wordy

*mini hiatus* 33. she/her. canada. simp for brown eyes. i write when i should be studying. mostly smut. nsfw//18+.

[thewordypeach]

The Last of Us Joel Miller

milk

cream

untitled

Joel and Tommy Miller

flesh without blood

forbidden fruit

Dune Paul Atreides

cherry waves

Death Of A Unicorn Shepard Leopold

nice to each other, part 1

nice to each other, part 2

The Bear Chef Luca

fine line

sugar

[thewordypeach]

hi idk if you take requests currently but i can't find that many will poulter smut anymore and i liked one of your luca smuts a lot! i was wondering if you could possibly create a will poulter x female reader or y/n smut with a dash of angst? if not then that's okay you can write whatever i'll read it either way xd. tysm!

Hi! I do actually have an unfinished/unpublished Will Poulter smut haha. I’ll see what I can do… might take a lil while bc I’m finishing post-sec in a few weeks :) so check back in a bit :)

[robbyafterrounds]

Mmmm the concept of Jack Abbot, holding you tightly in a headlock, your back flush and pressed against his perky chest, his other arm supporting your leg upward as he plows into you repeatedly because he just can’t get enough of your tight pussy contracting around his chubby cock. Whimpers and squeals emit from your mouth as he completely takes over your body, your teeth sinking into his forearm and bicep just enough to leave a mark. “Watch it, kid.” He’ll warn you, flexing his bicep as you take another bite. “Sorry, Jackie,” you whimper, even though you’re not really sorry. Jack is your own little chew toy, and you’re not afraid to show it. 

[richeeduvie]

Nuzzle n' Guzzle (nsfw)

featuring Jack's surprisingly colorful pubes, based on this tidbit. // nothing but some face all up in a fat bulge and filthy talk. and a goodnight cock kiss. And a half-second of choking. actually, it’s a little be of everything. // fic directory // 1.5k word count

You’re both selfish and selfless in the way you rub your face over and against Jack's big ol’ bulge. It's you putting pressure on the thick of him, cheek smushed and only getting sticky with the cum you didn't swallow by mouth or cunt an hour ago.

The stringy, milky-white leftovers from when he flooded your walls are seeping through the groin of his boxer-briefs.

"Sleepy, no more sucking." Jack runs a hand over your hair, and when you glance up, you see his eyes are closed. "My cock's gonna dry out and fall off if there's any more sucking."

His thumb drags light over your cheek.

"What's my needy cunt gonna do then?"

...That would be a tragedy for kiddo's hole, wouldn't it? What a dream that is, to be loved that much when you deserve nothing. Not her greedy cunt, not her whore heart that's full of light. Nothing.

You only brush your cheek up and down his fat, stained bulge. You move your head from left to right to let your other cheek in on the fun.

The top of your head butts him gently. The hold on his thick, lower thighs isn't as light in touch.

For as muscled as Jack is, he can be so, so soft. There's nothing else to make your heart burst and pussy clench around nothing.

"I can't give him thanks?"

Your murmur into his clothed cock, the him you speak of. Jack hums something that's almost a grunt.

His hand makes a fist in your hair.

"Not when you should be sleeping--"

And you revel in the way he pulls as your hands creep up to the corner of his crotch, right near his inner thighs. You'll only worsen with want if you remember when you found out that he's sensitive there.

Your thumbs press in, and even through his tight, tight boxer-briefs, you can feel his thick, curly pubes. He's gonna need a grooming soon, and you're very much looking forward to it.

He's getting much better at sitting through a cutting without his cock springing up.

"You smell so good down here."

And you remember he was so worried that his body was too aged to satisfy you.

"...Yeah?"

It's too much strength for you to put an inch between you and Jack's bulge, but you do it find his throat bobbing with his graveled-voice question.

"Not like sweat?"

You inhale deeply, smiling into his covered, fat tip.

"Oh, I only smell sweat."

"Sleepy, c'mon."

Stop being Daddy's slut and go to bed. Jack would never think he'd ever ask that, but you need shut-eye. He's not sure he has any cum left in him to make him happy, and he can figure out if he does while you're sleeping with your pillowy, perfect ass rubbing up against him. You never mind, right?

No. Kiddo never does.

"Let me just--"

You let your mouth part over his bulge, and it's only a perfect sort of instinct that lets you suck him.

You never get used to that feeling of the dry-ish material becoming wet with your spit, but god...

You think you can taste him through his boxer-briefs. The salt and sweat dried on his soft, fat cock.

"Maybe I can put you to sleep like--ah! Jack--"

With his casual strength, Jack pulls you up to make you nose-to-nose with him in a half-second.

"Damn it, kid. Damn---what's got you so greedy this morning?"

A hard shift where I couldn't rub up against you or find myself destroying the idea of your personal space by seeing if I could climb inside of your ribs. That's what, silly. I'm awful.

"...Please, just a couple more sucks."

With every heavy, but somehow quiet breath Jack takes, his chest expands against your tits. He stares, and it'd be unnerving to everyone else.

Not you. Not today. Not when his veiny, meaty cock is tightly kept in his boxer-briefs. Not when you need it for sleepy, pathetic mouthplay.

You pout, eyes fluttering with a plea, and when Jack only sighs with his face tilting forward to press your forehead to his, you know he can't say no to you. You can't even pretend to be humble.

"...Fine. A couple."

Jack lets go of your hair. He manages to pat and pinch your ass as you make your way back down to continue your boxer-brief bulge suckling.

You think you felt his cock twitch at the restart.

How can a man have such a perfect, thick piece of meat? Only Jack. Only Dr. Abbot. Only Daddy.

"All this stamina, and you still don't think I'm an old fuck--uha--God!"

Jack rubs your shoulders with a head tilting back, and you're sure that's because you've made your mouth particularly tight with pressure and spit over his bulge.

You come up to scold him with a soft pop.

"Enough of that."

Maybe it's stupid to come up with the image while Jack's struggling, with a tightened jaw and another hair pull...but you feel like a fish making bubbles, when it comes to how your mouth moves to pseudo-suck his bulge.

You don't know he's thinking the same thing.

Sleepy's so much of a slut that she's turning herself into a fish with her little, hiccupped, spit-laced gulps. Kiddo's ridiculous. Kiddo's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen when she's like this.

Jeez, this cock bump of his can barely fit in your mouth.

"What's got you...is it Daddy's sweat that's keeping you filthy?"

...You're feeling cheeky. Obviously. The leftover boxer-brief cum on both of your cheeks is enough proof.

"No. It's Dr. Abbot's."

Jack snorts before he swallows. He blinks quickly.

The only thing better than making him cum with pained grunts is making him laugh. Always!

"Yeah...well. How about you give either one a kiss down there and go to bed?"

You slow in your mouthing, looking up with eyes knowing and focused on his plea.

...Okay. You'll let up, only because he's right. Jack tends to be right almost all the time. He's only wrong when he has something bad to say about himself, and when he does that, you can only feel your heart sink...or keep him shushed with your mouth.

You hope the mess you've made, and you're making, is enough to prove to him that he should think himself a perfect man who deserves all the love in the world, and that he should be flattered that you're selfish enough to make him only yours.

You grin, maybe like a dope. You're sure that with the way Jack's smiling thin, he'll call you that later.

"Goodnight, goodnight, goodnight."

You pull the crotch of his boxer-briefs down, and your softens stupidly at the sight of his soft cock staring at you.

...It's practically asking to be sucked and swallowed by your needy walls, but you guess you have to take Jack's word about it falling off if it is. Whatever.

Your eyes go light when you realize your spit managed to seep through enough to wet the shaft and tip. It looks sticky, with tiny bubbles. All you.

Jack pinches your ass one more time. You don't even yelp.

"Admiring your mess?"

"Mhm. And the array of color, as always."

He snorts again, but you think he chokes on the noise when you press your nose into his pubic hairs of grey and slight red.

"What's up with you and my pubic hair?"

You breathe in deeply, taking in the man stench he hasn't been able to wash off yet. Good. But you could laugh at his question.

"What's up with you and my pubic hair?"

You wouldn't want him any younger, but there was a time when he was a gentle-colored redhead, and you dream about those days.

The remnants are here, though, right where you want them to be, right in the thick of it.

You could laugh at that, too.

"...Okay. You got me there. Just...give him a kiss and come up here."

With how delicious the limp, sticky meat of Jack looks, and how hoarse his voice is getting, it doesn't take much for you to listen.

You kiss his pink tip.

You pick a red hair off his shaft.

"C'mon, Sleepy."

You slip down to get a better angle for his fat, low-hanging balls. You pepper kisses to each one.

...And it only takes a second to guzzle them down. Jack won't mind. Jack can never say no to you.

Your tongue reaches his balls before your rounded, parted lips do. It circles before going flat to make him shine, drip, and bubble with saliva, and in another second, he's stuffing your mouth.

"Get. up."

And he's only stuffing your drooling mouth for another, final second before he pulls you up by the neck, his palm wrapping around your throat, and suddenly, you're a little more breathless.

Damn it! Why can he say no to you?

"That's enough. Go to bed."

Jack lets go of your throat, pushing your head into his chest and letting his arm snakes across your back.

He pats your ass. Again.

You pout a moan.

"One day, I'm going to count every freckle that you hate so much down there. Everywhere, actually."

Your eyes narrow up to Jack's face, your nose brushing his jaw.

His eyes are closed. He's somehow settled.

Maybe this really is a good way to put him to sleep.

"Mm. You can do that after you've had eight hours of uninterrupted sleep."

[richeeduvie]

The first time you cockwarm Jack, it's born out of a desperate, amorous, lovey-dovey need rather than trying to humiliate him by making his overstimulated, milked cock rest in the warm cocktail of your tight wet hole and the aftermath of stuffing you with his loads of hot cum. Pun intended.

Well. His overly milked cock rests in the warmth of your pussy, and the creampie he gives you either way...

It's just that the very first time the veiny, thick thing does, you don't want to make him struggle and burn in a fit of post-orgasm playfulness.

...You just wanted to be close to your old man of a doctor. That's it, and when he's twitching inside you, pushing out his ropes of semen, that's where you're the closest to him.

Never let me go, Jack.

It's when Jack's taking ten seconds to hold you with an aching grip after he's finished inside your squishy cunt, you still in the mating press position.

"When did you get this bruise?"

"...M'dunno."

It's Jack's favorite to have you in, if you're not including any position that has your fat ass jiggling and slapping into his balls that are usually still glistening from when you try to guzzle them down, globs of bubbling spit on the fat of him.

He still thinks about when you asked him if you're squishy on the inside. You're perfect. And also, yeah. The guy just didn't think to ever call what waits for his cock past your too-pretty, too-inviting hole "squishy." Kiddo's adorable like that. She's stupid like that.

He manages to place a sweaty kiss on the back of your thigh before he tries to slip out of you, a heavy sigh at his lips.

"Jack--"

And he stills in the hold you're making on his biceps, palms not even making up a quarter of the space on the veined flesh, freckled muscle.

He can't call both the grip you have on him and the tone with which you call out his name playful or teasing.

The first is tight, squeezing the way your needy cunty does. The second...it's not you sounding coy or flirty.

It's kiddo fragile.

Jack swallows, throat burning already.

You watch his head tilt forward, his short curls damp.

"Stay."

You don't mean to make your voice small and bare in the whisper, as it shakes in similiar fashion to the way your legs do when Jack's pounding you to the hilt during the mating press.

He frowns slightly. Do you mean don't get up yet?

He lowers himself, pressing his mouth to your cheek.

“Not going anywhere.”

You shake your head faintly.

“No…I mean—” Your voice falters. You swallow. “Just stay inside me. Like this. Don’t—don’t move yet.”

You squeeze his bicep, eyes fluttering fast, like you could possibly know what that does to him.

“Please.”

Jack stares. Jack blinks.

His pulse spikes through the fucking roof.

...There's not an ounce of that whore-bound lust in your voice, the type that he degrades you to the point of making your little squirting over.

It's just need. You trusting, what he'd call you intimate under him.

So fucking desperate.

Jack swallows.

Desperate little girl. My desperate little nurse. It'd be you to make your slutty, needy pleas something that could make his heart fall apart.

The question he asks comes off as the start to filthy-talk, the beginning of that just-mentioned degradation, but he just wants to know.

"Sleepy, why do you want me to keep myself inside you?"

And what the fuck did you do to be deserving of her wanting you this badly? Nothing.

"You feel...safe."

...Absolutely fucking nothing.

God. Fucking god. Why are you doing this to him?

It's that word that cracks his chest open. Safe. The dangerous things inside of him swell at its use, and he might just swell inside of you again. Your fault. All the perfect whore's fault.

Safety is the only thing he's fixated on giving you. That and his cock. Mouth. Cunt. In between your tits.

I don't believe in God, Kiddo, so let me build a cathedral in your name, and the practice of my filthy religion will be fucking you until tomorrow, keeping you up on the mantle, and never letting you go. Over my dead fucking body.

It's gonna come to that, but that's the least Daddy can do if you're wanting him like this.

"I'm here."

Jack relaxes his hunch from the mating press, lowering to the point he's resting on your chest, and he kisses your jaw and temple as his cock settles in the full, clenching warmth of the cunt he'll need forever.

"Gotta keep her happy, right?"

He puts a finger on your still-swollen clit, just so you know who he's referring to. Well, he's referring to both of you. Kiddo and Kiddo's pussy. It seems like his acceptance has made you both content.

Shouldn't be so easy to keep you happy, shouldn't be so easy to fuse himself to you and erase the air between you. To turn your vulnerability into fuel for his fixations and burning arousal.

But Kiddo's so, so fucking easy. Almost as easy as it is to ruin myself over her.

Jack watches you shut your eyes, a smile coming along your lips dopily.

There's that smile. That's what he's here for. That's what he needs.

"Thank you, Daddy."

Jack coughs, and he can't help that his reply is so goddamned hoarse.

"You're welcome, Sleepy."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

FIC DIRECTORY // Nuzzle n’ Guzzle (nsfw fic)

[esotericcangel]

💭 thinking about adrian chase and how he fucks…

adrian’s balls deep inside of you, panting heavily , a thin sheen of sweat coating his forehead and acting as glue between his skin and sandy curls.

“a—and — oh fuck, yknow hummingbirds can fly backwards— shit!” his words come out panted and strained, your cunt clenching around him everytime he thrusts forward. adrian’s always been that one really, really, brainless guy, but in a way it was also endearing. the only time it wasn’t was now, when his tip was prodding your sweet spot.

“oh my god—adrian, shut the fuck up.” you gasp, nails making crescent shaped marks in his bare alabaster shoulders, because we all know he gets no sun.

“yes ma’am.”

it’s so messy and gross how he sloppily thrusts inside you, and so obviously clearly he’d gotten little to no pussy before you guys started this little.. arrangement.

your moans reverberated off the walls now, louder with each jittery thrust, the headboard of the bed slamming against the wall and no doubt creating a dent.

“it just—hah, funny, we’re like, like spiders, almost. they mate with—multiple other spiders.. and the female spider eats the male after. shit shit shit—“

and then he’s cumming, spilling his load into you and painting your walls white, unable to hold back. he’d never been good at holding out for you. but luckily, you’re not far behind, the warm, full feeling pushing you over the edge as well, adrian’s sweat soaked body slumping lazily next to you on the sheets.

he laughs, out of breath, running a hand through his damp curls, admiring how your boobs look as your chest rises and falls.

“we should do that again,” he says with a wide grin, like a giddy child excited about candy. you only manage a weak nod, sighing and shifting under the duvet.

“just.. don’t eat me.”

he is such an idiot.

[enviedear]

WHEN A GIRL FEELS GOOD—SHE'S GONNA KEEP YOU AROUND

₊ ⊹ ADRIAN CHASE aka VIGILANTE

wc 3.9k | nsfw minors DNI | lowercase intended per usual, adrian chase being the world’s most deranged gentleman, fem!reader, undisclosed age gap, cursing, jealousy, emotional repression turned feral, sugar baby adjacent dynamic, pining, minimal but explicit smut (yeah smut, how dare i, stone me) toward the end (m receiving oral, piv, creampie, praise, probably more but omg the horrors of re-reading your own smut) adrian saying things he should not be saying out loud 🎧ྀི

ADRIAN CHASE has a shit ton of money he won’t touch. it’s actually diabolical. he’s a grown ass man still living with his mommy, working at evergreen’s local chain restaurant fennel fields…but he won’t reap the benefits of the money he obtains via his work as VIGILANTE. it’s nonsensical. lackadaisical.

he has a, albeit strange, strong moral code. and using that money for himself would be, in his words—like, so fucked up. but…then enters you. new teammate. beautiful. younger. and, to put it frankly…struggling.

he tried to be normal about it at first. he tried to mimic the way the rest of the team responded to the financial situation that is your early twenties. adebayo kept agreeing with you empathically, chris was helpfully unhelpful, economos usually either listened or didn’t, and harcourt always gave you the glass half empty approach.

none of that really worked for adrian. because, in his eyes, you were a competent lady! competent ladies do not need to be living paycheck to paycheck! still, it wasn’t until you legitimately broke down in front of the entire team, that he conceptualized a plan.

you tried to keep your watery eyes from meeting any of the faces you had just fought beside. you were beyond embarrassed, but even more so stressed. it was supposed to be an average friday—kill a few pieces of shit, regroup at the base, grab a drink and some food, and then curl up in bed.

instead, you’re stuck at the base. holding everyone up as you try to calm down from the absolutely demonic call you just received from a financial loan officer.

“hey,” you hear adebayo start, “don’t stress about it. loan officers, like, always ruin days. it’s like their secondary job.”

you groan.

a chortle from chris, “listen kid, the podcast i listened to a few weeks ago totally said NFTS are coming back. invest or something.” then he hums, “you think people would be into a peacemaker NFT?”

economos looks up from his computer to glare at chris. then goes back to furiously typing.

harcourt shrugs, “listen. everyone has debt. and everyone who doesn’t is usually harping at you to repay yours. what really matters is me getting a beer, you can be a long neck at the bar. c’mon.”

you nod, noncommittal, “nah it’s fine. you guys can go. i think i’ll try to make something at home.” and then a smile, “but next time definitely.”

and with that you shove your phone in your pocket, slug your too-heavy tote over your shoulder and walk out into the parking lot. swerving away in your shitty suv.

for an entire two minutes, adrian is silent. really, he’s thinking hard. doesn’t even comment on the first few seconds of conversation with chris and adebayo while in the car on the way to the bar.

he gets his idea quickly, and from there it branches. a little after two beers, more after four, and then the most of it back at his mom’s place—even with the interruption of her trying to follow him down to his secret room.

he stares down years’ worth of blood money…and grins like a maniac. because, duh! he can be a fucking robin hood to you! fuckin' perfect plan.

he thinks far too long about what you might get with some of this money—more tight shirts? that perfume you always wear? knives? printed scrunchies? he selfishly wants you to wear a spider-print scrunchie.

and sure, you’ll probably use most of it for debt (boring), but god—he really hopes you use it for things you actually want. you deserve it!

he gets weird about it immediately. like, mission prep weird. spreadsheets, mental calculations, cross-referencing the average rent in evergreen with your hourly wage (that he definitely shouldn’t know), then subtracting an estimated amount for groceries, gas, and girl stuff. he has no idea what girl stuff costs, but assumes it’s a lot.

he even googles 'what’s a normal amount of money to anonymously gift a financially struggling teammate without making it seem like you’re in love with them' and gets nothing useful. he posts to reddit and gets called a 'useless simp'.

he ignores that.

by sunday afternoon, you find an envelope shoved into your mailbox. unmarked. no note. nothing in it…but a thick stack of bills wrapped in a rubber band. you stand there staring at it like it might explode.

you bring it inside. lock the door. count it twice. and then a third time because there’s no way someone accidentally gives you that much cash.

you don’t mention it to anyone for a week.

but adrian? he’s dying.

he watches you walk into the base with your usual drink and tote, acting normal, and it’s driving him insane. because you’re supposed to be happy. relieved. overjoyed by the gift from your mysterious benefactor. but you’re not reacting.

so when harcourt tells you you’re up for some bullshit recon duty, adrian blurts out, “you seem like you’re in a really good mood lately.”

you blink, “…i literally just got here.”

he nods too fast, “right. yeah. you just—you seem, like, lighter. emotionally. maybe you…got rid of something that was weighing you down? like debt? or whatever.”

you squint at him, “what are you talking about?”

he panics, “uh...what are you talking about?”

later that day, you finally pull him aside and away from the rest of the team, “did you...” you hesitate, searching his face, “leave something in my mailbox?”

he freezes. his brain short-circuits,“like what?”

“you tell me, vigilante.”

his pupils blow wide behind the glasses. “whoa, okay. that’s a huge accusation, and honestly kind of rude. i mean, just because i’m a known local hero with a very well documented pattern of doing objectively good deeds for struggling citizens—”

“adrian.” you cut him off, eyes narrowed.

“…maybe.”

you exhale. “why?”

he shrugs helplessly, tone softening, like he’s embarrassed to admit it.

“you looked sad. i don’t like when you look sad.”

you open your mouth to argue, but something about the sincerity in his voice makes you stop. he’s not teasing. he’s not pitying you. he just means it.

and, god help you, that makes it worse. he's too strangely sweet for his own good.

“you can’t just…give people money, adrian.”

“why not? i do it all the time to crime victims.”

“i’m not a crime victim.”

“well.” he tilts his head, thinks, “technically, capitalism.”

you groan. “oh my god.”

he grins, pleased with himself.

and that’s how it starts—the quiet, unspoken arrangement. the envelopes that show up when you’re short on rent. the random new gadgets or outfits he insists you “definitely didn’t get from vigilante.”

it’s sweet. somewhat sugar baby-ish in your mind…but sweet. you’ve never really had a guy give you money, much less for entirely nothing in return.

and in truth, adrian really did think he wanted nothing from you. but then he happens to stop by your place at the absolute worst time.

he’s done this before, late-night drop-offs, quick and silent, envelope slipped beneath your door before he can second-guess it. it’s supposed to be quick. no conversation. no risk of being caught. just a little extra—because he saw you eyeing something online last week, and you deserve it.

but then he sees the light on in your living room window.

he hesitates. it’s fine, he’ll just leave it by the door and go. but when he hears movement—your laugh, soft and easy—his brain short circuits. he should leave. he should.

instead, he knocks.

you open the door halfway done up. hair styled, a gloss on your lips that’s catching the light, and a fitted dress that makes his throat go dry.

“adrian?”

he blinks too long, “oh! hey! what a coincidence. i was just, uh, out for a drive. night air’s, like, good for stress.”

“you drove here?” you ask. “from work?”

“yeah. needed to…uh…decompress. lots of dishes. saw your house. thought, hey! i know that address!” he lifts the envelope like it’s totally casual, and also this was, uh, misdelivered.”

you blink, “to you?”

“no, no, no, not to me, that’d be stupid. to…a mailbox nearby. but then i realized it was yours. so i’m giving it to you.”

you just stare at him.

his eyes flick over you again, landing on your heels, “you’re going somewhere?”

“yeah. i’ve got plans.”

“oh, plans. right, right, yeah. that’s cool. plans are…nice.” a beat, “like, a date plan?”

you tilt your head, “yeah?”

he laughs under his breath. “oh, cool! yeah, no, that’s awesome. i love that for you. love…when people…do that.”

“you good, adrian?”

“me? yeah! yeah, no, i’m great. i just, y’know, some guys don’t…appreciate when women wear, uh, specific things. like, they don’t notice that the outfit is, uh, really flattering. and new.”

you blink, “…what?”

“nothing.”

you narrow your eyes, “are you seriously getting weird about this?”

“weird? i’m not weird. you’re being weird.”

you fold your arms, “you came to my house at night to give me a mystery envelope and now you’re grilling me about my outfit.”

his jaw tightens, “i’m not grilling. i’m just…noticing.”

“you’re acting jealous.”

he scoffs, “jealous? pfft. no. i’m not jealous. i’m just saying, it’s kind of insane that you’re going out with some random guy wearing stuff that—uh—y’know—someone worked really hard to pay for. hypothetically.”

you stare, “what the fuck does that mean?”

“nothing!” he says quickly. then under his breath, “it’s just a little weird.”

“weird? adrian, what—are you high right now?”

“no! and i’m not being weird!” his voice cracks, “you’re the one being weird! you’re out here…using it for, like, dates and shit!”

you blink, “using it? what, am i supposed to ask your permission now before i spend the money you keep shoving at me?”

“i never said that!”

“it’s kinda sounding like you did.”

he waves his hands, too fast, “no! it’s just, look! i gave you that money because you were sad! and struggling! and i didn’t want you to feel like…you know, like life was punching you in the gut every day. i wasn’t doing it so you could go get dinner with some random asshole!”

your mouth falls open, “you don’t even know him.”

“i don’t need to know him! he’s not me!”

that hangs in the air. too long. too loud.

you blink, slowly, “…what?”

he rubs the back of his neck. “i mean. not that he should be me. that’d be super egotistical. more like, i recycle. does he even recycle? i just—ugh, god, this is so confusing.”

“yeah? try me.”

“i didn’t do this because i wanted, like, a sugar baby situation! i didn’t! that’s gross! i did it because you were crying, and i hate it when you cry, and then you looked happy again, and now you’re happy for a totally different reason, and—”

“adrian.”

“—and it’s freaking me out!”

you just stare at him, “you like me.”

his mouth opens. shuts. opens again. “that’s a, wow, uh, really oversimplified interpretation of a…complex emotional…thing.”

“that’s a yes.” you deadpan.

he’s red now, “okay, maybe i like you! big deal! you’re pretty, and smart, and you actually listen when i talk about animals, and you don’t yell when i eat in your car. who wouldn’t like you?”

you exhale through a disbelieving laugh, “jesus christ.”

he looks panicked, “i mean, is that really such a bad thing?”

you shake your head, taking one step closer. “no. but you’re…so stupid sometimes.”

“i wouldn’t say that.”

“and you’re jealous.”

“i’m definitely not—” he stops, sees your look, deflates, “okay. maybe a little.”

you tilt your head, smile creeping up, “you could’ve just said something.”

“i didn’t want you to think you owed me.”

“i know i don’t.”

he nods quickly, “right! you don’t! totally equal! fucking, stellar friendship right here!”

you study him. the flushed face, the nervous fidgeting, the way his mouth keeps opening like he’s trying to say something smart and failing, “sure,” you say finally, voice flat. “friendship. if that’s really what this is.”

his brows furrow, “what else would it be?”

you take a slow step closer, eyes dragging over him. “i don’t know, adrian. you tell me. because friends don’t usually leave envelopes of cash in each other’s mailboxes.”

he laughs, nervous and a little too loud, “that sounds like a totally normal friendship! i mean, what else would it be? it’s not like a thing.”

you tilt your head, “a thing?”

“yeah, like—some creepy older guy pays you thing. which it’s not! because that’d be super unethical. and illegal, probably. i’m not a creep. i just—” he gestures vaguely, flustered, “had extra money. and you were sad. and i thought, hey, maybe i can redistribute some dollars to my younger, super capable, definitely not my sugar baby coworker. like any good person would.”

you stare, “you do hear yourself, right?”

“yeah,” he says, proud. “it sounds pretty noble when i say it out loud.”

you huff a laugh, something between disbelief and affection, before grabbing his collar and kissing him before he can make it worse.

he goes still. then he makes this little noise—half surprise, half groan—and kisses you back like it’s instinct. messy. eager. too much all at once.

when you pull back, his breathing’s ragged, glasses slightly crooked.

“oh.” he says softly.

you smirk, “yeah. oh.”

he grins, eyes dazed, “okay, uh…so i’m kinda into you.”

you laugh against his chest, “yeah, genius. i noticed.”

he tilts his head. “does this mean the money thing is over?”

you look up at him, “nah, we’ll just renegotiate the terms.”

“…does renegotiation include more kissing? because i’m really into that, but i’d prefer it in more of a committed way. y’know?”

“shut up, adrian.”

“mhm, yeah, okay.”

he blinks. then grins, dazed, and kisses you again, more sure this time. clumsy, hungry. every sound you make has him pulling closer, like he can’t quite believe you’re letting him.

somewhere in the mess of it, he murmurs, “so does this mean i’m not, like, a weird sugar daddy anymore?”

you pull back, breathless, “you were never a sugar daddy.”

he frowns, genuinely confused, “if we're being honset now, i kinda was. i mean, technically speaking. i gave you money for stuff you needed. i just didn’t ask for the—y’know—usual sugar daddy activities.”

you laugh, half-exasperated, “we could have also been engaging in those activities if you didn't try to be so secretive and weird about it.” a smirk, “what? are you gonna tell me you never wanted to?”

he tilts his head, frowns a little like it’s a stupid question. “uh, no, i did. obviously.”

you blink. “obviously?”

“yeah,” he says, dead serious, “you’re hot. i have eyes. not really sure why we’re pretending i wouldn’t want to fuck you.”

your breath catches, “wow. okay.”

“what?” he asks, like you’re the weird one. “i think about it sometimes. not, like, all the time. i’m not a freak. just, like, normal…healthy intervals. couple times a week.”

“adrian—”

“what? that’s fine! people do that. i googled it once.”

you bite back a laugh, stepping closer, “so, what, all that money, all those little speeches…you didn’t think maybe you were doing it because you were into me?”

“no,” he says simply. “i just wanted to help. but then you started smiling again and i was like, ‘oh no, shit, she’s really pretty when she’s happy.’ and now here we are, talking about sex.”

you snort, “you’re unreal.”

“no, i’m literally right here,” he says automatically, hands hovering near your hips before settling there. he’s closer now, and when you lean in, his voice drops—not practiced, not slick. just him.

“but, uh…if we’re renegotiating, i’m cool with still doing it even if you know i'm into you. because i like this part. the kissing. and, y’know…anything else that might come after.”

you hum, fingers slipping into his hair, “oh yeah?”

“yeah,” he says without hesitation, “like, if we did this again but, uh, horizontal…i wouldn’t hate it.”

you laugh against his mouth, shaking your head, “you’re supposed to be coy about it.”

“why? you already know i want to.” he shrugs, “unless you’re still going on that date because in that case i would like to remind you this other dude probably doesn’t fucking recycle and i can legally kill him for that.”

you roll your eyes, “you’re something else.”

“yeah.” he says, grinning crooked now, “but, uh…do you want me to fuck you? like, right now? in a respectable, totally consensual way. because you deserve to feel good.” his grin tilts wider. “because i can do that. make you feel financially good and physically good. with, y’know, actual orgasms and shit.”

his words hang there, dumb and earnest all at once, but they still send a spark through you. adrian’s hands are warm on your hips, thumbs brushing under your shirt, tentative and somehow still greedy.

he swallows hard, eyes darting from your mouth to your chest and back again. “i mean, unless this is, like, a bad time? because i didn’t bring protection or anything, i can run home, it’s like a fifteen minute drive without traffic—”

“adrian.”

“right, yeah, shutting up.”

and that's all it takes for you to tug at his curls, pulling his mouth back to yours. the kiss hits fast. sloppy, warm, desperate. he groans into it, hands sliding higher, clumsy but sure. his hips press forward, and you feel him, hard against your thigh, his breath stuttering like he can’t believe any of this is happening.

“bedroom?” you murmur against his lips, already backing toward the hallway leading to your room.

adrian nods, eyes wide and dark behind his now crooked glasses, “yeah. fuck yes.”

he follows, hands never leaving you. he sticks to you like static, hands sliding up your sides. he can’t stop cupping your breasts from over your dress. and his thumbs keep circling your nipples through the fabric, making them peak hard. all the while, unblinking perverted focus on his face.

upon entering your room, the tiny shoebox it is, you nod toward the bed before shoving him down onto it.

he bounces once—immediately reaches for the buttons of his work shirt to pull it free from his form—and then props himself on his elbows, watching you with that manic grin. you strip off your dress, tossing it aside, and his gaze locks on your bare chest.

“holy shit. no bra.” he breathes, sitting up to reach for you.

you roll your eyes but mimic him anyway, “no bra.”

his mouth finds your skin immediately—kissing the swell of one breast, then sucking the nipple into his mouth. you arch into it, hand fisting his hair as he licks, tongue flicking rough and eager.

you realize, how much he must not be able to help the way he takes. he probably wanted it for longer than he even realized. his mind, to you, is a mystery. but his actions…well those are tangible. and in turn, make him absolutely fucking shameless.

he switches sides, giving the other the same treatment, his free hand kneading your ass, pulling you closer until you're straddling his lap.

you grind down, feeling his cock throb against your core through the layer of his jeans.

“pants off.” you request, eyes flickering from his own to the rise and fall of his chest.

adrian doesn't hesitate. he kicks off his shoes, then yanks at his belt, shoving his jeans and boxers down in one go. you'd call him desperate if he didn’t look so hungry for it. and a bit insane, too.

you didn’t know people could want so badly. but then again, maybe that’s just an adrian thing.

his cock springs free, all veiny and long, the head already slick with pre-cum. it's bigger than you expected, curving slightly up, and he strokes it once, almost shyly, before looking up at you.

your turn. you shimmy out of your panties, kicking them away. naked now, you climb back on, skin to skin. he stares, hands roaming roughly—over your thighs, your stomach, up to squeeze your tits again.

“you're so fucking hot.” he mutters, voice wrecked.

you push him flat on his back, kissing down his chest. his skin is warm, a soft trail of hair leading down to where his cock stands rigid. you wrap your hand around the base, giving a slow pump, and he bucks up with a hiss that morphs into a whimper.

“shit! wait, can i—“ he starts, flustered.

“shush.” you say, lowering your mouth. your tongue swirls over the tip, tasting salt, before you take him in deep. he moans loud, fingers at the top of your head—not pushing, just holding on as you bob up and down.

saliva slicks him up, your hand twisting at the base, and he thrusts shallowly, cursing under his breath. he turns into a mess so easily for you.

“i think i might—well fuuck, if you keep that shit up…” he trails off with a moan that’s more of a laugh, eyes wide.

you pull off with a pop, smirking at his flushed face, “not yet.”

straddling him again, you line him up, rubbing the head along your wet folds. you're soaked, arousal slicking your thighs, and when you sink down, he fucking stills. eyes blown. hands frozen at your hips.

you let him stretch you wide. inch by inch, until he's buried to the hilt, your pussy clenching around his thickness.

and then, finally, like his entire brain rebooted—synapses finally firing—his hands grip your hips hard, eyes squeezing shut, “oh fuck you—all tight and shit, so good. fuckin’ weirdo. weirdo with a perfect pussy.”

and with that, you start moving. you roll your hips in a slow grind at first, feeling every ridge and inch drag inside you. he watches, mesmerized, then thrusts up to meet you, trying to set a rhythm. skin slaps skin, wet and obscene, your clit grinding against the stubble of his pelvis with each drop.

“fuck—harder.” you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders.

he flips you suddenly, always stronger than he looks—and ready to please—pinning you under him.

he has the nerve to hum, “statistically, this is like…a really good angle.”

his glasses fog up from his breath as he drives in deep, pulling your legs up. the angle hits perfectly, his cock pounding your deepest spot relentlessly. you whine his name, walls fluttering, as you chase the build.

adrian leans down, mouth on your neck like a rabid animal, sucking marks as he fucks you faster, “like that? you sound like you wanna cum for me.” he pulls back, eyes locked right onto your own. he looks crazed, “oh god, look at you—you are! come on, cum for me.”

his thumb finds your clit, rubbing circles, and it's enough, you shatter, spasming around him, milking his dick as waves crash through you.

he follows a few thrusts later, loudly and whimpering your name, hips stuttering as he pumps hot cum deep inside. he accentuates each after stroke with a lazy half moan, half chuckle. filling you up until it leaks out around him. his eyes all hazy and wide the entire time.

you both collapse, panting, his weight welcomed, heavy, and perfect on you. he kisses your shoulder, meeker now, “that was…hmm.” he trails off with a grin. his eyes flutter shut as huffs out, “renegotiated?”

you laugh, pulling him closer, “yeah. definitely.”

author's note | guys this was supposed to be a blurb idk how i kept writng. i genuinely could not be assed to make this smut better lmao. i suck so bad at writing it, like i stfg all my smut is the same bs...HOWEVER, i do think i somewhat got his voice to come through. just trial and error babes. but lmk if you liked my convoluted sugar baby au!!! i hope you did bc it's been plaguing my mind ever since ep six.

[spoolofgreen]

[irisnextdoor]

Adrian Chase not wanting to stop when eating you out because that’s what best friends do!!🫠

“Hey,” Adrian whimpered. The lower half of his face dripping with slick, his lips parted as he took deep breath after deep breath. His hair was brushed back, your fist full of his curled hair—it was the only way you could get him to actually stop, pulling him back forcefully. He looked up at you through the top of his silver rims, his glasses crooked over his cheeks.

“You alright?” Adrian questioned as you pulled his head away from your overworked cunt. As if to comfort you, his grip on your thighs tightened momentarily. He needed to know you were alright to continue. Needed that green-light to keep going. This bonding session is serious to him—you are his best friend in the whole wide world, after all. “You’ll let me keep going, yea?”

See, you would’ve agreed half an hour ago, and not when you were two orgasms in, teetering on your third. Your entire body was shaking, your breathing erratic and your heartbeat was going at a concerning rate. The fire in the pit of your stomach never lessened.

“Ain’t you tired?” You asked, attempting to reach out to Adrian, acting (though, you really were) concerned. “No,” he shook his head quickly and almost immediately. “You’d be able to tell, right? My best friend would know if I was getting tired.” Of course you’d be able to tell when he was getting tired! What a silly question.

Adrian Chase looked out for his best friend. Adrian Chase made sure his BFF never felt unsatisfied; emotionally, physically, or sexually. That’s what best friends do, right?

You whined, throwing your head back, looking up at the ceiling before closing your eyes. “I’ll be quick, I promise. I’d never lie to you.” He just lied.

He pressed a delicate kiss onto your clit before dragging his tongue over your folds, looking up at you as he did so. “Hurry up,” you mumbled, giving Adrian the green light he so desperately needed. “Yes, ma’am.”

I am so serious when I say this Adrian Chase might be rhe closest man to my dream husband Baby please come home!! the cats miss you!!

[ladythedrunken]

[superhoeva]

adrian and you settling a bet that you can't do 100 squats on his dick.

stupid? maybe. a waste of time? no doubt.

cut to you hanging over him on his bed while he stares up at you, counting under his breath while you bounce in his lap.

"oh, wait! fuck, fuck fuck, fuck, fuck," he rushes out with a wrinkled face, pulling himself out just as he spurts out several ropes of thick cum. choking a frustrated groan, adrian curses. "shit. it's okay, it's okay. we can keep going. my penis has the ability to stay erect for an impressive amount of time. it's hereditary. thanks pop pop–"

"please don't talk about your pop pop if you want to continue fucking me."

adrian frowns, holding your hip. "this isn't fucking. we're not fucking, we're betting... which, now that i think about it, you've won by default because i climaxed. but. it actually does feel pretty good and–you're a great rider, props to you–it would literally be so rude to stop before you got to experience the beauty of climaxing."

blinking at the toothy grin he finishes speaking with, you mumble a quiet fine and slide him back inside, trying not to whine as the thick of his head splits you open.

you grind instead of bounce this time while adrian relaxes into the mattress. his palms drag against you, resuming his quiet counting.

"53... 54... 55–oh, i liked that one. 56... 57... 58..."

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[thewordypeach]

Do you ever think you'll make a part 3 for nice to each other?

I’ve thought writing one where Shepard is healed can have his “revenge” 🥵

[cryptic-doe]

big summer for all of those who love the dumb and pretty boys !!

need them to two man me.. WHOA who said that ??

[xxxxxxxxdeactivated-deactivated]

Adrian chase who’s weirdly specific about where you guys get to have sex. When you first tried to fuck him in public, he simply grabbed your hand and said, “Uh-uh missy. That’s illegal.”

Vigilante who lets you fuck him in the suit because he’s too desperate to pull it off.

Vigilante who is so deeply enamoured with you that he’d do anything for your approval.

Adrian Chase who doesn’t have a favourite position, and so any time you guys fuck he’s just dragging you around like a rag doll on his cock.

Vigilante who whines when you tell him to keep the mask on and fuck you like he means it, thrusting harshly into you while he sobs in your neck.

Adrian chase who gets all dumb for you, tongue lolling out and drooling whenever you ride him.

Vigilante who almost always cums too early, whimpering into your mouth, but no worries, cause he’s got great stamina, and will keep fucking up into you.

Also— Adrian chase cries when he puts it in.

[missmanlykink]

when adrian wants you to cockwarm him but you just want him to fuck you ✿ | MDNI 18+

MDNI - 18+ | navigation - m.list - taglist 𝜗୧ | REQUEST OPEN ! (𝐦𝐲 ‘𝟐𝟓 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 !)

warning: afab!reader, smut, cockwarming, adrian is loud *bites lip*, pet name (baby)

a/n: 1. am i sicko for restarting the scenes where his dick got electrocuted and the cutting of his pink toe…2. this is was lowk based off of jury duty

“Adrian! I told you I hated this shit. Either fuck me or don't," you fuss, watching him line himself up with your entrance. “Pleasee, let’s just try again! I wanna be inside you,” he whines. 

Before you argue with him, your breath hitches. The head of his cock pressing into your sensitive pussy, he is shockingly big. He leans down to the crook of your neck, whimpering into your ear. Your eyes pinch together as he inches himself deeper inside you.

"Fuck- you’re so tight-" he mutters. But he stays there, not moving an inch. Teasing you internally, and you hate it. Your legs are hooked around his waist, hand playing with his hair at the nape of his neck.

Honestly, you’re bored. You don’t know why he wanted to do this all the time, but you want to have semi-normal sex. So you clenched around him as hard as possible. He let out a quick gasp, squeezing onto your hips. “S-Shit! You can’t do that,” he whimpered. 

You did it again, and out poured those pretty little whines. He’s trying his hardest to contain himself from drilling into your soaking cunt. “C’mon, baby. I know you want to…" you coax, tracing your fingers up his neck. The nickname made him shudder.

“Fuck me.“ The look in your eyes got him. Shortly after that, you were practically screaming his name as if you were in some porno. All you heard from the room was loud moaning, sloppy wet noises, and skin clapping against each other.

this blog is 18+, do not copy my work for anything without my permission ꔫ / dividers by @uzmacchiato % @diviniyae

[wooowsworld]

Chef Luca Random Headcanon

NSFW/SFW

Random thoughts

NSFW/SFW

Just random things lol

I feel like he likes older women. Like at least 10 years older than him. He reminds me alot of men who like older women with kids. Like the stereotypical late 20 year old early 30 year old blue collar who dates the older single mother with kids

Hes not into astrology but I feel like he has Aquarius Leo and Virgo in his big three. The perfectionist gives Virgo. The hardworking and awkward reminds me of aquarius. The hair and hotness reminds me of Leo.

He gives me foot fetish vibes. He really likes feet. If youre hanging out he will be massaging your feet or want your feet on his face. He likes to casually suck a toe while scrolling on his phone. During sex especially during missionary, he'll put you legs over your shoulder and suck your toes while having sex. You'd be a little off about it at first but soon you'd like it.

He loves sex hes a big o freak. At first he'll respect your boundaries and kinda test the waters but once you both are comfortable prepare to have the best sex of your life.

Hes a giver and can be down there for hours. He'd make you come 8 times alone just by going down on you. You could be on your phone and he'll, consentfully, pull your panties to the side and go down on you. Before bed and after a shower you dont even bother putting clothes on because you know Luca is waiting patiently for you to sit on his face. Luca being the true eater he is also eats ass. At first it catches you off guard but you end up liking it alot actually.

He loves to use toys in bed like a lot. When yall do doggy he puts a vibrator on your clit and it makes you go crazy. Sometimes he'll buy different sex toys to test them out on you to see if you like them. Luca will call you into the bedroom and have the toys spread on the bed. Youre excited to see how the night will end. You take off your clothes and sit on his lap. Hell try each toy on you and note your reaction. One time he used the rose toy on you during missionary and you swear you saw stars. Luca swears you were screaming and crying his name.

I feel like Luca is a quiet guy. He can hold a conversation quite well and chat with people but prefers to keep to himself. It took him forever to build the courage to talk to you. Once he gets comfortable with you he won't shut up. He can talk for hours.

During sex though he finds out you like dirty talk and he makes sure to fulfill that for you. He'll whisper dirty nasty things in your ear that'll make you go crazy. "Taking my cock so well baby" "such a slut for my cock aren't you" he says as you fucks your mouth.

Luca forgets hes a big guy sometimes. When you first start living together he has to get used to sharing the bed. Often he'll be sprawled all over the bed and you have to wake him up and remind him that you need to lay in that bed too. When you guys cuddle he likes wrapping you in his arms but you have to remind him not to hug you so tight.

Lucas likes to be in the presence of women. Perhaps he was bullied a lot by boys growing up because of how tall he is and girls were only nice to him. Hes the only guy out of the girl friend group. Yall remember the straight guy in middle school who hung out with all the girls and everyone thought he was gay, yeah thats Luca. At parties or family gatherings, hes the one helping the women in the kitchen while the boys are out watching football.

Talking about women, hes very close to the women in his family. He gives me grandmas boy. For some reason I think he and his sister were given up for adoption or mom couldn't take care of them anymore so grandma stepped in to take care of them which makes sense why he had a troubled upbringing.

Grandma taught him the basic of cooking abd he would always help her out in the kitchen. When she passed he did not take it well at all. He started drinking a lot to the point that it affected work. He got help and then decided to quit drinking which is why you don't see him drinking in the show.

He loves to help you in the kitchen obviously. If he sees you cooking he'll step in to help cook or wash dishes. Your family is amazed by him helping you out.

His love languages are words of affirmation and acts of services. After a rough round of sex he'll make sure to take care of you. Hell clean you up and run a bath for the both of you. Hell wash your hair in the bath. After the bath he'll dry you up do your skincare. Blow dry your hair and style it for you if you'd like that. Put lotion all over your body put some clothes on you and put you back to bed. Hell bring you snacks and water.

[usedtobecooler]

there’s something so special to me about the idea of being the person who breaks steve harrington’s dry spell.

and he’s so whiny and pathetic about it, cramped up with you on your twin bed, because heaven knew college dorms didn’t have space for a queen — his hips pushing up in little aborted thrusts almost uncontrollably as your spit-and-pre slick hand works him up and down. he’s soaking, blurting out sticky beads with every squeeze of your hand at his sensitive tip.

“fuuuuuck,” he’s moaning, dry throat clicking as the words stumble out, gravelly and desperate, “feels so good, need more— babygirl, please.”

it’s so easy to slide down the length of him, your hot insides taking him inch by inch like it’s nothing, like he’s not so thick that you can feel him pulsing in you, like one clench will set him off with no stopping. you throw your head back, moaning quietly as you begin bouncing up and down, rocking on him with a feverish desperation.

it’s like steve can’t control himself, head thrown back and that gorgeous, mole-flecked neck bared as he bites back on choked up moans, his massive hands gripping onto the fat of your waist to keep you moving. he’s using you as leverage to thrust his hips up into yours, the wet clicking sounds of soaked bodies filling the space left between agonised moans.

he’s all-consuming, the bitten off cries that spill from steve’s plush lips as he finally opens his eyes to look at you, watches you in awe with those fucking eyes that made you melt for him in the first place, “oh fuck,” he groans, watches where your bodies meet like he’s hungry for it, “lemme cum inside, please, baby i can’t stop it.”

it’s violent, the way your orgasm is ripped from you at those very words, the way he looks at you in some sort of ecstasy as you shudder and cry out, deep heat blooming in your core and making your body shake.

“yeah, yeah, so hot, god baby—“ steve rocks your hips back and forth with a grip so hard that you know his fingers will leave bruises, grinding up into you so filthy and deep that you feel the way his length jerks as he spills inside of you, gasping like he can’t catch a breath — forcing you down so you can’t wiggle away from the overstimulation.