enemy. 10/10 experience. all three of you would be breathing heavily, tired out.

thanos can't get enough though.. "c'mon, man, let me hit that! fuuck." myung-gi would absolutely not let allow another man inside your perfect cunt. thanos just can't stop begging..! "pleaseeeee." you'd only watch as you try to catch your breath from the absolutely wildest experience you've ever had. "pluusss, what if i fuck her hard enough, the baby's gonna end up lookin' like me?"

expect more posts 2 come dis weeek i have so many drafts. i love all requests mwmamawamwa <3333

[starmocha]

Hi hello so im back again with a smaaaaaaallllll rant about Colonel Caleb and general's daughter. I just got the ideea and i had, once again, nowhere to rant about it.

Ahham. So....them having their own 'myth' lets say. They were lovers in their past lives(historical maybe the 1800 or the 1900)but couldn't be toghter since she was of lower status then Caleb, him being a Colonel in the army (i love Colonel Caleb so bear with me) and her being a commoner or someting and she dies in his arms and he swears to protect her in their next lives and faith makes sure to have them be of the same 'rank'??? so he could fullfill his promise FUCK MY MIND IS IN RUINS 😭😭😭😭😭😭

I hope i made myself clear if not blame my mind, thank you! Good night! 😭😂❤️❤️

MINA I AM DELIGHTED TO SEE YOU AND YOUR LOVELY AU AGAIN. <333 gosh I wanted to answer this immediately last night, but Caleb’s latest trailer had me losing my mind and things spiraled 😭😭😭

Giving you all of my attention, because EXCUSE ME. WHEELS ARE SPINNING.

Can we…can we just indulge on this a little more? 🥹 omg excuse the slightly heavy Moulin Rouge! influences sprinkled in here, but this is the vibe I am getting, especially for their “tragic” ending.

A Colonel and His Lover

Imagine Colonel Caleb is dragged to a brothel by his associates and superiors. He finds the whole thing disdainful, but is pressured by his own superiors to indulge in a little nightly fun and let loose and forget their duties for a bit.

He doesn’t plan to. He had planned on leaving the moment everyone finds their partners.

Until he sees you.

Literally lust love at first sight.

He’s captivated by your beauty, your wits, and he’s falling hard and fast before he realizes what is happening.

One night with you leaves him yearning for more. He has already remembered how you felt under him, the way you quivered and moaned for him.

He remembers the sweet nothings uttered between the two of you, and though a tiny part in his mind is telling him that you are just a whore who is good with her tongue, he wants to believe that there is something genuine blossoming between the two of you.

He starts going back to the whorehouse more often. Nightly, if he could. He still puts on an act that he was being pressured to tag along, but in reality, all he wants is to see you again. No matter what it takes, what the price, he wants you and only you.

In the beginning, he was just another client. One of those military brutes who only saw you as something that can be bought for and used until they were satisfied.

You did intentionally charm him in the beginning. A false smile, a few sweet words to prickle his male ego, but it soon becomes apparent to you that Caleb is not like all of your previous clients. When he sees you, there is genuine feelings in his eyes, he is truly looking at you for you and not just a body to be used.

You try to discourage your own feelings, reminding yourself of the different classes you belong to. This can never happen—could never happen.

A prestigious colonel on his way to greatness and a common whore? What a joke. It seems almost insulting to entertain such an idea that you could ever truly be his. You quiet those feelings, try to imagine him as any of those other bastards who drag you to bed.

Except you can’t.

Caleb won’t let you. He sees you for you. He wants to know you, the real you, who you have hidden away for years.

You no longer wait for him to come to you as a client. You begin to sneak around whenever you both could, having regular rendezvouses where he is no longer a client or you’re a whore, but two lovers meeting to be together.

After one afternoon delight, you lay with him in an inn bed, tangled in sheets and wrapped in his warmth, and he paints you a beautiful picture of the life you both could have together.

He would buy you all of the beautiful dresses for you to wear, show you off with pride, his equal at his side wherever he goes. Men may still lust after you, their wives green with envy, but to Caleb, he couldn’t care, because he knows you are his and his alone.

You would live in a beautiful house, your days filled with idle contentment and no longer have to worry about anything or want for anything. Caleb promises to provide you with everything you could want and more.

When you tell him, though, that he is all that you want, his cheeks tinge pink, but his smile is layered with joy and also…gratitude? He looks at you like you are his whole world, because that’s just how it is: you are his world now. He had never thought he could cherish someone as much as he cherishes you.

A beautiful life awaits you. He asks you to marry him.

For just a moment, you hesitate, and he is confused. He gently questions you, wondering if you have any doubts about his feelings.

“No! Never!” you tell him, and then reluctantly, you reveal that you could still feel that distance in classes between the two of you. You worry about his reputation, and Caleb seems surprised.

He reassures you there is nothing for you to worry about. He can handle whatever happens, and he promises to keep you safe.

You agree to marry him.

Life continues as normal as the two of you plan to run away and elope. He had promised you an extravagant wedding, but you want him now, already wanting to be his wife and he your husband.

This rosy life you are seeing turns grey in an instant, everything grinding to a halt when you start to display symptoms of an unknown illness. You start coughing up blood more often, your body weakened some days to the point you need to be bedridden. Secretly, you hid everything from Caleb, not wanting him to worry.

Caleb starts wising up, realizing something is wrong when you continue to evade his questions or even outrightly avoid meeting him again.

When a physician reveals to you that you only have less than five months to live, you realize that the dream life Caleb promised you would never come true. Not wanting him to bear the pain of seeing you dying, you start to drive a further wedge between the two of you, consciously doing things to make him hate you so he wouldn’t ever have to feel the pain of losing you.

It works.

You fight with him to the point that you’re both yelling and screaming at one another until he loses control of his anger and drives his fist into a wall, scaring you briefly, having never seen this side of him before. He doesn’t want you to see him like this either, so he leaves, leaving you with these bitter harsh words and some bills tossed at you in spite:

“I have paid for my whore. My debt is paid and she is nothing to me.”

When he is out of sight, you fall to the ground sobbing, angry at yourself for doing a good job of driving him away and making him hate your existence. The man you loved is gone, and though it hurts, you still wish he would find someone to replace you, because you still love him with your whole heart and never want him to be alone like this.

Caleb is angry and it shows. The Colonel has always been very disciplined and strict, but everyone has noticed his temper seemed even more short. There is no leniency with him. You mess up, he will make sure you learn from your mistakes. You talk back to him, and it will be your last words in his presence.

He starts to drink more often, wishing to numb his pain, to forget your fights, to forget you. There is no alcohol in the world strong enough to cure him of this heartache. In spite of everything, he still loves you. He replays the memories often, wondering when everything had gone wrong.

One night as he sits at the bar, on his fifth glass of scotch, he pulls out a ring box, opening it to look at the dainty little ring he had secretly chosen for you. It wasn’t a huge diamond, but still perfectly sized, and he knows it would look beautiful on your finger.

He downs his glass, pays his tab, and stumbles out of the bar. He staggers through the streets disoriented, not even thinking clearly of where he is going.

He finds himself at the brothel again, and he scoffs. He goes in, demanding to see you.

The madame there tries to turn him away. She knows who he is, and also knows of his secret relationship with one her girls. She knows what you two had planned, because you had revealed everything to her and begged her to never let him come near you again—for his sake. Always for his sake. Even as you are dying upstairs, each day, you breathing growing weaker, you still think of him.

Caleb doesn’t take “no” for an answer and in his current drunken state, he is more prone to violence than usual, slurring insults about you in spite. It isn’t until one of the other girls screams out that you were dying, that he freezes, sobering up instantly.

“What…did you say?”

His whole world had stopped. The colors drain from his face, his heart slowing as he replays her words in his mind. The dots start to connect as he remembers all of your final fights, realizing your expressions had always seemed off somehow.

His throat is dry, his limbs rigid as he tries to move. Suddenly, he runs off in a mad dash before anyone could stop him. He rushes up the stairs, passing several rooms, pushing anyone in his way to the side until he finds your room, the door bursting open and he freezes again, not recognizing the frail woman laying in bed under multiple covers as a nurse is tending to her.

Caleb doesn’t leave and rushes to your side, dropping to his knees as he reaches for your hand, begging you to look at him. He apologizes profusely, his eyes glistening with tears.

“Why didn’t you tell me?! Why did you lie to me?! Why, why…why…”

His large hands wrapped around yours, holding it close to his face as he sobs.

“Ca..leb…”

He looks up, seeing you smiling at him weakly.

“I’m here,” he assures you, “I’m here…I’m not leaving…Not again…”

Too weak to fight, too relieved to see him, you let him stay and you close your eyes.

He stays by your side for your remaining days, cherishing the little time you had left.

One afternoon as he watches you sleep, he sits on the edge of the bed, his fingers brushing aside your hair, his eyes heavy with sadness as he realizes how frail and pale you are now compared to who you were months earlier. Quietly, he pulls out the ring box, taking the ring out, and slipping it on your ring finger. It looks perfect on you, just like he had known it would.

When you wake that evening and see the ring, you start to protest, saying it’s wasted on you.

He silences you with a kiss, and once again, he reassures you that nothing he does for you is ever wasted effort. You are his only bride, and no one will ever take your place.

Time dwindles, and he watches you waste away each day, his heart heavy with remorse and anger that he is losing you before his very eyes and there is nothing that he can do to stop this. For all of his strength and glory, Caleb has never felt as weak and helpless as he does now.

He tries to fill your days with as much comfort and happiness as he could.

It was a spring afternoon when he lays in bed with you. He leans back against the headboard, your body resting against his, the cover up to your neck for warmth, but nothing felt more comforting than his own body heat against you.

He tells you stories again and as you listen to him, you wonder why his voice sounds more distant even though he is right here next to you.

Caleb watches, realizing, he has lost you, your body growing colder and unresponsive.

He breaks down crying as a warm spring breeze rustles into the room from the opened balcony door. He holds you close to him and just sobs and curses every deity in the world.

He promises in the next life, he will be a better man and give you what you deserve. In the next life, things will go right. The story of you and him will be rewritten, he swears on his life.

[domm1etae]

riding mingi after the show

the second mingi walked into your shared hotel room, his hair damp from the post-show shower and a towel slung around his neck, you knew exactly where the night was heading. he didn’t even try to hide the way his eyes dragged over you—sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for him like you had nowhere else to be.

"you didn’t come to the afterparty," he said, his voice low and rough, still carrying that adrenaline-fueled edge from the stage. he dropped the towel onto the back of a chair, leaning against the doorframe with that cocky smirk that made your stomach flip.

"didn’t feel like sharing," you shot back, biting your lip as you met his stare. "thought maybe i’d get the private encore."

his smirk deepened, sharp and full of heat, as he crossed the room in a few quick strides. "oh, you’ll get it," he muttered, his hands gripping your thighs and pulling you to the edge of the bed until you were flush against him. "you just better keep up, baby."

before you could answer, his lips crashed into yours, hot and demanding, his hands roaming over your hips and under your thighs. you gasped when he bit down on your bottom lip, his tongue slipping into your mouth as he pressed you back against the bed.

"fuck, you’ve been on my mind all night," he rasped, pulling back just enough to look at you, his pupils blown with lust as his fingers hooked into your panties, sliding them down your legs. "kept thinking about this—how you’d look riding me, moaning my name."

"then stop thinking and let me," you whispered, your breath hitching as you reached for the waistband of his sweatpants, tugging them down just enough to free him.

he groaned, his hands gripping your thighs as you straddled him, the heat between your bodies making you both shiver. "you’re so fucking impatient," he muttered, but there was no bite to it—just pure need as he lined himself up, his tip brushing against you.

"can’t help it," you replied, sinking down onto him slowly, your nails digging into his shoulders as you adjusted to the stretch. "been waiting for this all night."

his head tipped back, a low groan rumbling from his chest as you started to move, your hips rolling against him. his hands gripped your waist, guiding your movements as his teeth caught his bottom lip, his eyes glued to the way you took him.

"shit," he hissed, his head falling forward to rest against your shoulder. "you feel so good—fuck, just like that, baby."

the way he filled you had your mind spinning, your moans growing louder with each bounce of your hips. his lips found your neck, teeth grazing over your skin before sucking a mark just above your collarbone, and the sensation only spurred you on.

"mingi," you whimpered, your voice shaking as his hands slid down to your ass, squeezing hard as he thrust up to meet you. "you’re so—fuck—"

"perfect," he groaned, his pace quickening, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. "you’re fucking perfect—taking me so well. you don’t even know what you do to me."

you could feel yourself unraveling, the heat building in your core as his hands tightened their grip, his lips trailing down your chest. "come on, baby," he rasped, his voice strained. "let go for me. i wanna feel you."

his words sent you over the edge, your body trembling as you cried out his name, and the way you clenched around him had him following seconds later, a guttural moan tearing from his throat as he buried himself deep, his grip on you unrelenting.

the room fell silent except for the sound of your heavy breathing, your bodies tangled together as you both tried to catch your breath. mingi pressed a lazy kiss to your temple, his fingers tracing slow circles on your waist.

"guess you really did want that private encore," he muttered, a breathless laugh escaping his lips.

you grinned, brushing your fingers through his damp hair. "and you didn’t disappoint."

[written-and-readen]

The Odd Are Slim But Never Zero Part 3

Moze, Phainon, Sampo x fem!reader

Part 1 (Dan Heng, Luka, Blade), Part 2 (Jing Yuan, Sunday, Gallagher)

Summary: Someone walks in on you

Warnings: nsfw (18+), penetrative sex (Moze), cumming inside, semi-public (Moze, Phainon, Sampo), marking (Sampo), getting caught

a/n: With Amphoreus comes more men to write for. I would've posted this much later if it hadn't come out. Lord help me when Anaxa shows up.

Moze

You thought Moze was supposed to be stealthy. Him coming out of invisibility scares you on the daily. Him fucking you in a random Yaoqing alley in broad daylight is a hard contradiction to that.

Your back is pinned against a wall as his cock pistons in and out of your folds. Your pants and underwear have been long discarded on a nearby crate. His gloved hand is wrapped around your thigh to part your legs, giving it a squeeze occasionally. Not only is he more bold by making a move on you out here, but he’s tougher than usual. Your pussy clenches, trying to get a grip just like you are. You don’t want to admit that some of the best sex you’ve had happened in an alley, but that may be the case because you also really don’t want him to stop.

“Are you okay?” You say as you fight back a flood of moans unsuccessfully. Something must be up to bring about this.

“Failed again,” He growls in your ear. He must be talking about another one of his attempts to assassinate Feixiao. The Shadow Guard keeps trying despite not being successful yet, but it’s only natural he’d be frustrated over it once in a while. Maybe he just wants to feel like he’s doing a good job.

“Moze!” You whine when he hits a particularly sweet spot in your pussy, a reminder of how good of a job he’s currently doing. It’s embarrassing how quiet he is while you can barely keep your noises from spilling into his ears. You try to muffle them in his shoulder as your legs quiver beneath you.

“Where do you think he went?” A familiar woman’s voice comes from nearby. A mere glance in its direction leads your eyes to connect with Feixiao’s piercing blue ones. It’s only a moment before you’re averting your gaze, face now burning. Did she recognize you in those few seconds? Oh, who are you kidding? If she didn’t, she’d at least recognize her own assassin.

You’re quickly reminded of the position you’re in with another swift thrust of Moze’s hips. You wonder if he noticed the general, but he seems pretty unphased. With his keen senses, it’s more believable that he’s just acting like he didn’t notice. You’ll think it over later sometime when you’re not being railed against a wall. For now, you just let the impending orgasm ripple through your body as Moze fills you up with the product of his own.

“You okay?” Moze helps steady you after the fact, hands on your waist.

“Yeah. You should probably get back to Feixiao,” You reply, still wondering about that brief moment of eye contact.

“It’s fine,” Moze replies. Once you’re dressed again, he picks you up bridal style so you don’t have to stand on unsteady legs. “She’ll understand me taking care of you after that. I think she could tell how much it was for you.”

Shit. You hide your flushed face in Moze’s chest. It’s going to be a while before you want to face the general again.

Phainon

You wish you could say the goosebumps on your skin were due to the cool water of the bath, but it’s definitely a result of a certain Chrysos Heir’s gaze. You can practically feel how Phainon’s blue irises trail across your body as you sit in his lap. The water only just comes up to your hips, leaving plenty of you for him to admire.

You’ve only seen each other naked a few times before and just briefly, so you can’t say you don’t feel the same. His muscular frame draws your eyes as well, slowly but surely leading them downward until you hit the water’s surface.

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here?” You hope switching the subject will take your mind off the tension. “I thought this bath was only for the Chrysos Heirs.”

“Well, you’re the guest of a Chrysos Heir. I’m sure that’s enough.” It seems like a weak argument to you, but his hands slowly running up your sides has you gasping instead of protesting. Previously resting on your thighs under the surface of the bath, his hands are still cool as they roam your skin, leaving water droplets in their wake.

“Phainon…” He’s just moments away from reaching your breasts but stops upon hearing you murmur his name.

"Is something wrong? Do you want me to stop?" His eyes meet yours as his motions cease. You pause and find yourself shaking your head.

"It's just...new." You avert your gaze, but a hand on your jaw brings you right back to Phainon.

"I'll take it slow, okay?" The way his eyes soften reveals the truth behind his words.

"Okay." You nod before he brings you into a kiss.

The warmth of his lips moving against yours has you melting into him. The water ripples as you lean closer. Your arms go to rest on his shoulders, hands brushing through the snow white hair on the back of his neck. Simultaneously, you feel his touch dance around your collarbone, twirling patterns making their way lower and lower. Finally, he lands on the curve of your breast. At the same time you gasp and break the kiss, he smiles, eyes flickering to watch your reaction. The light pinch he gives your nipple shoots pleasure straight to your core.

As you process the new sensations, Phainon presses kiss along the same path his hand traveled. Down your neck, over your collarbone, ending right between your breasts. Your brain hardly registers it all with the way his hands also move lower. Sliding down your waist, running across your hips, crossing your thighs, and moving inward until—

"Phainon." Both of you look to see the Goldweaver herself. Instinctively, your arms cross over your chest before remembering that Aglaea sees through her web of golden threads. Oh.... embarassment burns through your body at the realization she probably saw everything that just occurred in the bath before even stepping foot here.

"You better not be sullying the water." Aglaea warns in that usual silky tone.

"Well then, I guess we better go somewhere more private." Phainon stands up, taking you with him as his hands hook under your butt to support you. Looking over his shoulder as he carries you away, you swear the faintest sly smile forms on Aglaea’s lips.

Sampo

"We should not be doing this here," You say through gritted teeth as your back hits the cold stone of a wall in Backwater Pass. Despite the way you hate how Sampo's always trying to get in your pants, there's also something you equally love about it. His emerald eyes go wide as he pleads with you to let him eat you out in the alley or whatever other scheme he's had on his mind. He's lucky desperation is a good look on him.

"Stop me at any time," He purrs against the skin of your neck with the confidence of knowing you won't. It seems you've folded one too many times. You're getting predictable. At the feeling of his teeth grazing across your skin before choosing a place to strike, you can't find it in yourself to care though. Your head lolls to the side, letting him do as he pleases.

As Sampo marks up your skin, his hands deftly undo the buttons of your shirt. He lifts your bra up to see how Belobog's chilly air has your nipples perking up. There's no hesitation in the way he takes a breast in each hand, squeezing the flesh as his mouth gets back to work.

“Sampo…” You moan right in his ear.

“Feels good, pretty girl?” Another moan falling from your lips is all he needs as response before taking it further. His thigh slots itself between your legs, and you eagerly grind down against it. From the stimulation on your neck, chest, and clit, it’s somehow too much yet not enough. The desire to have his cock filling you up slowly clouds your brain, but all a sudden it all stops.

“Sampo?” You whine, trying to regain your bearings to see why he stopped. Your brain starts to register voices, and when you look in their direction, you’re met with the Captain of the Silvermane Guards rounding the corner.

You can’t imagine what you look like right now. Clothes messily pushed out of the way so your chest is on full display and hickeys running down your neck. There’s little time to react before Sampo’s grabbing your hand and sprinting in the opposite direction with you in tow. You try your best to get your clothes somewhat back in order with your free hand as you run.

“We’re never doing this again!” You shout, hearing footsteps on your trail.

“That’s what you said last time, sweetheart.” Sampo gives you a knowing smirk. You hate that he’s right. And you hate that Gepard’s wide-eyed reaction to stumbling upon you maybe turned you on a little bit.

[cherrysolo]

lu x humanities/social science reader where you teach him concepts in your major and yap about social, cultural implications of stuff, etc. he listens to you so intently because he is interested in it but mainly because it's you talking about something you're passionate about. this man is part sapiosexual imo, meaning he's attracted to intelligence. he loves hearing you ramble on about whatever the hell it is. But also, he teaches you some coding stuff or you guys make some cool shit together. idk anything about that stuff but i'd imagine he would show you how to do some stuff. he'd encourage you and be such a good teacher!

bed chem

warnings: smut lol

soooo I kinda took this request and ran with it hehehehehehhe hope u enjoy <3

you were sitting in your dorm with your boyfriend luigi, studying for a psychology midterm. while he was working on some coding, you were stuck trying to remember different behaviour theory terms. memorizing definitions and theories gave you a migraine, and you loved pursuing your neuroscience degree but it could be difficult for most of the time. you let out a huge sigh,

“what’s wrong angel?” luigi stops typing on his laptop and turns to you.

“hmmm just feeling kinda dumb, I can’t seem to focus on studying,” he sighs and moves closer to you,

“don’t talk down on yourself baby, sometimes you just need a break or look at things from a different perspective,” he encourages you and presses his hand on your shoulder, rubbing slightly. “maybe you need a partner, or a visual, or both?” he hums moving closer to you.

“I don’t know, I can’t take you away from your work,” the frustration in your voice makes his heartache. he wants to make you feel better, and make you forget about the stress that consumes your mind.

“don’t worry about me baby, let’s focus on you,” he moves up to sit behind you, basically sitting on his lap now. his hands grip your hips to pull you closer into him. You part your knees on either side of him and situate comfortably on him, your ass is swell to his core.

“so you’re studying behavioural styles?” quirking his head to look at your laptop, you nod.

“well, let’s start with what behavioural styles are?” his hand slowly starts moving from your waist up to under your breast. your breath hitches, “uh, well, behavioural styles are used to describe how people tend to interact with others, umm make decisions, and uh approach tasks.” you answer with a stuttering breath. his hand finally squeezes your breast slightly, starting to pepper kisses on your neck. “smart girl, let’s do some more, sound good?” you hum quietly, “can you use your words, baby?”

you nod quickly, “yeah that’s good” his hand lowers from your chest and moves to your hip again,

“what are the four behavioural styles?” you clear your voice, his touch is sending goosebumps across your body.

“uh well, the first one is, uh dominance because people are -oh um” you sigh as he rests his hand on the top of your shorts, tapping his fingers above your pubic bone.

“what was that baby?” you can hear his smug smile behind you, he was such a tease.

“uh it’s because people are influenced by power and uh control,” you blurt out quickly as he presses a kiss to your neck.

“good job, continue,” he lowers his fingers into your shorts but not yet touching where you need him most.

“the next one influence, uh because- oh god,” you moan out as he places his fingers on your clit.

“why’d you stop baby, keep going” he whispers as he slowly rubs you. your breathing becomes rigid, you can’t believe he’s doing this to you.

“because people need relationships to thrive, and uh you know, recognition and love,” your brows furrow trying to concentrate.

“good job baby, you’re so smart,” he clears his throat and continues to decent up to remove your top, motioning you to lift your arms. once your top is gone, he goes back to your core. his lips reattach to your neck, sucking purple marks into it.

“right, there’s also the steadiness style, oh fuck,” you curse because of his fingers begin to remove your shorts, you lift your hips up to let the cool air hit your clenched core.

“continue, what is it for?” he questions, pressing his fingers back to your clit, smearing around the wetness.

“it’s um, because people are driven by stability, they want community,” you whine out. “ that’s right, my smart girl, you deserve this now,” he says as he plunges a finger into your soaked core and curls it upwards.

“oh god lu, please” you praise wanting more.

“next one baby, then I’ll add a finger,” you breathe in and out through your nose, finding the strength to answer the final question.

“oh- uh- the final one is conscientious type.” you breathe out.

“good girl, continue,” he begins to quicken his movements.

“they uh are driven by accuracy, quality, and knowledge.” you quickly get out, and he pauses his movements to motion you to continue.

“they tend to be analytical, detail-oriented, and uh they enjoy solving problems and making logical decisions. uh like you lu,” you mumble out as he adds a second finger. the noise of wetness filling the air,

“such a good and smart girl you are, fuck,” he praises you while moaning out.

“hmmm see you just needed some help,” he continues to praise you as you clench around his fingers. your brain is completely empty at this moment in time, only concentrating on reaching your peak. his thumb hits your clit and a familiar feeling fills your stomach.

“lu, please, I’m so close,” your incoherent babbling is enough of a signal for him to quicken his pace.

“you’re my good girl, c'mon just let go, you deserve it,” as those words are let out, your orgasm takes over. your chest is heaving and you feel dizzy. you lean over to look up, and place a quick kiss to his mouth, “I love you lu, you really know how to help a girl study,”

“I love you too baby, next time you can help me,” you both end up laughing in each other's arms.

[carasspice]

I'd been invited over to an old college friend's new house along with two other semi close friends if you can have such a thing. I guess I'd been there for maybe forty minutes with Jason happily chatting along about work, homes and so on when I asked where his fiancée was as I'd expected the two of them to be present along with the other two who hadn't turned up yet.

His face was almost ashen as he took a ring from his pocket, held it in the palm of his hand and dissolved into tears.

"She's gone Wendy, two days ago we had a chat followed by one hell of an argument and she said she couldn't live with me any longer. We only bought this place a few months ago, I spent a fortune decorating it as she wanted and she walked out. What do I do? I can't afford to pay for this on my own and she wants her half back as soon as it's sold."

"I knew something was wrong when you opened the door but never imagined, oh fuck it, I'm so sorry Jason, I thought you two were so happy together."

"So did I, how wrong can you be but I don't know what to do."

I had my arms around him with his head on my shoulder for a while before I noticed his hand stroking up and down my side. Maybe I was stupid or out of order but I took that hand and placed him on my breast. As soon as I'd done it I realised that I was probably as surprised as he was and even more so when he kissed me and his hand settled on my thigh.

"Suspenders Wendy?" he queried just as I wiped his tears away with my thumb.

"Always Jason, tights are functional for work or whatever, any other time I go for stockings."

"That's good, I like stockings." he replied rather nervously but his fingers appeared to like following the outline of the suspender clasps on my leg. I looked at his face and streaks of those tears and my brain jumped into one of those moments when you can't tell if you're being stupid or whatever.

"Listen Jason, why are we wasting time? Don't be angry with me but would you like to take me to bed? I suspect you might and I'd like the same, what do you think? You need a life after ... what was her name? Anyhow, I can fuck as well as she could most likely."

"Her name? I forget but we shouldn't, should we, could we?"

"Why not? She's gone and won't be back. You're single and so am I, I'm happy to share your bed and if you are then ... tell you what, give me ten minutes, take the champagne to your bedroom and I'll join you. Allow me to show you what this gal has to offer and I promise not to walk out in the next hour or two."

My dress was hanging behind the bathroom door as I gave my teeth a swift clean with my fingertip. I checked the mirror and tried to make my hair look a little more attractive or even sexy, took a little make-up from my bag and immediately put it back. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes for a moment and told myself there was no going back but maybe I wasn't looking for a way to go back. I should have checked before stepping into the bathroom but I only discovered the correct bedroom after looking into two others.

"Wow, now that is some bed. Am I okay Jason? I don't want to disappoint you and more importantly are you okay with me being here. I left my dress ... I'm talking too much, right?"

He smiled, shook his head and then nodded whatever those movements meant, pulled down the bed clothes and held out his hand.

"You look sensational Wendy, turn around and ... how many straps do you have there?"

"No idea Jason, you'll have to check them out and why are you wearing boxers? I never wear anything in bed for very long and always sleep in the buff. Did you remember her name yet?"

"The boxers can go and the name will be on the calendar somewhere."

"Hey, I'll deal with the boxers, you do whatever you like with the lingerie. I'm not a shy girl Jason. Let's look at this as your first step in your new life without whatever her name was ... was and not is as she's gone."

"You do talk too much Wendy, I need to check out those straps and you can ... mmmmmm ."

I never allowed him to say another word as I tugged those boxers away, his left hand was inside the back of my thong while his right pulled my bra up and over my boobs.

"Unfasten the thing Jason, get rid of it all, I love naked and I'm staying the night, okay?"

"I think so, yes Wendy, absolutely." he replied as my bra strap was unfastened first with the one at my waist and one just above my hips being twanged and unfastened."

"Don't forget the straps to my stockings Jason."

"I'm leaving those but this thong has to go and then I'll refasten the belt."

"Oh okay, funny how guys love stockings and suspenders, did you remember her name yet?" I teased. "So how do you plan to get the thong out of your way?"

"Bugger, I hadn't worked that bit out, I need to unfasten one stocking don't I?"

"Forget it, just get me naked and fuck me. Oh hell, you have no idea how much I wanted you to fuck me back at uni, but you were with the nameless one."

Within seconds my belt and thong were stripped down my legs taking my stockings with with them and just as all was stuck around my ankles his face plunged to my muff with his nose and mouth swiping and twisting from side to side, every which way there was. I was in hysterics by the time his rather lovely cock slid inside me while my feet tried to get free from at least one leg's encumbrances.

"Fuck me harder you college boy."

"Yes Miss Wendy."

So our friendship was well and truly cemented about seven times that evening and during the night plus another two after a breakfast break.

Jason was in the bathroom when I answered a call for him only to discover it was the ex. "Oh good morning Alice, I hear you two split up and ... What was that? Okay so yes I am in his bed and yes I stayed the night as his fiancée fucked off and left him in tears, yes I fucked him for hours and yes I will fuck him again once he's finished in the bathroom. I don't give a shit if my language offends you, I fucked him Alice and not the other way round. I've wanted to fuck with him since our second week at uni so you can blame me as much as you like but not Jason. Actually, you can blame yourself, did you want something?"

"How much, no chance you bitch?" I exclaimed as she demanded a fortune yet couldn't be bothered to speak to Jason. "You must be in fucking cloud cuckoo land, I know how much this would sell for and I can imagine how much the mortgage is, you'll get twenty quid after legal fees and not much more."

We had a few more words before I slammed the phone down.

"Hey Jason, Alice is on her way round to empty the wardrobe unless you want me to dump her things on the drive. I'm going nowhere and if the evil bitch wants a fight I'll give her one."

"No, it's not your fight Wendy."

"Oh I think it is now, I just told her she'll get twenty quid from the sale if she's lucky and that I fucked you about fifty times, shall we make it fifty-one before she gets here?"

xxxx

[bunnigumi]

can you do drabbles of best friend (fwb) gumi (*´-`) (i love ur work and aesthetic btw (´ｰ｀) )

cw. megumi x reader , friends with benefits , first time , possessiveness

an. i think i got carried away... i sooooo love this trope hehe. and thank you, nonnie! ^w^ (not carefully proofread)

Hey, 'Gumi, remember how I said you owe me one?

Fwb!Megumi isn't startled when you casually ask him if he can take your virginity.

Honestly, you were partially joking, but when he agrees with that static expression like you didn't just ask your best friend to be your first time, you're taken by surprise. You really didn't think he'd entertain your idea. Anticipating a huff, him brushing it off as a joke

You were expecting a more touch-and-go experience: He fucks you, you can claim you're no longer a virgin, and that's that. But he really takes the time to get you all worked up and desperate, telling you that your first should be your most memorable. It's just the rules.

And it was supposed to be a one time thing, you swear! But after that, nothing could get you off as good as he did.

Fwb!Megumi can't help the teasing smile on his expression when you tell him that you want to have sex again, Didn't realize we were friends with benefits now.

You can't even begin to explain how degrading it feels to go back on your own word, but you've been so pent up and had no one other than him to help... He seriously ruinied your ability to orgasm.

He teaches you the reins the second time around. How to touch him, The tip is the most sensitive. And tighten your grip, it's better. How to ride him, Fuck... yeah, that's it, letting go of your waist he leans back into the pillows, keep moving your hips like that.

It's way better than highschool sex-ed, that's for sure.

Fwb!Megumi is weirdly intimate—not that it's a bad thing. He's always had a romantic streak, even if he denies the fact.

It's in how he kisses you, not with hunger or pure lust. In the way he holds your hands and leaves marks on your neck that are hard to hide. Even if you whine about it, he'll still do it.

He has your other friends wondering who'd be giving them to you since you weren't in a relationship with anyone.

When you need a little cheering up, Fwb!Megumi starts offering a little more than just emotional support.

You're on your elbows and knees, back arched, face buried into his pillow. Avoiding his face so that he wouldn't have to see the makeup running down your own. Even though hes seen you in way worse states, somehow it's more embarrassing when he's inside you.

Your date had stood you up. Megumi knew how excited you were for it. Barging into his place, carrying tons of outfits in your arms. Showing them off. Asking him for his input, what you should wear. Which dress flaunts your body off best.

He told you that you'd look great in anything, but you urged that you should look perfect, and as your best friend, it's his obligation.

Fwb!Megumi likes to be a bit rough with you when you're sad like this. Feel-better-sex, as he jokes.

Tight enough with his grab on your hips to leave bruises, He finds that you forget about the pain better when you have a greater sensation to focus on. Dopamine's your favorite drug.

And he wont admit this either, but he's real possessive over you. As your best friend, he knows that you deserve more than the world.

Frankly, he likes the idea of keeping you all to himself; its practically why he agreed to your request in the first place.

He won't make you flip over so he can see your face while he fucks you missionary, but he really wants to see the pleasure wash over your face. To see how he can only make you feel good like this.

Pounding you from the back so hard that you forget the name of the douche who stood you up is good on it's own. Theres enough proof of his worth to you in how your cries are that of satisfaction, and not the kind caused by stupid boys who don't deserve to even look at you.

No one else should get to experience how your cunt tightens around him as your about to cum. Hear the way you moan out him name wantonly. See how you push back onto him when he tries to pull out, insisting that he stay inside you for just a little longer.

There's one more thing Fwb!Megumi won't tell you either; he really, really loves this arrangement.

[justhereforsubsevika]

can you write spanking with sevika please 🙏 preferably sub!sev 🫶🫶

This not gonna be written properly sozsoz but like a sub!sevi braindump i think yes

Contains: Spanking, brat!Sevika, use of flail, pussy spanking, ass spanking, use of the traffic-light system for consent (because checking in is importantttt), clit torture, denied orgasm :P

See because a lot of subs get thought about as fems a lot of public teasing is like

wearing a short skirt and bending over so your ass shows

wearing a low cut top and purposefully pushing your cleavage together

sevika is a butch. she does a butch version of public teasing

she'll look you in the eye while she pins a girl to wall between her elbows, flexing her biceps

she'll ask girls to spot her in the gym while she does squats just so you can watch as her spotter's eyes get trained on her ass

she'll even lift girls up just to see you seething when they giggle and grab onto sevis shoulders

(switching to proper writing)

so , what do you do about sevika teasing you all day?

She gasps at the way you force her down, acting all confused like she wasn't getting you worked up on purpose. "Baby-" she'll splutter as you pull her joggers from under her ass, grunting when you see the cotton of her boxers is damp. You see red, hand flying down onto her pussy before she can even begin to splutter out some bullshit excuse. She yelps and chucks her head back, her back arching as she grabs on to the armrest of the sofa you've laid her on.

"You think you can act like a slut and get away with it?" You seethe, harshly thumbing at her clit. She's soaked, you know she gets off on disobedience, you know how much of a fucking brat she is. She tucks her chin into her chest and looks up at you through her eyebrows, that dumbass smirk curling at her lip. "Mhmm, because I know it'll end up like this. With you p-punishing my pussy like I wanted."

You cease your movements entirely. What the fuck had gotten into her? She was no good girl by any means, but she was never this much of a brat. She clucks her tongue when you stare at her, heart racing, blood turning to flame. "Come on," and she grabs your wrist, grabs your fucking wrist, and starts making circles on her clit with your thumb. You're frozen. If you saw red before, you could only see the blood behind your eyes now.

You pinch hard on her clit, smiling sadistically when her teeth clench, seeing how her hand retreats to grab onto any part of the sofa. "You want to play it like this?" You slap her across the face and grab her up from under her chin, forcing her to look at you. "Fine, we'll do things your way. Flip over, ass up."

That smirk is wiped right off her face. She nods, her pupils wide and obedient, getting into position. You've never had to go this far with a punishment before, never had to concentrate pain onto her ass instead of stinging pleasure onto her pussy. But her behaviour warrants it.

"Do you need me to co-?"

"No I don't need you to count. I need you to shut up and take it."

You bring your hand down harshly onto her ass, the pain doubled since she'd hit her glutes hard at the gym to flaunt to whichever slut she picked out to taunt you with. That image pulses in your brain, both of your hands simultaneously coming down to spank either cheek of her ass. You grab at her flesh, pinching, squishing, whatever you please, before bringing down another harsh slap. One of her legs is bent up, her toes curling in the air. She grips at the pillows of the couch, crying out little "tch's" and "gah's" from between her teeth. You don't finish until her scarred ass is burning a deep shade of crimson.

But you don't stop there! No no, how could you when she disobeyed you so intensely, so purposefully, actually mocked your punishment?

Her head is fallen against the plush of the pillow, and, when you grab at her hair to pick up her face, you see where tears have wet the gray fabric. She looks up at you, sniffling, lip trembling, and you pout at her. "Poor baby," you deride, making her gasp out a sob. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry I was bad," she chokes, grabbing at the grip you have on her hair. Concern hits you at her signs of distress.

"Sevi baby, colour?"

"Oh, green," she chuckles, "just hurts really fucking bad." You smile and rub your hand soothingly over her bruising skin. "Wait here."

****

You return with a toy you haven't yet used on Sevika. She's waiting, laid out on the sofa, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "What's that?" she asks, a hint of nervousness in her voice. "It's a flail. Give me your palm."

You place a few good hits onto Sevi's hand, watching as her eyes re-light with excitement. "Hurts..." she murmurs, seeing how her hand gets streaks of red drawn across it. "Mhm. It'll be worse on your ass." You sit beside her and drag the tails of the flail across her raw flesh, giggling when her muscles tense, when her breath hitches. "Poor baby. Shouldn't have acted like such a little bitch, should you?" You bring the flail down, making Sevika shriek in pain. Her crying picks up again, her whole body shaking. "No, no I should've been good," she stammers, her limbs limp against the fabric of the couch. "Mm," you hum, bringing the toy down, revelling in the way little lines cut across her ruined skin. You don't do this for long, just enough to get her really weak.

"Aw Sevi," you coo, bringing your fingertips to her face. Her cheeks are burning hot. She nestles against you, kissing your knuckles. "'m sorry.." she whimpers, "'m so so sorry."

"It's okay, sweet girl." You slide your thumb down between her legs and bite your lip at how wet she's gotten. "Love it when I hurt you, don't you baby?"

Her hand comes behind her back, folding it across herself, willing you to pin her down. She wants to feel like she can't escape the pleasure you give her even if she tried. "Love it so much," she chokes, moaning when you grab her forearm and pin her down. You thumb at her clit for a while. You know she'll be easy, she's soaked from her punishment, and she's pulsing hard against your thumb. "Need...please?" Is all she manages. You go a little longer, until she's really moaning, really whining, breathing hot and heavy.

And then you pull away.

She damn near screams at the loss of contact, and you can't help but laugh at the hyperbolic response. "Just edging me right?" She asks, a hint of panic in her voice. Poor Sevi, she's so far gone. "Nuh uh princess. Bad girls don't get to cum."

She flips over, immediately regretting her decision when her ass brushes your knees. "Ow, fuck- baby please, please I took everything so well," and she's weeping again, begging you with the biggest puppy dog eyes she can muster. "Yeah you did. Too bad you misbehaved all day, huh?" She shakes her head, kneeling over your lap and grabbing at your shirt. "Please?" You smirk and look away.

"No, Sevi, that's final."

She nods solemnly, like you just told her she has 3 minutes to live, sinking down onto your lap. You feel how messy she's making you, her wetness painting your thighs. But she's good, she doesn't even make a half-assed attempt to grind into you. Just sits.

And then, of course, you slather her ass in aloe vera, make her lay down on her stomach while you clean her pussy off. You take off her tank top, now drenched in sweat and tears, and remove her joggers and boxers. You leave her in her socks (her feet get cold </3) and massage her back, telling her softly what a good girl she is for taking her punishment so well.

Maybe you let her cum eventually, because you feel bad. Maybe.

ok maybe i did want to write this properly then lmfao

also PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE IF THE DIALOGUE IS CRINGY PLEASE+ not properly spell/grammar/ "does this definitely make sense" checked

[cursingtoji]

the cardio machine i want is on the cardio machine

cw: gym rat toji x loser!gf - size kink, sweat kink (?), toji is a big old meanie. loser!gf series: geto gojo nanami.

loser!reader who, like a million other sedentary people on new year’s eve, said “new year new me” and proceeded to enroll at the local gym.

gym rat!toji who knew how things are in the beginning of the year, so the first week he arrives one hour earlier than usual to avoid all the lazy fucks that won’t last two months.

of course he makes a few mental bets on the ones that would quit and how long it would take, you included.

it’s easy to spot the “i don’t want lift weights cause i don’t want look jacked” type of girl.

at the breaks between one set and the other he looked around, not surprised to see you slowing down the treadmill after running not even two whole minutes.

sometimes he caught you staring at him through the mirror, not an uncommon occurrence amonst the women there, though you surprised him one day by tapping his shoulder after he finishing his weighted squats.

“can you… give me a few tips?” he looked so intimidated, from up close his shoulders looked like a wall, he stared at you from above, dark green eyes seemed to be heavily judging you, “never mind this was a bad idea, sorry” you turned around, grabbing you bottle and running off the gym.

by the time you managed to gather the courage to show your face back there two whole weeks had passed.

“consistency is the key you know” you were distracted looking down your phone while slowly walking the treadmill when the handsome man appeared beside you, the sudden presence destabilized you.

before you could become the viral video of the week when inevitably a gym employee decides to post the security footage of your ass rolling off the active treadmill, toji wrapped one big arm around your waist and pulled you to the stable floor.

“you caught me off guard the other day” he said completely unfazed by saving you from a life of embarrassment, “then you disappeared.”

“yeah i didn’t know if i wanted to come back anyways, i haven’t see any results so far” you pulled the hem of your shirt down.

toji snorted, “‘course you ain’t seeing results, sweetheart, you don’t lift.”

“well, it’s hard…” toji rolled his eyes, there was always an excuse.

though he also did a new year’s resolution of being more patient, for his kids primarily but teaching a cute thing like you could be a good exercise too.

soon enough, toji was correcting your form, texting you asking why you haven’t showed up to the gym and ringing your bell incessantly when you complained about muscle pain and said you wouldn't go that day.

“it’ll feel better once you start to move” he explained, resting on your door frame when you opened the door on your pajamas.

“let me alone, just today” you whined.

“you asked for my help now go put on something without cartoons on it” he waited for you to turn around and slapped your butt. it had been only one week he was coaching you but there was already a weird intimacy due to the fact he was pretty much always looking at your body and touching you.

to correct your form. obviously.

"what do i have to do today, coach fushiguro?" you asked from your bedroom through an ajar door which allowed toji to get a peek at your pink underwear and cute ass.

"cardio, bicycle first. get some blood flowing on those sore muscles" he tilted his head and raised his eyebrows watching you bend over to grab a biker shorts at the lowest drawer then holding back a laughter at the grunt of pain coming from you.

"once it gets better i can teach you other types of cardio" he walked around your kitchen examining your cabinets and stuff you kept in your fridge. needless to say it was all junk.

"can't wait" you replied sarcastically, failing to understand the meaning.

it took a few more days till you got used to toji's training, then he decided to focus on your upper body.

"such a simple movement, how do you manage to get that wrong?" he raised from the bench he was sitting behind you watching your form through the mirror. you almost dropped the weights at your feet when he came close. it was almost scary how much bigger than you he was especially seeing it throght the mirror. his right hand wrapped around yours on the dumbell and his bicep touched your arm as he pushed your arm closer to your body, "tuck your elbows in, straight your back" his free hand pushed your shoulders till they were touching his chest.

how come he smelled so good, so... musky and...

"are you even making any force?" he lowered his head, his reflection looking annoyed. so you decided to ignore the sudden heat between your thighs and flex your arm the way he taught you.

and just like he promised, when you were consistent enough and handling a good 5 minute run he decided to show you a more pleasing cardio.

"toji please~" you whined, thighs burning from riding him, you were using his rock hard abdomen as a support, but still.

"one more minute, come on" he looked at the watch on his wrist and slapped your ass, "haven't i prep-ed you good enough?" his thumb rubbed your bottom lip then pushed in meeting your tongue, where you tasted yourself in his digits one hour after he ringed your bell and said he was going to reward your good discipline, but he had to strech you first.

"good girl" you felt his abdomn flex when he raised from his laying position on your bed, "now leave it to daddy" he pecked your lips and quickly changed positions, putting a pillow under your ass and rolling his neck to start his cardio of the day.

[jjsloverre]

after school -j.m

pairing: nerd!jj x popular!reader

in which… nerd!jj finally gets the courage to ask out popular!reader after she was forced to be his study buddy.

includes… cursing, a TINY bit of smut, handjob, fluff, overall cuteness 🤭

__________________________________________________________

it wasn’t shocking that jj looked at you everywhere you went. people would consider the nerd boy obsessed with you, the most popular girl in school. you never noticed him until your history class.

your teacher, mr. davis forced you to have a tutor because you were failing tremendously. and of course, jj already found a way to be your tutor. “you need to pass with a ‘c’ or higher or you are failing my class do you understand y/n?”

“fuck me…” you mumbled to yourself as mr. davis showed you your tutor. “who is this?” you asked. “don’t be rude y/n. this is jj maybank and he’ll be your tutor for the next two weeks.” you roll your eyes and reluctantly sat beside him. “i’m not studying at this stupid ass school, we can go to my house after school, don’t get any ideas.” you told jj straight up.

“l-like in your bedroom…?” he stuttered. you laughed at his nervousness. “no, i have a library in there to find all those shitty books about history or whatever.” he nodded. “so um.. im jj.” you rolled your eyes. “yeah i get that now.”

time skip…

jj showed up at your house as promised. you led him to your personal library. you both sat down as he tried to teach you whatever he was talking about. your eyes were wandering until you saw a large bulge poking out his pants. you immediately stopped him from talking more.

“yeah yeah no more of that.” jj looked confused. “did i say something wrong?” you shook your head no, and look down at his pants for him to also realize. once he does his cheeks deepened to a bright red. “s-sorry— i’ll take care of it—” you cut him off quickly. “or let me?”

jj didn’t realize it was even possible for him to grow harder in his jeans just from the words coming out of your mouth. “i never realized how good looking you are until i finally looked closely at you.” you kissed his neck and he moaned heavenly. “i-i’ve never done this before…” you lean up to kiss him. “yeah, i can tell.”

you palmed his hardening cock more and more until he started to jerk, a damp spot coming in his jeans. “jj did you cum already?” you ask. he shook his head no. “no- no i didn’t, it just feels s’good…” he gives you heavenly kisses to your forehead, to calm himself down. “here, let’s take care of it, shall we?”

he quickly nodded. “yes ma’am..” you took his dick out, it was big— bigger than you imagined with a little curve. your mouth watered at the sight. “i-is there something wrong?” he asked, his head resting on yours. “no, not at all.” you reassure him. “okay..” with that, you stroked him, slowly to tease. his tip leaking with precum. he looked so beautiful, you kiss his cheek and move your hands faster and faster.

“t-too much…” jj whined. “no, you got it jj, cmon you can take it.” you encouraged. he pulled you in for a hungry kiss, you gladly kissed him back. to you, he tasted like heaven. he moaned into the kiss, his balls drawing up tight. “i think i’m cumming! shit i’m cumming!” he screamed. you held your tongue out as spurts of cum erupted from his dick. he thrust into your hand until he was empty. you caught as much of his delicious release as you could.

“that- thats so hot..” he said, catching his breath. “you’re really cute jj.” you told him. he blushed and kissed your cheek. “do you… maybe want to go on a date? or you know? anything like that?” you cupped his cheek, kissing him between your words. “i would love to. now that all that is over, wanna continue studying?”

he nods, and hugs you. “i do a little, i’m happy you said yes.” you smile up at him, kissing him again. “i’m glad you asked me out jj.”

___________________________________________________________

a/n: i enjoyed writing this, should i do more parts of their date and potentially their first time?

taglist: @sturniologirlzz @sturns-mermaid @ethanthequeefqueen @aaliyahsturniolo @sophand4n4

[writella]

Here He Is, Finally

Synopsis: “When’s it gonna be my turn? Open me up, tell me you like it, fuck me to death, love me until I love myself—” This is a story about the inner struggles of a desiring Daryl who just wants to be free of the perceptions the town, and his own mind, have put on him, so he can love you and love himself, in the ways he’s always wanted to.

—or: As Daryl becomes the talk of the town, insecurity sets in that hinders him from having sex with you— the thing you most want to do.

Details: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader, ambiguous age gap, mixing early seasons’ + later seasons’ personality of Daryl, the town being mean but also thinking Daryl’s hot because he is, discussions of gossiping, insecurity, and poor self-image, Daryl fights someone :), and smut— unprotected + he’s nervous but then it gets good, and it’s their/Daryl’s/your first time in whatever way you want it to be.

A/N: He’s literally me (I’m a girl).

— With love from writella. ♡

There it was. You finally said it. You told Daryl that you were ready to have sex.

When you told him, the two of you were having a quiet morning and he was about to leave. Pulling yourself up to his height, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, and he took you by the waist, one hand reached up to hold your head, rubbing his thumb there. Good, you had thought, he’s reciprocating. That let you know he was okay, but still, underneath, you knew he was embarrassed about last night. You weren’t going to bring it up though, not then. You wanted to move forward, to show him that you didn’t care. “Daryl,” you started, words slow, uneasy in voice but sure in intention, as you whispered to him from above his shoulder, “I just wanted to tell you– that– I feel like I’m ready.” You paused for a moment. “And whatever you feel, I’m okay with it. Just talk to me.” As silence ensued, you kissed him on the cheek, “I love you,” you said, and pulled back.

Daryl kept his hands in yours as he looked at you. His features were sad and soft as much as they were unreadable. He kissed you on the forehead. “I love you too,” he said– it wasn’t the first time you two had exchanged those words– and then he left. Just like that.

You had no expectation for how he would react. You only knew he wouldn’t give you a flat-out no, so this, was understandable. But still, there was something hollow about it, even if his kiss and words were tender. It was another relationship moment that reminded you that these things never happen as they do in fairytale romances.

You see, you had always pictured him or whoever you were with at the time, bringing you close, kissing you, their fingers trailing down and under the hem of your skirt or pants, asking you if you were ready, if you were sure, if you wanted them to go slow, slower, but Daryl— as it turns—was incredibly pure, or at least pretending to be. Either too nervous or sensitive about these things, possibly inexperienced, or much more innocent with his intentions than you ever expected. It’s like you knew Daryl like the back of your hand, but when it came to anything about you as a couple, his history, who he’s dated before– you were clueless. You didn’t know what it could be.

One thing you did suspect, although Daryl has never told you, is that he thought of you as precious, something to be delicate with, like a flower. Sometimes you’d tell him he didn’t have to be so slow or soft when you were kissing– he was always a little sloppy anyway– and whenever there was a task to get done you’d be the first to tell anyone you could do it yourself, he knew this about you. And it’s not like he babies you or anything, that was never his way. Like when you two were fighting walkers, or doing work around the communities, or when he’s teaching you how to do something. You’ve even told him that he could be a bit demanding sometimes, grouchy, rough, and he agreed– that was true. He didn’t do it on purpose, the whole being hard on you thing. But alone? When he was on top of you or you over him? Waking up to you? Feeling your hand reach for his own in the dark? Even just eating dinner with you? The guy was a mess! A little boy, even. Heart racing. Eyes averted at times.

Whenever he nipped you, on the lips, or the neck, maybe he pushed you on the bed too hard, grabbed your waist too tight that it squeezed the bone, there were always silent apologizes of gentle circles, sweet kisses, and tongue licks to soothe the pain or possible bruises he left on you. And sometimes, when you’re home alone or you shower together, and he starts to kiss you or pull you in by the waist, he almost always sets out with the intention that this time he’d finally do it— the sex thing— he always wanted to. Only if you knew! Honestly, he’d feel like such a pervert if he let you know how many times, both before and after you got together, that he’s thought of being inside you, or you on your knees for him, or him kissing up your thighs and tasting you– he genuinely thinks he’d really like it, all of it, but especially that. But every time you’ve kissed and kissed enough, he’d get too overwhelmed about how to proceed or too nervous to even try. He tells you that you two should shower or go to bed or that he has to go for whatever reason. So all you’ve done is grind on each other, a lot, but that’s about it. You know he’s gotten hard and you’ve gotten wet, but you’re not sure if he’s ever noticed. He wants to put his hands in your pants, he wants to rip your blouse, he wants to squeeze your tits and slap your ass, but every time he thinks about actually doing it, he feels it's too forward or raunchy, or maybe it's not actually like him in the way he’s pictured in his head, or maybe you’d hate it, and specifically the way he did it. And he has thought about doing it slowly, romantically, but every time he thinks about doing that, he feels stupid, thinking he’ll come off as clumsy and pathetic to you. He doesn’t exactly get the concept of slow and sexy yet— reaching up, breathing you in, letting his fingers linger, or hands caress and massage. It’s not that he couldn’t do it though, or so he thinks, if he really tries; it's that doesn’t even think he’s sexy to begin with.

The only thing Daryl knows for sure are the things people call him when they think he’s not listening.

“Deep and… grunty,” one much too young girl said to her equally young friend who giggled, indicating her agreement even if she was too afraid to verbalize it. “I just like his voice,” the first girl said, “it’s sexy.” Or, “Wild,” as one of Aaron’s friends whispered to him, “Like he could throw me around, do it in front of the whole town, and wouldn’t care who saw.” To which Aaron scoffed and replied, “That’s literally my fucking friend.” But in truth, it’s not like he hadn’t thought about it himself, how Daryl looked underneath his vest and button-downs– it was just once though!– he promises!– as if he needed to explain it to himself. He even told his husband about it; they had agreed on Daryl’s attractiveness. Eric called it “rugged,” and they laughed about it over dinner. Now, Aaron would repeat that word as he overheard another group of ladies discussing ways to describe or trademark some of the male leaders in town. As Aaron passed by, “rugged,” was his suggested alternative to the word “beast” when one older lady described Daryl, in a way that would make anyone not a part of the conversation cringe, “Beast, sexy armed beast.” But Aaron was only met with silence and weird hums until a girl replied that “sexy armed rugged,” doesn’t make any sense. To that, all the ladies agreed. As Aaron walked away, wanting nothing more with this kind of conversation about his friends, he caught the new suggestion: “Daddy,” a girl had said with the widest smile on her face— she wasn’t a teenager, but it was obviously her first time being vocal about these things. She must have felt she said something so salacious. And as much as Aaron wanted to gag, there was also a part of him that reluctantly stopped himself from laughing and blushing with the rest of the woman. One of them rolled her eyes saying, “They can’t all be daddy,” to which another girl said, “But they kind of are!” and then he was too far away to hear anymore.

Daryl didn’t get any of it.

The only ones that truly bothered him though were when they added, “I know he’s a little ugly but,” or “I know he’s not my type but,” or “I know he looks a little dirty but,” “And he never does his hair but,” “And he’s not like the smartest but,” but, but, but—

It all made him feel bad about himself; more confused.

Even when it was just generally flattering, he found it hard to take any of it as a compliment. Sometimes he would, maybe the whispers of him being “kinda hot,” on the days when he’d return to his cut-off sleeved shirts, or maybe those moments when a lady would be talking to her friend saying how he’s “handsome,” or how she just knows “he’s packing–big–” and what’s better than a big dick, right? At least that is what Daryl thought– it's the bit of Merle in him– and he bets Negan wished he had one— Daryl was pretty sure Negan’s is a tiny little bitch just like his personality. No one gets to kill one of his best friends and gets more than a three-incher. Right, J.C.? If you’re even up there? Not that Daryl would mind if you were or weren’t, or cares if you did, he wouldn’t mind– Daryl didn’t think about religion that much anymore. And on that note, he realizes that he doesn’t do a lot of the same things he used to anymore. Like the way he would walk around without a care, even confidently sometimes, not thinking about how much he swung his arms or the way he talked or the way his hair fell that day. There was this one time, as he was walking over to Rick in the garden, telling him he couldn’t find whatever particular tools Rick wanted, he yelled, “They ain’t there no more, Rick!” that he heard some older guy say to his friend that Daryl sounded like a “human gremlin,” to which the friend tried to one-up him by saying, “more like a garbage disposal.” Then another day, some girl said he looks like a “wet rat sometimes,” especially when his hair is flat or, as said in the phrase, wet; and he never forgot it, either of them or anything anyone has ever said about him. It’s always been like this. Even when he was a kid.

Daryl tries to remember that people have just gotten too comfortable now that Alexandria is back on track, at least that’s basically what you had said. One day, Daryl came into your room, huffing and throwing himself on your desk chair, saying, “Some people don’t know how to keep their mouths shut.” To which you had asked him what was wrong, but he shook his head.

“Well,” you begin, responding to his un-answer, “some gossip is misogynized. It used to be a way for women to spread information, but–” you avoid the lecture— “I get what you mean.” You look at him, seeing the way his eyes still drift. “I can’t tell you everything, but Rosita and I had heard some people speculate on the whole her and Saddiq and Gabriel thing.” You shook your head, your eyes rolling a little, “It made her upset. I could tell. But it took her a while to talk about it. I think some people forget they can talk behind closed doors now. Our porches aren’t as private as they used to be, and people have gotten mean.” To that, you both nodded in agreement and then you climbed toward the edge of your bed to hold his hand. Something was obviously wrong. “Has anyone said anything about you?”

Again, he shakes his head and you have to leave it at that— all he wanted to do was ask questions about you now, and he wouldn’t let you change the subject.

But at home, alone, he stares at the mirror, trying to see what other people see: handsome, rugged, possibly wild… but all he saw were things he didn’t l understand, things that made him feel he wasn’t good enough. Did they really think he was attractive? And if so, why did they always have to bring up that there was something completely unattractive about him before the compliment? And why were those remarks always easier to believe? Or was it all just some weird fantasy they felt dirty about having? And was being rude behind his back was some sort of justification for it? Was it all of them above? Most importantly, did you think any of this?

Next Saturday, a week after you told him you were ready, the town gathered in the church during the evening for the monthly communal meal. This was something that started during the rehabilitation of Alexandria, another thing that the population was getting too big to contain, but Rick and Judith liked it. So, Michonne agreed to keep it— for now— despite reasoning that “this is what holidays are for, Rick.”

It was about an hour in, 6pm and sunset now past. Some people who had been busy working were still filing in, little by little, but for the most part, a majority of citizens were seated, eating, and chatting. There was a steady rain outside that made everything smell fresh, and if it wasn’t for all the chatter, you could even possibly hear the light drumming on the church walls. Everyone was quite pleased about it, spring seemed to be coming early.

Daryl had not come to see you last night and left early this morning so you didn’t know where he went or what he did, but what you did know for certain is that he never carried an umbrella. Therefore, when he finally arrived, 30 minutes later, his hair was soaked, and since he didn’t even wear his jacket, the long sleeves of his shirt were drenched with water droplets sticking to his vest and shoes that sloshed and left wet footprints on the wooden floor.

Obvious to say, he was noticed by all.

There is a fine line with Daryl between not giving a fuck about how he was perceived, and caring far too much while not willing to do anything about it, and of course, with all that has happened in the past few weeks, it was the ladder. He hated being the center of attention, but it was hard for him to not be noticeable, it never was, especially now. He felt ridiculous.

As he walks onto the stage– where all the tables of food are placed– you follow him.

“Hi,” you say next to him.

“Hi,” he replies, calling you by your nickname kindly enough, but not ever looking at you.

“You know, I think Rick was hoping you were coming back on time. I don’t know why he put all that stuff on his chair if it wasn’t for you or Michonne and Michonne sat with me.”

He simply nods, humming as acknowledgment.

“Daryl,” you move to the other side of the table as he gathers his food so he can look at you. Quietly you say, “We don’t have to talk about it now, but– I hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable the other day. Or if it was about the night before, you just have to tell me.” You poke his shoulder, “You’re acting weird and you know it.”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” is all he grumbles.

“But I still want to say I’m sorry if I did.”

Daryl quickly finds some napkins to dry his hands and wrists with and comes over to place them on the sides of your head to kiss you there. “You ain’t got anything to be sorry about. Alright? I’m fine.” His hands drop and holds you by the neck for a moment, the movement makes some water droplets bleed onto your clothes, you feel it but you say nothing. The only thing Daryl notices from you is that your eyes look almost identical to his despite the differing color– his mood is affecting yours, but he doesn’t know what to say right now to make you feel better so he opts for something he always know is true, “You’re perfect. You know that right?” And I’m just fuckin’ weirdo, he wants to add, but he doesn’t.

You were smiling at him. He doesn’t get it. He looked like an idiot all soaking wet and you were smiling at him. There couldn’t be a better reaction, but still, it’s moments like this where he can’t believe you’re real. All you say is “Okay,” never taking a compliment, just like him, instead of finding a way to break-up with him like he always nearly suspects. “Come to me when you finish, alright? We can leave if you want?”

“Alright,” he responds and you leave him be.

As Daryl goes down the rows of tables picking out what he wants, he heads to the last one. The way the event was set up was that everyone who came early had the opportunity to take a seat at one of the four tables that were placed along each corner of the stage and the rest sat in the pews, but despite the higher vantage point the stage gave, that did not mean Daryl couldn’t hear what those around the stage were saying around him— as always. It must be a hunter’s ear or something.

“Be careful,” a woman says smirking, her eyes gesturing to Daryl. “Let’s hope he doesn’t wet us.” The friend in front of her snickers, looking back to see that Daryl is now by the table just above theirs. Whispering, the first woman continues, shaking her head, “I don’t know how Rick or the girl put up with it. She just acted like nothing was wrong. He’s mudding up the whole damn church!”

Daryl keeps his back turned. This ends up being his last straw. “How about you shut the fuck up,” he mutters.

“Excuse me?”

Louder, facing no one in particular he yells, “Why does everyone act like I don’t got ears?”

You look up, synchronized with everyone in the church and get up with Rick who is already slowly approaching him, but Michonne yanks you down.

“What is your problem?”

To that, he turns back to the woman, “How ‘bout you say what you said again and stop talking shit under your breath.”

“What?”

“I said,” he starts yelling again, “if you got somethin’ to say about me lady, say it to ma’ face. That’s what I said.”

“Hey, what’s goin’ on?” Rick asks almost warningly, but not before someone yells, “Who the fuck are you talking to, man?” from one of the aisles in the back. It was her husband, now standing from his seat. He and his wife make eye contact, and instantly he’s moving closer.

Daryl walks to the edge of the front stage, barking a quick “move” without any pause and Eugene and Siddiq violently bob their heads and grab their plates as Daryl steps on the table and jumps to the floor.

Rick tries to push him back but it’s no use, Daryl pushes him in return and he and the husband are charging at each other, speaking over each other: “What did you say to my wife?” “Told her to shut the fuck up. Thought I said it loud enough–” “Nah, man you were mumblin’ like always–” “Or d’you need me to say it louder with ma garbage disposal mouth?” Daryl pushes him, “Huh?” “I’m not fighting you, man.” But Daryl persists, getting in the man’s face, their noses almost touching. He whispers, “You know, maybe your wife’s got everyone’s name in her mouth because she don’t fuckin’ like you.” The man keeps shaking his head, but Daryl surprises him, he isn’t the only one the town gossips about. “She’s fucking Mark,” he tells him. That was true, and people knew it. “He’s your friend, ain’t he? Maybe that’s why she’s always–” But no, not him, her husband did not know, so he punches, straight in the eye. Daryl almost smiles as he takes the next swing.

The two are tussling, but not for long as Rick takes the chance to get Daryl from behind, taking him away with Gabriel’s help. “You done?” Rick asks as Gabriel holds him on the other side, His grip honestly does nothing though and Daryl shrugs him off. Poor Gabe looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm to see the church– practically his church– in such disarray.

With that, and with Daryl raging too much to contain, he shrugs Rick off and stomps out.

Michonne finally takes her hand off of your wrist and you make you way to leave too. As you walk, you look back to Rick who is already trying to follow, and wordlessly tell him that it’s your turn now, then, turn to awkwardly dodge the people still standing in the aisle and collect your things to go.

Daryl was not hard to find. It almost made you think he wanted to be found or knew you’d go after him— he’s being such a child today. Despite the town lights, you hold out your flashlight to find him sits on a tree stump on the edge of town next to one of his favorite trees. The leaves did a terrible job of covering him from anything but you knew he didn’t care. It was almost laughable honestly. Still, you take pity, he was yours and you were concerned. “I know you don’t care about getting wet,” you say with no malice or disappointment in your voice, “but all that water in your shoes can cause blisters. You didn’t even wear the ones that don’t have holes.”

He just shakes his head, as always, and water droplets fall from the tips of his hair.

“Remember when that happened to me and you drained them with needles even though Saddiq told us not to?”

He stares at you, stone-faced for a moment. “You’re the one who told me to do it.”

“Because they hurt really bad!”

“You were being a baby.”

“Really?” You ask ironically. “So if I’m the baby why are you acting like one right now? It’s been raining since morning, Daryl! Not even a jacket? You’re obviously upset about something but I’m not going to continue this with you in the rain, looking like a sad, wet puppy.”

He sneered at the comment, wet.

“Let’s just go home, okay? Let me take you.”

“We don’t live together.”

You frown. “Don’t be mean, Daryl,” you gently warn. “You know what I mean.”

You hold your hand out for him, water collecting in your palm as you wait. It was more of a gesture than actual help as you two were still a few feet away from each other. “Please? You could have already ran away on your bike or gone home and locked your door but you didn’t. I don’t know what’s going on but don’t act like I don’t know you.”

Reluctantly, he gets up, walking to you in almost slow motion. You wish you could call him the drama queen he is right now, but it was time to get out of this rain– you would hold it in for the time being.

As you enter the small place, you make no conversation. You simply get to work and he doesn’t stop you. You take off your rain jacket and boots, then you take off his vest and boots. You drag him to his room and hang up your sweater and take off your jewelry, then you empty his pant pockets. Finally, you hold his hand as he trails behind you and into the bathroom. You unbutton his shirt and unzip his pants and place them all in the hamper. He takes off his underwear and helps you take off your clothes too. When you’re done, you turn on the water and go in, he follows. You bathe and wash his hair in silence. You are tender and gentle, and he knows it, he appreciates it, but his mind is loud, and angry, and he feels so pathetic as you wash him like he’s 5 years old. You turn around to start washing yourself as he takes care of cleaning his legs and lower area. After he’s done, all he can do is look at you, your body, the soft humming you can’t help but do when you shower. It’s exactly as he said, you’re perfect. He wants to bang his head against the wall because of it.

When you two finish, you sit on his bed, wearing one of his white shirts and a pair of boxers, he wears the same except his bottoms are sweatpants. He hates these kinds of casual clothes actually, he’s only okay with wearing it sometimes, but he has nothing else at the moment. All he had to do was give his clothes to Carol to wash, but he didn’t. He hasn’t really done anything this week.

“Ms. Ellen is a bitch.” You finally say, giving him an ice pack for his eye. “And so is Mr. Gary and they both have the whiteness names in the world. And they’re both lazy as fuck and reek of nepotism because they only had one of the biggest houses and biggest egos in Alexandria because they were friends with Deanna and they’re still bitter that their house being destroyed in the fire— which I get— but it’s not okay that she uses her bitterness to talk shit about everyone. And it’s also not okay that you used your anger to fight someone who didn’t deserve it. That wasn’t like you.”

“Maybe it is. You didn’t always know me.”

“Well, sure, can act like a tough—”

“I don’t act like anything—”

“Fine, I’ll change it: Can you be a tough guy? Yeah. But do you pick fights and make big scenes in front of the kids like that? No, you don’t.” You stare at him, tapping him on the knee and forcing him to look at you. “You not talking is obviously not working, Daryl. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

He takes a moment. “I just—”

“What?”

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” he finally says lowly.

“I don’t think you could,” you answer, “I’m not even now, I’m just frustrated. Or confused really. Why do you think you would?”

He lowers his ice pack, “Cause I’m not fuckin’ Rick.”

You laugh a little. “Well, I did have my suspicions, but great, that’s good to know. I’m glad you’re not fucking Rick.”

He sucks his teeth. “Be serious.”

“Have you not realized I’ve been trying to be? For weeks now? It obviously doesn’t work.” Both of you look down as you continue, “And I finally tell you how I feel and what I want and you just leave and barely talk to me for the rest of the week. And before you even mention coming into my bed at night or saying goodnight or good morning to me and telling me what you’ll do that day, that’s not talking, it's just saying stuff. At some point I can’t always chalk it up to Oh, that’s just Daryl; at some point, a person starts thinking that they're the problem. That I’m the problem! That I’m not good enough.”

A tear falls down your cheek involuntarily, then another; you were clenching your jaw after you finished speaking but it was no use. After everything, all the bullshit and the girls and the punch to his eye that really fucking hurt even though it was his fault he got it, this is actually the worst thing that has happened to Daryl in the past months– making you cry.

“You’re more than good enough,” he says in his mumble, still not looking at you. “I’m just stupid.”

“You’re not stupid!” You yell frustratingly as you wipe tears away. “Stop talking down about yourself!”

Daryl looks off into the window. He wants to speak, he does. The words are all on the tip of his tongue but they cannot come out, they never do. As he watches you wipe away your last tears, he thinks everyone is right, that that guy is right, he has a garbage mouth, his voice is poison. He never makes any sense and he always says the wrong thing. Why speak anyway?

“I can’t help you or at least try to understand if you don’t say anything. I know it's hard— I don’t like doing it either. I was scared to tell you what I did last week. But it just starts with one thing.”

“It's too hard to.”

“But I’ve never judged you, right? ”

He shakes his head. You haven’t.

“The first thing that comes to your mind when I say, ‘what’s wrong?’, what is it? Just say it. I don’t care what it is. I’m not going to judge you, I’m not going to say you’re wrong, anything—”

“People think I’m ugly,” he interrupts, “I’ve heard them say it.”

Your eyes widen, in shock for him and in shock that people could still care about such stupid things right now. “Who said that to you?”

He shakes his head. “That’s why I mentioned Rick. No one says stuff like that about Rick.”

“Well, I don’t want you to be like Rick and you don’t have to be.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

He gestures to himself, slapping his hands on his thighs, “Look at me.”

There’s something about the way his hand then reaches to cover his eyes in frustration, the way he slides it down to scratch his beard, accidentally magnifying to you the wisps of salt and pepper among the brown that gives you a clue to what he means. “I’m not some little girl, and I haven’t been for a long time.”

“I know, but you’re not my age either. And I don’t always think about you when it comes to it, it’s about me- I think about me.”

“So what about it? When it comes to the hair on your head and your eyes and the way you talk— that has nothing to do with how old you are, that’s just who you are. You didn’t choose to look as you do. And you and Rick have always looked the same age if I have to mention him, and his beard is whiter than yours at this point. Neither of you look old, or bad.” Your words do nothing so far. “You also have a better build than plenty of people in town. You’re stronger too.”

“But when they talk about Rick, all they say is that he talks too much and that he’s bossy and hardass and at least that’s true.”

You couldn’t help but smile, almost laughing a bit at that. It kind of was true.

“I’ve never heard anyone say things about him the way they say about me. Never anything about how he looks. But when they talk about me— they think I’m a fuckin’ animal.” There is silence after this. The word wild lingers in his mind and animal in yours. Again you want to ask, who could say that and have they not realized all Daryl has done for this place? Then, the more you listen, the more you realize that hidden beneath those with endless respect are some with hearts of cruelty and minds stuck in the regular old world ways that don’t exist anymore. “And sometimes, when I think about why you like me, I think that maybe it’s despite other things.”

“Despite?”

“Despite.” He practically spits.

“We all have bad qualities though. We’re not perfect.”

“I mean that I’m not some regular good looking guy.”

“Why would I want regular?” Your smile fades as his sad eyes persist. “Daryl, I can’t change your mind or make you feel the way I do about you, but why can’t you trust that I like you, and that I want to be around you? And that I’m,” you blush, “very attracted to you and I’ve felt like an embarrassing teenage girl the past few months waiting and trying to get you to have sex with me!” Quietly you say, “Have you not realized how much I really want you? How much I care? Everyday I feel lucky.”

He can’t take it. “Guess it’s like you said— can’t believe it if I don’t see it myself.”

His mouth is screwed shut, his throat tight, but just like you, it’s no use, a tear rolls down his cheek. Immediately you hug him. He holds you tightly in return and even though it makes your ribs hurt a little, you let him. All of this makes you see how much you two are alike than you’ve ever realized.

“You know,” you say into his hair, “there was this one time, I was up super early and couldn’t go back to sleep so I went out for a walk. I passed by Olivia’s house and she waved me over from her window and asked me if I could help her restock the pantry before Rick came later in the day to check it because she had this huge migraine. Well, that turned into me doing the whole thing for her. She said she was going inside for a break and some water and the next thing I know she’s asleep on her couch! And you know how her niece lives with her? I guess she runs in the morning and while I was finishing up, her and her friend lean up against one of the garage doors and I hear them talking. I was just about to open the door to leave but then she says, ‘She’s sweet but kind of a kiss-ass, right? Like a try-hard?’ And then her friend goes, ‘Yeah, she really wants to be one of them,’ ‘But all she is, is just Daryl’s little girlfriend.’” Daryl lets go to face you, his eyes incredulous just as yours were when he said someone called him ugly. “And then they started saying how I insert myself into places or something, so thought if I came out right then and they see me having done Olivia’s job for her… I didn't want them to get an up-close look of them being right. So I waited until they went in the house and then I left and for the whole rest of the week I was upset because I thought I was becoming friends with those girls but really I wasn’t, and I questioned if Rick and Michonne or Rosita or Glenn and Maggie even thought of me as a friend because they actually like me or if I’m even good enough to be one or if it’s only because I’m associated to you that they care to talk to me. I felt pathetic too.” You pause. “So, I’m really sorry, Daryl. You don’t deserve to feel like you’re being picked on in the town you live in— in the place you helped create.”

“It ain’t your fault.”

“That doesn’t make a difference. I should have said something.”

“You didn’t have to. I wanted that to happen.”

“But I wish I knew. Cause I would have if I knew. I feel like I let Michonne stop me because I didn’t understand. And all I’m saying is whether I've had it as bad as you or not, I do get it. And I’m angry for you. And you don’t have to be embarrassed to tell me things like this. It was dumb of me to keep my feelings in, just like you do with everything.”

Daryl swipes his hair to the side, parts of it are dry and waving while other areas are still wet, making him think about the rat joke. “No one likes you because of me,” he says. “You’re likable because you’re you and you care. And fuck those dumb-ass girls. They’re idiots for saying that.” He rubs your thigh. “I didn’t say anything the other day because when we were in the shower the night before I,” God, he feels stupid, “I got hard and you saw it and I realized it was the first time you saw it like that before and, I don’t know, I got scared.”

“Did you think that I’d think you’re ugly?”

“I don’t know.”

“Daryl,” you tisk, “after the amount of times we’ve showered together already?”

He gets defensive, “I don’t know! Felt different.”

“People usually get excited to know their partner is excited because of them.”

“I just feel like you’re gonna be disappointed.”

“Why do you always think that? I don’t have any expectations. I just want you to show me you love me.” You begin to look nervous, “I want to feel wanted too.”

“But I do… I do want you.”

“Then show me.”

“I don’t know how.”

You try to think, “Daryl— what is it that you picture when- when you want to do it?”

“I picture you,” he says simply.

“You do?” Your face is immediately warm.

He laughs, “Of course I do.”

“Well what do I do? Or what do you do to me?”

“Depends.”

“Pick one,” you say, almost desperately.

“Sometimes it just starts with what we always do. Kissin’. Maybe you’re on top of me.”

You waste no time; you get on top of him.

“And I press you down.” Daryl’s hands are now heavy on your hips, your hands are on his chest, you rock into him slowly.

“And sometimes I think about you bouncing on me or-” he pauses, the way you rock and the way he pushes up to you hitting a perfect spot of friction that makes the both of you gasp.

“Say it,” you tell him.

“I’m fucking you from behind. Or you're on the bottom and I’m going hard or being all gentle and shit like you but I don’t know how.”

“You know we can do all that, right?”

Daryl is red. Both you and him are surprised at yourself, but his bashfulness almost brings it out of you naturally. And honestly, your jacked and grumpy dilf boyfriend has left you repressed for far too long— you’re horny.

Suddenly, you move yourself onto one of his thighs and start palming his bulge as you rock. “Do I do this in your dreams?”

He almost groans, “Now you do.”

You move yourself from his thigh and lay down to start kissing him. He reciprocates, grabbing your face and pulling you close. Daryl starts nipping at your neck and you try your hardest not to yelp so he won’t stop. As you two continue, your slick starts to wet his boxers and you press your legs together as he gets harder under his sweatpants.

“Have you ever noticed how wet I get when we kiss?”

“Only at night,” it’s hard for his words to come out as you continue palming him, “when you don’t have clothes on.”

“And you never did anything about it?” You whine. “Do you know how bad I need you? How much I think about you?”

“I think about you more.”

“You do?

“Yes.” Daryl swallows, whimpering a little. You now stroke him, his dick riding up against his thigh, and it feels too good. “What- What do I do in your dreams?”

“You lay me on the bed and put your dick in me and fuck me and it feels amazing,” you say between hot breaths. “And you’re not scared to do it.”

“I wanna do it.”

“So, please, Daryl, do it. I want it so bad.”

Daryl uses your words as courage. He takes you off of him and goes over you.

You both take off your shirts and he strips you from his boxers and him from his sweatpants.

Finally, without regret or without him turning away you see his cock stand. It’s proud, meaty, and you can’t lie, a little scary, but you’ll never tell him, even if your widening eyes give you away. It’ll fit, you assure yourself. You won’t be afraid.

“You okay?” He asks, timidity setting in again.

But you nod assuredly. “Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

You pout, he’s stalling. “When you look at me, what do you see?”

“Beautiful.”

“And you're handsome. No pretenses. No exceptions.” You come up on your knees to face him, kissing his lips softly. “It’s like we said, we’ve dreamed about this.”

You lay down again, and Daryl places his hands on your inner thighs to spread them, making space for himself. You watch as takes hold of himself, mouth agape and pumping himself a few times as he stares at your body before slowly entering you. Your pussy is drooling at the sight.

Your eyes instantly close and scrunch. Although it worries Daryl, he’s glad you’ve shut them so he can continue looking up and down— up at your face to see if you’re in pain and down as he watches his cock enter you for the first time. You were incredibly tight to him, tighter than he ever imagined, he wasn’t used to this feeling and he liked it, a lot. It made his stomach clench and all his muscles flex as his breathing gets heavier, trying to stop the possibility of him moaning at the sight of it all.

“Are you okay?”

It was big and there was something about it that felt good but it hurt, the stretch indescribable, but you nod and tell him, “I like it,” because that was true, and everything else felt like too much to explain right now, your thoughts almost dissipating.

“You sure?”

You just nod again, whining.

“Alright,” he says, putting his hands on the bed to start.

Once more your eyes screw shut. He almost takes himself out before he pushes back into you again. He doesn’t know if he went slow enough but he tried. Your eyes wrinkling because of how hard you closed them doesn’t help though. He wants to tell you to relax but he’s not even relaxed himself to even make it sound believable.

He tries again, not going so far out this time and slowly goes back in to the hilt again, so slowly in fact he thinks that must have been awkward for you. He stops, tries one more time, then stops again. Your sounds seem like you’re hurt. He knows you’ll say it’s just pain and adjustment to his size but he instantly perceives it as disgust. He knows it’s not, but he can’t help it, he can’t. He must be ‘too much’; ‘too big,’ that’s what it is. Those are things he has heard in porn tapes Merle used to give him or things he noticed in porno mags he maybe used to read that he had found in a store near Hershel’s farm all those years ago, and supposedly it was a good thing for it to be too much, but now, look at you: you were in pain. And it was taking everything in him not to ram into you. He felt pathetic, again. Stupid, again. Like he didn’t know what he was doing. Maybe he should just withdraw right now, clean you up, try to give you a sympathetic look through his hair that said he was sorry for defiling you and not even make you feel an ounce of pleasure in the process. Everyone was right, he is a joke.

“Daryl,” you say, looking up at him, “you don’t have to keep stopping for me. I just need to relax and you just need to be slow. I think I can take it.”

“I know,” he responds, kissing your forehead.

“Close your eyes,” you tell him. “Do what feels right to you. You have to trust me to tell you if it hurts or not.”

He almost laughs at that. You think he’s so strong; that he has all the power. It’s so strange to him.

Daryl puts his head in the crux of your neck, closes his eyes, and tries again. He holds your waist, thumb on your ribs and the other fingers on your back as he pushes his hips into you.

You hug his chest and feel all of it. “Make yourself feel good Daryl, it’s gonna feel so good to me if you do that, I promise.” After his 4th small pump you let out a whiny moan of relief. “Oh- okay- keep going.”

Daryl moves his elbows to the bed by your head and starts pushing his hips against you, finding a rough yet steady rhythm. He loves the slapping sound your bodies are making and can’t help but speed up. He goes deeper and you start moaning. He already feels he’s losing himself. He tries to kiss you to slow down, but realizes he can’t plow into you the same way he just found out he likes. He goes back to it and he starts grunting and groaning— there is a part of him that is embarrassed by it but it just feels so good. “Are you gonna come?” He asks between sharp thrusts.

“Don’t focus on that,” you tell him. “Stay like this. Please.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice, he really can’t think of anything anymore than continuing to pump himself in you so he does. You try your best to rock up into him, but he has full control, his hands on your hips still as tight as ever as he pushes into you, making you and the bed bounce at his mercy.

You’re more than fine with it all. Even better, you couldn’t believe this meant that Daryl was about to come inside you. Something in you knew it was about to happen. It was the way he placed his elbows by your head and started cursing and ramming into you harder and even whimpered in your ear and gave you these little puppy kisses there before getting back to it. You were surprised by how noisy he was but you didn’t dare say a word other than panting and whining back into him so he’d continue, even in moments when it felt too much and too hard. He was forgetting all his doubts and that was the goal right now. You lock your legs around his hips and tell him, “You feel amazing inside me. My handsome man,” and that does it, “Oh, fuck,” he says as he releases every last drop of himself inside you.

Now, as he slows down, he looks at you, thumb on your bottom lip and chin as he tries his best to keep rolling his hips on you as he comes down from his high, but you ask, “Will you kiss me down there, Daryl? I’ve always wanted that.”

“You don’t want me to make you come?”

“I think it’ll happen if you do it like that. I just want to know what it feels like.”

He stops for a moment deciding if this means he’s failed or not, but he simply says, “Okay,” all kindly and nodding like it was your idea even though it was because this means another one of his dreams were coming true.

Instantly, he’s licking you, feeling more assured of what he could do— this was one of his most vivid fantasies so even though he doesn’t know for sure, he thinks he’s got.

“Oh, oh my god,” his tongue is bringing up wetness to your clit and sucking on it, “that’s good.” He starts licking your clit, going fast, “Daryl, that’s so good.”

He looks up at you, dazed already, “Yeah?”

“Oh, yes.” You fix his hair and he loves the feeling. Truly, he was going a little too fast actually, going up and down and this way and that way too much, but the sounds his mouth and your pussy were making together were too glorious. You let him go, you let him be proud, and either way, you’re whining and moaning because of it. He’s perfectly imperfect and he doesn’t even know it. But you’re too in love with the feeling of him to explain what that means right now so all you say is what he told you about yourself in the church, “I think you’re just perfect.”

To that, he stops again and he looks up at you, smiling. It’s one of those rare ones he seldom does, teeth and all, and your slick coating his lips all the while. His eyes are shining, and he gives you the smallest, sweetest, most innocent kiss to the most obscene place on your body— your clit.

At this point all your sounds have been short, quiet, filled with whines but to this, you moan at the sight, full and loud. It’s involuntary. It’s pornographic. It’s the hottest thing he’s ever heard in his life. His cock stirs, springing up again as he goes back to giving you your first and forever the most slobberiest head of your life.

After a while he beckons you from below, “Hey, angel,” he calls.

“Mm,” you respond lightly. You’re nearly blissed out. He’s going to make you come.

“I think those girls were right.”

Your eyes become so cute yet so sad— you just want him on you again. “What do you mean?”

“You are sweet. Sweetest thing I’ve ever had in my life.”

“Oh,” you whisper, moaning again as he goes back to licking your clit. “Oh. Fuck.”

He starts licking and kissing your puffy lips, making wet sounds with his tongue, slurping little bits of you where he can. He loves how slick and noisy your pretty pussy is. Your clit throbs and he hums into it all dark and grumbled and husky going, “Mmmmmm.”

You tell him, “God, it’s so good, Daryl.” To which he responds, referring to a different it, “And it’s mine.”

Oh, so he’s cocky now? Well, that’s new for him. You lay back at the thought, at the feeling, reveling in delight.

Here he is, finally.

[pombeom]

camming collaboration pt.1 | taesan fic (nsfw)

pairings: camboy/camgirl au, camgirl!reader x camboy!taesan, rivals to ??, dom!taesan x sub!reader

warnings: a lot of porn with a lot of plot, solo female masturbation, starts with just reader x viewers plot, indented text is the viewers’ comments, use of toys, mutual masturbation, squirting, cumming on reader, taesan is described as nonchalant until he isn’t?, kinda messy, no actual intercourse happens in this part but will do in part 2 :/ (also not proofread)

a/n: this was honestly just a random idea that popped into my head and turned out to be longer than expected so it will be spilt into multiple parts! keep an eye out for part 2!

The bed was all set up, sheets all clean and every cushion in its place. Changing the lights from white to a midnight blue, you log into your account and set up the stream. You were known for your darker setting compared to that of other streamers on the site who mostly opted for the fluffy pink, lovey dovey aesthetic or the cliche red lighting, which was easy to create. 

Ensuring that everything was in place once again, you put on your black face mask and begin the live stream. Not a minute goes by and the comments are already flooding in. 

looking hot today, as usual 

“Thank you lux_mirror64.” 

hope you stay for longer this time. i’ve had a rough day.

“Is that so? I guess I could stay a little bit longer for you minminx,” you whisper seductively. 

You continue to respond to comments as your hand slowly makes its way under your black T-shirt, fondling your boobs, without completely exposing yourself but your perked up nipples still poked through the thin fabric. The corner of your mouth lifts under your mask at the thought of teasing your viewers like this. And just as you thought, the comments begin exploding. 

don’t be a slut blueberry and just strip 

darling, take that too off now

“I didn’t realise you guys were this desperate to see my tits. Is this not enough for you?” You tease, mocking your viewers neediness, “It is getting a little hot in here though.” 

With that, you strip yourself of your T-shirt, revealing your naked assets and squeezing the muscle harder. You push your boobs up and down, watching as the gifts and cash flowed in from your viewers. As you thanked each and every gifter, you pull out your clear dildo from the side of your bed, showing it off to the camera. 

“I’m going to be using something simple today. But just because it’s simple doesn’t mean it won’t be good. LoveBae sent me this as a gift and so I wanted to show you guys how I use it to get off.” 

You pull off your black lace thong and wave it in front of the camera, showing off your wet arousal that you left behind on your underwear. 

blueberry is so wet for us already? I bet she’s imagining taking our cock instead of that dildo

someday, I’m gonna steal her panties and shoot my load all over them

are you sure you can take all 8 inches of that dildo blueberry? 

Reading through the comments just turned you on further, your arousal now leaking down your thigh. You didn’t hesitate as you pushed the dildo in, taking in each and every inch as it stretched out your gummy walls. 

You begin slow, pumping it in and out at a steady pace, building up the tempo. There wasn’t even room to think as soon you ram the dildo into your pussy as fast as you could. Your moans are muffled by the mask but your viewers could still hear every crude sound you were making. 

Fuck blueberry you’re gonna make me cum already

“Just thinking about your cum, is making me dizzy Lord_Harlow.” 

As the dildo abuses your core, your fingers start playing with your clit, sending shock waves up your body. You vision becomes blurry with the build up of tears in your eyes, the comments now being the least of your concern. 

“Fuck! I want you guys to all cum with me. On the count of 3. 3, 2, 1-“ 

Your core erupts as your body begins shaking violently, white cum oozing out your pretty pink hole onto the grey sheets. 

Taking a moment to calm down from your orgasm as your body eventually holds still. 

You check the stats on your live, feeling quite accomplished at the 45k viewers. 

“Thank you guys for tuning in. Have a great week. There are some big things coming soon so look forward to that. Good night guys.” 

You turn off the stream, and slump back into the bed, ripping the mask off your face. 

You think back to the time when you first started this as a way to earn passive income when you were still in your minimum wage graduate job. To think that you’re now one of the, if not, most popular cam girls on the website. Of course you still had to consider ‘Mountain San’, who despite being a male, had wracked up a similar amount of views to you in the past year. His rise to the top was no joke and definitely talked about most on this community.

Whether you’d realised it or not, you had built up some sort of unspoken rivalry in recent months. You were both receiving the same sponsorships from companies and your view count was so similar that the top 2 ranking on the website fluctuated almost on a daily basis. One day you’d be on top and the next him. This naturally lead to conflict between your fans as well. Whilst his were predominantly female and your male, you witnessed the arguments of who was better on the forums. It was almost tragic to see the both of you being put down the other’s viewers yet at the same time, a sense of pride swelled in your chest whenever someone was to take your side.

Looking up at the time, you noticed you only had an hour till you were supposed to sleep. You had a meeting with the website’s team tomorrow, discussing some future stream plans in light of the website’s 10 year anniversary. 

After changing the sheets and throwing the old ones into the washing machine, you take a quick shower before throwing on a baggy T-shirt over your underwear and hopping into bed. You were filled with a slight excitement for tomorrow as you had been told very little about the plans so you slept awaiting the anticipation of the big reveal in the meeting. 

Dressed in your baggy jeans and black long sleeve top, you were feeling ready for the meeting today. It had been a while since the team had last called you in, considering you managed most of your streaming by yourself, but you did welcome the thought of having other people in charge for once.  

You enter the small office building and make your way upto the first floor meeting room. Having been here a few times before, you were familiar with the environment. 

The meeting table was round and a group of people were already gathered around it. You noticed someone new amongst the team, his demeanour and attitude being completely different to that of the rest of them. As you enter, you quickly greet everyone before taking the last empty seat besides the new guy. 

“Hi, I’m Y/n,” trying to be polite and introducing yourself. 

“Hi. I’m Taesan.” His voice lacked the warmth that was present in yours, simply replying to you for the sake of it. 

“Can I get everyone’s attention. I’m starting the meeting now.” 

The chatter in the room went silent as everyone’s heads turned towards the manager. 

“As I’m sure everyone is aware, we have Y/n and Taesan who are here with us today.” 

A sudden confusion arose. You thought the new guy was simply another staff member on the team. But if he deserved an introduction alongside yours he clearly must be someone more important. You take another glance at him from the side of your eyes, and then it started to make sense. His loosely styled black hair should have been a dead giveaway from the start but you only noticed who he was upon seeing the infamous silver chains that hang from his neck. Taesan was Mountain San. For fucks sake what was he doing here. You cursed in your head quite annoyed that you were sat next to your unannounced rival. But you were forced to push that to the back of your mind as the meeting continued. 

“With the upcoming anniversary of our website, the team thought a collaboration between Blueberry Moon and Mountain San would be the perfect way to commemorate the occasion. As the top 2 streamers, we hope you cooperate with us to make this project come to life. What do you guys think?” 

You were completely thrown off the proposition, lacking the words to even reply to his question. 

“I’m ok with it if Y/n is,” Taesan’s short  answer was straight to the point and further shifted the pressure of decision-making onto you. He was your biggest rival on the website, yet you didn’t want to disappoint the team especially on such a big occasion. It could be an opportunity to fizzle out any tension between your fandoms in a way. But were you willing to give into it? 

“I guess I’m ok with it too then.” 

“That’s great! We’ll set up a schedule but first can we have a chemistry screening to see how the both of you come off, on camera. Does Friday sound good?” 

“Yeah thats fine,” you reply on behalf of the both of you.

“Before then, can we just ask you to spend a bit of time together. I think it’d be better if your relationship is built up more organically off screen.” 

You knew that the manager was hinting at your rivalry. Even if no one every mentioned it, it wad obvious that it could be an issue. 

After the meeting ended, you managed to catch up to Taesan who seemed very eager to leave. 

“Hey. You heard what the manger said right? Here’s my number and I think you should come over tomorrow. We can spend a bit of time getting to know each other.” 

“Getting to know each other in what ways?” His question may have been innocent but his smirk and the glint in his eyes suggested otherwise.  

“Ugh. You know what I mean. Anyway give me your number too so I can send you my address.” 

Grabbing your phone, he inputs his contact information, adding your number onto his phone at the same time. 

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He gives you a two finger salute before turning his back and speeds off. His arrogance and cockiness was getting to you.

It was exactly 6pm when you heard the doorbell ring in your apartment. You didn’t even have to check as you knew that Taesan would be coming over as you had organised over a short chain of texts. He wasn’t much of a talker in person nor over text. Communicating with him made you want to rip his hair out in hopes for some sort of reaction. What did his fans see in him? 

“Come on in. You can sit here. Is there anything you want to eat or drink? We can order dinner if you haven’t eaten yet?” 

“I haven’t actually. Have you?”

“No I haven’t either.” 

The conversation was almost awkward as the two of you sat in the lingering conflict of your online presences. 

“I’ll order food in that case,” he uttered. 

“No it’s ok. I’ve got this. You are my guest after all,” you interject, pulling out your phone from your pocket.

“Well too bad, already ordered. Hope you’re hungry for some pizza,” Taesan says whilst showing off his phone screen, flashing a subtle mischievous grin. 

Slightly thrown off by the speed at which he ordered, you proceeded to ask him questions about his life and the reason why he started pursuing this career as a camboy. This was your attempt at breaking the ice, yet it felt as though the ice was far from being broken. 

“Can I get a tour of your apartment?” His question sprung up on you so suddenly but you were glad that he was taking some sort of initiative. 

“Of course. Follow me.” 

You take him around each room, showing him the kitchen, the main bedroom, and bathroom. You then reach the door furthest away. You hesitated a bit, wondering if it was acceptable to show him your streaming room. From what you remembered it was neat and clean but it felt almost too intimate to be sharing on the first meeting. But in the name of ice breaking, you opened the door letting him in so he could take a look. 

“This is the room I use to stream. That’s my filming setup and that’s the bed obviously. Oh and the lights change colours too.”

You begin fiddling around with remote control switching between the different colours as a way of showing him the different options. 

“What’s in there?” He asks, clearly pointing at the set of drawers beside the bed. 

“Oh umm…that’s just my toys and stuff. I get a lot of PR so I ended up getting a drawer to organise it.” Your cheeks flushed a shade of pink, embarrassed to suddenly be revealing the intimate parts of your home and of yourself.

“I see. Have you used them all then? On your streams?” 

“Mhmm. Mostly yeah. I test them out before the stream and if all is good then yeah I use them.” You feign your confidence trying to answer his questions of sudden curiosity. You didn’t want to make things any more awkward than they already were.  

“Can you show me how you use them?” His tone was sly and almost teasing as he eyes you up and down, the grin on his face growing wider by the second. 

The thumping in your chest grows louder, as your mind goes blank. You were baffled and confused. How were you supposed to respond to that? 

“I mean we’re going to be fucking each other on a stream anyway so might as well get a head start now.” 

Where did all this come from? His nonchalance vanished into thin air as he presented a new version of himself to you: curious, teasing and eager. 

“Umm… yeah you’re right. I guess it’s fine then. This is just a headstart.” 

When you were trying to make things less awkward between you two, you had no idea it would end up here with Taesan in your streaming room asking to watch you use your toys on yourself. The usual confidence you possessed on camera lacked in real life, so you were just a stuttering mess.

“Which one do you want me to use?” Your voice managed to say. 

“Let me have a look.” 

He takes himself to the drawer opening each and every one as he rummages around trying to find the perfect toy for you to use. After careful consideration, he decided on an 8 inch purple, vibrating dildo, handing it over to you. 

“This one. Show me how you use it.” His demands were sharp and straightforward but the undertones of his commands were more playful. 

Initially, you were unsure about it but with each word that came out his mouth, the larger the pool grew between your legs. Hence, you were quick to remove your jeans, leaving you in just your white underwear which was already soaked wet, earning you a smirk from Taesan. 

You began prepping yourself, using your fingers to rub over your clothed clit. You craved more tho and this was obvious with the way your hips began grinding against your own hand. Ridding yourself of your panties, your long fingers were quick to dip into your wet core, pumping them slowly, stretching your walls to make sure you could fit the dildo. 

You hadn’t noticed but Taesan had helped himself to the chair near your desk, spreading his legs and leaving his bulge visible. As you eyed his hard-on through his black jeans, you grabbed the dildo and turned on the vibration setting to its lowest speed, ensuring you eased your way into it. You place the tip at your entrance, the vibrations sending jolts of shock up your spine. You continue to push it up inside your pussy as the vibrations had you squirming, feeling sensitive to the rhythmic pulses. 

In the meantime, Taesan had pulled his jeans and boxers down below his knees as his cock stands straight at an impressive length against his clothed torso. His hands run along his thighs before giving his balls a firm squeeze, precum oozing down his shaft. 

You finally start to pump the dildo inside your pussy, increasing the vibration to the next level, causing your knees to shake. Your eyes catch Taesan’s before you notice his large hands stroking his cock violently, matching the pace of your own movements. 

“You’re so sexy, Y/n. I bet you get told that a lot but it’s true. Look at you rolling your eyes like such a slut.” 

His voice much lower than before, sent goosebumps up your arms. The shift in his personality was unexpected and you got a sense of thrill from that. 

“Go faster. Push that fucking toy into you faster. Pretend it’s my dick ramming into you.” 

You did just as he said, slamming the dildo against your pussy, the top abusing the wall of your cervix every time. 

“Such an obedient little slut. Bet your male viewers wank off to you just like I am right now. Bet that gets you really turned on.” 

“Fuck Taesa- aghhh!” Your moans echo through the room as they escape your mouth freely. Your mask wasn’t there to block the sound this time. Taesan’s groans also grow louder as he strokes his cock aggressively. 

“I’m gonna cum!” You moan, eyes rolling back into your head as you feel your high build up in every muscle of your body. 

“Cum for me bitch.” 

With one last stroke, your insides explode as a clear liquid squirts out onto Taesan who was now standing up in front of you. Mere seconds later, he reaches his own high, whining as he shoots his cum on your stomach, making an even bigger mess of you and your sheets. 

“Shit, you look so hot right now. Makes me wanna mark you up. I’ll leave that for next time though,” he taunts, running a hand through his hair as he stands above you half naked. 

“I didn’t know you had it in you to be so…you know…not stoic?” 

“That side only comes out when it needs to. Don’t get your hopes up.” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his arrogance. You found it annoying at first but now you could see why many found it charming. He was deserving of his popularity. 

Now that you’d seen this side of him, you were beginning to look forward to the collab stream. 

[ctimenefic]

Strap? 👀 👀 👀 👀 👀

A (belated) response to this very silly prompt game. Er, there's about 4k of this for some reason. As always, eternal gratitude to LP for looking over this and spotting the clangers

“Are they red?” 

Fernando Alonso’s breath smells like whisky. 

Carmen imagines kneeling in front of a little girl crammed between her parents on their small sofa, all of them whooping and hollering as their countryman, their driver, becomes the youngest champion of all time, and telling her one day she’ll be sitting thigh to thigh with him as the new year rings in around them.

It’s such a dazzling absurdity she completely forgets the question. “Pardon?”

Alonso’s fingers flick down with his gaze. Down to her crotch. “Your underwear,” he says, baldly. “Are they red?”

He’s speaking Spanish, of course. He’s asking because she’s Spanish, because it’s tradition. Red, on New Year’s, for luck. 

That doesn’t stop her toes curling in her heels. Mindgames, they say about him. Well. She can play. Carmen raises an eyebrow. “Of course.”

Alonso leans back, satisfied. “Good. For luck in love, isn’t it?”

His knee nudges against hers as he opens his legs. 

George is a hot line up against her other side, sweaty from dancing and gesticulating as he chats expansively to one of his English mates – John or Jack or James, does something with land management. He’s oblivious, of course; she can’t tell if the white coal of indignation burning under her sternum is on his behalf or her own. 

She lets Alonso watch as she adjusts a damp curl over an ear. George catches her hand, presses a kiss against the inside of her wrist without breaking stride in his conversation. When she turns back to Alonso, she barely has to tweak the wattage of her smile; she loves George best when he’s slightly ridiculous. “I’ve been lucky already.” 

“Mm,” Alonso replies, neither agreement nor dissent. It rankles; reminds her of the kind of disinterest too many people in the paddock show her, when they call her sweet or helpful or picture-perfect. But then his crooked grin is back, all teeth, much more dangerous. “He must look good when you fuck him.”

Her mind stutters, once at the crudeness and again at the specifics. Not- not when you fuck. Not when he fucks you. When you fuck him.

Sometimes, she doesn’t let George touch her. He’s so much bigger than her; it changes her, something thick and warm fermenting in her belly, to see all of him stretched out and corded with need, jerking into her touch. Afterwards, she can pass a mirror and not recognise herself, the way she can’t bring her teeth together for a smile, jaw slack. 

When you fuck him. Alonso’s right. George’d be so good for it. For her.

Her face must be as red as her knickers – maybe she couldn’t challenge the master after all. But Alonso’s still looking past her, where George is rubbing his fingertips against his collarbones, his whole hand easily accommodated by the gape in his unbuttoned shirt. 

She can see it, suddenly; that neck straining under the span of a smaller hand. She hears Alonso’s breath rumble out of him.

George catches their looks then, starts extracting himself from John/Jack/James. It’s then that Alonso catches her, face still flaming. “Oh, you haven’t. Pity.” His mouth turns rueful. The hot glint in his eye dims. 

Carmen shakes her head, just a little. It’s the truth, sure, but not for long, not now the idea’s culturing in her gut. Alonso looks like he might laugh, as he reaches for his drink; she catches his wrist and lets her nails sink in, just enough for emphasis. George is only inches away; she should be more concerned about appearances. But she can’t let this one go easy, slide off her skin like she’s varnished.

“I could,” she says, steady and low. “I will, when I know how.”

“What’s all this then?” George’s stranger vowels come out when he drinks, his accent thicker than hers. He twists round, squints at them. His buttons are mismatched; Carmen can see one brown nipple through the bulge of fabric.

Alonso gives him a shark’s smile, but his answer’s all for Carmen. Still Spanish. “I could teach you.”

“Are you flirting with my girlfriend, Fernando?” George is sloppy-drunk, heavy with emphasis and innuendo as he sways in his seat. Carmen knows better than to let it embarrass her. He doesn’t like it, in company. No, it’s better to tell him the morning after how messy he got; watch him at the breakfast bar twitching in his boxers at each mild word until he slinks between her legs to apologise, spells out his sorries with his tongue. 

“Learn Spanish and you’ll find out, George.” Alonso leans past her to pinch George’s chin between his finger and thumb. His other hand lands on her upper thigh, hidden under the shadow of his torso. 

His fingernails score a line down her gossamer-thin tights, just at the hem of her dress. Not a hole, not quite a run, but a snag against the soft skin there that lingers when he leans back, lets his hand run down to her knee and stay there, grip steady and sure. “But,” he adds, back to Spanish, and Carmen feels her gut clench before he even gets the words out, “I do not have to flirt. She is already wet in her lucky red panties, mm?”

He’s right. 

George laughs, too relaxed to be uncomfortable. “A fair cop, I’m trying.” He’s not. It’s a small thoughtlessness she can forgive, when he’s so willing to apologise. “But what were you talking about?”

“New Year’s traditions in Spain,” she offers, smile fixed.

“And making new ones,” Alonso adds.

It only takes a few seconds after that. George’s hand lands on her knee, the curve of his palm fitted to her kneecap before he slides up, the way he always does, so his fingertips will graze the ticklish spot on the underside and make her squirm into him. The instant his knuckles knock against Alonso’s he freezes, and Carmen has one of those swooping moments when she remembers all the drivers live or die in microseconds; an entire conversation happens in front of her in miniscule expressions, the smallest grunts and hums, before she even has time to open her mouth.

George squeezes, and her knees fall open, and two sets of fingers drag rucks in her tights up and up and up.

And at midnight, when she crams George’s face between her hands and lets him hoist her off the ground for a kiss far too spit-sloppy for Instagram, it’s Fernando’s hand on her hip that steadies her, his stubble that grazes against the bare skin of her shoulder, and his address that they give to the driver that whisks them away from air soaked with whisky, sweat and the drifting smoke of fireworks. 

-----

Sobriety hits with the pound of black silicone Fernando presses into her hand. 

He has three of them, three strap-ons, lined up in a drawer on top of cream satin sheets. If George were two or three drinks more either way, sober enough for sarcasm or drunk enough to let his tongue slip, he’d probably call it a bit much. Instead, Carmen just hears him swallow where he’s tucked up behind her, chin pressed against her scalp.

Fernando drums his finger against the blue one, still nestled in the drawer. “This is what you should get for him, yes? Start small.” He wags his finger at the red monster. “Not for beginners. Work up to this.”

“Crikey,” George mutters. Carmen bites her tongue. It’s not that much larger than he is, but she supposes no one’s ever invited him to sit on his own dick. 

There’s probably a service for that, though. Custom-made. The kind of narcissism that would make him spasm. At some point he’d spill the beans to a friend, let them tease him mercilessly, come home humiliated and hard and desperate. She could-

Carmen forces herself to breathe slower, uncurls her fingers from the dildo. She’s getting ahead of herself. She can’t even be sure he’ll like it. That she’ll be good at it. 

“Shouldn’t I have the blue then?”

“Oh, but little George wants that to be private, no? He is not getting involved.”

Ah. This is what George gets for laughing at her, at them, in the cab. For coming over all British, spine stiff and blinking slowly, mechanically, as Fernando and Carmen had to search for the word for it, a stream of rapid Spanish and halting English. 

“Wait, so-”

Fernando is getting impatient. “You think I am going to teach you by fucking you in the arse? Any man could fuck you in the arse, you will not learn shit that way. You will fuck me and I will coach, hm? And little George can find out if he likes it from the corner.”

There’s a chair there, in Fernando’s spare room. An armchair, tight and cushy. He might as well have embroidered CUCK on the throw pillow. Still, it’s better than the dining chair they’d had to drag in from the kitchen the last time Daniel had stopped by. George had kept slipping off whenever his hips jumped. 

“I am going to get the good lubricant,” Fernando announces, “And then I will get you ready. Don’t get naked, I want to see those panties.”

George makes a choking noise behind her; when Carmen turns to face him, the dildo in her hand nudges him in the side, where his waist yields. He shivers at the touch of her and Carmen has to smooth a palm up his front, round his neck, and tug his forehead down to touch hers. With his ludicrous torso bent to hers, it makes a private space for them, a familiar room. 

“We don’t-” she starts, but he’s already shaking his head, tiny twists that rock his skin against hers. His eyes are shut and she can’t tell if he’s avoiding her face or picturing it, picturing her, harness and all. “Or-” 

He kisses her, pushy with it, feeding his tongue into her mouth like that’ll work better than saying what he wants out loud. His clever fingers find the zip on the side of her dress, the button at the halter; he has it sliding down her legs before he breaks off, spins her around and steps back. She’s left in her underwear and heels, standing in the circle of her crumpled LBD. When she looks back over her shoulder, he’s retreated to the chair, folds himself into it, knees crammed together. But he’s watching her, blue eyes wide and open and determined, like he’s staring through a visor. 

Fernando’s in the doorway, shirt unbuttoned, a lube bottle the length of her forearm in his hands. His grin widens. “Lucky, lucky girl. Time to strap in.”

When he drags her pants down, he holds them to his mouth and nose for three long inhales before he chucks them across to George. He lays them over his knee, neat and flat, like she might want them later, even though the gusset’s soaked a deep maroon. His thumb strokes over the damp patch, though, and her cunt pulses. Fernando must hear the wet sound of it as he buckles on the harness; he licks a stripe up to her clit before he sorts the other leg, hides her away. He smacks his lips around the taste of her; she clenches so hard her arse twitches under his hands. 

When she steps out her heels, the dildo bobs between her legs, thick and heavy. Her balance is off, ever so slightly. Fernando runs a proprietary hand over the head, down the shaft - no lube, so the skin of his fingers catches and drags with the friction. Carmen feels drunk again, watching herself be touched and not touched. 

Fernando’s face is all mouth now, wide enough to swallow her. When he kisses her, one hand on her bum and one, immediately, on her tit, she tries to give as good as she gets. But a tug on his hair earns her a warning swat to the arse. “Ah ah. You are still learning, yes? I am the teacher. Be a good girl.”

It’s not really her thing, good girl, but she hears George inhale behind her, and that- the reminder of her audience, that’s enough to send a pulse of heat to her knees. Her hips twitch. The black dildo rubs against Fernando’s stomach. When he pulls back far enough for her to see him clearly, he’s all grin and teeth.

He strips quickly. Not the foreplay type, evidently. On the bed, he cracks the top of the lube open at once, slathers his fingers, and gets on all his knees to open himself up. Carmen bites back a comment on his flexibility. 

“Pay attention, yes? If you have not-” She scoffs, and he stops. “Oh, yourself, of course. But it is different for a man. I would have you do it, but your nails, ridiculous. Cut them and get fake ones. There are no uses for those.”

She scrapes the line of them down Fernando’s back, over the ridiculous tattoo, and he pauses. Inclines his head in acknowledgement. “Some uses.”

If watching Fernando finger himself open is supposed to be educational, it’s something of a failure. Barely a minute in, and she can tell he’s chasing pleasure, stretching fast and hissing round the burn. He’s not careful about it, not gentle; George would go quiet if she went this fast, and bear it, and pretend it was his fault he was soft and damp-eyed. 

She can’t deny it’s hot, though. The way the eagerness sneaks out of Fernando; all that cleverness dropping off his face when he gets the angle right and just has to feel it, even if he’s smug about it a fraction of a second later. It builds inside her, the want to do it, make him slack and stupid with her-

With her cock. 

George is watching too. Rapt. When she turns to look at him, her hair a whisper over her shoulder, he drags his gaze away from Nando’s hole, and she gets to watch how his gaze stutters on the leather straps, the hulk of the dick between her legs. She cups it and he swallows. He’s pulled his shirt out of his trousers, but the drape of it can’t hide how hard he’s got in his slacks. 

She feels hard too. Her clit is throbbing where the harness, slightly too tight, pulls it against her body.

“Pay attention,” Fernando chides again and, fuck, he’s up to three. He draws his fingers out with a flourish, wipes them on the sheets as he shifts to all fours. Carmen avoids the spot when she repositions her knees and reaches for the lube. It glides on differently across the toy, everything cold except her palm. 

She takes a moment to catalogue the differences between Fernando and George. The corded rise and fall of older muscle. The force of him, compact as a spring. On all fours, Fernando keeps his head up; it makes her think of a jungle cat on the hunt.

When she nudges the flared head against the furl of his hole, it slips around, up; there’s very little slack in the harness, but enough to remind her the dildo’s not rooted to her. She has to work for the angle, grip it with a fist to hold it against herself and find the tension, the shift, that turns a press into a push.  

The tattoo on Fernando’s back ripples. “Not too slow,” he coaches. He’s dropped back into Spanish; George whines, but it’s the good sort, high and needy like a purse dog. Carmen answers in kind; only slightly plays up the innocence, her Sunday school accent. 

“Like this?” There’s a trick to it, getting her hips aligned behind and below where the base presses hard into her flesh and bone, so she can keep the movement smooth, firm. She curls one hand over Fernando’s hip, lets her nails bite a little, and he likes it just as much as he did the first time, a little grunt falling out of his mouth before he can catch it, turn it patronising and sly. She lets her other hand wander up his back, the spectacle of him stretched out like a map on a table for her. 

“Down, more. Your aim is off.”

His voice hitches, though, when she moves. It’s starting to feel like hers again, her cock, in him; she draws it back until just the tip is left inside, admires the gleaming wet length of it before she drives back in, and George whimpers. There’s an ache, an emptiness, building between her legs, where the straps of the harness press against the lips of her pussy hard enough that she can feel how swollen and wet she’s getting, but not enough to satisfy. Not enough to feel. 

She wishes she could have Fernando on his back, so she could lean down and shove her tits in his mouth. Or that he’d let George play, so she could tell him to put his talented fingers on her stomach, trace teasing paths around her navel until she was ready to come from a flick of her clit. 

But it’s all on her. She’s in control.

Going faster doesn’t help, but once she starts she can’t stop. Not when Fernando starts panting, and his little coaching comments fall away into groans. One fist comes up to grip the headboard, then the other, until he’s pushing himself back against her, onto his knees, rising and falling with her hips.  

“Is it good?” she asks him, only slightly smug. In Spanish, of course. 

“Hah. The girl has teeth,” he answers her. “Your pretty girlfriend is very good, George,” he adds. English again. “I think maybe I should steal her, except,” and he laughs, the fucker, he laughs as Carmen’s hips stutter, and George moans, high and needy “-except I think you will like it even more, yes? When she fucks you. You will need it all the time-” Her knee slips, just an inch, but it makes a shallow thrust deep and he hisses in pleasure around it and still, unbelievably, keeps talking. “You will need it even before races, and you will be driving and feeling where she has fucked you. Drive slow to keep it going. Hit every kerb to feel it. And that will be better for me, I think.”

“Carmen,” George gasps, and she can hear how desperate he sounds, keeps her eyes on Fernando and the slide of her dick through sheer force of will alone, “Carmen, will you? Please? Will you fuck-”

“Yes,” and she can see it, wants it, her ribs white hot inside her chest, “yes, yes, yes I will.”

Fernando has his head flung back now, panting against her neck. The whole line of him is tensed, muscles straining. Each roll of her hips rattles the headboard. 

“What do good girls say to the men who teach them, eh?”

But she’s too dizzy to think, to grasp what cheap porn-brained trick Fernando wants from her. Her thighs are burning, her hips moving so fluidly, instinctively, sweat streaming down her back, down the line of her spine, gathering thick and wet above her arse. She’s so hot. She’s so turned on. But there’s maddeningly little pressure on her clit; her cunt keeps clenching on nothing. She’d rip the room apart with her teeth for a bullet vibe right now, for George to slide it gently across her tits and down her stomach and then hard where she’s wet and hot and achy and-

“What do good girls say, eh?” Fernando growls, and she shakes her head, can’t think, can’t speak, only aware that she’s grinding into the spot that makes him bite, mindless, and-

“Papi.” George sounds wrecked, hoarse. “He wants you to call him papi.”

Of all the words he could know. It doesn’t do anything for her. Quite the opposite. And she’s ready to tell him as much, but: “No, no, no, little George,” Fernando is saying. “You’ll do.” Carmen can feel his grin against the side of her cheek. “You have a girl’s mouth, mm? Use it.”

There’s a thump. Plastered against Fernando’s back, Carmen can only twist her head to watch as George falls out of the chair to his knees - his bare knees, trousers and shoes and socks and boxers abandoned, the two sides of his white shirt framing the lurid red of his cock where it curves back towards the dramatic lines of his stomach. He walks on his knees to the bed; Carmen thinks Fernando would’ve preferred him to crawl.

She might have preferred that too. 

It doesn’t matter though, because when she lets go of Fernando’s hips with one hand, steady enough in her stance now to risk it, and reaches for his face, he presses it into her palm and sucks her thumb into the heat of his mouth like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

She doesn’t realise she’s stopped moving, dumbstruck, until Fernando starts shimmying against her. His own cock looks livid where the purpling head emerges from the thick grip of his fist. “Move, or share,” he grunts. 

“Up you get, George,” she tells him. Her thumb is drenched shiny when he releases it, clambers onto the bed between Fernando and the headboard. He’s lucky it’s wider than it is long, and even so his feet hang off the edge as he curls himself into the space that’s left for him. 

One of Fernando’s hands drops down, out of her sight. She has to crane her chin over his shoulder, push the whole sweat-soaked length of her torso even closer against his back, to see. Fernando’s got George’s chin in his finger and thumb again, but this time George’s mouth is dropped open, tongue lax against his bottom teeth.

“Papi,” he says. Carmen shivers. Nando twitches. “Papi.”

And then George is taking Fernando’s cock in his mouth, his hands fisted by his sides and his own dickdrooling on his stomach and the damp tails of his shirt. Carmen grinds into Fernando almost without thinking; his hips shift away from her and back, chasing pleasure in both directions, and the jarring, awkward rhythm of it is somehow closer to making her come than everything before it.

The rhythm, and the naked, desperate want on George’s face as he sucks, eyes locked on her.

Fernando, unfortunately, is driving for a different laptime. He gives no warning before he grabs behind him for Carmen’s hip, grinds backwards for three fervid seconds and comes with a roar, straight into George’s mouth.

When he pats George’s bulging cheek, cum spills out down his chin and throat. A cry rips out of Carmen without her say so. 

He lifts himself off Carmen’s dick and falls sideways, to the empty side of the bed, with the self-satisfied grace of a big cat, seemingly unaware the rest of the party haven’t finished yet. Carmen gapes at him, and he lifts an eyebrow. “I figured you two knew how this bit went, mm?”

Her hand drops, automatically, to her clit – and hits the dildo, still there. The harness gets in the way, dulls the sensation, even if George is gulping as he watches her, trying to get his legs underneath him to move. It makes her feel like a fumbling teenager, abruptly unfamiliar with her own body, even as she can feel her orgasm getting closer, almost there, almost enough-

Fernando, indulgently, leans over to unfasten the left hand buckles. He gestures like he’d do the other side, but it’s enough for Carmen. She tugs the panel covering her cunt to the side, lets the dildo press into her stomach as George slides over her, around her, panting and mewling and as needy as she feels. 

Then George is sinking into her, thick and deep and everything her cunt’s been crying out for. He doesn’t even have the coordination to kiss her, his mouth wet at her temple, her cheek, her jaw, but it doesn’t matter because she’s coming, naked and soaking and clinging to him like armour. One shaking thrust, two, and he’s coming too, shivering through it, but loud, all his deliberation peeled away for a series of “fuck”s that have Fernando snorting from his side of the bed. 

George collapses on top of her, but not inconsiderately. She likes it, after, the press, squeezing the last lingering shocks from her body as her mind slowly ebbs back from the edges of the room. When she has the wherewithal, she strokes down his back, fingers dipping into the gully where his shoulder muscles bulge either side of his spine. He takes a while to soften inside her. 

Fernando yawns. “I will call you a car.”

“After we shower,” Carmen says, sharply. 

George snorts half a laugh. “The romance is dead. Happy New Year, mate.” He rolls off the bed fluidly, suddenly back to the man everyone else sees, as awkward as he is charming, but all that wicked need hidden away. 

Carmen’s still on the bed, waiting for her knees to solidify, when the shower starts running. Fernando clucks his tongue, and she rolls her eyes. As soon as she stands, the harness drops away to the floor with a jangle. She has to keep her thighs together as she makes her way to the ensuite; George’s cum starts leaking out of her well before she reaches the loo. 

Under the water, George kisses her with his eyes open, his thumb tracing between two of her ribs. 

George takes longer than her to wash; to be fair, there is a lot more of him. She ends up at the doorway to the bedroom again, wrapped in one of Fernando’s towels.

His eyes are closed, but his brow is furrowed. When she clears her throat, his face goes blank.

She has a thought. 

“Help me on with these?” she asks, nudging her clothes with her toes. 

Fernando goes to his knees to help her step into her dress and tugs it up into place. His fingers are quick and clever on the zip. He goes back down to help her step into her shoes, steady and firm when she puts a hand on his shoulder for balance.

“Good boy,” she says quietly, in Spanish. The shiver is almost imperceptible. 

“Er, Carmen?” George, clean and dressed, is holding up her red panties from where he neatly stowed them with his own clothes. “Missing something?”

When he chucks them over, she snatches them out of the air and pushes them into Fernando’s open hand. “Keep them,” she smiles. “For good luck. And as a thank you.”

Fernando sees them to the door, still not a stitch on him. One palm on George’s shoulder, the other at the small of her back. He’s smiling. 

“Thank you,” she says again. He’s one of the shortest drivers on the grid, but Carmen still has to reach up to press her lips to his cheek. 

It’s soft, past the stubble.