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@absurdthirst's Kinktober 2023 Prompts
Day 31: Free For All (I chose to interpret this as whatever I wanted to write, and so I chose innocence/corruption kink)
𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤
| PAIRING(s): Dave York x innocent!fem!reader
| RATING: explicit material | 18+
| WORD COUNT: 7.1k
| CONTENT: affectionate pervert catches feelings, dd/lg vibes sprinkled throughout, virginity loss, lots of firsts, inexperienced reader, religious trauma, feelings of shame/guilt/doubt, protective!Dave, he's still a smug asshole tho, soft dom daddy type shit, dacryphilia?, POV switching, sort of a loose time format in the progression of the story
| SYNOPSIS: Your sense of identity finally fractures. Dave is there to help you learn who you really are.
"𝙱𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚠,
𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚔
𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎; 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚔,
𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙱𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠.
— Alfred Tennyson
“What if you’re– what do you do if you think you might not be a good person? I mean– how do you know if you’re a good person?”
You’d asked him this almost four months ago now. Trembling hands. Teeth gnawing at your pouty lips. Downturned eyes misted with tears. The irony of you asking him of all people about what makes someone good or not wasn’t lost on him.
He wasn’t exactly the paragon of virtue given his extensive, murky past, but you didn’t know that. There seemed to be a lot of things you didn’t know. You were so unsure of yourself, having been practically sequestered by your religious zealot parents from being able to learn much of anything even if you wanted to.
He’d answered truthfully that a lot of people had different ideas of what made somebody a good person, and there wasn’t really a clear-cut answer. Your face had drawn into even more of a confused, lost expression. Your entire life had been a black and white dichotomy of purity vs evil, dictated by some bullshit ancient text that the people screaming at you from the podium every Sunday probably didn’t even believe or adhere to themselves.
“I’m afraid I’m a bad person,” you’d admitted to him in a strained whisper.
He could tell you were genuinely afraid. Again, he was tactful but truthful in his response: from what he knew of you, he didn’t believe that you were a bad person, but it wasn’t really his or anyone else’s call to make. You’d nodded and appreciated his candor, but it didn’t stop you from crying.
He’d brought you into a pacifying embrace, softly stroking your back, and trying his damndest to not let you feel his cock quickly hardening. You were so helpless and sad and confused, and he knew he could be the anchor you so desperately sought. Something certain. Something unwavering to tether yourself to until you weren’t so scared of becoming your own person.
“I don’t care if you’re a good person or not.”
You’d blinked in silent confusion when he said it, not quite understanding how such a thing was possible.
“I mean it. I like when you’re around. I don’t care if you’re good or bad. I like you just how you are.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. I do. And I think you like being around me, too.”
You’d nodded your head firmly at that, eyes flitting away in embarrassment to admit it. Your mouth parted so exquisitely when he’d gingerly gripped your chin to make you look at him again.
“Say it.”
“I like being around you,” you breathed. “You make things feel less confusing. It doesn’t–It doesn’t feel so scary all the time, if I’m with you.”
From then on he’d taken it slowly so as to not frighten you away. You needed him. You needed his help, his guidance. Despite being 22, your austere parents and strict upbringing had kept you from certain social and emotional milestones. You were crippled with the sort of self-doubt he’d expect in a freshman trying out for the varsity team.
You started lying to your parents about your whereabouts so you could see him more often. That was the first major hurdle to cross. The agony of being dishonest was something that truly unsettled you. Something seemed to click, though, when he’d told you that people should earn your trust and that it wasn’t something to just give away freely, even if they were your family.
He could see it in your eyes, the way they held his and danced, that you understood. Trust was to be earned and given – not demanded and taken. He left out the part of his thoughts about how maybe you shouldn’t trust him too much, either.
You’d felt a magnetic pull to him – authoritative and sure of himself – from the moment you met. You were too scared to admit and act on all the thoughts you had about him. It was the same thoughts that had you lying awake at night in your childhood bedroom, sobbing and fearful of an eternity in hell for all the things you felt for him.
But then you’d see him again, and he was kind. He made you feel safe. He made your brain quiet in a way you’d never experienced. You didn’t feel scared to do or say the wrong thing constantly. You wished so badly that he could see you in the same way you saw him.
He never made passes at you. He saw you as some charity case, probably. You weren’t exactly knowledgeable about how to present yourself as a sexual person or if you even were one to begin with.
The illustrations in the 70’s health textbook you’d rented from the library in eighth grade didn’t make you feel very much. It all looked confusing and strange. One passage even said it wasn’t expected for women to orgasm at the same rates men did. You certainly weren’t going to insert anything into yourself, and rubbing your palm against your clitoral hood like the book said felt overwhelming and like you were doing something bad. Your body felt like it belonged to someone else and you were violating it.
That same year you’d pecked a boy on the lips. Nothing. He’d told you that you were a bad kisser and left you to quietly cry over it. A few years later you tried again, knocking teeth with a different boy as you tried to mimic the tips in those teen girl magazines you read in a hurry at the grocery store, shoving it back onto the rack before your parents caught you reading such explicit things. Both times had left you wondering if you perhaps were meant for the nunnery. Maybe you weren’t even attracted to anybody. Maybe you should stop trying. Maybe your life was destined to be a sexless, holy sacrifice.
Dave had obliterated all such suspicions. Your entire body felt like it was on fire the first time you were close to him. Your inhales were so heavy and short the first time he patted your bicep in a gesture of kindness that he’d asked if you were having trouble breathing.
When he found out you’d up and left your parents house, unable to take anymore of their suffocating judgment and rules, he tracked you down to the underfunded women and children’s shelter that you were staying at. You refused his offer of paying for you to stay somewhere, but you couldn’t hold out when he insisted your only other option was to come stay with him until you were back on your feet. While you knew it would never come down to him dragging you out of there, he still warned you he’d do it if he had to. Part of you considered resisting just to feel his big hands scoop you up and maneuver your body like a limp little doll.
It was beyond your wildest dreams that you would be staying under the same roof as him, even if you were in the bedroom down the hall. He’d been so stern with you but not in the way your parents always were. He wasn’t callous and lashing out because you were some massive failure. He was upset with you, sure, but it was because you hadn’t come to him first before running off to a rundown shelter without any real plan of what came next. He’d gone on and on about how it wasn’t safe and how you should’ve known better than to not reach out to him.
When you broke down in tears at having let him down so spectacularly, his face softened immediately. He consoled you, held you tight, until the tears dried up. Your body trembled from the stress of it all. That’s when he’d said your nickname for the first time: bunny.
“You’re shaking like a frightened little rabbit,” he’d noted. “My little frightened bunny. You don’t have to be scared anymore, bunny. You understand?”
You sniffed and nodded and burrowed deeper into his hold. He wasn’t mad at you. He wasn’t disappointed. He just cared about you a lot and wanted what was best for you. You followed his guidance like a lost little puppy, and it felt so good to have someone to trust with your life. He tucked you into bed every night, and you pouted when he closed the door. You didn’t want to be in here by yourself. You wanted to be in his room. With him. Together.
But you weren’t sure how to say those sorts of things or if the feelings even made sense. It felt like you didn’t know much of anything, but Dave was slowly changing that. Maybe one day he could help you with these confusing feelings, too.
He noticed how you squirmed on the couch, clearly distracted by something you wanted to say but couldn’t. It was something he’d been trying to work with you on. He was patient no matter how many times you stammered and stalled and chickened out of whatever it was you were trying to say. Sometimes it was as simple as saying what you wanted for dinner. Other times it was something else, something a little more intimate.
He saw the way you watched him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention. Your body certainly responded to him even if you couldn’t vocalize it yet. You didn’t even understand the way you drove him crazy with your peaked nipples showing through a soft, loose t-shirt or the way your shorts rode up your pussy when you sat criss cross on the counter in the morning and watched him work.
He determined very quickly that he couldn’t just let you out of here. The world would chew you up and spit you out. It would ruin you and break you. Some other man would come along and take advantage of you. They wouldn’t treat you right, not like how he would treat you. You were safe here and moldable. He could help guide you into a different person, the kind of person you wanted to be but didn’t even know it yet.
“Something bothering you, bunny?”
Your eyes go wide like you’ve been caught red-handed. Your face was so easy to read he almost felt a little guilty using it to manage the conversation.
“No,” you lie.
He tilts his head and pins you with an unconvinced look. “There’s no need to lie. You can trust me, you know.”
As he predicted, you’re immediately apologetic and placating, assuring him that you do trust him. He lets you fester in the anxiety for a few beats before holding up a hand to signal you stop, which you do immediately.
“You’re alright. Don’t be nervous. You can tell me anything.”
You nibble on your lip and look down to your hands, picking at the dead skin along your fingernails.
“Stop picking at your skin and look at me when you speak,” he says firmly but not unkindly.
Your big round eyes slide up to meet his probing gaze. You hug your arms around yourself and sit up straighter. “Um. I just… I was… I’ve been getting scared at night,” you admit.
“Scared? You don’t have to be—”
“It feels scary to be alone in there,” you amend.
You do your best to meet his eye. He’d known for weeks now that you wanted to share his bed with him. As much as he liked the idea of your body slithering against his all night, it was the only time he had to keep a clear head. It was difficult at times to be patient with your personal growth. He didn’t want to rush things, and your ass rubbing against his morning wood wasn’t something he was sure he could resist.
“If it would help, I can stay with you after I tuck you in. Until you fall asleep,” he offers like he hadn’t already prepped for this exact scenario.
It’s obvious you hadn’t expected him to extend time together in the intimacy of your room, and he can’t help but mirror the big smile that brightens your entire face. Your mood is buoyant the entire day and through the evening, all the way through your nighttime routine. He sits on the side of the bed like he always does, looking down at your cozied body all snuggled inside the comforter. What he doesn’t expect is for you to ask for more.
“I’m kinda cold,” you say with weak conviction. “Do you think, um, that maybe you could, like, rub my arms really fast? You know, like, friction? To make me warmer?”
He sees right through the farce but wants to reward you for speaking up. “Of course,” he hums gently. He runs his hands on your biceps through the comforter in moderately paced passes and watches your face go a little lax, your eyes slightly hooded. He rubs up and down your legs for good measure and has to hold back a chuckle at the little sigh you let out. He really shouldn’t, but he presses a kiss to your forehead and cups your jaw.
“Better now? You warm, little bunny?” he coos.
You made a squeaky sort of yes sound, and he smiles warmly down at you.
Every night now he tucks you in, runs his hands over your body to “warm you up,” and gives you a little kiss on the forehead. He stays until you fall asleep, which is very difficult with how worked up you get from his hands being all over you, even if it’s through a plush comforter. After a whole week of it, you actually grow a little bit moody and agitated. Your body feels like static electricity and restless, like something needs to happen to help it calm down.
You have to apologize to Dave when you get short with him over not wanting to finish eating your strawberries. It makes between your legs feel even more warm and sticky when he informs you that you will be finishing your berries and hand feeds you each and every one until the bowl is empty. You take his fingers just inside your mouth on the last one, just to feel them and suckle the juice. His usually stoic face pinches for a split second, mouth dropping open a little.
You think you might start refusing berries more often if you got to feel his hands in your mouth again.
It was bound to happen. Your soft knock on his bedroom door at two in the morning. The low whisper of his name until he acknowledged you. He taps his bedside light on and watches your eyes bug when you realize he’s shirtless.
“What’sa matter?” he asks, voice thick with sleep.
Your long t-shirt dances across your bare thighs, no sleep shorts to be found. You fidget with your hands and move from foot to foot. “Can I please stay in here with you? Just for tonight? I won’t wake you up anymore. I just–I really need you, Dave.”
Your voice breaks on the last part, and he can’t send you back to your room like this, all agitated and nervous. He wordlessly lifts the blanket for you to join him, and you quickly crawl underneath it and whimper when he leans over you to turn out the light again.
“You wanna talk about it?” he offers even though he already has a fairly good idea of what the “issue” is. When you don’t respond, he drives the conversation forward in a more pointed direction. “You wanna tell me why you aren’t wearing any sleep shorts?”
“I had to take them off,” you choke out.
“Your legs are gonna get col–”
He stops short when his hand grazes over your bare hip. You’re not wearing anything at all under your t-shirt.
“It was too tight down there. It was all achy, and I had to take everything off. It was so bad, Dave. It was hurting. I couldn’t stand it any longer,” you rush to explain, sounding on the verge of a genuine panic.
“You ever have that happen before?” he feels out.
“Yes,” you mumble quietly.
“And what did you do before to make it go away?”
“I.. had a pillow tucked in between, and… nothing happened. It sort of made it worse. Until it went away after a while.”
“Is that what you tried tonight? And it didn’t work?” he probes.
“I get it worse and worse since I’ve been here, Dave,” you sniffle. “It keeps happening, ever since you warm me up after tucking me in.”
“You poor thing,” he coos. “S’that why you’ve been taking so long to go to sleep?”
You make a pathetic little sound of affirmation and clutch at him. He angles his hips away so you can’t feel how hard this is making him.
“Well I think I know how to help, but I don’t want to scare you.”
“I need your help, Dave. Please.”
He’s grateful for the cover of darkness to obscure his wolfish grin. “Have you ever made yourself come before, bunny?”
You whimper and tell him no but that you’ve tried. How your mind gets filled with shame and eternal damnation and fear. How you’re ashamed that you can’t even help yourself, like you don’t even know your own body. How helpless you feel. He calms you down and explains how he’s here to help you. You thank him endlessly, little errant tears finally drying up.
“I’m gonna help you tonight, bunny, but we’ll need to discuss it in the morning, okay?”
“Okay,” you agree.
He turns your back to him and pulls you flush against his chest. You startle at the feeling of his hard cock nudging at the swell of your ass through his sweatpants.
“Dave,” you whisper, nearly hoarse with nerves and fright.
“You’re okay,” he reassures you. “That’s just something that happens when a man is around a beautiful woman.”
“I don’t— I’m not ready for—” You start to sound panicked. This wasn’t how he was going to fuck you for the first time. For your first time. He wanted to savor every step of this. No rushing. He wanted to take you apart piece by piece until your body responded to his every word, every movement. His perfect little thing.
“Ssshh, it’s okay. It’s gonna stay where it is, okay? You might feel it because you’re pressing against it, but it’s not coming out today, okay?”
“Okay,” you breathe in a sigh of relief.
“You don’t ever have to be nervous with me, bunny. You don’t have to be scared anymore. Not here.”
“Thank you,” you sniffle.
He whispers in your ear every small touch before he does it so you’re not surprised. He taps the light on again so he can see your face when he makes you come for the first time. It doesn’t take long, just a few delicate circles against your soaked clit. You’re bucking and crying and trying to hold onto him as you experience it all for the first time. You thrash around until you’re facing him, and then you wrap your entire body around him and hold on for dear life.
He smiles against your temple, tells you how wonderful you did, how beautiful you are. He ignores his erection, so tight and hard that it’s painful, until you fall asleep. He takes care of it in the bathroom before slipping back into bed with you. There’s no going back now.
It was the best night of your life. It was the best sleep of your life. You woke up to Dave reading news articles on his phone, waiting patiently for you to wake up. Your body was clamped to his like you might float away if you didn’t hold on tight enough. He didn’t make you feel embarrassed about anything. He just asked how you were feeling and if you were feeling better, if he had helped you at all. You assured him he had and thanked him a million times over.
When you talked about what had happened, he asked that you always let him know if you were feeling like that so he could help you. So, you did. Every night for the next four nights. Then it happened during the day, just after breakfast on the couch. He was slower that time. More methodical. More watchful. Trying out new ways to help you.
“No, don’t think about it. Keep your eyes on me and focus on how it makes you feel,” he instructs with a firmness that had you complying within seconds.
His fingertips are wide and heavy on your tongue. Saliva is starting to pool and stick to his fingers. You grasp at his wrist with both hands to bridge the gap between your bodies.
“Good. That’s good. Keep going.”
You lift the tip of your tongue and let the heft of his fingers weigh it down. Without thinking, you gently suckle. Dave’s eyes grow dark and focused, and it makes you suckle again and harder.
“There you are,” he breathes. “Just focus right here – focus on me.”
You whine at the encouragement, eyes feeling heavy and fogged, and split his fingers with your tongue. Your mouth hangs open with the movement, and he takes the opportunity to slowly rub his fingers back and forth along your gums.
“You like the way I feel in your mouth, bunny?”
The double meaning is nearly lost on you, but your cheeks burn with the confusing need his ambiguous, suggestive question drowns you in. Your brows scrunch in concentration. You pull his fingers out of your mouth just enough to answer.
“I like you in my mouth,” you whisper. “It feels good. You feel good. You make me feel good.”
He hums a lazy acknowledgement, draws his fingers back together, and slides them back into your mouth on the span of your tongue. “Suck.”
You oblige with a tentative suction that grows stronger with a few pulls.
“Good. That’s so good, bunny. You’re such a good girl for me.”
I can be good for you echoes in a scream inside your head.
As if every thought is plastered onto your forehead, Dave coos, “I know you want to be so good for me, don’t you? I know you can be such a good girl just for me, isn’t that right?”
A crackly moan gets stuck in your throat as you mindlessly bob your head in agreement.
“I wanna see just how much you like it.”
He pulls his fingers from your mouth until they release with a soft slurping pop. His hands are already pushing the hem of your nightgown up your thighs like some theater curtain rising to debut the show.
“I’m gonna give her a little kiss, okay?”
You don’t have time to process what he means before his hot mouth is pursed around your clit. You fall apart in record time, overwhelmed with how there was something else that could feel so good. He never stopped making you feel so good.
You can’t stop thinking about more. You worked up the nerve to ask Dave if there were books or websites you could use to learn about sex and intimacy. He always found you the perfect article and even read it to you. Everything was handpicked by him and explained without making you feel dumb. Just hearing him say the words aloud was enough to get you going. It was mostly information about what things were called or how exactly things worked, but he made it sensual nonetheless.
Dave snores softly next to you, but you’re wide awake. The electric pull to have him do more to you made it difficult to sleep last night. You’re not even sure how to ask for it. You’re not even sure what more means in the grand scheme of things. You just know that following his words and whims felt safe and warm and intoxicating. You want him to show you more. You want to be good for him again. He finally stirs awake, and you immediately pounce.
“I-I can’t – couldn’t really sleep last night. I- Can I be good for you again?”
A sleepy, self-satisfied smile creeps onto his features. “Of course, bunny. You’re always good for me.”
You exhale a deep breath that had been lodged in your chest. Every time he spoke felt like a warm blanket wrapping around you, making you snug and safe.
He rubs his eyes and sits up against the headboard. A funny expression crosses his face just before he asks if you want to “see him.” He tilts his head, motioning to his groin.
You gulp but tell him yes. It’s unnerving, but you’re already getting wet just seeing the outline of his cock against the fabric of his sweatpants.
“Take it out,” he says softly.
You swallow hard again but tug his waistband down, flinching when the heft of him smacks against his stomach.
“Go on and give it a kiss,” he says, low and secret. Just something special between the two of you.
You eye his hard cock with hesitance, knowing full well that you were supposed to somehow fit this thing in your mouth eventually. It was oral sex – a “blowjob” according to the sites you and Dave had been looking at – but you weren’t sure how to do anything, even with your readings.
“Just a little kiss, bunny,” he encourages, holding it firmly at the base in his big hand that makes it look a little less imposing. “Just like how you had my fingers in your mouth. And look at me when you do it.”
You hold his eye as you sink down between his legs. He rubs the head across your soft lips and groans when the tip of your tongue sneaks out to taste it. It smells warm and masculine, so very much Dave. Something about that is comforting and makes you less nervous.
You kiss it like the first time you kissed his mouth. You try to remember how you intuitively suckled his fingers and replicate the movements. Seeing him experience pleasure because of something you were doing was like a drug. His breath hitched as you wrapped your lips around the head, and you wanted to hear that gorgeous sound on repeat until the end of time. You don’t get as long as you’d like, but he explains that you’re making him feel so good he worries he might come too soon.
You feel hot all over when he tells you to prop yourself up against the headboard and spread yourself open for him. You hold your pussy lips apart, just like he said, and watch him tug on his cock. You might be able to do that for him one day soon, you think. You study the movements so you can use them, too, like a cheat code. Your breath stills when he jerks his load all over your spread out pussy. The warm trickle of it drips down and splashes onto your thighs. It feels nice.
“C’mere,” he grunts the moment he’s done spilling all over you.
He lays down again and hauls you over to sit on his belly, thighs hugging his torso. His cum smacks and sticks against his skin where your pussy is seated against him.
“Rub yourself on me,” he orders.
He braces his hands on your hips and starts guiding you to rock back and forth. You rest your hands on top of his and try to follow his motion. The friction feels nice, something vulgar and sensuous about wriggling around with his cum plastered all over your privates.
“Lemme see you come, just like this,” he rasps.
You try and try, but you can’t bring yourself to climax. You’re growing more frustrated by the minute that you can’t come. You feel aroused. You want to come. Your brain is holding you hostage yet again. As usual, Dave takes notice of your internal struggles.
“Can’t get there on your own, hm?” he asks with a tone dripping in amusement and arrogance.
You shake your head, slightly embarrassed but mostly worked up.
“Aw, no? That’s what I’m here for. I’ll help you feel good, bunny. Just ask really nice for it, and I’ll make you feel good.”
“I need you to make me feel good,” you whine. “Please. I can’t do it. I need you to make me feel good, Dave. Please.”
He keeps one hand on your hips and pushes for you to rock faster. His other hand snakes between your folds and plays with your clit.
“So good for me.”
You come undone, rocking yourself back and forth through the rhythmic spasm of your walls. You’re panting still when he swipes two fingers beneath your entrance and scoops up the mixture of fluids. He holds it in front of your face, and you think you know what he wants you to do. You suckle his fingers and swallow down the mixture. It’s bitter and tangy and earthy. Not the worst thing you’ve ever tasted, but the texture is strange. He repeats the act and tells you not to swallow. It’s thick on your tongue, your mouth flooded now.
“Open your mouth.”
You aren’t sure why he’d want you to do that when he’s just filled your mouth, but you trust him.
“Wider. Let it drip out.”
You roll your tongue forward, sending your spit and mixed fluids over the edge of your lip and dripping down your chin and onto your chest. He watches you with a restrained fire and smears it across your chest. You buck at the sensation when he thumbs your nipple.
“So sensitive,” he says quietly, almost to himself.
“Sorry.”
His eyes flick up to yours at the shame laced apology. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. You’re so good for me. You did everything so well for me, bunny.”
You smile shyly at the encouragement. He always knows just what to say.
He was practically toying with you now. Every little thing was new to you, and every little thing made you a pliant, responsive mess for him. You were eager in a way that made him feel young again. Your mood had improved significantly since you moved in with him. You didn’t say unkind things about yourself as frequently. You were learning how to ask for the things you wanted. You were speaking with confidence and holding your head a little higher.
You were over the moon at the most basic things, to the point that it almost aggravated him that you had been given so little before you met him. You deserved so many things. You looked beautiful at the special little dinner he’d arranged for your birthday. You cried over your gift – a small, unused corner of the house that he’d fashioned into a little makeshift library with two plush seats and a small table for coffees and teas and snack cakes.
You loved reading. Mostly classic romance novels, but some surprising choices as well, like murder mysteries and thrillers. You never got to read much of what you wanted to growing up, but those kinds of rules didn’t apply here. He listened to you relay the stories to him, holding back a laugh when you told him all about the scary hitman villain from your most recent read.
“And he’s-he’s, like, an assassin, you know? And, oh my gosh, I know he’s supposed to be bad and everything, but I think it’s so… I actually sort of like how he’s just so good at being bad, you know? He’s an expert in all kinds of stuff. That’s how he doesn’t get caught. It’s just, UGH. It’s so good! He sounds kinda handsome, too. From the description and all. Do you think they made it into a movie? Could we see if they made it into a movie, Dave? And watch it?”
He likes to think that if you knew the real him that you wouldn’t care if he was good or bad, either. Just like he didn’t care if you were good or bad. Although, you were most decidedly good through and through. He encouraged you to write. It was a good outlet for you, he thought. You weren’t even shy about reading your little stories to him. He thinks about your next birthday and having your stories bound by a professional bookshop.
You’re leaning over the counter reading again when he comes up behind you and curves his wide hands along the front of your thighs. He rests his head beside yours to keep your eyes straight ahead. You shiver and sigh when he rubs the folds of your pussy lips, one each between his middle and pointer fingers. He holds them while he wedges his fingers together, softly pinching your clit.
“Keep yourself up, bunny,” he purls.
He’s setting you up for failure. He knows your legs are already trembling. They’ll give way when you come, and he’ll be there to catch you and steady you. Your entire body shakes as you climax, and your balance slips just like he knew it would.
“Poor baby can’t even stand up once I get my hands on her,” he breathes in a laugh.
You shoot him a pouty look, and he can’t help but grin.
Another lazy, dreamy evening together. It was supposed to be bedtime, but then you’d started grinding on his thigh and things devolved from there. He holds you from behind and alternates between fucking you with his fingers and palm hitting your clit with small, quick pussy slaps. You buck and gasp, not entirely sure if you are enjoying it or not.
“What a messy little pussy,” he groans in your ear. “So wet I had to give it a little spanking.”
Your breath trembles when he starts talking. His words shut down your brain and put you into your body, hyper aware of every sensation. You swear you feel more arousal drool out of you.
“Yeah, I feel how much wetter this pretty cunt is getting just from being spanked.” He pulls his hand out and slaps your clit again, drawing a loud moan from you. He laughs under his breath at your reactivity.
He gives one harsh slap and immediately presses all four fingers flat against your clit and starts wiggling back and forth in a blur. You come hard and loud.
He flips you on your back and spreads you open, rubbing his dick between your engorged lips.
“Fuck me,” he groans. “Look at these lips, all fat and wet from being spanked.” He presses them tight around his cock, and you whine at the overstimulation. He shushes you gently. “Be good for me. Be a good girl and let me fuck this puffy pussy.”
He thrusts lazily through the envelope of your swollen lips, pulling away at the very last second to spill all over your stomach. He feeds it to you, and you readily suck his fingers clean. He smiles when you open your mouth to show him you swallowed it all down.
The shame creeps up again after you use the bathroom and join Dave at the sink where you brush your teeth together every night. You’re quiet, feeling conflicted about how you enjoyed him popping his hand against your privates and talking about them so crudely, almost like he was using your body solely for his own pleasure. You feel guilty and like you shouldn’t have enjoyed it.
“You’re awfully quiet,” he notes.
Your eyes go wide. You were so lost in your thoughts you’d almost forgotten he was there. You shrug and brush your teeth for an excuse to stall. Even when you’re done you struggle to keep eye contact. “Was what happened earlier okay?”
He tenses, and you think he might misunderstand what you meant. Like maybe you were upset about how he’d treated you.
“Did you feel uncomfortable with what I was doing? You wish I hadn’t done it?”
“No, it’s not that,” you insist. You chew your bottom lip and try to not let the waves of guilt consume you.
“Tell me what you’re thinking right now,” he demands, firm but not unkind. “And look at me when you answer.”
Your misted eyes find his, and his expression morphs into a softer, consoling expression.
“Is it bad I liked it?” you ask, each word stumbling from your tongue.
“Is it bad you liked what?”
“When you… how you were .. touching me… sl-slapping it.. down there,” you practically whisper, feeling mortified and childish and unsure of yourself.
“Did it feel good?”
You nod.
“Then it’s not bad that you liked it.”
“But.. why did I… why did I like it?”
“You’re feeling ashamed because you liked it? You think you shouldn’t enjoy something like that?”
You sniff and nod. He pulls you close to him.
“When two people trust each other, there’s all sorts of ways you can explore and push boundaries. Sometimes you find a hard limit, and other times you find what you thought was the limit ended up being flexible and changeable.”
“What does that mean, though?”
He cups your face and tilts it back for you to fully look at him. “It means, bunny,” he says, steadfast and confident, “that you don’t have to accept what you thought were your limits. You’re free to learn and feel new things.”
“So why do I feel … why do I feel so guilty?”
“Because you’re unlearning all the lies you were told your entire life. That you should be ashamed about anything that makes you happy or makes you feel good.”
“Yeah…..” you concede.
He cradles your face and noses your forehead. “You’re experiencing all these new things with me. It’s good to learn what you like and what makes you feel good. I told you that’s what I’m here for. I’m here to take care of you, to make you feel good. To keep you safe and happy.”
You clear your throat and sniff away the emotion building up. “So I’m not a bad person for liking it?”
He smiles that lazy, arrogant way that makes your heart flutter. “No, bunny. You’re my good girl, remember? And good girls get to be nasty sometimes and get away with it. You can be bad when I let you, hm? You like when I let you be nasty, don’t you?”
Your cheeks burn with arousal and embarrassment. “Yeah,” you whisper.
“And you do such a good job being a nasty little slut for me.”
You gasp at the name, thighs rubbing together instinctively for reasons you still haven’t begun to understand.
He smirks at your reaction. “See, sweet girl? You know how much I like you being nasty for me. And it makes your little pussy all wet, doesn’t it?”
Without waiting for an answer, he pushes his hand between your legs and parts them so he can rub between your folds. He groans at the slick already pooling there.
“I know what you need, bunny. I know how you need to be shown all the ways your body can feel good, and I care about you so much that I’m gonna do just that.”
“Th-Thank you,” you stammer, eyes drifting closed at the feeling of his hand working you slowly.
“Thank you for what?” he fishes.
“Thank you for letting me be good for you and for being your... your nasty little slut.”
“Good girl,” he praises emphatically. “Now come for me.”
His fingers press hard against your nub and rub vigorously back and forth, and your orgasm barrels through your lower belly.
“It’s not gonna fit,” you worry. “It’s too big. It’s not gonna fit in me.”
He’d worked you open for the better part of half an hour, but you were still nervous.
“Sshh shh, I know, I know,” he soothes. “That’s why you have to learn to take it. You have to be such a good girl for me and learn how to take it.”
He braces himself above you, notching himself at your entrance, and breaches the opening. You moan and whine and claw at him to be closer to you. You hiss when he gets the head inside, and he pauses to let you adjust. Wet kisses all along your neck and collarbone. Whispers of praise and encouragement. You finally relax again, and he feeds a little more of his cock to you.
He makes it about halfway when you gasp and clench at the sting. He waits, ever patient and soothing. He’s waited this long to be your first. He can wait a few more moments while you attempt to accommodate the size of him. He watches your face contort as you struggle to take him in.
“Is-Is it in all the way yet?” you squeak.
“Just a few more inches,” he promises, not even trying to conceal his smirk.
You start to protest as to how that’s even possible, but he cuts you off with a deep kiss. The weight of him stretching and pushing against your walls burns and delights all the same, and you’re a whiny mess when he finally bottoms out. He fucks you slow, talking almost the whole way through. Never letting you get wrapped up in your own head. Never letting you forget that you’re his and he would never, ever let anything happen to you.
He stops when you ask him to. He starts again when you ask him to. He works your nipple between his teeth, your clit with his thumb, and sinks in and out of you in tandem. The feeling of coming on his cock is entirely different than his mouth or even his fingers. His name leaves your lips in a song of praise and reverence. You suck his thumb when he places it on your tongue, a comforting thing while he pistons into you a little harder, a little faster.
He’s invaded every part of you, every sense overwhelmed with him him him.
“You want me to make you all warm inside, bunny? Give her something to drink for her very first time?” he husks.
You nod, all dopey and fucked out, sucking his thumb harder and harder. You watch with half-lidded eyes as his mouth drops open, brows all furrowed, never losing tempo as his hips crash into you, finally stuttering as his release starts to flood your insides. He stays inside you even past when he’s gone soft. You don’t want to lose any part of him. Don’t want to be separated from him in any way.
He snuggles you close in bed, nuzzling your neck and ear. “My perfect little bunny. You did so well. Knew you’d do so well for me.”
“I always wanna be yours,” you say in a hush.
“You’ve been mine this whole time, bunny,” he chuckles. “Mine all mine.”
tagging people who previously expressed interest:
@guiltyasdave @pedropeach @tonysopranosrobe @bonezone44 @angiewatson
@for-a-longlongtime @drunk-and-capable @604to647 @beardedjoel @quinnnfabrgay-writes
@umnitsa @youmeand5bucks @toxicrecs @syd-djarin @mothandpidgeon
@indiegirlunited @sizzlingcloudmentality @ghotifishreads @bubble-pop-eclectic
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𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭...
...you'll be able to find each ghost boy (under their respective section, ofc lol) in the master list all with the same title :). I decided to just do them all one at a time to keep from having you wait any longer/forcing myself to pump them all out in one go/one long ass post lmao.
plus, to hopefully make it easier, I'll just tag you each time as the requester so you know, if that's okay lol♡.
𝐄𝐚𝐬𝐲 𝐎𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬
《 ♡ 》 headcannons
───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────
𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 :
while it's always fun to imagine (haha, get it💀) what it'd be like for him to be your best friend or your boyfriend, there's times when you yearn for that tension. that something in between that's more than a platonic relationship, but just short of being a lover. and I'm here to revive that feeling of what it'd be like for robin arellano to have a crush on you...
𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 :
fem!reader x robin arellano - she/her/hers pronouns!
𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞 :
70s-80s - the grabber doesn't exist
𝐓𝐖/𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 :
cursing - robin lowkey being a menace💀 - him also liking you tho - mentions of fighting/violence - manhandling,,, kind of?? (idk I personally wouldn't call it that, but- 😭✋🏽) - me focusing a little too much on the jealousy stuff lol whoops🧍🏽♀️...
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────
I feel like he doesn't really "crush" on ppl. He finds people attractive and that's about as far as that's gonna go lmfao. If anything, he finds it fun to recognize/point out the difference between when people are conventionally/deemed by society's standards "attractive" vs when HE actually finds somebody to be a good looker to HIM (he wanna be different so bad🙄✋🏽).
But like I said, him finding someone hot doesn't really go anywhere. He doesn't do/say anything about, nor go out of his way to force things, especially when there's no prior connection/feelings there.
On that note, I feel like for him to have a crush on you (reader), two things would need to be an order; You'd have to attract him one way or another. Like, there's gotta be something about you that makes him have that, "Oh, she's fine as hell, I gotta talk to her." mindset towards you, even if he'd have yet to act on it. And, there's gotta be, like I said, a prior connection.
Or, you could get lucky, and a very specific set of circumstances could spark something up between y'all. He's not opposed to a meet-cute😻.
If y'all were already friends/close, he'd deny👏🏽deny👏🏽deny👏🏽 having feelings for so long. Not towards you, but towards himself. He would deadass be lying to himself about liking you romantically, even a little a bit, but unfortunately, it'd be one of those things that sneaks up on him one day and then just all comes crashing down into one existential crisis.
But even after accepting them, he'd STILL not bother to do anything about it - not bc he doesn't think he has a chance (well, maybe a little bit, but see if he'd tell anyone that), but also bc he doesn't want to ruin the friendship between y'all.
He'd hate to lose you just because he woke up "...on some bullshit, bro, I can't believe I like her..." one day, so he's more than likely to keep quiet about it.
Although, he can say that's what he's doing all he wants, his actions kind of prove otherwise; he might accidentally drop a subtle hint or two, and the stuff that he normally does that held the air of friendship and loyalty suddenly becomes a bit more,,, ✨️🧡💫💋, ykwim?
If he's walking with you, maybe crossing the street or something, he could care less about how far you are behind him if it meant getting to the nearest idk Burger King or whatever faster💀✋🏽. Or at school - sure, he might be on the look out for you if he's bored, or should he hear anyone tarnishing your name without you there to defend yourself on your own, shoot them a dirty look. And even just hanging out at the drive-in; it's viewed as more of a casual hangout than anything.
But let a crush develop some,,, let him become a little infatuated with you... Now, all of the sudden, crossing the street is a whole ordeal; checking for cars is routine now, and whether you like it or not, he's got a hand wrapped around your wrist and is tugging you along gently with an alertness that both amused and perplexed you. And at school, he's now taking any free time he may have to actually go looking for you instead of your paths crossing due to natural coincidence, just to act as though he had no time at all to waste with you, and would pester you at your locker whenever he did spot you.
And, as much as he hated the way his hands would clam up and how his heart would beat out of his chest and how he practically had to force himself not to look for your reaction to every single scene of the movie he picked, he was insistent on having a specific schedule for going out to the movies now. And no, he'd never, ever let you pay, even when you really should've and definitely could've.
But...
Say if he hadn't known you beforehand tho, and y'all met through some sort of meet-cute or whatever,,, him starting to like you would be a little easier of a process for him.
Something he wouldn't be so against because there's "nothing" to ruin or fuck up besides his chances with you, so now he can pretty much just focus on not screwing that up.
He's way quicker to drop hints (not saying he's any smoother with it, but that's not gonna stop him from doing it lmfao cuz who finna check him😗😹).
It's things like really obvious (almost bad) flirting, and teasing that isn't in the same way as he might do with his regular friends. If anything, he might use it as an excuse to always be touching you in some way - OMG TELL ME HE WOULDN'T BE A CHRONIC "You got something on your shirt..." JUST TO FLICK YOUR FACE TYPE OF PERSON LMFAO!!
You'd hate it and look at him like, "😐" and he'd just get a kick out of it, looking at you and laughing every single time like he's comedy fckn central💀.
Or if he's telling you a story - probably about the last time he beat someone up - he's using you as "the other guy", gently tapping you with ghost punches and moving you about by the shoulders when need be lmao. And even just in general, when he's not storytelling,,, give him ONE good reason to try and be physical, and he'll take it and SPRINT.
And if you notice that fact (there's no way you possibly couldn't), all he'll do is smirk at you and go, "It's fine, you like it😌."
Bro just slaps on an obnoxious and obscene amount of confidence and calls it a day, basically. Fake it 'til you make it type of thing, and it most definitely works (you wouldn't be reading this if it didn't🤭🤷🏽♀️). But of course, let it be known he'd never do anything to make you uncomfortable. I just imagine he's rather cocky in his abilities to woo someone if he really, really wanted it, and well... it's you, so...
He really, really wants you LMFAO😭. Anyways, back on track...
I feel like he's definitely the jealous type, but he won't do anything about it/won't get outta pocket unless your well-being is at stake. Like, if you were clearly uncomfy in a situation, or you specifically came to him on some, "This guy's bothering me..." type shit, oh, it's 0-100 rq. He's absolutely beating the shit out of that person (more so than when he's just in a regular fight).
Because of that, he'll definitely be scary dog privilege, like, I'm sorry, but,,, I feel like he's the type to - once he decides he's gunning for you - that's it. Not in a possessive way, just in the sense that he's totally made up his mind and, as much as he likes to maybe slap on a chill and nonchalant-type persona, he actually cares very deeply about things and people that have an affect on him.
He's also a go-getter, so with all of that in mind, it makes sense that even if you didn't reciprocate his feelings, he'd STILL make it known that he don't play about you lmfao. But even so, jealousy is also one of those things he just deny-deny-denies, will totally brush it off if you bring it up, even if you tease him for it.
But, he is a dork at the end of the day lmao tease him long enough and he'll eventually fold and just be like, "Nah it's just cuz I treasure you and I like you, like... would you rather I didn't care or just ignored it whenever a guy looked at you crazy? Exactly, hush, you love me😌✨️🧡." Once again, it's that seemingly blind confidence that definitely has you shaking your head a lot with a giggles escaping you, but YOU ALSO DON'T SAY NO/TELL HIM OTHERWSIE, SOOO😆🤭...!!
Honestly, with Robin being jealous, I feel like it's one of those things you dk/even realize he's feeling until it's "too late" - he's stalking towards someone you've complained about making you uncomfortable or he's already done what he needs to do, he's coming back to you, and after a short conversation with you pressing him about why and whatnot, it just hits you, and you're like, "Oh...Oh my god, you're jealous🤭..." and he's all "nO😡....."
"You lyin'?😆"
"...yeah😔..."
Although, jealously for you surprisingly isn't often. Like sure, girls dk how to back off, but not only are you both pretty secure, but he's also very reassuring. Both in speaking directly to you, telling you he doesn't really have eyes for them, AND towards the other people. He breaks hearts left and right, and it's highkey not even on purpose...
Bro just doesn't know how to let folks down easy - so much so that sometimes even YOU feel bad😭. Sometimes...
"You didn't have to say it to her like that...!"
"Wha-? But it's true! Should I have lied? Like..."
"No, but I'm just-! ... You need to learn to be more sensitive about these things😭..."
"Fym, I'm the most sensitive guy I know😙."
"...The kid whose nose you broke a month ago would say otherwise, but okay🙃."
But otherwise, if and when you're not scolding him, he finds your envy to be very endearing and validating. It lets him know that you are actually thinking about him in the romantic sense like he is you, and he just likes seeing you get all worked up lmfao. Something about your brows being furrowed and the heated look in your eyes reminds him of, well, himself! And he takes a little bit of pride in that, if he's being honest with himself, especially if it's a rare occurrence.
If you're normally this little sweetheart, and you're not exactly on the violent and/or temperamental side, in those moments where you might snap a little bit, he's DEFINITELY paying the most attnetion and he's DEFINITELY standing there like, 'Omgomgthat'shot-...' 💀😭.
If anything, I feel like these strong emotions from either one of you two could for sure be the gateway into him finding out/realizing you like him back...
Like, you'd definitely slip up one time, say something you weren't supposed to, or he'd reassure you way too much and let something slip, SOMETHING LIKE THAT, and either way, he finds out and he's like "Ohp🫢...AAAAH😃🫵🏽⁉️....YOU LIKE MEEEEE I KNEWWW ITTT🤪😘🫵🏽!!!"
He'd probably be too busy celebrating the fact he "...always knew and I'm always right about these things, blahblahblah..." while you stand there like, "🙄😒..." to remember there's actually supposed to be something following up after a whole ass love confession💀.
But, because you do, in fact, love him, I'm sure you'd be the one to fill in that gap, and short after, a very chaotic yet loving/meaningful relationship would ensue.
THAT BOY LOVESSS YOU, OKAAAY💋🧡✨️‼️‼️‼️
𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐥...
...as I was writing this one (well, adding onto what had already been written), the app glitched, and the whole thing deleted itself...
shit pmo so bad, I just didn't touch it again for like a whole month😭✋🏽. it's also part of the reason why it's shorter than I actually intended, so I apologize, but I hope all enjoy it regardless🙏🏽♡.
next up is vance, tho !!
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭
𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 :
@in3rci4
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :
1,830 words
𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 :
none :(
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