wooobuddyletsgetnasty

[wooobuddyletsgetnasty]

rick grimes x reader

the two times rick fucks you (platonic) and the first time rick makes love to you (romantic)

i know i said i wasn’t coming back but i accidentally posted this.. so i decided to finish it.. oops. my peace offering for 2024

i . the farm

you weren’t sure how this had turned into such a cluster, but here you were, watching the argument with bewilderment shining in your eyes, the object of the argument screeching for them not to hurt each other to your right.

maybe you should have kept your fucking mouth shut but you couldn’t do that. not to rick, not to the man that saved you from that hoard in Atlanta before glenn could even blink. he was a friend- you were friends. maybe he didn’t see you that way, but you didn’t care. he was good, something you desperately need in the new world. 

besides, he deserved to know what his wife had been up to while he was presumed dead, you would have wanted someone to tell you before you made a fucking fool of yourself. even with your desire to outright tell him your suspicions, you hadn’t wanted to wage a war in the camp, so you opted on an off handed comment, but it seemed that rick already had his suspicions, and your big fucking mouth was all he needed for confirmation.

the yelling finally simmered away, and as you watch rick turn tail for the woods, lori and shane’s malicious gazes now falling on you, you feel that you made a mistake. you didn’t want the group to split, it wasn’t your intention. 

before you can register what you’re really doing, maybe trying to save yourself from shane’s anger- or maybe just to be a shoulder to lean on while he processes.

either way, you’re chasing after rick, feet rucking up fallen leaves from the change of the seasons, “wait! please! slow down!” he doesn’t slow, but neither do you, moving as quickly as you possibly can, and before you know it, you’re walking steadily next to him through the trees.

you want to break the silence but ‘sorry’ doesn’t feel warranted for the situation you started. despite that feeling, you’re already spewing, a habit you’ve never been able to break, “listen- i am so sorry, rick. i shouldn’t have said anything— i should have just minded my business and kept it to myself.”

you feel desperate- this man saved you and how do you repay him? by hinting to him his wife has been sneaking away with his best friend.

what a fucking shitstorm you’ve started.

before you can spew more words at him, he’s speaking, a low drawl you’ve heard before but never been on the receiving end of, “how long’d take you to notice?”

you shrug, almost flinching away from the stormy blue of his gaze, “couple days after they came to camp together. men don’t look at a woman like that if they haven’t or don’t wanna... you know.”

the silence lingers for a second, and you want to flinch away from his calloused hand gripping at your chin, but you don’t. his touch is gentle, and you stand steadily, not wavering away from his gaze, “so everyone musta known then- seen ‘em sneaking around,” there’s something buttery in his tone, it’s almost scary how handsome you think he looks, leering at you, “ain’t that right, darlin’?”

you don’t have the chance to answer, his mouth capturing yours in a kiss that will surely haunt every future fucking night you’ll live through. it’s messy, heated and filled with rage.

but it’s so fucking good you can’t help but indulge in that anger, delicious heat pooling at the base of your spine with each pass of his tongue against your teeth.

you’re clinging to his biceps, hazy-eyed and delirious when he pulls away, his thunderous eyes focused on the heave of your chest, zoning in on the way your nipples press so temptingly against your shirt, gaze still not wavering when he realizes you know what he is looking at- and it’s then you know what he wants. he wants revenge, and it makes something ravenous rise in your throat, “kiss me again, rick.”

his eyes flicker to your spit slicked lips, thumb swiping away the wetness he left behind, “say please, sweetheart.”

your mouth opens to bite at his digit, a muffled plead following behind it, honey sweet and so pretty- he doesn’t move, watching your teeth nip at the pad of his thumb, and for a second, you think he’s came back to reality. you think he’s realized that you aren’t his wife, realized that he can’t do this with you.

but even then, you look so cloying under the shadowed sunlight- and how could he possibly refuse you?

that’s all it takes, one little plea- and he backs you into a tree hard enough you wince, your teeth pulling at his bottom lip in retaliation.

you swear you could find salvation in the taste of his tongue, in the way he looks at you when he pulls back to peek at your pleasure riddled features, in the way he feels with his hips pressing yours into the unforgiving tree bark.

you know he’s only doing this, doing you, to spite his wife- but you don’t fight him when that same hand that had gripped your chin presses your head into the ground, every hint of gentleness dispersing in a rough snarl for you to fucking take it, his slick skin echoing a quick rhythm against the tender flesh of your ass.

rick fucks you like he hates you and come to think of it, maybe he does.

maybe he hates you for ruining the image of his perfect little family.

you don’t mind though, even through the gloss of tears in your eyes, even through the way his free hand, the one that isn’t shoving you in the fucking ground is tugging at your hip, pulling you back to fuck you deeper, to fuck you harder- you still think you made the right choice.

he deserved to know.

═════════•°•☣•°•════════

ii. the prison

things had been normal, the both of you choosing to ignore the reality of what you’d done in the woods. it wasn’t awkward, not in the slightest.

lori was pregnant, and it seemed as if he was willing to work with her. if not being more distant than normal, and how could you be anything less than respectful of that?

but along your travels, when you’d catch his gaze through the campfire, you could still see that haze, the one that covered his steel eyes when he’d pressed you face down in the dirt.

it sent a pang of longing down your spine; you wanted him at his worst- you wanted anything he’d give you.

now, now it’s been close to a week since you’ve last seen rick- it’s been close to a week since lori had passed while birthing a sweet baby girl.

he’s somewhere in the halls of the prison, maybe he’s fucking dead- you don’t know but you’re terrified, scared of the very thought of him not coming back as rick.

all you have is the baby, the baby and carl to keep you sane while you wait.

it’s another almost full day before he shows face in the prison. he’s showered, clean, and more handsome than you remember- but he’s also alive.

you don’t fight the grin that takes over your features when he ruffles at carl’s hair, choosing to scoot away with the sweet baby in your arms, for the sake of their privacy.

when rick looks at you, you see it again- that hunger. the one that haunts your nights, just like you thought it would. it startles you, sends a shiver that’s nothing but akin to desire tingling down to your toes, something you fight off. it’s wholly inappropriate of you.

after his conversation with carl, he’s asking you to come with him to clear one of the blocks with him and your agreement is quick on your tongue, “of course i’ll help, rick. beth doesn’t mind watching the baby. let me just get my knife.”

you’re less jumpy now than you were at the start, and the old you would be very proud of that.

you’re more than prepared for if something was to peek around the corner, something rotten with gnashing teeth and dead eyes- but what you aren’t prepared for is something living, pressing against your back, breathing down your neck, mouth hovering against the thrum of blood in your throat, “easy darlin’. ‘s just me.” 

you want to ask him what he’s doing when his hands rub circles at the meat of your hips- but you know that will make you sound foolish. you know what he's doing, “you cleared this block already?” 

he’s gripping at you tighter now, mouth pressing wet kisses against the tender skin of your throat, “yeah,” his voice is quiet in the hall, echoing in a way you’ve only heard once, “still need your help with somethin’ else though.” you can’t see him- it’s too dark, but you can feel him. he’s pressing you closer to the wall, still spreading feather light kisses against your jugular, and your face hits the cold cement before the rest of you, hands reaching back to press at his ribcage, “you’ll help me, won’t ya sweetheart?” 

you should say no- flashes of carl’s stoic face after putting a bullet in his mother’s head, the sounds of a grieving man sobbing at the idea of his boy having to do it alone, it makes your stomach churn with guilt for liking the pressure of his lips trailing down towards your shoulder.

rick just lost her; the wound is still fresh. 

you should push him away, tell him to come back when he’s thinking straight, but you don’t. instead, you press your hips back against his instead, grinding a gentle rhythm against the press of his cock at the seam his jeans, “yeah, rick.. i’ll help..”

you’ll take any part of him you can, even the ugly parts- the parts that make you hate yourself.

maybe if you weren’t so desperate you would be stronger, you tell yourself. you wouldn’t tug your jeans down so easily, you wouldn’t let him spread you open on his fingers before his cock- but you aren’t stronger; in fact, you’re just fucking lonely.

you’re whining at the first press of him against the heat between your thighs, and the murmur of his voice at your throat, saccharine in nature, sends your knees wobbling, sends your hands gripping at his hips to tug him closer, “ ‘s alright, darlin’- i gotcha.” 

when rick fucks you this time- it hurts, but not physically- even though the rub of your face against the concrete with every push of his hips into yours is uncomfortable, even though you’ll have an ache from the way your back is curved against his chest.

but physically those are minuscule, they don’t really hurt, it hurts mentally- you know he wants comfort, and maybe he’s finding it in the curve of your breasts, in the pull of your hand at his curls, in the way you keen his name when your cunt spasms on his cock. 

he wants comfort this time, and you feel inadequate to give it to him- but that doesn’t stop you from trying, honeyed words falling from your tongue in an attempt to soothe him, “ ‘s good, rick.. ‘s so good.”

and at the end, the sound of your name on his tongue, echoing in the empty halls, it brings you the comfort you hope you gave him. 

and when he walks you back, he kisses your forehead before you step into your shared cell, the one you share with his baby. you’ve taken on the role of her caregiver in his absence, something you hope he doesn’t mind.

you don’t think you could give her up.

that very night, you’re awake- listening to the newly dubbed judith’s breathing, sleep not finding you until you reach the truth behind why you’re so restless.

you’re in love with rick grimes; how fucking pathetic of you.

═════════•°•☣•°•════════

i. alexandria

you’ve settled in quite nicely, or at least you’d like to think so. 

it’s nice to play pretend every once in a while, which is absolutely what it feels like you’re doing. 

daryl is right- it feels fake, like you shouldn’t be here. these people are pretending the dead aren’t walking right outside their fences, but it brings you comfort to know that some people haven’t suffered the way you have on the outside, that they haven’t worried about feeding their kids, or losing someone important. 

you should be grateful, but some part of you isn’t. maybe it’s your jealousy. you’re fucking wallowing in it. you feel bitter watching rick interact with jesse from the yard of your house. she’s fucking pretty- so fucking pretty.

how is it possible to be that pretty in the middle of a fucking apocalypse? rick has seen you at your worst- smelly, covered in gore, you’re sure that’s all he sees when he looks at you now. he doesn’t see a pretty little housewife wearing pretty dresses and cooking dinner for him when he comes home from his watch. 

he sees you- covered in walker blood and learning to go for the throat when someone threatens your family.

you peer down at judith, muttering, “can you even believe that, judy? he’s hook, line, and sinker all for a pretty face.” judith doesn’t care enough to respond, chubby hand ripping flowers from their roots in an attempt to eat them. you wrestle them from her grip despite her whines of displeasure, not noticing the man of the hour himself be-lining straight for the two of you, “c’mon honey. you don’t have to eat flowers anymore.” 

his voice doesn’t startle you, nothing really does anymore, “don’t think judy got the memo we don’t hav’ta eat dirt anymore.” it pulls a laugh from your chest, and there’s something tender in your eyes when you look up at him, tugging the sweet girl up on your hip, “i was just telling her that,” you pause for a few seconds, brushing hair out of her eyes, “you heard your daddy, judy- no more dirt for lunch.”

rick pauses for a moment, observing you in a way that makes you slightly uncomfortable before speaking softly, “listen darlin’, jessie says they’re havin’ a party tonight- she’d like it if you come.” all tenderness you felt vanishes in an instant, and you turn your gaze to judith, wiping the petals and left-over grime from her so-called snack away, “i’ll see if carl can watch her.” he answers softly, “hope to see you there, sweetheart.” 

maybe if you weren’t so focused on judy to avoid his gaze out of embarrassment, you’d see the soft look he gives you before he walks away. 

--

you weren’t sure how you’d managed it- but here you are, lingering on the steps, baby free and with daryl of all people in tow. 

it had taken carl less than a minute to agree to watch judy, but convincing daryl of coming with you, now that had taken some work. at this point, you’d be stuck washing his grimy clothes and feeding him for weeks.

“are we goin’ or not? i got better things to be doin’ right now.” you don’t fight off the roll of your eyes, “relax grouch, we’re going. i don’t wanna talk to these people either.” with that, you step in first, daryl’s hand shadowing the door above your head to hold it for you, ever the gentleman. 

he’s awkward in his movements, but so are you. before the fall, you would have had fun at a party like this, but you aren’t that you anymore. it’s echoed in the way you fiddle with a broken loose string on your shirt, peering at daryl over your shoulder, whose eyes probably relay the same message yours do. discomfort.

you’re on the verge of turning tail, but you’re a second too late, carol calling happily for the both of you, drawing the attention of rick and jessie, and all three of them move to greet you. daryl scooches closer to you at the attention, his elbow quite literally rubbing yours, and you don’t fight off the grin when you look up at him, carol speaking before you can, “now, how’d she convince you to come?” 

he shrugs, awkward in his movement, “hard ‘ta say no to a pretty face.” you laugh, wheezing out a, “bullshit,” daryl grins back at you easily, “i’m gonna be washing dirty underwear for the rest of my life.”

carol and jessie giggle, but rick doesn’t. 

your head tilts in his direction, “officer.” it’s a tease, he knows it is- but the smile he gives you is forced. you almost think about jumping out the top window of this house- rick doesn’t want you here. he was just being polite when he extended the invitation. you feel nothing despair when jessie grabs at his forearm, offering you a drink. 

you can’t help but wonder where her husband is, but you keep that thought to yourself, forcing your lips into a smile you hope doesn’t look like a grimace, tucking yourself closer to daryl for comfort, “thank you, jessie.. but we’ll find it.” 

--

it’s only fate that you meet rick on the way out of judith’s room later that night, wanting to make sure she was okay before you went to your room down the hall. he stops you with his gaze, watching your face change at the sight of him, “you ‘n daryl, huh?” you want to snark that you aren’t fucking interested in anyone but him, but you bite that back, “you and jessie, huh?” 

his head tilts, blue eyed gaze lingering on your face, “she’s married.” you want to make a smartass comment about how that hadn’t stopped him- but you swallow thickly instead, “daryl came with me out of pity. i didn’t wanna be alone with no one to talk to.” 

there’s a furrow in his brow you can almost describe as frustration, “carol was there. maggie and glenn and everyone else.. darlin’, i was there.” you shrug, trying not to seem pathetic, “they all like it here, rick.” the furrow in his brow turns to surprise, “you don’t?” 

you’re picking at the loose string on your shirt before you can stop yourself, “it’s not that i don’t like it. i just don't fit here. everyone has jobs and does things to help the community. i just stay here, in this house, not contributing.”

the vexation in his features returns, “you ever think there’s a reason for that? i don’t want you out there.” you’re sure your features have morphed to match his, “what does that mean? you’re stopping them from asking me to help?” you feel nothing but frustration when he speaks again, “i want you here, safe. that’s what you deserve, what you’ve always needed.” 

if you were anything but appalled by the idea of rick, your rick, preventing you from doing what you could from the community, you would notice the way he’s looking at you- it’s gentle and specific- the way you look at him.

you’re opening your mouth to speak, but he’s got his hand on your chin, guiding your gaze to his. he wants you to look at him- to really see him, and you do. you can feel it, the tingle in your spine, “i want you safe, darlin’ - safe, here, with me.” 

his words are heavy, and in the moment, you feel all the fight you had simmering away. you lean in to his touch, voice quiet when you speak, “explain to me what you mean, rick.” 

his hands move from your chin to the nape of your neck, he’s cradling you. it’s tender in a way you never knew he could be. you’re close to shaking, whether it’s anxiety induced or not, you’re not sure. 

you’re not prepared for the next statement, but that doesn’t make it any less meaningful, “i love you.” his hands are tender, brushing the hair from your face, making sure you can see the look on his face, “i love you- since Atlanta, since the first moment i saw you. it’s you, it always has been.” 

your chest feels tight- you’ve wished for this, hoped for this, but your thoughts and dreams would never compare to the way he’s looking at you.

you speak next, your voice unrecognizable to even yourself, “i love you too.” 

you’re kissing him before he can speak again, hands moving to cradle his nape in the same tender way. 

--

it’s not long before he has you pressed against the wall, mouth trailing from the pulse in your throat to the crown of your head.

he whispers your name, broken and soft, and you tuck yourself closer, mouthing at the thrum of blood in his throat, you feel the sudden urge to bury yourself in the warmth of him, “i love you, rick.”

the sentence makes him quiver against your wandering hands, and for the first time since moving to Alexandria, you see rick’s bedroom in another light.

he’s slow with removing your clothes, hands trailing from your clavicle to your sternum, mouth never leaving yours. it’s delicate, soft- he’s touching you with a care you haven’t felt since before the fall. 

it makes a feeling tingle from the base of your neck to the tips of your toes, he loves you- you can feel it in the tenderness of his kiss, the soft feeling of his hands gripping you in a way you can’t recall anyone else doing- rick loves you like no one else has. 

when he fucks you this time, it’s hardly fucking, he’s showing you- showing you how much he cares. it’s written in the way he kisses you, in the way his hips rock a slow rhythm against yours, in the way that it doesn’t feel like it’s enough, but it is- you’re coming quicker than you expect, chanting his name like it’s your salvation. you come with his hands tangled in your hair, you come with him mouthing at your throat like you’re his salvation. 

you know what this means, when he comes in you for the first time. it means your his, his to care for and protect. 

you don’t find any issues with the revelation you’ve come to. 

you and rick grimes are written in the stars. 

this is where you belong. 

#rick grimes x reader #send me asks #yes yes yes #rick grimes #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #twd #twd x reader

[wooobuddyletsgetnasty]

whew.

hello tumblr, this has been a fucking hell of a year.

so… broke up with my fiancé of 6 years in a messy nightmare situation that was literally like a fucking fever dream but also the most relieving thing I’ve ever done. I also have a new boyfriend now??? love that for me???

but anyways, the whole point of this post is me just telling you all that I love you and everything I’ve ever done on this hellsite very much but I have to close this chapter in my life for good (which has been a long time coming tbh I think we all saw the day on the horizon).

with that being said, I will not be coming back. that’s so fucking bittersweet to say and also HURTS.

however, I will be keeping everything I’ve ever posted up for your viewing pleasure so you little shits better keep my fucking memory alive or I’ll come kick every single one of you in the back of your knees fr.

signing off officially— never forget that I love you and also to stay nasty forever 💜

#send me asks #yes yes yes #shut up rissa #it’s been real #love you all very much

[wooobuddyletsgetnasty]

⚠️: size kink, Toji laughs @ you— I think that’s everything

Minors close ur eyes n if you know me no you don’t.

he’s big— big arms, big shoulders, big chest, big cock and somehow he’s managed to convince you to lay down n take it.

and he starts out real nice n sweet and is murmuring about how soft and pretty you are when he spreads you open on his fingers first but it isn’t enough to make you come— no, it’s just enough to settle your nerves, just enough to make you all slick n pliant, just enough for him to bully the fat head right in.

and it’s just him— big chest n big biceps being all you can see. just him with a smarmy grin as he coos in your face ab how it’s okay, you can take it. “look angel— it’s already halfway in, you’re being so brave.”

and maybe it’s how he looks, eyes flicking between your blown out pupils to how your cunt is choking him out— or maybe it’s how he’s still rubbin’ away at your puffy little clit trying to make it easier to spear you open wide for him.

somehow it isn’t enough— but it also is.

before you can warn him to slow down, you’re tunneling out, chest heaving, tears pricking the corners of your eyes— you’re fucking coming and he’s not even all the way in yet.

and you somehow hear him— you fucking hear him, even with your eyes rolling back into your skull, even with your toes curling— even with your pussy creamin’ around his half seated cock.

He’s fucking laughing at you.

“yeah? you comin’— ah, shit— ‘s that fuckin’ good, huh?”

his tone is nothing but mocking, like he knew he was about to ruin you, like he knew that after this, your pussy would fit him like a glove.

you wish you could say something back— but you can’t. it’s all garbled noises and pathetic whimpers because Toji is laughing at you and also because he’s right— it is that fucking good.

but before you can truly catch up, he’s using the slick, using how you’ve loosened up to shove the rest of his cock in to the fucking root — and even though you’re all gooey inside n opened wide, it still stings.

and Toji is so smug, that same mocking tone in his voice when he hushes you, when he wipes your tears, when he grabs you by the chin to make you look at him when he’s talking, “ ‘s all in now, okay?” there’s a pause, one he uses to tug your thighs over his, one he uses to fold you in fucking half— his big body weighing yours down in a way that burns, “promise I’ll make it good f’ you.”

you nod hazily in agreement— you’re sure he fucking will.

—

if you made it here don’t look at me. I am ashamed.

#send me asks #yes yes yes #shut up rissa #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x fem!reader #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #NOONE LOOK AT ME

[wooobuddyletsgetnasty]

Hellur, do you know ghost from cod..?

oh baby do I ever 😮‍💨

#send me asks #yes yes yes

[wooobuddyletsgetnasty]

Okay wait I am so excited to write this one.

should it be smut????

next fic poll!!

vote it upppppp yessssss

#send me asks #yes yes yes

[wooobuddyletsgetnasty]

next fic poll!!

vote it upppppp yessssss

[wooobuddyletsgetnasty]

i wanna write a the last of us au w young (early 20s) Kakashi or Shikamaru.

it would be based off the whole “you’re cargo— a mission n I’ll be damned if I let you die before I get what they said they’d give me but we’ve been traveling together for months and now it hurts to think about not having you next to me.”

But instead of a father daughter relationship, you’re falling in love.

the road to where you’re going is hard— rough. you aren’t meant for this— but him, he is. he’s used to the traveling, the danger.

he’s originally only interested in what they’re offering for your safe arrival to their facility, shut off and more than willing to hand you over, until he isn’t.

you’re worth more than any information they could ever offer. you, with your smile. you, with the way you steadily worked your way into his chest, digging your fingers into his rib cage. just you and the idea of a life without you making him fucking sick.

Just ahahahahahaaaa going from keeping your distance and making jabs at each other to, “once this is over, I’ll follow you wherever you want to go. I don’t care, not as long as you’re there.”

grumpy man n reader who is carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders slowly realizing they can’t imagine not having each other.

And, AND Kakashi or Shikamaru going fucking ballistic because these people are going to kill you— you, the only person they need to stay alive because their world will spin off it’s axis if they can’t see you smile again— if they can’t take you where ever you want to go.

they need you, just you. alive, breathing, safe— in their arms. where you belong.

#send me asks #yes yes yes #shut up rissa

[wooobuddyletsgetnasty]

lololololol

not me thinking about Madara fucking UCHIHA asking you how you want him after a bad day. somebody SEDATE ME AHHHH.

like come OOOOON.

“how you want it, baby? want me to be sweet? kiss you all nice ‘n make you feel good?”

this option would be accompanied with a sweet touch to the underside of your breast, long fingers plucking at a nipple so sweetly you can’t help but shudder— followed by a saccharine smile and a lingering kiss that makes you chase after him, hands pawing at his shoulders with a desperation only he can cause you.

but it would switch— grip turning heavy fingered, twisting at the delicate part of your chest with a sharp nip at your bottom lip, teeth pulling until you whine— big body muscling you back towards the wall with a heavy thump, “or you wan’ it rough, huh? want me to make you fuckin’ cry, sweetheart? give you hell?”

it’s a tough choice. you already know what you want though— all you have to do is say it.

just Madara Uchiha being more than happy to give you whatever you want— anything to see you smile, anything to make you feel good.

I’m gonna fuckin throw UPPPPP

#send me asks #yes yes yes #naruto smut #shut up rissa

[wooobuddyletsgetnasty]

i am going to affectionately threaten you for the dirtiest nastiest shikamaru headcanons you can muster. maybe something with a daddy or a sir kink? just,,,,i want him to use me as an ash tray 🥵🥵

i am affectionately threatening you back because at one point in time i was going to write a whole story ab shikamaru using you like an ashtray so nobody look at me

⚠️: mentions of cigarettes, slightly mean! shikamaru

- tbh i don’t think shikamaru would have a daddy kink but a sir kink? that’s right up his alley

- girl don’t play, now lay down like???

- not me thinking about staying out too late and coming home to shikamaru lounging in a chair in your shared living room, cigarette hanging between his lips and he doesn’t even have to say anything— you just know this about to be crazyyyy

- he raises one thin eyebrow and you’re about to confess all your sins

- tell me he wouldn’t make you apologize for worrying him

- actually don’t because you can’t convince me otherwise

- give him a little “ ‘m so sorry for not letting you know i was going to be late, sir.”

- and he’s gonna laugh at you because aren’t you just pitiful

- WHO IS YOU LAUGHING AT??? HELLO??

- when your apology doesn’t work you settle with your head on his thigh, hands working at the button on his pants

- and he just, “can you say please?”

- you’re just peering up at him all doe-eyed and pliant, “please, sir— just wanna apologize.”

- how could he ever say no to that??? now stop talking, there’s something better you could be using that mouth for

- you cannot tell me that he doesn’t look like a fucking dream like that— thighs spread wide, posture relaxed with one hand brushing the hair out of your eyes, and the other bringing the end of the cigarette to his lips and he’s just, “go on, sweetheart— do it how i like it.”

- just shikamaru slipping his fingers into your mouth beside his cock to open you wider because, “pretty sad apology sweetheart, now open up— i know you can take more than that.”

- and he’s just smug and mean and making sure you fucking choke

- gtg BYE

#naruto #naruto x reader #naruto smut #shikamaru x reader #shikamaru nara smut #shikamaru smut #shikamaru nara x reader #shikamaru nara #smut smut smut

[wooobuddyletsgetnasty]

Kakashi: biting, hickes, claiming.

That man can leave bites and hickes on my body nearly wherever he wants to and I will be turned on when they remind me of our activities. The Hatake Clan have strong connections to wolf's and dogs and it shows during bedroom activities and even outside them.

wait pls no i just got back don’t do this omg

⚠️: biting, possible hints at scenting??? idk man overall just nsfw pls no one look at me wtf

- kakashi would 100% in the beginning of your relationship leave marks where others can see them like don’t play??? you’re his??? BYE

- as time progresses, he’ll find it easier to leave them in places that only the two of you know about but don’t mistake that, one wrong move in your skirt and every one in town will see where he’s sunk his teeth into the meat on your thighs like ??? why is that so sexy???

- the whole close relationship with dogs makes me think of him being able to smell you

- maybe he’s too close and you get a good look at the veins in his forearms and now you’re 5 seconds away from showing your ass in the grocery store and he just knows

- girl don’t play with him, he’s gonna snatch your ass up (why get groceries when he could just eat you? *queue the sharp canines peeking behind his pretty lips*)

- and it’s not even just when he can smell the slick pooling in your underwear, it’s constantly

- he just follows you around and when the wind blows just right he can smell you through the mask, just you and now he’s crowding you against a tree with heavy hands, teeth latching on to the meat of your throat with a determination you can only describe as animalistic

- kakashi is not possessive, but you’re his and if you ever need a reminder all you have to do is pull down the collar of your shirt to peek at the teeth shaped marks all over the skin of chest

- and when he has to leave for a mission he’s nipping at the skin of your throat and hissing about how you better not let any of them fade before he gets back because if you do you’ll regret it (you’ll spend more time in the morning than you want to admit pressing against the marks on your chest and thighs)

- like c’moooon man, just kakashi leering down at you while your heart is working double time, pattering in your chest until you’re sure it’ll take flight because he looks like he might eat you alive if you make a wrong move— and come to think of it, you really might let him

#naruto headcanons #naruto x reader #naruto smut #kakashi x reader #kakashi smut #kakashi hatake #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi #smut smut smut

[wooobuddyletsgetnasty]

i think I’m back in my Naruto phase

i cannot hide from it 🥲

send help & also requests for headcannons before i die

#send me asks #yes yes yes #AHHH HELP #KAKASHI OR #KIBA OR #KANKURO OR #SHIKAMARU IF YOU SEE THIS #COME HOME #THESE KIDS #THEY MISS YOU #AND SO DO I #crying throwing up chewing drywall #tiktok edits why did you do this

[wooobuddyletsgetnasty]

would anyone hate me if i posted a Rick Grimes smut here???? bro i can’t get him out of my head why is he so fine????

all who want it say yes and all who don’t want it also say yes

#send me asks #yes yes yes #shut up rissa

[wooobuddyletsgetnasty]

You have to write that harwin fic idea now 😭🥹I’m way too invested ♥️

hey siri play another love by Tom Odell.

im on the way 2 break my own heart 😢

#send me asks #yes yes yes #shut up rissa

[wooobuddyletsgetnasty]

somebody write me a story about Ser Harwin Strong falling in love with reader but feeling unable to do anything about it out of respect for Princess Rhaenyra and the children he secretly fathered with her. maybe also out of respect for you as well, because some part of him loves her and it just wouldn’t be fair to you.

so you dance around each other— wandering gazes, lingering touches, useless conversation just to hear each others voices, but it won’t ever be enough.

you need a husband to love. one that will stand by you and be loyal and true to you. Ser Strong could never give you that, you aren’t a fool.

Harwin is content most of the time with his bastard kids and secret nights with the Princess but sometimes; sometimes when he catches a glimpse of your hair in the sunlight, when he sees the way your mouth parts into a longing smile, he thinks he wants a wife— he wants children he can claim.

and you, you could give him that, but would he be able to love you the way you deserve? (read: would he be able to stay away from the princess and her (his) children?)

you find yourself fearing that if you wed Ser Strong he would make a mockery of you, of your marriage. you don’t wish to find out if he could remain true to you, so you decide to marry someone else, despite your love of Harwin. if only you’d met sooner, then maybe you could have given him what he wanted.

Ser Strong is respectful of your wishes, even when his chest burns as you speak about your tryst for a lawful man to marry.

it isn’t as easy to watch you go as Harwin thought it would be, and watching you speak vows to a man that isn’t him is the hardest thing he has ever done.

(EDIT: I’m coming back 2 this because I am still stuck on the idea.

leaving King’s Landing with your husband and when you come back it’s been years. you wish you would have been more insistent about staying home, but alas— you’re back and if the nerves fluttering in your chest tell you anything, it’s that you really shouldn’t have come.

it takes days for Harwin to get you alone— you managing to avoid him at every turn, but you can’t now, as he’s blocking the only exit and looking at you like you’re a goddess walking among men.

AND HE JUST, “I’ve dreamed of you, every night.” you’re trying not to crumble under his gaze, and all you can remember is the way he used to steal the breath from your lungs, but looking at him now, now he just makes them ache.

there are years of hidden feelings bubbling in your chest until you’re sure you’ll throw them up all over the pretty dress that shows the colors of your husband’s house.

he moves in closer and a part of you wishes to jump in his arms, wishes to tell him there’s been a mistake and you never should have wed anyone but him— but you don’t. that would be dishonorable to your husband who has been nothing but kind to you.

with a gentleness a man nicknamed ‘break bones’ should not have, he cradles you at the nape of your neck, gaze matching yours with an intensity you haven’t seen in years.

he cradles you, pressing his forehead to yours, all soft hands and shuddering breaths, until his mouth is parting in a soft sigh of your name, “you’re just as beautiful as you were on the day i lost you.” god graces you the strength to turn your head, “unhand me, Ser Strong.”

you’re a married woman. he has no right to you, no right to touch you this way, and he retracts instantly, an apology falling from his lips. when your eyes meet again, you can see the hurt— but this is his making.

he will never have you, and now, here— as he is looking at you, you’re different than you once were. you quiver, but you don’t bend to him, to the desire for him to tell you he loves you.

And later, when Harwin asks you if you love your husband— you smile, and then you lie through your teeth. of course you love him— he is your husband and he is good to you, but Harwin knows— he can see it in your eyes, in the way they’ve lost their light from the years away from each other— you’ll never love a man that isn’t him.)

I want to cry. I want to fall in love. I want to be sad for DAYSSSS.

someone pls write this for me before I do it myself smh. I hate it here.

#send me asks #yes yes yes #shut up rissa #harwin strong x reader #harwin strong #ser harwin strong #house of the dragon

[wooobuddyletsgetnasty]

Hi girl, I hope you're having a wonderful time! I miss you! Have you by any chance heard of ghost from mw2? He's kinda of taking over my pussy lately and im sharing the good find!

STOP OMG IM GONNA S(CREAM)

literally all of my likes are ghost rn bc i am in love with the murderous masked man who would probably strangle me for talking too much. literally barking i cannot 🥹

pls god don’t let my comeback be for mw2

(ps i am out here livin but miss you so much too 🥲 it’s nice to see tumblr is still breathing)

#send me asks #yes yes yes #shut up rissa

[wooobuddyletsgetnasty]

daemon targaryen x lifelong friend! reader

no one told me to shut up so i am blaming this on you all.

⚠️: canon-divergence, reader is a childhood friend of the prince, reader is considered high-class but no detail as to which house they belong to, hints to reader’s mother being absent/deceased, canon typical treatment of women (fem! presenting reader), mentions of unwanted marriage (reader is going to get out of it, no matter the cost), talks of virginity, mentions of explicit sexual contact (some of this takes place in a brothel but probs not what you think), sexual tension, kissing, dry humping, mutual pining, daemon is a warning by himself, reader is a menace and determined not to be wed to anyone that isn’t the rogue prince and uhhhh i think that’s it.

it is times like these, times when you bite your tongue and smile prettily like your mother taught you to, times when you swallow back what you truly wish to say, that make you miss being a child.

you miss running through the gardens, playing with the horses, sneaking away from your father— you miss the warped sense of freedom that childhood had brought.

‘but you are a woman now, you are no longer a child’, a voice echos in your mind, more like a memory than anything, ‘and women do what they must for their families.’

you feel nothing but bitter when you smile at the Lord your father is planning to wed you to, nothing but bitterness and despair.

your father had thought that one day, the prince you grew up with, the Rogue Prince himself, would ask for your hand. secretly, you had hoped that he would as well— but he had not.

with age, you had become wiser and it was when you were on the cusp of your womanhood that you realized he would never ask for you.

the Rogue Prince would never ask for you, even though you had wished for it— dreamed of it.

it felt like your world would come crashing apart when your father had given up the idea of wedding you off to the prince and started searching for other men to take your hand.

your father had said you were only growing older and with that, your time unwed was shorter with each passing moon.

————

out of all of them, all of your suitors, you despised this one the most.

the Lord whose name is a loss to you— an older one who had lost his second lady wife nigh four moon cycles ago; the one that knows nothing of you, of what you like, of what you wish for the future.

all he knows is you are young, untouched and malleable— he knows he can bend you under his hands and shape you into a perfect lady wife, one in his image.

your father favors him, thinks that he will be more than able to provide for you.

but this man, he is wretched when he leans down, yellowed teeth burning a hole in your memory, rank breath making you swallow a gag, “you are not a real woman just yet, but i will make you one.”

you feel sick, like when your prince had insisted that you could eat one more slice of sweet bread when you were children.

you remember looking up at him, like you always had, a boy who was only a few summers your senior but had enough of a hold on you that you believed every little thing that spilt from his lips.

he had said that you could stomach it so you had swallowed down the last piece, despite the churn of your stomach.

he was wrong, and you had retched up that piece of sweet bread on his shoes almost immediately afterwards.

that is how you feel in the presence of this man, sickly— your stomach souring more with each passing moment.

hot bile rises in your chest— all you can imagine is shackles, heavy and painful.

you will not be the wife of a man who is only after you for your virtue.

————

“i will not wed him.”

your voice is quiet, quieter than you would wish for it to be.

your father halts on the steps of your home, shoulders squaring in a way you know means he will not listen to your worries, “you will do as i say, daughter.”

your voice comes louder this time, more courageous than you truly feel, “i will not be wed to a man like that, a man who is only interested in what is under my skirts, Lord Father.”

your father turns on the steps, a look in his eye you have not seen before, “enough,” with the tone of his voice, all you hear is the lock of your shackles clicking in place, “you will wed who i say.”

his voice is definite and that feeling of despair comes rushing back.

your heart pounds loudly in your ears, and even if you wish to object further— you do not.

you swallow the words of protest down, and rush to your chambers.

later, after the moon has just barely peaked in the sky, that despair— that very hopelessness morphs itself into something else.

this new feeling is white-hot and fucking suffocating, thrumming through your veins until you are sure you will implode.

you have no sadness, no acceptance for your future with that old pig.

all you have left is your anger and it feels biblical.

you devise a plan, one that is irrational and childish— but you do not care. you grab your cloak, fastening it tightly to your shoulders before pulling your hood up.

you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror as you toe closer to your window, nodding in content. you look unrecognizable enough with the hood shadowing your face.

you steady yourself, swinging your lower half out the window, preparing to climb down and make a break for it, while you still have your nerve.

————

sneaking away from your home is no small challenge, but somehow, you still manage to get away unscathed.

it takes little time for you to find yourself in front of a man of the City Watch, and you pull your hood tighter to mask your features, “where is your leader?”

the way his face pulls tells you all you need to know, but you push forward, asking again for confirmation, “the prince, Ser?”

he answers slowly, like he is unsure he should give the information out to you, but he relents, “the brothel.”

not long later, you weave your way through the streets of the King’s Landing, determined to stay out of trouble, stay out of the push of the people moving along. you manage to avoid any danger quite well, in fact, you find that you move fairly quickly when you are motivated by nothing but pure spite.

it does not take long for you to find the brothel. you gaze at the doors, and for a very brief moment, hesitation heavies your feet.

you should not be here, you know that well.

your eyes linger on a couple seated by the door, their hands groping blindly at the fronts of each other, their clothing in utter disarray. it is a lewd show, and you find yourself more unsure of your plan than ever.

however, you bring yourself to swallow your nerves, hands stopping their fiddling with a stray edge on your cloak. the sooner you go in, the sooner you come out.

you steel yourself, you will not leave here with your virtue in tact.

the people outside do not prepare you for what it will be like inside. outside, there were few— inside, there are many.

it is nothing but bare bodies, writhing against each other in the throes of passion. all you can hear are the sounds tearing from their lips, ones that seem more animal like with each passing moment.

you feel diseased, tainted with each step forward.

you shoulder your way through the crowd, dodging the wandering hands trying to grab places they should not be. you ignore the looks of beckoning from strangers that grip at your skirts in an attempt to see what you are hiding under them. you keep your head down in an attempt to seem unwelcoming to any advances, trying to make quick work of finding what you came for.

by mistake, you make eye contact with a man as he laps at the confection of one of the common whores, and you fight off the urge to hastily run away from this place.

you are growing impossibly more uncomfortable with each passing second, but the feeling of imaginary shackles tightening around your ankles spurs you onward.

finding the Rogue Prince might be a more difficult feat than you originally thought.

————

time is lost to you and with that, also is the way you entered. you cannot recall how much time you have spent wandering when you finally catch a glimpse of the telling white of his hair. you make your way to the room you saw him being led to, shoulders lifting in an attempt to keep your identity concealed.

the room is secluded in nature, but not hidden enough for you to not see him over the crowd before the door closes.

and when you peer inside, hesitant in your movements, he is surrounded— three women flanking his sides on the bed, one mouthing at his throat, the other two grabbing blindly at the front of his trousers, too caught up in each other’s mouths to really pay attention to where their hands are.

they are nothing but a blur of bodies, writhing together in a way that makes you wince.

you feel foolish for coming, your hand tugging nervously at the fabric of your cloak again— but you decide you will not turn back now.

you let go of your hold on the cloth, press the door open farther, and step into the candlelight.

the creak of the door does not pull them away from each other, and you feel irritation suffocating in your chest.

you clear your throat in an attempt to draw their attention, it echos off the stone walls, louder than you expect— but it does exactly what you want.

the woman closest to the door, the lone one, turns to look at you, eyes every bit sultry and proud to have a prince in her grasp, “ah.. looks like we have brought an audience, Your Grace.”

you inhale deeply, hands pulling at your cloak once again, despite your desire to seem sure of yourself, “afraid not, my lady. i do, however, need a moment alone with the prince.”

her eyes narrow, features turning sharp, “the prince is occupied, whore. you can see yourself out, or you can wait until we have finished,” she pauses, mouthing again at his throat before finishing, “but that might take all night.”

you feel it again, that biblical anger, the one that makes you feel able to call upon a plague. your tone carries in the room, less kind than the one you had used previously, “you misunderstand. i am not asking you to leave— i am telling you.”

it is enough to draw attention of the other parties in the room, including the prince himself, who says your name in a tone that sends heat prickling down your spine, “well then.. what ever do we have here?”

you raise your chin, a show of defiance, “i must speak with you, Your Grace,” your gaze moves to the woman, “without the presence of harlots.”

when your eyes meet lilac, all you see is amusement, “i am otherwise occupied, sweet one.”

his mouth parts in pleasure at the feeling of one of the women finally making contact with his straining cock, and your irritation returns at his dismissal of you.

when you speak again, your tone is enough to worry him, ringing through the room with an anger he has not heard in ages, “i did not come here to jest.”

when Daemon gazes at you again, he must see something he finds displeasing, every hint of mirth disappearing from his features, “out.”

the three women, the whores, they think him talking to you— but you know better, moving further into the room, no longer blocking the door.

the woman closest to you, the one you find wholly unlikable speaks next, “you heard his highness, get out.”

“not her, whore— the three of you. get out.”

the smug little grin that pulls at your mouth does not leave your features until after the door closes.

————

you give the prince a few moments to collect himself, but he speaks before you can, “now then, after you have taken all the fun of my night away— what is it you need so urgently?”

Daemon settles himself on the edge of the bed, peering up at your restless form from his perch, and all you see when you look at him is your dearest friend— the only man you would ever trust with the task you are about to ask of him.

you pull down your hood in response, licking at your lips in the way he recalls is a nervous tick you have had since you were small, “my father wishes to wed me to a man,” you pause your pacing, anger melding back into hopelessness, “and he is just fucking vile, Daemon. he only wants me for my maidenhood. he does not care for me.”

you take in a deep breath, shoulders quivering with the movement, and in that moment, you remind Daemon of your younger self.

you remind him of the bright eyed nuisance that followed him everywhere like a little shadow, back when things were far more simple— back when his every thought was of one day being your husband.

“do tell, my Lady— what does that have to do with me?”

you answer with no hesitation, hands pawing at the latch of your cloak that rests at your throat, “i want you to take it, Your Grace.”

your cloak hits the ground with a muffled noise of rumpling fabric, “he will not take me as his lady wife if i have laid with another,” you halt your words, making heavy eye contact with the prince, your hands making quick work of the lacing on the front of your bodice, and when your words return, it is quietly, with a tone that makes the Prince’s head swim with thoughts of how you would look spread open at his will, “make me a woman, Daemon.”

he stands, moving towards you, wearing an emotion you do not recognize and a slow heat lights in your veins.

you answer him quickly, moving to meet him in the middle of the room, hands abandoning the lacing on your chest to feel at the broadness of his shoulders.

when he does not stop you, your head tilts in an attempt to press your honeyed lips to his. he does not let you, head moving so your lips press at his cheek and your irritation returns, hands opting to knead at the muscle on his shoulders. your gaze turns every bit tempting when you look up at him, trying to seem cloying with the words you speak, “have me, Daemon— my virtue is yours.”

he captures your hands in his own, his grip tight when he wrenches them away from his frame to hold them above your head and you shudder a noise of pleasure, figuring that he would finally do as you wished.

you do not miss the noise that pulls from his mouth, echoing your need for him back to you in a husk, one that makes slick drip between your thighs.

then, before you have the chance to try anything else— he is pressing you away from him, a sharp “no,” ringing through the room. it reminds you of the way he would scold when you were smaller, when you would do something he did not like.

he did not want you and you pause, your lustful haze disappearing immediately, shame replacing it, slithering down to settle deep in the base of your spine, until you feel nothing but embarrassed at your actions, “no?”

you jerk, attempting to get away from him, from this feeling of rejection. he lets you hastily remove your hands from his grip, turning your head away from him.

when you look back up at him, lip quivering with an emotion he cannot place, he feels guilty for turning you away, but he stands steadfastly, echoing the refusal back at you.

Daemon watches desperate little tears line your bottom lashes in the way that reminds him of the tantrums you would throw when he could play with you no longer, “i will not sully you.”

you turn away again, whole body moving this time, feeling foolish at your measly attempt to seduce your oldest friend, the only man you have ever thought of, the only man you have ever truly wanted, “very well then, Your Grace,” something changes in your tone, something so cold it makes him stiffen, “i do wonder if some of the men in your City Watch would be interested in sullying me.”

there is a sharp intake of breath before he speaks again, voice carrying a reminisce of how he used to protect you when you needed it, “you will do no such thing— if any of them touch you, they will lose their hands.”

you turn, eyes lit with something that Daemon finds wholly attractive, and he cannot help the flicker of his gaze to the heave of your almost uncovered breasts, “you do not have the right to threaten that. if you will not take me, then i will find someone that will.”

you do not see the way his hand raises to grip at the chub on your cheeks until it is too late to dodge him, his hand pressing into the fat on your face until it is almost painful, “watch your tone with me, sweet one, i am not a man that will bend to your requests.”

you move your head in an attempt to get away from his grip, but find yourself unable to shake him off, and despite his remark about not bending to you, his lips are on yours before you can retort something back.

the scent of him— of leather, and dragon fire is so thick you swear you can taste it on his tongue.

it is so delicious, he is so delicious— and this, this feeling, the sharp bite of his teeth against your bottom lip is your salvation.

you find yourself pushing him back towards the bed before you truly realize, but the bed is where you fully intend to push up your skirts and mount him.

your voice is saccharine with desire, with need, “please, Your Grace— take me.”

you find yourself speaking between sloppy, inexperienced slots of your mouth desperately against his, “i want you to take it— i want you to have me.”

his back hits the bed first, your body following his dissent clumsily.

his hands move to your hips in an attempt to steady your weight against him, your own hands caging him between the softness of you, and the softness of the bed.

you wiggle against his iron grip until you are fully straddling him, wasting no time before you begin grinding your weepy cunt against the heat of his groin.

you press against him harder, desperate little jerks of your hips that feel good enough a noise that is nothing but depraved pulls from your throat.

he stops you steadily, with more force than necessary, his hands bruising against the doughy fat of your hips to prohibit the drag of your cunt against the seam of his pants.

his voice is clipped— dripping with barley there restraint, “i will take you, sweet one, when we are wed.”

you stare down at him, doe-eyed, debauched, and dripping with something so heady that it makes his cock jump against the smothering swelter of your cunt.

his eyes flutter, threatening to close, at the very feeling of finally having you after all these years and despite himself, Daemon shoves back the urge to push you face first into the bed and do as you ask, as you had plead for him to do.

instead of doing what he truly wishes, he brushes the fallen wisps of your hair from your eyes, tenderly, like a husband would.

he leans to press a kiss to your lips, saccharine and dripping with promise, and then his voice comes softly against the side of your mouth, something you have only ever heard in your dreams of him mingled in the tone, “i will come for you with the rise of the sun.”

you hope he means that.

#house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd #daemon targeryan x you #daemon targeryan x reader #daemon targeryan smut #prince daemon targaryen

[wooobuddyletsgetnasty]

literally not me coming back for something I have never written for ever. hello???? where am I????

any House of the Dragon fans that I could ramble to???? any???? none??? just me????

i have brain rot for Daemon Targaryen and someone needs to tell me to shut up before I write 2k word essay about how I want him to RAIL MEEEEE AHHHHHH

#send me asks #yes yes yes