#outsider writes

[id-rather-be-an-outsider]

Possessive

Gojo Satoru x AFAB!Reader

summary: y/n (a non-sorcerer) tries to get away from Gojo, her controlling partner, but he only pulls her closer. no plot just smutty smut smut but I heard plotless is a pro and con in this context ;)

word count: 1,726

a/n: WOW it took me way too long to post this, but Happy New Year, all! if you want to be on my JJK or my Gojo taglist let me know!

tw: she/her reader, controlling behavior (this is toxic and is abuse IRL! this is only hot bc it’s imaginary), unprotected sex. creampie, fingering, p in v sex, oral f receiving, dubcon

masterlist

“Because I’m unhappy, Satoru! You never listen to me, and every time I’m angry you just throw money at me like that solves the problem! I deserve a real relationship, not one where I feel like I’m always talking to a brick wall and can never really make my own choices!” He’s quiet, that stupid smirk still on his face. Ugh. “I’m leaving.” I turn around to grab my keys, in a decorative bowl right behind me, and he’s there.

One of his long, coaxing hands slips around my neck, tilting my head back, and the other one snakes around my waist, pulling my body into his. His breathing in my ear sends a shiver all the way down my spine. “I’m sorry, baby. I never meant to make you feel unhappy.”

I try to pull away, reaching for my keys again. “It doesn’t matter, I’m done. Just let me go.” Instead of listening, he quickly grabs my arm, pinning it to my chest with his first hand, and reaching out to touch my keys. The second his finger makes contact with them, they disintegrate, and my stomach drops.

“You won’t need those. I promise, after tonight—“ He starts kissing my neck, sucking on my sensitive spot and leaving a hickey, causing me to gasp. “—You won’t ever want to leave again.“

“Gojo, st—“ He cuts me off by turning my head around to kiss me on the lips, reaching under my skirt to rub on my clitoris through my underwear. I break the kiss, trying to push him away. “Gojo— ngh!” I moan in surprise when I feel his fingers slide under my panties and dip into my folds, the sudden pleasure making me forget my exact situation. Gojo removes his blindfold, and I realize my mistake— I should’ve known he would do this.

Domain expansion. Before I know it, I’m being gripped by several of Gojo’s hands, his fractals of digits ripping my clothes to shreds within a mere second. Some arms are holding my arms down, some are holding my legs open, others are massaging my breasts, others are twisting my nipples, and a pair are squeezing my neck, the pressure slightly decreasing air flow and making me feel lightheaded. Gojo comes into view, towering above me. He removes his clothes and says, “If I wanted to make it easier, I would just let more hands do it, but I want you to know who’s making you feel this good.” He drops down to his knees, leaning over me. “Something I don’t tell other people about my abilities, specifically about the Unlimited Void, is that I can control what kinds of stimuli someone receives — I’m not limited to just everything or nothing.”

My eyes flutter, struggling against the hands at my throat — I’m not being suffocated, I just don’t feel in control of my body. He smiles cunningly, sliding his hand down my torso. None of the other hands have stopped their prodding and preening, and he can see my eyes reacting to the arousing behavior. He captures my lips in his, slithering his tongue into my mouth, and inserting a finger into my gummy walls. “Oh!” My exclamation is swallowed by his devouring mouth, and my back arches as he starts to pump his long finger in and out, curling it into my g-spot.

He seamlessly transitions into adding a second finger, and then a third, each eliciting louder moans from me. His palm is rubbing against my sensitive nub, and I feel the extra pressure with every pump of his hand. It feels so good. It feels so good. It feels so good! I moan, all the twisting and tweaking of my body coupled with his fingers filling me up brings me closer, closer, and closer to the edge, his hand slamming into me until—

I let out a sob when he pulls his hand out, licking all of my juice from his fingers as he stares into my eyes. My hole is clenching around the air, my cum drooling out. “You’re making a mess, sweetheart. Let me clean that up for you.” He grabs his member, giving it a few strong pumps, then uses his tip to wipe up my liquids, rubbing it against my slit. He presses his tip into my hole, waiting for the clenching to stop— “You can’t start too early, or you’ll be all worn out.” —Before finally pushing all the way in.

“Satoru!!!” I cry out, my walls squeezing around him when I feel his full length. “Baby, please!” But he won’t play nice. He moves in and out of me at an even pace, and every time I start spasming around him, he slows down to an almost painful pace, waiting for it to stop before gradually speeding back up again. I’m mewling, begging for him to give me my release, even trying to hump up into him, but he only pulls himself out of me, not letting me get to my orgasm.

He pauses, seemingly thinking to himself. “I wonder how close I can get you with my mouth?” He slides down to my pussy, nestling his face between my thighs. I can feel his breathing on me because of how close he is. His tongue darts in, drawing a circle around my rim before sliding in, poking and prodding in me as I struggle to rub my lips on his face. I find an angle that works, where my thrashing makes the tip of his nose rub on my clit. I can feel myself getting closer to my high, and I close my eyes, embracing all the different sensations I’m experiencing all at once, but my body betrays me when it starts shaking. Gojo laughs into my lips, the vibration almost pushing me over the edge, and he pulls his face away. “Did you think I didn’t know what you were doing? Silly girl.” I whine, trying to shake my lower half, but he’s nowhere near me, it seems. More hands grab my hips, holding me so I’m completely immobile. He tsks. “When I told you only I can ever make you cum, that included yourself and any scheming tricks you thought you could pull.”

I can’t see him because my head’s being pulled back, but I can feel him when his lips wrap around my bud and his tongue starts swirling around it. He sucks as he works, and I moan again, thinking that I’ll come undone for sure, it feels so good, if only he’d let me finish! He lets go with a loud pop of his lips, coming up to kiss me, my sheen coating his velvety petals like morning dew on a rose. I taste sweet and bitter in my own mouth, but I don’t have time to savor it as he fills me to the brim, and starts thrusting away. “Ah! Satoru, I’m close! Please tell me I can cum!” I beg him, my voice wavering from the overstimulation of my whole body, all my points of pleasure telling me I can never leave this man. He’s right. No one else will ever tear me apart in as sensual of a way as he does.

He hums, laughing as he pleasures himself inside of me, burying himself to the hilt, pulling far enough out that his tip becomes visible, then quickly burrowing all the way back in, over and over again. “Okay.” He picks up his pace, and the dam breaks — everything that had built up pours out, my orgasm flooding out each time he pushes himself into me, and my head’s spinning as I’m stuck bawling from how good it feels. My entire body is rigid and shaking, and Gojo’s still going, the other hands going crazy, all madly fondling every part of my body.

Tears sneak out of my ducts, and Gojo licks them up, smiling like the devil while his eyes bore into mine as he nears his own release. My pussy is still fluttering around his cock, and I haven’t stopped babbling about it being too much, too much, when I feel my reservoir filling up again. “Sa-to-ru-oh!” I manage, though I’m not sure what I’m even trying to say.

“Say you’ll stay,” He commands in a deep, smooth voice, and I melt beneath his piercing blue eyes, the sweat glistening on his skin, which feels sticky as his hips collide with mine, his balls slapping against my second hole, the fractal hands all reaching for the most sensitive spots and caressing them in just the right way.

“I’ll— I’ll stay!” I respond, incapable of thinking about what he’s asking of me, and his thrusts turn from measured to erratic. I feel his hips begin to stutter, the other hands all becoming even more aggressive if even possible, and the final push that takes me over the edge is feeling his length pumping out his seed inside me, making everything squeeze just a bit tighter. My rubber band snaps, and the other hands all disappear as my body spasms out of control, my back completely arched as my hips move to meet his of their own accord, his own continuing to pound into me until he has nothing else, and he stills, rubbing his hands up my naked body until he cups my face with both of them, kissing my lips, then looking at me with a hunger yet to be satiated reflecting from his eyes.

When my body finally calms, I eventually notice that we’re still in the living room. He scoops me up, and while he holds me I realize that he’s already hard again. “We’re not done yet, I hope you know. Remember now, my love, you said you would stay.” He takes me to our bedroom and sets me down in the middle of the bed, flipping me over so I’m on my hands and knees, and slapping my ass. “If you ever try to leave again I’ll give you so much pleasure that you’ll pray for me to stop it, and I won’t, because this is mine. You’re mine. Do you understand?” I nod my head weakly as I wobble on all fours, and gasp when he yanks my head back by my hair. “Oh, y/n, you’re my good girl.” He rams himself into me from behind.

taglist: @ekaterinatepes

[who-canceled-roger-rabbit]

Some spins on the "mostly male team with a token woman" trope:

The woman is trans and stayed in her old circle of bros even after transition

The woman is the only one in her circle of "girls" who didn't turn out to be a trans man

[ear-motif]

fanfic is so good bc the premise of some genres of fic are just inherently funny. I want these two grizzled crime drama protagonists to have some fucking fun for once, so they go to a water park. I dont care how i have to logic my way into them going there i dont care who has to drag them Theyre Going

[why-is-it-always-autumn]

Love a self-inflicted time loop. The main character isn’t trapped.  They can stop whenever they want.  But how can they when things aren’t perfect yet?  They can do better than this.  They need to try again.  They can get it right this time.  They just need to try again.  They can stop anytime they want.  Just one more time.  They can fix this. They just need to try again.  There are still things to fix.  They just need to try again.

[lazuliquetzalart]

Don't watch the coin, idiot!

the boss fight of ALL time

[kazieka]

one of the things i really like about sdv Elliott is that he apparently moved into town a solid year before you… specifically to write his book… and yet he still doesn’t even have a genre picked out. unreal. im wild about him. writer mood

[swordheld]

do the silly thing. if you do not do the silly thing time will pass and it will not be the same silly thing it could have been. it will still be silly, and it will still be yours, but it will not be the same. this is both a blessing and a curse, but so is living; and if you do not do it now when will you? who will? it has to be you, it was always meant for you, waiting for you.

[riality-check]

This is not how Wayne was expecting to come home from work.

He had expected, as usual, that Eddie would be asleep, and he’d be free to watch the 5:00 AM news. He’d have a bowl of cereal for dinner (or was it breakfast at that point?), and then he’d be out like a light while Eddie did whatever it was he did before noon. Usually, that was sleep.

The exact opposite of what Wayne was expecting is happening right now. 

He didn’t even get his keys out of his pocket before Eddie whips the door open. He looks a mess: hair tied back loosely, pajamas off kilter, panic mixed with exhaustion on his face.

“Oh, thank Christ,” he croaks. “Wayne, I need your help. I have no idea what to do.”

Wayne can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen Eddie panic like this. He shoulders past him into the trailer and is greeted with the sight of Steve Harrington standing in the middle of his living room.

“What on God’s green earth,” he murmurs. He blinks, then blinks again, but Harrington is still there, in pajamas, the tire iron Eddie still keeps under his bed in his hands. He’s breathing real heavy, and he stares out the window, stock-still.

“The hell happened?” Wayne asks, keeping his voice low.

“I don’t know,” Eddie whispers desperately. “I don’t know what happened, but he got up and grabbed the iron and just stood here-”

“How long?”

“Ten minutes, maybe.”

Wayne doesn’t like where this is going. “Has he responded to you at all?”

“No-”

Shit.

“-but I can try again?”

Wayne eyes the white-knuckled grip Harrington has on the tire iron. He’s ready to swing, and Wayne knows he’ll swing hard if given the chance.

No way he’s risking Eddie. No way he’s risking Harrington. Wayne doesn’t know him well, only met him a few times in passing, but he knows he’d never forgive himself if he hurt Eddie.

“No. Don’t try again.”

“I’m not leaving him.”

“Didn’t ask you to. All I’m saying is don’t go near.”

Eddie is very good at following instructions to the letter and to the letter only, much to Wayne’s fond annoyance. So, he doesn’t go near.

Instead, he says, voice strangely soft, “Stevie, sweetheart.”

Harrington doesn’t respond, but he turns a little in the direction of Eddie’s voice. Wayne takes that as a good sign, even if he can see the tension on his face now.

“Will you come back to sleep? Please?” Wayne hates hearing Eddie’s voice crack the way it is right now.

Harrington faces them a little better, and Wayne sees what he was expecting.

He’s staring through them, not at them. Wherever Harrington is, it sure ain’t here.

“I don’t know how much that’s gonna help, Eddie. He’s having-”

“I know he’s having a flashback, Wayne!” Eddie snaps. “I’m not stupid. It’s usually just not this bad, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Alright,” Wayne says because snapping back won’t help anyone. That and because he’s trying to process the fact that Eddie has had to deal with this before. “Let me try.”

He takes a few steps toward Harrington, keeping his hands up and his movements slow.

“Harrington,” he calls, keeping his tone light. “You’re at Eddie’s place right now. It’s almost five AM on a Friday night.”

Harrington blinks, and it looks like his eyes are coming back into focus.

“You’re safe right now. Eddie’s safe right now.”

Harrington shakes his head and lifts the tire iron a little higher. Christ, his arms must be aching by now. “No. I saw the lights flicker, and I heard a thud outside, and it got cold.”

“Stevie, the gate’s closed,” Eddie pleads. “You saw it happen. Nothing got out. You’re safe.”

Wayne doesn’t know what any of that means, but even though it was supposed to reassure Harrington, he just shakes his head again.

He hears Eddie sigh behind him, and he knows without turning around that he’s trying not to cry.

Guess he’s gotta try something different, then. “You just wake up?”

Harrington blinks, and for a minute, Wayne thinks this won’t get them anywhere. But then he whispers, just loud enough to be heard, “Yeah.”

“Okay. I just got off work.”

Harrington stares at him, confused.

“So, I think I’m a little more awake than you. I’ll take what you’ve got in your hands, and I can stay up.”

Harrington shakes his head. “It’s fine. I stay up most of the time when I’m alone.”

Alone. Wayne knows from experience, both personal and witnessing this shit, that alone is the last thing anyone should be when they’re having a flashback. Harrington says it like it’s the only thing he’s ever known.

He dismisses his questions - why is Harrington having flashbacks, why is he alone - and focuses on getting him to put down the tire iron and go to bed.

“You’re not alone this time,” Wayne says. “You’ve got Eddie here, too, and I think both of you would feel better if you were together.”

Harrington looks over Wayne’s shoulder. Wayne doesn’t turn around, but he can imagine the pleading look on Eddie’s face just fine.

Wayne holds out his hands for the tire iron, and after a minute, or maybe a month, Harrington sets it there. Immediately, he looks lighter and heavier.

Eddie walks up next to Wayne and murmurs, “Come on, sugar.”

Harrington goes to him and just rests his head on his shoulder. Eddie holds him there, just standing in the middle of the living room, sunrise just starting to peek in through the windows.

Thank you, he mouths to Wayne.

Wayne nods, but he’s got a hell of a lot more questions than answers - what the hell brought this on, what exactly is Harrington to Eddie. That can wait for morning, though.

For now, he just hopes Harrington will be okay by then.

No, not Harrington. Steve.

After something like this, Wayne has learned, you start using first names.

[inkskinned]

i know people are good because of this: the universe often assigns me side quests. in a circular strangeness; despite my inability to locate my-own-anything, i am almost-always finding someone else's lost things. dogs, coats, phones, cash, laptops. it happens so often it's almost tiring; suddenly being looped into a tiny amount of detective work.

but when i'm with other people who are not used to this: the response is almost invariably delight. yes, maybe they are simply thrilled by the mystery. it's just... they light up so much. i think maybe more... i think they like the opportunity to do something kind.

a few weeks ago, i was at a bar and i found a wallet as soon as we stepped outside. i felt nervous to ask for help, worried i would be holding up the night. i picked it up and said go on without me, i should help this get back to its home.

instead, three people pulled out their phones - to find him on facebook, to help cancel his credit cards. two people went back into the bar to tell the bartender, two others went calling down the street. group texts, facebook posts, instagram stories. people, without even seeing what happened, start offering help to me. fifteen minutes and: someone knows someone who knows the guy. the cheer that went up - just for finding him, just for this small thing. someone gets him on the phone. strangers dance around me, hopping on their feet - are you the girl that found that wallet? good for you, that's a good thing you're doing/same thing happened to me and somebody did what you're doing and i thank god everyday for people like you/i can't believe you found him so fast this is so exciting

i gave it back to him in a parking lot. i watched his shoulders sag with relief. there was cash in it still - he checked the pocket, and then sheepishly held the money out to me. i didn't take it. i held up my hands. "it's no problem, man. i know you'd do the same for me."

i don't know him, to be honest. i don't know if he is the same kind of person i am. but he nodded at me.

and i know people are good. i know people are good, because the way this story ends isn't surprising. we wave goodbye awkwardly. my friend loops their arm around me.

"i can't believe we got it back to him," they said. "i'm going to be riding that high for weeks."

[id-rather-be-an-outsider]

Fanboys SMAU Masterlist

summary: y/n is new to Jujutsu University, but she’s not unheard of – she’s an independent artist who went viral as a teen, and opted to try and keep her “normal” life, despite her world growing unimaginably in size. read on to find out how y/n navigates her new social circle and social status as a college student!

a/n: ahhh I’m so excited to start this project! I’ve decided that instead of waiting until I’m done with full stories to post them I’ll just post as needed, and the world has to deal with my inconsistent posting schedules because I am shameless and also Tumblr still gives me broken links, so hopefully I can still edit this :| also, comment below if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

the label • artist catalogue + bonus content

chapter 1: introductions . . . . . released Oct 7 2023

chapter 2: making friends . . . . . released Oct 16 2023

chapter 3: first flame . . . . . released Dec 14 2023

bonus chapter 3.5: tease . . . . . in progress

chapter 4: trust . . . . . in progress

chapter 5: revenge dress . . . . .

chapter 6: conquest . . . . .

bonus chapter 6.5: no title . . . . . 

chapter 7: power couple . . . . .

[destiel-wings]

this is dean directly speaking to us with the fanfiction writing power and living outside of the narrative he's trapped in, asking us to do what chuck and the cw don't allow him to have

[eviebane]

is writing gay smut on public transport socially acceptable? asking for a friend

[ohworm-writes]

Thinking about Firefighter!Price.

Imagine him coming home after a long, exhausting day of working, keys jingling as he unlocks the door at some ungodly hour of the night, footsteps falling heavy against the floor as he walks inside, exhaustion and fatigue lingering along his form.

He's still dressed in his station wear - a fitted, navy blue t-shirt with Station 141's logo printed onto the front of it, small, right on the right side of his chest, and a pair of trousers in the same color to match, hanging loosely onto him.

He should take a shower, he knows he should. He smells of sweat and sulfur, the scents clinging to his clothes and skin like a second skin, and he know that the two of you'll have to wash the bedding come morning.

But god, the sight of you in bed, dressed in a loose pair of your own shorts and one of his spare shirts, face smushed against one of the pillows as your breathing comes slow, in and out, steady - it's far too enticing to pass up so easily.

So he unbuckles his belt in a daze, stripping off his shirt, undershirt and trouser, tossing the articles haphazardly onto the floor (he tries to toss them towards the hamper, but he knows he misses, given the way his belt buckle clanks loudly against the hardwood floor of the bedroom, but, honestly, he could care less).

And he gets right into bed beside you, fingers grazing lightly over the exposed skin of your thighs, traversing upwards, fingers splayed as his palm travels over the fabric of your shorts, sneaking their way under the loose shirt of his that you wear, hand pressing against your tummy as he pulls you close.

He presses his nose into your shoulder, eyes fluttering closed as he deeply inhales the scent of your body wash, softly shushing you as you start to rouse, the way your body gently begins to shuffle as you let out the softest, sleepiest yawn, listening as he grumbles softly against your skin.

"Didn't mean to wake you, love. Go back to sleep."

His voice is so hoarse, so strained and rough from the events of the day - yelling and barking out commands to the firefighters within the ladder and engine crews that he guides - but, at the same time, it's runs smooth like honey, settling just right in your sleepy, hazy mind.

He hugs you tighter, pressing your back flush against his chest as he curls his body around you in a subtly protective manner, littering tender kisses against your neck, trying to coax you back to sleep as he lets out a soft sigh, infatuated with the way your body molds perfectly into his.

"Mmm... s'fine, John. Wha... what time s'it?"

"None of your business, that's what time. Go back to sleep. I'll be here in the mornin'... promise you that. Okay?"

He doesn't let you ask your questions. If you try to think, he knows you'll wake up, and he already feels guilty about waking you up in the first place, so he doesn't even entertain your sleepy question, giving you a promise - two, technically. That he's here now and that it'll stay that way until the two of you wake up in the dawn.

"Stubborn..."

"Always. We c'n talk in the mornin'. Sleep."

"Mmm... glad you're back home safe. Love you."

"Love you, too."

But by the time he says the words, you've already fallen back asleep, and a deep, rumbling chuckle erupts from within his chest, amused, pressing one last kiss to the corner of your jaw before letting himself fall asleep behind you, his breaths, his heartbeat falling into sync with your own.

[quizzicalwriter]

dally winston x virgin!reader who asks her boyfriend dally to be her first time

Sweet Thing

Pairing: Dallas Winston x Fem!Reader

Summary: Intimacy, intimacy, intimacy.

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Kissing, touching, fingering. Inexperienced and slightly innocent reader. Loss of virginity.

A/N: Thank you for the request!

Word Count: 2.8k (I got carried away.)

You’d always been Dallas’s favorite preoccupation, distracting him from everything else in life. The sweet thing he carted around whenever he hung around with the boys or found himself in the drunken den that was Buck’s on a Saturday night. You’d be there, propped on his lap with his arms wrapped securely around your waist.

Not that you didn’t have anything to say besides sitting there, hell, the guys loved you. You could hold your own when it came to their wit and it made you a worthy companion for Dallas in their eyes, not to mention your inexplicable ability to put up with his shit when nobody else had before - or seemingly nobody else had been given the chance.

Normally Dallas would’ve gone for girls at the drive-in, greaser girls, or any woman he could get his hands on or who could handle his banter for longer than a minute without giving him the back of their hand. You weren’t one of them, and frankly, that terrified Dallas. There was a part of him that wanted to pull away, push you away in hopes that he’d save himself the pain of heartbreak later on he’d convinced himself he’d suffer. But he always stopped himself whenever you found yourself in his arms, gazing up at him with your doe-like eyes.

It was a difficult thing, Dallas being intimate. He was born and raised in a constant battle for survival, not showing love or producing it, but you made it easy. The longer you two had been together the longer he found himself wanting to keep you close, protect you from dangers he seemed to see everywhere. The worries you once had about him leaving eventually faded, the look in his eyes as he gazed at you whenever you laid in his arms far outweighed any ill thoughts you’d suffered with.

The only way you could describe it was ardent, laced with a deep desire that you’d never seen before in his brown eyes. A deep desire that would show itself in the bounds of the night after the two of you had disappeared together, culminating in you on his lap in his bed, hips rocking together as he kissed along your throat and down onto your chest. Or with your legs wrapped loosely around his hips, him grinding into you, you whispering sweet moans into his mouth spurring him on to do more, touch you more, please you more.

Dallas never pushed, he was always understanding whenever you pulled away. Of course, he’d have to adjust himself in his jeans, but he’d quickly pull you to his chest and press delicate kisses along your face, murmuring how much you mean to him, something he didn’t dare do in front of others. That side of Dallas was for you, nobody else, so you treasured it whenever he showed it.

On one particular Saturday night in the midst of autumn, you found yourself propped up against Dallas’s side on one of the couches in Buck’s bar, legs bent up at your chest as you fiddled with frayed denim at the end of your pant leg. Dallas was in a debate with a random man, someone he seemed to know well enough to bullshit with, talking about how the two had snagged something good off a rich man’s car not too long ago.

If it hadn’t been for the incessant country music Buck played when it rounded two in the morning you’d likely have fallen asleep against Dallas, but the occasional jump of a new song kept you jerking awake, a tired pout situating itself on your features as you rested your cheek against Dallas’s shoulder.

“Looks like your miss is real tired.” The man stated, taking a long puff from his cigar before gesturing toward you with the end of it, a snicker following his words as he propped himself up against the end of his pool cue. Dallas quirked a brow, looking down at you where you were tucked into his side with a hidden smile.

“Guess she is.” He murmured, not saying anything more beyond that before moving to prop himself up straighter, hand smoothing down your back as he looked down at you. “Tired?”

You weren’t tired, tired. More so bored, the constant scent of smoke and alcohol wasn’t helping the boredom or the budding headache in the back of your skull. But knowing if you said anything other than ‘yes’ at that moment would result in another hour downstairs, you nodded, feigning a yawn as you let your eyes flutter deceptively.

Dallas caught on, but he didn’t say anything. Instead choosing to click his tongue against his teeth as he played along, shrugging as he moved to stand. “I’ll see you later, man.” He stated, causing the older man to shrug himself before dispersing off into the crowd. Dallas turned to you, helping you to your feet before leading you up the stairs.

“Lyin’ is a sin, y’know that right?” He chuckled out, quiet enough for only you to hear as he nudged open his bedroom door with the toe of his shoe, causing you to laugh yourself and avert your gaze from his as you moved into the familiar room.

“Didn’t lie.” You mumbled out, another pout crossing your lips as you kicked off your shoes, making your way to his bed. “Real tired, Dally.”

“Sure, doll.” He snickered from the corner of the room as you made yourself comfortable on the bed, the familiar metallic clang of his belt hitting the wooden floor echoing throughout the room soon after.

He moved beside you then, letting out a sigh as he wrapped his arms around your middle, pulling your back flush with his chest. The sound of country music and clattering pool balls still echoed from downstairs, but the only thing you could bring yourself to focus on was the feeling of Dallas’s knee between your legs.

It was an innocent move, both of you slept with your legs intertwined, it felt comfortable given how small his bed was. As he shifted to get more comfortable his knee pressed harder against your clothed cunt, causing your cheeks to flush red as you choked back a whine. Dallas stiffened, breath catching in his throat as he took a moment to gauge your reaction before moving his knee again.

“Dal-“ You whined, hand moving down in between your legs as you buried your face into the pillow you two shared, his scent lingering heavily on the fabric doing nothing to quell the growing ache between your legs.

“What, doll? Feel good?” He whispered, words ghosting across the nape of your neck, causing your back to arch involuntarily as you slowly nodded. His hand smoothed down your front, bumping over the fabric of your shirt and jeans as he slowly moved to cup your sex, ever so gently applying pressure as he rocked himself against you.

You felt yourself soaking your underwear with arousal the longer he rutted against you, his fingers pressing against your cunt through your jeans as he did. A familiar sensation bloomed in your lower stomach, one that left you clenching your thighs around his palm as you tried to quell the growing ache.

“Gotta tell me what you want.” He whispered against the shell of your ear, trailing a litany of open-mouthed kisses along the curvature of your throat, pressure from his fingers increasing against your cunt. “Need to hear you say it.”

“Fuck, Dallas, just fuck me.” You whined, embarrassment over the prospect of voicing your needs soon being overweighed by the sheer need you felt for him, your hand moved to grasp at his forearm as you begged. “Please, Dal.”

That seemed to be all he needed as he moved to sit up on his knees, pressing another kiss to your jaw before pulling his shirt up and over his head. You laid there, lips parted as you watched him undress, feeling your blush spread from your cheeks to the top of your chest. You wanted to touch him, feel him, kiss him - so you did. You moved to sit up, folding your legs underneath yourself as you moved to press a kiss to his lips, hands moving to cup his jaw, only pulling away when you felt that familiar pull to touch him elsewhere.

You’d seen him without a shirt, but you’d never truly been able to admire him until now. Your hands wavered over his body, fingertips dipping in between the rivets of his toned skin, along healed scars, a faint bruise that still lingered under the left side of his ribcage. Above it all you found yourself fascinated with the way his chest rose with each breath and the small freckles that lined his skin. They reminded you of the ones he’d gotten from his time in the sun that plastered themselves against his cheekbones and upper shoulders.

Dallas let you look, eyes fluttering whenever your hands would drift farther south than before. You could hear him taking in shuddering breaths, chest catching every few minutes as though he were teetering on the edge of self-control. He raised his hands then, looking to you for approval before he lifted your shirt up and over your head, bundling the soft fabric in his hands before letting it fall to the floor.

You reached your hands behind yourself, unclasping your bra, letting the straps fall down your shoulders until your bra collapsed into your lap, exposing your breasts to him. Dallas had seen women before, he’d seen plenty, but none of them had ever had the effect you currently had on him. He felt his throat dry, brown eyes flickering between your chest and your eyes before he moved to gently lay you back against his bed, situating himself over top of you.

“You want this?” His words were hushed as his hand drifted down over your bare stomach, slowly unbuttoning your jeans as he kept his gaze locked on your face, watching for any sign of discomfort or worry. When you responded with a nod and a quiet, “I want this.” He smiled, a soft laugh leaving him as he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips.

You’d envisioned losing your virginity hundreds of times, a perfect encapsulation of what sex had to be painted in your mind, vivid and blaring. But this was so different, the way Dallas was so gentle, not afraid to laugh if something awkward happened, both of you sharing the pure moment of intimacy with smiles on your face. Nothing could’ve ever prepared you for it and that somehow made it all so much better.

As he slid your jeans off your legs he smiled up at you, a soft look on his face as he tossed the denim to the floor, moving back up to place another languid kiss to your lips. His hand moved between your thighs, fingers splaying against your cunt through your underwear, a groan passing his lips when he felt just how wet you’d become.

“Dallas, please-“ You begged, thighs trembling as he continued to tease you through your underwear. He relented, placing a gentle kiss to your jaw before moving to sit back up, slowly sliding your underwear down and off your body before discarding them to the floor as well.

“So beautiful.” He murmured, eyes wandering over your form laid in front of him, hands smoothing up and down your sides as he took it all in. “So fuckin’ beautiful, doll.”

You watched with bated breath as he slipped his jeans off, kicking his boxers off along with them. His length was bigger than you’d anticipated, only having felt the shape of it when you’d ground down against him during your frequent make-out sessions. As if sensing your apprehension he moved back over you, hand moving to cup your cheek as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“It won’t hurt, alright? We’ll take it slow, real slow.” He whispered, voice soothing as he helped you to wrap your legs around his hips, your heels subtly digging into the flesh of his lower back. He smiled down at you, eyes voicing a silent question if you were alright to which you quickly nodded back, a smile upon your face as well.

He braced himself on his arm, face close to yours as he slid a hand down between you, helping to guide himself inside before sliding his fingers up to slowly circle your clit. A moan left you at the feeling, leaving you clenching around his tip, the feeling causing him to bite back a grunt as he slowly began pushing in.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He groaned out, brows screwing together as he pushed himself to the hilt inside of your welcoming cunt, pausing in his movements to give you a chance to grow used to the feeling. “Doin’ so good, baby, so good.”

You’d heard horror stories from your friends, tales of how their first time had been painful and rushed, but this felt the complete opposite. While it took you a moment to grow used to the feeling of him inside of you, it was an incredibly welcome feeling. You could feel yourself clenching down around him, his fingers circling your clit only adding to the feeling building in your stomach.

“Dal- Dal, move.” You whispered out, voice hoarse as you grasped at his shoulders, desperate for him to move. He snickered at your pleading tone, slowly pulling himself out before pushing back in, slowly and deeply fucking you as he whispered words of praise into the crook of your neck, pressing kisses against your damp skin whenever he couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of your warmth surrounding him.

You could hear your wetness coating his cock with each thrust of his hips, his fingers slick against your clit. The room was filled with the sound of skin meeting skin, broken-off moans, and whispered words. Your thighs tightened against him as he adjusted himself, lifting himself a bit, unknowingly brushing against a spot within you that you’d never known existed - one that pulled a drawn-out moan from your chest.

“Yeah?” He asked through a smirk, hand moving down to cup your hip as he pushed back into you, hitting that very same spot. You could hardly think, let alone breathe as he fucked himself into you, fingers working at your clit as he angled himself to hit that spot over, and over. “Taking me so good, doll.” He grunted out, grip tightening on your hip as he picked up his pace.

Your hand shot down to his wrist as he continued toying with your clit, eyes fluttering shut as you felt your orgasm building to its peak in your lower stomach, the feeling causing you to rock your hips in tandem with his thrusts. The look on your face was enough to make him groan, his hand moving from your hip to your jaw as he tilted your face to look at him.

“Look at me when you cum on my cock, baby.” He murmured, voice soft yet authoritative as he slammed into you. As soon as you opened your eyes he moved his hand, pressing it against your lower stomach as he continued fucking himself into you. It felt as though he were pushing you down onto him, that spot that nearly blinded you with pleasure constantly being rutted against by his cock.

All you could muster was a weak, “F-fuck,” as you came undone, back arching off the bed as you whined out his name. He didn’t stop, stifling a groan at the way you writhed beneath him as he felt his orgasm building. Once you started swatting at his fingers that still circled your clit he moved his hand, choosing to grab the other side of your hip, effectively propping you up against him as he fucked you.

The pace was near brutal, moans forced from your body as your breasts bounced with each thrust. You couldn’t focus, still reeling from your last orgasm as he continued fucking you into oversensitivity-fueled bliss. You could feel his thumbs pressing into your hipbones, short curses slipping past his lips.

“Gonna cum, baby.” He grunted, pulling out of you a second later, spilling his cum across your lower stomach. His chest heaved, cheeks flushed red as he pumped himself through his orgasm. You could only watch in a haze of your own, still catching your breath as he looked up at you, that familiar crooked smile taking over his features as he moved on top of you once more.

“Did so good, doll. Real good.” He murmured against your cheek, pressing a kiss to your skin between each sentence. “You feel alright? Need me to get you something?” He asked after a moment, a hint of concern evident in his tone that made you smile as you shook your head.

“It felt perfect, Dal. I’m alright.” You whispered back, turning over onto your side to face him, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek, leaning up after to press a kiss to his waiting lips. “Perfect.”

A/N: Thank you for reading if you made it this far, or even if you just skimmed it over - either way I appreciate the interactions! As always you can find my work over on my ao3 under the user “Unscriptural.” Thank you anon for the request! (Sorry for the late posting, or early? Wherever you are? I finished editing it and didn’t want to queue it, so here is your daily scheduled reading material.)

[ceilidho]

gaz is the kind of guy that when he gets back from leave and soap's like "oh i saw my nan and hung out with friends" and price's like "spent time with the wife and kids" gaz is like. oh i was in ibiza with ke$ha for a week. visited Machu Picchu. had dinner at a restaurant inside a volcano in Iceland. Met the prime minister of New Zealand.

and everyone’s just staring at him like huh

[booperbeanv3]

drawstuck #4: june edition

alt june shirt under cut

i jst thought it would be cute