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stuckinthesun · 1 year

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The Jacket // R.G. x Fem!Reader

Summary

Rick catches you pleasuring yourself while wearing a familiar article of clothing

Warnings

nsfw, dark themes, kinda murder couple vibes, fem masterbation, voyerism, Dom!Rick, mean Rick, teasing, pet names, fingering, p in v, overstim, pussy slapping

Word Count

2.8k

You don’t even remember what you came into his room for. The moment your eyes landed on the familiar brown jacket, your mind became fuzzy and all other thoughts were forgotten.

That jacket.

The one you’ve seen Rick brutally kill dozens of people in, you could even still see blood permanently stained in the wool collar of it. And when you walked into the man’s room to find it just lying on his bed, heat instantly pooled between your legs.

You’ve been in love with the leader of your group since the moment you met him, and that love only grew the more he protected your group from the dangers of the world.

The two of you weren’t together though. There was tension, to long looks and lingering touches, but never anything more. Life in the apocalypse was so brutal and fast paced that it never left time for anything like that, so you were left to pine.

But now here you stood, in his room, staring at his jacket, the jacket you’ve fantasized about him fucking you in countless of times.

You walked further into Ricks room, like you were in a trance, until you were standing at the foot of his bed, and running your fingers along the rough material of the brown jacket.

It wasn’t just the fact that Rick looked damn good in it, that was just a bonus. No it was the fact that, the moment he got this jacket, something shifted.

You remember being reunited with him after the prison fell, under the dirt and blood he was wearing this coat and you remember thinking, he’s different.

You picked up the jacket, it being heavier than you expected, and buried your nose into the wool collar. It was surprisingly soft against your skin as you inhaled, smelling the old detergent everyone used, soap and something that was distinctly Rick.

It was musky and heady and filling you with warmth, making a small whimper leave your lips. Your fingers gripped the material harder, bunching it in your fists and almost hugging the jacket like a pillow.

You should feel embarrassed, you should stop and walk away before someone undoubtably catches you, but you can’t stop. It feels too good when you squeeze your thighs together, thinking about the way Rick looked killing Gareth, wearing this exact jacket.

“Fuck-“ You moan, finally sparring a glance at the bedroom door. Empty, not a soul in sight.

Am I really gonna do this?

“Besides… I already made you a promise.”

Fuck.

In a split second decision, you rush over and close the door, before going back toward his bed. The jacket feels almost heavenly as you slip it on, the smell of Rick enveloping you and making goosebumps appear on your skin.

You’re on your back instantly, fingers undoing the button and zipper of your jeans. You quickly slip your hand under the waistband of your underwear and pants, fingers sliding between your folds and feeling just how wet you already are.

Moaning you turn your head to the side and bury your nose into the wool collar of Ricks jacket again. His heady scent making your eyes roll back and your hips buck against your hand.

Your heart was beating loudly in your ears, the rush of adrenaline only turning you on more and you had to bite the material to stifle your moans. Your fingers rubbed small, quick circles on your clit, your movement’s limited due to your jeans blocking you.

It wasn’t enough, you needed more, you needed him.

A frustrated whine left your lips.

“Maybe it would feel better if you took your pants off.” A deep, familiar voice said, startling you.

You paled with embarrassment when you sat up to see Rick leaning in the doorway. His arms were crossed, and he wore a smirk as he looked at you with amusement.

“R-rick I–“

“Don’t mind me, keep going sweetheart.” Rick cut you off, stepping away from the doorframe and closing the bedroom door.

He turned around and resumed his position, this time against the wooden surface. His piercing blue eyes burned holes into you, making you squirm, “What?”

“Keep. Going.” Rick said, tone dropping and his face changing from amused to something darker.

The heat in your abdomen returns in full force and you involuntarily squeeze your thighs together. You watch the smirk return to Ricks lips as he watches, and with an embarrassed flush you lay back down.

You resume the position you were in before, on your back with your hand shoved down your pants rubbing your clit. This time though, when you turned your head to bury your nose into the jacket, you turned to face Rick.

Soon your embarrassment was forgotten as you let out a moan, your fingers circling your clit just right. You stared directly at the man of your desires, watching for a reaction.

Wanting to see how Rick would react to you touching yourself on his bed, while wearing his jacket.

All you got was Rick pulling his lips back against his teeth, making a ‘tsk’ sound, as he got off the door and began walking over toward you, “You’re so desperate for it you can’t even properly undress yourself?”

His boots rang like thunder against the hardwood floor, and if you were of clear mind you would’ve found it strange you didn’t hear it earlier. Instead the sound just made your hips buck, and you watched as he stopped in front of you.

You whined as Ricks hands touched your knees and slid down your thighs to rest at your hips. He began pulling your jeans and underwear off, and you stopped rubbing your clit, eagerly lifting your hips up to help him.

Suddenly Rick stopped though, and when you looked at his face confused, you saw he was glaring at you, “Did I say you could stop?”

Your eyes widened and you shook your head. This only made his glare deepen and he tilted his head as he said, “Use your words.”

“N-no, you didn’t.” You choked out, feeling yourself clench around nothing.

“Then keep. Going.” Rick hissed, and you nodded frantically as you began rubbing yourself again.

Seeming satisfied, Rick started removing your pants and underwear again, exposing your aching core and your fingers playing with your clit.

Rick stared at you like he was in a trance, and it made your embarrassment come back while adding to your arousal. You flushed at his stare and moaned as his hands ran up and down the inside of your bare thighs, pushing your legs further apart.

You could feel your release getting closer and you rolled your hips as you whined, “Rick please.”

“Please what?” He asked, his voice sounding hoarse and his eyes never leaving your movements.

“Touch me.”

“I am touching you,” He answered plainly, hands squeezing your thighs as if to prove his point.

His grip only pushed you closer to the edge and you let out a frustrated groan, “But I’m gonna c-cum if I keep-“

“Then cum.” Rick said, finally looking into your eyes, “Isn’t that what you wanted? To make yourself cum while wearing my coat, laying on my bed?”

You moaned, arching your back and clenching around nothing, and his eyes flicked back to your center, “Now I just get to watch.”

That was it, that was all it took. You came with a loud shout, hips bucking against your hand and head turning into the wool collar.

Ricks hands were still rubbing along your thighs as he talked you through it, “That’s it, good girl. Let me see just how good you feel.”

You had barely finished riding out the high of your orgasm before you felt two fingers push inside of you, making you gasp, “You’re drenched from just rubbing your clit?”

“Rick wait!” You cried out, trying to move away from him. His fingers inside of you were too much, the pleasure turning painful. His free hand moved to your abdomen, holding you in place as his fingers curled inside of you.

“A minute ago you were begging me to touch you and now you want me to wait?” Rick teased you, that mean smirk back on his face.

A sob escaped your lips and you closed your eyes as tears filled them, “T-too much!”

“You can take it, sweetheart.” Rick leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Tell you what, doll. I’ll stop teasing you and just fuck you, if you tell me what it is you like about that jacket so much, Mhmm? Sound good?”

As if to seal the deal, Rick began thrusting his fingers in and out of you at a brutal pace. You cried out, arching into him unintentionally. Your hands came up to weakly push at him, trying to get him to stop, but it was useless.

“Come on baby, it has to be something.” Rick cooed, pulling away from your ear to watch your face closely, “I mean, you came in here and put it on to touch yourself. Obviously you like it a lot.”

“I-it’s y-yours!” You managed to get out, hands no longer pushing him away but holding on for dear life.

You opened your eyes saw Ricks pupils dilate but he just shook his head, “No. That might be part of it, but that’s not the whole thing. Come on, why do you like it so much? I mean, it still has blood stains.”

The loud moan that escaped your lips startled both of you. Ricks fingers stopped and your eyes widened in panic.

Shit! He’s going to think I’m insane and kick me out and-

The smirk Rick had before was replaced with something almost manic, “So that’s it.”

His fingers were moving inside of you again, curling instantly to find your sweet spot and making you see stars. The hand on your pelvis began sliding up, pushing your shirt along with it, revealing more of your skin as he stared at you in wonder.

“That’s what it is, you like that I’ve killed so many people and walkers while wearing it, huh darling?” Rick asked, and leaned closer to you. His words, his fingers and his closeness were all pulling you back to the edge. The pain from overstimulation completely gone, and now you were rocking against his hand between your legs.

“So what is it exactly that gets you this wet, huh baby? Is it that I’ve killed people? That I’m capable of killing people? Or that I’m willing to protect the people I care about at any cost?”

You looked at him with teary eyes and choked out, “T-that you’d be willing to k-kill for m-me!”

Ricks face softens just the slightest bit, “Oh sweetheart, I’ve already killed for you.”

Your orgasm ripped through you suddenly, making your hips come off the bed and your juices spray everywhere. You didn’t even realize you were squirting, your senses were zeroed in on how Rick felt finger fucking you as you came down from your high.

Soon it became too much again and you started pushing at him, and this time Rick actually took pity on you. He slipped his fingers from your sopping cunt and put them in his mouth. You heard him moan around the digits as he licked them clean and you blushed when you finally realized what a mess you made.

The front of Ricks shirt was soaked, along with the bed and the jacket underneath you. You blushed deeper at the thought and covered your face with your hands as you huffed out tiredly, “I’m sorry for- Ah!”

You were cut off by a rough slap to your pussy, sending a shockwave through your body and making you flinch violently. You uncovered your face and looked at him, completely taken aback.

Rick just glared at you as he began unbuttoning his shirt, “Finish that sentence and I won’t fuck you.”

Your eyes widen and you instantly clamp your mouth shut. He smirks, shrugging his shirt off, “Good girl, now undress for me.”

Sitting up, you only hesitated a little before letting the jacket slip from your shoulders and pool around your waist. As you pull your shirt over your head, you hear the buckle of Ricks holster. Throwing your shirt to the floor you watch as he sets the gun on the bed next to you.

The idea of fucking with it on the bed makes you squirm in excitement.

The sound of a belt buckle draws you back to the man standing above you, and you look up to see him smirking at you, “You’re one kinky little slut aren’t you?”

You blush a look away from him, instead focusing on unhooking your bra. When you finally got the damn thing unclasped and you let it fall from your chest, you heard Rick make a noise.

Looking up you saw that he was staring at you again. This time at your now exposed chest, and he reached one hand out to squeeze one of your breasts, while the other pulled his belt from the loops of his pants.

You sighed at the feeling of his palm pressing against your nipple, “Please hurry Rick, need you.”

“So impatient for someone who’s cum twice,” Rick teased, letting go of you to pull himself out of his now unzipped jeans.

Then he did something that both shocked and delighted you.

Rick reached down and slid his jacket from around your waist, before bringing it up and slipping his arms into the sleeves.

You shivered at the sight of him, in that jacket, and you can’t help the little whimper that escapes you. Then you realize the positions you’re in, him fully clothed except for his cock and balls, and you completely naked and already soaked in your own juices.

“Fuck,” You moan, and you just can’t help yourself anymore. Reaching up, you grab the collar of the jacket you love so much, and pull him in for a kiss.

Rick instantly kisses you back, one of his hands coming up to hold the back of your head as he pushes his tongue into your mouth. You hum into him, and allow him to push you on your back.

You feel the drag of his cock between your folds, gathering your slick up, and you moan breaking the kiss. Ricks teeth sink into your bottom lip as you feel the head of his cock push against your entrance.

Letting your lip go he groans, “You’re gonna take my cock like a good girl, right?”

“Yes! Yes please let me take your cock please!” You cry out, desperately trying not to roll your hips to try and push him inside of you.

“Good,” Is all the warning you get before Rick pushes fully inside of you in one thrust. You cry out and instantly wrap your arms and legs around him to ground yourself.

You didn’t really register how big he was a moment ago, but now that he’s inside of you, you can feel every inch of him splitting you open.

“R-Rick!” You sob, shaking in his arms, and you feel his beard tickle your skin as he kisses along your neck.

“Take it sweetheart, I know you can.” He growls against your skin, biting down in the crevice between your neck and jaw.

You barely got a moment to adjust before Rick started moving. His thrusts were quick and hard, making your eyes squeeze shut and your toes curls. One of his hands gripped your thigh so tight you were sure you would have finger shaped bruises, while the other stayed planted next to your head.

“Fuck,” It was Rick who moaned, and the sound made your eyes roll to the back of your head, “Feel so good wrapped around my cock.”

“O-oh god,” You whine, lacing your fingers through his hair and tugging.

“Shit baby,” Rick groans, hips stuttering slightly. “This what you wanted, Huh? Me fucking you while wearing this jacket you like so much?”

“Yes! Yes fuck!” You yell, rocking your hips to meet his, “I’m so close Rick please!”

“Come on baby,” Rick grunts, squeezing a hand between the two of you to rub at your sensitive clit, “Cum for me, cum on my cock.”

It only takes a few more thrusts before you do exactly that. You cum so hard it almost hurts, nails digging into Ricks skin so hard you’re probably drawing blood.

The feeling of you squeezing around him like a vice pulls Rick right over the edge with you. He spills inside of you with a grunt, filling you with his hot seed.

You lay there limp when you come down from your high, limbs slipping from around Rick as he carelessly pulls out of you and fall to lay down at your side.

You’re both breathing heavily, you’re throat feels raw from how much you screamed and the cum cooling between your legs feels gross.

You’ve never felt better.

With a happy sigh you turn your head to the side to see Rick already looking at you. There’s a smile on his face and his eyes hold that same amusement from earlier.

“So… my jacket, huh?”

You playfully push his face away.

…idek

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pinkroseblooms · 7 months

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Boy Toy

Sugar baby!Toji Fushiguro x Sugar mama!f!Reader

Summary: You try to break things off with Toji; needless to say, he does not take it well. wc: 5.1 Warnings and tags: this story contains smut, dirty talk, cursing, rough sex, begging, emotional manipulation, toxic behavior/relationships, some soft!dom/bratty!sub elements, a clingyyandere!toji, possessive behavior, obsessive love, some angst, some fluff, all twisted af.

a/n: I see a lot of Sugar daddy!Toji content and wanted to switch things up a bit with some emotional feels. I also ended up listening to Rick Montgomery's "Boy Toy" on repeat and got ideas. Personally I headcanon that if Toji ever did somehow develop genuine love for another person it wouldn't necessarily help him chill out this time around, he'd just become more unhinged.

His things are in a pile, close to the solid red oak door; they’ve been packed away in brand new luggage carriers and on top is the duffle bag Toji had initially used to carry his stuff in for overnight stays.

If it were anyone else, Toji would have expected the various articles of clothing and personal items that had steadily accumulated inside your spacious home to be thrown out carelessly like trash on your equally spacious lawn. That or burning in the firepit.

If it was anyone else but you, it’s what Toji would have expected, but you weren’t petty that way; even now as you stand before him, arms crossed, gaze almost blank, you radiate a certain measure of dignity. It’s one of those things Toji’s come to admire about you over the past year. It’s effortless, that magnetizing charm you exude; he liked it right away.

“You can keep the bags, sell them if you want.” Your lips form a small but rueful smile. “I sent you a check; call it a severance fee.”

“I thought I didn’t work for you anymore.”

Toji hasn’t considered you a client in months, though really, a mark was more accurate. You were disgustingly wealthy with a cute face and that was all he needed to pounce on the offer to be your bodyguard and occasional companion to the odd social events. Even cleaned up and polished, Toji was able to keep others away in droves, exactly what you were aiming for; you found social obligations tedious and his handsome yet intimidating presence kept everyone around you from lingering too long and insisting on taking up too much of your time and attention. Toji spent the first three or so months in your company essentially as an employee and he was satisfied with the arrangement. It would have been so easy and simple, it should have been, had you not burrowed your way into his head, like a bullet piercing bone.

Dammit he never should have fucked you. Toji had every intention of keeping things professional. He should have kept his distance, he certainly shouldn’t have let his fingers trace your skin after zipping up your dress, and damn you by the way for looking over your shoulder at him with those pretty doe eyes and not telling him off when the second you caught Toji leaning in, almost like he wasn’t realizing he was doing it, to get a whiff of your scent mixed with the perfume he had said was his favorite.

“You don’t have to keep the charade up anymore; it’s insulting at this point. I won’t force you to stay here.”

“You’re dumping me.”

“No. That would mean we were actually dating. Toji…Fushiguro-san, I made a mistake.” You’re almost talking to yourself as you look over Toji’s tensed shoulders to the entrance of your home. “I was fooling myself, thinking you could open your heart to me. But, I knew what I signed up for. So, no, I won’t leave you without any job security until you find your next meal ticket.”

“You’re not-”

“I heard you. Please, it’s not like you to back track on your words, so don’t start on my account.”

Toji was bragging over the phone, giving a verbal middle finger to an asshole of a former employer who demanded Toji’s services for a hit. You overheard him refer to you as a “piggy bank” with a pretty face, among other things. Shortly after ending the call, Toji left to work out (he couldn’t get too lazy, got to keep in shape to protect his favorite girl) and grab some food (on your card) only to return to this. You didn't even give Toji a chance to greet you with the usual flurry of kisses and a bear hug before telling him point blank he was leaving and now.

Even as Toji struggles to wrap his mind around your abrupt change in demeanor, with that practiced look of almost serene impassivity, you look so good to him, wearing an oversized sweatshirt and tiny bike shorts. You always dress down at home, in comfy, baggy things. Toji supposes you packed away all the sweatshirts you’ve collected from him with everything else of his.

“You won’t even let me apologize?” Toji stands stiffly in the foyer, next to the bags; behind him is the front door, still open, as if waiting for him to step outside. “It was all shit talking. I didn’t mean how it sounded.”

“That doesn’t make it better and it’s not just that. You’ve been hot and cold lately. Admit it: you can’t bring yourself to acknowledge me as anything but an obligation.” You exhale slowly, rubbing your temple. “I’ve tried to be understanding; you lost your wife and I realized it would be hard. I knew that, I knew there was a chance that no matter how close we became, I was never going to be enough for you.”

You put up a good front, but Toji can recognize the faint tremble in your voice, see how your jaw locks slightly, as though you’re holding back curses. He’s hurt you.

“Baby, c’mere?” Toji opens his arms with a pleading half smile. “You’ve been stressed lately, that’s all. You’ve been working hard and I haven’t been showing my appreciation properly, is that it?”

“Oh spare me. Listen, I won’t swear revenge or sick henchmen on your trail.” You go on, calm as can be, not budging an inch. “The check won’t bounce and all your things are there; if I missed anything, I’ll send it to you. You’re free to go.”

Toji stares at you in disbelief, arms dropping to his sides. You could have just as easily said "you're dismissed" with that cutting tone of yours.

“Are you fucking serious?”

When you fail to respond, he suddenly turns from you, but not to storm off. Instead, Toji slams the front door closed so hard, it’s a wonder the whole structure didn’t come crashing down. You don’t so much as flinch when Toji strides up to get in your face.

“I want my stuff out of these bags.” he snarls. "Now."

“There’s no need to make a scene. It’s not like you’ll be without a benefactor for long; I bet you could find another meal ticket just walking down my driveway. The whole neighborhood is full of lonely rich women, you can have your pick.”

“You’re not a meal ticket. You know that, you know I didn’t mean it dammit!”

“Enough.” You raise a hand up, your voice clipped. “Fushiguro-san, you have your things, plenty of money, and my own promise to leave you in peace. What more could you possibly want? What exactly is it that you’re holding out for? You don’t expect me to fund you indefinitely, I’m sure.”

"Why are you acting like this? Like you don't even give a shit?"

Toji’s hands clenched into fists; he’s radiating power and murderous intent, but you don’t look swayed or even scared. You know he wouldn’t strike you. Just the idea sickens him; no, it’s not you he’s actually angry with.

“I’m a fucking idiot who wanted to show off, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? Fine. Now we’re gonna talk this out like adults, I’ll put this shit back-"

“No, you will not. I want it gone. I want you gone. Don’t you understand?” You tell him firmly, eyes finally averting to the pile of bags. Toji’s puffed chest deflates at the sadness that finally touches your inflection. “I’m disappointed enough as it is; can’t you do this one thing for my sake? Why are you insisting on dragging this out?”

“I want to put it all back.” Toji blurts out stubbornly, so loud his voice echoes in the high ceilings. “You can’t do this to me, I want to stay.”

“Excuse me?” You snap. “What exactly am I ‘doing to you’?”

“Come on, this is so silly, kicking me out over a misunderstanding.” Toji lowers his voice, a smile coming to his lips as he attempts to charm you once again, hands coming up to gently grasp your shoulders. “You’re breakin’ my heart here. You said it yourself, it’s a been over a year, you know me-”

“Do I?”

“Yes!” Toji steps forward, a strained grin on his lips. “You do. You know me and you know you’re my best girl.”

“Out of all the others?”

“Best and only; I haven’t been with anyone else in months.” Toji rubs his hands over your arms but you only give him a look of derision. “I’m not lying; tell you the truth, ever since we went out to the beach, it’s only been you. Remember that trip?” he grins softly, nuzzles your temple; he knows you want to lean into him, you’re just being stubborn. How adorable. He loves when you get grumpy and need his help relaxing. “I showed you how to make a fire and we fell asleep outside on the hammock. That night was something else...you’ve been the only one ever since. Baby, I swear, there haven't been any other women.”

Toji inches closer, hands shaking slightly where they grip your shoulders; his love bites are still visible, some more faint than others; his arms ache to hold you. You’re so close, so what’s with this wall you’re putting up?

"I want to believe that."

"It's the truth."

Toji isn’t sure how or when it began, but before he knew it, you were calling just to talk and ask how he was doing, if he needed anything. You requested he join you not just for meetings as extra muscle or posing as a date, but on walks and meals, having conversations about the weather to debates about the nature of man to whether toast was better with jelly or jam. You’d take Toji out randomly on shopping trips and end up buying him pretty much anything that caught his eye. Anything Toji wanted, he got, and along with it you increasingly showered him with praise and affection.

When the sex began Toji thought he got you out of his system the first time, only to end up not just repeating these trysts, but staying longer and longer after he fucked your brains out. It was borderline embarrassing, how quickly Toji found himself lulled in by your pillowtalk as you encouraged him to sleep in, promising you’d have breakfast ready for him in the morning. Sometimes, Toji would come over when you weren’t even home with the spare keys you gifted him and promptly burrow himself in your bed until you were due home. The whole room smelled sweet and it was so cozy being wrapped in the down blankets. Toji's eyelids would get heavier as he wallowed in your scented sheets ike a pig rolling in mud until the combined aromas of your perfumes, lotions, and natural scent clung to his nostrils, soothing and oddly familiar; within minutes Toji would be out like a light. After some of the best rest he had ever gotten, Toji would wake up to you stroking his head, petting him like a dog, and asking him what he would like for dinner.

Eventually, inevitably, came the point of no return. During that beach trip Toji told you about his past; he didn’t go into too much detail, mainly that he had loved someone and he was pretty sure lightning only struck once. You didn’t get jealous or angry; you simply kissed his knuckles and put your hand over his, not saying much of anything while Toji spoke. That night on the beach you held his hand and allowed him to reminisce at his own pace into the early hours of the morning, until he was too exhausted to do anything else but hold you and the two of you stayed that way until noon.

That peaceful, almost unreal night, Toji realized you actually gave a shit about him and he didn’t know what to do with that. Regardless, you made it clear you didn’t expect to own his heart and soul. You only promised to take care of him.

“I was being stubborn, you know how I get sometimes. You’re my one and only, baby, can’t we just forget about it?”

“I want you to leave.”

“No.”

“It wasn’t a request.”

“No!”

Toji’s hands cup your cheeks and he winces at the disgust in your eyes; why are you looking at him like that?

“Okay, okay, let me make it up.” Toji’s voice is sweet as pie; he leans in, practically purring in your ear. “Let’s go upstairs. I’ll show you how sorry I am.”

“Get. Off. I knew you were shameless, but this is...”

You might as well have slapped him across the face; Toji’s smile falls as you glare like he’s some repulsive insect, a leech, like the thought of him touching you is making your skin crawl.

Toji’s hands retract from your face, expression blank. “You’re really serious.”

“Don’t give me that kicked puppy look. As if you don’t have women on speed dial to call up. Why don’t you make up with one of your other meal tickets? I’m sure they’ll have forgiven you by now for however you wronged them-”

“I told you there isn’t anyone else. Don’t do this.” Toji mutters, head hanging; his chest throbs, he can feel sweat trickle down his temple. “Don’t make me go.”

It’s doubtful you could forcibly remove Toji from your presence, but that’s beside the point. It doesn’t mean anything if you don’t want him.

“I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.”

“No, I’m really sorry.” Toji falls to his knees. “Don’t make me go.”

“Hey, wait, what are you…?”

Toji wraps his arms around your thighs, face pressed into your waist; you stiffen but he hangs on tighter, fingers digging into your hips almost painfully.

“Please, don’t make me. I wanna go upstairs, back to our bed. Listen, I,” Toji pries himself away from you just enough so he can look at you with glassy eyes. He’s panicking now, babbling and frantic as you try to pry off his arms. “Stop that! Baby, I got all messed up about getting too attached and I-I didn’t mean anything I said, you gotta believe me.”

“Toji, let go!”

A cold sweat makes Toji’s already tight shirt stick to his tensed back muscles; he feels like he’s being choked. How could you do this to him? All he wants is to stay with you, whether it’s as a bodyguard, a hired companion, a fuck toy, hell, he’ll settle for being your pet if that’s what it takes to get you to take him back.

"You promised you'd take care of me." he mutters, ignoring your vain attempts at freeing yourself from his unyielding hold. "I don't...want it to be anyone else."

Toji won’t let you go. You’ve made him lazy and spoiled with your pampering; he doesn’t have to work if he doesn’t want to, never has to worry about money or food or rent, and he never has to wake up alone anymore. Whether Toji’s angry, tired, bored, or as of late, happy, you’re the first person he thinks of. You give him everything and now you’re trying to cut him off.

"You let me go right now!" You slap at his shoulders, try to pull back his head from where it's pressed into your midsection. "Are you even listening?!"

With a distressed moan, Toji nuzzles your tummy, kisses the skin peeking out from your sweatshirt riding up under his forearms; his rough hands relax their grasp a fraction to caress your hips.

“Let me stay. I won’t answer calls from my old bosses, I’ll quit betting. If I look at another woman, gouge my eyes out. All you have to do is tell me how to fix things.” Toji smiles at you, one he knows makes women weak in the knees. “Don’t be mad at me anymore. I’ll make it up, I swear. I’ll do anything you want.” he promises between kisses and nips to your skin. “Why are we wasting time arguing? You know, I can make you feel so good. My poor baby, spending all day working so damn hard; you deserve better. I'll help take the edge off...you’d like that, wouldn’t you? I can help, just-”

“Toji, stop-”

“Just let me dammit!”

Toji feels you freeze up; you’re looking back at him with wide eyes. His stomach drops like a rock.

“Sorry…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

No. Now you look scared, maybe a bit concerned; is that for him? Toji can feel some warmth creeping into his chest in spite of everything; you’re so good to him. You went to so much trouble for him and he has no idea why.

You can’t do this. You can’t treat him like a thing to be cherished and then take it all away. Toji just wants things to go back to how they were that morning, with you feeding him berries and syrup drenched pieces of fluffy pancakes, giving him teasing kisses in between each bite, asking what his plans were for the day as he lounges in your lap, wondering what he did to deserve to be so content and full and happy. You made him so happy.

“Shit.” Toji sniffs; he can feel them coming but can’t stop the tears leaking from his eyes. “Shit.” he curses again, bowing his head until it’s resting against your tummy again. “You can’t…you can’t leave me. I won’t let you. I won’t let you abandon me. I can’t-”

“Toji, calm down.” Your voice softens considerably. “Look, do you understand why I’m upset with you?”

“I know, I know I fucked up okay?” Toji croaks, still clinging to your legs. “So what the fuck am I supposed to do, huh? I already said I would do anything you want, so just tell me!”

“Sh, come on, breathe. I need you to calm down, alright?” You bend at the waist slightly, to card your fingers through his damp hair. “Okay, I believe you. I do. I believe you, Toji.”

“Are you gonna kick me out still?”

“No, I won’t for the time being. We can sit down and talk about-whoa!”

Toji wastes no time; he has you lifted off the ground in his arms. You quickly wrap your arms around his shoulders as he makes a beeline for the stairs.

“Slow down!” You glance backward in disbelief at how easily he bounds up the carpet steps. “How are you so strong? Don’t drop me, okay?”

But Toji doesn’t answer; he practically bolts, finally reaching the next level, races down the hallway until he’s at the door to your-the bedroom he and you share. Toji’s heavy boot easily kicks the door open, somehow without breaking it off the hinges; in record time you’re on the bed, but shockingly, Toji doesn’t start stripping you down.

“Toji?” You ask tentatively; he seems fairly out of it and you can’t help feel worried. “Toji, what are you doing?”

“Baby, I’m tired. Let’s just go to bed, huh?”

Toji kicks off his boots, gently sits you down in the middle of the mattress among the fluffy pillows and the cheap plush bunny he won for you at a crane machine. Nearly hyperventilating, Toji climbs into bed after you, snatches the sheets and comforter to wrap around the two of you in a soft cocoon. Toji grabs you, cradling you in close as he tries to even out his breathing; for a fleeting second you wonder if this is what stuffed animals felt, if they could become sentient, when children held them tight for comfort. Your attention is brought back by the man rubbing his face into your hair insistently, as if he could tell your mind had briefly wandered.

“Hey, are you-?”

“Don’t make me go.” Toji cuts you off hoarsely. “You love me, right?”

“I do.”

“Say it.”

“I do love you.” You confess sincerely, words muffled slightly due to your face being squished into his chest; his heart is beating a mile and minute. “I was hurt, alright? I want to be good to you, Toji. You have to let me though; you’re not the type to dance around an issue. I just want you to be honest with me and yourself.”

“Yes, yes, I want that. You’re so good to me, baby, thank you.” Toji wraps his legs around yours; if there was a way for you to mold into him he’d make it happen. “Can I move my stuff back in?”

“I…” You hesitate. “Maybe we’re moving too fast.”

“What? No we aren’t. If anything, we're not moving fast enough. Are you still thinking of leaving?” Toji grabs your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him; his eyes look crazed. “You’re not right? You just fucking said you loved me-!”

“Hey, hey.” You put your hands over his gently. “If you really meant what you said before, you have to listen and be good. Can you do that for me?”

Toji nods quickly. You smile for him, finally, and it's a sight for sore eyes. How do you always look so pretty? Toji’s chest throbs and he hugs you, making your ear press against his heart; you can hear it, right? It almost stopped dead when you were glowering at him, Toji still can't believe he was so close to losing this. It's not going to happen again.

“I wanna touch you.”

Toji separates from you as abruptly as he had squeezed you to him; he hovers above you, tugging on the band of your shorts, your panties. He groans pitifully when you still look unsure. Toji hikes your legs up until your ass is pressed to his chest and he’s face to face with your pussy, still covered up. That won’t do: wordlessly, he rips the seams of your shorts apart and pulls your panties to the side. Gently spreading your pussy lips with his fingers, Toji makes sure to look you in the eyes while he lets a long trail of spit trickle from his tongue to your exposed clit.

“See?” he licks a long strip over your slit, salivating at the taste. “I’m drooling for it, just like a dog….heh, I can be your dog. Is that what you want? I’ll fetch and roll over and beg.” he traces his tongue around your swollen clit. “All you gotta do is ask.”

You can barely form words, forget making requests, as Toji slobbers, licking and sucking until you’re dripping wet. Your hands grip the pillows and your head rolls back and forth; you can hardly speak and you’re more squealing than moaning when Toji starts using his fingers to fuck your soaked pussy.

“I’m loyal too. You’re not ever getting rid of me.”

Toji pulls back, kisses and nips the inside of your thigh as he watches his fingers disappear inside you over and over again. He’s smiling down at you, dumbly, in a daze as you let out soft cries with every pump of his wrist, every time his thumb rubs a touch too hard on your clit. He’s the only one who gets to see you like this, composure gone, face flushed, eyes wide, hardly able to do more than moan and whine at his touches. Toji’s smile turns devilish; he purposefully pulls his fingers out and shoves them back in to draw out the squelch sounds from how wet he’s made you. He slowly drags his fingers out all the way and you inhale sharply from the sensation.

“It’s my turn to spoil you.”

Toji lowers your hips down on the sheets and quickly shrugs off his sweatpants and underwear; his cock bobs when it’s released and you’re a bit shocked at how hard he is despite not touching himself.

“Let me fuck you.” Toji rocks his hips, cock over the inside of your thigh. “You still want me, right?”

And if you think he’s going to stop at one round, if you think for a second one time is going to be enough and you somehow still plan to have him out on his ass, maybe you don’t know him. Toji’s fingers dig into your ass; he’s rutting now, throbbing and dripping precum all over you and the bedspread. It brings a twisted grin to his face, like he’s marking his territory. After all, this is where he belongs. If you won’t be persuaded by his touch and words alone, Toji has other ways, he just doesn't want to resort to making you afraid of him.

Because he meant exactly what he said: you're not getting rid of him. If you try to, Toji will just come back. If you run, he'll chase, if you hide, he'll come looking. You've made him into this.

“’M being good, yeah?” Toji lowers his head to your chest to slobber over your nipples next, barely able to speak with his lips sucking and his tongue flicking over them. “I can keep making you feel good, just let me fuck you, let me put in in, let me wreck you-”

“Toji, I want to ride your cock tonight.” You play with his hair and kiss his jaw. “Can I?”

Toji doesn’t hesitate; he throws himself back to lie on your pillows, getting even harder as your scent hits him. He licks his lips in anticipation as you straddle him, stroking him once before lining the tip up with your pussy. Toji’s eyes roll in the back of his head as you slowly sink down, clenching tight; he has to grab at the sheets and force himself to be still, has to keep telling himself this is for you, he’s going to go at your pace and show you how good he can be, obedient and careful. You’ve got him wrapped around your finger and he loves it-

“It almost hurts. You're so hard.” You gasp when you’re fully seated on his cock. “Oh, Toji…are you going to cum soon?”

“Nah, don’t worry about that baby.” Toji grins up at you, face flushed and hands shaking as they cling to the pillowcase. “So good…it feels so fucking good when I’m all the way inside. Go on, use my cock to cum, ride me until your pussy can’t take it.”

You tilt your hips so the tip of Toji’s cock rubs against that spot that makes you see stars and your clit gets rubbed against him with every thrust. At first you have your hands over his chest, but when Toji tries to slide his hands up to grab at your tits, you stop him.

“Huh?”

“No, you don’t get to touch me.” You pant out, gently but firmly holding Toji’’s hands above his head. “Tha-that’s your punishment.”

Toji’s brow furrows; he’s practically pouting. He knows he said "anything", but he wants to touch you so badly. Your tits look good enough to eat, nipples slick and begging to be played with, and your skin feels like silk on his fingers. Toji watches, biting the inside of his cheek, tasting blood when you start bouncing, thighs taut and face contorted in pleasure as you get closer and closer to making a mess on his lap.

“Baby,” Toji groans. “Come on, let me, you’re close right? It’ll feel better.”

“I can cum like this.” You say playfully as you tap his pursed lips with one finger. “You said you'd be good.”

“Just wanna touch you....” Toji’s hands twitch but he doesn’t shake off your grip; he raises his hips and you let out a whine. “Please?"

You stop moving and Toji grits his teeth, staring at you with wide eyes.

“Hey…why did you stop?”

“Sorry,” You smile in genuine delight. “You’re really adorable, you know that?”

“Fuck, keep goin’,” Toji nibbles the tip of your finger before you pull it away. “Come on, keep making my dick wet,”

“So cute.” You cup his face and press a long, loving kiss to his forehead. “I love you, Toji, I really do.”

Toji can’t stop himself; he yanks you down, traps you in his arms and thrusts up.

“Ah!”

“Sorry, ‘m sorry baby. I gotta,” Toji slurs. “Ah fuck it.”

You shriek as Toji flips you over; he has your legs spread and lowers his face down to suck and kiss and bite at your breasts, slamming his cock as deep inside your pussy as he can go. He briefly touches your hair, patting your head as you scream and writhe, smiling down at you so warmly even as his cock splits you open.

“Can’t help it. Need it, need this so fucking bad.”

Toji latches onto your neck, sucking so hard you think he might tear the skin; you cry out and your nails accidentally scratch long, red lines down his back and shoulders. You’re clawing and sobbing, completely overwhelmed underneath him. He’s fucking you like an animal with no regard for pacing or rhythm, holding you down and open for him to slam his cock inside your swollen little pussy. Toji straightens up to grind himself into you just the way he knows you like best, gently rubbing away at your clit, smirking at the way you gush around his cock. You’re so pretty like this, flushed and messy for him.

“Tell me again. Tell me you love me and I’ll make you cum so hard your legs shake.”

“Love you,” You gasp, arms wrapping around Toji’s bulging neck, drawing him in closer; you press kisses over his cheeks, nose, chin. “I love you, I-ah!”

Toji is done being patient; he keeps his thumb pressed down on your clit, rubbing it harshly as he grinds his cock right into that spot, deep and hard; you’re never going to forget how his cock feels. Toji kisses you none too gently, lips prying your mouth open as he shoves his tongue down your throat; he really doesn’t even mean to be rough this time. The desire to devour you is overtaking him.

He’s so close. Your pussy’s soaking, his head’s spinning; just before Toji’s about to cum, you muster up enough energy to hold him back tightly and pet his hair, moaning softly into the kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist. Toji wanted to last longer, but it’s too much. Abruptly, he breaks the kiss and his mouth goes to your jugular; Toji swears he can feel your pulse under his teeth.

“Cum inside me.” You plead, whimpering into his ear. “I want it…want you, Toji, no one else.”

“Shit.” Toji presses his forehead to yours, hiking up your thighs; the bed is creaking and shaking with the force of his thrusts. “I love you so fuckin’ much.”

Toji goes rigid and still as he cums, cock suddenly painfully sensitive; when you smile tiredly and kiss the palm of his hand, actual tears well up in the corners of his eyes. It’s all too much. He didn’t know he could even still feel like this, feel much of anything anymore. You shudder from his hot cum gushing inside you, but Toji doesn’t pull out just yet and you don’t seem in a hurry to move him anyway.

“I think you broke my dick.”

“...pardon me?”

“Pretty sure your pussy drained me dry…fuck.” Toji chuckles tiredly, very slowly pulling himself out, smiling in satisfaction as his cum seeps out of you and onto the sheets. “Did you like that?”

“I loved it.” You tell him softly, just beginning to catch your own breath as Toji uses his shirt to gently wipe you clean between your legs. “Toji?”

“Yeah?” Toji tosses his shirt somewhere and lays over you. “You want me to get you something? I bet you’re real tired after that.”

You pause; you look very serious all of a sudden, all business once more. “Toji, we really should talk about ‘us’. I don’t think we can just return to what we were.”

“What? But you said you loved me.” Toji raises his head to glare at you. “You’re not seeing other men, so put that idea out of your fucking head.”

“That is not what I meant!”

“Okay…what is it then?”

“I was going to say, are you sure this is what you want?” You ask carefully, looking into his eyes. “Is this really what you want?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Toji can’t believe you even have to ask; he frowns and clicks his tongue impatiently. “Fair warning, I’ll find you if you try to leave before I wake up.”

“I don’t doubt it, you’re an excellent tracker.”

“I mean it.” Toji mumbles into the crook of your neck, his heavy arm over your stomach. “You run, I’m hunting you down.”

“I wasn’t planning on making a grand escape; I was thinking something more along the lines of breakfast in bed.” You suggest and smile at the way Toji’s visibly perks up. “Oh, have you had dinner yet?”

“No, I came straight here from the gym.” he lies, eager to have you fuss over him. "I'm really hungry..."

“I’ll order in something; what do you want?”

“Anything, just get lots of it.” Toji squeezes you. “But don’t go yet though. Wanna stay like this a little longer.”

“Whatever you want.”

In minutes, Toji is snoring and curled up in your sheets like a tuckered out puppy; his leg even kicks randomly. When he wakes up to the smell of warm food and your nails gently scratching his scalp, Toji yawns with a groggy smile and opens his mouth for you to feed him, licking crumbs off your fingers greedily. You really do spoil him.

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carlplsrailme · 2 years

Text

𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭 | 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐥 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬

carl grimes x fem!reader

cw: handjob, thongs, slight mean!dom!reader and sub!carl

summary: shopping for clothes should be simple, even now in the apocalypse. but when you can only find a thong in this heat you're forced to wear it, and when carl notices your straps wrapping at your waist, he about dies.

request: Carl and reader going on a run for clothes, and the only thing the reader can find that fits her is a thong, Carl can't stop thinking about it, and when he sees the waist hands peeking from her shorts while they're with the others, he gets hard and has to leave early but reader knows why and follows him;)

Maybe the Reader is more dominant in this one? :3

"this is bullshit" you huff, nail gliding on fabric after fabric, trying to find at least one item that would fit you.

"just keep looking...you'll find something soon" carl hollers from across the store, you bit your lip to keep back your remarks about how it's easy for him to say with him finding everything immediately. he didn't have to sort through thousands of crop tops to not even find a full-length shirt.

wiping the sweat off your forehead as the dry heat sinks into your open pores, looking down at the pile of shirts and dust you start to consider that crop top.

but you don't need a crop top. you need underwear, embarrassingly enough.

yeah, some shirts would be fine. but switching through 2 pairs of panties in this summer isn't an option anymore

you sign and kneel back down in front of another box, tossing mix-match socks behind your shoulder before finally seeing some thin fabric.

you freeze before reaching down, one finger holding it up as you examine the black thong

it's all they had. it's all you can get.

"found something?" shit.

"uh..yeah" you ball the little number in your palms before whipping your head back and forth looking for your bag to shove it in

"woah, what's that?" you hear him say in almost a chuckle, for the first time this summer you feel your blood run cold as you stare into the box of clothing wondering what to say

"clothes. remember?" you try and say naturally to keep it together. it's not like he'd care, it's mostly you that would care with how sexual thongs are

"well...alright. let's get going, my dads gonna freak if we take any longer" he rambles and you reach over to drop the panties in your bag when you assumed he looked away

"oh. woah"

you clench your fist tight as you know there's no getting out of this.

"was that...a thong?" carl asks, flustered

"yeah, it was. it's the only one they had." you whisper slightly while grabbing your bag and standing

he stared wide-eyed at you like he's picturing the most lewd things imaginable

you check him with your shoulder for him to snap out and with him stumbling to catch up with you. as you sped walked to the car all you could think about was just going home.

okay, this is more comfortable than you imagined.

you rest a hand on your hip as everyone packs up, they all just got here and seem to be already dying from the heat. you internally smile about how your shorts fit you today, looks aren't everything in the apocalypse but dammit wearing a thong makes you feel like it is.

anyway, the whole group is out today. and lucky carl got to test drive his way here so you know what that means. cocky. cocky. cocky.

it won't stop talking about how he was soo smooth and how even rick gave him the go-ahead to drive himself home -I think he was just as sick of hearing him brag-

as everyone started moving he kept talking to you, giving you pointers and tips because he's the all-knowing of course.

you let him have his fun but with almost an hour in you're sick of it now. you even noticed rosita side-eyeing you with a look of "really? he's still going?"

but once we made it to our location he seems to quite a bit, with boxes being moved to cars and cans being thrown into backseats we were finishing up with the first stop

maggie called out to you, pointing to a box in the corner that was seemingly forgotten, and asked if you could get it. you nodded and walked over to it just to hear footsteps following

"oh! y/n-" he goes off again and you tune out, bending over to grab it as you lift the heavyweight

you felt off and that's when you realized it was because he stopped talking. you almost spun around with a cocked brow just to see him staring at your lower stomach with the redess face you've ever seen

you almost smirk while looking down to see the hands of your thong wrapping around your waist

"carl, get over yourself" you mumbled while rolling your eyes, walking past him. with your hips swaying you smiled

sliding the box into carls truck bed you hop into the car to see him very carefully sitting down

"the fucks wrong with you?" with his hands on his lap you immediately knew the problem. good news is, you also knew how to solve it.

"seriously? from pantie straps?" you almost laugh at him, watching as he slightly squirmed from trying to hide his boner

"you can't make fun of me! do you know how hard it is for me when these summers roll around, now you're wearing thongs!" he babbles but you just reach over and palm him through his jeans, he groans out and you noticed the other cars have already left to the next location.

"fuck, we need to make this quick" you mumble before pulling him free, his cock almost red from being teased and strained so much just from his dirty mind.

his red tip oozed pre-cum as veins bulged out, you slide your thumb on his tip getting a jolt from him

"always the sensitive one" you murmured before stroking his cock, his eyes were screwed shut as your wrist works wonders

"do you know how fucking annoying you were today? tips? you think I need tips from someone who learned to drive a week ago? ya'know, I was planning to go off on you after you came into the car...looks like you had other things to worry about." your hand went faster, he mercifully bucked his hips into your hand as he whimpered and groaned

"getting worked up over some panties." you say almost through your teeth, he cries out sorrys and you feel a grin touch your lips

with one final groan, he came all over your hand, you sighed and wiped them off with a napkin nearby as you look ahead at the vacant road.

his breathing is still heavy as he tries to put himself back into his pants with shaking hands, he looked to you and you just glared at him

"wanna show me how great you can drive? or am I gonna have to blow you next?"

an: HEYYYYY YOU GUYS! I missed you so much <3 I saw this request and it was too good not to do! I'm so sorry I dip in and out, If I'm gone for like 3 months after this I'm so sorry :( I'm trying to put school first and hope you can understand <3 I love you guys so much and I hope you enjoyed this <3 mwah!

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winterrsun · 10 months

Text

I’m in charge

Negan x reader SMUT

18+ only, mdni

Warnings: degradation, mentions of torture, dom! Negan, mild exhibitionism, mild knife play, squirting, scary/ mean Negan (basically just his true personality, but no actual violence occurs in story)

Authors note: this is not only my first the walking dead fic but it is hands down the filthiest thing I’ve ever written, it and me are depraved. Hope you enjoy. Let me know if you want a part 2 because it’s low key already half written in my head….

Summary: Negan coerced reader to be his wife at The Sanctuary in exchange for leaving her people at Alexandria alone - but reader founds out they’ve also been holding Daryl prisoner and abusing him . When she goes to confront Negan it doesn’t quite go as planned and he quickly reminds her who’s in charge.

You stormed through The Sanctuary, up the stairs towards Negan’s office. A few people eyed you wearily as you basically pushed past them in the corridor, not even noticing as the conversation you’d had a few hours earlier rang fresh in your mind.

It was only recently that Negan had let you start making visits to Alexandria, even more recently that he’d permitted you to go alone. You’d been living at The Sanctuary as his ‘wife’ for nearly a year now, and you’d built up a surprising level of mutual trust in that time. Especially given you weren’t exactly there willingly. But he’d always taken a liking to you, ever since he first met your group that night outside the camper van.

You were disgusted and terrified of him, but at the same time even then you couldn’t deny a level of chemistry and physical attraction that streamed between you when you first locked eyes. It was what had allowed you to convince him to spare Glenn, you were sure of it.

Then whenever he and his saviours would visit Alexandria to collect their haul, he’d always make a point of seeking you out and starting conversation. Until one day he made his offer; that you go with them back to The Sanctuary and the community at Alexandria will be left alone, never having to split their supplies with The Saviours again. Holding an alliance with them that near ensured no other group would dare try to attack the community. It was an offer far too good to refuse, though Carol and Rick and Daryl had tried to convince you to.

It was hard at first, almost unbearable, missing your family and settling into a cold, strange new home that felt like a twisted cross between a shitty summer camp and a military academy. But you managed, like you always did. Negan’s likeness towards you only grew and it didn’t take long for you to become his wife. In fact, you’d be lying if you didn’t admit it had made life more bearable. Both for the luxurious living quarters and the somewhat weird sisterhood type friendship you’d struck with the other wives. And yeah, the sex was pretty damn good too.

Yes, things were really not as bad as you’d expected they would turn out for you here, especially since you started visiting Alexandria and your family. You’d made the trip this morning, taking the drive filled with the usual joyful high of anticipation you got at the prospect of seeing everyone. Except not everyone was there when you arrived.

You didn’t notice at first; why would the absence of one individual jump out at you immediately? But you did notice the way everyone behaved, it was different. They seemed…sad, and nervous. It didn’t take long for Carol to ask the question that shattered the glass for you.

“Have you seen him? How is he?”

“Who?” You asked, heart beat fast increasing at the unease of the situation. You glanced around and clocked Rick and Carl, Glenn was with Maggie hushing Hershel. You didn’t see Daryl anywhere and knew before Carol’s answer left her lips.

“Daryl, they’ve had him for weeks. He’s being held at The Sanctuary. Nobody even knows if he’s still alive, we haven’t heard anything for at least a week.”

After gathering what more information you could you fast turned on your heels and commenced your mission you were closing in on now; confronting Negan immediately. You’d all but left in a cloud of dust to the cries of “be careful” from your friends and family.

But what did you care about being careful? The Saviours weren’t some terrifying, unknown threat anymore. They were your home now. Negan was technically your ‘husband’ for Christ’s sake. And he had been imprisoning and possibly torturing one of your best friends right under your nose for weeks without telling you a thing. Needless to say, you were beyond pissed.

That feeling of outrage was what fuelled your actions as you flung open the door to Negan’s office, hardly registering the dozen or so saviours sat around the conference style table. Negan was standing when you entered, at the far side of the table from where you stood, and he and every other person in the room immediately turned their heads to look in your direction at your loud entrance.

You didn’t hesitate to march across the room, around the table, up to Negan. “You want to explain to me what the FUCK is going on with Daryl and WHY you didn’t tell me he’s here?” You demanded. You were panting slightly both from the rushed journey you’d made up to the office and from the angry adrenaline currently pumping through your body.

Negan remained silent for a few moments before he answered you in a dangerously low tone. “Sorry doll, did you not notice I’m in the middle of a meeting?”

You stupidly continued “I don’t give a fuck about a fucking meeting, Negan. I want answers now. I get to Alexandria to find my friends and family distraught and they tell me you’re holding Daryl here prisoner. Starving him and beating him, how could you fucking do this? You better start explaining!”

You realised you’d gone too far before you’d actually finished the last word. You felt, more so than heard, Simon scoff somewhere to your left. For the first time since you’d walked in you began to feel self conscious of all the eyes in the room that were now darting between Negan and yourself. He smirked a little, and slowly turned to look at his followers, as if daring them to react to your boldness. His eyes met yours again, as he started to speak in a tone that was downright scary this time.

“You don’t get to fucking demand answers of me. You don’t get to demand anything. Don’t you dare forget your real place here”.

You looked down, at a loss for words finally, and softly bit your lower lip. You’d fucking done it now. Maybe he’d let you leave quietly if you acted apologetic and submissive now. Yeah, right.

He forcefully grabbed your jaw and yanked your head upwards so you’d look up at him again, his finger tips pressing in harder than necessary. “You look at me when I talk to you. You think you can barge in here, act all tough and bratty in front of my soldiers. Fucking think again.” Your eyes glanced sideways and briefly met Dwight’s, and Negan’s gripped on you tightened even further. “Don’t look over there, look at me. Don’t take your fucking eyes off me. You made this choice and now you will have to be on the receiving end of one loud wake up call. Don’t for a second think that my fondness for you means you have ANY authority here, you do NOT!”

You jumped as he yelled the last words, and your legs began to tremble as you looked up at him, neck and jaw beginning to ache.

“Now my men are gonna think that you think you can run circles around me. I can’t fucking have that. So we’re going to have to show them, and remind you, who exactly is in charge here. Get on your fucking knees, now.”

You slowly lowered yourself one leg at a time onto your knees, while he maintained his unrelenting grip on your lower jaw. It hurt your neck even more to look up at him from this angle, but you didn’t dare break eye contact.

“Open your mouth” he commanded. You did so immediately, and he did something he’d never done before. He spat right into your mouth.

You felt shameful and disgusted as the wet deposit landed on your tongue, but also the tell tale sign of heat and excitement began to prickle your body at this lewd act. You didn’t move, knowing better than to act without instruction.

A few second later, he uttered one more word; “swallow”. And you did, feeling the cold liquid run down your throat before blinking up at him.

His eyes softened, just a tiny bit, before they resumed their darkness. “Unzip my fly” he instructed next.

Fighting the urge to glance at your audience, you began to reach your hands towards him. Your heart pounding against your chest and in your eye drums. Your fingers softly brushed the fabric of his pants before he broke, and swatted them away motioning for you to get up.

“We don’t have time for any more of this now, we’ve got real shit to deal with” he said. You felt relief wash through you at the prospect of this almost being over. “Wait for me in your room, go straight there now” he instructed. Maybe not so over just yet.

“Yes, sir” you replied timidly. The first time you’d spoken since the dynamic shift has happened between you, and your tone of voice couldn’t have changed more.

You quickly exited the room with your head down and your cheeks burning red, tears stinging your eyes that you refused to let fall out until you made it back to your room.

It had been over an hour, but you hadn’t done much other than alternate between nervously pace around your room and sit on your bed staring at the door. You hadn’t really seen him like that before with you. It reminded you, shudderingly, of how he first treated your group when you met him. You cast your mind back to Abraham and were overwhelmed with dread. You had forgotten just how dangerous the man you lived with was. You supposed it was a self preservation effort; you knew you had to play the role of his wife regardless, so it was easier to live in denial and try to make the most of it. You felt shameful about that now, it was selfish and dumb.

You wondered if he’d actually hurt you. Maybe he’d throw you in the cell with Daryl. At least then you’d get to see Daryl. God you couldn’t stop thinking about him. On the way back to The Sanctuary your mind had more been preoccupied with being pissed off at Negan concealing this from you than actually worrying about Daryl’s safety. Yeah, Carol said they’d beaten him but you knew Daryl could take a bit of roughing up, and figured no real harm would have been done to him. But now you weren’t sure at all.

You’d become a nervous wreck by the time two sharp knocks were heard on the other side of your door. You hurried over and opened it, to find Negan standing on the other side. Eyebrows raised at you.

“I take it you’ve had some time to mull things over, anything you’d like to fucking to say to me?” He said.

“I’m sorry for interrupting your meeting Negan” you mumbled, eyes on the floor.

He smirked slightly, before saying “yeah, you better be. I’m real fucking disappointed in you, doll. We have something special, I’ll admit, but that doesn’t mean you forget who I am. I’m the boss, you respect and obey me, no questions asked.” You stared at him, frozen, while he went on. “The fact you think you can demand answers of me at all is a problem, but the fact you felt it acceptable to do it in front of my Saviours tells me you need a serious lesson to remind you of your place.”

You gulped, and started to try and plea your case. “I’m sorry Negan, I really am. I know my place here, I was blinded by concern for Daryl; he’s my family!”. You can tell it’s falling on deaf ears as his expression remains unchanged; his mind set. You wondered with terror what you’d been trying to keep out of your mind for the last hour; would he use the iron on you? Surely not on your face, he wouldn’t want to ruin his own viewing pleasure, but what’s to stop him maiming something like your arm?

Tears started to fall down your face, and he finally moved towards you further. “Oh baby doll” you gained an ounce of hope that he’s softening, “don’t start crying already, we haven’t even gotten started”.

The hope vanishes and your insides clenched in fear. “Are you going to hurt me?” You whispered.

“Not badly,” he said, “not in any way I know you can’t take baby girl”.

His tone edged into a territory you were more familiar with, and you raised an eyebrow tentatively. He was teasing you for sure, and now you were less terrified about the possibility of a truly terrible punishment. Well, one that would cause real lasting physical harm anyway. He slowly raised his arm and cupped your face, tilting it up towards his.

“You’re going to do exactly as I say, and show me what a good girl you can be,” he said steadily, and you gave him a small nod. “You gotta earn back my trust, and it isn’t going to be fucking easy.”

His hand slid down your décolletage, around your shoulder and landed on your waist. You couldn’t help but lean into it the tiniest bit, and noticed a small bubble of anticipation forming in your stomach.

That was followed by a twinge of guilt and sadness as you once again remembered Daryl. But you knew you had to face reality, the only way for you to have any hope of helping Daryl is to win back favour with Negan. You had to perform for him now, exactly how he wants. And if there was a small part of you that might enjoy some parts of what’s about to happen, well, that seemed like a small bonus you earned to slightly counter balance from the trauma of your life for the last however many years.

Negan gave your waist a squeeze and stepped back, drinking in your appearance. You were still dressed for this morning’s Alexandria visit; tight black jeans, a grey tank top and black laced up boots. You never left the compound in any shoes other than heavy boots that could kick in a walker skull if needed.

“Strip down to your underwear” he commanded softly, and you tried to make hasty work of your shoelaces, and not look too awkward hoisting them off. Next your hands shot to your pants button.

“No need to rush this part so much” he directed, and you immediately slowed down your efforts as you pulled your jeans down your legs, trying to bend over in attractive an angle as possible.

You made eye contact with him as you lifted your top over your head, and he licked his bottom lip slightly as his eyes glint. You then stand still, feeling a little awkward with him fully clothed and you in your worn out bra and cotton panties, staring at you like a lion sizing up its prey.

You know he likes to be the one to remove your next items of apparel, and sure enough he moved towards you and reached around to the back of your waist. He flicked open your bra with one hand and lets it drop to the floor.

Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out a small silver knife with a smirk. Your heart pounded against your now exposed chest. He ran the cool metal blade along your side and you shivered at its touch on your hot skin.

He moved swiftly and the sound of fabric cutting cleanly was heard before your panties drop to the floor.

“Mmmmmmm” he groaned in appreciation at your now fully naked form. “Well go on, do a little twirl for me” he instructed. You spun around, feeling like a doll in a music box on display. As you returned to face him, he raised his eyebrows indicating you to continue, and as you rotated back around again he stopped you with a hand on your shoulder, back now to him.

You should have known he’d want to check out your ass, he loved worshipping it. But this wasn’t about being worshipped. He gently pushed you in the back so you began to move over to the bed with small footsteps, stopping just in front of it.

“Bend over, hands on the mattress” he instructed, and you leaned forward precariously while he added “feet further apart doll”.

You felt a burn of humiliation at the vulnerable position you were in, legs and cheeks spread open, presented in front of him. You flinched slightly at the touch of his fingers on your bum cheeks. He caressed them lightly, before delivering a sharp slap to your right cheek.

“Alright, let’s get this part over with” Negan said with a slight sigh, and you heard movement behind you, the sounds of what you were sure was him unbuckling his belt. You knew better than to look around and confirm your theory, so instead looked down at your hands and tried to steady your increasingly rapid breathing.

Further confirmation was given to you at the sound of leather on skin, as he warmed up a practise tap in his palm. Then came a burning flash of pain across your backside, and you couldn’t help but yelp.

“We’ll do ten, count me down doll” he murmured to you, and you whimpered in protest before you could stop yourself.

He tutted sympathetically, “I know baby girl, but you can take it. It’ll push your limits, but I have to teach you a real lesson here.” You nod reluctantly. “I told you to count, didn’t I?” He added in a more menacing tone.

Immediately you stuttered out the word “ten!”

You counted down each painful lash, picturing the sight of your ass covered in red marks, hoping that none of them had broken skin. Shamefully, you noticed each strike delivered an underlying trace of pleasure mingled with the pain. You were sure Negan knew it too.

As you rounded out on “T-two!” With a tear rolling down your face onto the sheets below, Negan paused. You dare a glance behind you and noticed he’s bent down, examining his work. You felt his breath fan over your most private spot, and realised he wasn’t looking at your bruised up ass; he’s staring at your pussy.

You felt the smooth leather of his belt suddenly invade your slit, and retreat just as suddenly. Then it appeared in front of your face as Negan narrated “fucking glistening, you filthy girl” with a chuckle.

Negan then delivered the final blow, directly to your pussy this time, landing square on your clit, and you let out a scream. You weren’t even sure whether it was more a scream of pleasure or pain at this point.

Negan cleared his throat pointedly and you realised you missed the final count. “One” you sighed out, before your trembling arms finally gave way and you slumped your upper body onto the mattress. Your legs started to follow and you bent your knees towards the ground, but Negan’s arm scooped under your waist and held your hips up, letting out a “not so fast doll” as he did.

You were now face down on the bed, with your feet still on the ground spread apart, and your backside more on display in the air than ever. When he was sure your legs are steady again, Negan released your hips and you felt more than heard him sink to his knees behind you.

“You took your punishment well baby girl,” he murmured, “now I’ll help make you feel better” he finished before plunging his face in between your legs.

He motorboated your cheeks before taking his hands and spreading them apart, and you felt his wet tongue land where you needed it the most. You moaned and leant back into him as he lapped at your pussy, eating you like a depraved man. His tongue flicked downwards at your clit, which stung just slightly after the belt slap he’d administered just minutes ago. He suckled at your sensitive nub and you let out a loud moan. You could already feel pleasure building towards climax after the state he’d riled you up into. His tongue lazily dragged back up away from your clit, and didn’t stop until it traveled all the way up past your pussy. He quickly replaced it with his finger sliding in past your slit and you immediately pushed back agreeably against the welcome entrance inside you.

You let out a gasp of surprise as his tongue found its new destination, one that he’d never been before - nor had anyone for that matter. He delicately licked your puckered asshole and you marveled at the new sensation, while two fingers now formed a steady rhythm pumping in and out of your pussy. You’d never felt anything like it, and as his tongue got braver, starting to push itself inside your tight hole, you fell into a continuous flow of moans and pleas while softly rocking into his rhythm.

You thought you were already in an unbeatable state of pleasure when his thumb began to rub circles around your clit, and you grasped helplessly at the sheets beneath you. While you knew your orgasm was still building and approaching, you felt so good it was like you were already coming. Yet you felt the feeling continue to build, and you knew that no matter what you didn’t want it to stop.

“Fuck! Yes, Negan, oh please” you sang out.

His tongue danced around and inside your asshole while his fingers mercilessly fucked you, and his thumb circled your clit faster and faster. Your gut clenched and you cried out, reaching a peak like no other you’d ever experienced. Suddenly, too late to react, you felt a secondary feeling like you were about to pee. And then it all happened, you screamed in overwhelming pleasure while fluid broke out of your body and gushed down Negan’s hand. You swore you actually saw stars for a moment and not once did Negan’s actions pause.

You heard him let out an animalistic growl from behind you as you soaked his fingers and he finally withdrew his face from your ass cheeks. As your high came down he continued to pound into your pussy and your legs started to buckle, your energy fast fading.

“Negan, I can’t, no more” you let out softly, desperation in your voice.

He chuckled, delivering two final harsh thrusts of his fingers before pulling them out.

You bathed in the warm, hazy feeling that tingled throughout your body post orgasm, letting yourself lean into the drunk sensation it gave you for a moment.

“Turn around doll,” he instructed. Shakily you pushed yourself up on your elbows and turned so you were sat up watching him, while he stood up straight before you. He looked you in the eyes and licked every one of his fingers clean, slurping up your juice that had coated his entire hand and soaked his sleeve.

Any embarrassment you were at risk of feeling from having squirted for the first time in your life vanished when you realised how much he evidently loved it. He stopped before he got to his pinky and now brought his hand to your mouth. He pressed his finger to your lips and you opened up to let him in, sucking your own juices off him and noting the tangy taste on your tongue.

“Fuck, you did so good baby girl” he praised, stroking your hair with his other hand.

You were too exhausted to reply at this point, and he seemed to pick up on that. Finally feeling satisfied with his punishment, he smiled at you sympathetically. “Time for you to get some rest I think” he murmured, guiding you into the bed as your eyelids felt heavy already.

You slowly laid your head down onto the pillow as he guided you encouragingly, and let your eyes flutter closed. In that moment, you couldn’t remember anything at all that had happened that day. But it would all come back to you in the morning.

#Negan smith #the walking dead #Negan smith smut #Negan smut #Negan x reader #negan x reader smut #Negan filth #the walking dead smut #daryl dixon #twd daryl #twd negan #the walking dead negan #negan fanfiction #negan x you

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fantasylandloser · 8 months

Text

Talk

Pairing: Rickyl x reader

Warnings: 18+, this is not proofread, dom!daryl, dom!rick, sub!reader, spanking, bruises, mentions of apocalypse, lots of crying, lmk if there's more,

a/n: this was not supposed to turn out like this but in the middle of my horniness, i did the worst thing I could do and got SAD

********

It had been seven days since the stupid argument where you accused Daryl of always taking Rick’s side. Seven days of you giving them the silent treatment. Seven days of them trying to give you the chance to make it right.

You’ve done this before, gotten upset and just decided you were done speaking to them until your feelings weren’t hurt anymore. You’d put yourself in a world of trouble every time. It wasn’t always their fault, you’d always been sensitive and the apocalypse didn’t change that, it just made you deal with it differently. Unhealthily, in Rick’s opinion. That’s why there were rules.

So when you’d walked into your bedroom you should have expected to see Rick and Daryl there, but you’d forgotten that your week was up and you just opened the floodgates by not checking in with either of them.

The sight of them makes you flinch a little and you briefly consider walking back out, but Rick must see it in your eyes. “You walk out that door, you’re only gonna make it worse for yourself.” He warns from his position on the edge of your bed. “And honey, it’s already pretty bad.”

Daryl’s sitting in the chair in your corner, he’s quiet and even though he’s usually easy to calm down. You can see it in his face that he’s just not in the mood.

You huff considering your options, deal with it now, or make it ten times worse? Deal with it now, or make it ten times worse? Deal with it now, or make it ten times worse? You decide to make it easier on yourself, unbuttoning your jeans and shoving them off your legs you make your way to Rick’s lap, practically throwing yourself over his knee, not quite ready to give up your attitude.

Usually, if you have a choice, you pick Daryl. He may have rougher hands but he’s gentler and at the first sign of you crying decides you’ve had enough and kisses it better. Rick is an entirely different story. He can be brutal if you’ve driven him in the direction and this is one of his biggest pet peeves from you so you’re sure you have.

He’s surprised by your action, but so very gently drags a hand down your back and you know it’s to lure you into a false sense of security so that the first hit is a shock. “You don’t wanna talk about it first?” Which is what they usually try to get you to do when you get like this.

‘Nope.” Rick sends Daryl a look. One that means ‘deal with her’, because as much as you loved to be a brat to Rick, the moment Daryl said something with even a hint of authority in his voice you stepped in line. You could dip your toe in the brat pool, but you aren’t really much of one. You’re sensible and fucking sweet, which is why you get so upset. They know that, you don’t.

“It don’t work like that.” Daryl finally speaks. You scoff a little, which is bold considering your position but you can’t help yourself.

“Here we go again.” You mutter, jabbing at him when you know better. Rick raises his eyebrow and they seem to come to an agreement in silence.

“Give’er what she wants, then.” Daryl tells Rick, which seems to be all the encouragement he needs because not even a second later his hand comes down on your ass swiftly. It surprises you and it really fucking stings, especially when he keeps going on that same spot and you know it’s to make his hand print as visible as possible.

You’re biting your lip hard, trying to keep your cries inside of you. You grip your bedspread, trying and failing to brace yourself for the next one. When Rick finally moves to the next spot, you think it'll bring you a little relief but it doesn’t because it 's the top of your thighs and you know he really wants to make it last.

On a particularly hard one Daryl gets up, so that he can get closer. He’s squatting in front of you when he pulls your lip from behind your teeth. “Let go.” He tells you, and you do on instinct. There's blood on his thumb when he pulls his hand back and you realize you broke the skin on your lips.

It takes a while for the tears to come but when they do, you manage for the most part to keep them from becoming sobs. Rick stops for a beat, rubbing over the already raised skin. His hand hot from the constant impact. You’re trying to catch your breath, while he stops because you know Rick and you know he can go for longer.

Daryl grips your tearfilled face, his blue eyes hard, but still filled with that underlying layer of concern. “You done, or does Rick need to keep going?” He offers you the out, but he still sees that look in your eye. The look that tells him something in your brain is still telling you to distance yourself from them.

“M’done” You mumble, haphazardly wiping your tears with the sleeves of your shirt, which Daryl realizes is Rick’s. Cute.

“You ready to talk now?” When you nod he lets it slide because you’re still crying and he knows you’re trying to calm your tears before anything. You get embarrassed to cry now that the world is overrun. You feel like your tears should be saved for when you really need them and it’s part of the reason you’re having such a hard time expressing yourself.

The constant stream of tears doesn’t stop when you pull yourself up to sit beside Rick, tucking your legs under you to ease the pressure on your ass. You know Rick is still pissed slightly because he pulls you into his lap when he sees the action. The denim of his pants causes extra discomfort for your skin.

“No more ‘week of space bullshit’.” Daryl tells you still squatting on the floor so he can see you better. “Now on’ if you got a problem, you come straight to us.” You nod again, and it’s the last one he’ll let you do.

“If you want to continue our conversation from last week, now's the time to do so.” Rick says, you can feel his heartbeat slowing down to its regular levels and the angry grip he had on your thigh turning into soothing circles.

It takes you a second to say something and you have to wipe your tears once again because they still haven’t stopped. “I just feel like-” Your voice catches and you cringe at the whiny sound of your voice, but you can’t clear that lump from your throat.

You start over, your voice calmer, even though the evidence of you crying is still there. “I feel like my voice goes unheard sometimes…. and it makes me just not want to talk at all.” Another wipe of your tears and a sniffle. You’re not even making eye contact with Daryl anymore, scared you’re ruining everything by speaking about it.

“I know it’s a game we play or whatever and,” Your tone goes up a pitch like you’re about to start sobbing and Daryl’s heart stops beating in his chest momentarily. “I like that game a lot, but we can’t play it everyday. It gets-” You cut yourself off when you words start to shake more than what will allow you to be coherent. When you see the way Daryl is looking at you, your heart drops.

“M’sorry, I should have said something.” Then it finally happens, the bucket tips over and you’re sobbing afraid you disappointed them. Rick is in your ear softly telling you it’s okay, rocking you.

“Ain’t no reason to be sorry.” Daryl tells you, but inside he’s trying to play back encounters, looking to see how this got past him.

Rick thinks this is good. That you were long overdue to cry like this. He knew what you needed to get you vulnerable enough to do it, to say what you needed and now you’re finally there and they can build on it.

The two of them spend the rest of the night doting on you, rubbing lotion on your bruised ass. Kissing your temple, telling you that you’re so good, so special, so important. When you finally fall asleep, they both just watch you, both of them wrestling with how they can be better for you. To you.

#rickyl #rick grimes x reader #daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fanfic #twd daryl #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #daryl imagines #daryl twd #daryl fanfiction #rick grimes #rick grimes smut #twd rick #twd x reader #rickyl x reader #fantasylandloserfic

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chronically-ghosted · 10 months

Text

i crawl home to her

rating: 18+ explicit

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

word count: 8.2K

summary: you bring dieter home to meet your family over the holidays.

warnings/tags: discussions of food, mentions of weight gain, brief biphobia, bad family dynamics, hiding parts of yourself to make yourself more palatable, dom!Dieter when his type-A girlfriend needs him to, smut in places it shouldn’t be, a family can be two people, bad jokes, mentions of marriage and kids, one light booty smack, peep the super obvious bob's burgers reference, minimal edited, you can pry the image of dieter in ugg's from my cold dead hands

a/n: i've caved and finally added to the evergrowing pile of "Pedro boy fucks you in your childhood home". @sp00kymulderr i told you i'd get it out today -- it might be tomorrow for you, but it's not yet midnight! i present to you part 2 of merry thanksgiving nonsense2023!

🤍Masterlist

You nearly miss the exit off the gray-slushy highway because you’re trying to remember Aunt Gayle’s food allergies.

And Uncle Rick’s preferred way of taking his coffee in the morning.

And the right detergent to use when washing your niece’s clothes, or else your sister will come after you with a hatchet.

“Baby, you’re gnawing your fingernails bloody.”

You blink, surprised to find your hand anywhere near your mouth, the other white-knuckling the steering wheel, and to your enormous embarrassment, he was right – you’d pulled up several hangnails, leaving tiny pink gouges, right under your immaculate holiday nails you got for the express purpose of looking presentable in all the inevitable Insta photos your sister demands every year.

“Fuck,” you mutter and curl your fingers into your fist as if to hide temptation. From the passenger’s seat, Dieter frowns.

“Twizzler to make it better?” He spins the red, bendy candy enticingly. Your mind suddenly flashes back to the time you both got way too high on his new bong and he made the exact same motions with his dick. You had never laughed so hard in your life.

The red candy whipping around in a circle, you groan into the steering wheel.

“I’m turning around. This was a terrible idea.”

“What are you so nervous about?” Dieter half-way laughs. He pulls his Ugg-stuffed feet off the dashboard and sits up. Crumbs from the Starbucks Christmas sugar cookie spill off his “Kris Kingle My Jingle” sweater and onto the seat, but it’s those fucking earnest, curious eyes that always seem to rock your world. You occasionally don’t like to be touched when you’re stressed, so out of the corner of your eye, you see his hand waver before falling back in his lap. “It’s just dinner.”

“Yeah, but it’s holiday dinner with my family. They’re all so judgy and mean and every time I come home for more than twenty-four hours, I’m reminded exactly why I fucked off to California.”

“Maybe they’re jealous you’re a hot shot director,” Dieter suggests. “Or that you have a ruggedly handsome movie star boyfriend.” Eyebrow raised, he twirls the Twizzler again and manages to bite it out of the air. You half-way expected it to smack him in the face. “They know I’m coming, right?”

You bite your lip, the last phone call with your mother still achingly heavy in your chest.

“You know what she asked when I told her I was bringing home the one and only Dieter Bravo as my boyfriend to meet my family?” You don’t need to look at him to see the furrow in his brow, the slight curve in his shoulders. You prop your elbow up against the window, rubbing your forehead with your fingers. “She asked if it was a career move. If I was dating you to get ahead in the industry . . . like I’m trying to sleep my way to the top.”

There’s a fraught silence. You listen to the wheels churn dirty black snow so you don’t have to look at him.

“Then why in the world would you start with my dumb ass?”

Despite yourself and despite what’s coming, you smile. But you fight it, wrapping your lip up between your teeth. So he continues:

“If you really want to make it big, you gotta date someone at least forty years older than you. So, what? We’re talking seventy. But, wow, think of the money. Bet he has his dick dripped in gold just to keep it hard–,”

“Dieter!” You swat at him, smile too big to contain, and he grins, grabbing you by the wrist. “That’s terrible!”

“But I made you laugh, didn’t I?”

You smirk. “Barely. More like ha ha than a big chuckle.”

He nips your palm, the rough hair on his chin scraping the soft skin.

By some minor miracle and a forcible act of God, your mother is allowing you two to share a bedroom. Not out of respect for your relationship, of course, but there is simply not enough room to spare. You watch those perfect lips imprint themselves in the cup of your hand and you’ve never been more thrilled to have to share a double bed. God, you cannot be this wet before you have to look your mother in the eye. You retract your hand with a breathy exhale.

“We don’t have to stay long,” Dieter says, a weight to his gaze that proves he hasn’t completely blown off your concern. He twists his body in the seat and crosses his arms, his shoulder pressed into the seat. He watches you with his head against the headrest. “I hate seeing you like this.”

“I’m already on thin ice because we’re just staying two days.” You shake your head. “My sister and her family have already been there since Monday and plan to stay the rest of the week.” You inhale, hold, and exhale until you can feel your shoulders drop. “It’s just . . . I’ve worked so hard to make something of my life, to be someone I can be proud of, and it just doesn’t matter to them. They want me to marry a banker or something, and quit my job to do cutesy family blogging on Instagram. They’ve never, ever liked the real me.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see something come over Dieter’s face. Not annoyance, or irritation, but as if someone kick started his brain. But it passes and he brushes the back of your hand resting over the gearshift with his fingers.

“I like the real you,” he says quietly. “In fact, I really, really, really like the real you. I gotta keep you around. Who else is gonna remember the name of the best Chinese food place when I’m high?”

Dieter is sweet, knows the wonders his smile can accomplish, with a twinkle in his eyes. A bit crude, a little distractible, but ultimately, well-meaning. However, he seemed physically incapable of maintaining sincerity. Which in the beginning, was also cute, but now, in a moment of crisis, it was boyish in a way that made you worried. A little scared. Like too much pressure and he’d break.

Is Dieter Bravo someone you could rely on?

History says no.

So, maybe you’d just carry everything.

You smile at him and return your hand to the steering wheel.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

The car squeals as it stops in the driveway, wheels crunching the cold ice. You look up at your childhood home with the same unease and trepidation that’s been there since childhood.

“Go let ‘em know we’re here,” Dieter says as he unbuckles his belt. There’s still crumbs in the knit of his sweater. At least his sweatpants are clean. But there’s nothing you can do about those Uggs right now–

His hand squeezes yours, centering the universe that’s spinning like the inside of a martini shaker. You can feel the weight of his gaze press into your chest – heavy, warm, forgiving. He smiles, then slides into a smirk.

“Chillax, bro. Your vibes are not gnarly.”

You huff, trying to offer a smile that’s not a grimace. This was such a bad idea. Maybe it’s not too late to go pay for one of those mail-order boyfriends and keep Dieter in his nice California, hippie plastic wrap.

You hear your name being called from the porch and that smile fully plummets into a grimace. Gathering from that reserve of confidence that makes you look at male writers, directors, and (yes) actors and tell them they’re idiots and get the fuck off your set, you open the door and head around the corner to the front of the house.

Yeah, in the face of your mother, that reserve is basically a trickle.

She’s waiting for you on the porch, red dish towel in hand.

“I thought that might be you, darling! I’d recognize that squeak from that rust bucket anywhere.” She smiles, arms wide, as you bend down to give her a hug. You've had to bend down to hug your mother for years now and you still feel about two feet tall. “How are you? You’ve been good? You look pale, but you’ve definitely been eating, haven’t you?”

She pinches your cheek as if to show you all the extra fat you have on your face.

“Where’s Dad?” You try not to look like you’re tearing your face out of her grip and glance into the surprisingly quiet house over her shoulder. “Aren’t Emma and Dan supposed to be here?”

“Your father is out finishing his latest woodworking piece. He’s been at it for days, no matter how much I beg him to help with the food or the house. It’s all on me again to save the holidays.”

As it is every year.

“Your sister and her family went out to get more sweet potatoes. They eat sweet potatoes in California, don’t they?”

Here it comes.

“Yes, Mom, they eat sweet potatoes.”

“Oh good, I thought it’d be considered a carb.” She frowns, hands on her hips as if you’re about to get a proper scolding. “Now you told me you’re going to be bringing your fancy actor boyfriend. Damian Bravado, right? I cooked for exactly seven people, darling, a single empty chair will throw the whole thing off!”

“Yes, Mom, my boyfriend, Dieter Bravo, is here. He’s just in the–,”

Someone, distinctly not your boyfriend, or at least not the boyfriend you left in the car, waltzes up the front steps.

Rings gone.

Earring gone.

Gloves that would make Ryan Gosling seethe with envy covering the tattoo on his hand.

His hair slicked back and curling deliciously around his ears, his dark jeans cover the laces of maroon Timberland boots. His black turtleneck clings to his wide chest, the leather jacket broken in enough to be soft, but not so used there’s tears in the seams. And, to top it all off, his cream-colored scarf curled around his throat looks like it came out of a Hallmark movie.

Maybe you are in a Hallmark movie. Maybe on the way up the porch, you slipped and banged your head and all of this is a bizarre, weirdly-erotic dream. Maybe someone actually did call in a mail-order boyfriend who looks exactly like Dieter and the real one is hog-tied in the trunk of your car. Maybe –

You’d heard of quick costume changes, but this is ridiculous.

“Debbie!” He calls out, like they’ve been best friends for twenty years. He flourishes a wrapped bouquet of flowers, bright red against the white snow, and hands them to her after bouncing up the steps. His cheeks are tinged pink, as if he’d run the block, but without a drip of sweat on him, he’s simply glowing with what could be presumed as the holiday spirit.

To your never-ending and horrific surprise, your mother squeals as she takes the flowers.

“Poinsettias! My –,”

“Favorite, I know.” You stumble out of the way when he leans down and kisses her on her cheek. “And they’re fake, so you can reuse them next year. But you’d never know it at $300 a pop.”

Okay, yes, this is a clone of your boyfriend, a walking holiday Ken doll – Dieter never, ever brags about money.

“I’m not a banker or anything, but I like to spoil my girls.”

The bastard winks at you.

Your mother has turned to gooey, drippy putty in his hands. She’s redder than the hand towel and the poinsettias combined. She flounces, flutters, eyes springing back and forth between the ruby-red flowers in her hands and Dieter’s achingly handsome face – one that hasn’t dimmed that thousand gigawatt smile since he first arrived.

“Oh, oh my goodness – well, this is just lovely – it’s so nice to finally meet you – I can’t believe she’s been hiding you from us all this time – please, please come in, you must be freezing!”

She backs into the house, still staring at the flowers, then as if she hadn’t been living here for the past fifteen years of her life, she bounces towards the dining room, then on a quick turn, heads for the kitchen, then turns again to the hallway closet.

“Oh gracious – where did I put – it must be – come in and shut the door behind you – you know where your room is, darling, I’ll be back in just a second, I just have to – ah, these are spectacular –”

A door down the hallway finally swings shut and muffles your mother’s insane rambling.

So dazed, you don’t see him move until he’s pressed you up against the glass etching of the door, his hand palming your hip and the other diving to cup the back of your neck. He tugs you down into his mouth before you have time to blink.

Jesus Christ, mint? His breath smells like mint??

God, he even fucking kisses like a Hallmark Prince. His mouth pulls you into him and your brain whites out – careless of the little whimper you make, careless of the fact that literally any one of your family members could walk in right now, careless that you’re teetering into him as if on string. Your breath flutters down his throat and he huffs through his nose. The tips of his fingers are chilly enough that you shiver at his touch.

He edges the bottom of your lip with his tongue before pulling back and tightening his grip in your hair.

And there’s that Dieter smirk you are all too intimately familiar with.

“How’m I doing?” He mutters. His gaze flickers between your eyes, your nose, and your kissed-pink lips. “I’d say I got Mama Bear on my side.”

Maybe it’s a good thing he isn’t always like this. Between the fresh breath scent in his mouth, the fragrance of his much-too expensive cologne permeating your senses, and his thick thigh shoved under your groin, you are embarrassingly boneless in his arms. You pluck your fingers over the soft leather collar at the back of his neck, just as much to inspect the jacket, as much as to release more of that delicious smell.

“Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?” You mutter, smirking, as you wind your fingers into his curls. “Spoil my girls, what the fuck was that?”

“Ah, ha, ha, ha,” he gloats as he lowers his head to your neck. You expect a warm kiss in the length of skin you’ve exposed to him, but instead his teeth lightly tease your throat above your pulse point and you feel your knees buckle as your face warms. “I can be very charming when I want to be.” He squeezes your ass as if to make a point.

You hold back a moan, flattening it to a shudder in your chest. You can feel his grin in your neck and he shifts you, pulls you closer and compresses you deeper into the wooden door. You can feel your conscious thought melting through your fingers so you blink, lick your lips, try to wiggle out from under his teeth.

“This isn’t a Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner. This is Invasion of the Body Snatchers.” You gasp his name into the foyer of your childhood home when he licks you from the curve of your shoulder up under the soft place below your ear. Your hips jerk unconsciously, baser instincts seeking out the friction of his jeans, and you push against his biceps. “Dieter, she’ll be back any minute. She can’t – can’t see us like this.”

You’ve never heard him chuckle like the way he does, so darkly pleased with himself.

“Once I’m done schmoozing her, your father, your sister and her – what did you call him – cardboard husband, we’ll fuck in front of them and they won’t say a word.”

“Dieter!” You shove him just as your mother returns from the kitchen.

She frowns and you feel the scolding coming, the scent of Dieter so obviously entangled in you. You might as well be wearing a sign that reads, hi, yes, I’ve been recently groped why do you ask?

“Did you forget where your room is? Honestly, what would you do without me? Now, follow me and I’ll remind you.”

Schmooze he did.

From the same magical bag of weirdly specific and perfect gifts, Dieter presents a bottle of Buffalo Trace bourbon and two very illegal, but very Cuban cigars. Your father forgets to scowl in the face of some of the most expensive bourbon in the world.

For your sister, he somehow senses that material objects won’t go as far, so he endears himself to your niece first. Asking her questions about her doll, about her school, what she likes to play with her friends and how crazy it is that hopscotch is his favorite game too.

In twenty minutes, he’s on his hands and knees, black sleeves pulled up over his immaculate forearms, and etching out a hopscotch board with pink chalk. He nods and interjects while your niece runs around him, demanding a dragon in the corner, or a crown in another, and suddenly your biological clock starts blaring like an air-raid siren.

“He’s so good with kids,” your sister mutters to you from the door to the garage. A single glance tells you she’s under the same effect of watching a hot man play with a child. You’re so aroused and confused you can’t even eye her with jealousy.

“Mhmm hmm.”

“When are you going to have some of your own?”

And you’re back inside before you can see the look on his face as he lifts his head.

It would be insulting to call it eerie.

It’s not like he’s physically incapable of smelling clean, or dressing nice, or even combing his hair. You’ve seen him do it time and time again for galas and interviews. Hell, that time he took you on a date to get sushi in the tallest building in Toronto, he didn’t look that much different from how he does right now . . . and yet . . .

You feel your face scrunch in suspicion when he remembers your aunt’s food allergies, how your Uncle Rick likes his after-dinner coffee.

Dieter might forget to put on pants, but he’s never forgotten the important dates of your relationship. He remembers what you were wearing the first night you kissed, but can’t remember to take out the pizza before it burns in the oven.

This, this Dieter, feels wrong.

You watch him laugh with your father and uncle by the fireplace with brandy in his hands as you work with your mother and sister to unwrap a dozen saran-wrapped pies. He comes by later and takes the stack of plates from your mother’s hands and assures her he’ll do the dishes, as thanks for such a wonderful meal.

This Dieter Bravo needs a smoking jacket and uses words like “wonderful meal”.

Initial surprise at his near magical transformation from the car this morning long gone, you sit with this uncomfortable feeling, as everyone around you eats pie and laughs and looks all the part of a fucking Hallmark card for “joyful festivities”, long enough to finally understand it for what it is:

Anger.

Shame. Guilt.

Hot embarrassment.

You look at the man who’s invaded your boyfriend’s body as he charms the pants off your mother and father, and ugly, heavy embarrassment boils over in your chest. Washing the knife in your throat down with your fourth glass of wine all night, you excuse yourself with the last bit of breath in your lungs before ducking upstairs, then stumbling to your childhood bathroom you once shared, and share again, with your sister.

You lock the door forcefully in lieu of slamming it shut and sit down on the tile, your head against your knees. Rationally, there’s a part of you that knows this shouldn’t affect you like it is. Women would kill for a boyfriend like this – your sister very nearly jumped him in the garage.

But that’s just the thing – this isn’t your boyfriend. This isn’t the man you spend your days and nights with and this isn’t the man you fell in love with. This isn’t the Dieter you want to show the world.

A soft knock comes from the other side of the door and it breaks you out of your self-deprecating spiral.

“Just a second,” you call out as you stand. You flush the empty toilet (this night is filled with ruses after all) and twitch the faucet on for two seconds. But when you open the door, you’re immediately cowed back in.

“Dieter, what are you–,”

“Are you okay?” Beneath the veneer of the Million Dollar Man, his eyes are soft, coaxing the anxiety out of you. “You looked pale when you left.” He tucks an escaped strand of hair over your ear, watching how his fingers brush up against your skin. He gently tangles his fingers in your hair as he pulls back. He smirks. “Mom’s dressing wasn’t that bad.”

White-hot shame blooms again and you turn your head from him, tugging your hair out of his reach. You catch his hurt expression out of the corner of your eye.

“I’m fine. Just needed some air.”

“You’re not a good liar. I’ve told you that.” His voice is clipped. Not irritated, but not interested in lengthy bouts of misdirection either.

“Well, I don’t feel like bearing my problems to Mr. Perfect.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He crosses his arms, shoulders swelling in the space of the tiny bathroom, and he leans on the sink.

“It means you’re a better liar than me so I guess you’ll have to do it for the both of us.”

You know it’s ridiculous to try and move around him – but maybe this Dieter wouldn’t care if you left angry. Even sober, he could manhandle you without a second thought, but between the heat of the drink in your throat and he’s blurred at the edges, you know you’re fighting a losing battle.

“Dieter, please, just –,”

He stands his ground, effectively blocking the door, and you huff, pushing up against his waist with your hands, your teeth bared behind your lips. He steps back, you think you’ve won a mile, but then his hands grasp so firmly around your elbows, your entire consciousness is pulled into where his fingers curl against your skin.

He gently, but seriously, shakes you slightly.

“Stop fighting me. You tell me what I did wrong and we’ll talk about this.”

The past two weeks of dread, and fear, and worry, and shame – shame that this is your family, this is how you go to pieces around them, this is all you can offer him – slam into your chest and your breathing hitches. The fingers at his chest dig into his shirt. The fourth glass of wine makes your eyes hot and tight.

“This isn’t you.”

You grimace in the bright light of the bathroom and your confession. But beyond your closed eyes, his demeanor hasn’t changed.

“What’s not me?”

A tear slips out the moment you open your mouth, your throat closing and gagging on your words. You swallow and try again, eyes peeling open to stare at the curve of his shoulder.

“You’re Dieter Bravo. You dry-clean your favorite pajamas to preserve the material. You do astrology charts of people who piss you off to find out how to best get back at them. You paint until four in the morning and sleep in our bed until I wake you up–,”

Your heart thrusts its way into your airways and cuts off your ability to speak. You know you’re not making a lot of sense, but all you can think of right now is how much you want to peel this fucking black, Steve Jobs-esque, goddamn ugly-ass turtleneck apart with your bare hands. Like freeing a mermaid from a net. He squeezes your waist, his broad palm settled in the curve of your lower back.

“Darling, I don’t see why this has you so sad –,”

“They won’t fall in love with you like I did.” You lift your watery gaze to him, unable to stop the spilling of tears. You always got teary when you drank a bit too much, but fuck, if you didn’t love him so much, you wouldn’t be so mad . . . at yourself. “I hate that you feel like you have to do this to be accepted by my family. I hate that they can’t see what makes you so special to me. I hate . . . I hate that they don’t see the real you.”

And out of nowhere, he smiles.

Never one to shy away from bodily fluids, Dieter kisses your tear-soaked cheeks, his hands rising up your back, taking their time to press into the curve of your hips, the bones of your ribs, the high arch of your spine, before settling on your cheeks. He kisses your wet mouth, thumbs against the corners of your lips like a soft leather bridle. He holds you, just like that, until your heart eases, stops racing in your chest, and you lean more into the kiss, chasing instead of hiding. You wrap your fingers around his wrists as he pulls away.

“With all due respect, this is just another gig for me.” His gentle smile hides no bitterness, no anger. No disgust. “I know what people like this are like, how they think, what they want. What they value.” He smears away the cold tears from your skin with his thumbs. “It’s fun, in a way, to infiltrate their little circles. It’s all fake, it’s all bullshit, and fortunately I’m fantastic at bullshit.”

You let out a watery laugh and he reaches behind you for some toilet paper to dry your tears. He blots your eyes for you before you can even take the tissue.

“You’re not forcing me to do anything, baby,” he murmurs. “My family was exactly the same way, so I know how the game is played.”

“Yeah, and you don’t talk to them anymore. I just wish I had your bravery to cut them out of my life like you did.”

Dieter’s mouth twitches. “Well, that had more to do with the fact that I like to occasionally make out with boys, than dysfunctional family dynamics.”

You squeeze his forearm as he continues to clean your face, trying to catch his eyes but they’d gone hard where a moment ago they were soft. He thinks, using the silence to carefully fix your make up with his thick thumb under your eyelashes to lift off the smeared mascara.

He didn’t talk much about his life before Hollywood, but when he did, you understood why he was so closed off about it.

“Let’s put it this way: they did the cutting off, not me. And even if we have to be completely different people, your family still talks to you. I’m not saying that to guilt you, or compare trauma scars, but . . . most times we can’t pick who we love, but sometimes we have to.”

You nod, a sense of ease washing over you. His small, I don’t know if I should say this but I’m gonna smile widens across his mouth.

“It’s okay if they don’t see the real me, because I know you do.” He finally pulls away the tissue, his mouth pulled up in sweet earnest. “What can I do to make you feel better?”

A physical string connected between your ribs and his could not have tugged you faster. Tripping into his wide, warm chest, you drop your head onto his collarbone as you wrap your arms around his torso tighter than his own rib cage.

“Just . . .”

His bulky arms pull you into his chest, the bristles of his beard scratching at your temple. It’s not until you sink away from your own thoughts, into the silence in the bathroom, that you realize your breathing is synced with his.

That realization hits you particularly hard, that without trying, without meaning to, you become one with him – you turn and bury your face into the pulse of his neck. If you can get to his heartbeat, maybe that’ll calm you too. Dig through the crust of the earth and end up in China. You shift in his arms, and he does too. Dieter cups the back of your head, thumb rubbing the arch of your skull. His entire arm circles your back.

“What do you need, hm, baby? What can I give you, huh?”

You know he doesn’t mean it like that, but the girth, the weight of his voice has your toes curling in your shoes. His rasp is so often used to light that first spark.

“Dieter –,” the moment shifts and so do you. You squirm, itching for his face in your hands, his mouth over yours, but he holds you steady. Holds you firm. So firm, you can feel he’s half-hard in his jeans.

Oh.

Maybe he did mean it like that.

You press your tongue against his pulse point, your fingers splayed across the back of his rib cage, and he shudders. You’re about to bite down, when his hands peel your fingers from his back and pinch your wrists in one single, meaty grip. Heart suddenly thundering in your chest, he steps back to allow for just enough room to turn you – barely any at all – and pushes you face down on the sink counter, your wrists clasped over your ass behind you.

Cold marble pressing up against your tits, your face turned towards the window and the towel bar where you used to hang your Barbie swimsuits when you were seven, you feel his other massive palm dip under your sweater and press flat against the ridges of your spine. He hums when you let out a small whine. Flexes his fingers when you wiggle your ass against him. You seek out the marble with your cheek, heat rising under your skin, arousal suddenly burning hot in your low belly.

“This is what you need, hm, baby? Need me to touch you? To feel you?” He murmurs. Dieter always did like playing with his food. You nod helplessly, cheek sticky against the marble. He shifts his hips into the crack of your ass, with just enough pressure to have you bucking back against him, but not enough to find relief from the stirring between your legs.

He strokes your hair away from your neck, fingers brushing over your collarbone, gaze languid and slow. Like he can see where he needs to pluck to unravel you.

“Why is my baby so tense?” He muses quietly, patronizing. His hand maps your spine in a single palm, edging slowly up your back until, with two fingers, he pinches your bra open. You feel the snap of the release and you rub your nose against the edge of the counter, whimpering. “Don’t I take care of you?”

You gulp. “Y-y-yes, you treat– treat me so good. I want it.”

He has you pressed too tightly against the counter to slip his hand down your front, the edge pinching your hips. So, instead, with your hands still pinned against your tailbone, he palms your ass and rubs a thick finger down between your legs and up over the seam of your jeans. The whine building in your throat breaks into an open moan when he presses your zipper teeth into your clit.

“Want what? Tell me and I’ll give it to you.”

“F-fingers – tongue – fuck – y-your cock. Anything inside me.”

The surprised, breathless chuckle that reverberates down to the button of his jeans seared against your ass has you bending, stretching, just for a glimpse of his face in the mirror.

His mouth open, tongue curling back and forth over his bottom lip, he’s hungry. Wants so much. Can’t satiate this need without something between his teeth. Grinning around a mouthful of incisors. Patience has never been Dieter’s strong suit.

With a firm jerk around your wrists, your back arches up off the counter, shoulders pinched, hands caught low near his groin. You know he wants you to watch him touch you in the mirror – he’s stopped before when you close your eyes – but it’s hard to look at the woman reflected back at you, with her bleary eyes, mussed hair, heaving chest, and exposed belly button where his hand hovers between the waistband and a green sweater, and recognize yourself.

“No one can take you from me. Do you understand?” He dips his head, arched nose dragging up the curve of your neck, breathing hot through his teeth against the lines where your hair and your skin meet. You can’t help but arch up into his waiting mouth. “Not your family. Not mine. You’re so greedy for me – who else is gonna make you feel this good?”

“N-no one, Dieter, no one can.”

His hand rising under your sweater, thumb first at your belly button, then up between the spread of your ribs, and finally, it catches under the wire of your bra and he tugs it down. The material rubs against your sensitive nipples – it almost stings, your body pulled taught like a bowstring – the straps falling low off your shoulders, but your sweater keeps it from falling off completely and he goes no further. You whine, eager for something other than the scratch of the bra – something warmer – and push your sensitive tits into his soft hands, but his hand drops, fingering the waistline of your jeans instead. He ignores what you want to show you what you need.

This is a thing he did. He watched you wind yourself up with deadlines and scheduling and meetings and arguments on set and and doubt and worry and fear and then he took it upon himself to tire you out enough that all of it shattered – crashed and consumed under the white noise in your head. Dieter liked to play however you needed it.

You can feel the seam of his jeans hover just beyond your fingertips, as though his hips swing unconsciously forward while he nips and sucks on your neck. God, you’d give anything to have the weight of him between your palms.

When he speaks again, you realize at some point you squeezed your eyes shut, forgoing sight to chase the sensation that sparks across your skin every time he touched a new bare patch of skin on you. He pulls his head up from fixating a tender purple blush just below where your sweater covers your shoulder to catch your gaze in the mirror. Panthers do not watch with such hungry eyes.

“Arms up.” It’s not a command, a request, but the words drip from his mouth, rich and sweet. He lets go of your wrists and your arms flutter above you, his fingers already rolling up the edge of your sweater. He drags it up, snagging your loose bra with it, and peeling them both off you. The immediate heat of his chest on your bare back is so hot, it burns cold.

“Dieter,” you cry, nipples hardening in the cold air, goosebumps spiraling out along your skin. He’s there for you in an instant.

He bites the soft, invisible hairs at your jaw, thick paws coming up to clutch your breasts, the sudden swap in temperature making your head swim. He pulls you against his chest, a new outer skin that breathes and moans and gasps, one that has a steady heartbeat your own has synced to.

With his eyes fixated on you in the mirror, he molds your breast to his palm, rounding your nipples with his thumbs before sliding down between the curves of them. He licks the back of your neck.

“Face down, baby,” he says.

“But it’s cold,” you huff, pouting. You smooth your hands over his, his angular wrists, his broad thick forearms entombed in long back sleeves, then settle with your fingers in his hair. His height over you has your torso stretched, your tits bare and ripe, and he palms your stomach to the top of your ribs in two hands. He grunts when you twist his curls, keeping his head still so every bruise and wet spot on your shoulders and throat are all too visible. “Don’t you want to see all your good work?”

He blinks, slow and purposeful, his eyelids heavy, mouth parting. You can’t be sure of his decision, of what he wants, what he’s going to give, when his hands arch up the cradle of your arms, soft enough to tickle below your elbows, then around your wrists. He’s done this enough for you to know he wants you to let go.

You do.

Fast as venom moves from fangs to flesh, he plants your hands on the counter, forcibly gripping the edge. This is how you hold on.

He steps up against you again, iron-hot cock pressing without hesitancy between your ass cheeks, and unbuckles your pants without preamble.

“I’d rather just show you.”

Broad hand bending your shoulders forward, fingers pressed flat over your shoulder, you gasp when your tits make contact with the cold counter, and an instant later, he’s filling your open mouth with his fingers. He wets them against the slip of your tongue and grabs your jaw.

Your mind fracturing like cracking ice, you don’t hear the zip of his jeans, the groan as he takes himself out – barely feel the rub along your wet slit, the arranging of his fingers around your bare hip, the widening of your stance with his ankle.

But you do feel it when he’s suddenly hilt-deep inside of you.

You lurch forward with the weight of it, whining as though scalded at the sudden blinding pressure of pleasure and pain, and you slap a palm against the mirror to keep yourself from shattering through it. Behind you, Dieter looks like someone dislocated his kneecaps.

“You good, baby?” He pants, drawing his hand out of your mouth, wet spit between his fingers as he cups your hanging breast. The sensation bleeds hot, then cold. Unable to help himself, he nuzzles your shoulder blades.

You nod, eyes shut, the magnetic north sense of you spinning wildly off-kilter as you try to gulp in as much air as you can. You know you’re about to lose it anyway. He stands upright, not so much as inching out of you, when he plants his feet and nestles your ass against his hip bones, hands wiggling you further down his cock.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous.”

It’s said with such wonder, a breathless reverence, that you think he might not have realized he said it out loud. You glance over your shoulder, turning your head instead of finding him in the mirror.

The facade of the Brooklyn banker is gone. Your Dieter stares, awe-struck, at the body he’s got impaled on his cock like it’s the first time he’s seen a naked woman. Soft, pliant, eager to please, your Dieter lets you collar him, peg him, and give it to you exactly as you ask.

“How do you want it?” The phrase is so familiar, so intimate when spoken from his pink lips, you shudder, a Pavlovian response that’s got you drooling somewhere else than your mouth. He lifts his gaze and finds you staring.

There is no one else in that moment. Not a single living soul besides you and him in this white-tiled bathroom. You can almost hear the absence of people ringing in your ears. His open, hot mouth draws your eyes away from his and you want every bit of him as stuffed up inside you as you can handle. Twisted around, you lick his bottom lip over your shoulder before offering your tongue for him to suck.

He groans, and you breathe in intimacy you’ve never experienced before. A flushed ache rises from your chest, a precursor to the aches he’ll leave you with by morning.

You tip your head back and thumb the bristly skin against his chin.

“Hard, baby. Please.”

For all his faults, for all his forgetting, Dieter switches brain waves as fast as you do, tethered together like the gravitational spin of space rocks in the wake of a gleaming comet.

“Okay.”

He distracts you from the pain of that first rough thrust by biting down on your shoulder.

His motions are short, targeted, and right up into the cradle of your cervix, the pace driven, unrelenting and hard. You shake with the force of them, as fragile as silverware on a table near the drop of an atom bomb.

“Oh – fuck, Dieter–,”

He pins your arm that had touched his chin to your chest, then his chest to your back, sealing your damp skin to his shirt. The curl of that wretched black turtleneck scratches deliciously against your low back.

Grunting in low, short bursts, Dieter sabotages his own breathing by crushing you so tight to his chest. He sucks on your neck as if to draw the oxygen straight from your blood. The fingers on your hip steady you, just for his cock wrecks your insides.

“You wan-na – ngh – you wanna know why it doesn’t bother me?”

Each word is spat out from between his teeth. He’s giving you your requested punishment as much as he is sprinting after his own release.

“Tell me. Tell me please.” Your voice is scraped raw, breathless and gooey at the same time.

“Because when you’re my wife, they won’t be able to do a fucking thing about it.”

Around him, your cunt squeezes, his words sending shocks through your nerves. You whine as if he’d smacked your ass.

“I fucking felt that. You like that. You want that. You want my fucking cock every day.”

Again, he plants your hands on the cold counter.

“Push back against me, baby.” You anchor yourself, ass out, elbows and knees locked. “That’s it, that’s my fucking good girl.”

He lifts his body up right, off your sweaty neck and back, and with both hands pinching your waist, he yanks you up and down on his cock in long, rough thrusts, knees bending with enough force to send you onto your toes.

“Gonna have to take it. Just – fucking – take – it –,”

His leaking cock drives up against that spot inside of you that makes your eyes roll back and body tense again and again, but yanks back before that hot feeling swells. It’s so close you’re dizzy from it.

You want to fuck yourself on his cock but you can’t time your aching hips right, so you stop trying and bend forward more, exposing more of your cunt to him.

“Dieter, please –,”

“Baby, you gotta be quiet. I know you feel good, but you can’t let them hear us.”

The words are out of your mouth, breaking through the thick, drowning fog and through the hindbrain barrier.

“Fuck them. Let them hear.”

Dieter’s hips slow, punch not as deeply, as if he’s curious what you’re going to say next.

“Take off your shirt. I wanna feel your skin.”

He listens immediately, a very good boy at heart, and the first press of his soft chest against you nearly has you coming then.

“Harder again, please.”

Again, without a second’s hesitation, he kisses your ear before grappling your shoulder with one hand and your hip with the other and he takes up his position as owner and keeper of your sloppy cunt.

You cry out, high and wrecked, some semblance of sanity knowing you’re being far too loud, and he bucks the words out of you.

“I wanna suck on your earring, Dieter.” He grunts as he doubles over as if trying to yank back an unrestrained and early release. He rubs his damp forehead in the patch of soft skin by your shoulder blade.

“Say it again.”

With every rock of his hips, you swing up higher, and higher, your thighs tensing, nails scraping the counter.

“Wanna put it between my lips and suck until you’re cherry red. I wanna choke on your rings. So far down my throat I gag. Wanna – wanna – lick your tattoos – all of them – ‘til the ink blurs from my spit. I –,”

The noise he makes is pained, weak, a man at the end of his rope.

He pops your ass. “Shut up. You’re gonna come now.”

His sweaty palms slip against the soft skin of your hips, and he keeps slipping with no leverage.

“Stand on your toes.” You do and for an absurd second, you think he’s going to pick you up in a bear hug. He wraps his arms around your rib cage, his face nestled into the hot, sticky curve of your neck, in the flipped image of when he takes you after your legs get sore from riding him. Your tits spilling over his forearms, he keeps the ludicrous bend in your spine as well as the short, rough pace. You reach your fingers around the back of his head and hold on for dear life.

The change in angle has stars blowing across your eyes, has you whimpering strings of pleas, veneration, and curses all threaded together. His own thighs shaking, he rubs the pads of three of his fingers across your clit and you’re over the edge.

“Oh – oh, shit –,”

The electrical storm that’s been building one wiry shock at a time finally bursts and you go rigid from head to toe, turning to marble, to steel, bright and sharp. You can feel your own release dribble down your thigh, Dieter stuttering behind you.

“Wait – fuck,”

He tries to speed up, or press harder, but he’s coming so hard you feel it expand your cunt and ends up just making a leaking mess. The sensation shivers you through another minor wave. The crest goes high, then crashes, and you slump forward, cold nips be damned, and he follows you down a second later.

The heated weight at your back and hard, cool marble squishing your tits is too much for your dazed brain to handle. Any looser and you might slip off the edge of the earth.

Dieter seems to be in a similar state. He not so much pulls out of you as he goes weak-kneed to the floor. A single tug on your hip has you stumbling down with him.

Despite the garland around the stairs, despite the smell of cranberries in the air, despite the veneer of perfect holiday wholesomeness, it’s the slick layer of sweat, grime, and cum over your skin that has you finally smiling.

You recognize you have been gone far too long – there’s not enough spiked hot cider in the world to ignore two missing bodies and a locked door. Dieter puts his barefoot preemptively up against the door frame and you giggle into his shoulder.

“Oh, there’s the sound I’ve been missing!” He nuzzles you, a blissful smile breaking open his face, sunlight over storm clouds. He wiggles beneath you, trying to tug you on top of him, but with your jeans constricting your thighs, and his barely below his hips, all it really accomplishes is the two of you rolling around on the bathroom floor.

In a heap of limbs, slick skin, his knee catching the button of your jeans, you bump your nose against his chin, there’s something bright building in your chest – it’s twisting your mouth, pinching your cheeks – his fingers grab your elbow, his eyes lock into yours –

And you’re laughing.

You’re laughing too loud, all pretense gone. You can’t honestly care what they’re thinking downstairs.

He manages to get you under him, his damp hair clinging to his temples and tangling down in frizzy strands.

“I’m gonna say this and I need you to actually hear me.”

You nod, grinning up at him and lightly tracing his clavicle.

He swats at your hand and holds it to your chest.

“Don’t wait until it’s that bad, okay?” You chuckle and he bites the tip of your nose. “Listen to me, you little goblin, I’m trying to be serious for a second.”

You settle under him, fingers intertwining with his over your chest. Sincere Dieter is a beautiful thing to look at.

“This holiday bullshit can be a lot. Spent a lot of them either in coke up to my eyeballs, or in the bathroom the next day. It fucking sucks that these are the people we can from, but we can’t change that. What’s important is the family we build right now–,”

Your mouth drops open, his words suddenly illuminating a future that had always seemed so blurry and distant.

“Dieter, I –,”

“I’m gonna marry you someday, so let’s start with us.” He kisses the back of your hand. “We carry each other, okay?”

You nod, the white light of that future searing a hole in your chest, exposing your heart to the open air, and bringing tears to your eyes. You nod, more assured, before kissing him on his bottom lip.

“Okay.”

The next few minutes play out just like they would if you were at home: cleaning each other up, trying on clothes only to realize he grabbed your sweater instead, and bumping affectionate kisses wherever they could reach.

At the top of the stairs, you don’t know what awaits you in the living room. What exactly you’ll be returning to. Who will catch you and who won’t.

But it doesn’t matter. His hand is around yours and he’s grinning petulantly against all the world.

Is Dieter Bravo someone you could rely on?

Your heart says yes.

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x oc #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfic #the bubble fanfic #the bubble #pedro pascal #merry thanksgiving nonsense 2023

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dixongrimesgirl · 7 months

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Do It Like A Good Girl

Carl Grimes x reader

Content Includes: dry humping, oral (m receiving),dom!slightly mean Carl, pet names(babydoll), praise

You and Carl have been dating since the prison and ever since you found Alexandria, you’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to take your relationship to the next level.

It was always so hard with people constantly hanging around the Grimes’ house but today Rick and a bunch of others were out on a run that would probably take them until tomorrow to return.

You and Carl were layed on his bed when you broke the silence.

“I wanna take our relationship to the next level.”

He stares at you a little bit in shock for a moment.

“Are you sure?” He asks.

“I’m not ready for sex per say but I wanna do other stuff.” You respond.

Soon, Carl’s on top of you and his lips are locked with yours. He brings his lips down to your neck and begins sucking, harshly.

You thrust your hips up to meet his, so your core brushes over his erection. You both moan at the feeling.

“Carl” you gasp as he rocks his hips into yours. The two of you continue thrusting against each other until Carl pulls away.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, worried you had done something wrong.

“Just don’t wanna cum in my pants” he replies and you laugh causing him to aswell before bringing his lips down to yours. He ríds himself of his pants and boxers. You stare at him and wonder how it will ever fit inside you. You notice him blushing so your nervously reach out and take his cock in your hand.

“You’re so big” you say causing him to smirk.

“Oh yeah? I’m sure you could take me in your mouth, right babydoll?” He replies.

You look up at him and see his eyes clouded over with lust. You nod your head.

“I can take it” you say.

“Good girl. Now open up” he says lining his cock up with your mouth. You open and he thrusts into your mouth. The head hitting the back of your throat causing you to tag.

“Awww, you’re okay babydoll. Be a good girl and let me fuck your mouth” he commands.

You nod tears starting to form in your eyes. It doesn’t take long till he’s shooting his load down your throat.

“Good girl. Swallowing every last drop. I’m gonna have to reward you.” He smirks and you lazily grin up at him already so fucked out.

#smut #the walking dead #twd #carl grimes x reader smut #carl grimes x reader

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cooliestghouliest · 8 months

Text

LOVE ME TWO TIMES, ch. one

(chapter one) (chapter two)

PAIRING: eventual Mungrove x Reader

SUMMARY: Struggling to come to terms with the abrupt abandonment of your father, you’re left with two options – attend an “all girls’ therapeutic boarding academy” that’s really more Bedlam Insane Asylum than trusty reformative school, or move half-way across the country to a small town in Indiana to live with your older brother, Rick. The upheaval of your life in Fresno might just end up being a little star-crossed and a whole lot serendipitous.

WORD COUNT: 3.5k+

SERIES TAGS: angst. some pretty heavy topics in later chapters. just enough fluff to hopefully balance it all out. eventual smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI). eventual love triangle. neurodiversity. dom/sub undertones (dom!Billy, switch!Eddie, switch!Reader), also bi!Eddie and bi!Reader but confused!Billy. drugs and drug addiction. no use of Y/N (but much use of nicknames and pet names). Reefer Rick is Matthew Lillard circa Senseless. more TBA as the story progresses.

CHAPTER TAGS: absent dads and mean moms. brief mention of self-destructive tendencies (way more about that later). your brother's a total cockblock. long-winded parental background information. this is really just some stage setting before we get into the nitty gritty.

A/N: this is my favorite fic i've ever written, and now it's coming at you re-edited. it's my verbose word child, sprinkled with a few What The Fuck and Holy Shit moments, dolled up with some silly humor and a dose of hot (and often borderline depraved) smut. a lot's already planned for this, so i hope you enjoy. :-)

—

chapter title: O Brother, Where Art Thou?

You weren’t expecting the high pitch of the doorbell that sounded throughout your colonial-style home, and proof of that was now spilled all over the kitchen floor.

Tiny green buds were sprinkled across the white-and-black linoleum tile, some scattered in the blonde mess of curls that belonged to the boy kneeling before you, his mouth busy between your legs.

You’d been attempting to multitask, rolling a joint while twisted awkwardly at the dining table, the quarterback’s head shrouded by your bare thighs, lapping noisily at your wet center.

You huffed out a frustrated sigh at the spillage, but it quickly turned into a moan when goldilocks gave a particularly harsh suck on your clit.

“You needa get that?” he mumbled against your folds, tongue halting its assault only to speak before diving back in, showing no intention of stopping.

You shook your head, one hand moving to tangle in the his hair, the other crumbling up the now empty and useless rolling paper. “Uh-uh… prob’ly just some Mormons,” you answer, beginning to rock your hips up into the warm mouth covering your cunt. “I don’t wanna be saved.”

Chris… or Carl… or Craig… whatever his name was, laughed, the sound vibrating nicely against your heat. Your toes curled at the sensation, thighs wrapping tight around his ears.

He moaned appreciatively at your movement, running his tongue flat against the length of your opening. Maybe you could keep this one around. He liked New Kids on the Block unironically, but holy shit, he knew what to do with his mouth.

The bell rang again.

And then again, and again, and again.

“Oh, little seeeee-eeee-ster!” came a familiar male voice from the other side of the front door. “I know you’re in there, Bean. I can see your shadow in the kitchen!”

You shot up straight, aligning your posture and pulling Chris Carl Craig from between your legs by the grip you had in his hair. He gave an unappealing whine, his fingers moving up to console his scalp.

Standing quickly, you adjusted your pleated skirt so it fell normal again, just above your knees. “Up, up, up,” you impatiently urged the jock still kneeling on the ground, smoothing your clothing and hair to make sure nothing looked too out of place.

“Who is that?” the blonde asked, finally following you into a standing position, large hand still cradling his head. “Still the Mormons?”

“It was never Mormons, Chet,” you said, hoping your shot-in-the-dark guess at his name was right.

It wasn’t.

“It’s Chad,” he said, eyes beginning to narrow. Whether it was in suspicion, confusion, annoyance, or a combination of all three, you didn’t know. And it didn’t matter. You needed to get him out of here without your new visitor catching sight of him, or else you knew you’d never hear the end of it. Chad was still intent on conversing, though. “We’ve literally been in the same school district since, like, kindergarten.”

You bit your lower lip, offering a sheepish smile. “Right,” you said. “I know that.” You didn’t. “Sorry. Head’s a little loopy right now. Your tongue could win awards.”

With Chad’s newfound cocky grin, you knew the flattery angle had worked out. It usually did. Boys were such suckers for some ego stroking.

“Oh, fuckin’ right!” you heard from the front door, the visitor’s voice now cheerful. The door handle began to jangle, and you heard the sound of a key in the lock.

He must have found the spare. Of course he had. He’d only lived here his entire childhood, just like you.

The key had been in the same place it always had been since moving to Fresno -- under the coir doormat that read Definitely Not a Trap Door, courtesy of your father. He’d made it for the family after moving from Chicago to California for his new teaching position at CSU in ‘70. Your mom still hadn't gotten around to throwing it out, even though she’d managed to get rid of almost everything else inside the home that reminded her of her ex-husband.

The door swung open and there stood your older brother in all his punk rock, Fuck-the-Bourgeoisie glory. Short bleached blonde hair, numerous facial piercings, ripped Dead Kennedys t-shirt, tight red tartan pants, muddy black Doc Martens. He was smiling wide, dopey.

Fuckin' Rick.

You started to match his expression, unable to resist your brother’s effortless and childlike charm, but your smile fell flat when Rick’s now disapproving gaze landed on the blonde still standing at your side.

“A Letterman, Bean? Really?” Rick asked you incredulously, having spotted Chad’s football jacket as the jock in question slid it from its place on the kitchen chair to rest over his broad shoulder.

“What?” you asked Rick coyly, quickly eyeing Chad. “You know I don’t discriminate. I’m a true equal opportunist.”

Chad seemed oblivious to the underlying context of the conversation between the pair of siblings. He was watching the two of you interact with seemingly nothing behind his eyes.

God, so cute but so totally stupid.

You closed the distance between the two of you, Chad looking hopeful he was going to be kissed or something, but you instead reached your hand out to pluck a few pieces of weed from his hair. “You can go now,” you told him, finger tapping his nose lightly.

Chad’s face scrunched at your touch but he then shrugged it off, picking his backpack up off the kitchen floor before making his way to the front door. “See ya at school,” he said to you over his shoulder. Stopping briefly next to your brother, Chad assessed him before saying, “Um, bye, whoever you are.”

Rick pulled his lips into a tight line, raising his brows in amusement. He clapped his hand hard on Chad’s back a few times before pushing the footballer out the door. “Later, loverboy.”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

An hour and a half later, you and Rick were seated on opposite ends of the tufted tuxedo sofa in the living room. A box of half-eaten extra cheese pizza laid open in between the two of you.

Some low budget horror VHS was playing on the TV across from the couch, the volume low. You thought it was called Ghoulies. You kept catching glances of tiny, ugly wet looking monsters scurrying on the screen out of your peripheral.

You’d been talking to Rick about senior year at Fresno Central High (you said you were doing great, straight A’s across the board, but in reality, you were failing everything but English and Music).

You'd been talking about work at Spins and Needles, the record store you’d been employed at for a little over two years now (you told him you’d gotten promoted to Assistant Manager, which was true, but you left out the fact that you were on Strike Two of Three for blowing off shifts to get high with some goth kids that routinely came in a few hours before closing).

And you'd been talking about your mom (this you were honest about – “She’s still a huge bitch, Rick, that hasn’t changed”).

But then he tried to bring up your dad, asking in an obnoxiously forced nonchalant tone if you’d heard from him lately.

That’s where you stopped him.

You were not going to talk about your dad.

Flipping the pizza box lid shut harshly, you sat up straight and faced him.

“Why are you really here?” you demanded.

Rick sighed, defeated.

He knew you’d catch on soon enough that this supposed innocent visit was actually a planned mission. He’d just been hoping maybe you’d be the one to breach the topic of going back to Indiana with him. Maybe you wanted out of this Californian hellhole. A chance at a fresh start, hundreds of miles away.

But he knew you recently had developed a penchant for self-destruction and self-catastrophizing, which meant getting you to see the bright side and the positives of his request was going to be near impossible.

Still, he had to try.

“Mom called me,” he admitted, which earned him a dramatic eye roll from you. “I know you’re failing your classes. I know your boss has been blowing up the landline wondering why you keep closing up shop so early. And I know mom’s a bitch. I’m trying to save you from her. She said she’s thinking of enrolling you into St. Mary’s.” Rick wasn’t surprised at the bewildered scoff you gave to that, St. Mary’s being Indiana’s notorious Catholic boarding school for wayward girls. He’d finally gotten to the point, the real reason he was there: “Come stay with me in Hawkins, Bean.”

“Wow, Rick, so noble. It only took you, what, ten years to come back for me?”

Rick couldn’t help but flinch, your wounding words accusing. And accurate.

It was true.

Rick, at twenty, had left Fresno in an old RV he’d bought for dirt cheap, with plans to travel the country and get the fuck away from his parents, Ronald and Maureen Lipton.

Or, away from his mother, really.

Ron Lipton was generally fine -- until a certain point in his life. To outsiders, the man seemed to be very happy and very put-together, successfully established in both his home life and his career.

Ron and Maureen had gotten married just a few short months following their high school graduation, after finding out Maureen was pregnant with Rick.

With the draft ever present, Ron enlisted in the army, while Maureen enlisted the help of her mother-in-law to take care of Rick (and eventually you, once you were born, conceived on one of Ron’s short stints back home), so she could work on her doctorate in psychiatry.

After being honorably discharged a handful of years later, Ron had gotten his Master’s degree in education and creative writing.

To the public, Ronald and Maureen Lipton were fantastic at keeping up the facade of Perfect Suburban Family.

In private, however, the Lipton household was like living in a layer of Hell.

Where Ron was imaginative and endlessly inquisitive, instilling a love of storytelling and curiosity in his children, Maureen was passive aggressive and judgemental, harboring jealousy for the relationship her children had with her husband. This eventually festered a spiteful dynamic between her and Ron, and between her and her offspring as well.

When the two of you were younger, Rick in his late teens and you in your last years of elementary school, one of your favorite backyard games was to wonder aloud to each other how and why your parents had ever even gotten together in the first place.

You were both sure that it must have been an arranged marriage of some sorts.

Rick thought maybe your grandparents had made a deal with the devil, and to ensure the safety of the family, Ronald and Maureen were forced to be betrothed for life.

You thought maybe Maureen was an evil sorceress who had cast a spell on your father, trapping him in a loveless marriage that he was an unsuspecting victim in.

The truth was not stranger than fiction.

The reason behind their nuptials was simple, really: Ronald was raised to believe he needed to provide for his family, and after having knocked Maureen up not only once but twice, he was resigned to the fact that this was his path in life.

Devoted father, loving husband.

While he couldn’t stand his wife, her harshness and indignation usurping any positive characteristics she may have once had, Ron did love his children. Dearly.

Rick was his wild child; his rebellious, rambunctious trouble maker.

Ron would sit on the front porch late at night, waiting for Rick to get home and tell him all about his latest escapades. What parties he’d gone to, what girls he’d kissed, whether he preferred the high from acid or mushrooms more. Ron lived vicariously through his son, encouraging the boy to play hard, but to play hard responsibly.

You were Ron’s Little Leia of Alderaan; his opinionated, open-minded warrior, brave enough to stand up to any bully who’d dare to make fun of you or your friends. You were Ron’s daydreamer, his whimsical muse, his daily reminder that there was still innocent softness in this cruel world.

You would have Daddy Daughter Dates twice a week, where you’d do things like go to the roller rink or have picnics in the park, and they always ended with a two scoop mint chocolate chip ice cream cone shared between the both of you.

But Ron’s love for his life dwindled the second he stepped foot inside his house -- where he was forced to occupy space with his resentful excuse of a wife, a woman who would never miss a beat to berate him for every choice he’d ever made in his life.

With your older brother gone, the squabbles between Ron and Maureen got worse.

Rick had been able to placate his father and put himself in the line of Maureen’s fire, taking her verbal hits so his father didn’t have to. You, being only ten when Rick had left, didn’t have much ground to stand on with your parents arguing, and trying to step in as Rick had would usually only make things escalate.

Ron fantasized about leaving, starting over anew. The immediate and resounding “no” that his subconscious always answered himself with, thinking of the kids, dwindled down over time, until all of his fantasizing led him to making actual plans of departure.

Last year, right before summer break was set to start, Ron finally left.

Having taken PTO from the campus, he’d waited that morning for Maureen to leave for work and for you to be on the bus to school. Alone, he took the time to pack all of his belongings, leaving only a few things behind, all with you in mind -- things to remind you of him in his absence. He’d intended on coming back for you as soon as possible, wanting to settle in somewhere before dragging his daughter into his uprooted life.

But it was over a year now that Ron had been gone, and you could count on one hand the amount of times he’d reached out to you.

You could count them on two fingers, actually.

The first time was the night after he’d left, when he’d tried explaining to you his reasoning, which you weren’t at all interested in hearing. You were beside yourself that he’d left you, just like Rick had, except Rick was your brother and that was normal, but Ron was your daddy and he was supposed to always be there.

Your mother, in anger that Ron would attempt to talk to you and not her, had disconnected the call, and while you waited by the phone all night for him to call back, he never did.

The second and last time he reached out was a few months ago, via letter for your 18th birthday. It was postmarked with an address in Fort Worth, Texas. When you’d tried writing back, you'd found the letter you'd sent in your mailbox a week later, marked Return to Sender.

It was mid-November now, and you hadn’t heard from him since.

At least Rick had kept in touch after he’d left.

He’d sent you care packages every month since arriving to Indiana in '81. They were full of sci-fi and horror books he’d found at the local Goodwill or Salvation Army, newspaper clippings for outlandish Classified segments, scribbled notes on stained notebook paper detailing concerts he’d gone to and new bands he thought you should check out.

Remembering this, you softened quickly after accusing Rick of abandoning, your biting comment causing guilt to swirl in your stomach.

Rick had his reasons to leave, you understood that. He was allowed to live his life. And even though he’d done just that, left and lived his life, he still always managed to keep tabs on you. The two of you hadn’t gone more than a few weeks without letters sent or parcels mailed back and forth since he’d first left home.

Never there, but never gone. Not really.

That was more than you could say for your father.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” you admitted, even though the hurt words you spoke did hold some kernel of truth. “It’s just… I don’t wanna have to start all over somewhere else.”

“It’ll be good for you,” Rick promised, choosing to let the accusation of his abandonment slide. He was sure you'd both get into it more later, considering it was a conversation that was long overdue. “The house is too big for just me anyway, and you know I’m fuckin’ shit at decorating. I’ve basically just been using beer cans for bookends and stuff like that – you could make it look way cozier.”

You laughed, sure your brother wasn’t exaggerating.

Rick was about as anti-capitalist as you could get, and that included being a minimalist when it came to possessions. Give the man a hand-me-down couch, a little TV, some weed, his cassettes, and a subscription to Playboy, and he’d be content for the rest of his life.

You were the opposite.

You loved things.

You had many different collections you’d amassed over the years -- your vast assortment of books had spilled from the two bookshelves in your room to several stacks littered throughout the house, much to your mother's annoyance; your vinyls were shoved into four big storage bins stacked under your octagonal bedroom window, which you draped a blanket over and used as a makeshift window seat nook; your cliques of creepy looking dolls you’d collected from estate sales and antique shops crowded your bed, your vanity, the storage shelf in your closet; the bug assemblages you’d been adding to since your childhood had their own corner of your room, little homes full of ladybugs, ants, and deathwatch beetles.

The idea that you could expand your knack for interior embellishing (hoarding, really) further than the confines of one room was one thing that made you start to consider taking Rick’s offer seriously.

That, and the realization that finally getting the fuck out of Fresno might not be such a bad idea.

Because what did you have there anymore, anyway? Shit grades? A handful of mean exes? A dead-end job?

Was any of that worth staying for?

You thought of your dad trying to reach out to you via telephone, imagined your mother answering and telling him you’d moved away and no longer lived there.

If it were only a few months since Ron had left, you didn’t think you would have gone with Rick back to Hawkins. You would have stayed just for the mere possibility that your dad would show up on the doorstep one day, begging for your forgiveness for leaving you alone with your coldhearted mother.

However, it was over a year now that he’d been gone. One year, four months, and fifteen days... if anyone was counting.

You’d never verbally admit it, but you still were.

There was a page hidden in the back of your diary where you kept track.

Your hopefulness was starting to make you sick.

Maybe a change wouldn’t be so bad.

Going back to Hawkins with Rick sure beat being forced to attend an all girls’ reformatory school, one with a reputation that claimed the headmaster performed shock therapy on students in lieu of giving them detentions.

You were sure that was just a rumor, but still. You didn’t want to take any chances.

“Bean, let me be there for you,” Rick said, reaching over to grasp your hand with his fingers. You noted his nails were painted a lime green. “It’ll be just like when we were kids, except now you’re older and actually cool so I won’t be embarrassed to introduce you to all my friends.” Dipping his head to the side, he wiggled his pierced brows, a grin toying on his lips as he added, “And we can smoke weed in the house.”

Pretending as if that alone was what sealed the deal, you stood swiftly. “Say less. You really should’ve started with that, Richard.” You headed off in the direction of the stairs that led up to your room, glancing over your shoulder at your brother who was staring off after you with a relieved countenance on his face. “Gimme an hour and then we can go?”

Rick answered with two thumbs up before grabbing a slice of pizza, shoving as much as he could of it into his mouth as you disappeared up the spiral staircase.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie x you #eddie x reader #billy hargrove x reader #billy x reader #billy x you #mungrove x reader #mungrove #billy hargrove smut #eddie munson smut

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eddiemvnsonsbabymama · 2 years

Text

Pussy Poppin

Pairing: Rick Grimes X Fem! Reader

Summary: Being in the apocalypse meant that you had no time for your husband, Rick Grimes, since he was too busy being a leader and you were too busy being his..”vice leader.” That meant that both of you were extremely busy during the day and didn’t have time for each other. However after you both have a free night, you both decide to spend that night in bliss. Or (in simpler terms) you and Rick fuck all night

THIS BLOG INCLUDES: praising, pure porn, doggy style, switching positions midway, dom!rick grimes, hickeys, p in v, eating out, ass gripping, pet names, absolutely filthy grimey disgusting smut, small angst, unprotected sex (wrap your dick so you won’t have a kid ☝️), cream pie

BEFORE READING: aaaaa so sorry for the 4 month long hiatus. went through some bad shit and to be fair, i forgot my account existed so it’s just meh y’know. also it’s been awhile since i’ve written smut but this is dedicated to my dear friend kiyah :)

You were totally and utterly exhausted. It had been a day after Alexandria was ran over by walkers, tearing apart every person they saw, but one brave soul had stepped in to clear them off: your husband, Rick Grimes. He was an incredible leader. You both hadn’t met before the apocalypse, but as the months went on, you became his right hand woman..then his wife. It happened in a span of a year after his first wife had died while giving birth to his newborn daughter and it sucked seeing your best friend in such a bad situation, even though everyone had counted on him. Hell, he killed his best friend so your group would sleep comfortably at night and wouldn’t have to worry about some psychopath going rampant after trying to kill Rick. That’s all that mattered in all honesty.

But nowadays, Rick didn’t have to worry about any psychopaths or cannibals ever since your group had arrived in Alexandria. Members of the group got their individual houses and you shared a house with Rick and his son, Carl. But work would only continue for you both within Alexandria and there was no time to relax or properly see each other. It was torturous, especially for you since you hadn’t loved anyone else as much as you loved Rick and when you didn’t see him as much in the day..well, it hurt. You would even wake up to an empty spot next to you on your shared bed, and you wondered if you can even call it a shared bed anyway since no one was inhabiting it.

You hummed softly as you tugged on an oversized shirt — Rick’s shirt since it was something that he’d probably wear — that stopped at your thighs and you sighed as you slipped on a pair of panties. You had recently showered so your damp hair was tied up to the nape of your neck and you walked from your room to down the hallway where Carl’s room was. You gently knocked, waiting for a response and you slowly opened the door to reveal the dark haired brunet laying on his bed with a comic on his lap. You peered only your head in with a soft smile and you waved. “Lights out in 15 minutes.” You playfully reminded, causing him to break out into a soft smile and he placed the comic book away.

“You think my dad is gonna come home tonight? I mean, he has to, right?” He asked you as you were about to walk back to your bedroom, but you stopped when you heard his question and your heart had dropped at his sentence. The same thing that you had told yourself countless times when you were alone those nights and you could merely shrug while offering a meek smile. “I hope so, sweetie. I really hope.” You reassured, watching as he was satisfied with your answer and you closed his bedroom door before you walked to your own bedroom. You were exhausted from how much work you had done in the day and you sighed as you turned off the lights within minutes within the shared bedroom before you crawled into the empty.

A few minutes later, you heard a click from Carl’s bedroom which put you at ease and you sighed as you closed your eyes before falling asleep. At this point, you had gotten used to the feeling of an empty bed, but it still didn’t stop the pang of hurt within your heart. Where even was your husband? Did he just..leave? Not like there’s anywhere to go, but it just sucked in general. As if your thoughts had been answered, a ghostly presence had over-loomed your arm and the sudden feeling of warm skin had made contact with yours. The familiar sensation had caused you to stir and you blinked as you tried to make out what had happened.

Instinctively, you called out,”Rick?” The bed had moved down, an inhabitant had taken up the empty space and you gasped softly as familiar, calloused hands had been placed over your cheeks. It was him. He was finally back. No words could express how happy you were to finally feel him since you had missed his touch so much and your lips had twisted into a smile as they pressed against his. He pulled away after awhile, laying his head into the crook of your neck and you felt the small stubble that took the entirety of his chin. “I’m sorry.” He rasped, his lips brushing against the hot flesh of your neck and you gently reached up to cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. There was a moment of silence, both of your breathing were mixed and you whispered,”You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

A thankful smile came across his face, causing him to lean forward and kiss you again. The first kiss was short yet sweet, but he pulled back to catch some air before he leaned in and kiss you again, except that he was more lustful with his kissing. You didn’t mind though because he was in your arms now and his hand reached towards your shirt before he pulled away, tugging on the hem. He looked up at you in the dark. “This my shirt?” Rick asked you, waiting for an answer and you couldn’t help, but sheepishly smile at his question. “Maybe.” You replied, causing him to chuckle softly and you immediately discarded your shirt, your nipples hardening from the cool air. You felt his lips kiss in between your breasts before they began to make a line down your stomach. Instinctively, your back arched from the lustful contact and you felt his teeth against your warm skin.

Your panties were pulled down past your knees, cold air hitting against your warm skin and you giggled softly when he placed your legs on either side of his head. “Is this your way of an apology?” You whispered, desperately trying not to moan from his kissing on either side of your inner thighs and the man stopped for a moment or two. “I guess so.” He answered, a small smile coming onto his face and you smiled too before you felt pleasure take over your body when his lips had wrapped around your clit. You almost gasped, but you quickly cover your mouth with your hand and your free hand grabbed ahold of his gray locks, causing a groan from him as you felt his tongue move further down.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you moaned softly, one of his toned arms wrapped around your thigh and his other hand had pressed against your pelvis to prevent you from squirming. His nose was pressed against your clit as he firmly moved his tongue up and down your folds before finally paying attention to your throbbing pussy. You tried hard to be quiet, but with the kitten licks he was doing and the feeling of his stubble against your thighs almost made you burst. “Fuck.” You cried out softly, hoping the lewd noises wouldn’t wake up the people within the house and you jolted your hips when you felt the pad of his thumb play with your clit. You moaned at the new sensation, his hand continuing its firm placement down on your pelvis and felt your orgasm beginning to come. “Rick, Rick, fuck — I’m close.” You said, your eyes were squeezed shut and your orgasm began to approach faster when the flick of his tongue began to gain speed with more rhythm.

Wet sounds emitted from his mouth as he continued to eat you out, causing a hazy sensation to take over your body as your back arched and you tilted your head back into the pillows. His tongue continued to speed up and your orgasm was steadily approaching, but he suddenly pulled away which made the warm feeling disappear and he grabbed your hips forward. “Get on your hands and knees.” He said, sounding out of breath and the sound of a belt unbuckling made you even more excited as you positioned yourself on your knees, your hands grabbing onto the panel end of the bed.

The mattress sunk from behind you, causing your stomach to burst with butterflies and you yelped when he had a firm grip on your hips, your ass near his pelvis as you awaited for the familiar penetration. His calloused hands moved upward, his fingers gripping the flesh of your ass and you anxiously waited for him. You gasped when he slammed hard into you, catching you by surprise that you almost fell forward if his grip hadn’t tightened and you sighed as he began roughly thrusting into you, the flesh of your ass hit against his pelvis. Soft groans emitted from him as you moaned softly, trying your best to be quiet for a second time at that point.

“You’re doing so good, honey.” He praised with his gruff voice, digging his fingers deeper into your flesh and you moaned at his praise alone. Hearing those words from him made your heart throb and you continued to moan when his thrusting picked up pace, the headband starting to creak against the wall. “That’s it. Just relax.” He said, leaning over you to kiss your spine which made you shudder and all you could do was meekly nod. Your head was dizzy and hazy from earlier events, but you were suddenly free from that feeling when he began pounding harder into you.

The headboard banged against the wall, your moans and his gruff groans, and the sound of skin slapping filled the room as he relentlessly pounded into you with no remorse. You had gripped the bedsheets so hard that your knuckles were turning white and your body had bounced with every rough thrust he did, pleasure consuming your body. “Oh, fuck. Fuck.” You whined, squeezing your eyes shut and your moans began to grow louder as his nails dug harder into your skin. “Rick, I’m close. I’m close.” You reminded him, breathing heavily and you gasped when he turned you around, laying you on your back before placing your leg onto his shoulder.

He continued with his hard thrusts, his groans were louder than before and through the darkness, you could see the tip of his cock in your lower stomach. He was deep into you, leaning forward to groan into your ear and it felt like hours as he continued fucking you; having to stop twice to hold back his orgasm and he still continued as your chest began to rapidly rise and fall. “Rick, Rick, please.” You pleaded, your head dizzy from how good he felt in you and sweat began to form at both of your foreheads. He looked down at you, seeing at how fucked out you looked which drove him insane and his thrusts grew faster.

The speed made your orgasm wash over, your pussy clenching around his cock as you arched your back and your moans came spluttering as he continued to roughly fucking you through your orgasm. “That’s it, honey. You’re doing so well for me.” He breathily praised, his hips still thrusting into you before he came with a loud groan, cum spilt into your stomach and he felt his arms slightly grow weak as you both breathed heavily. He slowly pulled out, his cock still emitting strings of cum from your pussy and he groaned as he placed the pad of his thumb on the entrance of your pussy. “We’re not done yet.”

You were so fucked out of your mind that you didn’t even catch onto his sentence and you tilted your head to the side in confusion. You might’ve thought that you made up what he said. “Wha—What?” You asked, your mouth going dry and you watched as his silhouette towered over you. “I said. We aren’t done yet.” And then you sighed in exhaustion. This was going to be a long night.

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

#Spotify #rick grimes #the walking dead #the walking dead smut #rick grimes smut #rick grimes x reader #eddiemvnsonsbabymama #andrew lincoln #andrew lincoln smut #save a horse ride a cowboy #the walking dead season 6

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skzswife · 1 year

Text

Why don't you come find out?

(Lee minho x fem reader)

⚠ warnings⚠ unprotected sex (in pt 2) reader has panic attack mean Minho Dom Minho toxic ex mentions of abuse I think that it lmk if not

Your best friend since 3rd grade decided to drag you to a party after you being in your room sulking after your boyfriend of 4 years cheated on you with the girl he told you not to worry about. This is how that went

Gina busts through the door so hard you think it'll fly off the hinges "Get dressed noona" "for what" you say with a confused look on your face that she chuckles at "For the party we are going to so you'll stop sulking and talk to people, plus there'll be hot boyyys" she says wiggling her eyebrows "No" you deadpan pulling your covers back over your head "ughhhh girl you need to get out plus chan really misses you he hasn't seen you since Jack (your ex) and hes worried abt you" "...fine, only to make him feel better though" Gina practically tanks you out of bed by the ankles and to your closet "hmmm not this definitely not this a party not a church..AHA this will work!" She says as she pulls out a dark ruby colored mini dress with a small cutout in the chest and a slit in the thigh "oh wow didnt know we were going to a strip club." "Calm down girl its flattering and these shoes will work" she pulls out a pair of ruby red 2 inch heels "now go put these on and I'll do your makeup!" You reluctantly grab everything and get dressed she then does your makeup and you get in the car and a realization hits you "Wait!.. Chan is friends with Minho" "yeah its fine he said he probably wouldn't come anyway" " oh ok " you reply relieved you arrive and enter the building to be pulled into a bonecrushing hug by chan "Noona I missed you! I was so worried" "y-yeah chan im f-fine but I can't b-breathe" you wheeze out and he lets go quickly and you gasp for air "sorry I'm just excited to introduce you to my friends" "oh yay" you say faking excitement, Chan pulls you through a crowd to his group of friends and he starts introducing you "noona this is jisung,Felix,hyunjin,seungmin,I.N, changbin, and my other friend is missing but we'll find him later, they all excitedly shake your hand and hug you shouting his and omg you seem so cool and nice to meet yous after that you grab some water and start dancing with Gina when chan suddely grabs you and drags you over to his last friend who had just arrived and your jaw dropped it was ths one person you didn't want to see Lee Minho with that typical cocky smile "well hello kitty long time no see" you feign gagging and roll your eyes "you guys know each other?" "No chan we hate eachother." "Hate is a strong word princess" he says with fake pain on his face resulting in you walking away hoping he doesnt see your slightly red face (you hated him you really did didnt you? You wanted to but your heart betrayed you every time he was close god those perfect features made it so hard to hate him)

You spent a while dancing with Gina when you feel a hand on your shoulder and Gina gives you a look before walking away not knowing she was leaving you with someone from your past so bad you couldnt even bring yourself to tell her. You spin around and the blood drains from your face "R-rick?" The man smiles ominously "hey angel you look like you've seen a ghost whats wrong sweet cheeks?" You cant even speak and you just mutter "I- you-how-why.."

"Jeez miss me that much my sweet thing?" He chuckles as he raises a hand causing you to flinch and try to back away "Where do you think your going darling!?" He seethes as he grabs your wrist tight enough to make you since you speak in a quiet tone not wanting to cause a scene "p-please let me go I didnt do anything" "I know honey" he say as he caresses your cheek with his free hand and you try to pull away causing his grip to tighten "o-ow!" "Shut up and nothing will happen ok?" From across the room you see chan and Gina talking not realizing whats happening "I'll be quiet pmease just let me go your hurting me" "stop being dramtic unless you actually want me to hurt you y/n." He leans down to whisper something in your ear and smirks at you while letting go. You start hyperventilating and sobbing silently and start to have a panic attack and then in the blink of an eye Rick is on the floor with someone straddling him punching him relentlessly the person blurred by your tears says in between punches "when*punch* someone says * it hurts * you let * go if she says * let go * you let * go. Understood?" Rick nods desperately "y-yes I do" "good" then ths man suddenly pulls you into an embrace stroking your hair telling you its alright and you find yourself relaxing and then you realize who it is when chan comes over and yells "MINHO WHAT THE HELL YOU CANT JUST PUNCH PEOPLE UNTIL THEYRE BLEEDING FOR NO REASON!!" minho quietly replies because he doesnt want to stress you out more "no reason? Are you fucking serious right now chan? I was protecting YOUR friend from him because he was hurting her and weren't even paying attention and stop yelling right now your just going to make it worse." Chans angry expression drops immediately and he looks at you stepping toward you "did he hurt you Y/n? I'm sorry I should have paid attention to you are you okay?" As chan steps closer you look at him with red puffy eyes from crying and nuzzle farther into minhos chest "No chan im not okay. You promised me you would always be there to protect me and...you werent. Please leave me alone" "o-ok" chan replies stepping back as gina steps forward you step back behind lee know he puts an arm out signaling for her to stop but she just scoffs "dont tell me to stop shes my best friend I need to be there for her." Minho stands firm in between you and her "but you werent there for her that's my point she needed you and you werent there" you tug at his shirt signaling him to come down so you could whisper in his ear "I wanna leave" he nods and grabs your hand leading you through the crowd "We are leaving" he says as you exit and climb into his car the drive is silent but as you pull up you invite him in and he accepts you entwr your apartment and head to the couch as you sit he lays his head on your thighs blushing which makes you giggles "what's so funny L/N?" You blush at him calling you by your last name "nothing your just blushing and I thought it was cute" it takes him a bit to process and when he does it only takes a few seconds for your lips to be connected in a sloppy but passionate kiss teeth clashing but still hungry for more you climb onto his lap and start to grind earning a grunt from him that only riles you up more but he breaks the kiss "we shouldnt do this" "I dont care about the consequences I wanr you as much as I want to hate you I can't" you kiss him again this time with more lust behind it as you fumble to take your dress off breaking the kiss to do so you blush as he admires your chest as if its the most beautiful thing he's ever seen (to him it was) he stares wide eyed before he kisses you again and you melt into it tugging at his shirt desperately trying to get it off earning a chuckle from him "need help kitten?" You grumble as he breaks the kiss to take it off and now its your turn to stare 'i mean you always knew he was fit but DAMN' you think as you trace the ridges and valleys of his abs when something catches your eye.. A small scar on his stomach...

Taglist

@feybin @hhhyunjinnnn @bristidutta

Red means it wont let me tag you(check privacy setting)

#skz smut #stray kids fic #stray kids imagine #skz #stray kids x female reader #lee know smut #stray kids hard thoughts

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listofwhyyouloveher · 5 days

Note

hey heyehye <33 what about Bob Hughes x fem reader, where he's all gooey and mushy (all lovey-dovey) because he's tripping balls and out of his mind and wants to have sex with reader? but, y'know, the drugs just do something to him and as soon as he's inside all big talk about wrecking and dominating her is just gone and reader ends up having to take care of him during sex?

like full on bob acting cocky about being a dom and then just completely melting into a needy sub when he's inside <333

Summary: Bob spends some time with you while he's wired.

Warnings: smut, just pure smut, use of HARD drugs, romantisization of hard drugs/injections.

Author's Note: ty to everyone who requests things, just know it will take a while..LOL

Bob's new favorite thing to do was to walk into a pharmacy like a cowboy, watch Nadine and Rick create a diversion, take the strongest shit he can find, shoot it, and then poke and prod and rile you up until you'rered faced angry and bout to send his sorry ass to heaven early.

He was never one to act out anything while he was strung, letting his mind hop from interest to interest as he pleased. However, that didn't mean that it wouldn't happen, in fact, once in a blue moon you'd find yourself shaded by an unfamiliar roof, letting out squeaks of pleasure as you gripped your arm to stop the dotting blood from your previous injection.

Right now, Bob's fingers were gently stroking your fluttering opening, pulling the knot in your stomach tighter and tighter. Your toes curled with the same hazy pleasure that you'd find in the rattle of a pill bottle or a fresh prescription. "Jesus christ, Bob," You whimpered, your eyes echoing the sentiment, filled with adoration and pleasured tears.

He'd been touching you, slowly, for about 10 minutes, complimenting every trace of your face, whispering every dirty thing he'd do to you, pressing against your clit harder to stimulate you.

"C'mon, pretty baby," He slurred, trying to coax another half-hearted orgasm out of you. "Bob, don't waste my time," You struggled, closing your legs around his hand. "Gotta prep you dollface, not gonna go easy on ya tonight," He teased, and your hips jolted. It'd been so long since your last GOOD fuck. Sure, there are the quickies or the times that feel like one night stands, ending with a simple click of the lamp and the flooding darkness instead of something real, but when Bob gets going, it presses at the back of your throat and at the bottom of your heart. It reminds you of the boy you fell in love with. Not like you're not in love with Bob, but sometimes its good to unwind and feel a little immature.

With a quick flick of his wrist, he had you squirming against his fingers again. "God, is that enough prep?" You groaned into your pillow, feeling totally diminished. "Sure, dolly." He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. In a swift motion, his belt was on the ground and his length was positioned at your entrance. "Slowly, alright?" You whispered, he nodded half-heartedly, more focused on where his cock spearheaded your slick opening.

Your hands tingled, reminding you of the heavy influence that was about to wash over you. Bob kissed the valley of your breasts. "Feel it?" He whispered, looking up at you while kissing your chest. You sighed, happily, "Yeah," then dragged a delicate finger across his back.

Slowly, Bob inched his way in, getting lost in both how you sucked him in and the increasingly overwhelming feeling of the drugs. He bottomed out with a sigh, massaging your tummy where his sheated cock pressed through. His hands slid up to your side, squeezing you like a teddy bear. "Aren't you going to move?" You ask, after a little bit of silence and complete stillness. You studied his face and noted how he looked like he could barely keep it together. "Yeah..yeah, just..give me a moment," He sighed, pressing his face into your neck. You let him breath for a little bit before you realized he wasn't ever planning on fucking you. "God, you're a pain in my ass," You muttered, pushing him back so he was laid out on his back. You sat up, situating yourself in cowgirl and giving him a mean-spirited pinch. "I'm not a pain," He murmmured, looking slightly offended. "Yes you are," You retorted, slowly circling your hips to elicit a whimper from him. "Just, give me a couple minutes, I'll do it." He said, pressing the back of his hand over his eyes. Your tense shoulders slumped, an frustrated sound escaped your lips. "Can't wait that long." You tugged your top lip in between your teeth, "Spare me your ego and just let me…" You trailed off, reaching down to tease at his halfway exposed shaft.

Bob opened his mouth but no sound came out, his hands gripped your hips suddenly and he very slowly moved you against him. His head lolled as he lost himself and you were quite suprised that you were able to stay more clearminded than him. You let him slowly use you, relishing in the way your clit sent sparks of pleasure everytime it caught against his toned pelvis.

His grip loosened and you started to move faster, up and down. A ring of slick formed at the base of his shaft as you rode him. His eyes were bleary and his hands found purchase on the flesh of your ass, gripping hard enough to leave red marks. "Fuuuck," He groaned, biting the back of his hand to conceal the noises. His eyes reflected the stars, as if he was the intoxicant, he was the feverish dreams you get from getting too high. You stroked his cheek gently and he turned his head to press a kiss to your palm. You held your hand there, losely, against his lips, as you continued to ride him. Faster and faster, until you tipped over the edge, a line of dominos falling. You lurched forward, catching yourself by straightening your arms, and let out several gasping breaths.

It wasn't as if you've never orgasmed before, but this feeling left you speechless. You were floating, entirely surrounded by bliss, every nerve was numbed to the perfect amount that made you feel seperate from the world as a whole. Bob looked like he was feeling similar effects. His eyes were closed in deep concentration, as if he was trying to hold onto that feeling, and his hand gripped yours against his cheek.

With a flutter, your high came to an end, as did Bob's. Truthfully, he was glad that it stopped. He had something to say to you that he'd been thinking the whole time you were together.

"I love you, Y/n," He mummbled, slurring his words a little. "I love you too, Bob."

#shroomsroom #clara'sroom #bob hughes x you #bob hughes x reader smut #bob hughes x reader #drugstore cowboy x reader #drugstore cowboy x you #drugstore cowboy

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kelthebarb · 1 year

Text

ABOUT ME!

hello hello !!

i’m kelian, keli, or kel (feel free to call me either), i’m 19, and i write fanfiction :)

here are some of the fandoms & characters i write for

— TWD

genres: angst, fluff, smut, platonic, headcannons, oneshots, alphabets

carl grimes, rick grimes, daryl dixon, michonne grimes, enid rhee, maggie rhee, henry sutton, rosita espinosa, glenn rhee, tara chambler, ron anderson

— AOT

genres: angst, fluff, smut, platonic, headcannons, oneshots, alphabets

hangë zoe, eren yeager, levi ackerman, jean kirschtein, armin arlert, connie springer, mikasa ackerman, sasha braus, annie leonhardt

— VLD

genres: fluff, angst, platonic, headcannons, oneshots

pidge gunderson, lance mcclain, keith kogane, matt holt, princess allura

— MHA

genres: angst, fluff, smut, platonic, headcannons, oneshots, alphabets

mezo shoji, hitoshi shinsou, shoto todoroki, katsuki bakugou, touya todoroki/dabi, izuku midoriya, eijiro kirishima, denki kaminari, tenya iida, hanta sero

— GMW

genres: fluff, angst, platonic, headcannons, oneshots

lucas friar, farkle minkus, riley matthews, maya hart, shawn hunter

— KNY

genres: smut (only for some characters), fluff, angst, platonic, headcannons, oneshots

tanjiro kamado, inosuke hashibira, zenitsu agatsuma, giyuu tomioka, rengoku kyojuro, tengen uzui, obanai iguro, sanemi shinazugawa, himejima gyomei, muichiro tokito, gyutaro shabana

— ATWOW

genres: smut (only for some characters), fluff, angst, platonic, headcannons, oneshots

[nga yawne lu oer - lo’ak sully]

[mean - neteyam & lo’ak sully]

lo’ak sully, neteyam sully, kiri sully, jake sully, neytiri te tskaha mo’at’ite, aonung, tsireya, rotxo

— COD

genres: angst, fluff, smut, platonic, headcannons, oneshots, alphabets

[if i could tell her - john “soap” mactavish]

[my future - simon “ghost” riley]

simon “ghost” riley, john “soap” mactavish, kyle “gaz” garrick, john price, alejandro vargas, keegan russ, alex keller, könig

— GHOST

genres: angst, fluff, smut, platonic, headcannons, oneshots, alphabets (only platonic for the girls because i’m gay)

[mountaindew angst blurb]

swiss, dew, mountain, phantom, aether, rain, cumulus, cirrus, aurora

- WHAT I WILL WRITE

dom/sub dynamics

ships

pet names

pretty tame kinks (also piss if ya filthy) (i am)

character x reader

- WHAT I WILL NOT WRITE

odd kinks, shit, age regression, etc

incest

fem!reader

yandere characters/readers

requests that make me uncomfortable

n that’s pretty much it ! my requests are open, so feel free to send in some !

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thewritersaddictions · 1 year

Text

Bases: Negan Smith- Chapter 5 All For You

Pairing: Negan Smith x Fem!Reader

Pov: Negan Smith/Reader

Warnings: PinA, PinV, Smut, wrap it before you tap it, Alexandria, Mention of Rick Grimes, Time jump, Dom&Sub relationship, 'I love you' uttered, angst, fluff, zombies, the walking dead.

Summary: While in Alexandria, you can't help but see just how hot Negan is, so you ask to take your relationship just a bit further Negan doesn't deny you the pleasure.

A/n- @ firefly graphics for dividers

WC- 4.7k

The Walking Dead Master List // The Wanderers Master List // Series Master List

“I should be back later tonight, darlin'.” I said to Y/n as I hooked my leather jacket around my shoulders. Y/n was still lying in bed. Bed hair was evident even if she tried to smooth it down as she lifted herself to her elbows. Watching me walk around the room. Today was the first actual meeting with Ricky Dicky. He had gladly told us where his settlement was, an old housing development called ‘Alexandria’. Fine by me as long as he listened to the rules and made sure not to fuss about things.

“Do you have to go…” Y/n whined. I wanted to roll my eyes. Sometimes her whines were the sounds of heaven to me, and other times it was like nails on a chalkboard. “Sweetheart, I’ll be back later on.” A pouty bottom lip was thrown out as she gave the best version of her puppy dog eyes. I walked over, putting a hand on the wall to support myself as I leaned down to meet her gaze. “Put that bottom lip away unless you want me to do somethin’ about it.” Y/n was relentless, sticking her bottom lip out even further. I reached even further down, our lips brushing and the pouting lips falling back. “If I kiss you, will you shut up and return to bed, sweetheart?” I ask, feigning annoyance. Y/n looked up at the dimly lit ceiling, “Take all the time you need to answer me.” Sarcasm dripped from each letter.

“I’ll take your kiss.” Y/n finally obliged as I finally got to brush my lips against hers. Our teeth didn’t clash, and our tongues didn’t dance together. This was a kiss of equal admiration and love. I had yet to say those words, but I always felt that actions were better than words. You could say whatever you wanted and make it mean something, but to hell if your actions didn’t speak louder than words to anybody else. This world, or the old one, efforts ruled it. A cold small hand came to wrap around the base of my neck. Pulling me in desperately. I'd never leave this bed if I didn’t fight this war. I pulled away, “I’ve got to go…” I huffed out as my lungs filled with air, “But…’ She whined once more. I pressed a finger into her wet lips. “No more buts. How about this? Whenever I get home, I’ll give you another proper fucking.” Y/n’s eyes were blown out at the sound of my words hitting her ears. She nodded quickly, and for once, Y/n shut up and did as she was told.

The trip to alexandria has been eventful in a way that left me sore in the shoulders, and aching to fall asleep on nice sheets, a fluff pillow and his girl between his arms. Regardless though Negan still has to get through the rest of the day’s trip. Rick is being well submissive in the best of words and it sends a great feeling to my ego. Yet, all I can think of is Y/n. How much desperate she was that I stay this morn’, how she grabbed me hard and pulled me down to meet her lips when she had gotten frustrated with my play of games.

I don’t stop thinking about her until he’s back into the halls of the sanctuary. The halls are filled with bickering people, but the sound of doors shutting and people going to bed. Lures me as well to my own bed. A sleeping figure lays in loosely in the shape of my bed. Hair spread out across the pillows and she’s curled into herself like a ball. I can’t help but want to climb into bed beside her. I promised her a good fucking before I had left for Alexandira. So I planned for just that thought, I stripped down placing my bat Lucille down on the floor. Stripping out of the black leather jacket throwing that on to the couch back. My t-shirts lands on the floor, along side with my jeans and boxers.

I pulled the sheets back allowing for cold air and myself to slot in behind the curl up ball that is Y/n. She hums with approval as I pull her closer to my stomach. My cock stirs to life as it presses agasint the swells of her ass. She moans as I buck myself into her ass, I slip my hand around her waist grazing my hand closer to her panties. She moans agasint the pillows with soft breaths leaving her mouth. I press my lips into her neck, sucking gently on her skin. I rut myself into me ass and my fingers play at the edges of her panties and then I dip my fingers I inside of her panties.

Her slick covers my fingers as I plunge them into her cunt. She sighs softly, and she shifts in her sleep. “Fuck, so wet for me.” I whisper mostly to myself. I’m gently with my movements, but the feel of her tight cunt sucking me in, my hips quicken up as I contiune to rut my hips into her. My cock throbs from the aching feeling. When I feel that I’ve properly stretched her out, I pull my fingers out, dripping down to my wrist. I suck on my fingers loving the taste of her.

I wipe my fingers on the side of the sheets before digging my hand back under the sheets, and pulling her panties to the side. This pair is just like the other, instead green with a little bow on the front of them. With her panties moved to the side I wait for a moments beat to make sure she’s still pretty much asleep. I grab the back of her knee, hiking it up as I shift on the bed to slot myself between her thighs.

Warm skin touches my own, and I dazzle at the sensation it brings along with it. I rub up and down her inner thigh as I edge myself closer to the sweet, dripping hole. It’s all but calling for me to just slip right in, and fuck her nice and good. Nice a proper like i had promised Y/n, just a few hours ago. Y/n moans loudly as I slip the head of my cock into her tight walls. Her hand squeezes around the sheets tightly, making her knuckles turn white. My breathe is broken a little as I come to a full hilt. Her walls are tight around me and as I pick up my slow thrusts my hips bang up agasint hers. She groans beside me, “Fuck!” She says in a hushed, and broken voice.

“There you go.” I mutter as my hips continue to thrust. “Negan!” She moans softly before bucking up agasint me. “Shit you’re so tight for me.” I can’t really think of words as I slip my cock almost all the way out before plunging it back into her. “NEgan… please, oh god you’re… fuck you’re so… so big.” Y/n is awake now, her moves her arms so she can wrap it around my arm on her wasit. Keeping us tightly connected to each other. “So good!”

–

Two months later Y/n is begging to go with me on our next trip. Alexandria isn’t really where I want to bring her. Rick is still off, not quiet there yet to be a good, submissive, ideal to support the sanctuary but Y/n won’t shut up about it. “Don’t leave me here again please, Negan!” she begs me as she notices the plan written down on the paperwork I have next to me. For nearly a week she begs me, in many different ways. Verbally asking me, getting down on her knees sucking my cock wishing and hoping that I’ll take her alongside me, she even turns into a little housewife in the short week. Taking care of all the cooking, cleaning off my bloody jeans or shirts. Hell she even meticulously cleans off Lucille with care.

Eventually I end up just conceding. Y/n wakes up that morning with a bright smile on her face, white teeth shining as the morning sun glows on the horizon. The truck is tight, so that leads for Y/n to end up sitting on my lap. She tries to stay still in my lap, but let’s be honest she’s far to excited to not be jumpy, and bumping in my lap as we drive down the roads.

I try to keep my thoughts mild, trying to think of what bullshit will happen when we make it to Alexandria. I’m mot sure why I’m so fucking anxious, it’s not like Rick would really try anything. I had given him long enough already to get his shit together. We had already taken what we wanted, guns, food even though that was limited. All together it hadn’t been to be of a run out, but now that Y/n was with us there was something different about the way my chest felt, and how my stomach chruned at the thought of Y/n standing beside me or even behind me. “I don’t really like Simon.” She had said one night as the two of us laid in be with each other. I hummed at her words, “ I’m not a fan of him either, but he gets the fuckin’ job done.” I told her out right and simply, that Simon probably wasn’t gonna go anywhere any time soon. “I just… he gives me the creeps negan.” She whispered before shifting to face towards me.

Before I knew it the conversation was an afterthought as all I could think of now was the way that Y/n felt pressed up against me. Her ass pressed into my crotch as she hips bouncing with each every knot in the road that simon hit. His eyes never left the road, and two cars behind us never felt the view of the review mirror. “Oh Negan thank you so much… You just don’t even know how excited I am to be out and about again.” She’s glowing from above me, her eyes light up, and her cheeks are rosey. “I know dear, but can you promise me something?” I ask her, taking a hold of her gently in my lap. Y/n hums, looking over her shoulder at me. “I want you… need you to stay close to me. Can you do that for me, darling?” I ask her the last part whispered into her ears, as she shivers in my lap and hold around her waist. “Yes.” It’s a sigh of her words, but that’s alright as long as she’ll be safe with me that’s all I care about.

The gates of Alexandria open, and the little neightoboor that has now been turned into a town is awake with our arrival. The truck comes to a stop and Simon jumps out. Give Y/n, and I a bit of privacy before we get out ourselves. Y/n doesn’t show that she’s worried by any means, hell the smile written on her beautiful feature in a sense is almost creepy. “Are you ready?” My own panic showing through my question. She nods, before leaning down to grab my chin and pulling me in for a soft, and chaste kiss. I breathe her in, the sweet scent that follows her around, and the ray of sunshine on even the stormy days.

She hops down from the spot on my lap, and I grab Lucille before following behind her. She takes the surrounds, she seems entranced by the pool of water that’s in the middle of the neighboord, but before she can go off and disappear from my sights. I grab her wrsit pulling her close to my side. I take her to the man of the show, Rick. Who looks like he’s seen a ghost, and then become one. Pale, and sweaty from the place that I stand. “Be good baby, and I promise we’ll be back home soon enough.” I say before dropping her hand and walking towards the center of the stage.

—

Negan swings his arms above his head, Lucille looks sharp in his grasps and the nails sparkles under the hot sun. I’ve been standing off the side of Negan for the past twenty minutes, watching as he contiluy get’s angry then looks back at me and I smile sweetly at him. He breaths in and turns back with a new look at whatever they’re talking about in front of me.

The yelling and the swinging of his bat happen just seconds later. The smile I guess hadn’t been enough. I can’t help the excitement that rolls through my body as Negan grows dominant over the people who look like they’re scared shitless. I want to stay where I am, but the growing ache in between my thighs is new. The conversation that I had heard just a few days ago is sitting awake at the fore front of my mind. A group of younger ladies talking about some rather sexual things. An older one of them mentioned something, and it’s been rolling around in my head for days now.

Negan shouts loudly, and then there’s sounds of shouts and scream that aren’t his voice, but I can’t seem to care. All I can think of is the bend and curve of his back, and upper arms. The way his muscles flex under the fabric that is barely holding him. I know for a fact that his shoulders, and back have crescent of my nails imprinted all over. It’s causes the ache to grow even more. I step forward without thinking, and with that I walk over to him without thinking. Grabbing the meat of his bicep. “Negan?” I ask softly. “Huh?” He’s shook when he notices that it’s me, and that I’m softly touching him in front of these random people. “Y/n didn’t I tell you to…” He eyes me down, his eyes landing on the tops of my breasts and then he’s grazing down the rest of my body before his eyes land on my own.

I lick my lips, sticking my tongue out. “Negan… I want to go home.” I try to figure out my words. “Then…” He turns an eyes Simon. “Simon will take you home.” Negan says turning his attention back to the people in front of him. I shake my head, “negan i want to go home with you.” he eyes me again. Negans drops his arms. “Go home?” He questions. I nod and bite my bottom lip before squeezing his bicep and walking towards the truck with a sway in my hips.

On purpose, because the ache between my thighs is more then I can take.

—

“You my friends… Rick… you should count yourself lucky. My darling over there has naughty plans that I'd rather deal with then you.” I turn over to look at Simon, “You’ll deal with the aftermath of this correct?” I question him and give him not time to answer. I grab my bat and twirl it around my hand. I walk past Simon with a pat on his shoulder, my heart pumps. Y/n is sitting up on the chair I was using, I grab the wheel and pull myself into the cab. I don’t ask Y/n at first until we’ve reversed and left the town of Alexndria, hell I don’t care to ask her. Just the thought of her tight hole gripping me and pulling me in has me more then okay with not talking.

When i hear the click of the seatbelt I look over at Y/n. As she shifts from the chair to my lap. “Darlin’ what are you doing?” She pulls her hair to one side of her neck. “Just wanted a taste of you so badly, I wanna ask you something, but I gotta get up the courage somehow right?” her voice is so innocent, but her actions as she reaches to undo the belt, the button, and finally the zipper of my jeans.

I hadn’t noticed how tight my jeans felt until she was popping the button, and pulling down the zipper. “Can you help me, sir?” Her nickname goes straight to my cock, causing a wet spot to sport my boxers. I’m not ashamed by any means, just surprised by how forward Y/n is being with me. I lift my hips helping her to get my jeans off my hips, and when she wraps her hand around my cock it’s almost all over for me. My knuckles go white around the steering wheel, as I try to focus on the road, She jerks my cock in her hand before giving the head a few kittens licks, and kisses. “Oh sweet fuckin’ jesus.” I groan as my hold become ridgid on the wheel. She pops up, looks up at me. “Not jesus sweetheart, just me.” My brows knit together at the sudden full blow of confidence and sass that’s coming from her.

I don’t stop looking at the road, not even has her mouth sinks down on my cock. “What… oh fuck… what did you need sweetpea?” I ask her, through groans and shapr chances for breath. The head of my cock hits the back of her thaort and she gags around me, spit falling from each sides of her mouth. She’s beautiful as she moans around my cock, accidently bucking into her mouth. The sounds of her are lewd and driving me crazy. I don’t even feel my high reach it’s hilt until it’s too late and my head falls back slightly. A hand leaves the wheel as I force Y/n to take my load. She swallows with delight, and continues to suckle at my cock until the feeling is unbearable and I have to pull her from my cock.

“Holy shit, you’ve got my cummin’ like a damn teen again.” Y/n grins as she licks her lips free of any leftovers. “Fuck, girl you plan on killin’ me?” I ask her with a shiver running down my spine. “Not until I get to ask you a question Negan.” I look over at her, eyeing her up and down. “Shoot babygirl.” She helps tuck me back into my boxers at least the feeling of the stickiness behind my back and the leather chair. “I heard from some women…” I shoot her a look, “Don’t worry nothing bad, just wanted to get up the courage to ask you if… well… if you would… if we could…” Ever so shy I thought to myself as I eyed the road ahead. “If we could do it?” Y/n asks.

“Do it honey? Thought we were already doin’ it?” I tease her, she returns with a look that I can’t really place yet. “I mean” She takes a deep breath, “I want you to ruin my ass.” I don’t know what happens but my foot hits the breaks and the truck coems to a fast stop. My knuckles are back to being white. Y/n is staring right at me, “I’m sorry I shjouldn’t have≥…” “If you dare finish that sentence… fuck Y/n you can’t just drop that on me, god my shit are you sure? What did you hear anyways from these women?” I ask her two questions, but she’s already meddling with her thumbs.

“Alright… I yes I’m sure Negan. And to answer you other question I heard that some guys like it, liked the um… how tight it felt.” Y/n just barely manages to get out. “Well, If you’re absolutely sure than let’s do it.” I say, not commenting on the other womens words.”I do owe you.” I saw with a wink, and the rest of th trip in silent, and almost to slow for my liking. My heart is skipping a beat every second we are in the truck. The walls, and gate of the sacnautary come up quick. Then just like that we are back here, and Y/n is walking fast towards the bedroom. “Hold up…” I say reaching out for her wrist. Theres a sort of panic on her face, “Baby, if you aren’t okay with this just yet that’s okay.” I tell her honestly even if my cock is straining agasint my readjusting jeans.

She shakes her head and bites her lip. Out what I’m not sure. Panic is settling away from her features, and it’s helpful to my… well everything. “I want to, I’m just a little scared is all.” She finally settles on saying. Her hand is nestled int my plam, and Y/n looks up at me. “I’ll always be gently with you babygirl. Don’t gotta worry about nothin’ anytime soon.” I tell her, before opening up the door that leads to our bedroom.

The air is cool, but once we both get into the room. I’m pushing her into the wall. Kissing her with a purpose that I haven’t felt in a rather long time. Our mouth meld together, there’s a dance with our tongue and Y/n moans as I grazed a hand down her side, and the other holds her close to me on her back. In no time Y/n is a moan messing, and her head falls back as I leave a few hickies along the way. “Do you want me to…” I ask her as I lean away from her. “No I just want you do it already…” Her voice begging me for something she’s not entirely ready for. I don’t get a chance to say anything as when I look back over at from digging around inthe beside drawer to look for something to help us along the way. Y/n is slipping off her red panties.

“Holy shit darlin’ so pretty.” the words don’t take long to come out of my mouth as I drop the lube to the bed, and come around to take her in fully. Her breasts fall up and down as she breaths in deeper the closer I get to her. “Alright sweetheart. Let’s get this naughty show on the road.” She lips her licks and takes my outreached hand. “Come lay on the bed.” I say to her and as she sits down she shifts awakrldy. “Undress me.” I command her, trying desperately to get her mind off the matter at hand; not that’s its bad, but she’s off and this will not be good for the matter. Her fingers tumble now as they reach out grabbing the hem of my shirt and pulling it up for me. I do the rest, then nimble fingers are working on the belt, and finally they reach down undoing the zip amd pulling my jeans down my boxers.

“I can tell you’re getting excited.” I say to her, reacjin across to grab a budding nipple and tugging hard at it. She moans and stops her motions. “Don’t stop!” She moans out with excitment lacing her voice now. “I wasn’t planning on it.” I kick the jeans and boxers off to the side of the room, out of my way. I step into her thighs as she makes space for me. I bring a hand to her mouth, “Suck on my fingers while you fist my cock baby. Will you do that for me?”I ask her, she nods and open her mouth letting me slip my fingers deeply down her throat. Her hand wraps around my cock for a second time today. Getnly, and soft hands jerking me to a mellow speed, as i keep my eye on her the entire time. Her tongue works it’s magic around my fingers.

My hands doesthe same around my cock, and for once I don’t care, “Fuck… you’ve got me so close.” I moan out trying to inch myself closer to her touch, she does another unexpected thing. She reaches down grabbing my balls and groping them. It sends me over the edge as she fondles them with care. “Oh swee– fuck baby oh god youaresogoodtome.” The words come out like mush and half of them don’t sound like words at all, but the edge hits well, as I explode all over her chest, and legs.

“Negan…” I hum from my perfect state of mind. “Negan will you just fuck me already!” She begs, “You’re such a cock slut you know that… just beggin’ for me to fuck you, can’t even let me enjoy myself.” She whines as I shift putting my knee on my the bed, and grabbing the back of both of her knees. Pushing them up and towards her frame. I nudge my cock into her clit, “Give me all you got baby, wet my cock like the good little slut you are.” Y/n whines more, as I rub my cock between her folds neglecting the only spot she wants me right now.

I reach over, grabbing the lube from it’s spot on the bed. “You ready sweet girl, I gotta make sureyou can take my big ole cock, in this tight little hole.” She looks up at me, “I’m ready sir, please of fuck please just do it already.” I pop the cap of the lube open. Dripping down her cunt, and letting it fall to her prescius little hole. Everything about this has me trying my best to not just ram my cock into her. I throw the lube off the side, and press my thumb gently in, she clenches. “Relax doll, I’ve got you.” I mutter before feeling the resistance stop for a moment. “Opening you up for me. Gotta take this big cock.” She sivers but her legs are still pressed into her chest, two fingers later and a lot of scissoring. I feel that Y/n might be able to take me. I slip my cock from between her wet fold, and press the tip of my cock agasint her tight hole.

“Take a breath with me.” In once second we lock eyes and breath in together. I slip the tip of my cock past her tight holes entrance, and she nearly stops breathing. Her eyes glaze over, “Sweet jesus, fuck… You. Are. Tight.” I have to steady my own breathing, before continuing. It takes a few moments, before the hilt of my cock it pressed agasint the swell of her ass. Skin touching skin.

“Look at you, holdin’ on to me so tight. Don’t you worry about me leavin’ sweetheart i don’t blame on it anytime soon.” I pull out gently and then thrusting back in, her qhines are high pitched and pornographic. Her arms fall above her head grabbing onto the sheets above. Knuckles gooing white. I press a hand into her hip bone, and my hands falls wide against her skin. My thumb resting just above her clit. I continue my thrust picking up speed with each in and out motion, my thumb lands on her clit at one point, and she screams out silently. “There you go. Eyes rolling to the back of her head, she’s hit a place where she’s just living, and loving her fucking life. My thrust flutter as she grippes me cock tightly, everything about this makes me wanna unload into her tight little hole, and watch it seep out. “Oh fuck negan! I’M GONNA… FUCK YOU’RE SO BIG, YOU’RE GONNA MAKEME CUM SO HARD, OH SHIT I JUST NEED TO CUM. WILLYOU LET ME CUM?” Y/n shouts, My thursts slow, and so does my heart all while my thumb works her swollen clit before she’s cum around noting and I’m cumming deep inside of her. “OH FUCK Y/N, SO GOOD FOR ME, ALWAYS SO GOOD FOR ME. LETTING ME USE YOU AS MY PERSONAL FUCKING TOY.” I groan out as I release my load. I fall into her, and she holds me tightly against her. “Was it good? Like the women said?”I whisper into her ear. “Hmm.” Is all Y/n says “I loveyou.” Y/n mumlbes as I get off of her. I just smile, and kiss her gently on the forehead before going in search of a towel for our messy bodies.

Completed on: 08/24/23

Posted on: 08/25/23

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enidette · 5 months

Text

PERV carl grimes x fem!reader

warnings — both are 18+, part two to caught, carl is a few years older than reader, reader is daryl’s adopted daughter, perv!sub!carl, carl is a peeking tom, cock slapping, oral (m and f!receiving), reader is kinda a mean!dom

ever since that night you haven’t left carl’s mind. the way you controlled him without even touching him, it drove him crazy. you instructed his every movement, told him when to stop, told him when not to stop. safe to say he was fucked stupid even though you didn’t lay a finger on him.

and he swears you’re tempting him.

the skimpier clothes you wear, always talking about how hot it is so no one bats an eye. but he sees right through you, he sees that teasing look you give him. you want to get another reaction out of him. his pride is telling him not to satisfy you, but everything else in him is screaming to give in.

then there’s the closeness, all of a sudden you’re always near him. if you can get away with it, touching him too. not in the way carl wants, in the way it’s so sickeningly close it drives him nuts. he’s always had his eye on you, you weren’t that much younger than him, close enough in age. but it’s different now.

“hey carl.” fuck, he can just hear it in your voice. it’s teasing and it’s flirty, and no one seems to notice a thing. trust, if daryl could tell, carl would be pounded into flat stanley.

carl gulps when your arm comes over his shoulder, your face way too close to his for him to act normal. “hi,” he breathes out, hand nervously coming up to your waist. he was standing next to his dad, who was going over something with your dad, and everyone’s dad, glenn.

“now that’s a little close.” daryl grumbles, pulling you more towards him. they’ve come to notice the shift in your friendship, of course never chalking it up to you watching carl fuck himself. but did they need to know that anyway?

you look up to your dad with pleading eyes, “actually, i was here to ask if i could babysit judith today?” carl’s eye widens, babysit judith his ass. she’s at the age where she does hardly anything but sleep. of course, that’s in his favor, and he’s growing nervous at your offer.

daryl looks between you and carl with a scowl on his face, then to glenn and rick who shrug. rick’s always happy for the extra help, not yet knowing what it’s like to have to watch over a grown daughter. “fine.” you clap and grab carl’s hand, walking away with him with a small ‘thank you’, ignoring their confused looks.

“why are you taking me with you?”

you take your hand out of his and cross your arms, “do you not want me to?” he shakes his head frantically and grabs your hand again, letting you lead him. he soon realizes you’re on the path to your house, not his.

he tilts his head, “what about judith?”

“she’s with olivia. she’ll cover for me.” you’re not exactly sure about that, but you’re willing to risk it.

carl nods, walking with you and trying to keep up the same pace. despite being so lost in his head. he clears his throat, “so… uh, what are we gonna do?”

you giggle, “you’re cute carl.” you don’t miss how his ears turn red, the confusion spreading over his face. no doubt he’s never been called that before. “we could… read comics?”

he can hide the dejection on his face, that little cover up story, sneaking off together, all to read comics? “are you just trying to drive me crazy?” you turn to him with a smile and wink, walking him up your steps.

the longer he’s there the more pissed off he gets. you truly did just read comics. despite the glances you kept sending his way, like you were waiting for something, you never actually did anything. don’t get him wrong, he loves the spider-man volumes you have, but he thinks he’d love his head buried between your thighs more.

he can’t help but zone out thinking about it, adjusting his jeans when they get too tight. you watch him amusedly as his eye stays on one page for a good five minutes. “you done yet?” his gaze snaps up, looking to his side for you before looking up.

“when did you get up?”

“oh a long time ago.” you didn’t, you just stood up to go shower, but it was funny to mess with him. watch his pretty face turn red knowing you’re the only one who’s done it. “anyway, i’m gonna go take a shower.”

his face turns possibly even redder and he just nods curtly. he watches you walk around your room to grab everything you need, focus trained on your hips especially. when you turn around he scrambles to pick his comic back up, squinting his eye shut when you laugh. he waits until you go into the bathroom, he waits until the water runs to finally breathe.

he looks down and fucking hell is his boner obvious. he doesn’t know whether to be upset that you didn’t make fun of him this time or not. he sighs, unzipping his jeans and palming himself through his boxers. he has to be quick, before you can get out and catch him, again. or maybe he could let it play out… his head was a mini battle field.

no matter how hard he focused the running water brought him out of his head. he felt so gross, but it couldn’t be too bad if he stole a peek? just so things wouldn’t have to be all his imagination anymore.

he zips his pants and looks out the door, making sure daryl hasn’t come home yet. he crosses the hall to the bathroom, furrowing his brow at the ajar door. he pushes it a little and pokes his head in just enough to see. he swore he could cum then and there, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away no matter how hard he tried.

he lost track of time, practically drooling at the sight in front of him like some stupid teen boy. which he guess he had a mind of, after all that little night you two had together was the first time he did anything with anyone.

his eye widens when you step out, while body on display with water droplets cascading down. he was frozen, unaware of his hand going down his pants as you changed in front of him. he felt dirty, you had no idea did you?

oh you did, he should have known better, seriously. it’s you, he’s him, he’s a fucking perv. you knew it, you knew you had to tempt him. it’s what you had been waiting on. you needed him to finally give in and do just what you expected so you had the excuse to use and punish him just how you wanted.

he leans his head against the edge of the door frame, eye shut and mouth agape in a silent moan as he tries to get off before you notice. but you swing the door open, fist latching onto his collar to bring his face towards yours.

“what are you doing?” you ask with a knowing smirk. god, he’s so shameless. he looks embarrassed but he hasn’t faltered or slowed his movements at all. he kept eye contact and his heavy breath mixed with yours before he kissed you. it was needy and hungry and messy, full of inexperience and desperation.

you separate from his lips, attaching yours to his neck. you smirked at his moans, pushing him against the counter and motioning for him to sit on it. you place your hand over his and squeeze, a whine leaning his throat in response. you suck and nibble on the skin of his collarbone, hand traveling from his back to his hair, giving it a small tug.

he whimpers your name, “so loud, what if someone walks in, huh?” he squirms and you smirk at his reaction, picking your head up to look at him. swollen lips, dilated pupil, and that look that was begging for you.

"y/n!" carl gasps, your tug a bit harsher this time. the force led you to be in control of his head, and you lifted it so he would look into your eyes. he looked embarrassed, his pretty face painted with pink. "don't look at me like that.”

he attempts to get out of your grasp to no avail. he felt so small under your gaze, like a prey facing its predator. and he hates how turned on he was getting from it. he hates how despite everything he’s built up, the thought of finally getting taken care of is too fucking good to pass up.

he was lost in his head until he felt the cold air of his room hit his now bare cock. he whimpered at the feeling, glancing down to your eyes that were already set on his face. his cheeks once again returned to their pink hue that seemed to come around every time you did. he sucked in a sharp breath and let his head fall back when he felt your hand wrap around him, giving his cock a few strokes.

he felt bliss in that moment, eye screwed shut. but his moment was quickly ruined when a searing pain travel from his erection and up his body. he jerked forward, tears springing his eye as he looked down at the culprit. you just stared back at him with that innocent smile that kills him.

"why'd you do that?" he asked, lip trembling.

“you didn’t think i’d let you get away with being a dirty perv?” he blinks and you just start jerking him off once more at the lack of response.

he whines your name, shutting his eyes, snapping them open again when you slapped his cock for a second time. "stop!" he cries, his head falling back.

"you know, you look pitiful," you mutter, voice merely above a whisper as you slowly dragged your hand up and down his shaft. "nothing is tying you down or forcing you through this. you like it." carl rolls his eye at your accusation. he knew you were right, he just wasn't going to admit it.

you begin licking from the base of his cock to the tip. carl was a whining mess now, squirming on the countertop, trying his best to keep his eye on yours. you started to bob your head up and down, delicious noises escaping from the boy above you. you wanted to laugh at him, how desperately he wanted to close his eye, shy away from you.

you slide off him with a pop, "what's wrong, carl?" you ask innocently, the look on your face similar to your voice. he whimpered at the sight of you, your mouth so close to him while all you did was lazily jerk him off.

carl just pants, breath quickening when you went back to the task at hand. it took everything in him not to buck his hips up, because with your rules, he didn't know what would come to him if he did. your pace quickened when carl warned you of his approaching orgasm, whines, moans, and groans leaving his pretty pink lips. his stomach muscles would contract every now and then. finally he came, whimpers of your name falling from his lips as if it were the only word he knew.

you kept going until he pushed you away, "no, can't take anymore..." his voice was shaky, and he repeatedly took in breaths. he looked so pretty, shaking and panting. all because of you.

"well, what am i supposed to do then?" you fake pout, tilting your head teasingly. you stand up, taking off your shit and giggling at carl’s shameless gawking gaze. he adjusted in his seat, watching with amazement as you continued to strip in front of him. "shirt off," you instruct, the boy obeying immediately.

carl thought for a second before he opened his mouth, "sit here." his face was red as he moved, picking you up and placing you on the counter.

you quirk a brow at him, “what are you planning?” he opens his mouth to speak, but you’ve reduced him to something so small he can’t even force it out of him.

“i’ll show you.” his hands messily fiddle with your shorts, tugging them off of you. he attaches his lips to you immediately and you feel him groan into your pussy, the vibrations causing a moan to leave your lips. you couldn't help but move, slightly riding his face. he seemed to be enjoying it, his eyes closed.

you gripped at one of your breasts, then using one of carl’s hands to replace your own. you knew he was trying to jerk himself off secretly, failing miserably, but you decided not to interrupt him. after all his mouth was so good, albeit inexperienced it was him. and he was enjoying it as much as you were. if not more.

carl whimpers, mumbling the words ‘gonna cum’ into your cunt. "hold it," you command, combing your fingers through his hair, causing a moan to rip from his throat.

"can't!" carl’s eyes were screwed shut, nose scrunched up and lips forming an 'o' shape.

"you can, and you will. you're not incapable of such a simple task, carl," your voice was stern, the control you had over him driving him crazy. when you felt let yourself dangerously close, you gave carl permission. he was very loud, adorable moans of your name leaving his red and swollen lips, although muffled. his hands go to grip your thighs tightly when you cum on his tongue, afraid you were going to disappear if he hadn't kept you close.

he rests his head on your thigh, looking up at you with a small laugh. "thank you..." he trails off, his face was red, and his voice was very quiet. everything seemed awkward to him now. he stands up and you lean forward to give him another kiss, it was softer this time, a small moan from carl traveling to your mouth.

“you shouldn’t be thanking me for a punishment.”

carl shrugs, leaning his head on your shoulder. “got you to myself though now, didn’t i dixon?”

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