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marvelouslizzie · 6 months

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Pretty Little Thing - co-written with @notafunkiller

Summary: Your long-time crush, Bucky Barnes, is a regular at the bar where you work, and tonight, it's impossible to avoid serving him for the first time.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: +18, alcohol, oral sex (f receiving), rough sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 3.8K

A/N: @notafunkiller and I merged our separate ideas into one and this is the outcome. It was so much fun to write. We hope it'll me the same while reading too.

All work is ours, please do not repost or translate without our permission.

Every like, comment, and reblog is highly appreciated. Don’t hesitate to message us. Unless it’s hate. That’s never welcome.

You thought this night would be calm and easy, that nothing significant would happen. All that changed when Bucky Barnes set foot in the bar. It’s not his first time here by any means, but until now you successfully managed to avoid him by asking the other bartender to serve his side. This time, unfortunately, you are working alone. It’s a slow night, so there’s no way you can really avoid him.

You watch him find an empty place and sit down, and you really don’t know what to do. You can feel yourself sweating already. You are so nervous. Not because you are afraid of him or anything. He doesn’t look scary. Not to you. You are afraid to embarrass yourself in front of him, but you should be able to ask for his order and serve it without messing it up. That’s not so hard.

Just keep it simple, you tell yourself.

“Hey, what can I get you?”

Bucky looks up from his phone straight into your eyes, and you freeze a little.

“Hello, do you... a draft beer, please.”

His answer confuses you. That’s not his usual order.

“You sure you don’t want something stronger? We have that bourbon.” You curse yourself internally for paying attention and not being able to hold your tongue.

He raises his eyebrow surprised. “How do you know that? There is no way you served me any drinks cause I would remember you.”

He frowns as soon as he finishes speaking. Maybe you helped your colleague or maybe you were informed about what he drinks just in case he showed up. He’s still the Winter Soldier after all.

“I never served you before.” You say with a shy smile. You hope this is enough of an answer for him.

“Do I look like a bourbon man?” He asks playfully before giving you a smile that transforms his face a little, softening his features.

“You look like you enjoy quality stuff, and between you and me, our draft beer is shitty.”

That comment makes him chuckle. You’re so distracted by his face that you don’t notice how his eyes fall straight to your breasts.

“Thanks for the tip. Normal beer then?”

“If you insist.” You smile and open the small fridge under the bar where you keep some of the beers. You quickly open it and put it right in front of him, not realizing that gesture shows off your bartender skills a little bit.

He doesn’t look away from you as he takes a big sip before placing the bottle on the table quickly.

“For how long have you been working here?”

“For the past year.” You avoid making eye contact while drying some of the freshly washed glasses.

“Oh.” He sounds kind of taken aback. “I’m surprised you never served me. I’ve been coming here for what? Seven months?”

“Eight.” You bite your bottom lip as soon as the word slips out, trying to shut yourself up so you won’t mess up even more. What were you thinking? Well, you weren't…

His eyes immediately glow, and you wonder if you fucked up for good.

“So you’ve been keeping an eye on me?” He brings the bottle to his mouth and before you can say anything, you watch him finishing it in one go.

“I just noticed you.” Of course, you kept an eye on him, but you played it down a little.

“Well, I didn’t notice you,” he says regretfully. “And I wonder how. I am pretty aware of my surroundings... especially if they are full of beautiful people like you.”

You can’t help but blush, yet you try to sound unaffected. You don’t know if you succeed or not, though.

“This place is usually so crowded and full of… people. So it’s normal.”

“Neah,” he denies immediately. “Have you been hiding or something?”

“I was just on the other side of the bar.” And you were trying to hide from him, saving yourself from this embarrassment because you knew if you talked to him you would fuck up. You were right.

“So I was on the wrong side this whole time.” He shakes his head. “Another beer, please, doll.”

“The same?” You ask while trying not to dwell on the pet name he uses.

“Yes, please. And one drink for you. Whatever you want, if you are allowed to drink, of course.”

The way he offers to buy you a drink surprises you. You feel quite nervous, but you try to maintain your calm. He’s probably just being nice, right?

“I am allowed to drink, but that’s not necessary.”

He pouts. “I didn’t mean you need to talk to me for it, doll. There are no conditions for this drink.”

“Oh.” You didn’t even think he would take it this way. “That’s not why I said it’s not necessary. I wasn’t worried about that.”

“Okay. Whatever you want... I won’t insist.”

“It’s just… I am allowed to drink whatever I want. You don’t need to pay for it.” You try to explain so he won’t take it the wrong way.

“Alright,” he says, a little distant, as you open up another bottle of beer and put it in front of him.

“I just didn’t want you to pay extra when I can get it for free.” You don’t know why you are explaining yourself like this. It’s normal not to accept drinks from customers.

“It’s fine, I totally understand. Thank you!” He reaches for the bottle immediately.

You take a fancy glass out of the rack and pour yourself one of the ready-to-serve cocktails that your colleague prepared, right in front of him. He doesn’t say anything as he keeps staring at your hands.

“Thanks for the drink.” You say while putting the bottle away.

“Me?” He asks surprised. “Thought this is on the bar.”

“Well, you gave me the idea, and if you really insist on spending your money so unnecessarily, who am I to stop you?”

“That’s a good attitude.” He smiles again before bringing his bottle close to your glass. “Cheers to a good Thursday in a lovely company.”

You clink your glass with a smile on your face. It seems like he finally understood your intention, so you feel relieved.

“How does that taste?”

“Don’t let the color fool you, it tastes really strong but delicious.” You look at him for a second and notice that got his interest. “Wanna taste it?” You offer your own drink to him, and he contemplates for a few seconds before leaning in.

“Yes, I am curious.”

You hand the glass to him. Your fingers touch for a second, and you get so excited that you worry about dropping the glass. It’s like your heart is in your throat.

“Your hands are cold,” he comments casually before taking a sip right from the spot covered by your lipstick. You gasp. You have no idea if he did it on purpose, but the way he’s drinking it… your body is responding to that so much. You clear your throat, trying to calm yourself down.

“Delicious.” He smiles, handing back your glass, and you notice a bit of lipstick in the corner of his mouth.

It creates this internal dilemma. Should you just let him know about it or act like nothing happened and let him walk around like this? The second one could cause him a lot of embarrassment, and you don’t wanna be the reason for that. That’s why you suddenly find yourself leaning closer to him, just to wipe the lipstick off. He doesn’t move an inch, not jumping like you would expect, letting you touch him. When you realize what you are doing, you suddenly feel super self-conscious.

“You…” You gulp down. “You have… lipstick on… just here.”

You keep rubbing your finger against the corner of his mouth. You feel his stubble and how soft his lips are, but you try not to think about it. He chuckles, covering your hand with his. It surprises you so much that you freeze for a second. Then you look into his eyes, struggling to see if you made him feel uncomfortable or not.

“So considerate of you. Thank you.”

You move your hand away from his mouth but not away from his touch. Somehow you can’t find the strength to do that.

What he does next, though, makes you completely breathless. He brings your hand to his mouth again, but this time he presses his lips gently against your skin, smiling right after. Your eyes open with surprise, feeling completely speechless, yet you don’t move away. You don’t even realize you are smiling slightly.

“Your hands are still so cold.”

“Yeah…” You try to speak, but it feels like your words are stuck in your throat. “They are always cold.”

“We need to change that.” He places another kiss on your hand.

He’s surprisingly nervous as he leads you to the living room. Based on his confidence back in the bar, you didn’t expect him to become so shy all of a sudden.

“Do you want some coffee?”

“No.” You answer quickly. The only thing you want is to feel his lips again but you keep that thought to yourself.

“What do you want then?”

It’s obvious in his tone and the way he looks at you he doesn’t ask you about drinks.

“You.” You can’t believe you said this out loud, but it’s the truth.

He doesn’t need another push as he comes closer, grabbing you by the chin. Your lips crash together with an almost desperate hunger. He takes the opportunity immediately, getting his tongue inside your mouth in a fervent exploration. The sensation is electrifying.

You let him explore your mouth while you focus on his taste. It’s so unique and tasty, you just can’t get enough of it. Your hands slowly move toward the back of his head, pulling him closer.

“Fuck,” he groans when he feels your touch, breaking the kiss just to move his lips to your neck.

“Mhmm… James.” His lips feel so good against your neck. It just sends a jolt of arousal through your body.

But then he freezes, with his mouth glued to your neck. You open your eyes confused wanting to ask him what happened, and that’s when you realize what you’ve just said.

“You know who I am?” His voice is a warm whisper against your skin.

“Of course, I know who you are.” You make it sound so natural as if there’s no way you wouldn’t know who he is. “You think I go to the houses of men I don’t know?” You say playfully.

“I didn’t mean that...” He raises his head from the crook of your neck just to look you in the eye. “I didn’t mean it offensively, I just wasn’t sure. I’m just stupid, I didn’t expect it.”

“I know who you are, James Bucky Barnes.”

“Fuck,” he groans, bringing his thumb to your bottom lip. “Say it again.”

“James Bucky Barnes or just James?”

He kisses you more desperately than before, his hands finding your hips as he gently grabs them, pulling you so close that you can feel his erection. You gasp so softly, but he hears it anyway, and you settle on his hard cock so it’s right against where you want it to be.

He moans. “Let’s go to the bedroom, doll.”

“Why?” You ask innocently as if you don’t know what he means. “Isn’t your couch comfortable enough?”

For him? Sure. But for you?

“The bed is better.”

“Okay.” You sound so obedient suddenly as you wrap your legs around his torso.

He immediately lifts you up without effort, and you smile, letting him carry you toward his room. He’s a super soldier after all. He closes the door with his foot as soon as you’re inside, then he gently puts you on the bed, like he’s afraid you might break. The way he’s acting is so endearing, but you want him to let go really badly. Even the manner he starts to take off your pants is too gentle.

You let him undress you the way he wants, though. Then you move closer to him, taking his clothes off, your movements not as gentle as his. You are impatient and needy. You see him holding his breath when you reach to touch his chest, close to where his metal arm begins, so you lean in to leave a kiss right there. You don’t know if you are crossing a line, but you have to. He should know that this is not something that would bother you, on the contrary, it turns you on even more. When he doesn’t move away from you, you keep kissing around his scars and his chest. Your hand is on his shoulder, gently caressing.

“That feels so good, doll,” he says with a sigh before he grabs your waist. “but it's time for me to eat.”

You find yourself on your back so suddenly that you don’t even have time to react. He quickly settles between your legs and you understand exactly what he meant. He lifts them enough so you can rest them on his shoulders as he gets more comfortable on his tummy. You feel a hole in your stomach immediately. You can’t believe Bucky is between your thighs, about to eat you out.

He’s taking his sweet time at first, kissing down your thighs and even smelling you before he finally brings his tongue to your entrance.

“Come on, James. Don’t tease me.” You look down just to see him smiling.

“Why not? You seem to enjoy it.”

“I would enjoy it more if you stopped teasing and started eating.”

Surprisingly, Bucky doesn’t waste more time and properly starts to fuck you with his tongue. He’s not too quick, nor too slow with his moves, and you’re shocked when he brings his fingers to your mouth.

“Need you to make them wet for me, please.” Even while saying that, he sounded a little too polite.

“On one condition,” you say, looking directly into his eyes. “Stop acting like I am made of glass.”

“But you kinda are.”

“I am not. Believe me.”

He says nothing, making sure to lick your slit before getting his tongue inside you again, his fingers, glued to your lips. You take it as a silent agreement and you open your mouth, suck his fingers, and let him wet them. When he thinks it’s enough, he gently takes them out and brings them right to your clit. He doesn’t touch it directly at first, teasing around it until you move your hips a little, needing to feel your clit stimulated.

“Please.” The way he’s taking his sweet time is so frustrating.

He lets his hand drop and instead of feeling his fingers on your clit, you feel his tongue at the same time he gets a finger inside you. You moan loudly, finally getting what you wanted from the start.

His other hand reaches for yours when he hears you grabbing the sheet, and you immediately hold it, enjoying how his cold metal feels. When you feel the second finger and he scissors both of them inside you, you’re shocked by how close you suddenly are. You can’t help but arch your back and move your hips, needing it faster.

He reads the signals pretty quickly and lets you use his mouth while he keeps pumping his fingers. It doesn’t take long for you to gasp, moan, and start to shake because of the pleasure he’s giving you.

“James! Shit. I’m- gonna… ahh… come.”

You moan louder than you expected, dropping your head against his sheets, possessed by a great wave of pleasure. You want to tell him not to stop anything, but you can’t. And you don’t need to as he keeps licking and fingering you while you ride your orgasm out, prolonging it as much as possible.

When it’s done, you are feeling so good yet you are hungry for more. You raise your head a little and see Bucky still between your legs, but this time his beard is covered with your slick. He looks so handsome. His blue eyes are shining and his hair is all messy. It makes you wanna kiss him and that’s exactly what you do. You reach down to him, and he meets you in the middle, kissing you the way he was just eating you out: with passion and hunger.

He’s less gentle than before as you feel his hands grabbing your breasts, but it’s still not enough. You cover his hands with yours and push him to grab them harder than before. You let out a muffled moan while kissing him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You find yourself blushing like you two aren’t having sex. To mask your reaction, you reach out to his hard cock, gently grabbing it.

“Oh god,” he groans as he instinctively squeeze your breasts harder.

“Mhmm, yes.” You lean into his touch. “Just like that.”

Bucky looks at you as if you said something shocking. Is he not used to communicating during sex?

“What? Did I do something wrong?”

“You’re surprising me for someone so delicate.”

“I told you, I am not.”

He smiles. “Do you wanna help me put on a condom then?”

“I would love to, but…” You smile. “What if I told you I am clean and on the pill?”

“Fuck, I need you.” He kisses you suddenly. “Now.”

“I am right here.” It sounds so calming. “You can take me however you want.”

You’re not only on your back in the next second, but you also have his cock lined up at your entrance.

“Jesus, doll! For a pretty little thing, you’re quite nasty.”

“I just know what I want.” And this is it.

He nods, wrapping your legs around his ass at the same time he pushes inside you. In a second, your head is thrown back while you moan loudly. The way he fills you is so delicious. It makes you feel so full but not uncomfortable.

“You’re taking me so well already.”

“Please…” You raise your hips to create more friction. “Please, move.”

He brings his mouth to your breast a little before he starts thrusting, making sure to leave a small hickey right on top of it. It hurts so good, and you moan without holding back. It is music to Bucky’s ears. He just wants to hear it again, so he does it again.

“You want it rough, don’t you?” He thrusts harder than before. “You’re so needy.”

“Yeah.” Your voice is so shaky already. “I told you already.”

“Told me what?” He teases. “I don’t remember.”

“That I am not made of glass.”

“No, you are made for me.” He brings his hand to your face to move the hair strands that cover your eyes. “For my cock.”

“In that case…” You don’t know where the sudden rush of confidence comes from. “You are made for me. To fill me up.” You move your hips again, trying to fuck yourself on him.

“Oh, god. You’re so fucking wet,” he moans. “I am, I’m gonna fill you up so much.” He kisses you suddenly, your teeth almost crashing together because of the thrusts, but you don’t care.

“Can’t wait.” You tease him. “Don’t hold back, okay?”

He says nothing, letting his head drop a little so he can suck on your neck properly. He’s definitely fucking you harder. He pulls until he’s almost completely out of you before thrusting inside you again. And again. And again. It takes your breath away. The way it makes you feel is indescribable. You lose the little remaining control you had and just turn into a moaning mess.

“Say my name, baby. C-come on.”

“James?” You sound hesitant even if you don’t mean to because you don’t know which name he wants to hear.

“Again,” he begs, his metal arm on your leg pushing it right against his ass.

“James!” This one comes out so naturally. No questions, no hesitation. You just breathe out his name with a moan.

“God, you look so beautiful. So pretty with my cock inside you.” His thrusts get faster, and you have no idea how he can speak so well while you’re a mess.

“I’m so close,” you can barely say without taking a breath in the middle of the sentence.

“What do you want?”

“Just… harder.”

“Like this?” He asks, suddenly thrusting a little harder than before. “Or like this?”

“This! Yes! Just like this!”

“You just want it hard.” He whispers against your ear. “What a dirty girl.”

You hear him, but you can’t respond. You are too busy coming all over his cock, and it feels like you are in heaven. He continues to fuck you as the pleasure fades away, murmuring how pretty you are and how good you make him feel before he comes, too, grabbing the bedpost behind you with his metal arm. It makes a clicking sound, but you don’t care, opening your still foggy eyes just to watch him.

There’s so much come. You can already feel it dripping out of you as he keeps fucking you. You expect it to end soon, but it doesn’t. It goes on and on. The way he loses control as he comes just triggers another orgasm out of you. You would be surprised how quickly you could come again if it didn’t feel overwhelmingly good. You can’t think about anything other than him and the way he makes you feel.

His come is getting all over your thighs and ass, and the bed, as he moans. “Kakaya khoroshaya devochka.” What a good girl.

You can’t help but laugh despite not understanding a word of what he says. “Is that Russian?”

He opens his eyes, and the blue you love is almost completely grey. “Yes.” He sounds confused, too.

“What does it mean?” Your afterglow can’t overshadow your curiosity. “If you don’t tell me, this isn’t happening again.” You try to make it obvious you aren’t serious with your playful tone. Especially not after those orgasms.

“Look at you, little and feisty, blackmailing me.” He chuckles before leaving a kiss on your lips. “I told you what a good girl you are. I didn’t realize I spoke in Russian.”

You laugh a little. “Say it again.” You give him the cutest look. “Please?”

“Ty moya khoroshaya devochka.” He repeats softly. You’re my good girl.

You don’t even realize how content you look as you keep smiling.

“Now, I can get used to that.”

“Say my name again, please.”

You love the neediness in his voice. “James?” You tilt your head a little. “Or would you prefer Bucky?”

“Fuck, it doesn’t matter.” His thumb is suddenly on your lips. “I can get used to that, too.”

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ohdeerfully · 2 months

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K hear me out, a wife! Reader x Alastor and Charlie finds out they had a kid when they were alive. (I don’t mind what the kids name is but make them young and passed due to Spanish flu, dark I know)

omg this has been sitting in my drafts so long, i love requests like this </3 im sorry if it seems rushed, i really wanted to finish it!

Mourning Dove

Alastor x Reader (angst, slight comfort at end) TW: CHILD DEATH, child sickness, reader referred to as a woman but doesnt effect story too much join my discord! ═══ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ═══

You sat yourself unceremoniously at the bar in the hotel lobby, shoulders slouched and cheek squished against the cold countertop. You weren’t one for alcohol, but you didn’t mind the company of Husk. He didn’t say much unless prompted, but that didn’t bother you. It was nice, honestly, after a day of dealing with the others.

“Somethin’ the matter?” Okay. Nevermind about him not saying much.

“Hmm?” You responded, barely peeking up from your finger that dragged patterns in the surface you laid against. “I’m good.”

“You don’t look it,” Husk observed, and you knew he was referring to the discoloration of your eyes and the residual dampness of your cheeks from crying. Your hair was a mess, too. Yeah, you looked like shit. “Tough day?”

“I guess, yeah,” You sighed, pushing yourself up and leaning back in a stretch while your fingers gripped the countertop to steady yourself. “Just thinking about… Y’know.”

He didn’t pry, and you were thankful for that. Husk did know a little, actually, and knew better than to push for more details. After being stuck with Alastor for so long, with the guy owning his soul and all, he inevitably learned some deep shit about him and, by extension, you. He just grunted in response and went back to spot cleaning his bottles of booze.

“(Y/N)!” A chipper voice called your name, and you squeezed your eyes shut in frustration. You thought you were done with all of this for the day, and you were so ready to just go to sleep. “I wanted everybody to join me for dinner today! We have a few new residents, so I want everybody to meet each other.”

You squeezed your lips to prevent a harsh word from responding to Charlie’s invitation. You were so tired. You feigned a weak smile and looked at her. You wanted to say no, to say you needed to sleep, but those huge, pleading eyes of hers caught the rejection in your throat. You tried to reason with yourself that Charlie doesn’t host stuff like this very often. It would just be one night. You’ll survive.

“Okay.”

She clasped her hands together and jumped on the balls of her feet, thanked you, and took off to find the next resident to invite. You held your head against your hand and you sighed dramatically. Husk looked at you from the corner of his eye, but opted to remain silent. You stood up after a few more minutes of quiet sulking, deciding you should fix yourself up for dinner.

In your room, you gently fixed your hair and threw on a casual outfit. Nothing super nice, just in case food started flying–knowing the antics of some of the hotel residents, it wouldn’t be a surprise.

You slowly made your way to the banquet room, which Charlie had installed for events like today. You could already hear the low murmur of small talk, and you were surprised to see a few new faces. Not a whole lot, just about five, alongside the familiar faces of your friends. Charlie’s hotel was, slowly but surely, becoming more successful.

You spotted Alastor quickly–he was hard to miss due to his height. You settled yourself in a chair next to him at a long table that Charlie had dragged into the room for everybody to sit at. You felt your skin prickle with the familiar sensation of static, which increased slightly as his attention turned towards you. He gave you a grin before focusing his eyes on the racket that was already picking up. You watched his smile curl, a bit sinister, as the sound of shouting caught your attention.

“-my fuckin’ business!” You picked up the tail end of Angel Dust fuming at Vaggie, one pair of arms crossed under his chest. He had a third hand on his hip, with his fourth hand jabbing an accusatory point at the woman in front of him.

“Guys, please!” Charlie pleaded, pressing her shoulder against Vaggie’s in an attempt to move her away from Angel. “I don’t want to scare my new guests away!”

“Tell this bitch to keep her nose outta my shit! I can’t have my fuckin’ life on the line because she doesn’t like my job!” Angel spat. There was a dangerous, maybe even frantic, look in his eyes. Before Charlie could say anything, Angel had spun around and stormed to the table. He ripped the chair out and slammed his body down. All four of his arms were crossed now as he glowered at the wooden tabletop.

You sighed, and felt a headache already forming.

Angel’s spirits quickly changed when Husk sulked into the room. He had his paws stuffed in his pockets, and glared at the air in front of him. He sat down at the other end of the table, but Angel was quick to stand up and saunter his way over to sit next to the cat. You couldn’t quite catch the flirtatious remarks that made Husk roll his eyes.

You observed them for a while, watching as Husk slowly grew more comfortable in the small talk he and Angel shared. He would never admit it, but you knew Husk didn’t hate Angel’s company. Husk seemingly said something about you to Angel that made him whip his head up to look at you. You quickly averted your gaze.

Charlie had been standing by her own chair, and a cough from her throat made the chatter die down. You didn’t really listen to the overly sappy speech she had started to give, your mind drifting away in absent thought. You picked your nails into the edge of the table, fidgeting with the light cloth.

Alastor caught your attention by lightly nudging his leg against yours. You trailed your eyes up to his, meeting his red gaze. There was a hint of worry in his eyes, and his grin twitched at the edges as he looked at your exhausted face. He tilted his head in a silent question.

You merely shook your head in response, and mouthed a quick “it’s nothing” and hoped that he wouldn’t press. He didn’t, but you knew he’d ask again in a private room.

Charlie sat down again, and Vaggie rubbed her shoulder, murmuring a silent praise. You dragged your eyes across the table, making note of the handful of new faces. None of them seemed to take Charlie very seriously, but that didn’t come as a surprise. They probably just liked free food.

The food in question seemingly materialized out of nowhere, and you chalked it up to her “princess of hell” type powers that she didn’t use very often. You smiled gratefully and, though you didn’t have much of an appetite, you started slowly picking at the plate in front of you.

The room once again began to rumble with small talk, but at some point the multiple conversations began to melt together until the whole table was talking to each other in one. Charlie was doing most of the heavy lifting with keeping the conversation going.

“-the deal with the Radio Demon and that gal next to him?” You perked your ears when you heard this reference to yourself. One of the new guests, some sort of lizard demon, had a finger pointed at the two of you. He had a slight country drawl in his voice. You saw Alastor’s smile widen when the attention of the table turned towards himself.

“My darling wife,” Alastor stated simply, briefly placing a hand on your shoulder. His eyes were closed as he smiled proudly. You silently nodded with a light, polite smiling. “We knew each other in life. It’s only natural for us to remain together. It would have been a shame for death to do us part.”

“Didn’t think you was the type…” The lizard said slowly, eyeing the two of you carefully. You didn’t blame him; what kind of nut job would marry the Radio Demon? Though, as Alastor said, you were married before Hell, and he wasn’t so… infamous back then. He was actually rather sweet, besides the whole serial killer thing–which, in your defense, you weren’t even aware of till he was shot to death.

“Didn’t think ya were the type to have a kid, either,” Angel piped up absently, one arm thrown lazily over the back of his chair. You watched as Husk tried desperately to shut him up as he continued to speak, but you barely heard the words over the sound of your heart picking up pace, and the increased radio frequency of Alastor’s. His body had stiffened and his eyes had shot open, quickly narrowing as his smile strained and curled dangerously, his gums visible in a snarl. His eyes were not on Angel, but on Husk, whose ears were flattened against his head and a nervous look in his wide eyes.

You weren’t really paying attention though, but you felt the intense tension and rapid prickling on your skin. Your breathing became more labored and you pointed your face to the table to try to hide the building tears in your eyes. You had tried so hard, all day, to push back the memories that kept threatening to resurface. What are the chances that on the same day, the topic was brought up, destroying the wall you had built to contain the anxiety, regret, grief…

You were kneeling by the wrinkled, messy sheets of the twin bed your son had been in for the past couple days. Your heart was tight, and you could barely breathe as you looked at him. He gazed blearily at the ceiling, following the path of the rocking fan. Every breath he took scratched at his throat, as if there were pebbles blocking the path. He barely had the strength to cough. His lips were dry and cracked, and his graying skin still had a flush of fever. You used a damp rag to clean the dried snot under his nose.

You had tried everything. Every recommended antibiotic, every treatment, therapy, exercise; nothing had worked. Nobody knew how to treat the illness. You had even tried to work with witch doctors that Alastor knew. You had spent so much of what little money you had trying to save your little boy.

Alastor was often gone during this time, being the one to go out and find something new to try. You never left the room, even when your husband tried to push you to go outside to stretch your legs or take a shower. He promised to watch over your son. But you just couldn’t, not with David laying on these dirty sheets, looking so frail, weak, and small. You had often called him little dove, and it made you sick to think that your nickname was now like a cruel adjective to describe his current state. A sick, frail baby bird. He had barely eaten in the past eight days, and you didn’t want to admit to yourself that any scratchy breath he took could be that last one.

You stiffened when his head rolled over towards you, and his eyes struggled to focus on you. His cracked lips grimaced for a moment, followed by a sharp, grating cough that made your heart drop and your eyes sting. You reached a shaky hand forward to smooth down his knotted hair.

“Am I going to be okay,” David said weakly. His voice caught on the tightness in his throat multiple times. “I feel really bad.”

“I know baby, but you’re okay,” You said tenderly, continuing to stroke his hair. “Your dad is getting you some new medicine. You’ll be okay.”

You were lying to him, and to yourself. But you couldn’t help but cling on to a morsel of hope–it was all you could do, really. David just looked towards you, his eyes flicking around slightly, unable to truly focus on anything.

“I’m tired.” He said. His breathing was labored.

“I know.”

Your emotions threatened to spill from your eyes as you watched him turn his head back towards the ceiling, eyes shutting. You didn’t want to cry; you couldn’t, not in front of him. You needed to stay strong for him.

You pressed the back of your hand to his burning forehead, and then trailed your hand to his chest, lightly pressing against him to feel his heartbeat. It was slow, and slowing. Your own heart picked up in response.

You heard the door in another room open, shut, and footsteps quickly pace towards the room. The door cracked lightly, and the tall, thin frame of your husband peeked in. He held a brown back tightly in his fist. With one look into your eyes, he knew something was wrong. Or, well, more wrong than usual.

You clenched your jaw to prevent any sob from escaping your lips as he sat the bag down on an end table and kneeled next to you, gripping your waist tightly as he looked at David. The boy’s breath had gotten dangerously quiet.

You watched as his eyes opened again.

“I’m tired.” He repeated, weaker this time.

Both you and Alastor leaned towards the bed, his hand on David’s leg as you gingerly lifted the boy’s head into your arms, pulling his light body towards yourself. You shifted yourself up into the bed with him, trying to wrap as much of yourself around your son as possible. You could feel his heartbeat getting slower with every weak breath he took.

“Sleep, then,” your voice trembled. You felt Alastor grip your shoulder, his other hand softly rubbing David’s arm. You couldn’t describe the expression on his face. “I’ll see you in the morning, little dove.” You lied.

“In heaven?” He responded. Your breath hitched at his words. He knew, somehow, that he was dying. How sick it was, for such a young boy to be aware of his impending death. How cruel God was.

“Yeah, I promise,” Was all you could muster. You worried that any more would destroy the dam that held back your tears.

It broke, though, when you felt David’s heart finally stop. You choked on a sob once, twice, before finally you started wailing. Screaming. You held a vice-like grip on the boy, both your arms and legs secured around him. Alastor was still quiet, but he had sat across from you on the bed and pulled you towards him, securing you and David’s still-warm body in an equally tight grip. You could feel his strained breathing and tight jaw against your head. He said something, but you didn’t hear him.

Your mind rushed back to the present when you felt a hand on your back. Your head whipped towards Alastor, who was looking at you. The table was dead silent, and there was still a look of rage in his eyes, but his smile held a softness that was only ever given to you. Your heart still beat strongly, and you struggled to breathe, but you were at least glad that your mind was still back in the present.

Evidently, barely any time had passed. Angel had a nervous look in his expression, which he tried and failed to mask as Husk cursed at him. Charlie was looking at you in worry.

“(Y/N),” She said softly. “...How come you never-”

“Truly, there is no point in speaking of life before death,” Alastor interrupted her, the usual cheer in his voice lilted by a masked emotion. You knew he felt the same grief as you, but he was a million times better at acting naturally. “What a waste of time and emotion.”

Alastor stood quickly, his hand trailing against your shoulders as he walked past you and towards Angel and Husk. Husk’s ears flattened to his skull again as Alastor loomed over them, hands behind his back as a smile twisted his features.

“Husker, my friend,” He said, the cat demon visibly flinching at the mention of his name. “Let’s take a walk.”

Husk didn’t move, and the room grew heavy with tension with every second as the sound of radio frequency got louder and somehow sharper. Alastor bent at the waist, his snarling smile inches away from the panicked expression on Husk’s face.

“Is the tomcat getting too old to hear?” You barely picked up Alastor’s words, but you definitely heard the threatening tone in his voice.

The cat swallowed hard before standing up. He shot one last infuriated look at Angel, before whipping his head back to attention when Alastor tapped his cane against the ground impatiently. The two of them left the room, and the tension in the air immediately lifted when the door shut.

Charlie startled you when she placed a delicate hand on your upper arm, and she guided you to your feet and out another set of doors. A weak smile touched her expression.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked as you both went up the stairs towards your hotel room. You shook your head silently at her offer. She only nodded back, and said nothing more. She opened the door to your room for you, and waited till you settled down in your bed before saying a string of comforting words that you didn’t really pay attention to. The door clicked softly, and you once again began to sob.

Only a few minutes passed before you felt your skin prickle with a static-like feeling. You had grown to find comfort in the odd sensation, and felt incredibly relieved when you knew Alastor was sitting next to you. You didn’t even hear him enter the room.

He pulled you wordlessly against his chest, lying the two of you down. You twisted yourself in his grip till your ear rested against him, listening to the odd drum of what you assumed was a heart.

“Has David been troubling you all day?” He asked you when your sobs slowed and you caught your breath. You nodded. Alastor rubbed a soothing hand on your shoulder blade. You recognized the tone of grief in his voice as he spoke. “What a pesky boy, even all these years later.”

You wrapped your arms tightly around Alastor’s neck as tears began flowing again.

Though you would never tell him, you often hoped Charlie’s idea of redemption would work. Your husband himself would likely never follow that path; you knew he saw no point and enjoyed the power he held in Hell. But, you wished every day to see your son again. To see your little dove.

You had promised him.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #angst #TW: child death #child death #ohdeerfully

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saetoru · 10 months

Text

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。MAD — AL-HAITHAM.

contents. alcohols consumption (drunk! al-haitham), post argument, fluff, ft. kaveh a real one for dragging home a heavy ass muscle man

al-haitham is good at holding his alcohol—at least, he is unless you’re in the middle of an argument. if you’re both arguing, then he seems much less likely to stay sober.

tonight for example—you open your bedroom door when kaveh (not so quietly) awakens you with his incessant knocking, grumbling under your breath as you reach for the door knob and twist. before you can even fully open the door, a very drunk and very heavy al-haitham is handed to you to hold steady.

“here, he’s your headache now,” kaveh huffs, crossing his arms, “i was supposed to be the heavy drinker of tonight,” he glares at al-haitham (who doesn’t help himself any further when he glares right back), “my day was far more stressful.”

“what draft are you on with this client?” you ask sympathetically.

kaveh flares his nostrils as he grumbles, “six!”

“maybe seven will be the charm,” you hum, chuckling, “i’ll get this headache of mine to bed.”

“please do,” he nods, “and i wish a terrible hangover on him in the morning too.”

with that, the door is shut, and you hear kaveh walk off and slam his as he grumbles some more about the drunk mess in your arms. at least you and kaveh have that much in common tonight—a shared irritation for the akademiya’s ever so charming scribe.

(truthfully, it’s hardly an accurate description at the moment—al-haitham’s charms are currently little to none after earlier.)

“you’re not doing yourself favors,” you turn your attention to you boyfriend, who stumbles a little as he buries his head into your neck. it’s a tad bit adorable—but then you remember the know-it-all attitude from earlier and decide you’re mad again. “disrupting my sleep for your lightweight habits isn’t a good way to apologize.”

“not a lightweight,” he slurs—and then he pulls away and pouts, “still mad?”

“yes.”

“are you sure?”

“very.”

“‘s not nice,” he huffs, burying his face back into your neck.

you can feel the way his lips are curled into a pout as they kiss your neck, and even though you’d like to say you have better self control, you can’t help but wrap your arms around him. it’s just to keep him from falling, you reason—just because you’re mad at him doesn’t mean you want him to potentially fall and break something, and that would only mean taking care of him more, which you do not need right now.

“you know what else wasn’t nice? telling me i’m wrong when i’m right,” you huff, “and then arguing that i’m wrong even though you know i’m right.”

“said i was sorry,” he almost whines—drunk al-haitham has at least a few perks. one of them is how much more affectionate he is, peppering kisses along your jaw until he finds your cheek. “you’re soft,” he hums, “love you.”

“you smell like beer. go to bed,” you grunt, trying (and failing) to pull away and guide him to the bed. you don’t make it two steps before he’s latched back to your body.

“say it back,” he gasps, “say it.”

“al-haitham,” you groan, “you can’t be serious—”

“haitham,” he corrects, “supposed to call me haitham.”

“would you like to sleep on the couch, haitham?” you ask with a dry smile on your face, eyes narrowed as he shakes his head. he tucks it into the crook of your neck, sighing happily as he inhales your scent.

“no, ‘s not good f’my back.”

“your back is the least of your concerns right now,” you mumble bitterly. “okay, let’s get you undressed.”

“you’re not mad?” he brightens up immediately at your words, taking them entirely out of context. his lips lean in to press against yours as his hands snake under your shirt, making you huff and slap his hands away as you turn your head and force his lips to meet your cheek.

“oh, i’m still very mad. don’t even think you’re getting anything tonight,” you scold.

for the nth time tonight, he pouts. and truthfully, you’re only human at the end of the day. if the akademiya’s usually stoic and composed scribe—who happens to be your equally as stoic and composed boyfriend—seems to pout this many times in one night….well, it would make anyone’s resolve crumble. even someone who’s angry after an argument—someone much like you.

“you’re a lot cuter when you’re drunk, you know that?” you giggle, poking his cheek lightly. he hums, nuzzling the tip of his nose against your skin as he leans more weight into you.

“aren’t i always cute?”

“not when you’re stubborn.”

“‘m cute,” he argues, “y’think ‘m cute, right?”

“no,” you grin, just to tease him. it’s a bit fun—pulling those wide eyes and curled lips from him, pulling that slightly crestfallen look that only a drunk al-haitham would let you witness.

it’s not too mean to let yourself indulge in this just once, is it?

“don’t be rude,” he slurs, “love you. say it back?”

“say please,” you tease, chuckling as your fingers thread through his hair.

he seems to brighten when you offer him a bit of affection, leaning into your touch as he sighs happily. “please,” he says politely, pressing a kiss to your skin before adding, “‘m sorry,” for good measure.

“how sorry?”

you plan on dragging this out for as long as you can—is it morally correct to take advantage of your drunk boyfriend? perhaps not….but no one is perfect, and you’re no exception.

“really sorry,” he mumbles, squeezing your hips.

“sorry enough to do the dishes for the week?”

“mhm,” he nods.

“kaveh’s too,” you add, with a satisfied grin on your face.

he nods, mumbling a quiet, “okay. kaveh’s too,” without question.

“how much do you love me?”

“a lot,” he says slowly, and by now, he’s leaning enough weight in you that you can tell he’ll fall asleep any moment. so you chuckle, pulling him along slowly before letting his body hit the mattress.

“this is my side of the bed,” you mutter with a roll of your eyes, but he doesn’t seem to hear you as he closes his eyes and sighs when your hand cups his cheek and rubs the warm, flushed skin. “do you love me more than you love being right?”

“mhm,” he hums, half awake as his eyes droop, “say it back now.”

“i love you too,” you finally crack, leaning in and kissing his lips briefly, “even if you’re rude and impossible.”

“‘m still cute,” he rebuttals, “right?”

“oh yes,” you giggle, “the cutest.”

“good,” he nods. and then his eyes close, and he’s snoring lightly, cheek still pressed against your hand.

you’re supposed to be mad, maybe even give him the silent treatment for a bit—but then you watch him sleep peacefully, the smallest of smiles pulling at his lips when your fingers thread through the sweaty locks of hair. regretfully, you can’t stay mad, not when it’s al-haitham—and especially not when it’s drunk al-haitham.

“you’re such a headache,” you mumble, kissing his forehead before joining him on the bed and tucking into his side.

and when he wakes up in the morning, with what is hopefully the awful hangover kaveh wished upon him, you’ll make sure to remind him of his agreement to do the dishes. kaveh’s too.

if u try to tell me al-haitham isn’t a clingy and affectionate drunk, ur wrong. he’s so babie after he drinks

#teepods.writings #drabbles.#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham fluff #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader

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bigfatbimbo · 3 months

Note

luci with a s/o twice his size, he asked for no pickles type

a/n — If i had a nickle for every time I got a request like this, I’d have two nickels.

If you guys have a size kink just say you have a size kink oh my gosh!

Anyways take some headcanons—

So let’s start by saying Lucifer would absolutely love this. He would be asking for cuddles like every second of the day.

Like, anytime he could, he would be in your arms, on your lap, hell, even on your shoulders.

I do think he would be a little embarrassed to straight ask for things like that though like cuddles are one thing but you might need to just scoop him up yourself.

He would be so cute and blushy about it. Depending on his mood he would have two different reactions.

Either he would giggle and kick his feet and make a “Didn't see you there!” joke before cuddling into your arms.

Or, as I said in that other post about Lucifer’s height, he would pout and whine about how “You should treat the king of hell with more dignity!”

Throw him over your shoulder too, he’ll kick his feet and pound his hands on your back like “This isn’t funny, let me down!”

As for the ‘he asked for no pickles’ thing. Oh yeah that’s definitely you in the relationship. He doesn’t want to bother anyone! And besides he’d probably make you ask anyway because he secretly loves being taken care of like that.

Absolutely the little spoon. Without a doubt he loves cuddling up against you when you wrap your arms around him.

He’s so small compared you to that it makes him feel so safe and cared for. Like you will just sink into your arms, you won’t even find him.

Sits on your lap and plays with your hair too, probably.

Since you’re so much bigger than him I think the idea of slow dancing would be very funny.

I think he’s used to leading the dance but in this case he would be too short to even spin you. So unless he’s breaking his wings out, that’s not happening.

If you spin him around a couple times and dip him I think that would have him crawling at the walls, like he would be so flustered he’d be incoherent.

Probably goes back to what I said about him liking being manhandled.

I don’t know if you can tell but I’m kinda assuming you meant twice as big as him in stature too.

So if you’re strong, and I mean like visibly strong, I think he would love that so much.

Because he’s strong power wise but there’s something about you having actual muscle like… makes him feel super protected. Which he feels incredibly stupid about because he’s the king of hell so he can protect himself from anything.

Would be surprisingly slick about ways to touch your muscles, like he would highkey be scheming.

Also he would probably like piggy back rides. Definitely would cling to your back while you do random tasks around the house.

But literally only if you two were the only ones there like— He be SO embarrassed if anyone saw that he’d get down immediately, clear his throat awkwardly, pat your shoulder and leave the room

a/n — This has been in my drafts for a long time because I thought it was too similar too my other fic about Lucifer’s height.

But I really want Lucifer content because it’s been a minute since i’ve written for him and I miss him.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel fluff

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physalian · 1 month

Text

What No One Tells you about Writing #3

Opening this up to writing as a whole, because it turns out I have a lot more to say!

Part 1

Part 2

1. You don’t fall in love with your characters immediately

But when you do, it’s a hit of serotonin like no other. I’d been writing a tight cast of characters for my sci-fi series since 2016 and switched over in a bout of writer’s block this year to my new fantasy book. I made it about ⅓ through writing the book going through the motions, unable to visualize what these new characters look like, sound like, or would behave like without a ‘camera’ on them.

Then, all of a sudden, I opened my document to keep on chugging with the first draft, and it clicked. They were no longer faceless elements of my plot, they were my characters and I was excited to see what they could accomplish, rooting for them to succeed. Sometimes, it takes a while, but it does come.

2. Sometimes a smaller edit is better than a massive rewrite

Unless you’re changing the trajectory of your entire plot, or a character’s arc really is unrecoverable, sometimes even a single line of dialogue, a single paragraph of introspection, or a quick exchange between two characters can change everything. If something isn’t working, or your beta readers consistently aren’t jiving with a character you yourself love, try taking a step back, looking at who they are as a person, and boil down what your feedback is telling you and it might demand a simpler fix than you expect.

Tiny details inserted at the right moment can move mountains. Fan theories stand on the backs of these minutiae. One sentence can turn a platonic relationship romantic. One sentence can unravel a fair and just argument. One sentence can fill or open a massive plot hole.

3. Outline? What outline?

Not every book demands weeks upon weeks of prep and worldbuilding. I would argue that jumping right in with only a vague direction in mind gives you a massive advantage: You can’t infodump research you haven’t done. Exposition is forced to come as the plot demands it, because you haven’t designed it yet.

Not every story is simple and straightforward, but even penning the first draft with your vague plan, *then* going back and adding in deeper worldbuilding elements, more thematic details, richer character development, can get you over the writer’s block hurdle and make it far less intimidating to just shut up and write the book.

4. It’s okay to let your characters take the wheel

I’ve seen writing advice that chastises authors who let their characters run wild, off the plan the story has for them. Yeah, doing this can harm your pacing and muddy a strong and consistent arc, but refusing to leave the box of your outline greatly limits your creativity. I do this particularly when writing romantic relationships (and end up like Captain Crunch going Oops! All Gays!).

Did I plan for these two to get together? No, it just happened organically as I wrote them talking, getting closer, getting to know each other better in the circumstances they find themselves in. Was this character meant to be gay? Well, he wasn’t meant to be straight, but you know what, he’d work really well with this other boy over here. None of that would have happened if I was bound and determined to follow my original plan, because my original plan didn’t account for how the story that I want to tell evolves. You aren’t clairvoyant—it’s okay if it didn’t end up where you thought it would.

5. Fight. Scenes. Suck.

Which is crazy because I love fantasy and sci-fi, the actiony-est genres. Some authors love battle scenes and fistfights. It comes naturally to them and I will forever be jealous. I hate fight scenes. I hate blocking and choreographing them. I hate how it doesn’t read like I’m watching a movie. I hate how it could take me hours to write a scene I can read in 5 minutes. I hate that there’s no way around it except to just not write them, or put in the elbow grease and practice.

Whatever your writing kryptonite is, don’t be too hard on yourself. It won’t ever replicate the movie in your head, but our audience isn’t privy to that movie and will be none the wiser of how this didn’t fit your expectations, because it’s probably awesome on its own. It could be a fight scene, sex scene, epic battle, cavalry charge, courtroom argument, car chase—whatever. Be patient, and kind to yourself and it will all come together.

6. Write the scenes you want to write first

And then be prepared to never use them. It can be mighty difficult working backwards from a climax and figuring out how to write the story around it, but if you’re sitting at your laptop staring at your cursor and watching it blink, stuck on a tedious moment that’s necessary but frustrating, go write something exciting. Even if that amazing scene ends up no longer working in the book your story becomes, you still get practice by writing it. Particularly if you hate beginnings or the pressure of a perfect first page is too high, you’re allowed to write any other moment in the book first.

And with that, be prepared to kill your darlings. Not your characters, I mean that one badass line of dialogue living rent free in your head. That epic monologue. That whump scenario for your favorite character. Sometimes it just doesn’t work out anymore, but even if it ends up in the trash, you can always salvage something from it, even if that’s only the knowledge of what not to do in the future.

7. “This is clearly an author insert.” … Yes. It is. Point?

No one likes Mary Sues, because a character who doesn’t struggle or learn to get everything they want in life is uncompelling. The most flagrant author inserts I see aren’t Mary Sues, they’re nerdy, awkward, boring white guys whose world changes to fit their perspective, instead of the other way around—they don’t have anything to say. I’m not the intended audience to relate to these characters and I accept that, but I don’t empathize with the so-called “strong female character” who also doesn’t have flaws or an arc either.

A good author insert? When the author gives their characters pieces of themselves. When the “author insert” struggles and learns and grows and it’s a therapeutic experience just writing these characters thrown into such horrible situations. They feel human when they’re given pieces of a human’s soul. They have real human flaws and idiosyncrasies. I don’t care if the author wrote themselves as the protagonist. I care that this protagonist is entertaining. So if you want to make yourself the hero of your book, go for it! But make sure you look in the mirror and write in your flaws, as much as your strengths.

#writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools #writing a book #writing #writeblr #fantasy #scifi

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wordsnstuff · 2 months

Note

Hey, so i'm working on my first WIP, and i wanted to ask about drafting. When can one consider their first draft done? Does it have to have the goal word count (ie; 100K), or would being about halfway there be considered a good enough first draft, that i can move on to the second and start editing?

Concluding each stage of the writing process

It's difficult to know when a phase of a writing project has concluded and you're ready to focus on a new objective as it's developing. I tend to approach my writing projects with a clear and uniform trajectory, regardless of how diverse my projects can be. This approach allows me to remain focused, thorough, and reassured that I am covering all my bases in an organized fashion. However, it also maintains space for me to be explorative and intuitive when necessary. In regards to word count, I don't think it's entirely relevant unless you're determined to adhere to strict genre conventions. Give your story the space it needs and not an extra inch.

(Optional) Zero Draft

In this phase, you're telling yourself the story. You're doing it quickly, messily, intuitively, and forgivingly. Explore every idea that glows in the dark for you, don't throw anything away or discount any possibility. Exhaust your imagination in this phase so that when you reach the first draft, you know you're making informed decisions.

First Draft

You're crafting the structure and core elements of the story. This is often the phase of discovery. You're becoming acquainted with your characters and how they interact, you're beginning to feel at home in the world and settings you've built, and you're seeing all sides of the conflict as it evolves. The goal here is settle on a beginning, middle, and end point, and by the end of this process you want to know your characters' motivations and relationships inside and out.

Second Draft

Go back quickly through the first draft and address any points where you got stuck, where you compromised for the sake of carrying on to the end, and fill in any apparent blanks. The first time you really iron something out, there will always be a few pesky creases. This is the time to find and flatten them.

Third Draft

This is where you question everything. Identify and scrutinize your decisions, dive into the "curtains are blue" discussions with yourself, and begin to tidy up things like grammar, clumsy dialogue, over-poured descriptions, and dubious vocabulary. Comb through each paragraph and be brutal, prioritizing clarity and intentionality of how you've told the story.

The Read Through

This is the point where I recommend doing three things:

Letting it rest away from you for 1-3 months so that you can return to it with a bit of unfamiliarity and new perspective.

Hand it off to a couple of trusted readers and give them ample time to read, digest, and craft some feedback

Reread the project once all the way through making no changes (although annotations are acceptable)

Fourth Draft

Finishing touches. Vigorously and meticulously scrub and scrape between the lines and imagine giving it to your worst enemy. If you can imagine any mean (but valid) things they could conceive of to say about it, this is the time to grapple with or fix those details.

Additional Resources

Guide to Drafting

Word Count/Productivity Tracker Spreadsheet

Balancing Detail & Development

Writing The First Chapter

Writing The Middle of Your Story

Powering Through The Zero-Draft Phase

Writing The Last Chapter

Chapter Length

Happy drafting,

x Kate

#writing #writeblr #writing advice #authorblr #writing resources #drafting

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thatsdemko · 9 months

Text

feeling better - c.leclerc

masterlist

requested: y(ish)- “Hi! Sorry, can I make a shameless suggestion 🙈🤭 that some more husband Charles content like drought would be fun to say the least, sexy and cute as heck!”

p.s. - to the anon, I’m keeping your request around in my inbox in the event that this is 1. not what you wanted and 2. because I have other husband!charles fics in my drafts similar to drought that I think you might love xx

pairing: husband!charles leclerc x wife!reader

warnings: mentions of periods + oral (m receiving) + not intended for minors

a/n: inspired by @thisismeracing’s beautiful mick fic that I just can’t get out of my head! I’m not entirely proud of this smut! I haven’t wrote anything filthy in so long so I apologize I’m not into my groove, but I just love husband!charles and if anyone has any req’s for husband!charles lmk ;)

this is for all the period havers going thru a tough time rn (believe been there done that last week) xx

“so I’ve been thinking—“

“well that’s never good.”

“can I finish?” well he’s rather sassy today, you think to yourself.

shutting your phone off, you give him your undivided attention, “alright talk.”

Charles rolls his eyes thinking the same thing, those damn hormones of yours had a way of making your words rough on the edge and bitter at the tongue. but he finds it hot, he likes when you get a little grouchy and filled with an edge. it’s rare.

“since you’re not feeling well—“

“I never said I was—“

“ah that’s where you’re wrong.” a smirk tugs at his lips that he tries to contain as he takes the empty seat next to you on the couch, “it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out you’re on your period, and talking to my mother about it was where you failed.”

“well it shouldn’t take my husband that long to figure it out.” you bite back. being married for three years and having dated prior, you’d imagine by now he’d be an expert of knowing when that time of the month came around.

“you want to try again with a different tone?”

“you want to try me, leclerc?”

you stare each other down neither one of you backs down until he rolls his eyes and his shoulders soften, “can I just offer my help? or will you bite my head off?”

“depends,” you tilt your head, “what’s the offer?”

“sex. unless you’re too busy being an asshole then my dick is off the table.”

you let out a laugh that you can’t contain and throw your arms around his neck allowing his hand to wrap up under your shirt. his fingers move up and down your back, you notice his eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets when he discovers you’re not wearing a bra.

“no bra?” he says, but it comes out rather like a question. you watch the wheels turn in his head like it’s his lucky day.

“my boobs are sore.”

“let me take care of that.” he turns in his seat pressing a hard passionate kiss against your lips. you can feel the electricity of the kiss run down your spine and warm your insides up. your cold heart softens under him.

“I’m sorry I was mean—“

“shut up, I love it.” his breath is rigid in between the heat of your bodies against each other and from the sloppy kisses, “I like dirty.”

“it’s going to be a bitch to clean—“

“I’m not talking about that dirty.” he cuts you off. his hands yank your shirt over your head revealing your perky breasts. he stands up from the couch, carefully laying you down against the black leather cushions, “I’m talking about your mouth.”

his hand barely cups one of your breasts. it sends an ache through your body and a shiver down your spine as you try to relax. the look on your face reminds him to go easy, and he does. his mouth wraps around the nipple, tongue ever so ghostly swipes across your flesh.

you gasp at the sensitivity, begging for more of his tongue, “Charles,”

“too much?”

“so good.” you moan into his skin, mouth hovering over the crook of his neck he forgets how to breathe for a second.

“are you sure this is a good idea?” you ask. carefully removing your shorts, you reveal the most unattractive pair of underwear you could be wearing. Charles doesn’t seem to notice or even care, he just nods along pulling out a condom that’s surely useless during this time.

“do you not want to have sex? I thought it would help? does it not? is the internet a liar—“

you rip the condom off his cock and just wrap your mouth around the tip getting him to shut up. his breath hitches, cock drips in precum, your warm tongue swirls, twirls, and slurps up every bit of him.

his ragged breathing fills your ears. your teeth gently press into the skin of his cock earning him to release right into your mouth. he watches you swallow with a smile on your face before leaning yourself back against the couch cushions.

“the internet was right, you girls are incredibly horny.”

“just horny for you,” you whisper wrapping your legs around his hips feeling his cock go straight for your clit.

there was no messing around. he had scoured the internet for hours and knew the best pleasure comes from the clit. and pleasure was all you ever asked for on your period, it’s too bad Mother Nature could never deliver what Charles was giving.

“horny for you, and your big dick.”

he slams into your clit again, a raspy moan exits your lips. you feel yourself coming undone underneath him. your legs shake, head becomes fuzzy until you release against him.

“merde,” he mutters under his breath, “I’ll be right back.” he gets up from the couch, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, he leaves and soon comes back with a towel and a smile.

“you want a hot bath?”

“it’ll only be hot if you’re in there with me.” you reply feeling the rough material against your inner thighs not even daring to look at the mess.

“I’m always down for round two. especially in the tub.”

“well then don’t leave me hanging, let’s go.”

tags: @oconso @xcicix @imsorare @weasleyswizardwheezes-blog @monzabee @lpab @frreyaa @motorsp0rt @lovelytsunoda @smoothopz @jaehyunluvcult @iloveyou3000morgan @lunnnix

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drudyslut · 4 months

Text

— summary: it’s your first year at NC State and you meet football star Rafe Cameron.

— pairing: football star!rafe cameron x cheerleader!reader

— warnings: really none. some language, Rafe is the stereotypical football star, mentions of a party.

— note: this is going to be a mini series! i just need my fix on football!rafe cameron so badly, i couldn’t rush this. also, i did some research on NC State, so some of the places named are actually places on campus at NC State😂

❥ game on — r.c

“Yes mom, i’m going straight to cheer tryouts and then back to my dorm. I have a lot of homework believe it or not”

You sigh, gathering your books and making your way out of the classroom. Your mom had been hounding you since you’d started college, not taking it very well with ‘letting her baby go’ which, you understood, but you wished she’d let up a little.

“Okay honey, you know I just worry about you” your mom says through the phone, making you smile softly and nod your head even though she couldn’t see you.

“I know mom! But I promise i’m okay. I gotta go, getting in the car to go back to my room and change for tryouts. I’ll call you later”

“Okay sweetheart, love you”

“Love you too mom”

You pull the phone from your ear, sighing as you toss it in your car followed by your bag and your books. You settle inside the comfort of your car, running your hands down the sides of the steering wheel and resting your forehead against it.

Your mind was racing, thinking of all of the things that are already happening in your life and questioning whether or not trying out for cheer was even worth it. You’re completely lost in your own thoughts when a knock on your window startles you.

“Shit!” you whisper shout, lifting your head and looking to see who it was. You knit your brow in confusion when you notice a guy you didn’t know standing outside of your car, an annoyingly beautiful smile on his face.

You slightly roll your window down and raising your brow, “Yes?”

He smirks, leaning his arm against your car and bending his head down to speak, “Just noticed you looked stressed. Thought i’d come ask the pretty girl that’s parked beside me if she’s okay?”

You chuckle softly and let your head fall. Was this guy serious right now? “Uh, yeah she’s great” You respond sarcastically, lifting your head slowly, finding his bright blue eyes again.

“You sure? You don’t seem alright”

You mutter a curse under your breath, realizing he wasn’t going to give up unless you gave him something. “Yeah, uh, it’s just my mom, she’s been hounding me every day since I left for college”

He grins, only slightly satisfied with your answer but he continues to press you, “Mhm, just your mom?”

You scoff, “Yup. Look, I don’t even know you, you don’t want my life story, okay? Now if you don’t mind, I have to go get ready for cheer tryouts”

His ears perk up, an amused smirk working its way across his lips, “Cheer tryouts huh? That mean i’ll be seeing more of you then?”

You quirk your brow and chuckle, “Yeah, what’re you some hot shot football player?”

The tone in your voice was sarcastic, but the grin on his face told you he was in fact a football player, making your stomach turn and feel even more annoyed.

“I’m Rafe. Rafe Cameron. Hot shot football player, nice to meet ya…” He trails off, extending his hand out for you to shake and waiting on you to give your name.

“Y/N. Nice to meet you, Rafe”

“What’s wrong with hot shot football players? I’m the best damn quarterback this school has seen, projected to be a top five pick for the NFL draft”

“Nothings wrong with them, just.. Not my type”

Rafe chuckles, leaning himself back against your car and crossing his arms. “Not your type? But you’re a cheerleader? Aren’t we like… Meant to be together?”

You roll your eyes, growing annoyed with him and his banter. “Most definitely not” You pause, turning your key to start the car and lightly placing a hand on his back, trying to shove him away from your car. “Now again, if you don’t mind… I have to go”

He pushes himself off of your car and nods his head at you, “I’ll see ya on the field gorgeous”

“Alright ladies! Welcome to tryouts for the 2024 season. I’m your captain, Natalie, and this is your co-captain, Macie. We only have ten spots available on our squad, so, that being said you must impress us today to claim one of those spots”

You stand in line, glancing around at your competition and smiling softly to yourself. They all look good at best, but you knew you were going to kill it. It was highly unlikely that you didn’t make it, I mean you had only cheered since you were six, you only took eight years of tumbling classes, did competition cheer for three years, and you even packed your already full schedule with dance classes to help better your movements.

You snap your attention back to what was being said, “If you make the team, a roster list will be posted in the Fountain Dining Hall on main campus Friday by five PM. Good luck ladies!”

“Crazy seeing you here” A familiar voice says from behind you, making you turn your head slowly.

You roll your eyes when you see Rafe, dressed in his practice gear, helmet held tightly in one hand while the other firmly gripped at his shoulder pads, that damned smirk on his lips.

“So crazy, almost like I told you an hour ago i’d be here!” You respond sarcastically.

You hear him chuckle, shifting his helmet in his hands and placing his free hand on the back of your arm, making you pull away from his touch.

“Hey, why can’t you just be nice to me? I’m just trying-”

“Cameron, what’re you doing? You still like harassing my cheerleaders?” Natalie says, cutting him off and making his face turn a bright shade of red.

He places a hand over his heart in mock offense, a big toothy grin being flashed toward her, “I’m hurt, Nat. I thought you knew me better than that”

She rolls her eyes, placing a hand on her hip and popping it out, “I do know you, Rafe. So go on, go to your practice and leave my girls alone”

Rafe rolls his eyes, placing a hand on your shoulder and dipping his head down to whisper in your ear, “I’ll see ya round?”

You give him a sarcastic smile, waving your hands at him in a ‘shooing’ motion, “I’m sure you will. Bye now”

He shoves his helmet onto his head, giving you one final glance before he jogs off to the practice field. Your mind was spinning, why did he make you so nervous? Football players were not your type, especially not guys like him. Cocky, so full of themselves, but something about him piqued your interest.

“Alright, next up we have Y/N Y/L/N”

You push Rafe to the back of your mind, taking a deep breath and stepping forward for your tryout.

“Y/N! Hey wait up!”

You’re almost to your car, exhausted from the tryouts, when you hear Rafe’s voice calling for you. You roll your eyes and suck in a sharp breath, turning quickly on your heels to face him.

“Yes, Rafe? What do you need now?”

“Just wanted to walk with you to your car” He says, that damned smirk you’ve grown accustomed to seeing plastered on his face.

You sigh, “Okay? What’s your deal? You know i’m not- You know i’m not interested in you.. Right?”

He adjusts his bag on his shoulder, a small chuckle falling from his lips, “So full of yourself huh? You think i’m interested in you? Pff, I just didn’t want you having to walk alone at night”

You roll your eyes, adjusting your own bag on your shoulder and continuing your walk to your car.

Rafe rushes to your side, his hands grabbing your bag and slinging it over his other shoulder. You open your mouth to protest but he quickly shuts you up.

“Just let me help you out, okay? Stop being so ‘guarded’ or whatever it is you’re trying to be, I just want to be friends”

You roll your eyes and cross your arms around yourself, “Sorry, I just- I don’t typically ‘make friends’ very easily and… And well I have a bad history with football players, so i’m not very trusting toward you”

Rafe nods his head, his blue eyes burning into the side of your head. You keep your focus straight ahead, not wanting to break and make eye contact with him. You liked him, but not in the ‘oh i have a crush’ type of way, but he’d been kind enough so far, and he was beautiful. That much you couldn’t deny.

“I promise you, we’re not all the same. It may seem like it, but we’re not”

You break, turning your head and finding his eyes. You give him a small smile, “I know, I just have a hard time trusting. My last relationship didn’t end so well, and he was a football player, he kind of ruined the hype over y’all for me”

The two of you finally reach your car, you quickly unlock it and open the passenger door, using your hand to signal for him to just toss the bag inside. He drops the bag into the seat and you shut the door, rounding your car and opening the driver side door.

“So, I guess i’ll see ya” You say softly.

You quickly get into your car and shut the door, turning the key and bringing the engine to life. You’re about to put the car in reverse when you hear a knock on your window.

“What’s up?” You ask, staring up at Rafe as he smiles down at you.

“Uh, just wanted to see if you wanted to come to this party tomorrow night? It won’t be anything crazy, just one of my friends birthdays, I think it’d be good for you to get out, have some drinks”

You bring your bottom lip between your teeth, tilting your head to the side as you contemplate the idea.

“I’ll think about it?”

Rafe smiles, letting his head fall before he brings it back up and finds your eyes again, “Cool, cool. Can I give you my number so you can let me know?”

You jokingly roll your eyes, “Sure”

You grab your phone from the top of your bag, handing it to him and watching as he quickly enters his number into it. You hear a small ding come from the pocket of his sweats, narrowing your eyes at him, “Did you just text yourself?” You ask, a small laugh falling from your lips.

He smirks, handing you your phone back and pushing himself off of your car, “I did. Now I can text you instead of waiting around on you to text me”

You can’t contain the laugh that comes from you, you couldn’t lie, you were flattered by his desire to be able to get ahold of you.

“Smart man”

“Goodnight, Y/L/N. Text me when you make it back to your dorm safely?”

“Night, Cameron”

RAFE TAGLIST: @ivy-34 @rafeism @f4ll-for-you @drewstarkeyslut @lizcameron @m-1234 @dilvcv @thewitchesofart @rafesgfxo @unsaidjaelinrose @abbybarnesstuff @itsmytimetoodream @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @r1vrsefx @alexisbaumann2004 @moremaybank @mel119g @rafetopia @rafemotherfuckingcameron @jjmaybankisbae @lexasaurs634 @lyndys @presleyanswrites @carma-fanficaddict @rafescokenostril @madzzz0797 @slytherhoes @jscameron @jjsmarijuana @ijustwanttoreadlols @luversgirl @sugarcoatedstarkey @skyesthebomb @nirvanaissogood @daivny @vhour

rafe masterlist | taglist form | moodboard

#rafe cameron #drew starkey #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron au #football player!rafe #football au #college au #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron brainrot

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buoyant-breeze · 1 year

Note

I think u were sent by the heavens BECAUSE THE HICKEYS/NECK KISSES ONE WAS TOP TIER?? (mwah 😩👌) I WAS PRACTICALLY DYING WHILE READING THEM, CAN U PLEASE DO KAZUHA AND SCARAMOUCHE I WOULD LITTERALLY BUILD A SHRINE FOR YOU 🧎🧎

part one (albedo, thoma, xiao)

authors note ⊱ sorry this took me so long ive had this in my drafts for months (crying)

characters ⊱ kazuha, scaramouche

warnings ⊱ completely safe! enjoy!

rating ⊱ themes of smut, mdni / view discretion advised

kazuha

he thinks neck kisses are sweet, romantic, intimate; all three being things he enjoys. and it also leaves him a little heated, itching with desire

the moment your mouth is over his throat he’s letting out an airy giggle, finding your lips ticklish. he always eagerly tilts his chin up, offering his neck over like it’s nothing, even though it truly isn’t; it’s a very vulnerable place, but perhaps that is why he gives it so easily

but it isn’t long before he gets a little noisy, breathy sighs turning into soft “ah”s, shivering with every wet noise, shaking with every suck

he sometimes bites his lip, but his entire face will always flush a rosy red

and this is certainly one way to get him riled up, but he isn’t really much of a pillow princess unless you order him to be

the moment you start displaying actions like this, he’s seeking you out, too, eager for more, wanting to touch

he’ll brush hair behind your face, cradle your head as you sink your teeth and he gasps, or whine as you press a leg between his thighs

but the best part is when he can find an opening to do the same, bringing one of your arms to his mouth, kissing sensually at your wrist, turning the tables until it’s your throat against his lips

he loves, loves, loves being marked, and is not embarrassed about them

he will be a little shy and blush, but he’s not ashamed of them at all. if anything, he looks a little pleased someone noticed, given he’s pretty proud of you and your relationship with him

scaramouche

the thing about scaramouche + neck kisses is that usually it = biting

and he’s the one biting you most of the time, if you allow it

don’t get it all wrong; it can just as easily be affectionate as it can be erotic. he has a habit of nipping idly at your fingertips and then sucking them, staring up at you through strands of soft hair and pretty lashes, eyes sometimes set into a piercing glare

it’s almost like a ‘stimming’ action: he wants to sink his teeth into your shoulder just to feel it, or to bite up the length of your throat just to fixate on the suction of your skin in his mouth or the marks that he can taste along his tongue; memorizing how it feels, almost desperate

neck kisses on their own, towards him, though: well, he wants to be bitten back

you have to be rough with him. this isn’t some pretty little fairytale where you can make him melt with just an affectionate peck to the throat. no, no. it has to be sensual. you have to work for it.

if you want to leave him gasping and shuddering into you, grasping for you with his fingernails, leaving scratches along your arms, then you have to kiss and suck and bite like he’s your last meal, like you’re trying to seduce him, or else all you’re getting is a blank face and a shrug; he doesn’t respond otherwise

he’s not the type that just will get kissed and then, boom, you have him melting over your lap.

it needs a little more: he needs the depth of the interaction, he needs teeth and he needs tongue, he needs you to suck his skin like you mean it, like you’re trying to eat him alive, in a way that is nearly romantic, and painfully intimate, but in a way that hurts (which is what he wants)

talk dirty to him, rough by his ear, and it adds onto it

mouth at his collarbone with the intensity of someone eating him out, and he’s shaking; dig into his throat, and he’s rocking his hips into yours with a grunted growl between his teeth

and if you’re not leaving hickeys, what’s the point? he wants you to go all in or don’t go for it at all

no one really notices when he has any, since he wears sleeveless turtlenecks, which covers the general hotspots; if anyone did notice, though, he gets unexpectedly angry and grumpy and embarrassed, all at once

#kazuha x reader #kazuha smut #wisteria fragrance #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smut #kazuha fluff #scaramouche fluff #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x gn reader #scaramouche x gn reader #kazuha x gn reader #kunikuzushi x reader #kunikuzushi x gn reader #kunikuzushi smut #kunikuzushi fluff

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justmediocrewriting · 3 months

Text

“White Lace,” {v.s}

Summary: it’s laundry day on the Merry, and ever the gentleman, Sanji offered to take Nami’s place when the navigator explained that she was too exhausted to attend to the chore. Sanji expected to simply find a sore back and pruny fingers by doing so, but instead he found much more…

Or: Sanji finds a pair of your white lace underwear, and you catch him in the middle of washing them, resulting in some tension and embarrassment between the both of you.

Genre: spice (no smut, but dirty thoughts and suggestive themes)

Pairing: Sanji x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Requested: ❌

Warnings: I kinda feel this could fall under voyeurism to an extent, because Sanji does find a pair of your panties and kind of like plays with them, so maybe it does? Idk. Some rather not-so-innocent thoughts from Sanji, sexualization, very slight virginity kink if you squint really hard, panty sniffing, panty licking, sexual tension(ish?), female pronouns and parts mentioned

A/n: so I’ve got roughly 10+ things in my drafts right now but this literally WOULD NOT LEAVE ME ALONE, so I knew I had to write it. I hope you hoes enjoy ❤️ might do a part 2 idkkkk. 18+ under the cut, ye have been warned.

{=================================}

Sanji found comfort in routine. For some, a humdrum life would become quickly boring, but for Sanji repetition was key to his sanity. It was the main reason that Sanji was so fluidly quick in creating a new routine from the first day he’d agreed to set sail with Luffy — that and that it had helped cure the insistent anxiety of being at sea again after so many years of remaining stationary.

Sanji greatly disliked breaking routine unless the situation absolutely called for it; a battle, for example, or in this morning’s case, a beautiful woman asking him for help.

Sanji enjoyed routine, but he enjoyed satisfying women a lot more.

So when Nami had entered the galley, hair mussed and eyes hazy and unfocused with a small basket of laundry perched delicately on her hip, Sanji was quick to abandon the first step of his daily routine (taking inventory of the galley stock) and pluck the basket from her arm.

Nami sighed gratefully and her shoulders slumped with relief.

“Thanks, Sanji.” Nami muttered, voice heavy with exhaustion, and Sanji felt his heart lurch with sympathy. It wasn’t as though he was a stranger to fatigue.

“I spent most of the night drawing the charts to the next few islands. I guess I got so wrapped up in it I just hadn’t noticed how much time had passed.”

Sanji nodded along to her explanation as he gently set the basket of clothes atop the island counter, and in the process he inadvertently let his eyes skim across the articles within. Colors popped against one another, like a cluttered rainbow of pinks, blues, whites, reds, and teals — from what Sanji could see they were mostly shirts.

“Laundry day, aye?” Sanji asked conversationally, tearing his eyes from the basket to smile at Nami. She groaned and brought a hand up to massage the back of her neck as she nodded.

“Yeah. There’s a few of my shirts in there, but it’s mostly (Y/N)’s clothes. She washed mine last week, so I agreed to wash hers this week.”

Sanji frowned and appraised the tired woman before him; it pained him to see a woman like Nami having to work so hard. He’d always felt that life at sea, what with so much to maintain, was far too harsh for a lady — ladies were meant to be spoiled and taken care of, at least in Sanji’s eyes. Nami had chosen a life at sea, and Sanji knew that with this decision she’d long accepted the responsibilities of such, and he had no doubt that Nami could handle it, but if Sanji could do something to help relieve her of some of the work he would.

“I can take care of it for you, if you want.” Sanji said, and Nami’s eyes snapped open. She looked equal parts relieved and panicked by his offer, and she hesitated for a moment before shaking her head.

“No, Sanji, I couldn’t ask that of you. You’ve already got enough on your plate.” Nami murmured, and then, as if it were an afterthought, she added, “we all do.”

Sanji rolled his shoulders in dismissal of her worry. “You’re not asking, love. I’m offering. And I’m not too terribly busy; it’s still early, so I’ll have plenty of time to prep breakfast before Luffy wakes up.”

Nami bit her lip, and she looked minutely closer to accepting the offer, but there was still a hardened hesitation in her eyes. Sanji smiled ever gently at her.

“It’s alright, Nami. Why not go back to your quarters and rest for a bit? I’ll take care of this.”

Finally, Nami sighed and relented to acceptance. With a small but grateful nod, she gave Sanji a tired smile before turning on her heel to exit the galley; before she did so, she placed a manicured hand against the door frame and sent him one last glance.

“Really, Sanji, thank you. Once you’re done washing them you don’t have to worry about hanging them to dry; just come get me and I’ll do that.” And with that Nami breezed from the galley, and Sanji gave a small chuckle at her attempt to take some of the load off of him. Even if it was Nami’s turn to do the laundry as was her responsibility, Sanji wouldn’t allow her to set them to dry — he’d do that himself, as well; and he even set it in his mind that he’d fold them as well.

It wasn’t until Sanji pulled out the first shirt that he began to feel as though he shouldn’t have offered his help; because the fabric in his hand was familiar, and it dawned on him that the majority of the clothes in the basket were yours. It was a detail that Sanji had skimmed by when Nami was explaining the situation, and now the reality of it was hitting him like a ton of bricks.

Sanji’s skin prickled as if he were committing the most atrocious sin, and he had to take a deep breath to calm himself. The shirt in his hand was one of your favorites; you’d worn it a lot, and just looking at the rumpled article supplied Sanji with various memories of you donning it. It looked rather pleasant on you, especially when the hem of it rose slightly to reveal the smallest sliver of skin when you moved in just the right way, and Sanji had to quickly place it back in the basket and take a deep inhale to staunch the blood flowing towards his groin.

Sanji’s attraction to you was something that he vaguely felt might be out of hand; he was a lover of women, yes, but never had he experienced a pull as strong as the one he had towards you. Maybe it was the way innocence practically poured from your aura, or the way your cheeks brightened with any pet name or compliment he offered you, as if such attention was a completely new experience for you — whatever it was, it was highly alluring to Sanji, and he found himself wanting more and more of it – of you – every day.

Sanji flared his nostrils a few more times, every breath deep and steadying, repeatedly telling himself that he wasn’t doing anything wrong and his intentions were of the best, and to get a fucking grip, Sanji. Just wash the clothes and be normal!

As he relocated the basket next to the sink and pulled out a pale yellow shirt Sanji deliberately tried to focus his thoughts on anything other than the fact that he was touching your clothes, that you’d worn them and they’d clung to your skin and more than likely smelled of you, of that wonderful floral perfume that was subtle but nearly overpowering in close proximity — that thought alone had Sanji itching to bring the fabric to his nose and inhale, and he had to quickly turn the faucet on and shove the article beneath the stream of water to avoid doing so.

Piece by piece, mechanically and as empty headed as possible, Sanji soaked and washed the clothes under the stream of water, wringing each article out generously to avoid the chance of mildew. By the time he was half way through the basket, Sanji felt confident that he could get through the process without too much trouble (or too many inappropriate thoughts or southward flowing blood); but that was quickly wiped from his psyche when he mindlessly groped within the basket and laid touch to something soft and small and lacy.

Upon pulling it out to examine it, Sanji was hit with a flush of arousal so strong that it nearly knocked him off his feet; gripped within his fingers, soft and lacy and so, so delicate looking, was a pair of white, sheer panties. Sanji’s entire being short circuited, train of thought screeching to a halt and brain being instead assaulted by a myriad of images — of those sheer white panties clinging to your hips, cupping the swell of your ass in such a tantalizing way, hem resting against your tummy and rising in time with your labored breaths as Sanji picked you apart molecule by molecule —

“Stop,” Sanji hissed to himself, cursing his traitorous dick when it hardened to half mast in his dress pants, twitching in approval with each new image and thought that flashed into his hind brain. Sanji knew he should look away, knew he could stop these reactions if he just put the panties away, abandoned the task and fetched Nami instead to finish it — and though Sanji swore to himself that he wouldn’t do that due to his pride as a gentleman, the deepest part of him knew that he wasn’t going to do it because he was curious, and he was enjoying this, as much as that fact ashamed him.

Panties were one of the most, if not the most, intimate articles of clothing a woman could wear; they covered the sweetest fruit, kept it protected and out of sight, and they constantly shifted and hugged that sensitive pearl beneath. They were precious, and the fact that they belonged to you made them even more so.

Sanji nearly groaned at the thought; he could so clearly see you wearing the panties, see the way they hugged against your pussy, could imagine just how drenched the center would get as he worked you into oblivion with his lips —

Sanji opened the panties and this time, a groan did slip past his lips — because right there, in the center of the bridge of the panties, right where they would cling to your pussy, the fabric was slightly darker, and Sanji’s dick jumped at the sight. The overwhelming urge to shove them against his nose and breathe in the phantom traces of your slick sent alternating waves of arousal and intense shame through Sanji, because that was dirty, these panties were dirty, they were yours and it would be such an abuse of your trust in him if he did something like that — but the longer he stared, the stronger the urge became, and soon enough arousal had completely consumed shame, and Sanji quickly brought the panties to his face, shoving his nose directly into the center and inhaling. Sanji panted heavily against the fabric as the sweet scent entered his nostrils; it was faint, as he’d assumed it would be, but it was there, and it was so much sweeter than Sanji could have ever imagined.

Sanji pressed his hips into the counter as he took in lungfuls of your scent, hissing lowly at the pressure against the straining bulge in his pants, hips moving just so to chase a semblance of friction — consumed by sudden lust and the thought of you, the scent of you, and the urge to taste where you were sweetest, Sanji laved his tongue against the dried patch of slick, moaning haughtily into the softness of your panties.

Sanji’s surroundings and reality seemed to completely melt away as he lost himself within the sensations of smelling and tasting you, something he so longed for — just as much as he longed to corrupt you, to show you all the naughty things he shouldn’t, like he longed to see you wearing these panties, so innocent and white, and see them become forever stained from actions that were too devious and sinful for such a color.

Sanji wanted to stain you — he wanted your innocent little brain to fog over with lust, to see you discombobulate on his cock as he stretched you wide, as he took you to heights you’d never been, watch those beautiful eyes of yours roll back and watch you bare that lovely neck to him, to bite and mark and cover, to claim you, inside and out.

Sanji let out a guttaral groan as his hips picked up speed; the counter was firm and hard against his cock, a far cry from the soft, wet warmth he craved to be buried inside, but it offered friction, and with how hard his cock was, that’s what he needed, even if it was a bit unpleasant.

As consumed as he was by the myriad of sensations stoking his arousal, the soft rapping of knuckles against the wooden doorframe of the galley was almost lost on him; but thankfully, his ears had picked it up, and as if they had burned him, Sanji threw the panties into the sink below him. There was a soft splat against the steel, and Sanji winced as he realized the bridge of the panties had been soaked with his saliva — thankfully, the sound was too faint to be heard from the doorway, and the relief that offered Sanji increased tenfold as he turned to look over his shoulder and caught sight of you.

Sanji’s breath caught in his throat, and nearly all traces of arousal had been chased away by deep-seated shame, and Sanji did his best to smile at you through the guilt.

“Good morning, love. Is there something you need?” Sanji forced his voice to stay calm despite the sheer panic and guilt threatening to weigh it down; Sanji’s heart was thundering within his chest, battering against his ribcage with the force of a raging bull, and he willed his erection to just go away —

But his dick was not cooperating with him, and it stayed rock hard within his pants as you smiled back shyly and began to approach him; as you turned the corner of the island counter, Sanji belatedly realized that you had a small basket tucked under your arm, with a few articles of clothing within.

“Nothing much, Sanji. Nami told me you were helping with the laundry today, and I found these in our room so I thought I’d bring them in and offer you some help—”

Sanji watched with growing dread as you paused just a couple inches from the sink, your eyes zeroing in on the panties within and widening as your mouth dropped into an ‘o’ shape (which did not help with his erection, as his mind went to very shadowy places from the sight), and your cheeks went from normal to beet red in seconds (which also didn’t help, because it was far too pretty of a color on you).

Heavy, awkward silence fell over the galley as you stared, frozen, at the sink — Sanji wanted to look away from you, knew that you were far beyond embarrassed right now and that his staring was certainly not helping, but he simply couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Arousal was still thrumming beneath his skin, and it was like seeing you in a whole new light; knowing that those sweet, innocent, pretty panties belonged to you, that you’d worn them, that they sat snugly against your pussy and became saturated in you, in your innocence, had his dick twitching and fingers itching to pull your body flush against his. He wanted to see you wearing them for him, wanted you to bend over and present to him, so that he could see the outline of your pussy, soaked and ready, through the fabric —

Sanji inhaled sharply and tore his eyes away from you, and part of him wanted to stutter out an apology, beg for your forgiveness — he was being so shameful, sexualizing you objectifying you in the way he was, craving to take away your innocence, something that was so deeply ingrained into who you were —

But the words were stuck in his throat, unable to move past the lump of sheer shame and regret, and even if they could, would Sanji really have the courage to admit what he’d done, let alone apologize for it?

He truly didn’t know if he would.

Sanji’s actions had been so unbecoming, had went against the very essence of his code — but that was just the simple fact of it; you had this effect on him, a tendency to bring out the worst in him. And if Sanji were being honest with himself, he enjoyed it. He secretly loved the fact that you could draw that dormant beast from its slumber, all without even knowing you were doing it.

“Those, um… those are…” to Sanji’s surprise, it was your voice that broke the silence, and though he knew it would only stir him up more, Sanji snapped his eyes to you. You vehemently ignored any eye contact with him, gaze still locked on the sink, and in the blink of an eye with movements that were much faster than Sanji’s fuddled mind could perceive, your hand shot out and you ripped the panties from the sink, throwing them hastily into the basket before resituating it on your hip.

“I’ll w-wash these later,” you mumbled, cheeks still flaming, and Sanji hated the way his dick twitched at the sight. It was such a show of innocent bashfulness that it made Sanji heat from the inside out. Finally, you made the briefest of eye contact with him and gave him a small nod. “Carry on.”

Then you were turning on your heel and swiftly exiting the galley, leaving Sanji alone with his own thoughts, a half empty laundry basket, and a roaring flame of shame and guilt that Sanji didn’t think could ever be doused.

#opla #opla sanji #opla sanji x reader #sanji x reader #op #one piece

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bea-ce · 1 year

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asking your boyfriend to take a bath with you!

characters: alhaitham, childe, diluc, kaeya and kaveh!

genre: fluff

summary: in which you ask your boyfriend if he’d like to take a bath with you!

notes: i’m extremely biased and you might be able to tell, hehe whoops anyways i thought i might give some fluff before i drop some angst that i have in my drafts! (none of you are safe from my angst writing.)

warnings: slightly suggestive in childes and kaeyas part, but other than that it should be safe!

Al Haitham

You’d either have to drag him by his cloak into the bathroom and push him into the bathtub with force to get him to take a bath with you or be lucky enough that he deliberately wants to take a bath with you. He’ll be extremely reluctant the first times you ask to take a bath with him. Not because he’s shy, but just because he doesn’t see the point of it. Eventually he warms up to the idea and it becomes another thing the two of you do together amongst many other things.

“You’re so filthy, you should take a bath. Come now, I’ll take one with you. What? I have to make sure you get properly cleaned off.”

Childe

He’d have a smirk plastered across his face the first time you suggest taking a bath with him and he’d be damned if he didn’t take the opportunity to tease you to the point you’re left with no more retorts to throw straight back at him. He’ll make suggestive comments while you undress and get into the bathtub that’s filled with lukewarm water. You can only smack him as he settles down in front of you. Despite the impure praise he’ll bestow on you while washing your hair, you can sense how much he cares about you and loves you from his actions alone.

“Turn around so I can wash your hair for you, unless you like getting soap into your eyes. Have to make sure you’re well taken care of, right? Can’t have people think I’m not taking proper care of you.”

Diluc

Poor man, he was rendered speechless and defeated from your suggestion alone the first time you had proposed the idea of taking a bath together. The way he blankly stared at you with no response being rendered any time soon had you wave your hands reassuringly that he didn’t have to if the idea made him uncomfortable, you’d be lying though if you were to say that his reaction wasn’t a little bit disappointing for you. Diluc is quick to compose himself as you wave your hands and assures you that he’d love to.

“Is that what you really want? Alright then, sure. I can’t see why I wouldn’t take up on such offer, especially if it’s with you.”

Kaeya

He’s extremely smug about it and won’t stop teasing you by leaving lingering touches and words that only insinuates that he’s out to make you flustered and embarrassed. Despite that he’s quick to agree and get to it by being the one dragging you to the bathroom along with him instead of the other way around like you had intended to.

“Oh my, is that really a proposition? Do you have any other plans while we are taking a bath together? Relax, I’m just kidding. Unless you really want to.”

Kaveh

Ugh, he’s all shy about it- hesitant and tripping over his words at the suggestion of taking a bath with you. He’s quick to agree once he finds himself composed again and checks in every 2 minutes to see if you’re still alright with the idea of taking a bath with him. Of course you are, and a part Kaveh knows that too. But he wants to be sure and leave no space for doubt that you might’ve regretted the proposition. Kaveh is sweet while the two of you take a bath, letting you sit in front of him with your back pressed against his chest as he washes both of your hairs together with one of his products.

“Are you sure that you’re alright with this? Okay, okay, I’m just checking. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, I’d never want to do something you didn’t want to do. I love you too much to do something like that.”

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getitoutofmymindwrites · 2 months

Text

Petrichor. | joel miller x f!reader, 4.1k

Summary: You underestimate yourself but Joel doesn't like what's his to be degrated. Unless, he's the one doing it. He makes sure you know your place.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, allusion to suicidal thoughts BUT it's a misunderstanding, low self esteem!reader, established relationship, unspecified age gap (make it you own😏), dom!Joel, sub!reader, dd/lg vibes, pet names(darlin', baby, sweetheart, little girl, good girl), degradation kink, praise kink, size kink, daddy kink, oral m!receiving, masturbation f!receiving, dacryphilia, pussy slapping (quite a few), cum eating, aftercare, as always let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: First of all, thank you for your love on my little drabble Take me, I didn't expect it at all and I'm so glad you liked it, it really means the world! 🙈 Now, for this fella here, I swear to god it was supposed to be a drabble, I even named its draft as such, because I'm so decisive and steady.😂 I don’t know what happened, it started as a pwp but of course I had to go and pepper it with some feelings.🙄 And then @iamasaddie had a smut fic prompt including “Baby, you know, Daddy only hurts you because you look so pretty when you cry.” line and it fitted so damn well, like Joel's cock fits in reader's pussy, so there's that. 🥵🥵

P.S.: I hate summaries, I hate them, I wish someone else would write them for me. Ok, I love you all, let me know what you think!

Song on repeat: The kooks - Sway

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Maybe this is your favorite sound in the world, you think as you hear the rain drops hit the -floor to ceiling- windows of your loft.

Your mind wanders to your childhood memories searching for confirmation. And you think that, yes, this is it. So, it makes perfect sense that your favorite scent is that of the soaked soil after raining. Petrichor. You smile softly to yourself.

He seems to notice that. But then, he always does.

He’s on his side facing you, all 5’11” of his magnificent naked body laying on your bed, his head resting on the pillow. One hand under your neck, as you lay flat on your back, the other reaching for your jawline, turning you to face him instead of the window.

You turn to him, gladly, because this, this is your favorite sight in the world. Him. The soft glow from the lights outside is the only source of illumination and he couldn’t be more beautiful than right now. He makes your heart ache instantly. His calm and safe presence in your life is such a juxtaposition to the shadows of your past, it brings a lump in your throat. You swallow it down.

“Why the smile, baby?” he speaks carefully, like he feels the antithesis of the emotions inside you right now. And there it is, at last. This is the answer you’re looking for. This, this is your favorite sound in the world. His voice.

Your palm lands on the hand petting your cheek. “No reason,” you smile to him, “just feeling content.”

“Are you, though?” he insists after a minute, “feeling content?”

“I-, yeah, of course I do, you know that.”

“Do I?”

“I hope you do. You know what you mean to me, what your presence in my life means to me, right?” your voice is lightly wavering, the lump in your throat lurking still. “And- and I’m so happy with my job and my new place and everyth-”

“Why did you choose this place?”

“You don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that. From all the places we’ve seen, why this? I saw in your eyes it did something to you.” And if you ever entertained the idea that maybe some things get past him, you do not anymore. You can’t hide from him. And you find that, oddly, liberating.

“Because it’s everything I'm not; I wanted to challenge myself.”

He’s curious now. After all these bits and pieces over these past few months you’re giving him something more. He knows there’s more. “How so?”

“It’s just-”, you roll your eyes in frustration, trying to compare a space to a person, “so open, so bare, no hiding spaces, you know, open floor and everything, I remember when I first walked in it made me feel uneasy, insecure, intimidated. So I rented it.”, you shrug like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Why would you feel all that?”

He raises his head supporting it on his palm as he studies your profile from his side, seeing your struggle, the waterline of your eyes glassing over, the vein on your forehead bulging. There’s so much you want to tell him, confide in him, confess to him, but you don’t know where to begin. How to sum all this shit up.

“I just- I have lived my life without actually living. I just- existed. I compromised, backed down, let myself be led by people who were supposed to be my family and now-” your lips are trembling and you bite your bottom lip to stop it, your throat is closing, you feel this ache, this burning sensation inside of it, like acid through your veins, making you unable to breathe, let alone speak. Your face turns pinkish, the tears threatening to spill now, the sob ready to explode deep from your chest.

“-I just hate myself-” you mouth through an inaudible cry, still deprived of air in your lungs that they feel like they’re gonna collapse.

His legs straddle yours in a moment of panic, his eyes wide, his pupils blown, his body stiff, ready to engage in some kind of fight. He’s leaning above you, his long torso shadows over you, his huge hand cupping the back of your neck and pulls you in a sitting position underneath him. Your hands grab his forearms in confusion. It -he- makes you feel so tiny, which you are compare to him, but even more so, now that his knees are pressing down on the sides of your hips, holding his weight above your lap so he won’t completely crush you, making your body sink deeper into the mattress and suddenly you’re so small, so insignificant, so unnoticed to the rest of the room, of the apartment, of the world. Except from him. His eyes, raging fires, burning yours as they search for meaning, answers, reassurance. His fist is closing and tugging harshly at the hairs on the back of your neck, demanding all of your attention. The tears run freely down your cheeks now on their own volition, years of restrain and pain unleashed in a blink of an eye.

“Tell me I don’t need to fuckin’ worry about you.” he demands in a harsh tone, his expression painted with anger, desperation, agony.

You open your mouth to respond, but you are at loss for words, your thoughts hazy and confused.

“Tell me!” his voice high and urgent, now mirroring his expression, almost breaking.

And you get it now, you really do. The smell of fear, the fear of loss, the loss of existence.

Your eyes widen, your lips trembling again, “No, no!”, you shake your head violently, his grip on your scalp tightening more, in warning. His expression is torn, like the two faces of Janus, his jaw clenched in disbelief, but his eyes pained, begging, pleading for trust.

Your hands fly around his middle, squeezing him, your fingernails nearly tearing his flesh, “I swear Joel, no, that was not what I meant!” you’re desperate now, how could he think that, doesn’t he know what he means to you?

He doesn’t budge, he doesn’t move a muscle, his eyes keep scanning, keep searching. You try to rest your forehead to his stomach now, how massive he is above you and he allows it. His fist unclench from your hair, cupping your neck again tenderly, his mouth kissing the top of your head. Your arms hug him tighter now, pressing your face to his sweaty skin, inhaling his scent, grounding you, your fingers caressing his broad back up and down. “I swear, I swear.” you keep muttering on his skin, your nose deeply pressed against his firm chest now, barely breathing.

He moves both his hands to the sides of your neck, simply holding you and tilting your head up to look at him. He bends forward to touch your lips with his in a soft kiss, just flesh touching flesh. His forehead resting on yours, he sighs deeply, letting all the weight of the world go through his nostrils. “Don’t you ever-”

“I’m sorry Joel, I’m so sorry, that’s not what I meant, I promise.” you apologize, pressing your chin to his skin, looking up at him. But his eyes are still searching, not letting this one go.

“I’m just pissed it took me so long to wake up. I’m scared I fucked my life up. I’m scared I missed my chance. I’m scared-” you shake your head slowly in disappointment as you try to explain and Joel keeps his eyes on you, waiting. He nods, he’s listening, he’s here. He’s got you. “I’m scared I’m so broken; there’s nothing left of me to be loved.” you hide your face back to his chest again.

He holds you tight, whispering at the crown of your head, “There’s so much left my darlin’, so much left. And I’m here to pick each and every piece of you up and mend it back together.” And you know he is. You just don’t know if you’re worth the trouble.

Suddently your senses are so overloaded, you just need something to ground you. Hard. His natural musk mixed with sweat and sex from earlier that night hits your nostrils, his soft now cock practically under your nose, on your lap. And there is another answer for you. This, this is your favorite scent in the world. His scent.

You inhale deeply, your forehead pressing on his skin, feeling the sparse hair of his chest and the steady beating of his heart. “I need you Joel.”

He tugs your hair gently to raise your head and looks at you. Really looks at you.

“What do you need, sweetheart?”, he moves his hands cupping your cheeks softly.

“I need you to punish me.” you plead with your eyes closed, embarrassment creeping in.

His breath is hitching in his throat, his eyes darken immediately, “Yeah?”

“Yeah..”

“Use your manners then and ask for it, properly.”

“Please sir, I need you to take control, put me in my place.” you feel your skin shiver, your core warming up again.

He just stares at you, making your heart flutter.

You can feel him hardening, his heavy cock brushing against your stomach. You go to palm him, stroke him to his full potential but he grabs your hand and swats it away.

“You're asking for two different things sweetheart and that tells me you're in a delicate headspace. So, I am taking control from you and I am not going to punish you.” he settles.

“But I wa-”

He raises his brows “Are you sure you want to finish that sentence, little girl?” and that effectively shuts you up and turns you on. He doesn’t speak again, he doesn’t say anything else, he just puts his hand on your throat, resting it there for a second, observing you and then he’s guiding you down on your back.

He straddles you higher, on your chest, now hard in all his glory. He’s a sight to behold. Naturally imposing, no pretenses, it’s just who he is. From his gaze to the sound of his voice and from the broadness of his shoulders to the thickness of his thighs, he’s all man.

You must look awestruck because he smirks softly. You open your mouth to -actually you don’t know what you want to ask, he just caught you off guard, but he beats you to it, explaining the situation clearly.

“When you disrespect yourself, you disrespect me and I will not have that. I will not, under any circumstances tolerate that kind of behavior. Do you understand that?”

You just lay there, mouth agape, eyes confused.

He slaps your cheek not hard enough to leave a mark but enough to sting a bit, to snap you out of your trance.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. So..” he brushes his thumb over your lips, pushing it in slowly, pressing down your tongue, “I’m gonna fuck some manners into that mouth, baby.” Oh, shit. “From now on, when you’re chocking on your tears, it’s gonna be because of me ramming my cock down your throat like it deserves.”

Your breath hitches at his vulgarity, your pupils are blown wide and your slick is running down your ass cheeks now. You suck around his thumb, your thighs pressing together in need of some friction.

“You like that, you little whore?”, he removes his thumb allowing you to respond.

You don't know where you find the nerve but, “I thought you said no disrespect.” you blurt out, you can’t help it, you want to rile him up.

“Oh, she speaks now!”, he raises his eyebrows in amusement. Or in a challenge, you’re not totally sure if you want to find out.

He breaths a laugh, shaking his head in a mockingly condencending way, “I don’t think you understand your place here little girl, so let me break it to you.”

His eyes are glazed over, some sort of wickedness mirroring in them. “Only I get to call you names. No one else. No one. Do you know why that is?” He leans in and looks above your head, a sign that he’s expecting an answer.

“Nnn- no.”

“Manners.”, he shakes your head, your jaw grabbed between his fingers.

“No, sir.”

He’s nodding his head slowly. “That’s because only daddy knows what you need.” You know there's more coming, so you stay silent.

“So, when I say you’re a whore, what do you say?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And when I say you’re my good girl, what do you say?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And when I say you’re gonna take whatever the fuck I give you, what do you say?”

“Thank you, daddy.”

“Damn right.”, his cock twitches in front of you.

“Please, daddy.” You start whining and squirming underneath him, all needy and wet.

Yes, this is right. He is right. This is how you need it. This is how it should be. If your throat’s gonna hurt and burn and swell it’s gonna be from the invasion of Joel’s cock and not from the insecurities caused from your past.

“Please..” you keep whining.

“Manners, ‘mnot gonna ask again.”, he demands sternly. “And quit your whining, it won't get you anywhere good; got it?”

“Please, sir, let me touch you, pretty please.” you try with a steadier voice.

“Now, now, that’s a good girl right there, hm?” that seems to satisfy him. “Ok, baby, go on.”

Your trembling hands roam slowly all over his chest, then his stomach and the swell of his belly, moving all the way down to his thighs and finally up to the v of where they meet with his pelvis, massaging, caressing and squeezing him softly, circling your fingers around the base of his thick cock.

You're threading them through his pubic hair, your thumbs caressing lightly under him, on his scrotum. He inhales sharply, shivers raising the hairs on his forearms. You press his waist down on you more, resting his weight on you, his warm balls touching your sternum, his hands flat on his thighs.

Joel's eyes are trained on your face, studying you, recognizing the same want, the same desire and thirst that he feels, as you worship him. You raise your head trapping his cockhead under your chin, giving hot, open mouthed kisses to his base and his veiny shaft like you would make out with his mouth. You let him slide to the side of your face, his precum painting your cheek as you bring his cock above you, kissing and licking his underside, lightly sucking his protruding vein.

His eyes darken, enough of your teasin’. He fists his cock, stroking it slowly once, twice, his thumb pressing it down to guide it into your salivating mouth. He swipes his tip across your lips, smearing his precum all over them.

“What do you do if you want me to stop?”, he checks with you.

“Joel..” you drag the vowels of his name on your tongue.

“Show. Me.”, he demands, so you move your hand to his thigh and you tap three times.

“Good. Now, open.”

You just want to consume him, suck his soul out of his perfect slit. So, you obey, sticking your tongue out. He taps his wide head on your wet muscle one, two, three times and then he invades you, moving his hips forward.

There’s something so undeniably erotic about the movement of his pelvis, like a statement, I choose to give and you accept to take, a balancing of the dynamic between you; you could watch him thrust into you forever.

You take him in as far as you can manage without chocking. The feel of every vein and ridge filling your mouth, dragging on your tongue, is driving you crazy.

You hollow your cheeks and start bobbing your head back and forth in rhythm with his thrusts, while your tongue swirls over his delicious pink head, so soft and velvet, your cunt clenches at the memory of it stretching your tight cunt.

You exhale loudly through your nose, and you’re in a frenzy now, you can’t keep a pace or build him slowly up as you’d normally do. You need him now, all of him, as fast and hard as you can, or you’re gonna die, you think. Your eyes roll back and you’re moaning so loud, Joel feels the vibrations from tip to base.

“F-fuck”, he’s taken aback from your fervor, his jaw slack and his brows pinched together from the intensity of your pace.

“Mnot gonnghhhh-”, he groans deeply, every thought of dominance long gone when you’re giving him head like this. Normally, he’d punish you for attempting to take more than he offers, but your neediness is overwhelming. His breathing is faster, louder, in an effort to level himself. His hands fly to your head, like he would hold to your hips if he was fucking you from behind. He’s taking control now for both of your sake.

His fists tighten on your head, keeping you steady and compliant, his little rug-doll, like you’d go anywhere anyway. He’s all the way in now, your nose brushing his pubic hair, his scent driving you wild. He’s fucking himself into your tight throat harder and harder, the noises from your choking on his massive length and the drooling around your mouth might embarrassed you in another life, but not in this one, not now, not with him.

You take everything because he’s everything. Nothing else exists beyond him. He blinks; you see, he moves; you shift, he laughs; you bloom, he breathes; you live.

You don’t even think of your pleasure until he palms your cunt with one hand and your juices cover his fingers. He slows his pace, thrusting into your mouth almost sensually.

“Sucking daddy’s cock made you this wet, sweetheart?”

He starts to rub your swollen clit up and down, knowing how much more intense the sensation is for you this way. You’re already so close, you can feel your lower belly tense with a familiar warmth. You moan around his cock while you begin to grind your hips against his deftly fingers. You should know better.

He slaps your pussy, the wet sound of his palm on your soaked folds making you feral. “Mmmmm” you groan, arching your back unsuccessfully under that mountain of a man above you, rolling your eyes back, your hips never stoping their movement. You're so far gone, it should be embarrassing.

He slaps you again, harder this time and then a third time in quick succession. The impact with your clit sends waves of arousal all over your body, your cunt gushing your slick all over the sheets now.

Your body tenses, your hands squeeze his ass so hard, little moon-shaped indentations mark his skin and your legs are trembling. Tears start running from your eyes to your temples from the intensity of the act.

“You’re a wild little thing, aren't you?”, still slow-fucking your face, his middle and ring finger tapping quickly on your swollen bundle of nerves. “Playing coy and innocent until my cock’s in your mouth, only to come on my palm, hm?” And then he slaps your mound again.

“Mmmmm” you moan desperately, your face contorted in pleasure, tears pooling in your ears, your whole body covered in a thin sheen of sweat. You feel him twitching in your mouth while you swallow around him. He’s hard and hot inside you and that makes you drool even more as you suck him off with everything you got. Your neck hurts, your jaw hurts, your lips are stretched to their limit, but you’re not stopping for a second.

You start to whimper and his hand leaves your hair to thumb your tears, bringing it to his mouth. You watch him trapping his digit between his plush lips and sucking on it, tasting your saltiness and everything feels so intimate, sobs start shaking your chest, making it almost impossible to breathe.

You try to push him away to breathe but Joel keeps fucking your mouth. “You know what to do if you want me to stop.”

You keep struggling to breathe but you are not going to tap his thigh.

Joel doesn’t stop, either. “You either tap, or you fuckin’ take it.”, he warns, but you shake your head in denial. “Then I guess you can take it, little girl.”, he concludes while he watches you still struggling and sobbing.

“Baby, you know, Daddy only hurts you because you look so pretty when you cry.” he says softly and you squeeze your eyes shut in an effort to calm yourself, more tears spilling out, nodding at the best of your ability.

“That’s how you gonna come for me”. You didn’t expect that.

You’re not sure you can do it and your body stiffens. It hurts good, what he's doing, leaving you panting and wanting, but you fear it's not enough to make you come. He can read that on you and he feels your hesitation.

He moves his thumb to your cheekbone, caressing it gently. Then he moves it lower, to the corner of your outstretched mouth, feeling himself sliding in and out of you. “Fuck, baby, you take me so good. You’re doin’ so good for me,” he’s panting and you know he’s holding himself back, “your mouth was made for daddy’s cock. Just let go baby, don't fight it, ok? I got you, you’re gonna be ok.”

He starts fucking your mouth roughly now, his heavy balls slapping on your wet chin, the sounds echoing in the room nearly pornographic. His hand resumes rubbing your clit in tight circles now, building you up, then tapping it a few times to bring you close and then slapping it once to bring you back from the edge, before he starts all over again.

Circling. Tapping. Slapping.

The bastard is fucking edging you.

He did exactly what you asked of him. He took control, left no room for thoughts, for decisions, for questioning. You just lay there and you take it.

“Daddy needs you to come, right fuckin’ now darlin’; be my good girl and give me what’s mine.” he commands and you obey, because there is no other way.

Your orgasm is explosive, your cunt spasming violently, your eyes rolling into your head, Joel’s pulling back his cock from your open mouth to let you breathe properly but you’re holding your breath in. “Theeere she is, there she fuckin' is..”he smirks in satisfaction, his fingers keep circling your overstimulated clit to prolong your high while he jerks himself fast above your lips.

You exhale loudly when you remember you need to breathe, the air is coming out of your lungs forcefully, hitting Joel’s tip and he comes instantly, thick ropes of milky cum painting your cheeks, nose and lips, running down to your jaw and neck. There’s so much of it, its warmth on your sweaty skin making your pussy keep clenching.

All because of that gorgeous man above you. Because it’s a part of him and he’s gifting it to you.

Joel brings his hand from between your legs to the side of your head, steadying himself, leaning above you, his head resting low between his shoulders, his breathing erratic and loud. His eyes are closed shut, his face wrecked, his muscles still convulsing from his intense orgasm.

Please, open them, let me look at you and he does open them, making you realize you said it out loud. His gaze is one of adoration and something else you don’t dare acknowledge. The edges of his mouth are curled up in a soft smirk.

His fingers caress your face, gathering his seed from your skin and feeding it to your starved mouth. You suck around his thick fingers, your tongue swiping everything clean. He places a soft kiss on your lips tasting himself on you, before he stands to fetch a warm washcloth from the bathroom to clean you up.

You close your eyes and just lay there, still, utterly content and satisfied, lighter than ever. In peace. You feel the mattress dip under his weight again and him gently cleaning your face and neck, then between your legs, discarding the cloth on the hardwood floor when he’s done and laying on top of you, peppering soft kisses all over your face.

“Good?” he whispers against your lips.

“Yes, thank you daddy”. You bring your hands on the sides of his head, kissing the space between his earlobe and jaw, then his jawline, his bottom lip, the edge of his mouth, the apple of his cheek as he smiles, the tip of his nose.

It’s how you know to say thank you, I care about you, too; I love you.

For now.

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lilgoblinbitch · 25 days

Text

Sweetheart 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

rick grimes x fem!reader

from Anon: "I kinda need that rick grimes dumbification you teased at. I know you crushed it"

a/n: yes this was one of the drafts i mentioned on my poll a bit ago! I had a lot of fun writing this. enjoy!

warnings: 18+, PinV unprotected sex, slight dumbification, fingering, slight choking, angst, kinda mean/mocking Rick, edging, cussing, cum swallowing, very vague mentions of past drug usage. (lmk if i missed anything)

wc: 4.3k

Rick Grimes and you had an unsteady ‘relationship.’ Ever since Glenn Rhee, your best friend, welcomed you into the group, you and Rick constantly butted heads. It was like you couldn't agree on any one thing to save both of your lives. And whenever the two of you were alone, Rick often acted as your chaperon, always on your tail nagging you about how you were going to “get yourself hurt.” It irked you to your core. You could handle yourself, and you proved that to him plenty of times, but it just never seemed like Rick was going to trust you under any circumstance.

Glenn and Maggie liked to snicker to themselves, teasing you from time to time that Rick probably had a little crush on you, but you never understood how. That man never even smiled at you; all he did was badger you and make you feel like a fool. What the hell did they know?

“No! I’m not going on a run with him alone, Glenn. You know I’d rip his head off once he starts acting like an authoritative asswipe. And that would be on you for making me go.” You argued with Glenn, who was already scoffing and rolling his eyes.

“Y/n, honestly. You need to learn how to get along with him. Trust me, he’s not a bad guy. Remember I told you about how he led us out of Atlanta? We would have been part of the dead geeks back in the city if it weren’t for him.” Glenn was always the best motivational speaker, and sometimes you disliked how right he could be.

“I know he’s not a bad guy. I know what he did. But that doesn’t change the fact that Rick has never really treated me like one of you guys. I feel like he’s always seen me as just some — some bitch who got lucky finding a group of strong survivors,” You turned to Glenn, who was rubbing his face like he had a counter argument ready to be made, but you spoke again before he could. “Besides, Rick has never once asked me to go on runs with him, this would be awkward.”

“Not unless you make it awkward. Look, there’s no use in the two of you resenting each other, so I think this might be helpful.”

“I don’t feel like I’m helpful, though... helpful enough, I mean,” you admitted, glancing back up at Glenn who was staring at you intently, a sympathetic glint in his eyes. “I feel like I don’t pull my own weight around here very much. I mean, at least outside the walls. Just wanna feel more useful, and Rick often made me feel the opposite.”

“Well, I know you feel that way because I know you well. But you know you do more than enough for this community, especially keeping inventory and helping Olivia manage rations, and you helped rebuild the walls. You’re strong, and you’re one of us. That’s why Rick is taking you on this next run,” He reassured and patted your back lightly. You blushed and nudged your best friend on the shoulder. He never failed to put a smile on your face. “Come on, this is your chance for you to prove yourself to him. I believe in you.”

Of course you could never say no to Glenn, especially when he was so kind to you all the time. Seriously, the guy didn’t have a mean bone in his body. So, you gave Glenn a half-smile, swallowed your bitterness and stomped your way over to the gate where Rick was already waiting.

“You got the list?”

The car was dead silent, besides the rumbling sound of the tires on the road. Rick was driving, his eyes hyper focused on the road ahead, and just for a few ticks he looked down at his pocket to pull out a crumbled slip of paper. With his gaze back on the road, he held the paper out for you to grab. When you went to grab it from his hand, you could have sworn you felt his fingers graze yours for a split second. Although that didn’t seem to affect Rick very much, as his eyes were still glued to the road and both hands gripping the steering wheel.

Sighing softly, you unfolded the slip of paper and read it under your breath. Your eyes scanned it — not much was on the list, considering a team already went on a supply run the week before, and since you were in charge of inventory you knew the supply for food was not low. Looked like all you’d need to find today were extra rounds of ammunition and a few flare guns.

You desperately wanted to speak, to break the uncomfortable silence that occupied the car, but nothing in your head seemed adequate. So you slumped in your seat and picked at the loose skin of your fingertips while waiting to arrive at your destination.

After a short while the car reached a halt, and Rick wasted no time in getting out. “We’re here, grab a bag from the back and let’s go.” He shut the car door and opened the back door, reaching in to grab a backpack and sling it onto his shoulders. You did the same, after stuffing the list in your back pocket. The car was parked a few hundred feet from a worn-down gun shop on the side of the road. You honestly would have missed it if it weren’t for Rick and Daryl already scoping the place out last month; trees, overgrown grass, and shrubs all contributed to the clandestine nature of the shack.

The two of you took down a few walkers that popped out of the woods near the car before making your way into the rustic shop. You slipped your dagger back into its sleeve and pulled the list back out of your pocket. Rick was preoccupied with scoping the area, ensuring no walkers or other living beings were lurking in hidden areas of the room. The shop had a cabin vibe to it, and even the cobweb added to the scenery.

Your eyes never lingered too long on one area of the room — you needed to find flare guns while Rick gathered the other items. Each step you took around the shop sent the floorboards squeaking, earning nasty looks from the sheriff. Rolling your eyes, you stepped quieter across the room. Soon enough you found a small wooden crate collecting dust underneath a broken shelf. Inside it were random items like a piece of rope, a toolbox, and a few other paltry trinkets. You pursed your lips and raised a brow, grabbing the dusted, rusty old toolbox and holding it up in the light. You swiped the layer of dust that coated the lid and then snapped it open. Your lungs released a dissatisfied sigh when you noticed all that was left in there was a wrench and a rusty nail. Bummer.

“We need another wrench? ‘Cause I just found one!” You joked, scanning the room for Rick, until you realized he wasn’t in your view anymore. You huffed and took the wrench, throwing it into your bag and placing the useless toolbox back onto the shelf.

It didn’t take you long to find Rick, who was shoving his find of items into his bag in another room. “Rick,” you caught his attention abruptly, but only for a moment. He went back to packing stuff into his bag. “Only thing I found was a wrench, there was nothing–”

“I got everything we need,” Rick interrupted. He shuffled by you after zipping up the backpack and swinging it on his back.

This man really knew how to push your buttons; you were truthfully at your breaking point. Before he could leave the room you snagged his arm, turning him to face you. You were irritable, and he could see it painted all over your face with the way your eyes pierced into his. Rick sucked in his cheeks and held your stare, before turning his head to the wall and running a hand through his tousled hair.

You thought back to what Glenn told you — the pointers and pep talk he gave you before you left with Rick. This was the only time you would be able to talk with Rick with his undivided attention and no distractions around you.

“We need to get past this bullshit,” you stated matter-of-factly.

“What bullshit?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Rick.” His eyes met yours again. The self-assuredness you fought so hard to keep dwindled, like the wick of a candle crumbling under the dying fire.

“I– we, um…” you licked your lips and collected your composure, “You know we’ve never really been on the best of terms, ever since Glenn found me on the road to Virginia…”

Rick’s silence and fierce gaze made this all the more difficult for you. You were never great at confrontation in the first place, and this man just had to complicate it even more. “Ever since then, we haven’t really been able to get along.”

“We saw things differently. And you didn’t trust me,” he jeered.

“You didn’t trust me,” You retorted.

“Guess we’re even, then.”

You grinned, but not a happy grin — a grin that could convince your mind that you were satisfied in this moment. It was something you usually did as a child; you thought that if you smiled really hard then maybe your brain would actually think you were happy. It didn’t work right now, though. You turned away from Rick, the grin faltering and a frown replacing it.

“I never meant for things between us to get this complicated and tense… I was in a really rough place when Glenn found me and I could only trust him.” You peered at him once more, “Rick, I’m sorry if–”

He shushed you, a hand reaching up to your cheek to comfort you. This was something foreign to you; the only times he touched you was if he was handing something to you and his hand ‘accidentally’ brushed against yours. Now, his hand was placed on your cheek, and his eyes softened after seeing your tender ones pleading at him.

“I’m sorry, too…”

You were close now, his body only inches from yours. One tiny step forward and your bodies would collide. But that wouldn’t happen — couldn’t happen. You would not let it...

“Rick,” you stepped backwards a foot, not anticipating to crash into the wall behind you. His focus was on you, only you, and it made you feel many different things. “I need to know — I need you to tell me we’re okay now. That we–” his body was inching closer to yours again, and you tensed up. “Tell me we’re on good terms now.”

“I shouldn’t have waited this long.”

You were flustered, cheeks beet red. Your back was flush against the wall, hands gripping the paneling for support. “Waited...for what?”

Rick’s taller frame finally pressed against yours. You shuddered under the pressure. “Waited...to touch you–” his eyes darted across your face, landing on your puffy pink lips, “Wanted to, for so long.”

Your lips parted, unsteady breaths leaking out. You swore you could feel your heart pounding on your chest, begging to tear it open. His lips were nearing yours, and there was nothing you could do to stop it — nothing you wanted to do to stop it, at least.

He leaned in close, breath a fervent cloud bouncing off your face. “I think you want it, too.”

A fire ignited inside you, one full of an almost unfamiliar sensation — lust. Something you’d suppressed for so long and never realized you still had in you. Rick Grimes seemed to be the only man to successfully light that spark in you.

It was time to disregard the small voice in your head, the one that was screaming and scolding you for letting lust conquer your conscience. Rick could see right through your tough shell; you were like putty in his grip. So desperate for him to touch you.

Rick tutted at you, thumb pad pressing your chin, directing your eyes to his magnetic blue ones. “Knew you were needy f’me. Ever since you first looked at me.”

“You’re delusional.”

“Am I?” His hand snuck down to your denim crotch, fingers briskly tracing the zipper.

“I need to know, Rick — why you always fucking nagged me. If you wanted me, why would you make me believe the exact opposite?” You interrogated, trying to divert the topic to distract the fog clouding your mind. Rick’s finger traced designs across the v-line of your crotch, your breath hitching in your throat each time he dragged a digit down closer to your clothed heat. “You never–” you swallowed hard, gathering your composure back, “You never have long enough conversations with me, just quick enough to avoid our usual tension. And, I don’t recall us ever going on a run alone together.”

Rick’s eyes pierced into yours, his fingers coming to a halt at the hem of your jeans. “The only time I ever see you is when you need to check in on our ammunition and inventory, or when you need me to watch Judith. Even then you don’t really talk to me much.” You slapped Rick’s hand away from your pants, exasperation washing over you. “Oh, and, I can’t forget to mention that you weren’t even the one who invited me on this fucking run. Glenn did!”

Rick took a step back from you, placing his hands on his hips. He bit his lip, averting his eyes to the ground. Your brows furrowed in displeasure. You were aware that Rick was most likely working up something to retort, however impatience got the best of you.

A groan from you filled the silent air. “Please, just explain it to me! Tell me something. Anything!”

The look in his eyes was intensely passionate. You were crumbling against the wall; just his eyes had that effect on you.

“You were like a lost puppy for Glenn, and then Daryl for a while. And it made me angry because–” He closed the gap between you once again, “You were too caught up in acting like a whore instead of being with me.”

Rick’s face was close to yours, his hot breath fading into your own. You were too shocked to react, too dumbfounded by his choice of words. Did he really deem you a whore?

“I was protecting you all along, and you were too dumb to fucking realize that, huh?” His gruff voice boomed in your eardrums and sent shockwaves through your body. “I should have had you sooner, that was my mistake. But I have you here now, Y/N.” A hand slithered across your neck, gently squeezing it. You bit your lip in anticipation, squeezing your legs together to create friction for your aching core — an arousal you didn’t quite recognize until Rick grabbed your throat and brought it to life.

You were aroused, and Rick acknowledged it. There was no need to keep hiding it. Hastily you grabbed Rick’s face and smashed your lips together, hungry for him. Being that close to him wasn’t enough — you needed him closer.

The kiss became heated pretty quickly, almost two years worth of sexual tension released from it and relieved moans from the both of you harmonizing within the small shop. Rick’s hand slithered down to your crotch, right where he had left off not too long ago. Only this time, he wasted no time in slipping his hand between the waistband of your pants and the soft fabric of your lace panties. You pulled away from the kiss, breathing heavily and eyes half lidded.

“Such a pretty girl… always letting me take care of you, hm? You know I’m s’posed to look out for you, ‘cause you’re too hopeless without me, sweetheart,” he cooed, his hand slipping further down your pants and flicking your panties to the side to expose your dripping heat. His fingers explored your slick folds, and you felt your back arch in response. Your hips bucked forward instinctively; you were in a trance, unable to comprehend your current emotions or actions. This was wrong, it shouldn’t be happening right now. This man hated you — at least, you thought he did; now here he was, playing with your cunt like all grudges were dropped.

Your hands gripped the back of Rick’s neck, fingers latching onto the soft curls at the base of it. Two of his fingers plunged into you without an issue; you were already soaking for him. You felt so vulnerable under this man’s touch, like he placed some sort of spell upon you, and you couldn’t find the strength in you to push him away. Maybe this was supposed to happen — maybe Rick knew what he was doing, and maybe he knew what you needed. At least, it felt like he knew what he was doing.

You couldn’t help but examine his facial features: his scruffy salt and pepper colored facial hair added beautiful texture to his chiseled jawline; his soft pink lips a shade darker than normal from your own lips eating at them; and oh — his eyes. You could never get tired of those eyes. They were hypnotic, a shade of sky blue that reeled you in the longer you stared into them. If this man wasn’t a sheriff, he would’ve done well as a fisherman – judging by the way he reeled you in so effortlessly. Although this man carried himself like he was a stone-cold sergeant, his graceful beauty was downright conspicuous; the fact that you never really considered how attractive Rick really was, honestly boggled you.

The pace of Rick’s fingers quickened and your hips grinded into his hand. His palm pushed against your needy little bundle of nerves, heightening your pleasure. Each thrust of his fingers into your wet heat brought you closer and closer to the edge. “Such a dumb slut. So fucked just from my fingers inside you. S’like you never been fucked before, so tight,” Rick cooed, his tone dripping with vehemence. The sensations were too much — you couldn’t remember the last time someone did this to you, made you feel so good.

Without warning you came undone around Rick’s digits, that nostalgic feeling in your core jetting pleasure all throughout your veins. “Oh, fuck–”

Rick pulled his fingers out, bringing them up to your lips. “Wanna taste yourself, sweetheart?” Except he didn’t wait for a response from you; carefully he slipped both fingers through the entrance of your slightly agape lips. Your tongue licked at his digits, cheeks sucking in as you lapped the juices up, tongue relishing in the bittersweetness of your flavors. Your mind was fuzzy.

Rick slipped his fingers back out of your mouth. “Think I fucked you well enough with my fingers?” He rasped, starting to unbuckle his belt. You swallowed hard, licking your lips, legs still shaking like a chihuahua. “No words? Damn, can’t wait to see how you react when I stuff you with my cock.”

You accepted your fate; rightly so, officer friendly had you at his beck and call. One orgasm was not enough yet, according to the restless motions of your hips, and somehow Rick perceived this before you could. Within seconds his brown jacket, the one he adored wearing — and most importantly, slay his enemies in — was tossed across the wooden plank floorboard and the white t-shirt that hugged his toned frame forgivingly was peeled off. You could not refuse your eyes the opportunity to explore Rick’s body. His sculpted frame was an absolute eye vacation; he wasn’t body-builder buff but he was fit and you could tell he took good care of his health. The skilled celerity of his hands practically ripped off his tattered jeans, landing on the floor with a thump from the weight of his belt and holster. You ogled at his veins popping out, and how they trailed along his forearms and outlined the sculpting of his muscles. These were all things that made you wetter by the minute.

Rick wasted no time in shoving your jeans and panties off, putting your dripping heat on full display. A wicked smirk plastered onto his face, and you scanned his eyes; they were dark and unrelenting. Your body was a pulsing, sweating, yearning machine and Constable Grimes was the only troubleshoot that seemed to exist in that moment.

“You gonna be good while I fuck your cunt?” Hands roughly clutched both of your thighs, setting them at both sides of his hips. Fervently you nodded, feeling the tip of Rick’s leaking cock tease your entrance. Even more of a confirmation of your consent was the manner in which you were wrapped around his hips; you were fiending for the sensation of being filled up by Rick’s cock. “Such a needy slut, I just gotta–” one intense thrust of his hips sent his cock driving sharply into your slippery hole; “fuck the whore outta you and–” thrust, “make you my sweet, sweet girl.” Strained squeaks and whimpers spilled from your panting mouth while Rick pounded into you. A few stray curls danced upon his forehead, sweat drenching his hair.

The man was a fiend for you too, his licentious grunts solid proof of it. “Mmph, fuck, Rick!” Your lewd cries a melody in his ears. Your tight bundle of nerves collided into his pubic bone rhythmically, adding to the concoction of whatever pleasure potion was being poured into your blood. Your strength was depleted, limbs desperately hugging around Rick and fingers clawing into his back.

“So tight for me. Need my cock to stretch y’out, right?” Rick chuckled lowly, the sound reverberating through your body. The thrusts of his hips never ceased, only for a swift moment when he placed you down on his jacket that was lying on the ground and picked right back up with his cock ramming into your cunt. The force shook your legs, and it almost felt like they were going to go numb. Rick was on his knees, holding your legs flush against his torso and shoulders while he found the perfect angle to greet your g-spot with the thumping of his tip against it. Your siren song moans were everything to Rick — however, he wasn’t going to risk having anything impeding this moment, and that meant drawing as little attention to the shop as humanly possible.

“Gotta be good for me, an’ stay fuckin’ quiet.”

His hand clasped your mouth roughly while his hips continued to drive relentlessly into your dripping pussy. His body leaned close into yours, your legs pressed flat to your sides — all spread out for him to fully access your obedient hole. He was hitting all the right spots. His lips eventually replaced his hand on your own mouth, going back and forth between dragging out your bottom lip between his teeth and wrestling your tongue with his — he ended up winning that duel.

Rick attached his lips to your neck, nibbling at the exposed skin with his teeth and evoking hushed mewls from you. He kissed and sucked your skin as he fucked you on top of his jacket. Skin on skin and the wet squelching of your pussy — the sounds were white noise to him.

Your fingers dug into his back and shoulders as he transitioned to a more graceful pace, letting your body shift along with his. “Look at you, goin’ dumb from my cock. Feels good?” He mocked you, smugness washing over his entire face.

You were unable to form coherent sentences, not with how Rick was rocking into you and incessantly ramming his tip into all the right spots. Felt better than any drug you ever did in college. All that clouded your mind was how close you were to reaching the point of no return. “So close,” was what squeaked out of you, stimulation to both your clit and g-stop all too overwhelming. Your body was preparing to succumb to the pressure.

Rick looked down at your features; your face scrunched up in pleasure — mouth making perfect “o” shapes, and sweat gleaming on your skin. You were taking him so well, being so patient for him.

“Tell me how good you feel, sweet girl.”

“So good, Rick! Ungh– need to cum, please!”

He smirked, rubbing circles upon your swollen clit; “Cum f’me.” And that was all you needed to hear to let the jetstream of pleasure erupt through your body, your wet cunt gushing while Rick steadied his pace thrust by thrust. His orgasm was near, you could tell from the way he started twitching inside you.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, the warm euphoric feeling you were experiencing was clouding your senses. “God, you must love being fucked, huh?” Rick tantalized, admiring the way your tits bounced and how your arms flailed around, reaching for something to grab onto but were too weak to do so. It was bringing him closer to his climax.

The empty feeling he left you after he pulled his cock out made you frown, unable to formally fuss because of the state you were in. He started stroking his shaft, thumbing the pink tip. “Open your mouth, hun,” was the only warning he gave you as he sat you up and released a thick ribbon down your throat. You lazily licked up the treat he gifted you, then lay back down on his jacket.

You simpered in that position while Rick cleaned the both of you up, kissing your cheek as he did so. Glenn was right, somewhat — Rick wasn’t a bad guy, and maybe he did have a crush on you after all. You just weren’t exactly expecting the events that had recently unfolded in a gun shop of all places.

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