⭑do you know what an orgasm is? rip wheeler x dutton!reader +18
summary: when the youngest Dutton crosses a line she didn't mean to, Rip Wheeler becomes the one man who sees the truth she’s afraid to face—and shows her exactly what she’s been missing.
warnings: mature content ahead — 18+ only, minors do not interact. age gap, fingering, swearing, masturbation, if i'm missing something lmk.
author's note: i'm a sucker for dutton!reader so expect a lot more of that from me. i'm currently writing a ryan x dutton!reader shot lmk if you want to read that too ;)
english is not my first language
The ranch never truly slept.
That was something you’d learned growing up as John Dutton’s youngest daughter—wind in the grass, horses shifting their weight, the low creak of old wood breathing with the night. You’d always loved it. Tonight, though, the silence felt heavier. Too loud.
Rip had been doing his usual night round before heading to bed, boots crunching softly against gravel, the brim of his hat low over his eyes. He wasn’t expecting anything out of the ordinary. The Yellowstone had a way of lulling you into routine—until it didn’t.
That’s when he heard it.
Soft, broken breaths. A sound that didn’t belong to the wind or the animals.
He stopped mid-step.
The stable doors were cracked open, warm light spilling out into the dark. Rip frowned, instincts sharpening as he approached. Then he heard it again—closer this time. A shaky exhale that curled low in his gut before he could stop it.
When he pushed the door open, the sight hit him like a punch to the chest.
You were there.
Leaning against one of the stalls, skirt bunched up around your hips, one hand buried between your thighs. Your forehead glistened with sweat, cheeks flushed a deep raspberry, lips parted like you were caught mid-prayer. Your eyes were closed—so lost in whatever you were chasing that you didn’t notice him at first.
You would never admit—wouldn’t dare—that this had been your intention when you walked into the stable. But earlier, passing by the bunkhouse, you'd overheard the cowboys laughing, joking, talking too freely about women and release and things a lady didn’t usually let herself think about for long.
Frustration had a way of steering you by the hand.
And somehow, without even realizing it, you’d ended up here—hand under your skirt, panties pushed aside, trying to quiet a heat you didn’t fully understand yet.
It took you a few seconds to realize you weren’t alone.
Rip was sure his throat closed up entirely, because when the words finally came out, he didn’t remember deciding to say them.
“I—sorry. I didn’t know.”
His rough voice startled a sound out of you, sharp and breathless. You yanked your hand away from yourself faster than a rooster at dawn.
“Rip! Oh God— I’m sorry, I—” You stumbled over the words, heat rushing to your face as panic set in.
Rip had already turned his back to you, jaw clenched, trying like hell to scrub the image of you touching yourself from his mind before his body betrayed him inside his jeans.
“I shouldn’t stay” he muttered. “It’s alright. I’ll pretend this never happened. You don’t need to be embarrassed.”
He stayed facing away from you, shoulders tense beneath his black shirt, muscles tight like he was bracing for impact.
“Don’t go. Please, wait.”
“I really don’t think I should,” he said quietly.
“Rip, wait. I need to ask you something. It’s important.”
He swallowed hard. “You’re gonna kill me... or get me killed” he muttered, unsure if he meant it for you or for himself.
When he finally turned around, his breath caught. Your cheeks were still flushed, eyes wide now, lips swollen. The image from moments ago replayed in his head whether he wanted it to or not.
“Can’t you ask someone else?” he asked, voice strained.
“Absolutely not. I can’t ask my brothers, and I definitely don’t want to ask my sister.” You hesitated, then just said it. “Do you actually know what an orgasm is?”
The word landed between you like a live wire.
“Not a fake one,” you added quickly. “A real one. Do you know how to tell the difference?”
Rip wanted to turn around and walk straight to his bed—he just didn’t know if it would be to sleep or to deal with the hard knot forming in his pants. He swallowed thickly, trying to figure out if you were serious or pulling some cruel joke.
You’d always been curious. Honest to a fault. But he’d never imagined standing in front of you while you asked him what the hell an orgasm was, cheeks still hot, fingers probably still slick with your own want.
You were definitely trying to kill him.
“What?” was all he managed.
“I’ve only been with one man,” you admitted softly. “And I never felt that rush everyone talks about.”
You squared your shoulders, drawing courage from somewhere deep inside you. You trusted Rip—maybe too much. He was a cowboy through and through. If anyone would know, it would be him.
“And you don’t feel it when you touch yourself?” he asked, voice lower now.
“It feels better than when someone else does,” you said honestly. “But I still don’t get there. I get so close, and then… nothing.”
“I see…” Rip murmured.
Without fully realizing it, he took a step closer. At this point, he was far too interested to pretend otherwise.
“Maybe I can’t,” you whispered. “Maybe she is broken.”
He shook his head immediately. “Sweetheart, I don’t think she's broken. I think no one’s ever known how to take care of her.”
Your breath hitched.
“And what if you tried?” you asked, eyes locked on his. “You don’t have to use your dick. You could use your fingers. Looks like you’ve got very capable hands, cowboy.”
Rip’s hand tightened at his side. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything, only looked at you—the way the light caught the edge of your face, the way vulnerability softened your words.
“Don’t say things like that,” he murmured eventually, voice low but steady. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
You didn’t move, didn’t back away. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me,” you said quietly. “That’s why I asked you.”
Something in Rip’s expression shifted—an echo of pain, maybe, or restraint. He stepped closer, slow enough that the air between you seemed to stretch thin. His presence filled the small space like heat.
“I’m not the man you ask for something like that,” he said. “You think I’ve got control, but it’s not the kind you’re asking for. If I touch you now, I won’t be able to stop.”
“I trust you,” you whispered.
Rip was so close now that your breaths tangled between you. He smelled like pine, masculine cologne, and old wood—just that was enough to make a slick warmth gather between your thighs.
All you had to do was look up at him through your lashes, and something inside him snapped.
His gaze darkened, jaw tightening as his rough hands dug into your hips, gripping hard enough that you were sure his fingerprints would bloom there later, bruised and unmistakable.
“Rip… please.”
“You’re so damn pretty,” he muttered, voice low and dangerous, “already begging for something you don’t even know if you can handle. You’re gonna have to hold onto my shoulders so you don’t fall apart, ‘cause nobody’s ever made your legs shake before.”
His hand slid from your hip to the space between your thighs, forcing them apart with a practiced motion. He found your heat easily—too easily. You were ready for him, like you’d given yourself over before he even touched you. Panties soaked and shoved aside, your center wet and pulsing, aching for his attention.
He pushed one finger in, slow and deliberate, just to confirm what he already knew.
When he pulled it back out, a breath tore from your chest—you didn’t want him to leave you empty. What he did instead was almost worse. He lifted his hand, holding his finger up between you, glistening with your arousal.
“Look at you,” he said quietly. “Definitely not broken.”
Before you could answer, he brought his fingers to his mouth, lips closing around them with a low hum. “Mmm… and so sweet, too.”
“Please,” you breathed. “Give it to me.”
“What is it you want?” he asked, eyes locked on yours. “You wanna know what an orgasm feels like? Ask for it, sweetheart. It’s yours.”
“I want you to make me cum, Rip,” you said without flinching. “So hard you ruin my pussy for any other man.”
He let out a dark chuckle. “You kiss your daddy with that mouth?”
“Fuck, Rip.”
He didn’t need any more instructions.
His hand dragged slowly along your slit, teasing until your whole body trembled. Then, when you were shaking and sensitive, he pushed his fingers back inside you. One at first—and when your moans turned desperate, he added a second without warning.
Rip had been right.
No one had ever known how to take care of you before.
What he was doing with his fingers—no one had ever made you feel anything like it. Not even your stupid ex boyfriend with his sad excuse for a cock. Rip was a real man, and if he could do this to you with just his hands, you couldn’t even imagine what he’d do if he fucked you right there.
“Oh my God,” you gasped. “What are you doing to me?”
“Giving you the attention you deserve, princess.”
There were no words for what built inside you. All you could do was grab onto his thick arms and moan his name against his ear.
And then it happened.
The feeling tore through you from head to toe—electric, overwhelming—coiling hot and tight in your lower belly. As if that wasn’t enough, the hand that had claimed your throat joined the other, his fingers never slowing inside you while his thumb found your swollen clit, pressing and circling until you cried out and stars burst behind your eyes.
“Fuck, Rip!”
“Now that,” he said, voice steady and sure, “is an orgasm, sweetheart.”
It hadn’t been romantic—not really—but all you could do was cup his face and pull him down into a kiss, gratitude pouring into it. His fingers were still inside you, and you weren’t sure you wanted them gone, not while your legs still shook like paper.
When he finally pulled them free, he brought them to both your mouths, making you taste yourself along with him, tongues brushing and tangling as you shared it.
For all sakes. Rip Wheeler really did know how to please a woman.
⭑do you know what an orgasm is? rip wheeler x dutton!reader +18
summary: when the youngest Dutton crosses a line she didn't mean to, Rip Wheeler becomes the one man who sees the truth she’s afraid to face—and shows her exactly what she’s been missing.
warnings: mature content ahead — 18+ only, minors do not interact. age gap, fingering, swearing, masturbation, if i'm missing something lmk.
author's note: i'm a sucker for dutton!reader so expect a lot more of that from me. i'm currently writing a ryan x dutton!reader shot lmk if you want to read that too ;)
english is not my first language
The ranch never truly slept.
That was something you’d learned growing up as John Dutton’s youngest daughter—wind in the grass, horses shifting their weight, the low creak of old wood breathing with the night. You’d always loved it. Tonight, though, the silence felt heavier. Too loud.
Rip had been doing his usual night round before heading to bed, boots crunching softly against gravel, the brim of his hat low over his eyes. He wasn’t expecting anything out of the ordinary. The Yellowstone had a way of lulling you into routine—until it didn’t.
That’s when he heard it.
Soft, broken breaths. A sound that didn’t belong to the wind or the animals.
He stopped mid-step.
The stable doors were cracked open, warm light spilling out into the dark. Rip frowned, instincts sharpening as he approached. Then he heard it again—closer this time. A shaky exhale that curled low in his gut before he could stop it.
When he pushed the door open, the sight hit him like a punch to the chest.
You were there.
Leaning against one of the stalls, skirt bunched up around your hips, one hand buried between your thighs. Your forehead glistened with sweat, cheeks flushed a deep raspberry, lips parted like you were caught mid-prayer. Your eyes were closed—so lost in whatever you were chasing that you didn’t notice him at first.
You would never admit—wouldn’t dare—that this had been your intention when you walked into the stable. But earlier, passing by the bunkhouse, you'd overheard the cowboys laughing, joking, talking too freely about women and release and things a lady didn’t usually let herself think about for long.
Frustration had a way of steering you by the hand.
And somehow, without even realizing it, you’d ended up here—hand under your skirt, panties pushed aside, trying to quiet a heat you didn’t fully understand yet.
It took you a few seconds to realize you weren’t alone.
Rip was sure his throat closed up entirely, because when the words finally came out, he didn’t remember deciding to say them.
“I—sorry. I didn’t know.”
His rough voice startled a sound out of you, sharp and breathless. You yanked your hand away from yourself faster than a rooster at dawn.
“Rip! Oh God— I’m sorry, I—” You stumbled over the words, heat rushing to your face as panic set in.
Rip had already turned his back to you, jaw clenched, trying like hell to scrub the image of you touching yourself from his mind before his body betrayed him inside his jeans.
“I shouldn’t stay” he muttered. “It’s alright. I’ll pretend this never happened. You don’t need to be embarrassed.”
He stayed facing away from you, shoulders tense beneath his black shirt, muscles tight like he was bracing for impact.
“Don’t go. Please, wait.”
“I really don’t think I should,” he said quietly.
“Rip, wait. I need to ask you something. It’s important.”
He swallowed hard. “You’re gonna kill me... or get me killed” he muttered, unsure if he meant it for you or for himself.
When he finally turned around, his breath caught. Your cheeks were still flushed, eyes wide now, lips swollen. The image from moments ago replayed in his head whether he wanted it to or not.
“Can’t you ask someone else?” he asked, voice strained.
“Absolutely not. I can’t ask my brothers, and I definitely don’t want to ask my sister.” You hesitated, then just said it. “Do you actually know what an orgasm is?”
The word landed between you like a live wire.
“Not a fake one,” you added quickly. “A real one. Do you know how to tell the difference?”
Rip wanted to turn around and walk straight to his bed—he just didn’t know if it would be to sleep or to deal with the hard knot forming in his pants. He swallowed thickly, trying to figure out if you were serious or pulling some cruel joke.
You’d always been curious. Honest to a fault. But he’d never imagined standing in front of you while you asked him what the hell an orgasm was, cheeks still hot, fingers probably still slick with your own want.
You were definitely trying to kill him.
“What?” was all he managed.
“I’ve only been with one man,” you admitted softly. “And I never felt that rush everyone talks about.”
You squared your shoulders, drawing courage from somewhere deep inside you. You trusted Rip—maybe too much. He was a cowboy through and through. If anyone would know, it would be him.
“And you don’t feel it when you touch yourself?” he asked, voice lower now.
“It feels better than when someone else does,” you said honestly. “But I still don’t get there. I get so close, and then… nothing.”
“I see…” Rip murmured.
Without fully realizing it, he took a step closer. At this point, he was far too interested to pretend otherwise.
“Maybe I can’t,” you whispered. “Maybe she is broken.”
He shook his head immediately. “Sweetheart, I don’t think she's broken. I think no one’s ever known how to take care of her.”
Your breath hitched.
“And what if you tried?” you asked, eyes locked on his. “You don’t have to use your dick. You could use your fingers. Looks like you’ve got very capable hands, cowboy.”
Rip’s hand tightened at his side. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything, only looked at you—the way the light caught the edge of your face, the way vulnerability softened your words.
“Don’t say things like that,” he murmured eventually, voice low but steady. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
You didn’t move, didn’t back away. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me,” you said quietly. “That’s why I asked you.”
Something in Rip’s expression shifted—an echo of pain, maybe, or restraint. He stepped closer, slow enough that the air between you seemed to stretch thin. His presence filled the small space like heat.
“I’m not the man you ask for something like that,” he said. “You think I’ve got control, but it’s not the kind you’re asking for. If I touch you now, I won’t be able to stop.”
“I trust you,” you whispered.
Rip was so close now that your breaths tangled between you. He smelled like pine, masculine cologne, and old wood—just that was enough to make a slick warmth gather between your thighs.
All you had to do was look up at him through your lashes, and something inside him snapped.
His gaze darkened, jaw tightening as his rough hands dug into your hips, gripping hard enough that you were sure his fingerprints would bloom there later, bruised and unmistakable.
“Rip… please.”
“You’re so damn pretty,” he muttered, voice low and dangerous, “already begging for something you don’t even know if you can handle. You’re gonna have to hold onto my shoulders so you don’t fall apart, ‘cause nobody’s ever made your legs shake before.”
His hand slid from your hip to the space between your thighs, forcing them apart with a practiced motion. He found your heat easily—too easily. You were ready for him, like you’d given yourself over before he even touched you. Panties soaked and shoved aside, your center wet and pulsing, aching for his attention.
He pushed one finger in, slow and deliberate, just to confirm what he already knew.
When he pulled it back out, a breath tore from your chest—you didn’t want him to leave you empty. What he did instead was almost worse. He lifted his hand, holding his finger up between you, glistening with your arousal.
“Look at you,” he said quietly. “Definitely not broken.”
Before you could answer, he brought his fingers to his mouth, lips closing around them with a low hum. “Mmm… and so sweet, too.”
“Please,” you breathed. “Give it to me.”
“What is it you want?” he asked, eyes locked on yours. “You wanna know what an orgasm feels like? Ask for it, sweetheart. It’s yours.”
“I want you to make me cum, Rip,” you said without flinching. “So hard you ruin my pussy for any other man.”
He let out a dark chuckle. “You kiss your daddy with that mouth?”
“Fuck, Rip.”
He didn’t need any more instructions.
His hand dragged slowly along your slit, teasing until your whole body trembled. Then, when you were shaking and sensitive, he pushed his fingers back inside you. One at first—and when your moans turned desperate, he added a second without warning.
Rip had been right.
No one had ever known how to take care of you before.
What he was doing with his fingers—no one had ever made you feel anything like it. Not even your stupid ex boyfriend with his sad excuse for a cock. Rip was a real man, and if he could do this to you with just his hands, you couldn’t even imagine what he’d do if he fucked you right there.
“Oh my God,” you gasped. “What are you doing to me?”
“Giving you the attention you deserve, princess.”
There were no words for what built inside you. All you could do was grab onto his thick arms and moan his name against his ear.
And then it happened.
The feeling tore through you from head to toe—electric, overwhelming—coiling hot and tight in your lower belly. As if that wasn’t enough, the hand that had claimed your throat joined the other, his fingers never slowing inside you while his thumb found your swollen clit, pressing and circling until you cried out and stars burst behind your eyes.
“Fuck, Rip!”
“Now that,” he said, voice steady and sure, “is an orgasm, sweetheart.”
It hadn’t been romantic—not really—but all you could do was cup his face and pull him down into a kiss, gratitude pouring into it. His fingers were still inside you, and you weren’t sure you wanted them gone, not while your legs still shook like paper.
When he finally pulled them free, he brought them to both your mouths, making you taste yourself along with him, tongues brushing and tangling as you shared it.
For all sakes. Rip Wheeler really did know how to please a woman.
click [ HERE ] or in the source link for #150 gifs [700x700] of ANA DE ARMAS as Melinda Van Allen in Deep Water. all the gifs have been created from scratch by me so don't repost in other hunts or claim as your own. if you want to edit, don't forget my credit [arkhan]. like or reblog would be greatly appreciated if you found this useful. ♡
all the times the public thought the two of you were dating, and the one time they knew.
love at first sight | @totalswag
behind the scenes | @/totalswag
having a close relationship with drew that send hints to fans they like each other based on the way they flirt with each other.
Drew Starkey’s Masterlist | @cameronspecial
Something Better | @/cameronspecial
Good Terms With The In-Laws | @/cameronspecial
Behind the scenes | @aaronhotchswife
You and Drew catches feeling while filming a love scene
Blushing Boy | @probably-writing-x
There were few things that made Drew Starkey lose his confidence, in fact, perhaps only one could truly ever do it; you. He didn’t know how, or why, but you just seemed to have that goddamn effect on him.
Hellraiser, part 2 | @winterrrnight
an instagram blurb about drew and his co-star y/n and dating allegations
little things you do | @isasoff
Drew being a loving boyfriend to the reader.
all of the girls you loved before | @maybankslover
Wanna make another one? | @cherryobx
you and Drew had a son a few months into the relationship, here’s what happens when has to leave for a few days
Off Camera | @notsonian
you're a little nervous for your upcoming sex scene with your boyfriend
drew starkey x actress!reader masterlist | @crushpunky
drew and actress!reader test how well they know each other | @/crushpunky
venice film festival | @/crushpunky
actress!reader supports drew at his premiere | @/crushpunky
Surprise!, pt 2 | @simpforboys
ever since the reader started blowing up, all the interviews and promotions that would ask her who her celebrity crush is, she always had the same answer. so when Jimmy Fallon invites her on his show, he might have a surprise in store…
ACTORS ON ACTORS ! | @goldsainz
drew and you participate in variety’s “actors on actors” series.
𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 | @rafedarling
four months into your second pregnancy, morning sickness hits harder than you ever expected. with drew’s unwavering support and rustyn’s adorable attempts to cheer you up, you realize that even in the most exhausting moments, your family’s love makes everything better.
𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 | @/rafedarling
new parents and beloved hollywood couple drew and you take to the jimmy kimmel live stage to discuss your latest movie project together, which releases in may. between balancing new parenthood and demanding film schedules, you two finds yourself sharing a funny, heartfelt stories about life on set with their baby girl, emma starkey. a viral behind-the-scenes video brings laughter to the show, as you discuss how parenting has influenced your lives and careers. based on today drew interview on jimmy kimmel live interview.
𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐲 | @/rafedarling
your due day has finally come for you and drew to meet your little one. as labor unfolds, drew proves to be the most supportive partner, balancing his nerves with humor, tenderness, and unwavering love.
Bf!drew and actress!reader | @seasprincess
Mistletoe | @chleem
In which your secret relationship with drew gets exposed due to a quick kiss beneath the mistletoe.
Close to you | @/chleem
after a night out, drew comes home seeking comfort in your warmth.
Mr & Mrs Starkey | @/chleem
In which your 5 year-old son catches you kissing santa claus, oblivious to the fact that it’s just drew under the costume.
LIVE TALK SHOW | @smokingsoothesthesoul
drew’s first time on a talk show, which just so happens to be jimmy fallon’s and he’s known for scheming. he surprises drew starkey with his celebrity crush. which just so happens to be you.
Co-Star Confessions | @poguehearted77
A lie detector, a dark room, and unspoken tension pull you into a whirlwind of revelations, where secrets are spilled, emotions run high, and your growing romance with Drew becomes impossible to hide.
a night to remember | @sainzclerc
during a cast celebration for Outer Banks at a rooftop bar in Charleston, Drew overhears his best friend expressing her feelings for him.
THE PRANK THAT BACKFIRED (sort of?) | @bettys-redwinesupernova
reader and drew decide to play a prank on the obx cast for her youtube channel. they do the “asking to have another girl over” prank, which results in a very angry obx cast who are out to get drew
Together | @xxbirkindoll
we listen and we don’t judge | @willowpains
Actors on Actors | @rafecameronssl4t
Actress!reader and Drew partaking in Variety's Actors on Actors!!
What’s in My Bag Interview | @/rafecameronssl4t
Reader partaking in Refinery29’s What’s In My Bag interview
Rick Grimes x F!Reader x Daryl Dixon Smut: And There was only One Bed
Warnings/Mentions: Smut, unprotected sex, jealous Rick, awkward inexperienced Daryl, dry humping, spooning sex, oral, handjobs (Daryl receiving), staying quiet/fear of being caught, Daryl pretending to be asleep
Summary: Rick, Daryl, and reader get caught out on a storm and take shelter in a small cabin. They're stuck there for the night, and you'll never guess what happens next. THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED
Notes: God this is so hot I don't care that the morals are questionable!!!! I need it more than anything I've ever needed before thank you for requesting anon
Being squished between a snoring Daryl and Rick's hard-on was not how you imagined your night going when you set out that morning.
It was supposed to be a cut and dry intel run. Scope out the new group nearby, learn a few things, maybe grab some supplies on your way back, but no, it's never that easy.
First off, you couldn't find the group. Aaron claimed they were composed of maybe forty people living in the nearby school, but the place was quiet when you'd checked it out.
Then, Rick's truck broke down. Dead battery. Daryl set out looking for one with enough juice to get you home when the first signs of a storm rolled in. Angry dark clouds and cold fat raindrops.
The only place nearby in walking distance was down a long gravel road. It was the smallest, but also the cutest, cabin you'd ever laid eyes on. It only had three rooms, one bedroom with a bathroom, and a large open living area that held a tiny kitchen and a couch with a fireplace.
“Get those windows boarded up.”
Rick was quick to spew out commands after the three of you busted through the front door, all wet and shivering. The wind was so strong it slammed the door closed behind you, blowing the curtains and causing stray paper to fly off their tables.
“Can't!” Daryl shouted. He stood behind you shielding his face from the rain shooting through the broken windows.
That's how you ended up in the bedroom. You sat shivering on the foot of the bed as Rick went through the dresser, looking for clothes to replace the soaking fabric you all wore.
Daryl slid the bedroom vanity in front of the door. He even went as far as to set the armchair on top of it.
“Can we just wait it out?” Your teeth clattered together as Rick tossed you a towel from the closet. You ruffled it in your hair and watched Daryl.
He was standing in front of the only window in the room, his arms crossed and his thumbnail between his teeth.
“Yeah, should ease up soon.” Rick sat on the bed opposite from you, drying his arms and hair with his own towel.
“Naw.” Daryl muttered. He finally turned away from the window and began drying himself. “Gonna be a few hours, at least.”
You furrowed your brows, looking down in your lap. This was quite the predicament. Stuck in a bedroom with two men, one you barely knew and were pretty sure hated you.
The other… Well, you weren't sure what Rick was to you.
Daryl wasn't right, but he wasn't wrong either. The storm did continue for a few hours, but it also didn't show any signs of stopping.
You glanced down at your watch and felt your heart drop. It was seven pm, and the sun would be setting very soon. Not that you could see much outside anyways, the clouds were thick and covered a majority of the sky.
Your voice broke the long streak of silence.
“Are we gonna have to stay here tonight?”
Rick and Daryl had known the answer to that question two hours prior. Neither of them wanted to be the ones to say it, but their lack of direct answers filled you in enough. Rick looked down at his revolver and Daryl continued staring out the window.
“Fuck.” You groaned, sitting back down on the bed. “I promised Maggie we'd watch season two of True Blood tonight.”
“That dog fucker show?” Daryl muttered around his cigarette. He was leaning against the wall next to the window, legs crossed at the ankles, cleaning under his nails with the blade of his knife.
“No Daryl, there's no dog fucking.” You sighed and he just mumbled in response, not looking up from his fingers.
Rick had made himself busy trying to prepare the room for the night.
He'd found a few hurricane lanterns and set two up on the bedside tables, and began anxiously ‘cleaning’. The room only had the bed, dresser, and bedside tables, so there wasn't much he could do besides look in the same drawers over and over.
At some point he went into the small bathroom and shut the door. He stayed there for a couple minutes, doing god knows what.
There were a few clothing items left by the previous owners. Daryl and Rick got some raggedy sweatpants, shirts full of holes that were a little too small for them. You were stuck with a massive piss yellow sweater and the ugliest pair of basketball shorts.
Anything was better than your soaking rags.
The storm had eased up a bit, but that didn't do much in terms of easing your boredom. The sun had long since set, your watch read ten-thirty, and neither man was very talkative.
“I'll take first watch.” Daryl was the first to speak in a while.
“No. I'll do it.” Rick protested. He'd been cleaning his revolver for the last thirty minutes. “I can't sleep anyway.”
“Yeah, well. Neither can I.”
You'd found a box of random items under the bed and had been looking through them while they bickered. A dead Gameboy, random PlayStation controllers, a few comic books, pieces to Monopoly, and an array of broken crayons. There was a pen and a notepad though, so you started drawing a caricature of Daryl.
Angry eyebrows, a cigarette that was half his height in his frowning mouth, and a speech bubble filled with hash tags for explicatives.
“Hey.” You nudged Rick's knee with your elbow. He sat on the bed above where you were, cross-legged on the floor next to your box of bullshit.
He looked down at the paper you showed him, and for the first time that day you saw his lips twitching up into a smirk. His eyes trailed over the paper and he grabbed it from you, bringing it up closer to his face.
“Is that Daryl?” He questioned, and you nodded, a grin splitting across your face.
“That's good.” Rick nodded, shrugging his mouth. “You got a real talent. Looks just like him.”
Daryl was too bored to hide his interest, so he stood from his spot under the bedroom window and walked over to you. He grabbed the notepad from Rick, and you could see his eyes narrowing as he tried to make out your scribbles in the dim lighting.
“Yeah?” Daryl looked up when he heard the two of you stifling giggles and laughter. “Think that's funny? Gimme that.” He snatched the pen from your hands and flipped the page, sitting down on the dresser and scribbling furiously.
The pad was tossed in your lap a minute later. Your eyes widened on the drawing.
It was obviously you. You had on the same sweater, but it went down to your feet instead of your knees, and you were standing beside a cat. The only problem was, the cat was three times taller than you, and you had the ugliest expression on your face. Your mouth hung open and you were nagging the cat about scratching up the furniture. It was based on a scenario that had happened the day before, with your cat back home, Daisy, who you had caught shredding the living room couch.
“Dude, what am I? Two inches tall?” You laughed, handing the paper to Rick. He covered his mouth to hide the smile, but you saw it through his fingers and stood to give him a shove.
“Right, sorry. Drew ya too big. Hold on.” Daryl came over and drew a new stick figure of you so small that it was the size of a real ant.
“Ooookay, fuck you.”
Daryl dogged the small notepad you'd tossed at his face, and started laughing. Actually laughing. Your smile grew softer as he and Rick began to joke. It had been a while since you'd seen either of them behave in such a lighthearted manner. It made the bare bedroom seem not so cold.
Eventually the curtains were drawn and the lanterns dimmed considerably. You'd claimed the only spot on the bed that wasn't lumpy or sunken, which just so happened to be the middle.
No other reason, promise.
For the sake of his joints, Daryl had given up trying to sit on the hard floor and joined you on the bed, claiming the side closest to the window. He'd made sure to put distance between you, so much so that he was nearly hanging off the edge.
Rick had a little more resolve than the other man and stood by the window for a bit, occasionally peeking out the heavy curtains to see the same amount of darkness as before.
“Thank god you showered this morning.” Rick grunted as he sat down on your left, knocking his boots together before he brought his legs up on the bed.
“Me?” You blurted immediately, already feeling the tiniest but of anxiety, Rick never teased you like that. He saved that for the men.
He gave a toothy grin and shook his head. “No. Him.” He pointed over your body to Daryl, who was smoking his third cigarette of the night. “Carol made him take his monthly shower after he came home covered in coyote blood.”
You giggled, glancing over at Daryl.
“Yeah. Laugh it up.” Daryl took a deep drag.
You kicked off your shoes and sat upright, taking off those god awful shorts while the two men continued to playfully insult each other.
Rick caught himself going quiet when he saw you pulling the shorts down your thighs, his mouth drying at the sight. Daryl quickly shot him a look, dragging his attention away from your now bare legs and back onto him.
You didn't notice a thing, but you wished you had. Maybe you'd have started grinding against him earlier that night.
You were the first to fall asleep, to no one's surprise. There were little things that you loved more in life than sleeping.
Curled up underneath the sheets that you'd checked twenty times for bugs, sleep came quick and easy for you.
The sweater you were wearing had become incredibly uncomfortable so you swapped it for Rick's hole ridden T-shirt, leaving him shirtless. The image of his bare chest and the muscles in his back almost gave you enough adrenaline to stay up the entire night, but Daryl's soft breathing and Rick's body heat beside you tugged you unconscious.
Rick was next to give in, he'd kicked his boots off and climbed under the sheets with you, not before sliding a pillow between your bodies, more for your consideration than his modesty. He didn't give a shit, but he was worried you might.
Daryl was last, and by complete accident. He'd meant to take the first watch but the sounds of rain on the roof, gentle thunder outside, and your soft breathing beside him had him out like a light.
Two hours went by before something woke Rick up. The feeling of pressure against his crotch.
He opened his eyes, blinking a few times in a struggle to see, but the room was too dark to immediately recognize his surroundings.
Once he remembered where he was he relaxed. He closed his eyes again and almost fell back to sleep when he felt it.
A gentle nudge of something soft and plush against him, something that made him well aware of the situation in his sweatpants. He was painfully erect.
His eyes opened again, but the room was no easier to see in. He could still hear the sounds of quiet rain and wind, and the new sound of Daryl's soft snoring.
Then you whimpered.
It was quiet, barely audible, and whiny. You were squirming in your sleep, the pillow between the two of you now between your knees, separating them to prevent the annoying feeling of bone on bone.
Your ass moved back against him again. He pulled his hips back, his dick immediately complaining about the loss of contact with a slight twitch. He clenched his teeth together and closed his eyes, willing himself to fall back asleep.
Think about cold showers. You're taking a cold shower, he thought, taking deep breaths. Cold cold shower. She's in a cold shower--- raw potatoes, grub worms, rotten walker flesh, her flesh, her ass is only a few inches away, snug in those cute boyshort underwear-
Daryl let out a sudden louder snort, startling Rick out of his thoughts. His eyes snapped open, only closing once he heard the earlier gentle snores return.
Your movements stilled and he was able to sleep once again, not without an iron will mindset.
You weren't sure how long you'd been sleeping when you woke up. You checked your watch, seeing the green glowing hands pointed at the twelve and nine.
It was only twelve forty-five.
You sighed.
The room had grown colder as the night went on, cold air seeping through the thin cracks in the walls and floorboards.
As a result of said colder temperature, Daryl had moved closer to you, be that in his sleep or on purpose, you didn't know. All you knew was he was there on your right side, his bicep warm and pressed against your upper chest.
Rick had also moved closer. So close, in fact, that his hand was on your waist, resting there like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. Your heart sped up when you realized this, and when he pulled you closer in his sleep you almost gasped.
He was hard.
Like, really hard.
You could feel it behind his sweatpants pressed right into your ass. His breathing was slow and deep, letting you know that he was definitely asleep, not that the knowledge did much to stop the arousal filling your chest.
You couldn't stop the whimper that sounded deep in your throat. Daryl's snoring covered it, or you thought it did. Rick stirred behind you and you heard the sound of him sniffing sleepily.
He had to be awake, you were sure of it. His breathing had become quiet, much different than the sounds of someone who was deep in sleep. He made no move to pull his hand away from your hip, confusing you even further.
Maybe he wasn't awake.
A lightbulb went off. You wiggled your hips, very slightly, only a few millimeters side to side. It was enough to gain a reaction from him, which let you know that he was definitely awake.
Rick's grip tightened on your hip.
Then he pushed into you.
There was nothing you could've done to prepare yourself for that kind of response. You sucked in a breath and felt your pussy throb. It was such a faint and quick movement, but you could vividly feel the shape of his dick pressing against your ass.
You heard movement behind you, the sound of his stubble scraping across his pillow as he moved his lips to your ear, speaking barely above a whisper.
“Stay still.”
Your eyes flicked to Daryls face.
You could barely see the outline of his head illuminated in moonlight thanks to the parting clouds. His nose pointed up at the ceiling, his lips parted as he breathed.
A wave of heat traveled through your body, starting in your chest and shooting down to your core. You felt that flipping sensation in your lower stomach and you whimpered again, rubbing your thighs together.
Rick inhaled deeply through his nose at the action. His hand shifted upwards, moving over your hip and splaying over the curve of your waist. He could feel you pressed against him, even if you weren't moving, and it made him groan faintly.
The sound of him groaning sent another spark through your core. You couldn't help it, you arched your back just enough to feel friction. You were too weak willed.
“Sweetheart.” He breathed, his forehead resting against the back of your hair to try and steady himself. “You gotta stop, please.”
He hated how desperate and wrecked the whispered words came from his lips. Hated how his dick was aching in his boxer briefs.
Hated how he was just as weak willed as you, his hips moving forward in a way that betrayed his words and stomped them in the mud.
You couldn't understand why you were so unbearably aroused. You weren't a teenager going through puberty. You've had partners.
Sure, you had a little admiration-fueled crush on the two men, but the way your body was behaving was animalistic. Your heart felt like it was going to burst through your chest and your pussy was soaked.
If only you had your vibrator that was back in Alexandria, you'd orgasm in five seconds, you knew that for a fucking fact.
Daryl muttered a nonsensical sentence in his sleep, his head lolling over in the direction of the window. His right arm rose to lay over his chest, and his left leg spread out in your direction.
His knee bumped against the top of your thighs, almost slipping between them.
You could've screamed.
You tried to stay still, really, you did. But the feeling of Rick pushing against you again, Daryl's knee nudging between your thighs, it was impossible. You moved your hips, intending on just pushing back against Rick but your action also succeeded in grinding down right on Daryl's knee.
Rick could feel resistance in your movement but his mind couldn't focus on anything but the feel of your plush ass pressing against his dick.
His blood ran cold at the sound of Daryl mumbling in his sleep again. He held his breath, waiting with baited breath to see if he'd stir awake.
Relief flooded his body after a moment of silence, and he pressed his face back into your hair. There was still a faint smell of shampoo or conditioner despite the earlier rain. The feminine smell made his dick twitch and he flexed his jaw.
You were caught between excitement and horror. Daryl's knee was wedged right between your thighs, and occasionally it would jerk up against you. Each time it would make you fight away a gasp, and make your clit throb.
Daryl was definitely asleep, right? If he woke up he'd roll over on his side, right? There was no way he was awake, pushing his knee right up against your pussy, right?
You reached down to grab Rick's hand, which was still resting against your waist, gripping onto his fingers for support. His fingers curled around your own and sent butterflies in your stomach at the feeling of comfort.
He hated himself for all of it, but in the moment, he felt like he didn't care. His hips rocked against yours, once, twice, the need to get relief clouding all judgment he was capable of having.
You couldn't help yourself either. Your eyes fluttered shut and you rolled your hips, soft and slow, against Rick's bulge and Daryl's knee. You'd tried several times to push it away, wiggle back further into Rick, but it was like there was a goddamn super magnet attached to your clit and his knee cap.
You bit down hard against your lip, trying to keep your voice from escaping. Everything felt so good, Rick dry humping his heart out, your clit buzzing, it all felt so overwhelmingly amazing that you hadn't even noticed Daryl's snoring was no longer present.
In the end, it wasn't enough, Rick was being too cautious. You needed more, just a little bit. You pushed back hard against him and heard his breath hitch in his throat. His hand gripped yours so tight it almost hurt, and he leaned into your ear.
“Movin’ too much. Stop.”
You squeezed your eyes shut. You shook your head, your lip trembling between your teeth.
“Can't.” You breathed. You physically couldn't stop, you knew that and Rick knew that. You were both so close to relief, you'd already gotten this far, there was no point in stopping now. No going back.
Rick swallowed hard as he felt his resolve break at the way you and your body pleaded. It was all he needed. His hips moved a bit faster, a bit rougher. His hand left yours and grabbed the string of his sweatpants, fingertips pinching the ends, hesitating only for a second before he pulled.
Time seemed to literally freeze when you felt him digging his cock out behind you. Your heart stopped, your breathing stopped, and so did the grinding of your pelvis. You couldn't think. It was suddenly all too very real.
You didn't expect Rick to do something like this. The dry humping, sure. He was horny and it wasn't really that big of a deal. But this? Tugging down your underwear? Spitting on his hand and stroking his dick to get it wet for you? It felt like a dream and way too terrifying at the same time.
“Sweetheart…” His hot breath against your ear snapped you back to reality. “You… you gotta be quiet, okay? Promise?”
You'd never nodded so quickly and eagerly in your life. Your heart felt like it was literally up in your throat. The tight knot in your core became more and more taut, and it trembled when you felt the hot tip of his wet dick bump between your folds.
Rick nearly came when he felt how wet you were. It was mind blowing, you were fucking soaked. The hot lube was covering your pussy and trailing down the side of your ass, reaching his hip bone.
You inhaled deeply when you felt him start to push in. You'd think with how wet you were it would be easy, but your muscles were wound tight due to the nearly paralyzing fear of possibly waking Daryl.
There was a bit of self disgust when you felt the weight of reality sinking in. The absolute pathetic degeneracy of what you were doing with Daryl right next to you.
That self disgust faded when Rick pushed into you.
Rick swallowed a groan as his cock dug up into you, your walls hot and soft and squeezing the life out of him. He could feel how nervous you were so he slipped an arm over your side, his hand reaching for your own again.
You moaned.
His hand broke from your grip and clamped over your mouth. Neither of you moved for a solid minute.
It was the longest minute in history. You could feel his dick twitching inside of you, your clit throbbing so hard you thought it was going to have its own little heart attack.
Your thighs absentmindedly squeezed against Daryl's knee, and you were sure you'd start crying.
Finally, Rick began moving. His breathing was growing heavy behind your head, his face burying back into the mess of hair in front of him.
His movements were slow at first. Tantalizingly slow. He waited until he was sure you could stay quiet before picking up the pace.
Your eyes had adjusted a fair amount in the darkness. You looked up to Daryl, finding comfort when you saw his eyes were still closed, but he'd stopped snoring long ago.
You dismissed it and grabbed onto the wrist of the hand covering your mouth, gripping tight for support.
Your right hand slipped under the sheets to rest on your thigh, but instead landed on Daryl's lower thigh. He must've been a very heavy sleeper, because he didn't react to it beyond the muscles tensing under your palm.
The sound that escaped Rick's lips had your eyes rolling back into your head. A trembling whimper. His movements grew quicker and deeper, his dick dragging your walls against him, pulling out every drop of arousal he could and thrusting it back in.
Your mind spun as all thoughts left your brain. There was nothing going on up there anymore, just dark blackness, the feeling of Rick fucking you taking over your conscious body.
His hand grabbed yours, the one on Daryl's knee, and pulled it away from you, to the right.
When your fingers brushed up against something warm and soft, you didn't question it. You didn't even question his fingers moving yours to wrap around his dick.
Your eyes shot open.
Rick's dick was still inside you. His right hand was still on your mouth, his left on the small of your back.
Daryl's eyes were open, and looking right into yours.
You went to jerk your hand away out of reflex, but his grip was tight, forcing your fingers to stay wrapped around his thick cock. Your eyes flew over him, fighting to understand what was happening, when had he woken up? Just then? Or was he awake when he pushed his knee between your thighs?
The orgasm that came out of nowhere pushed all those questions aside.
You moaned against Rick's hand as you came, no longer trying to be quiet, no longer trying to keep your hips still. Your thighs clamped down on Daryl's knee, grinding rough and quick.
Much to Rick's absolute heart-stopping horror.
He tried to muffle your moans, forcing his hand down painfully hard on your mouth, but it did little. He bared his teeth near your ear and hissed for you to stop, the sound sharp and jarring as it came through his clenched teeth, but then his eyes landed on the scene over your body.
Daryl using your hand to stroke his dick. Daryl with his other arm bent behind his head, his face tilted to the side to watch your expressions with parted lips.
It took Rick a few seconds to recover from the near heart attack. He almost lost his boner from the heart dropping adrenaline, but your wet walls spasming around him coaxed his hips forward.
Now that you didn't need to be quiet you pulled Rick's hand off your mouth and gasped down a lungful of air. Your mouth was hot and dry, and it was hard to swallow.
You couldn't take your eyes off Daryl, his eyes, the eyes that hadn't left your face since he woke up.
God, he was unbelievably sexy. The way he was so responsive to your touch led you to believe your hand might possibly be the first hand to touch his dick other than his own.
He grunted softly, his eyes finally falling shut after you gently squeezed the base of his dick. You'd be content to get him off with one hand like you had been for the past few minutes, but you couldn't resist the urge to give him his first hand job and blowjob.
“Up.” You panted. You curled your finger at Daryl, pointing up. He happily obliged and sat upright, scooting up towards the headboard until his lap was right in front of your face.
He seemed absolutely thrilled, ecstatic even. His once heavy eyes were now wide open, watching every move you made as you shifted your upper half so your mouth could reach his dick.
Rick was still thrusting with hesitation when you moved. He watched you lick broad stripes on the underside of Daryl's dick, and he couldn't help but glance at his face to see his reaction.
Mouth hanging open, eyes clenched tightly shut, his expression almost looked pained. His hands had found their way to your hair, gripping two handfuls as he began trying to move your head for you.
You slapped his hands away and grabbed his wrists, an action that had his eyes opening and looking down at you.
“Don't.” Your hot breath tickled the sensitive skin of his tip. He pinched both his lips shut between his teeth, nodding quickly, a shaky closed-lip moan rattling in his throat.
Rick finally got ahold of himself and grabbed your hips to turn your lower half on your stomach. He kept his dick inside you as he slid on top of you, his knees spreading to rest on either side of your thighs.
You were taking Daryl's head past your lips when Rick suddenly fucked you like he'd been wanting to the entire time. Both his hands rested on the small of your back, pushing your hips down into the mattress with all his weight to keep them firmly in place.
You gasped around Daryl at the feeling of Rick pounding into you from above. It was a comically drastic change from only five minutes before when he thought Daryl was asleep.
Daryl's wrists flexed in your hands where you had them pressed against his lower stomach. You knew he was only keeping them there in your grasp because he allowed it, and not because you were somehow strong enough to keep even a single wrist of his in your fist, let alone two.
It took a lot of effort on Rick's part to actually finish. Having Daryl in the room when you fucked was one thing, but having him making all that noise just from your mouth was another.
He was honestly more surprised that Daryl actually enjoyed sex acts than the fact he was engaging in them with him in the room. With no one other than you, a girl he almost never saw him interact with.
Rick had assumed Daryl simply wasn't interested. Incorrectly assumed.
Either way, having Daryl only a few feet away from him while he had his dick inside you was something he wasn't sure he enjoyed. But the way you clenched around him every time he pulled back was enough to make him forget about it.
Daryl was struggling to keep himself together. He had no point of reference, but he thought you were incredibly talented at giving head. You were giving it your all, sucking and licking like your life depended on it. It was impressive how well you were managing to concentrate on blowing him with Rick making such a mess of your pussy.
You couldn't be happier. You knew there were so many women back in Alexandria that would kill to be in your position, lying in front of the Daryl Dixon, lying under the Rick Grimes, both of their dicks inside you.
“Wa-wait.” Daryl suddenly sputtered and ripped his wrists from your hands to cup the sides of your face, giving a few gentle slaps with the tips of his fingers.
You looked up, not taking your mouth off of him. His expression made your pussy clench around Rick and he groaned behind you, the sound raw and deep. He shifted his hips and ground down against you, quick and rough, his tip jabbing deep inside you.
The ragged moan you let out reverberated through Daryl, and the hand you had around his base gave a trembling squeeze.
“M’boutta, Jesus! Hey, oh, godfuckindamnit-” Daryl's jaw dropped and his eyes rolled back, his head tipping backwards as he made that same pained expression and came down your throat.
Your hips were roughly jerked up from the bed, shoving you back on Rick's dick, and then his hands slipped under your armpits to pull up your top half.
It was hard to stay upright, but thankfully Rick was generous enough to provide you the luxury of his hands tight against your tits, keeping your back flush against his chest.
Oh, it was a goddamn shame Daryl had just come. The sight in front of him was something he knew millions would pay- no, kill- to see. You looked breathtaking. Rick had taken your shirt off some time ago, leaving you completely bare as you kneeled in front of Daryl.
He forgot to breathe as he watched your face, slack in pleasure. You were struggling to keep your eyes open and on him, something that made his softening cock twitch. All that struggling just to look at someone like him? The hell did he deserve to have someone like you looking at him like that?
Rick deserved praise for the way he supported your weight with just his hands, keeping your entire upper half pressed against his chest while he fucked you in desperate effort to finally get off. His dick felt raw from how long he'd been at it, his balls throbbing from the delayed orgasm, it was a wonder he was able to keep himself upright, let alone you.
“Daryl.” The way you whimpered his name made his cock jump back to life, and he pushed himself up on his elbows to look up at you, eager to obey whatever it was you were about to ask.
“Yeah?” He rasped as he stared up at you.
You'd placed your hands over Rick's and moved his fingers over your nipples, which he was pinching and rolling, something he understood without you even needing to ask.
“Touch me, please.”
You didn't need to ask twice. Daryl inched down the bed and kept himself propped up on one elbow, his other arm sliding over his chest to reach your clit.
Rick decided at that moment he definitely didn't like threesomes. Feeling you twist and hearing you moan due to Daryl's thumb rubbing against you made his chest and face hot, a childish reaction considering you and Rick were not a thing, and certainly not an exclusive thing.
He just wasn't good at sharing.
The silly jealousy led to him putting his all into pleasing you. His thrusts became slower but deeper, more forceful, knocking out a gravely groan from your throat with each one. His hands left your breasts to tangle in your hair, pulling it up into a makeshift ponytail with his fist being the hair tie.
Your skin buzzed when he pressed his face into your neck to plant sloppy kisses. He bit down and you whined, arching your back against him and tilting your head to the side to provide him better access.
Unlike Rick, Daryl didn't have a care in the world. His mind was completely blank as he stared up at you above him, oblivious to the way his thumb cramped from the constant circles he rubbed into you.
“C'mere.” You breathed, wrapping your fingers in Daryl's hair to urge him up and guide his mouth to your nipples.
Daryl's eagerness to please was one of the hottest things you'd ever witnessed. He took your right nipple in his mouth and went to town like his life depended on it.
He flexed his tongue, digging the firm and wet muscle around your bud, circling it the same way his thumb now circled your clit.
Your orgasm came screeching out of nowhere.
You cried out and gripped Daryl's head tighter, pulling his mouth firm against your breast as you came.
The feeling of your walls squeezing the life out of his cock finally brought about Rick's own climax.
He wrapped his fist around the hair bundled in his grasp and tugged your head to the side, baring your neck to his itching teeth, and clamped down as he gave a rough thrust.
You'd failed to notice that at some point Daryl had grown hard again, only noticing when he let out a ragged moan into your wet chest.
Your bleary eyes found him and caught sight of his hand quickly jerking himself. There was the flash of thick cum spurting out, long ropes coating the inside of your thighs.
“Fuck.” You slurred. Now that was the new hottest thing you'd ever seen.
Rick's teeth released their grip on your neck. He pulled back and let his head droop back as he caught his breath, his shoulders heaving with deep and ragged pants. He became aware of how uncomfortably sweaty he was. His chest and back felt soaked, and he dropped your hair to pull away from you.
You heard Rick plop down on the bed behind you, the springs creaking from his sudden weight dropping on it all at once. You were too busy admiring Daryl to pay attention to it.
There was a lazy smile on your face, your eyes half lidded and glued to his face. Even though the room was dark you were sure you could see how red his cheeks were. His lips were glossy and parted as he took in deep breaths, still wet from drooling all over your tits.
He could barely keep his eyes open, and with the way you had one hand cupping his face, the other brushing back his sweaty hair, he wasn't sure he wanted to. The sweet way you were looking down at him was just too hard to look away from.
The next morning wasn't as awkward as one would think, even though it was obvious Rick was having some internal battle on the ethics of what he'd done the night before. He'd never been in a situation where he knew he really shouldn't be doing something like that, so his lack of restraint was new knowledge he'd have to ponder over.
Daryl couldn't give any less of a fuck, that morning he gave you the whole princess treatment. Grabbing your now dry clothes, your bag, your shoes, and bringing them to you. Offered you the last of his water and opened every door you came across for you. He didn't say much at all, much like Rick, but his mood was clearly the exact opposite.
It was so sweet it made your heart ache.
“Hey.” Rick pulled you aside after you finally got back home, shooting Daryl a look to give the two of you privacy.
“Hi.” You smiled. The stern look on his face was cute.
“What we did-”
“Don't.” You stopped him, giving the man a tired smile. “It was the sexiest thing I've ever done and I'm fine with it being a one time thing, but don't ruin it and tell me it was wrong.”
“I wasn't going to say that.” His gaze had softened, but he still looked down at you with his hands on his hips like a disappointed authority figure. “I just don't want you to think it's okay to bring up if we're all alone again.”
“I'm not stupid.” You snorted, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “Won't bring it up again.”
He sighed in frustration, trying not to roll his eyes but failing. “No, it ain't that either. Let's just- next time,” your eyes widened, “not be as spontaneous.”
You grinned. “Alright. You got it.”
Daryl was nowhere near as reserved about the experience. You could understand Rick's point of view, conservative family man, that was probably the most extreme thing he'd ever done in bed. But Daryl, oh, you'd just changed his fucking world.
“Pst.”
You stopped in front of the bathroom to see Daryl nodding you over, lighting a cigarette as he stood near the door to his room.
“Hi.” You smiled after approaching him.
“You okay?”
You beamed at the question, shifting your pile of clothes in your arms. “Yeah, I'm okay. Are you?”
He nodded as he took the first pull, turning his head to blow the smoke away from your face. “Is, uh…” He nodded his head to the front door, where Rick still stood on the porch talking to a few people. “He alright?”
“He's fine.”
“Alright. Good.” He shifted awkwardly. He cleared his throat, looking down at the cherry on his cigarette before bringing it back up to his lips. “That somethin' you wanna do again?”
You pursed your lips in an attempt to hide the ecstatic smile that threatened to embarrass you, and nodded.
He let out a breath that sounded like a laugh of relief and disbelief. There were a few seconds of silence, his eyes darting between his cigarette and your face. “With me?”
“Of course. Maybe next time just you.” You turned to head back to the bathroom but quickly turned on your heel and walked back to him. “Daryl? When did you,” you struggled to get the words out, ironic considering how bold youd been the night before, “you know, wake up?”
“Oh.” He grunted, his ears burning. “Dunno. While before.”
You felt a mix of embarrassment and relief. So he had pushed his knee between your legs on purpose. The thought had your stomach flipping and your face getting warm, so you gave a quick and polite smile before running off to the bathroom.
mark knows it's wrong- he shouldn't be fantasizing about the youngest detective. But after a one-seat short op, he finds himself at war with his own mind.
part two of 'Heaven Ain't Close in a Place Like This'
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heyyyy!!! i just joined tumblr and am trying to make my blog look pretty lol and i love yours so much, i thought i’d ask (i also love your posts).
how did you make the pictures in your pinned post? like, what format did you use?
also, how do you like put the links to other pages?
lmao sorry, these are dumb questions 😭
hi, love! let me be the first to say welcome to tumblr. those aren’t dumb questions at all— I wish when I started my blog I knew about these things, so I’m more than happy to help! I’m just gonna go through everything I use so bare with me lmao
How do I get the colorized text?
I look up color pallets on Pinterest or google. then, I bring the pallet I chose over to figma.com/color-picker. I chose the colors I want and then copy the hex codes.
then, I take the copied hex code to stuffbydavid.com/textcolorizer and this website provides easy instructions (I personally needed the easiest ones, so I’m always gonna recommend this).
the kind of annoying thing about tumblr is when you have the code for your colorized text, you can only put it into tumblr using a laptop or computer.
on a laptop / computer / maybe an ipad, i’m not entirely sure, I would make a draft post. there’s a settings button on the drafted post that will take you to a little menus of things you can pick.
scroll down until you see the ‘text editor’ option. the ‘rich text’ options opens up to a few other options. we need the ‘HTML’ one. paste your html code!
I would recommend saving the post as a draft so you can go in and edit the way the text looks on your post. like if you want it bold or larger.
How do I get the photos?
I’m a Pinterest princess. search up what you want there and get 3 or how many pictures you’d like! I think tumblr has a 30 limit, though.
the photo options lets you put your photos onto the post. from there, if you’re on a phone, it lets you move them around. I press on the photo and then move it where I want it. you can do the same with other pictures as well!
How do I get the links?
live laugh love links.
If I’m linking my own works in a master post, I’ll put the name of the fic down. then, I’ll select the text and go through the options. I press the link button and paste in the link.
it looks a little different on a computer, but it doesn’t stray too far from what it looks like on a phone.
I hope this was helpful!! feel free to ask any other questions :)
summary: Mark’s living on borrowed time. and before he goes, there’s one thing he wants— you. even if he’s about to miss his cue as the groom.
estelle yaps: my cat watched and judged me the entire time I wrote this. sorry, bud. your mothers’ a whore.
cw: mdni. dead dove: do not eat. discussions of death. mentions of cancer. swearing. cheating. softdom!mark. small age gap. swearing. mark is yearning. semi-public sex. p in v. unprotected sex. oral (m and f receiving). dirty talking. slight size kink. vaginal fingering. mirror sex. table top position. standing doggy position. praise. cream pie. pet names [ sweetheart, baby, my girl, sweet girl, good girl, messy girl, little thing, pretty girl ]. I might have missed some!
word count: 5.3k
Mark had been given the diagnosis on a sunny afternoon.
It was the kind of sunny that baked sidewalks and casted a warm glow on buildings, light shining through leaves in an almost holy way. It was a few days before he was getting married. These days, the earth smelled sweeter, colors were brighter, and he couldn’t stop getting headaches.
He had chalked it all up to stress. Planning a wedding that would make all the in-laws happy was a taxing job. No less than his day job as a homicide detective. But as the days progressed, his headaches started getting more frequent. Melinda had told him to get it checked out, reasoning with him by telling him he should be in good health for their wedding day.
The hospital smelled like antiseptic and that unusual smell all hospitals had. Maybe it was whatever they were making in the kitchen. Maybe it was the sour smell of sickness, decaying more each each day. Mark couldn’t tell.
He had been hunched over in the patient room, the lights turned off. The room had been bathed in darkness, casting shadows along his face. When the doctor walked in with his CT and MRI results, he wore a grim face. And Mark knew something was terribly wrong. He had seen that face. Often in the mirror right before going to the victims' families, reporting that their child or sibling was dead.
Glioblastoma multiforme. A highly aggressive brain tumor. That was the cause of his headaches.
Mark was floored. He had been handed a pink slip with his death date on it. He probably had a couple years, if he was one of the lucky ones. Alone in that hospital room, Mark sat with himself. Gave himself permission to look back on his life and figure out if he truly enjoyed it. If he really lived. Did he put away enough criminals? Was he a loving partner? Did he do enough when he was alive to be remembered? What happens if he didn’t?
He sat for a long while. He found his own conclusion, handed to him by God himself. Or maybe it was the devil. Things are different now. He was living on borrowed time. Anyday, the tumor could take over his motor skills and leave him crashing to the floor. Stealing his life like a swindler or a punishment for something he couldn’t begin to place what for. You’re not really living until you’re dying, he decided. He was gonna let loose. There was nothing for him to lose, anyway.
Everything had been taken away from him. He couldn’t marry Melinda now. For what? To leave her with a coffin full of grief and debt? He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t do that to himself. He had himself to think about now- what he’d do with the remainder of his life.
He stewed in his thoughts. Marinated in fear that was eating away at his chest, clawing at his nerves as the ticking time bomb in his brain got closer to exploding every second. He crafted himself a bucket list as he raced down the I-90. The things he wanted to accomplish. He thought of things like skydiving, drinking, working to put away as many scumbags as he could. But there was one thing that kept creeping back to the forefront of his mind. A little secret obsession nagging at him.
That obsession came in the form of Melinda’s best friend. A sweet girl who always hosted parties. Always smiled. Asked about his cases. And she was scheduled to be a bridesmaid. You.
He knew he had to leave his fiance. He knew it in his soul, something tugging on him deep within his bones. The rehearsal dinner would be the last time he ever got to try anything with you. For over a year, he had kept his distance. He had always acknowledged you were a beautiful woman. Soft skin, bright eyes, bubbly. Mark knew you found him attractive- the lingering looks when no one else was looking, thinking you’d have been sneaky in your staring.
He knew the first time he’d met you. Two years ago at a christmas party you had been hosting. The memory was still fresh, now bathed in the soft golden light of a memory. He had just gotten time off after Melinda insisted, wanting Mark to meet one of her best friends. He’d walked into the kitchen after being directed towards the drinks and found you. Without knowing just who you were, his eyes glanced down at your figure. You had been perched at the counter, red dress clinging to you elegantly. He walked over and you both started talking. Mark had just been being nice, not letting his eyes stray. Well, until he noticed how when his voice lowered, talking about an old case, your thighs had clenched together.
The rehearsal was starting in half an hour. Mark had gotten there early, knowing you’d be one of the only other souls there. His steps were slow and controlled as he walked through the marble walls of the building, exiting through an archway. It leads out to a grassy path, already lined with chairs set up by the workers.
His eyes scanned over the sea of chairs until he saw you, sitting at the front with your phone pressed to your ear. Mark saunters over slowly, like a predator watching its prey. He stilled like a lion waiting for its chance to pounce. When you clicked your phone off, setting it down on the chair next to you, Mark made his move.
“Here early, sweetheart?” He asks from behind you, voice low.
His voice was smooth as honey, dripping deeply from his lips. The suddenness of his voice had made you jump, a laugh leaving your lips to scold him for sneaking up on you. Your heart has sped up and you take a second to breathe.
When you look over your shoulder, you look up to see Mark’s muscular frame towering over you. His hair looks like his hand had been threaded through it one too many times, likely tousled from the LA heat. The sun illuminated his eyes, bright emerald jewels glinting down at you. His lips curved in a smirk, knowing he had startled you.
“Yeah,” you say, patting the seat next to you for him to sit. “Wanted to make sure everything was perfect.” A smile captures your lips, pure happiness radiating off you.
Mark tries not to bite his lip. He tries not to let himself think too much about what he was about to do either. He had one chance, though. Mark knew the minute after the rehearsal was done he was going to leave. Pack all his bags and stay at a hotel for a while. Or have Melinda stay with her mother. He’d have to work out the kinks later.
Mark takes the seat next to you, the pressure of his presence immediately feeling like a stormfront. He was a ball of energy waiting to explode. What he wanted was you and he was damn sure you wanted the same thing. “Already is.” He drawls, his legs resting in a wide stance.
His voice makes your skin feel warm like it always does. But you’re good at hiding it. Or, you thought you were. Even if his legs were open, enticing, almost silently inviting you to sit on his lap.
Mark points a finger down at your necklace. It’s a silver chain with a lapis lazuli stone pendant settled just above your cleavage. He smiles gently, eyes flickering down the curve of your breasts. “That new? S’pretty.”
You glance down, being met with a straight shot of your cleavage. Your cheeks heat up at the thought of Mark intentionally looking. He wouldn’t. You mentally shake yourself and force yourself to say something. Your voice is raspier than you’d like it to be. “Just got it, actually.”
Your gaze scanned his, taking in the way his eyes had darkened. Even in the bright light of the sun. Mark exuded a confidence that was unlike anything you’d ever witnessed before. The man had his own center of gravity, bringing people in and making them feel like they were the ones who submitted to his pull. Your eyes glance down at his hand which was resting on his thigh. His hand was just a few inches from yours. When the swirling guilt feeling starts in your chest, you know you have to leave.
Brushing off your sundress, you stand from the chair. A half-assed excuse was already forming in your mind as you offered him a soft smile. “I’ve gotta check on a few things. Make sure Mel’s mum is getting here in time.”
Mark's eyes watch you the entire time. His movements are slow and deliberate like a hunter setting a trap for its prey. And maybe you are his prey. Maybe if it weren’t for the swirling feeling of guilt mixing with arousal, you would have been glad to be.
Then his hand reaches out, fingers curling around your wrist with ease. His skin was warm and calloused, touch gentle. The look that danced in his eyes was anything but gentle. They were narrowed. Skilled. Predatorial. “You’re doing great, sweetheart. Take a break.Things’ll be fine.”
You stutter. God, you wanted his hands on your body. Wanted to hear his voice whispering terrible things in your ear. But you couldn’t. Melinda’s one of your best friends. Yet, you don’t rip your wrist from his hold the way you should. You know that you should tell him to stop acting the way he was because it wasn’t the way a groom should be acting the day before his wedding.
“Mark,” Your voice is softer than it should be, a slight temple in your breath. He picks up on it. He picks up on like it was his end goal, the corner of his mouth curves into a victorious smirk. “What are you doing?”
His touch changes from a light ghosting on your skin to a hold. He was closer now, sitting up straight. His thumb rubbed the back of your hand, his gaze flickering up to lock onto yours. His eyes were swirling with desire, pupils blown and swallowing his green irises. “Something I want.”
His voice dips to something that’s barely audible. Low like gravel and smooth as an aged whiskey. And god, if his voice alone couldn’t have been your undoing. His head tilted slightly, expression serious. The energy between the two of you had changed to something serious. “You want me to stop?”
Damn you all to hell. “No.”
The next four minutes is a whirlwind. It’s full of a tense glance, then Mark was standing, towering over you again. His hand found the small of your back and you let him lead you around. His hand was warm against the soft material of your sundress, heating your skin hotter than the sun ever could. His voice was low right next to your ear, breath ghosting over your neck.
He led you back through the archway and into the venue. The lights were softer in the hallways, romantic lighting shining overhead in pale gold. A direct contrast to the lustful charge of energy behind you. Mark steered you right towards the bathrooms, which you walked straight in on shaky legs.
The bathroom was made with a large marble countertop with sinks on each end. The whole room was bathed in soft gold light, emphasizing how fancy the whole bathroom looked. The marble counter was paired in front of a large mirror.
You hear the soft click of the door, then Mark’s hands are resting on your waist. His chest is just merely pressed against your back, leaving inches between the two of you. His hands slowly run up your sides, goosebumps raising on your arms. Your skin feels like it's being set on fire. Mark brushes your hair from your neck, exposing your pulse point. He leans down close. His breath ghosts over your neck.
Heat pools in your tummy, spreading through your veins down between your thighs. You can already feel your panties getting slick, destroying the soft cotton and lace.
“Tell me you want this, baby.” His voice is rough, hold slipping down to your hip. His hand continues tracing down your body slowly. It’s a torturous pace. Once he reaches your thigh, at the edge of your sundress, he pauses. “Tell me you want me.”
“Yes.” Your voice is breathy, paper-thin. “I want this, Mark.”
There’s silence for a second. Just a second. Then Mark’s hand leaves your thigh and he spins you roughly in his hold. His hand cups your jaw, walking towards you. He walks you into the wall, back softly thumping against the gentle pink wall. His thumb runs against your bottom lip, hungry eyes watching you closely.
“Needed you for so long, sweetheart.” His voice is a whisper, hand slipping to ghost over your neck. His hold is gentle. When a soft gasp leaves your lips, he smiles. “Been thinkin’ of this for years.”
His head dips to press kisses against your jaw, littering them down your neck with fever. His lips are soft as he assaults your neck, pressing against your pulse. He licks at your skin and groans deep in his chest. His head snaps up, pressing a kiss against your forehead. “Want you on your knees.”
His hands leave your body, ripping the jacket he had on off his shoulders. Your eyes widen when you watch as he folds it, taking a step back and dropping it down in front of him. You felt your heart hammering like a jack rabbit in your chest. Your gaze lifted to his as you slowly sank down to your knees, watching as Mark’s chest rose in a soft gasping breath.
His eyes stayed on you as your hands shakily lifted to the belt of his jeans, unbuckling it with slow precision. Mark pulled hip between his teeth watching you work. His hand cupped your cheek gently, rubbing his thumb along your cheekbone. “That’s my girl.”
The zipper of his jeans and heavy breathing is the only thing that’s heard in the bathroom. When you peel his jeans down his legs like you were unwrapping a damn gift, the outline of his already half-hard cock is shoved right in your face. He’s bigger than you ever let yourself imagine.
When your hand runs up the length of him, clenching your thighs together as you feel him heavy in your palm, he groans. You free him from his boxers. His coch is warm and heavy, tip flushed red from how hard he was.
As soon as your hand is wrapped around his base, Mark threads his hands through your hair. He’s breathing hard through his nose, looking down at you expectantly. He smiles as your hand jerks him slowly. His smile widens as he gets to see a glint of almost fear in your eyes.
“Go slow. Stretch that mouth out first.”
A growl leaves his lips as he watches you press a kiss to the tip of his cock, eyes devouring your entire form. Here he was with an angel on her knees. When you stick your tongue out, licking a stripe up the underside of his cock, his grip on your hair tightens a little. You barely even touched him and he was already trembling with anticipation.
Your lips gently wrap around his tip, tongue swirling deliciously around him. He grunts, head lolling back as he feels how warm and wet your mouth is. “That’s it, fuck, take a little more.” His hands don’t push your head down, fingers holding your hair from your face as they twitch against your skull. “You can do it, baby. Jus’ like that, good girl.”
Your movements are slow, drool dripping down your chin as you’re able to get about half of him into your mouth. But really, you were only able to handle a forth before gagging. Mark coos down at you as you suck him in like a vacuum, finding a good rhythm of bobbing your head and fisting the base of his cock. Taking a deep breath through your nose, you sink down lower on him each time you bob your head.
Mark’s groaning as he looks down at you, lip gloss smeared and drool dripping down your lips. You looked like a mess. Even tears collecting on your lashes, daring to drip down your cheeks. A moan rips from your throat as Mark pulls at the root of your hair, a gentle tug that has you fluttering around nothing. The sound vibrates around his cock and he growls, looking down to watch you.
“Look at ‘ya, messy girl. Look so pretty.” Without meaning to, his hips thrust into your mouth gently. When you gag around him his eyes almost roll in the back of his head. “Lips of a fuckin’ angel.”
The praise shoots right down to your core, whimpering around his cock. When you bob up, your tongue swirls around the flushed head, drooling on him before sucking him back into your mouth. Your hand clutches his thigh, squeezing the meat of it as you shove him down your throat.
One of Mark’s hands leaves your hair, resting against your unhinged jaw. He gently taps your cheek with a grin as he looks down at you. “All stretched out, baby. Taking this cock so well. That’s my girl.” His hips press himself deeper down your throat, stretching you out further.
When he sees you shift, dying for some pressure, he moves himself into action. “Up.” He orders softly, helping you stand.
With bruised lips, drool all over your face, and tears dripping from your eyes, Mark swears softly. He presses his lips to yours, reaching down to gasp onto your thighs. A gasp leaves your lips as he lifts you effortlessly, walking you over to the counter top.
The marble is cold on your thighs, chill biting into your flushed skin. Mark’s breathing is heavy as he breaks from the kiss, eyes dark. You let your legs spread as he walks between them. Your chest rises and falls, breathing heavy as his eyes look over you like you’re a meal for him to devour.
His lips find your neck, kissing, nipping, sucking. Anything that makes a sweet noise fall from your lips. While one hand threads through your hair to cradle your head in his large hand, the other falls to your knee. He squeezes your knee before dragging his hand up your thigh slowly. He lifts the soft material of your sundress with him, his fingers digging into your skin.
His fingers trail up your inner thigh, smiling into your neck as you shiver. He makes contact with lace and almost has to scream. Drenched. Absolutely fucking drenched. He grunts against your neck, fingers hooking into your panties to thumb through your slit.
“Fuck, Mark-” yor voice comes out shakily, back arching under his hold. Your bundle of nerves fluttered as his fingers dragged along your slick, collecting your essence with ease.
“Need to taste you, sweetheart.” He mumbles against your skin. Mark detached from your neck and dropped to his knees in one swift movement.
His gaze locks with yours as he hikes your dress up, eyes clouded with desire. When his eyes look down to see the darkened wet spot against your panties a groan leaves your lips. His fingers yank the cotton with all his might, the material tearing. You gasp at the feeling of the chilled bathroom air, fingers taking purchase in Mark’s hair.
He shoves the remains of your panties inside of his pocket. His hands find your legs, holding tight to your thighs. He kisses your knee, then moves to the other. His lips trail fire up each thigh, kissing everywhere but where you needed him. His short beard scruffed against your delicate skin, the soft pain melting into pleasure.
When you whine, gently lifting your hips to his face, Mark laughs. “Needy little thing.” He grins, turning his face to suck a hickey against your inner thigh. “Jus’ need a little friction, huh baby?” From between your legs, his hand comes up to press his thumb against your clit. “Shh, I’m gonna take care of you.”
Your head thumps against the bathroom mirror, a gasp falling from your open mouth. Your eyes glance down to the scene between your legs. You watch as Mark grins before he replaces his thumb with his mouth. He licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit, tasting you. Mark grunts.
He moans. He moans and sucks your clit into his mouth, devouring you like a man starved. It’s messy and loud, squelching and sucking sounds booming off the walls of the bathroom. Gasps and moans fall from your lips. Mark kitten licks at your puffy folds, humming into your cunt as he buries his face into you.
Even when your thighs start to shake, Mark is forcing your legs open. The man was slurping you up like you tasted like candy. And to Mark? You tasted sweeter than any kind of candy he’d ever had in his life. His tongue swirls around your clit, loving the sounds he’s pulling from your lips.
His eyes had fluttered closed, absolutely pussydrunk. His chin was buried between your folds as he sucked your clit, lips suctioned around the bundle of nerves like it was his life line. He moaned against you, mouth everywhere all over you. He was a skilled professional. But god, your pussy made him lose his usual rhythm.
“Like fuckin’ candy, sweetheart.” He groans, ignoring the way you were pawing at his shoulders and head. His hands hold your hips, he comes uo for a deep breath before burying his face back into you. His tongue teased at your entrance, lapping at you lazily.
“Mark, fuck, engh- I’m gonna-” Your voice is broken, hand coming up to slap over your mouth. God, you were already seeing stars.
And you knew you were supposed to feel guilty. Your best friend's man was between your legs, for god's sake. But looking down at the way Mark was devouring you, every thought melted away from your mind. He was skilled to perfection. The man understood your body without even having to finger you.
But Mark groans into your cunt, shoving two fingers into your weeping cunt. Your walls flutter around the insertion, the feeling of being filled making you bite your tongue. His mouth worked in tandem with slow thrusts that quickly had you gushing all over his face and hand.
Mark chuckles, free hand rubbing gentle circles over your hip bone. “There she is,” he mumbles, lapping up your mess, the sweet flavor on his tongue. “Fuckin’ perfect.”
As your legs shake from your orgasm, Mark stands to get a good look of your face, Your face was flushed, pupils blown wide as tears streams were stained on your skin. Your lips were still bruised from his cock. You looked like a damn goddess by his standards.
His own face is covered in your slick, shiny sheen around his mouth and down his chin. The guy had a grin plastered across his face. Proud of the mess he made of you. He helps you lay down against the counter, touch gentle and filled with care.
Mark takes hold of his cock, precum dripping from the tip. He pants, the feeling shooting pleasure across his nervous system. His eyes catch yours to ask for permission. It’s silent. His eyes are wide, begging and pleading. And when you nod, barely but he’s sure, he’s rubbing the tip of his cock through your folds.
And god, you feel better than he could have ever imagined. Warm and wet and fucking gorgeous. A growl escapes his lips as he holds himself from plunging inside you. He wants to take his time. Savour every second of you spread out beneath him. Your puffy folds wrap around him as he manually flicks his cock over your clit, shushing you as whimpers fall from your lips.
“Shh, baby. I know. You need it, huh?” His tone is mocking, dragging his cock slowly over your bundle of nerves.
He watches every time your body arches, contorts or jolts from the pleasure he’s shooting through your veins. He’s studying you. Figuring out what works, what makes you tick, what makes you yelp.
“Please,” You murmur from behind your hand, other hand reaching to paw at his abdomen. Anything to get him to hurry up. Every nerve in your body was sitting on the edge of its seat, wound tightly awaiting the snap of the band.
Mark nods, knowing he couldn’t keep you here for too long. No matter how much he wanted to. He drags his cock through your slit once more before lining up to your entrance. He takes a deep breath before pressing into you.
There’s a collective gasp between the two of you, Mark continuing to stretch you out around him. Every inch nudges deeper, filling you up. He was barely half way inside and you’d never felt so full, spluttering and mumbling sounds. You weren’t even saying words, just a mouth full of fonts.
He thrusts slow and shallow, hiking your thigh up against his hip. “S’tight.” He groans, hand finding purchase on your other thigh to rub circles into your skin. With each thrust, he goes a little deeper. “Gotta work this pussy.” He grunts, hips stuttering as he finally fills you up.
He stops, watches your face scrunched up aad your legs tremble around him. Your hands are gripping the edge of the counter, marble biting at your fingers. Mark leans over you, a mewl slipping from your lips as he cock twitches inside you. He presses his forehead to yours. “So perfect, sweetheart. So pretty. Everythin’ a man could need, fuck.”
He stays stilled, letting you adjust to his size. If you hadn’t known better, you could have sworn he had ripped you apart. But you adjust. And you need him to move, chest rising as you pant.
“Mark, please, you can m-move.” Your voice shakes, eyes rolling in the back of your head.
And just like that, Mark’s resolve crumbles. His thrusts are slow and deep, making you feel each roll of his hips and drag of his cock inside you. He thrusts with precision, focused on chasing both of your pleasures.
It takes only a minute for you both to be panting, grabbing at each other, and for his hips to be smacking against yours. The wet squelching noises of his cock bullying your cunt bounces off the walls, the sounds borderline pornographic.
Mark’s hands are everywhere, squeezing your hips, wandering up your sides, squeezing your tits. The man is insatiable. He thrusts into you like an animal, grinning like a sociopath each time your body jolts. Each thrust feels like magic, knocking any other thoughts from your mind.
“Feel good, sweet girl? Feel you squeezin’- fuck, that’s it.” His voice is ragged as he yanks your hips in time with his thrusts, pounding into you with vigor. Every time he slams into you, your walls clench around his cock. And every time it happens he thinks you’re casting a damn spell on him.
“This pussy, sweetheart,” He grunts, a hand moving to hold his shirt up. His eyes look down to where the two of you connect, watching as his dick gets sucked into your puffy folds. Every time he pulls out, he’s covered in your slick. He bites back a groan as he continues rambling. “Brings a man to his fuckin’ kness, god, should’a bent you over that table years ago.”
You’re whining and withering under him, back arched as the coil in your tummy tightens. Every word that falls from his lips shoots down to your core.
“Remember that? The christmas party?” Mark grunts, panting above you. He changed the angle, hoisting your legs over his shoulders. Now he’s able to get deeper. A moan is pulled from your throat. “Thought you were perfect. Had me thinkin’ of you all night.”
Right as you’re tethering on the edge, pressure in your tummy building to perfection, Mark pulls himself out. Gentle hands forcefully drop your legs, yet with all the roughness he’s still careful. Standing makes you feel weak. Your legs wobbled like bambi, letting Mark turn you around to face the mirror.
Your face is tear-stained and flushed. Mark stands behind you, hand on the small of your back as he presses you down. Your legs spread into a wider stance, welcoming him in. With his own shaky hands, he lines himself back up and presses into you.
His forehead falls to your shoulder, a groan falling in unison. “Should’a left her the second I saw you, pretty girl. Knew you’d be sweeter. Fuck.”
A whine leaves your lips as he finds his rhythm again, a small pang of guilt and adoration swirling in your chest. Even if it was in one of the worst ways, being wanted by him felt good. Besides, no one would have to know about any of this.
“Mark!” Your legs wobble as his thrusts get sloppier, head of his cock kissing your cervix each time. The coil in your abdomen was tightening and ready to snap. “Run away with me.” Even as the words fall from your lips, you knew once the haze of your orgasm passed you wouldn’t be able to take that back. It was a confession. Because you wanted that. Wanted him.
And fuck, if Mark wouldn’t have done it. He would have scooped you up right after, bringing you home and holding you close to his chest. Giving you all the love he knew you deserved. But he couldn’t. His death was imminent. And he would never be able to bare the look on your face when his health decreases.
“Wanna.” He mumbles into your skin, kissing your shoulder softly. “Y’know I can’t, sweetheart.”
Maybe just saying he wanted was enough. Enough for this to mean much more than it already did. Because you were gonna be what he remembered until he took his last breath.
“Wanna take you and run.” His hand weaves between your bodies, finding your clit with ease. “Just stay with me in this moment, sweetheart.”
And you nod, teetering just on the brink.
Then you fall.
White hot pleasure takes over your nerves, burning through your veins. Every single one of your senses is overpowered by Mark. His hands on your body, his pine and cedar wood scent, his lips on your skin, and his hold on you. His words rattle in your mind as you convulse, hips pressing back in tandem with his thrusts.
It only takes a few thrusts before Mark spills into you, groaning. His arms are quick to encircle around you. Sitting in silence as you come down, breathing in your scent. Soft lips press against your temple.
The two of you stay like that for a long while.
Staying in each other’s company. Never wanting the moment to end.
But you know it will. Mark’s not yours. And he never will be yours- even if he leaves Melinda. He was a wild man at heart. Forever married to chasing criminals. Maybe, you could find some peace in that given time. But it was doubtful. So you would remind yourself once his arms leave you.
He was never yours.
divider by @uzmacchiato
estelle yaps some more: hello, my darling! my other works are here. my requests are open. if you’d like, join the taglist to be updated when I post!
cw: mdni. no use of y/n. no detail on the reader's appearance. explicit sexual content. rough sex. p in v. unprotected sex ( don't be silly, wrap the willy ). slight degradation. praise kink. size kink. dom!mark. dirty talk. Mark being a bit of a menace. pet names [ angel, sweetheart, my girl, baby, sweet girl ].
word count: 2.7K
last time…
“Because, angel,” he murmurs, hand sliding down your abdomen to cup your heat. “I want this to be just for me. I’m not gentle. I take what I want— and I need you to want it, too. Do you understand me?”
In just three seconds, you had willingly sold your soul. And the worst part was this: you didn’t want it back.
“Yes, I understand.”
Mark stills.
As if the Heavens had opened up and shone a light down on his probably pervy ass. In a split second– just for a beat, that was more than enough– he entirely forgot his strife from just a few hours ago.
All you can hear is his breath as his body cages you against your front door. He’s a statue, all hard muscle and sharp edges. His breath is low and ragged against your neck, and you swear for just a second, you thought you heard him murmur a prayer.
Like he’d been a match struck in gasoline, he moves. His hand cups your heat, fingers running through your folds. His thumb bumps and rubs over your overstimulated clit, grinning against your skin when you whimper.
“Good.” He grunts. “That’s real good, sweetheart.”
His big hands find your hips and yanks you back. Your spine arches. A startle gasp breaks past your lips s he turns you in a firm grip, spun until your inches away from his chest. His mouth is still glistening with your slick, coating his beard and dribbling down his chin. His eyes are pools of black, the color void as desire drinks him in.
He takes a long look at you. Your flushed face, your shirt hanging uselessly open, your heaving chest, the ruined panties still at your ankles. You’re a damn vision. A seraph standing in front of him– was there an order of angels higher than a seraph? He wasn’t sure. But he knew if there was, it would be you.
His hand stretches out, a devilish glint in his eyes. His voice comes out soft but commanding. “Panties.”
In your flushed state, you were sure just what he wanted. All you could focus on was how he towered over you and the ghost of his cock pressing against you. Your brows knit together, lips parting as pants barrel from your lungs. “What?”
“Gimmie your fukin’ panties, angel.”
Again and again, this man has proven to be able to make you rethink just how red you could turn. With trembling hands and legs, you step out of the ruined fabric. You bend down to pick them up– shaking the entire way, and if he notices, he says nothing– and hand them over to him.
He grins and takes the wet fabric into his hand, holding it as if he was reacquainting himself with something holy. He pockets them. As if it was the most natural thing in the world– like he was just slipping his phone into his pocket.
“That’s my girl.” He murmurs.
His palm flattens against your stomach, feeling your skin as he drags his hand up, settling to cup your breast through your bra. His thumb flicks over your nipple through the lace, a reverent sigh leaving his lips.
You shudder. His hand moves away, settling to bring both of them under your thighs. He lifts you like you’re a feather, easily holding you to his chest. His words slither up your spine and into your ears and around your sex-hazed mind. “Where’s your room, baby?”
Your arms link around his neck, thighs clamping around his waist. He has you settled over his hips. The pressure of hardness in his jeans presses just shy of where you need him. A needy whimper rips from your chest– it’s almost pornographic. When you try to speak, your words come out breathy and stuttering. “Last door on the right.”
When he walks you down the hall, every step brings him just a little closer to you. And you can’t help yourself from trying to grind down on him. He’s thick and heavy through his jeans, straining to burst right through his zipper.
He crosses the hallway in three easy strides, almost tripping over his feet. He kicks in your door, the hinges rattling with the sheer force. It cracks against the wall. The sound ricochets off the walls and your grip on him tightens.
When a ball of fur runs through the doors threshold, Mark stops. It’s a cat– one that looks like a cloud. An actual cloud. All fluffy and zigging down the hall. He tries his best to keep up his sexy, dominant vibe but he breaks.
“You have a cloud.” He chuckles softly.
“Mark.” You whine, grinding down on him.
“Needy little angel.” He chastises, walking into the room and kicking it shut softly. “Just can’t wait to get stuffed, hm?”
He drops his right hand from your thigh, supporting your body weight with one hand. His palm cracks against your ass, the moment of levity burning out like a fire. “Don’t be greedy.”
Mark sets you down, admiring your trembling legs. His voice drops an octave. Command wraps around his words like a dagger in silk. “Get on the bed.”
You obey instantly, stumbling over towards your mattress. Your thighs are still slick and trembling, but you climb up without any hesitation. Need simmers beneath your skin, running through your veins. You want this.
Mark doesn’t follow you right away. He watches. Let his eyes crawl over your body like a starved man at a feast. You spread your legs slightly, giving him an unobstructed view of your glistening cunt, a clear open invitation. A growl leaves his throat, low and vibrating through your very soul.
He drags his shirt over his head in one clean, fluid motion. His hand palms himself, eyes pinning you down onto the bed. His cock is straining against his pants, ready to burst through the fabric of his jeans. The pressure is almost too much to take. His jeans and boxers follow his shirt.
You glance down, and your eyes widen.
Jesus Christ.
That’s a fucking weapon. There’s no way he was gonna fit– anywhere. He’s thick, girthy enough to already feel the stretch in your cunt just from looking at him. He’s veiny, angry red and leaking at the tip. And you’re pretty sure it’s a foot long– okay, that's an overestimate. But he’s definitely above average.
Your mouth waters at the sheer size of him, and the way his hand wraps around the base like he’s barely holding back. Like he’s about a second away from pouncing on you.
“You look scared, angel.” He teases, crawling onto the bed like a predator. His voice is overly smug, but his eyes are burning– brighter than the sun. “You scared?” He asks you, voice mocking as he grips onto your thighs.
He yanks you down the bed, manhandling you with perfect ease. His cock rests right against your thigh, thick and heavy, and somehow bigger. The air that had once been in your lungs felt like it had been punched out, and the only thing you could do was stare up at him.
“Not scared.” Your voice is breathy, slightly higher pitched. Your eyes are locked on his. “Need you, Mark.”
The second the words leave your lips, he’s on you. His mouth crashes against yours, hand coming down to rest against your pubic bone. He kneads your breast with one palm, the other pressing his thumb through your folds and pressing against your clit. He grins into you as your breath catches, pleasure shooting through your veins. Mark’s tongue devours you, licking into your mouth like you’re the first taste of water he’s had in years.
“Gonna ruin this pussy, sweetheart.” He pants, breaking away from your lips, his own dark and bruising. His thumb circles against your clit, pressing with the perfect amount of pressure that has your thighs trying to press together. “But we gotta stretch you out first.”
You whimper, hips chasing his hand.
He grips onto himself with one hand, his other continuing the brutal pace on your bundle of nerves. He nudges the tip of his cock up to your entrance, circling your aching nerves. He collects all the slick dripping from you, groaning as he watches.
Your thighs jolt, a sigh falling from your lips. But it’s not enough. Your chest rises with every batted breath, eyes looking down to watch him.
“Where are your condoms, pretty girl?” He asks, rubbing the head of his cock through your folds.
The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. “W-well, I’m clean..”
Mark stops. Every muscle in his body is pulled taut. A brow raises as he looks down at you, eyes darkening. “Are you asking for something, angel?”
Your cheeks flush a dark pink, mouth openings and closing like somewhat of an idiot. “I mean, I’m just saying that if you wanted to.. I’m clean, I got tested last month–”
He leans over you, pressing a finger to your lips. His voice is low and firm, cutting through any sort of fluff. “Do you want me to fuck this perfect pussy without protection? Use that voice.”
“Yes.” You say shyly, face flushed from need and embarrassment. “I want it raw.”
Mark’s head tilts up, like he’s looking up through your ceiling and into the Heavens. He’s thanking God. He’s thanking every god he could think of. Hell, if she were alive, he’d thank the fucking queen.
An animalistic groan rumbles through his chest. His eyes fall back to you, nodding a little more quickly than he’d like to admit. “We can do that. Christ, you’re lettin’ me ruin you.”
His thumb continues with circling your clit, roughly. Slick sounds of his digit swirling through your wetness fills the room. When his head finally connects back to his body, his eyes narrow down to you. “You make a habit of this, angel? Lettin’ boys fuck you raw?”
Your head shakes, hips bucking up to chase the delicious pressure. “No!” You gasp out. “Just.. fuck, Mark, just want you to.”
Mark’s lips curl into a grin. One so devilish it makes your stomach twist itself into knots. Makes heat erupt between your thighs. He looms over you– shoulders broad and eyes boring straight through your fucking soul.
“Yeah.” He mutters, hand returning to your thigh, ignoring the whimper falling past your lips.. “That’s what I thought. Bet you didn’t let any of those boys between these legs, huh? Too fuckin’ stupid to know what to do with a sweet girl like you.”
His tone had shifted. It’s even more filthy than before. Mocking now. A dire wrapped snarl dragging from somewhere deep in his chest. “Bet they don’t even know how to touch you right. Kiss you all sweet, hump your leg like a dog, then blow their load before they even find your clit. That right baby?”
His grip on your thigh tightens. Your cheeks flush with fire. You squirm, shame licking at your nerves. His words shouldn’t turn you on– but fuck if they don’t. You’d truly never been so turned on in your life. HIs mouth drips with venom, and you’d gladly drink every drop.
You try to look away, the feeling just a bit too much as so much of you is exposed– but his free hand fists your jaw, fingers tipping your chin back towards him.
“Nuh-uh. Look at me when I’m takin’ to you.”
And of course, your eyes flutter up to look at him.
“S’that what happens, angel?” He murmurs, face inches away from yours, hard cock still pressed against your slit. “You get all dressed up, let some fuck stick take you home, and he doesn’t even touch you?”
Your voice is small, feeling like you’re breathing through water. “Yeah.”
He chuckles– the sound low and cruel. “Poor baby.” He coos, but his voice is all too mocking. “Left all needy, soaked, untouched. Don’t even get to cum, do you?”
When you shake your head, he grins like the Devil himself. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ll fix that. I’ll make it up for you, baby.”
Then without a warning, he slides himself into you.
The stretch rips the air from your lungs. Thick and unrelenting, his cock pushes in slow, dragging against your walls with sinful precision. The burn is brutal– just a fraction of a bit too much– and your back arches right off the bed.
Your nails dig into the skin of his back, raking them down his shoulders. Your body trembles as he nudges himself deeper, only waiting a moment between every inch that disappears into your cunt.
“Fuuuuuck” He hisses, his forehead dropping to yours. He stills, letting you adjust to him. “S’fuckin’ tight, angel. Goddamn.”
You gasp out, clutching at anywhere you can touch, legs trembling around his waist. “Fuck– Mark, y’so big, mhmph–”
“Yeah?” He grits out. “This what you need? A cock that’ll break you open?”
You nod, breathless, and already a little fucked out. He starts to move. Slow at first. Measured. But the second he sees your lips parting, eyes rolling back, and feeling your thighs start to shake? He loses whatever shred of control he’d been holding onto.
He snaps his hips forward, grinning when you cry out.
“F-fuck!” You’re gasping now, back arched, hair sticking to the dribble of spit to your chin and cheeks. “Oh my– yes, god.”
“That’s it, angel.” He pants, hands prying your thighs open. “Take it. Be a good fuckin’ girl and take it.”
His pace grows relentless. His hips slam into yours like aman possessed. Your slick coats the inside of your thighs, dripping down and making a mess of the sheets below. Obscene sounds ricochet off the walls each time he drives into you.
His hand migrates from your thigh to thumb your clit, circling and teasing that bundle of nerves until you’re trembling underneath him. He rubs over your clit like he’s done it a million times– knows exactly what to do to have your mind feeling dizzy.
“You feel that?” He pants. “Feel how deep I am?”
You nod, voice caught somewhere deep in your throat.
He sneers, pace staying unrelenting. “Words, angel. Use that pretty voice. I know you can.”
“Y-yes, fuck.. Mark, m’feel it.”
He grins, cock twitching inside you. “That’s right.” He grunts, the sound of skin slapping against skin growing louder. “Yeah you fuckin’ do.”
He leans down, voice barely a whisper against your skin. “Ever take cock so deep before? Hm?”
You whimper, hips twitching, shaking your head. “Never.. No one’s ever– Nnngh, Mark.”
“I know.” He grits, focusing on hitting that perfect spot over and over. “I know, baby.”
He kisses you then. It’s brutal. Teeth and tongue and the heat between you bursting up into flames. He fucks you harder– deeper, driving into you with the precision of a marksmen. His chest is pressed against yours, glistening with sweat and rumbling from every groan and grunt spilling from his lips.
Your orgasm builds, fast and hot and all-consuming. Your walls clench around his cock and you swear you see his eyes actually light up.
“Come on.” He mumbles, fucking you straight over the edge. “Cum on my cock, angel. Need it, baby.”
You fall apart with a scream, nobody locking up and spasming as white hot ecstasy pummels through your veins. Your walls squeeze around him– so tight it makes a guttural moan rip from his chest.
His pace stutters and he pulls out. He wraps a hand around the base of his cock, jerking himself off and coming with a broken groan. Spurts of cum land on your stomach, the heat seeping into your skin.
There's silence for a moment. Just the sound of your ragged breathing. His sweat-slick chest glistening as he looks down at you like he’d just witnessed an angel getting its wings. It feels like years before your pulse returns to normal.
Mark leans over to press a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw. Then your shoulder. Then your sternum. His lips are soft, almost erasing the roughness he’d just been inflicting upon you. And when he speaks, his voice is hoarse. Quiet.
“Told you I’d ruin you.”
You giggle, feeling all too dazed and fucked out. “Yeah.” You murmur softly. “You did.”
“Let’s run you a bath, pretty girl.” He whispers against your skin, hand coming up to rest on your arm. His thumb rubs gentle circles against your skin.
“Okay.”
este yaps some more: hi, honey! you can find my other works here. my requests are currently open. and if you’d like, join the taglist!
summary: in wich a non so innocent dream leads you to have one of the hottest nights with your best friend.
warnings: mature content ahead — 18+ only, minors do not interact. p in v, no protection (be responsible irl okay?), pet names (ma chérie, baby), one use of "y/n"
author's note: i'm a sucker for male!bsf x reader so expect a lot more of this trope
english is not my first language
Movie nights were a common tradition between you and Charles.
You glanced in the mirror, sighed, and splashed some water on your face, using your damp hands to cool your flushed neck. Nerves danced through your body as you gathered the courage to return to the living room where your best friend had been waiting for about 15 minutes. After a silly excuse, you had rushed to the bathroom and stayed there since.
You and Charles had been friends for nearly five years, bonding despite his occasional flirtation. This week’s movie night was no different; you had everything ready—snacks, drinks, a cozy blanket, and the green-eyed boy sprawled on your couch. However, something unusual was about to change the night.
The tingling sensation in your stomach intensified at the mere thought of Charles being beside you, his hand innocently brushing against your thigh or knee as he laughed with his deep voice. These actions were genuine and normal, yet tonight felt different. Why?
The wet dream you had the night before.
Your stupid dream had consumed you all day, flushing your cheeks when you locked eyes with Charles upon his arrival. It wasn’t that you hadn’t had such dreams before; you had woken up sweating and breathless from the obscene images your mind conjured. However, never had Charles been the star of those filthy scenes.
After that vivid image, every desire and attraction you felt for him resurfaced, leaving you craving only one thing: Charles.
“It was just a dream,” you murmured to yourself, steeling your resolve as you opened the bathroom door to return to the sofa. Charles was sprawled out, focused on his phone, oblivious to the emotional storm inside you. But when he noticed you, his green eyes flicked toward your figure.
“Are you okay? You took forever in there,” he exaggerated.
Rolling your eyes at his dramatics, you moved closer to him. He looked so good that you had to suppress the urge to bite your lips—or clench your thighs— Dressed in snug black gym shorts and a matching hoodie, he was undeniably attractive; yet all you could think about was how incredible he looked without clothes in your dream last night.
Nervously, you settled beside Charles just as you had before getting up to go to the bathroom. This time, he draped an arm over your shoulders, pulling you close to his chest. There was nothing unusual about his affection; he was always this way with you, and it never made you uncomfortable—in fact, it was one of the things you liked most about him.
Yet, Charles must have sensed the tension in your body. Perhaps it was because you didn’t return his embrace around his waist as usual or that you remained perfectly still. He tilted his head down, his gaze fixed on you. “What’s wrong? You don't like the movie?”
“No, it’s just that... I’m thinking about something else.” Shyness wasn’t a word that defined you around Charles; your conversations were always open and free of taboos. “I had a really strange dream last night, and I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Charles removed his arm from your shoulders, leaning forward to grab the remote and pause the now forgotten movie. Adjusting to face you, he nodded, inviting you to share. “What was it?”
You hesitated, shifting uncomfortably before sighing and shaking your head, trying to downplay it. “It’s nothing, just a kind of wet dream, but it doesn’t matter.”
Charles laughed, his eyes wide with genuine interest. “Seriously? Come on, you have to tell me!”
“No! Are you crazy? I’m not telling you about my wet dreams, Charles!” It was his turn to roll his eyes at your reluctance, urging you to continue.
“Why not? I’d tell you,” he pressed again. You shook your head, trying to stand up from the sofa in hopes that he would drop the subject. But before you could even attempt to get away, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you back to his side. “y/n! Why not? It’s not like it was with me.”
Your cheeks flushed instantly, and before you could deny it—though you were lying—his green eyes widened in surprise. “Oh my god, you had a wet dream about me!”
“Okay, big deal! Now you have something to tease me about for the rest of your life,” you crossed your arms in defeat, feeling embarrassment wash over you. Despite this, Charles gave you a soft smile as he gently took your hand. His intention wasn’t to make you feel ashamed; he was never mocking you. In fact, the idea that your mind could create something like that involving the two of you sparked a thrill within him and flattered him more than he would admit.
As the playful banter continued, the atmosphere in the room shifted subtly. The teasing laughter faded into a comfortable silence, and you could feel the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. Charles’s gaze lingered on you, his expression a mix of curiosity and something deeper—something that sent a thrill down your spine.
“Hey” he said softly, breaking the silence. “You know I’d never make fun of you for something like that. It’s... kind of flattering, actually.” His voice was low, almost a whisper, and it sent a shiver through you.
You met his gaze, heart racing as you realized how close you were sitting. The warmth radiating from his body was intoxicating, and the tension that had built up between you felt electric. “I didn’t think you’d take it that way,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.
Charles shifted closer, his arm slipping around your shoulders again, pulling you into him. “What if I told you I’ve had dreams about you too?” he said, his breath warm against your ear.
Your breath hitched at his words. “Really?”
“Yeah,” he replied, his voice low and sultry. “And they were a lot more... intense than just dreams.” He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke, igniting a fire within you.
Before you could respond, he turned to face you fully, his green eyes dark with desire. The playful teasing had transformed into something much more serious, and the air around you felt charged with anticipation.
“I'm gonna kiss you right now, is that okay?” he asked softly, searching your eyes for permission.
You nodded slowly, heart pounding as he closed the distance between you. His lips met yours gently at first—soft and tentative—before deepening into something more passionate. You melted against him as his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies.
The kiss ignited a whirlwind of emotions within you—desire, longing, and an overwhelming need for him. You tangled your fingers in his hair as he deepened the kiss, exploring your mouth with a hunger that made your head spin.
As the kiss intensified, Charles shifted slightly, guiding you to lie back on the sofa while he hovered above you. His body pressed against yours felt exhilarating; every touch sent waves of heat coursing through your veins.
“Ma chérie” he murmured against your lips, trailing kisses along your jawline and down to your neck. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”
You gasped softly at his words as he nipped gently at your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Charles…”
He paused for a moment to look into your eyes again, ensuring that this was what you wanted too. You could see the desire burning in his gaze and felt emboldened by it.
“Please,” you whispered, urging him on.
With that encouragement, he captured your lips again with fervor. His hands roamed over your body—tracing along your sides and dipping beneath the hem of your shirt. The sensation of his warm hands against your skin made you arch into him instinctively.
“Is this okay?” he asked between kisses, his voice thick with desire.
“Yes,” you breathed out, feeling bold and eager for more.
Charles pulled back just enough to remove your shirt completely before leaning down to plant soft kisses along your collarbone and down to your chest. Each kiss ignited fire beneath your skin; every touch made you crave him more.
He paused briefly to look up at you again, seeking confirmation in your eyes. You nodded eagerly, feeling emboldened by the heat of the moment.
With a teasing smile playing on his lips, he continued his exploration—his mouth trailing lower until he reached the waistband of your shorts. He looked up at you once more before slowly pulling them down, taking his time as if savoring every moment.
“Charles,” you gasped softly as he moved closer to where you needed him most.
“Just relax,” he whispered.
As Charles kissed his way down your thighs, the anticipation built within you, creating a delicious tension that left you breathless. You could feel your heart racing, each beat echoing in your ears as he took his time, savoring every inch of your skin.
“Charles,” you breathed, your voice a mix of urgency and desire. “Please…”
He looked up at you, his green eyes dark with lust, and smirked playfully. “What do you want, chérie?” His voice was low and teasing, sending shivers down your spine.
“I want you,” you admitted, feeling a rush of heat flood your cheeks. The vulnerability of the moment only heightened your desire for him.
With a soft chuckle, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your core. “You have me,” he murmured before finally pressing his lips against the sensitive skin just above your waistband. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through you, making you arch your back instinctively.
He pulled down your shorts completely, exposing you to him fully. The cool air against your heated skin made you gasp, but the look in Charles's eyes—filled with hunger and admiration—made it all worthwhile.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he said, his voice thick with desire as he took in the sight of you beneath him. His fingers traced along your thighs, exploring every curve and contour as if memorizing the landscape of your body.
“Feels so good” you whimpered softly, feeling desperate for his touch.
He responded by kissing his way back up your body, trailing kisses along your stomach and up to your breasts. His mouth found one of your nipples, swirling his tongue around it before gently sucking. The sensation sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, and you couldn’t help but moan softly.
“Does that feel good?” he asked between kisses, looking up at you with a playful glint in his eye.
“Yes,” you gasped, gripping the fabric of the sofa as pleasure pooled deep within you.
Encouraged by your response, he switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention while his hand traveled lower to tease at your core. His fingers brushed against you lightly at first, testing the waters before he pressed against you more firmly.
“Charles!” You cried out as a wave of pleasure shot through you at his touch. He was skilled and attentive, knowing exactly how to push all the right buttons.
“I love hearing you calling my name,” he whispered as he continued to work his magic on you. With each stroke of his fingers against your sensitive skin, the tension inside you grew tighter until it felt like a coiled spring ready to snap.
“Please… don’t stop,” you begged, feeling yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy.
Charles obliged by quickening his pace, fingers moving in a rhythm that matched the pounding of your heart. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to that sweet release when suddenly he pulled back slightly.
“Are you ready for more?” he asked breathlessly, looking deeply into your eyes as if searching for any hesitation.
“Yes! I need you,” you replied urgently, desperation lacing your words.
With a satisfied grin, he positioned himself between your legs, leaning down to kiss you deeply once more before aligning himself with your entrance. The moment felt electric as he slowly pushed inside you, filling you completely.
You gasped at the sensation—he felt incredible—stretching and filling every part of you. He paused for a moment to let you adjust before starting to move slowly, each thrust sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body.
“Baby” he groaned softly as he found a rhythm that made both of you gasp with pleasure. “You feel amazing.”
You wrapped your legs around him instinctively, pulling him deeper as the heat built between you. Each thrust became more urgent as both of you chased that intoxicating high together.
“Harder,” you urged breathlessly, lost in the sensations coursing through your body.
Charles obliged without hesitation; his movements became more fervent and passionate as he drove deeper into you. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room alongside your shared moans and gasps.
The pressure inside you built higher and higher until it felt like an explosion was imminent. “I’m so close,” you panted, gripping him tightly as pleasure washed over every inch of your body.
“Me too,” he groaned in response, his breath ragged as he continued to thrust into you with abandon.
With one final push from both of you—your bodies moving in perfect harmony—you reached that peak together. Waves of ecstasy crashed over you as Charles buried himself deep within you one last time.
“Fuuuuuck” he called out as he released himself inside you; the warmth spread through every fiber of your being as pleasure coursed through both of you like electricity.
After what felt like an eternity of blissful release, Charles collapsed beside you on the sofa, breathing heavily as he pulled you close into his arms.
“Wow,” he said softly after a moment, still catching his breath. “That was… incredible.”
You smiled lazily up at him, feeling blissfully satisfied yet still buzzing from the intensity of what just happened between the two of you.
Thinking about how Rafe would treat you each season…
Bro was tweakin’ the whole show 😭 Good luck with the mood swings
Also can you tell S2 Rafe is my fav and owns my entire heart? Ok? Ok.
» masterlist
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
Season 1 Rafe treats you horribly. Never there for you even tho you are always there for him. Always thinking about himself.
He can be nice behind closed doors but the second you are with him and his friends he’s cold. He almost acts like you guys aren’t together but if one of his friends flirts with you he throws a tantrum. Also he gets mad when you don’t give him enough attention but he ignores your messages for days.
He snorts cocaine in front of you even tho it makes you uncomfortable… but he doesn’t really care as long as he gets his high. He asks to snort it from your thighs or cleavage as well. If you say no he’ll keep asking until you say yes just to shut him up.
If you’re being all annoying asking him to drive you home he’ll just smear some on your gums.
“Shit. Alright, c’me here baby,” he mumbles and you sit on his lap as he grabs a tiny bit of the powder and uses his fingers to open your mouth. “There you go, baby, good fuckin’ girl.” He chuckles and kisses you. You instantly melt into the kiss, feeling as if the drugs effect melts your body. You’re on top of him the entire night, cuddling up to him, straddling his lap, purring when he kisses you. You’re just so good to him, so devoted when you’re in this state.
He never lets you snort it tho. And he won’t do it again for a long time. He doesn’t want you to be addicted like him.
He calls you in the middle of the night and demands you come over when he’s in the mood. He’ll pick you up but won’t give you a ride home so you’re either staying or walking alone.
He yells Kiara looks hot at Midsummers when you’re right next to him. You’re angry at him but he doesn’t care.
Probably constantly breaking up and getting back together when he has one of his breakdowns and needs you. So he seeks you out. Cries to you about his dad. Cries to you about your relationship. Promises to do better. And you always take him back.
He takes you on motorbike dates, goes way over the speed limit tho.
You are there when his dad kicks him out, he takes his sadness and anger out on you. You are there when he kills the sheriff, and you’re not running away, not telling anyone, you’re keeping your mouth shut. For him. You do a lot of things for him.
Season 2 Rafe aka the most unhinged psycho you’ve ever met is actually nicer to you (worse to everyone else… but nicer to you). He keeps you safe. Never lets you walk alone at night. He basically never ever leaves your side, when he does it’s to do something he doesn’t want you to see.
He keeps you away from Ward and Barry - especially Barry. Until you actually meet Barry and find out he’s cool and funny asf. Rafe is pissed at first but Barry is the only guy he’ll let you hang out with (only in his presence, tho).
Barry starts calling you “Mrs. Country cluuuub.”
Never lets you do drugs again. Not even a little bit. He feels bad for what he did before, smearing it on your gums when you didn’t even really know what he was doing. He won’t admit it out loud, tho. He just won’t allow it again.
He needs to touch you constantly. Hand on your back or your thigh at all times. Holding you close to him. He needs to know feel you’re there.
He swears he’ll buy anything you damn want with the gold.
He still gets mad when he doesn’t get your attention but this time he’ll just take it. He’ll force you to give him attention if he has to. Sometimes he’ll rile you up and piss you off just so that he’s your main focus.
He seeks you out for comfort when he comes to your house all bloody and beaten… whether the blood is his or not is a mystery. He’ll open up to you, he’ll talk about his dad and you’ll comfort him with sweet words, he gets so used to it. Addicted. His dad never listened to him. No one ever listened to him. But you do. He may be in love with you.
He’s possessive. Won’t let you talk to other people, will break anyones bones if they look at you the wrong way. You’re his. And he’s slowly starting to realise that he is yours, too.
“I’ll take care of you. Shit, I’ll fuck up anyone who tries to hurt you, got that?”
He’s harsh about everything he doesn’t like and especially to people he doesn’t like. You better not get in the way when he’s really angry.
He hates it when he makes you cry, but if he’s already pissed off he can’t stop himself from yelling. He never hurt you tho. Maybe a few bruises from gripping your wrist with too much force but nothing intentional.
His eyes soften when you flinch one time. That being the only time he actually somewhat calms down.
Not many peaceful moments with him given how little chill he had in S2 😭 BUT if you guys are just talking, playing with eachothers fingers in the dark and you start talking about your future he melts. You always include him. In all the details and in all the plans. He loves you. He’s sure of it now.
Wheezie absolutely adores you, she gossips about Rafe with you all the time. You guys play board games and he’ll scoff and roll his eyes but Wheezie will force him to join. For 5 minutes. Then he’s like “Fuck this bullshit” (he’s losing) and he leaves. You and Wheezie laugh at him.
He tells you everything, he tells you about how he shot Sarah, how he tried to drown her, how he almost killed Pope, how he hates these fucking Pogues so much and wants them all dead… he’s never saying it calmly, his pupils are dilated, he’s shaking, his words are mixing, he has this look on his face… sometimes he’s so scary. But you never run away from him.
His obsession with making his dad proud slowly turns into an obsession to make you proud. To make you happy. To make sure the gold is fucking yours and anyone who tries to take anything away from you two dies.
I seriously can’t stress enough how Rafe is always obsessed with one person only and does absolutely everything in the world for them. And his focus changes from his dad to you. You’re his priority now. He’ll protect you, not his dad. He’ll make you proud, not his dad. You. You. You.
Season 3 Rafe is an obsessed man. Spoils you. Takes you on fancy dates all the time. Gets you anything you like or anything he likes.
Gets you hot dresses that he’ll rip the same day. You’re actually angry because you liked that dress so he’ll just buy it again.
He doesn’t really know how to express his emotions so he’ll just constantly buy you expensive things just because he can and he’ll keep you close, cuddle you, kiss you, squeeze your waist. Physical contact all the time, basically.
You don’t really fight anymore. But if he does make you angry you’ll wake up to princess treatment the whole day. Food, clothes, jewelry, his attention, anything you want, you got it.
“Can we get a dog?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
… almost anything you want.
You are his priority, always. Always focused on making you secure, safe, happy, proud, satisfied. You don’t have to ask for anything, ever. He’s got you.
Constantly shielding you with his body when you two go out, keeping you close, thumb drawing little circles on your back, his attention on you the entire time.
He’ll take you on boat drives and just chill and make out with you out on the open ocean.
He’s so madly in love with you.
He’s loyal, pushing other people away from him, and he expects the same from you… tho you usually don’t even get the chance to. He’s scaring anyone away the second they look at you.
He doesn’t care about Ward anymore, all he sees is his pretty girl who’s been with him the whole time, through everything. His girl. That didn’t push him away when he was on his lowest. His girl, who didn’t run away from him when he killed people. His girl who makes him feel so warm and fuzzy it actually keeps surprising him.
He wants to marry you, give you everything he has, pay you back for always having his back.
summary: during a cast celebration for Outer Banks at a rooftop bar in Charleston, Drew overhears his best friend expressing her feelings for him.
based on this request
a/n : this is the first time I've ever written a whole story in another language so i'm really nervous about it haha
english is not my first language
The air was thick with excitement as the cast of Outer Banks gathered at a chic rooftop bar in Charleston. The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, and the laughter of friends echoed across the space. Drew leaned against the bar, his usual charm on full display as he bantered with his co-stars. But amidst the lively atmosphere, his gaze kept drifting toward one person: you, his best friend.
You were chatting animatedly with Madison Bailey, your laughter ringing out like music. Drew couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly beautiful you looked tonight. The fitted dress you wore hugged your figure perfectly, and your hair cascaded in soft waves over your shoulders. He felt a familiar warmth spread through him—something deeper than friendship.
As he sipped his drink, he caught snippets of your conversation. “Honestly, I don’t know how he does it,” you said, a hint of awe in your voice. “Drew just looks so good tonight. Like, ridiculously good.”
Drew’s heart raced at your words. He leaned in slightly, pretending to adjust his watch to hear more. “I mean, have you seen those arms?” you continued, a playful lilt in your tone. “It’s like he’s trying to make us all swoon.”
Drew couldn’t suppress the grin that spread across his face. He was flattered but also intrigued by the way you spoke about him—so openly and without hesitation. It was a side of you he hadn’t seen before, and it sent a thrill through him.
With a mischievous glint in his eye, the blue eyed man decided to make his presence known. He pushed off from the bar and approached you both with a confident swagger. “Good enough to make you blush?” he teased, crossing his arms as he leaned against the railing beside you.
You turned abruptly, surprise flashing across your face before it melted into something more sheepish. “Oh! I didn’t think you’d hear that,” you stammered, your cheeks flushing a deep crimson.
Madison grinned knowingly and took a step back, leaving you two alone. “I’ll let you two catch up,” she said with a wink before disappearing into the crowd.
Drew took a step closer, enjoying the way your eyes darted away momentarily before settling back on him. “So,” he said casually, leaning against the railing beside you, “you think I look good tonight?”
You bit your lip, trying to maintain your composure but failing miserably as a smile broke through. “I mean… it’s not just tonight,” you admitted softly, glancing up at him with an intensity that made his heart skip a beat.
“Really?” Drew raised an eyebrow playfully. “So I’ve been looking good all this time? Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”
You laughed nervously, shaking your head as if trying to dismiss the tension building between you. “It’s just… I didn’t want to make things weird.”
“Too late for that,” he said with a smirk, stepping even closer so that he could see every detail of your expression. The city lights twinkled around you both like stars come down to earth.
“Drew…” You hesitated, searching for words that felt stuck in your throat.
“I get it,” he interrupted gently, sensing the weight of the moment hanging between you like an unspoken promise. “We’ve been friends forever, and maybe it’s easier that way.” He paused for effect before adding playfully, “But if I’m being honest? I’ve noticed how you look at me too.”
Your breath hitched at his words—was he really saying what she thought he was saying? “What do you mean?” You tried to sound nonchalant but failed miserably.
He chuckled softly and leaned closer still until there was barely any space left between you two. “You know exactly what I mean,” he said softly, his voice low and teasing yet laced with sincerity.
In that moment, everything shifted. The laughter of friends faded into the background as the world around you narrowed down to just him—his eyes sparkling with mischief and something deeper that made your heart race.
“Okay,” you said finally, emboldened by the intensity of his gaze. “Maybe I have feelings for you.” The admission hung in the air like an electric charge.
Drew’s expression softened as he took another step closer, closing the distance between friendship and something more profound. “Good,” he replied simply but meaningfully. “Because I’ve been waiting for you to say that.”
The air between you crackled with tension now—a mix of excitement and uncertainty swirling min around like confetti in celebration of this newfound revelation. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as he searched your eyes for any sign of hesitation.
“What do we do now?” You asked softly, feeling both exhilarated and nervous about where this would lead.
Drew took a deep breath as if gathering his thoughts before speaking again: “Honestly? I’ve been thinking about this for a while now.” His voice was steady yet filled with emotion.
“Really?” You were surprised; it felt surreal to hear him say that out loud—like a secret shared between best friends suddenly thrust into uncharted territory.
“Yeah,” he admitted sheepishly but with sincerity shining through those dark eyes that always seemed to hold so much depth within them. “I didn’t want to ruin what we have... but every time we hang out or talk or even just text—it feels different now.”
You nodded slowly; everything he said resonated deeply within—you felt it too! Every laugh shared over silly jokes or late-night talks about life had taken on new meaning lately—a shift from platonic comfort toward something more intimate blossoming quietly beneath surface waiting patiently for right moment reveal itself fully.
With a sudden rush of courage fueled by adrenaline and desire, Drew reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear before letting his fingers linger against your skin—a touch that sent shivers down your spine.
“Maybe... Can we try being more than friends?” he asked quietly, searching your eyes for any sign of hesitation.
“Yes,” you breathed out without thinking twice.
The tension broke like a wave crashing against the shore as your «best friend» leaned in closer until there was no space left between you two—his lips brushed against yours softly at first before deepening into something passionate and electric.
As fireworks erupted in the distance above Charleston’s skyline, everything felt right—like this was where both of you were meant to be all along: together.
In that moment under the stars with laughter still echoing around you both, friendship transformed into love—a new beginning written in whispers and stolen kisses beneath a sky full of dreams.
Could you do a friends to lovers with drew starkey? He finds out reader [his best friend] has feelings for him during a night out with the OBX cast. Like she’s chatting with Madison and thinks he won’t hear her talking about how good he looks but he does and like playfully teases her about it?
hiii lovey! absolutely i can. it'll be posted in a couple minutes 🌟
can someone please please please send me fics about both charles and carlos x reader ???? im craving and i'm too lazy to scroll down to the ones i've liked
