#richarlison andrade

[dommiefinch]

Spurs 🔗 WWE

[nymrs]

could you write a smut about one night stand or fwb with richarlison?

#1. IMPATIENT | Richarlison

Summary: friends with benefits

Genre: smut

Pairings: Richarlison x female reader

"Thank you so much for coming with me Rich", you tried to hide your downcast expression with a gratifying smile. Richarlison gnawed on his bottom lip as he deeply looked into your eyes, it was like he could see right through you. "No problem, boo. It would be depressing being the only single here", he scrunched his face up, softly poking your nose tip with his index finger.

Your best friend just got married. The whole squad was taken or even engaged, so you felt a little embarrassed attending the wedding alone. Luckily, Richarlison, who you’ve ironically met on another friends wedding, offered to go with you to make it a bit less awkward for you.

Being on that wedding, the pair of you couldn’t help but remember the first time you’ve met. The way you’ve had eye contact all evening, until he finally asked you for a dance. A dance that was such a catastrophe due to the amount of alcohol you two drank that night. Still, you had a good time foolishly moving around, getting lost in each others eyes every now and then. Though you weren’t the person for a simple hookup, you couldn’t resist his charm and ended up in his bed this night. What you thought would be your first - and last - one night stand, turned out to be a friendship of three years now. Admittedly, you’ve repeated that 'one night stand' one too many times, making him the only man you had such an intimidate relationship with since the two of you met.

Some drinks later, you couldn’t wait to get home as Richarlison kept on sliding his large hands up and down your thighs under the table. His simple touch sent goosebumps all over your body. "Would it be appropriate for us to leave now?", he whispered into your ear, making you tilt your head at the tingling sensation of his breath on your neck. "Yes", you decided and quickly stood up from your seat. Grabbing his hand, you dragged him to the just married couple, congratulating them once more. "Tomorrow's going to be such an exhausting day, I really do need some rest", you explained yourself after telling them you and Richarlison are already leaving. Your best friends eyes wandered back and forth between the two of you, knowing exactly what was going on. "I know, it’s alright. Don’t go too hard on yourself, yeah?", she tried to hide her smirk. You hugged her goodbye and rushed out of the hall, jumping into the car and getting home the fastest you could.

Unlocking his entrance door, Richarlison couldn’t stop but chuckle at your needy behaviour, while you impatiently waited for him to finally get you inside. "Fucking get in there already", you mumbled in a low tone, still loud enough for him to hear. "Into the house or into you?", he raised one eyebrow looking down at you, a cheeky smile forming in his face. You returned his gaze, then slightly pushed him forward when you heard the door clicking open. Not even giving him the time to get off his shoes and jacket, you smashed your lips onto his. As you quietly moaned against each others lips, you pulled of his jacket and tossed it on the floor while his hands found their way down your body, kneading your butt and giving it some squeezes. Wrapping one leg around his waist in order to pull him closer, you were able to feel his huge bulge. "So hard… already", you muttered, making Richarlison distancing himself from your lips. "Are you trying to tell me that you’re not that wet?", he menacingly asked. His hand lightly stroke over your sweet spot through the fabrics, before he pulled your panties aside and thrusted two of his fingers inside without a warning, causing you to moan out loudly. "Fuck you’re dripping wet. No wonder you couldn’t even wait for us to get into the bedroom", he stammered out as you threw your head back in pleasure. He enjoyed the view of you melting into his hands, hearing you moan out his name as his long fingers curled inside of you. You let out a whimper of desperation when he took his fingers out, only to see him changing positions and now pushing you against the wall. He lifted up your dress, revealing your ass and throbbing pussy to him as you bent over just a little. You felt his length teasing your entrance, slowly sliding up and down, before he pushed his shaft inside. Your moans got louder as he went deeper with every thrust. "You’re so tight Y/N, God", he managed to say through gritted teeth the moment he started pulling on your hair. The hall was filled with echoes of your moans mixed with chants of his name and the noise of his balls clapping against you. "Faster, faster", you cried out as your legs trembled in pleasure. He wrapped his free hand around your throat, making you let out just muffled noises as you gasped for air. "Fuck, you love my dick don’t you? No one fucks you the way I do huh?" His voice kept on getting deeper, meaning his high was just about to build up. "Tell me, who fucks you the best?", he demanded, you shortly flinched when he slapped your butt cheek, leaving a red mark. "You Rich, only you", you responded in between the groans. You cried out his name a few times ago, and that was when you finally felt him twitch inside of you. He quickly pulled out of you and pushed you onto your knees as he kept on stroking on his cock. You licked on his tip, bobbing your head back and forth in a slow pace as you took him fully in. Richarlisons eyes rolled back, whimpering at the sensation he felt. You continued to gag on his dick when you suddenly felt shots of his warm juice going down your throat. He held the back of your head, forcing you to take in his entire length as his legs got weak and he couldn’t help but moan out your name. When he was finished, you licked his dick clean, earning some light pats on your cheek. "You’re such a good girl for me."

[lory-stuff]

[mchlgayser]

𓂃⭑ᜊ early disclaimer: HELLO EVERYONE! I am the author and the user of @mchlgayser. I am seventeen and from Malaysia. English is not my mother tongue, you can expect grammatical errors or typographical errors in parts of my books. I am improvising my English skill so please bare with me. You can notify me or simply ignore it. Please do as you wish. I would not tolerate bullying behaviors on my accounts or you'll be flagged. No parts of my books may be rewritten, reshare, re-translated without my permission. I do not own any of the pictures or gifs. Credit to it's original artist.

My account is entirely sfw, I don't take requests containing any 18+ scenes. I don't usually do hcs but I do drabbles, one-shots, and series. Send me your ideas, storylines and I'll try my best to fulfill your wish. You can privately message me or anonymously asks.

fluff ( ✮ ) / angst ( ✸ ) / fluff + angst ( ☆ )

𓂃⭑ᜊ: MASTERLIST ft your author, nana

𓂃⭑ᜊ: JUDE BELLINGHAM

just the way you are ( ☆ )

flinch ( ☆ )

one happy day ( ✮ )

you're beautiful ( ☆ )

bad day ( ☆ )

realization ( ☆ )

she wasn't a boy?! ( ✮ )

new staff ( ✮ )

a beach date ( ✮ )

one normal day ( ✮ )

a special day ( ✮ )

cuddly ( ✮ )

𓂃⭑ᜊ: MASON MOUNT

jealousy ( ☆ )

jealousy, jealousy ( ☆ )

oh my god ( ✮ )

forever gone ( ✸ )

her ( ☆ )

his sweet girls ( ✮ )

𓂃⭑ᜊ: NEYMAR JUNIOR

attention whore ( ☆ )

injuries ( ☆ )

a great start ( ✮ )

two worlds ( ✮ )

two worlds II ( ✮ )

two worlds III ( ✮ )

𓂃⭑ᜊ: RICHARLISON

the date ( ✮ )

my loves ( ✮ )

𓂃⭑ᜊ: ERLING HAALAND

nine months ( ✮ )

𓂃⭑ᜊ: PHIL FODEN

asking you out ( ✮ )

yours to cry on ( ☆ )

𓂃⭑ᜊ: MOHAMED SALAH

present time ( ☆ )

𓂃⭑ᜊ: JOBE BELLINGHAM

best friend ( ✮ )

hanging out ( ✮ )

apologizing ( ☆ )

art gallery ( ✮ )

one normal day ( ✮ )

the first meet ( ✮ )

just the two of us ( ✮ )

𓂃⭑ᜊ: TRENT ALEXANDER-ARNOLD

sass ( ✮ )

just a rebound ( ✸ )

𓂃⭑ᜊ: KYLIAN MBAPPE

bitch, bitch! ( ✮ )

all rights reserved goes to @mchlgayser on Tumblr.

[kylianmbappee]

[hypnotiiize]

𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

   𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘦’𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘺

𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: i got this idea at the literal last minute so i wrote this in a day which is literally unprecedented for me so YOU RLLY JUST GOTTA DEAL W ME IM SAWRY 

     He’d been standing in the aisle for fifteen full minutes before he finally huffed and widened his arms, sweeping up as many gifts as he could manage. 

He peered over the mountain of presents with one keen eye, struggling his way over to the cashier. The seventeen-year-old there just blinked at him warily, too tired from figuring out Calculus to be amused by him. He bent at his waist, his lips pressed into a line as he carefully laid everything on the black conveyer belt. 

The seventeen-year-old’s eyes darted from the man to everything he’d laid out, her lips a little turned up as she asked dryly, “Is that all?” 

Richarlison hadn’t heard the bite in her tone, too busy questioning if he’d gotten enough to make the woman on his mind happy. “Yes!” 

“Great.” She grabbed a heart-shaped box and pushed it past the scanner.

Richarlison only processed her words just as she’d scanned the very first teddy bear. “Do you think it’s enough?” he asked unsurely, positive that the teenage girl would know more about love and gift-giving than him. 

The girl, Kayla by the looks of her nametag, scoffed in return.

Richarlison’s eyes widened as he assumed the worst. A scoff could mean nothing good. “No?” 

“I mean,” the girl backtracked at the dread in his voice. She shrugged. “It depends on how many girlfriends you have. If you have about six, you should be fine,” she quipped, shaking her head at the Ain’t Shit nature of even the most handsome, tall, and brooding of men. 

Richarlison shook his head cluelessly. “But… I don’t have a girlfriend.” Did he have to have a girlfriend? 

Kayla’s hands paused on a stuffed turtle. “You don’t? Then why are you getting all this stuff? Not that it’s my business, I’m just really nosy,” she added sincerely, glancing to him as she scanned the special edition Twizzlers. 

He had to fight to catch his breath at the thought of his valentine. “It’s for my,” he paused for five long seconds, contemplating his relationship (or lack thereof) with the woman of his dreams. The balls of his cheeks were pink when he finally said, “Friend.”

“Yeah, it’s for your… friend,” replied the seventeen-year-old, making a show of hesitating just as long as he did. His bashful gaze fell on a stuffed elephant as he nodded. “Well, if it’s just for one friend, this is more than enough. It might even classify as wealth hoarding if you get anything more.”

Whatever that meant. 

“I’m not sure what she would like,” he confessed in a murmur, gnawing on his lip.  

Kayla shrugged. “Just call her and ask.”

“I can’t do that!” he rasped quickly, a little shocked that she had even suggested such a thing. “I have to surprise her. She has to be surprised,” he whispered the second bit to himself, definitive in his conclusion. 

Kayla shrugged again. “Well, then, these are fine. She’s gotta like one of ‘em.”

“I hope so,” he breathed.

“I hope so, too, random man. I hope so, too.”

On his way home, as he juggled three large bags, he watched a man stop at a vendor on the sidewalk. The man, whose greyed tufts of hair protruded from underneath his Kangol hat, was beaming as he communicated with the seller. Richarlison watched as the man gently lifted a bouquet of carnations and then strolled away, stopping beside a woman before kissing her on the cheek and handing her the flowers. The woman gasped deeply with joy, and suddenly Richarlison was making a beeline toward that very vendor.

He was contemplating holding the bouquet of flowers in between his teeth when he spotted a baby in a store holding the gift– the very one that he knew he had to get for the woman. He had to walk through the front door sideways to fit, and still, he was not deterred; he navigated his way through the aisles easily, finding the present he knew was hers and even some that caught his eye. By the time Richarlison reached his home, his wallet had lost a considerable amount of weight and he was holding seven shopping bags. 

He was sure it was worth it. 

She found him on his street just as the sun began to set, handing out valentines to anyone that would walk his way. He smiled sweetly at her as she sauntered to his side, her own smile uncontrollable as she watched him hand a little girl a teddy bear.

“What, the whole neighborhood’s your valentine?” She laughed as she wrapped her arm around his torso in a hug. 

He reminded himself not to blush at the heat her presence generated in his chest, his heart dancing to her the familiar beat that her proximity brought on. “Well, some people don’t have valentines,” he said after a second, regarding the nature of the holiday. “So... I guess so!”

(Plus he had about two hundred dollars worth of merchandise that would’ve gone bad after sifting for the gifts he wanted to give her, but it would take him years to tell her just how much he’d splurged that day.)

She craned her neck to make eye contact with him, and he was sure his heart stopped right there. “You’re really sweet,” she praised quietly, just for him to hear. 

He was begging himself not to blush. “So are you.”

“Wait, speaking of sweet,” she began, moving away from him to open her purse. He mourned what was once her presence as she said, “I have a lil’ something for you.” 

He had a lot of something for her, but– and his inner voice stumbled over itself in his head at this– not in that way. Unless–? No, no, not in that way. 

“Don’t feel bad if you didn’t get me anything.” 

He got her Target’s whole catalog but he was currently giving it away. 

“Here.” 

She placed a white box in his hands and just before he opened it, Richarlison could only feel grateful for the text he’d gotten yesterday from one of his ever-prying teammates, asking who his Valentine was, as he may have forgotten altogether. 

He lifted the top and found himself staring at lightly-dusted squares of what he predicted was bread. She leaned closer to peer inside the box with him.

“They’re beignets. You ever had one?” she asked goodnaturedly. 

“No, I haven’t,” his voice threatened to crack with his reply as he became overwhelmed with the fact that she had thought of him– on a day like that, no less. He would wonder, later, what that could possibly mean, though at that moment he had to remain as stoic as possible lest he expose the fact that he was head over heels for her. 

He eyed the treat she’d given him, humming as he realized that they reminded him of something. “They’re like from that movie… Sapo, sapo,” he repeated softly under his breath, his mind racing to recall the word in English. 

Her grin broadened as her eyebrows raised. “Are you talking about The Princess and the Frog?”

“I think so.”

“Well, does it have a princess and a frog? A little green guy?”

“Yes!”

“That’s the one! Rich, I love that movie! What you know about that?!” 

“My sisters and cousins really liked it,” he explained.

“That’s what I was thinking of when I made you these,” she noted, laughing sweetly as she tapped on the top of the box with the pad of her finger.

His chest hurt from his heart beating so quickly. “You made these?” he asked after a moment, pausing to ensure that he had cleared the nerves from his voice.

“I made them,” she confirmed proudly.

He was having trouble catching his breath. “For me?”

“For you.” 

Don’t faint, don’t faint.

She pressed on upon the lack of response from Richarlison, gesturing wildly with her hands as she spoke, “I was kinda bored and I was like ‘hm, I wonder what Rich is doing’ and then I realized that it was about to be Valentine’s Day, so I was like let me be nice to him real quick and– oh my God?” 

Her confused words had been muttered against the fabric of Richarlison’s sweater after he’d wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest in a quick motion– way too quick for her to duck back, as he was sure she would. Richarlison was sure she could hear how fast his heart was pumping. He himself could hear his heartbeat reverberating in his head; he could feel it in his fingertips that clutched the white box she’d given him. 

“You crying?” she wondered, wrapping her hand around his muscle in an attempt to clear her airways. He was simply too big to hug her in that way, she was sure she’d almost suffocated.

“Shhh,” he countered, and she giggled against his bicep. “Thank you. That’s really nice.”

She sighed as if in awe of herself. “I know.”

The two stayed outside until the final chocolate box was handed out, and then five minutes more when a group of kids came by asking Richarlison if he could give them money for the store. This was not her first time watching him cough up money to kids as if they were bullies in the eighties, and she doubted it would be the last– Richarlison would give a kid the shirt off his back in zero-degree weather. The kids chorused pitchy goodbyes to the both of them before speeding off, leaving them to turn to each other and laugh a little at their eagerness. 

She did not say what she wanted to say: that he looked handsome and his generosity was giving her heart palpitations.

He did not say what he wanted to say: that she looked beautiful and he wanted to place his hands on either side of her face to pull her lips to his… And also that he was kind of sure he’d accidentally given one of those kids a fifty.

They stared at each other until their eyes began to sting. When they entered his home, just as sky morphed into a dark hue of blue, she found his couch covered in presents.

“There’s more?” she asked in shock. She moved toward the sofa and tilted her head at the sparkly gift bag smack dab on the middle cushion, reaching out to rub a gentle finger against the red glitter there. She glanced to Richarlison. “Is this one even yours, or is it your roommate’s?”

Richarlison had thought of how he would give the presents to her fleetingly throughout the day– he found, however, when faced with the woman of his dreams he couldn’t form any semblance of thought. He stood before her kind of stoically.

She scrunched her face up. “Wait, do you even have a valentine? I didn’t ask.” This was, of course, due to her apprehension regarding whatever his answer would be. She pressed her lips together as he teetered a little side to side.

“I don’t have a valentine,” he said a bit haltingly. “Do…” he gulped, “Do you?”

She blinked at him. “Do I have a valentine?” 

“Do you have a valentine?” he questioned simply, losing feeling in his fingertips from his nerves.

“No, I don’t think I technically do.”

He would ignore the ‘technically.’

“Because I,” he started shakily, crossing the room in two easy strides and stopping a few inches away before her. 

This was it, the moment he imagined: striding over to her in a silver suit, sitting on a stallion— her knight in shining armor— and romantically declaring that, that big, sparkly gift bag was hers. 

In real-time, he choked. “I, uh… Hey, this is yours,” he said, pointing to the present. 

He was shocked to find that she was still gasping deeply despite his lackluster approach. She appeared rocked by his words as if she had truly not been expecting him to think of her, her mouth agape and a hand over her heart. He was unsure how she could even think such a thing, as his every thought began and end with her. He could not fathom the fact that she did not know how important she was to him, and this, in turn, shocked him. 

“It’s mine? You got me something?” Her wide eyes searched his desperately, though she knew Richarlison would never play with her that way. 

His brown eyes fell to his shoes, confident that if he looked at her for a second longer he would turn beet red. He could already feel the tips of his ears scorching, begging him to press an ice pack against them. 

Her hand lifted up hesitantly before she laid her warm palm against his clavicle and he was sure he was knocking on heaven’s gates. She pressed there, turning him toward her as her left hand grabbed his right arm. She wrapped his arm low around her waist and pulled him against her, his heart mere inches from her own. 

She smelled like his childhood. She smelled like sweet treats and the Sun and water balloons. She smelled like everything he’d ever known, and he decided he would do everything in his power to keep her with him. 

“Thank you, Rich,” she whispered against the skin of his neck. “It means a lot.” 

His cheeks burned and he no longer cared to hide it. “It means a lot to me, too.” 

She snaked her fingers into the hairs at the nape of his neck and tightened her hold there gently, pulling away in the next moment to assess the gift bag. She sat to its right and he sat to its left, his lip caught between his teeth as he watched her peek inside. She closed two fingers around the tissue paper and delicately tugged it onto her lap. Richarlison promptly reached over and gathered the jumble of reds and pinks from her legs, placing it beside him on the couch just as she pulled out a bouquet of wine-colored roses. 

They were wrapped in white paper, a pink bow tied around them for good measure. There was a pang somewhere in her chest at the realization that they were placed in a heart, with the rose in the middle not even being a rose at all— instead, smack dab in the middle of the deep red bouquet, laid a jasmine flower the color of a pearl.

She recalled being in his room many times in passing, and each time her eyes would find the jasmines placed on his nightstand. She would chuckle each time she saw them, and he would give her the same excuse, “I think they’re pretty.”

“Oh my God,” she said before she could think, sweeping a finger along one of the petals of the white flower. 

“That one is from my room,” he told her, and then laughed. “I almost broke my vase.”

Her gaze snapped to the man on the couch, wide and amazed at something Richarlison was not too sure of. “You put this together yourself?” she asked. 

“Yes,” he answered easily, shrugging. He had not yet caught the glossy sheen zipping across her irises, too caught up in elaborating, “The roses were really beautiful, but they were missing something more. And I like jasmines. They’re pretty. I wanted to give you something really, really beautiful and pretty.”

(There was a flash in which she thought of that one Nicki Minaj verse, in which she rapped about putting something on a man’s sideburns.) 

 “Do you like it?” Richarlison asked, studying her pretty face to find her blinking hard to get something out of her eye— Richarlison guessed maybe a dust particle had gotten in. 

“I love it,” she mused.

His heart fluttered at her praise. “There’s more in the bag,” he said, taking the flowers from her so that her hands were free. 

She plucked the next gift from the bag: a huge heart-shaped box of chocolates. She laughed when Richarlison reached over her and grabbed a chocolate for himself the moment she pried it open, his sweet tooth notorious to the point that he had even ended up grabbing the box from her to keep eating as she craned her neck back to the bag. 

When the final gift was out, and she’d settled it on her lap, Richarlison watched as she cupped her hands over her mouth and chuckled loudly. He smiled, too, grateful that he had anticipated her reaction so accurately; he’d expected her awed laughter and had been looking forward to it ever since he’d bargained with a baby for it. 

Okay, so he bribed the baby.

Okay, so the baby got away with a hundred-dollar bill. 

Whatever.

“Stop,” she breathed, shaking her head with a grin. “Stop.”

She brushed a finger against the lines on the stuffed toy before her– yellow, black, yellow, black, yellow, black, until her finger landed on the smooth material of its pink heart-shaped wings. It was a bee holding a fluffy red heart between its tiny arms and grinning at her lopsidedly. Bee Mine! Read the toy, and she swore her temples were beginning to ache from how hard she was smiling. 

He’d been calling her Honey for weeks, having found himself enamored with the emoji she’d pressed into his phone the very first time they met. He parted his lips to say this to her, to tell her that the plush bee represented the nickname, though when she shoved the gift bag off the couch and crawled into his lap— wrapping her smooth arms around his neck in a tight embrace— he assumed that she’d probably made the connection herself. 

She pressed her lips against his cheek once and then twice before saying, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Rich,” and kissing him there a third time.

He was sure he’d been hallucinating, though the feel of her waist underneath his hands threw a wrench in that theory. Still, he felt nonplussed; there were many dreams of him in which they’d always end up in that same position, her poised in his lap with her arms around his neck. He had to blink a few times to snap back to reality. He was a little dazed as he tightened his fingers around her midriff, having to fight to catch his breath at the feeling of her ribcage constricting. She was real and alive and in his lap. He was tempted to FaceTime all of his friends and go on a long tangent. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he breathed. 

She did not wish to go home, and he did not wish to be apart from her. Thus, the answer was simple: the two ate beignets and watched The Princess and the Frog, her arms thrown across his torso in an effort to both fit on the couch. 

As the Voodoo Priestess on the screen sang about digging a little deeper, he laid his cheek against her slicked bun and smelled the sweet treats and the Sun and water balloon. He smelled everything he’d ever known, and then some. Richarlison’s gaze flitted from the screen to the woman tucked into his side, and for the first time in a very long time, he did not feel absolutely foreign in the country that was not his own. 

[jcons]

Richarlison icons :)) it you saved or used any, it would be nice to like the post:)

[wasabigibiyim]

aşık olduğum adamlar tam liste. (liste duruma göre çoğalabiliyor,her gördüğüm yakışıklı ve karizmatik adama aşık olma sorunum var lol)

[jcdr3swiftie]

[i-care-4u]

[ ✹ ] RICHARLISON HEADCANONS

PAIR: RICHARLISON X READER

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED | MASTERLIST

DATING RICHARLISON INCLUDES…

you’re very supportive throughout his football career

he is your biggest fan in anything you do

wearing his jerseys

“is that my jersey you’re wearing?”

he then buys you a jersey so you and him could match at the games

secretly, he admires seeing you wearing his clothes, whether that be his jersey or jackets

matching tattoos

after getting matching tattoos, richarlison thought of getting a tattoo relating to you

“you’re getting a tattoo dedicated to me?”

richarlison nods, and you warned him, “just don’t tattoo my face on your back”

richarlison ended up getting a tattoo with your name or your initials

him blasting dança do pombo from the living room

sometimes you’ll take a nap until you hear the purr noises from the song

“prrr…prrr…prrr…prrr…”

“richarlison, are you dancing again?”

“come down so i can teach you.”

he teaches you the pombo dance afterwards

because of that, you started giving him the nickname, pombo [pigeon]

on the field, he dedicates his goals for you

he points at you and mouths, “this is for you.”

yes, the bicycle kick goal was dedicated to you too

in his spare time, he likes making tiktoks

“amor, look what i made!” richarlison shows you a silly edit he made on tiktok

he uses those capcut templates to do them

“i can tell it took so long to make that!” you sarcastically told him

going on walks with him and his dogs

taking you out on picnics

his love language is gift gifting

on the third date, richarlison brought an extraordinary gift for you, larger than the usual

unlike the previous gifts, richarlison took you to his home to reveal a big teddy bear plushie

hair cut? you can always count on him

although not all the time

“just to get this straight, do you want it shaven or r9 style?”

“how about i go to a real hairstylist instead?”

he loves to make you laugh

friendly, yet a goofy person to be around

you are very grateful to have him in your life as your boyfriend

[holygrailimagines]

Tall

Summary: Richarlison x Reader, size kink SMUT!

Richarlison loved being taller than you. To him, you were delicate and fragile. He felt like your knight in shining armor, protecting you from all the bad things in the world. He would always be holding you, whether his strong arms were wrapped around your waist or his fingers interlaced with yours. Even if you had a closet full of sweaters and jackets, Rich would always insist you wear his. Firstly because they would make you warmer and secondly because he loved the way his clothes made you look even smaller. 

Ninety percent of the time, he was always gentle and soft with you. You loved how careful he was with you but sometimes you preferred the other ten percent. 

You knew there was a different side to his love for your size difference, noticing how he always took you in front of the large mirror placed strategically in front of the bed. You would be on your knees with your cheek pressed against the sheets, Richarlison ramming into you from behind. His eyes would never leave the mirror, watching his large frame destroying your small one. One hand would grasp your forearms behind your back and the other would grip the back of your neck. Your body would jolt forward with each harsh thrust, you were completely under his control. His large cock mercilessly fucking into your tight, little cunt. He was so big you swore you could feel him in your stomach. 

“You look so hot taking my cock like this,” he would praise you, grunting as he continued slamming into you. You couldn’t even respond, drool dripping from your lips and soaking the sheets. You arched your back, giving Rich more access to your aching pussy. He would grip your hair, pulling you up against his bare chest. Even like this, his body still dominated yours. Your ass cheeks clapped against the base of his cock, your cunt clenching tightly around his length. You were so weak, eyes closed and body numb.

“Look at how small you look,” He would whisper in your ear, his eyes staring at the reflection. You used every bit of strength left inside you and opened your eyes. Your tits were bouncing, ribs poking out from your arched back. Rich was behind you, almost looking like a giant compared to you. Rich’s teeth were clenched and he was sweating heavily from thrusting so brutally. With his free hand, he grabbed yours and rested it on top of your navel. 

“Feel that?” He asks huskily and you certainly did. Each time his cock slammed into you, you felt the slightest bulge. You nodded your head, strings of moans leaving your mouth. He released his grip from your hair and you landed face first on the mattress. His hands planted on your hips, drilling into you faster than before. He grunted, watching through the mirror as you lost complete control of your body. The pleasure of his cock slamming into your sore pussy was almost too much. Your body became overwhelmed, your cunt subconsciously clenching tighter and tighter. His thrusts became messier and sloppier, before finally spilling himself inside you with an animalistic grunt. His warm seed triggered your release, your legs quivering in a euphoric state. You whimpered as he pulled out, the both of you collapsing onto the mattress. 

You shivered, the coldness of the room finally hitting your bare body.  

“You want my hoodie?” he asked.  

[dommiefinch]

All credit goes to @samliamcornish on Twitter/Instagram

[nymrs]

hii🩷can you write a fluff imagine about dad!richarlison?

tysm and i love youu

-Pink anon🩷

#2. SAFE AND SOUND | Richarlison

Summary: Richarlison comforting (better said trying to comfort) your daughter after she had a nightmare.

Genre: fluff

You were woken up by soft whispers, recognising the voices of your husband and daughter, Lucia. Raindrops rolled down the window plane, thunder echoed through the room. Enough reason for Lucia to disturb her parents sleep. She was scared of thunderstorms, especially at night. Thunderstorms caused her to have bad dreams. You assumed it was just another nightmare, one of those she would usually have on such nights, and decided to finally let Richarlison take care of her once since it normally came down to be your job. Keeping your eyes closed and pretending to still be asleep, you listened to how your husband tried to comfort your daughter.

"So what was your dream about?", Richarlison murmured in order to not wake you up. Lucia hesitated a short moment, not wanting to remember what got her so upset, "There was this… weird, ugly man running after me. I tried to get away from him but he was too fast. Even faster than you on the field papai!" Richarlison expressed his 'shock' by a deep gasp, "Faster than daddy? Impossible!"

"Really papai! He was so fast", Lucia insisted. He shook his head in disbelief. "If you say so Lu. Did that ugly man do anything or was he only chasing you?" "He ran after me. I was so scared but he got closer and I couldn’t move. Then he… he said… mamãe and papai will die." Her sweet voice at the end broke as she was about to tear up again. God, pretending to be asleep has never been that hard for you. It was the first time she dreamt such a thing and all you wanted to do was hug her tight and tell her everything would be alright - unlike your husband. He sighed out before he responded. "Well, Lu… you should know. Everyone is gonna die someday. That’s the cycle of life." You shot your eyes open and widened them in negative surprise to his answer, quietly slapping his head which went unnoticed by your daughter. He gave you a confused look. "We too?", Lucia asked in a tone that showed you terrified she was. Silently, you mouthed a thousands of no's, earning more irritated gazes from your husband. "No Lucia, we won’t die", he quickly replied. "But why? You said everyone." Richarlison got overwhelmed by his daughters question, not knowing how to keep the conversation going as child-friendly as possible, and started to stutter. "Because… uhm, uh… Lucia, you know papai is a superhero. Superheroes don’t die." She let out a deep breath of relief. "And what about mommy and me?" You saw Richarlison getting nervous as he tried to think of another response. "Mommy is a superheroes wife and you’re my daughter", he said, softly patting her head and fiddling his fingers into her hair, "Don’t worry meu anjo. You'll have a loooong, long wonderful life. Mommy and daddy will always be there for you. Always." He pecked her forehead as his large hand softly went up and down her tiny back. With a calm grin on her face, her breath got steady and you could tell she was falling into sleep. "Cycle of life, huh?", you mocked your husband.

"I just don’t feel good lying to our daughter Y/N", Richarlison explained himself. "But she just turned four Richy, four! She doesn’t need to know about the cycle of life yet", you giggled out, "Next time she’s crawling into our bed because she had a bad dream, wake me up and let me take care of her, superhero."

[lewisvinga]

my favorite thing about you | richarlison x fem! reader

requested; yes!

request: hi hi! could u do richarlison w/ a short gf (like short short, im 4ft 11in/150cm lmaoo)

warnings; short reader, obviii

note; pombo

masterlist !

Richarlison loved everything about you. Your smile, your laugh, your personality. He loved all of your habits. But most of all, he can’t help but love the fact you’re so small compared to him.

You were small in general. Your short height made anyone look like a giant when standing next to you. But Richarlison was already tall compared to many, so next to you he was huge.

He always felt like he had to protect you in some way. You were easy to lose in crowds. Sometimes he has to hold onto you tightly so he won’t lose you in crowds. He loves the feeling of being the protective one in your relationship.

Richarlison loves whenever you ask him for help. Wether it’s reaching for something on the highest shelf or picking something heavy up, he’s always glad to lend a hand.

But when you wear one of his t-shirts or sweaters that are way too long on you? He goes crazy. He’ll stare at you with major heart eyes and he won’t even try hiding it.

One late night, he was on the couch watching a movie and you joined him after doing your skincare and showering. You wore a sweater of his that looked like a dress on you. When you were walking towards him, he stares at you with wide eyes.

“What’s wrong?” You quietly ask him, sitting down next to him. You could see the pure joy in his eyes as he wrapped his arm around your waist.

Richarlison pulled you in close, keeping his arm secured around you. “Have I ever told you what’s my favorite thing about you.”

“Oh, never!” You reply sarcastically. He always told you that your short height is one of his favorite features of yours. “You’ve never told me before!”

He lets out a chuckle as you rested your head against his shoulder. “You just look cute, that’s all.” He mumbles. “It’s still my favorite thing about you.”

“I know, Richie, I know.”

[kylianmbappee]

Pov : you are dating Richarlison Andrade

Your gallery:

[hypnotiiize]

𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡

     𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵

𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: she’s Black of course! 

    The very first time he called her Honey in his sickly sweet, raspy tone, he’d been forcing a beanie over her head and grumbling about the weather. 

     “Honey,” he’d said without thought, his fingers laced into the braids at the nape of her neck as he struggled to pull the hat down. “It’s cold! Just put on the hat! Please!”

     “Man– Ri– Rich– Man!” She turned her head every which way, fighting his hold. “No, man, it’s not that cold!” she said, tilting herself as far as she could to get away from the beanie. 

     He smacked his lips together at the puff of air drifting from her mouth as she lied to him– condensation from her breath hitting the positively freezing atmosphere. He pressed the back of his fingers against her cheek at once, his light eyes widening in panic at the freezing feel of her usual warm skin. 

     “You feel like ice,” he said. Then, when she began to protest once more (“Wait, Rich, but hear me out…”), he shook his head. “No, you’re going to get sick.”

     “Richarlison,” she groaned when he tugged the hat down her head, her shoulders slumped. “It’s gonna mess up my aesthetic.”

     His tongue stuck out in concentration as he worked to adjust the hat over her head, finding that each time he removed his hands to admire his work one of her eyes would wind up shrouded by the fabric. Finally, when he could clearly see the defeated look she was giving him, he brought his hands around and dragged down the back of the hat, fitting it perfectly over her head and ears. 

     “You happy with yourself?” she asked flatly as he began pulling her long braids forward. He delicately styled them over her shoulders, mindful of the curled hairs left out.  

     “Yes.”

     With his reply, said with a little smile, blew the wind, stronger than anything they had felt during their time together. He watched the woman’s shoulders tense before she could remind herself to remain stoic before him. Her face fell when his did; just as she knew she had been caught, he knew he had not fulfilled his self-appointed task.

     “Noooo,” she started, pointing her index finger at him and cautiously side-stepping backward. “No, I’m not cold. Don’t give me anything else. Don’t give me anything else. I’m not co—”

     He was wrapping a scarf around her neck. 

     “Ugh! Rich!” Her voice was muffled by the wool.

     He couldn’t believe he had to tell her, “You’re cold.” 

     She pulled the fabric off of her lips and therefore out of her mouth, spluttering against the pieces of scarf still stuck to her gloss. “But I’m trying to serve today!” 

     His eyebrows furrowed as he shook his head at her, a little lost. “Serve?” he asked.

     “Like, look good,” she explained, making direct eye contact so that he would not think to look down where her fingers were sneakily unraveling the scarf. When his russet eyes fell to her hands, she sucked her teeth and rued the day she decided to get a sparkly nail set for the winter season. 

     “You do look good,” he told her gently, taking the scarf from her and loopty-looping the material together. Then, when he was sure she was snug, he added, so quietly she would not have heard it if she’d still been grumbling, “But you always look very pretty. Even with a scarf and hat.” 

     This was, of course, his version of the whole truth and nothing but it. He found himself in awe of her every time she would turn to him. It was probably his third time that day wondering how she was so perfect– a dorky beanie and scarf had nothing on her. 

     Still, she’d scoffed and they had bickered some more. Though, in the end, he found that she was tugging the hat further over her hair as the wind whipped at them. For all of the attitude she’d claimed to have, for all of her grumbles and complaints about her ruined aesthetic, the fact was that she had been the one to place her hand in his as they walked. She was the one that pressed her body to his arm (granted, she was trying to get away from a man smoking a cigarette... He counted it as a win anyway when she didn’t remove herself once they could no longer smell the smoke). She even was the one that rested her head on his bicep when they found themselves at a crosswalk. 

     Richarlison could hear nothing but the sound of his own fast-beating heart at what felt like a new level of intimacy, and he almost couldn’t believe himself. He’d called her pretty about thirteen million times that day (he couldn’t stop the words from pouring out of his mouth when he would catch her being candidly stunning), but her putting her head on his shoulder was enough to make his palms get sweaty. Go figure. 

     The next time he called her Honey absentmindedly, as he was too caught up in walking alongside her to worry about her reaction, he noticed the girl smiling to herself. He was sure, then: he would never call her by her name again. He’d do anything to keep that smile on her face. 

     Honey. He had questioned, briefly, why the nickname felt so right for her. He had been calling her that in his head ever since the very first time they met. She would text him and he would be overcome with something like butterflies (though, perhaps the incessant fluttering of a bees’ wings was more accurate) at the sight of the honeypot accompanying her name on his lock screen. He was sure of his answer rather quickly.

     Honey, the woman he practically ate, slept, and dreamt about, was sweetness personified. His teeth almost began to ache just from the thought of her. His pupils would dilate, his breath would quicken – he would be overtaken by her. Then, suddenly, right when she would leave him, there would come the tiring crash of her exit from his system.

     For this reason, he dreaded the moment they would part. He dreaded the crash. He held her tighter as the clock ticked, promising to memorize the way her palms felt– how her fingerprints swirled, how the lines there told stories that he hoped would star the both of them. He decided he would call her Honey until he no longer could, until his voice gave out and his heart slowed to a stop. He decided he would love her sweetly. Boldly. Loudly. 

     Later, when he had called her Honey too many times to count and blushed with every brush of their fingers, she would ask him flat out, “Is there a reason you haven’t kissed me?” Then, when he would nervously stutter his way through an answer (“Um. D-did– Do– Wait, I’m sorry. You want me to–?”), she would place her hands on his jawline and gently press her lips to his. He would wrap his arms around her waist and pull her against him, unable to catch his breath but unwilling to part from her. Eventually, when the absence of her lips left him breathless, he would lick his teeth and taste the stomach-turning sweetness there. He would pull her in for another kiss, fearing the possibility of being apart from her; fearing the devastating crash. 

     But for now, he felt the heat rise on his cheeks as she rested her head on his arm at the crosswalk. His Honey. 

     The wind blew as they were signaled to walk, and she tensed against the piercing cold weather once more, too cold to cross. 

     Her face dropped when she realized he could feel her hand constrict his, and she knew the fate of her expensive nails being on display lied with him. 

     She groaned, having half the mind to stomp on the ground. “No! Richarlison! I’m not cold! Please, man!”

     In the next moment, she wore his gloves.