Diagram I made to explain the importance of me having a hyperfixation at all times
Many people seem to have the misunderstanding that if one doesn’t have a hyperfixation, they will have more time to think normal thoughts. This however, is incorrect. The amount of normal thoughts thunk by the average neurodivergent stays relatively the same, it’s the amount of bad thoughts thunk that changes depending on the intensity of ones’ hyperfixation. Yes I am a neuroscientist trust me
The correct way to handle a brat is to tie her hands behind her back while you place her on your lap, telling her everything you want to do to her without ever touching her. Leaving her a dripping whining mess all over your lap
Just imagining myself lounging around at home while my s/o is working tirelessly at their desk. They haven't taken a break as they know they have to get this work finished but they're nowhere near done.
So I decide to waltz myself over to their home office and take my usual spot under the desk, but I simply place my chin on the base of the chair between their legs, like a puppy craving attention from it's owner.
"I'm sorry baby but I'm so busy right now, you're gonna have to wait a bit okay?" they coo, cupping my cheek with their hand and showing a sincere smile before putting all their focus back onto the computer screen.
But I want to be the one that helps you out, helps you relieve some stress without having to move from the desk.
"Can we try something? I promise it won't be too distracting, trust me" I whisper faintly, perching up slightly on my knees and trailing my fingertips along their exposed thigh.
It's getting late so all they're wearing is an oversized shirt, luckily that makes it easier for me see what I want.
Before they can even get a word in I place my soft lips around the hood of their neglected clit, my tongue just resting peacefully against the bud of nerves. I won't make any sudden movements though, like I said, I won't be too distracting.
The sweet sound of their breathy gasp as they look back down at me, their thighs closing in on my head to prop it up.
Every now and then I feel them rock against my tongue, their wetness seeping into my mouth with each one whilst I stay put.
That's all I'm here for after all, to keep their clit warm in my mouth whilst they use my tongue whenever they need some added friction.
i just wanna fuck a needy little pussy so good right now. to make someone squirm and twitch uncontrollably. become stupid because of how good i'm making them feel. fuck their insides so hard and rub their clit until its red and swollen, hypersensitive and throbbing for hours after i take my hands off of them. make them such a dripping. sloppy mess. fuck them so good that once i stop, they can't stand the feeling of being empty. beg me to fill you the fuck up again and again.
i wanna have a cute lil sub in the passenger seat next to me during a road trip. a vibrator stuffed inside of her wet little hole, kept in by a tight pair of undies. no matter how much you squeeze your thighs closed, cross your legs, shift positions, you can't escape the feeling of those vibrations relentlessly buzzing inside of you. every time we pass a speed bump, it thrusts up into you a little bit and makes you whine. by the time we get to our destination, you've already cum a handful of times, got the car seat all wet and now have to walk to our hotel room with your slick running down your shaky thighs. so cute and sloppy and fucked out before we even start. all of that only to warm you up to take my strap the second we get in bed. should be so easy to just slide it in and fuck that needy hole.of yours
a pathetic femme who’s so sensitive she can’t keep still. a pathetic femme u have to gag with her own panties bc she can’t keep quiet. a pathetic femme u need to teach how to squirt and make her “practice” until she’s sobbing and shaking. a pathetic femme who pouts and humps ur boot when she needs attention. a pathetic femme who a pathetic femme. a pathetic femme. a pathetic femme.
Femme who sends me videos of her getting off in my clothes when?
Fuck
Lifting the hem of a hoodie up past her tits so i can watch them bounce as she rides a pretty toy or rubs her clit, spreading her cum all over her holes, whimpering my name, and and and
my most toxic trait is i fucking love work gossip. i play neutral not to be the bigger person or take the high road but to hear slander and hearsay from every side. two coworkers complained about each other to me in the same afternoon and i nearly blacked out from the rush
Synopsis: Confessions shared with the wrong person gone so sinfully right.
Details: rick grimes x reader, afab!reader, smut—masturbation, unprotected sex, riding, both rick and reader being desperate in the dark. I made the exact reason for the confession and occasion very vague. 18+, wc: 2.6k. Proof read, but there might be some errors.
A/N: Not sure how much I like this one, but I had this idea back in early October and I wanted to finish it and give you guys something after a whole month.
I miss you, I’m sorry. Hope you’re all well!! With love from writella. ♡
Your voice is solemn and heavy as you sigh before starting, “I don’t do this very often,” you say, “I hope this is okay.” Your eyes lowering shamefully as you stop. It’s only the first sentence and you’re finding it hard to continue. It’s almost as if there are needles piercing into your throat. “I just feel so embarrassed,” you admit.
Then you pause.
No response from him comes after.
Only silence fills the dark and hallow space of the wooden confession box. Only your thoughts, every creak you made on the built-in bench, and the light wind that rustled from the cracked door were heard.
You wait a second longer.
Hoping.
But still, nothing.
Part of you was suspecting that Gabriel would have been more inviting, telling you it’s okay; and doing so with his kind and gentle voice, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t doing anything it seemed. You only saw the silhouette of his face when you walked inside— the outline of a nose and mouth, really. He seemed to be sitting as far from the small barred window as he could, but you didn’t dare look again. You didn’t even turn on the light fixture in the corner. Your fear was all too big, and his unwavering quietness made it worse.
Maybe you had come at the wrong time, maybe you interrupted him. You almost wanted to ask. But maybe confessions happened in complete silence… you didn’t know anymore, but at this point, you were hoping so. You had already wasted five minutes and managed only one sentence. Perhaps he heard the fear in your voice and was just trying to be a good listener… yes, maybe, you pretend as you urged yourself to start again:
You breathe in sharply, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” The words come out in an uneasy, hushed whisper. “It happens a lot and I know it’s wrong. And you’re probably going to look at me differently after this, but I have to tell someone so I can stop.”
Your eyes screw shut, the next phrase coming out jumbled and continuous as you try to explain yourself quickly: “I’ve journaled about it and told myself it’s wrong but it’s not helping.” You start to weep, almost laughing at yourself, “I feel so stupid.”
You sigh and you almost think you hear him do so too, but you keep going.
“I’ve been thinking about someone,” you finally say. “For a long time. And I know it’s bad, I know it, but I do it anyway. It's all I think about.”
Another pause.
You catch your breath.
You wait.
But nothing.
So, you start again.
“I think I love him sometimes.” And if you couldn’t get any more timid, your cheeks flush, and your voice grows quieter, “I like his hair, and his eyes, those button-downs he always wears…” you smile at yourself, these were silly things, “Even his beard.”
And then you hear him shuffle, and a light sound is emitted.
It startles you, but silence ensues again thereafter. Maybe you imagined it.
“I like his kindness too. People would usually say strong or giving, but that’s what I like to tell him— that he’s kind. I think he’s kinder than other people give him credit for. He’s just protective. Everyone, and especially himself, we put a lot of pressure on him to make the hard decisions, but, really…” and there it is, “that's not the only way I think about him. There are things–” your throat tightens again– “ things that I think about. And things that I do.” Your eyes screw tight as you force yourself to say it, “I touch myself.”
Another bout of silence comes before the question.
One you’d never suspect.
“Can you describe it?” The voice asks, dark and curious.
The cool spring air of the night turns cold, but it adds no relief to the summer heat that burns in your heart as it begins to beat painfully. The texture in his voice, the inflection at the end that lined the sentence as a request, it rings through one ear and out the other and back again in a cycle.
You knew who it was.
“What?” You shriek so lightly as if playing dumb would help you now. He knew who you were talking about, you made it so desperately obvious.
“Can you,” he repeats steadily, “describe it?”
“I… shouldn’t.”
“What other better time could there be?” You can’t tell if he truly means it. His voice remains firm and lets out no hints of his true intentions, but despite doubt, you start anyway. He’s right after all, you’re in here because there hasn’t been a better time.
“I- I start by touching up my thighs, trailing up slowly… I always get so nervous… I never do it fast because I know I shouldn’t do it while thinking about you- about him,” you correct yourself, squeezing your thighs together, your hands gripping the bench tightly.
“But you do it anyway.”
“I do,” you reply meekly.
“You can’t help yourself, can you?”
“I can't.”
“What happens when you finally reach all the way up?”
“Gotta touch myself.”
He puts his hands on his knees, making sure his voice stays leveled. “Where do you start?”
“Rubbing my clit.”
“Do it.”
And then you do. You truly can’t help it. Your fingers slide down your hips to the front of your heat, chilly fingers pressing up against your lips over your underwear.
He hears the little sigh as you finally allow your finger to reach your clit in between.
“How does it feel?”
“My fingers are cold right now, so,” a quick breathy laugh leaves you, “ good, really good.” You rub your fingers in slow circles, but your hand and hips jerk, forcing you to speed up, but you try, try to not seem so pathetic to yourself as if there was any attempt at going back now.
His voice’s a slight strain as he asks, “And what do you think about?” He starts to rub his thighs, feeling his cock stir to the side of his jeans, making the material feel tighter than it truly was. His fingers trail closer, knuckles brushing against his erection. He’s pretending like he can stop himself too. “What does he do in your head, sweetheart?”
“He watches,” you say as your movements speed up again. You really can’t help it now, his voice edges you on. Your hand goes under the band of your underwear, fingers collecting wetness below to bring up to your clit, “He’s standing at the edge of the bed,” you tell him, “he’s unbuttoning his shirt, and then he starts taking off his belt… He’s smiling.”
If only you knew that hearing how bad you wanted him was making him do the same thing on the other side.
You’re panting now, one foot comes up to the bench as you slide yourself over to press your back into the corner of the wall, your head tilting back as well, using the assistance to grind into your hand. “He thinks I’m pretty.”
“That's cause are.” He’s lowered his pants now and takes his cock out from under his boxers. Your words make his mouth gape and his eyes close as he begins to stroke himself. “You really are.”
His smile fades as he bites down on his lip lightly. You’re so needy for him and so desperate to admit it. It makes him feel powerful. Almost God-like, despite you both starring as the other’s tempter. So sweet and sinful the sounds you’re making are. How could he not give in? How could he not make you wet for him even at church and stroke his cock as it happens? You’re making it so easy with every whine and little moan you try to withhold. He could hear you getting restless, but he wants to make you want it more, “Keep goin’,” he tells you. “What’s happening now?”
“I put two fingers in,” you whine, “not big enough. Never enough.”
You let your two fingers stay inside you as you press your palm down on your pussy, rubbing your clit with the underside of your hand. You stop for a moment to take off your pants and underwear entirely, discarding it on the floor before you return to your spot. You put one leg up on the bench as you continue to finger yourself.
“I want him so bad.”
“How bad, sweetheart? What would you let him do?”
“Anything, Rick.” You say it louder than you intend, you’re losing yourself. “Anything for him.”
“Anything?”
“Everything.”
After that only nonsense comes out, simple sounds of desire and pleads. It was becoming too much to talk.
Rick felt the same. His hand on his shaft made quick and short movements, his lips parted and pink, more red on the bottom than the top from when bit his lip again at the words anything and everything for him. He repeated it in his mind, listening to your sweet little whines in the present. His head tilts so far back that it bangs on the wooden wall and he hisses.
It reminds him to compose himself.
Even after you let out another moan of his name, and he swears he could almost hear just how wet you are now, the squish of your fingers going in and out, louder and louder.
He swallows hard and takes a breath before he says, “What if I say I want you in here right now?”
That’s when your movements completely stop. You can hear the wind swirling again. You were speechless.
He turns to the netted window. You two can’t see each other but you know he’s looking. “C’mere.” He says slowly. “Now.”
And after that, your body takes control. Swift and instantaneous you move from your door to his, shutting it hard. You don’t even take a moment to look at him, it was too dark anyway, and that’s not what mattered. You’ve already dreamed of his curls, and the pierce of his blue eyes. You knew what he looked like. It’s time to know how he felt.
Rick takes off his shoes and fully lowers and discards his pants. Before he could even consider his shirt, you’re on top of him. You’re kissing his face, your lips and tongue missing his lips by just a little, but it doesn’t matter.
You begin to rock, your wet pussy making the length of his cock and thigh slick before it's even inside of you. You couldn’t help yourself and it makes him laugh, all cocky and proud. Something that you’d cross your arms to, even quip back at in any other situation but right now, it’s so fucking hot.
His hands latch onto your hips, his legs slide back to hit the wall. He raises your frame and you grab him. Your sticky fingers lace around his dick and then you both lower yourself down onto him.
You try to bottom out fast, but his nails dig into you, slowing you down. Your face reaches back with a pout and a whine as he says, “Wait,” even after he’s inside of you.
Your pussy quakes around him. You’re both trying to hold it together, but he’s faring much better than you.
His hand holds your jaw, thumbs caressing your cheeks and a tear falls from your eye, all the sensations becoming too much.
His eyes trail the sight as it rolls down and he tells you, “You’re right. I do think you’re beautiful.”
And he kisses you. Tongue slipping past your lips just as quickly as they depart, going to whisper in your ear: “Go on now,” he smiles, “show me everything.”
You begin to rock against him instantly. Initiating the kiss this time, your tongue slips into his mouth but his goes on top of yours. He grabs the back of your neck, deepening it, and you continue to take charge below as you ride him.
You squeeze around his cock tightly with every movement forward and you hear a strangled groan come out of him as his dick twitches at the sensation.
It makes you moan so loudly, you could wake somebody up.
But it doesn't matter.
You could even come right now just from feeling him inside you for the first time.
And it doesn’t matter.
“I've wanted you for so long, Rick!” You tell him.
He’s all that matters.
“You’ve got me.” He tells you breathlessly, kissing down your neck with his hand tugging on your hair. “You always could’ve.”
Now you know you’re all that matters too.
Your head tilts to the side, eyes closed, and mouth open for each pretty sigh and slight hiss that come out as he bites and kisses.
His hands lower to the hem of your shirt and he pulls it off. You start to undo the buttons on his too.
It’s fast and rushed and messy, but now your chests can meet. You press into him. Your hips are rocking hard. Your clit meets his pelvic bone making you whine and moan again. “Really good,” you say.
Rick’s hands slide to grab your ass, helping you go faster until they rise to your hips again. His thumbs press into the crevice of your hips and legs and he starts to bounce you on him.
You grip onto his arms, assisting him in his efforts. Your eyes are still closed, you’re smiling— already in a state of bliss, yet relishing in the fact that he was pushing you further and further into the dream-like feeling that was to come: your orgasm was close, and the string of airy moans made it evident to you both.
The way his hands move to caress your waist, trail up your back, roll over your arms, and back down again feels like gliding on ice. You felt him everywhere.
“Come on,” he tells you.
“I'm trying, I want to.”
“I know,” he affirms. He takes hold of your upper arms, letting his hands slide down to yours that tightly gripped his biceps and placed them on his shoulders.
You bounce yourself down on him harder, switching it up to rock on him and give your clit attention, then repeat it again.
Once you’re back to bouncing Rick takes one hand on your hip, helping you go faster while the other rubs your clit as vigorously as he can.
Your mouth is open wide, pants and squirms, and pleads coming out wildly. You almost feel like you’re making the whole box jump along with you as you bounce, and bounce, and bounce, and then… there it is: you shout his name and he speaks back to you, you both come together and ride out your high.
A glow emits as you smile, your head crashing into his as you catch your breath.
Then a noise erupts.
The church door closes.
Steps become louder and louder until they reach the open confession box door.
Rick puts his finger to your lips, silently quieting you both. Your eyes are owl wide knowing what the person in the next section would find in there. You almost squirm but Rick slots his finger into your mouth to stop it. “Quiet,” he mouths as the person next to you drops the wet garments they just touched, almost running out of the place as fast as they could.
You lower your face to his shoulder. Embarrassed, you sigh, “What are we gonna do now?”
Rick is unfazed: “Well,” he starts, picking you up by the hips, securing your legs as you wrap them around him, “we could do this one more time.”
He locks the church door and then walks you down the aisle and onto the podium, placing you gently on the ground. He’s standing above you. Just like it all your daydreams.
ughhh so invested on the reading that i didn't blink once 🥹🥹 that was such an awesome reads and i love your writing !!! i imagined the whole scene so perfectly in my mind with his voice on the dark space of m'y head. tysm for this pretty piece. i will defintly go back to this 🤓🙏🏿‼️also the first picture arghhh, why hes so hot like that
“I like his kindness too. People would usually say strong or giving, but that’s what I like to tell him— that he’s kind. I think he’s kinder than other people give him credit for. He’s just protective. Everyone, and especially himself, we put a lot of pressure on him to make the hard decisions, but, really…” and there it is, “that's not the only way I think about him. There are things–” your throat tightens again– “ things that I think about. And things that I do.” Your eyes screw tight as you force yourself to say it, “I touch myself.” — ughh you're so real for that reader but i just love how she express herself. this is kinda so sweet
His voice’s a slight strain as he asks, “And what do you think about?” He starts to rub his thighs, feeling his cock stir to the side of his jeans, making the material feel tighter than it truly was. His fingers trail closer, knuckles brushing against his erection. He’s pretending like he can stop himself too. “What does he do in your head, sweetheart?” — it does insane things to me. the whole conversation
“You’ve got me.” He tells you breathlessly, kissing down your neck with his hand tugging on your hair. “You always could’ve.” — 🥹🥹🥹🥹
Rick is unfazed: “Well,” he starts, picking you up by the hips, securing your legs as you wrap them around him, “we could do this one more time.” — literally forgive me father 🙏🏿 I will do it again
you don't get it, i want her to ruin me. leave marks and bruises all over my body. make me ache after being stretched into every possible position. rough me up so bad that i don't know what to do with myself the next morning.
dededos
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