lana

❝ not all quite there . . .

. . . crazy with a wrench ❞

pure lapdog behavior 𖥔 unabashed showing off chaotic inner monologue 𖥔 himbo .ᐟ rafe’s introduction 𖥔

“hey, hey,” rafe slapped topper in the chest about five times until topper responded, “stop hitting me, i’m right here.”

rafe ducked down in his seat suddenly, bracing his head, “did she see me?” topper looked around, already over rafe’s behavior, “who? why are you in that position, you look like a fetus, dude.”

rafe peeked over his arms, seeing you were now turned around. he blew out a breath then responded, “that girl over there. you know her? don’t answer, i don’t want you to know her. actually, can you go over there and put in a good word?”

topper blanched, “i am so confused. do you want me to talk to her or not?” rafe shrugged, tilting his side to side, “a little. not too long. crap,” he said suddenly, ducking back down, “i think she looked over again. or am i delusional? i can’t tell anymore. she can’t see me until i’m ready.”

topper frowned, “ready? what are you about to do, you just healed your ankle from jumping two stories, don’t do that again.”

rafe shrugged, “i can and i will. just . . tell her about how much i can press. girls like that right? does she look like she’s into bench pressing? don’t look at her. say something about how i fix cars. and i can fix her car if she has a car. if she doesn’t, tell her i’ll buy her one.”

topper stood, making his way over while walking backwards, “so, that’s all gonna scare her. i got it,” he turned around, making his way towards you.

rafe shifted in his chair, crossing a leg over the over, then putting them back down. he stretched to flex his arms, then quickly put them down too. how the heck do you sit?

while rafe wondered that, topper was doing his best to introduce rafe, “he’s not all quite there . . crazy with a wrench, though.”

rafe looked up after he settled himself when you turned your head to look at him, smiling when you spotted him. that means go, right? rafe sprung up, making his way over, not being able to sit still for another second now that you looked at him. smiled at him.

“sup?” he said once he reached you two, gesturing his head for topper to go away. topper got the hint, returning to his seat. passing rafe, he muttered, “she doesn’t have a car.”

rafe blurted, “i can buy you one,” startling you. he wasn’t able to see topper shaking his head in disappointment as he walked away. your brows scrunched, “sorry?”

rafe smiled nervously, “me too. um, i can buy you a jacket. you look cold,” you realized you were rubbing your arm, “oh, yeah. no, it’s fine. not that bad,” you laughed slightly.

rafe shook his head, anxious you were cold and possibly uncomfortable, “no, if you’re cold, i’ll get you a jacket.”

you tilted your lips, “it’s fine, really. i’m leaving soon, anyway. kind of bored . . was that your friend?” you attempted conversation, but rafe was distracted, staring at you after you mentioned leaving, until he heard the last part of the sentence.

“huh? no, don’t think about him. where are you going?” he didn’t want you to leave yet. did topper talk about his bench press? did you care? did you want to see the callous on his hand from handling tools?

“uh . . just back home. my comfy place,” you muttered shyly. rafe nodded, then frowned. you don’t have a car, are you walking? alone? “i can walk you. i can buy you a jacket on the way. what kind of cars do you like?”

you couldn’t keep up with all that he said at once. you giggled, rafe slightly going weak in the knees at the sound, “sure, you can walk me. i’m still fine about the jacket. mustang’s are pretty cool. what’s your favorite?”

rafe responded distractedly, “the one that drives. you said i can walk you?”

you really have never met a guy like him, “yeah, but i don’t even know your name,” you narrowed your eyes, jokingly suspicious. you didn’t expect rafe’s response, “i’d endure fifteen stab wounds before i hurt you, i’m rafe,” he held his hand out.

your eyes widened, “oh . . don’t do that. nice to meet you,” you shook his hand, responding with your name, then turned to start walking. rafe followed alongside you, thinking about how sweaty his hands just were and how you probably didn’t like that. is he walking alright? are you sure you don’t want a jacket?

warnings; smut, masturbation, handjob, getting caught, chris getting off next to reader?? idk

a/n; i woke up today with this exact scenario in my head so... i had to write it

chris had a wet dream. an intense one.

and usually, there would be no problem with this, but today he wasn't alone in his bed.

the two of you decided to have a sleepover like usual, nothing surprising, you were bestfriends. but for some reason he had a dream about you, and it made him toss and turn in his sleep, bucking his hips against the blanket, trying to find some kind of release. his hand was unconsciously stroking his erection through his pajama pants that he wasn't wearing anything under - he liked to let it hang loose. but in his dream it was your hand.

his dick was so painfully hard that it woke him up, the room hot and quiet, the only sound being his soft, ragged breaths as he squeezed his hardness through the thin fabric. he was clearly overwhelmed with sleepy lust, his eyes were closed tightly as he keeps replaying the dream in his mind, the way your tits bounced as you rode him, or how your hand was jerking him off, making him feel so good.

chris lets out a quiet groan, pulling his pajamas down, freeing his hard length, the tip glistening with pre-cum. his breathing hitched slightly as his hand wraps around his cock, moving slowly, his sleepiness making him whiny and needy.

until he feels something shift beside him.

u/MrMunch667 · 1d · Verified!

NSFW [M4F] Alone again… [Ramblefap] [Whimpering] [Male moans] [Tons of Begging] [Edging] [Real Orgasm]

LISTEN [10:58]

⋆˙⟡𓂃⊹ ⸝⸝⸝

it started as a joke. your friend—who was way too deep into the world of nsfw audio—sent you link after link, swearing up and down that the right voice could change your life.

"it’ll never be me," you scoffed, deleting the messages without opening them. but she was persistent, always bringing it up in conversation, laughing about the audios she found, talking about her favorite voice actors. eventually, one night, curiosity won.

you weren’t sure what did it, if it was boredom or intrigue, but you clicked on one. then another. and another. and suddenly, you were hooked. there was just something about the rawness of it, the way it felt so personal, like someone was whispering just for you. it was hot, undeniably so. so much so that you ended up making a reddit account just to save your favorites. you told yourself it was just in case.

then you stumbled across him.

u/mrmunch667.

nothing about his profile stood out—no personal details, no flashy bio, just a simple: new audios every week. male. i am 22. single. 18+ please dni if you're a minor (:

the backwards smiley caught your attention. it reminded you of matt. he always used them when he texted.

but that was stupid, right? it could be anyone.

so you ignored it. and you listened. and then you listened again. and again. every week, without fail, you found yourself checking for his new posts. saving. upvoting. sometimes, you even commented. and then, one day, you got a reply.

1 notification on reddit: u/mrmunch667 replied to your comment on r/gonewildaudio.

LMAO don’t wanna know what the means

that was when you knew you were in too deep.

⋆˙⟡𓂃⊹ ⸝⸝⸝

matt was just a friend. someone you saw in group settings, always surrounded by mutuals. you'd never hung out alone, never had a one-on-one moment that wasn’t just passing conversation at a party or game night. he was just matt. your friend.

so when plans got canceled last minute, leaving just the two of you, it was weird.

but he didn’t make it weird. he was casual, like always, inviting you in with a lazy half-smile and a scratch at his jaw. “guess it’s just us, huh?”

he gave you a quick tour of his place, leading you through the hallway with easy strides. “this is my room,” he said, pushing open the door. normal. plain. some framed posters, a neatly made bed, a desk setup. “desktop’s just for gaming ‘n stuff.”

stuff?

you didn’t ask. you just nodded. “cool.”

back in the living room, he threw on a movie—basic instinct (1992)—and settled in beside you. it was fine at first. comfortable, even. but then he started shifting. clearing his throat. adjusting the blanket over his lap. it wasn’t until the next sex scene that you noticed.

his breath hitched.

you glanced over. bad move.

his head was steady, eyes locked on the screen, but his fingers twitched against his knee. his thighs tensed. then, under the blanket, his hand moved. like he was hiding something.

“you good?”

he hummed. “mhm.”

suspicious.

but you didn’t piece it together until you leaned over him, reaching for the remote. his breath stuttered, a barely-there grunt slipping free.

your eyes snapped to him. “sorry. didn’t know you liked the movie that much.”

“no, i don’t—i mean, i do. it’s jus… your hand was close to my dick—.”

“matt are you hard?”

silence.

“…matt.”

he exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face before finally looking at you. his eyes were darker than usual, almost guilty, but there was something else there too. something like want.

he swallowed. “yeah.”

heat pooled in your stomach. you shifted closer, pulse kicking up. “would you… um. would you like some help?”

he blinked. then, slowly, he nodded.

you shifted closer, deliberate and teasing, letting your fingers trace over the outline of his cock, dragging your palm over his sweats just to feel the twitch beneath. he sucked in a sharp breath but didn’t make a sound.

even when you slipped under the blanket, hand slipping beneath the waistband, wrapping around him, he only let out these shallow, uneven exhales. restrained.

stingy.

so you pushed.

you stroked him slow, teasing, dragging your thumb over the leaking tip, pressing into the slit just enough to make his thighs twitch. he jerked in your grip, body betraying him, but he still didn’t give you what you wanted.

until you tugged his sweats down, freeing him, and replaced your hand with the wet heat of your mouth—warm, soft, perfect.

then he cracked.

a sound ripped from him, low and broken, like it had been forced out, something he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. and oh, that did something to you.

you hummed, letting him feel the vibration of it, and his whole body jolted. his hand flew to his mouth, teeth sinking into his knuckles, his other fisting the blanket like his life depended on it.

pathetic.

and god, that made you ache.

so you kept going, setting a slow, deliberate rhythm, dragging your tongue along the underside, sucking just enough to make him squirm. his thighs trembled beneath your palms, stomach clenching with every shaky inhale, but he was still holding back. biting down on his hand, muffling himself.

not for long.

you took him deeper, inch by inch, until the tip nudged the back of your throat. his abs tensed, a breathy oh, fuck slipping past his lips. his chest was rising and falling fast now, fingers digging into the couch cushion, every muscle locked up tight as he fought to stay quiet.

you wanted to ruin that restraint.

so you did.

you hollowed your cheeks, swallowing around him, keeping him there, waiting until his whole body shook before dragging off slow, sucking him back in like you needed it. like he was something to savor.

then he broke.

his hand slipped from his mouth, head tipping back against the couch as a moan ripped from his throat. not quiet, not restrained, just raw, desperate pleasure.

you felt it everywhere.

and then it got worse for him.

because now that he wasn’t holding back, he couldn’t stop.

the whimpers, gasped curses, frantic little please, fuck, feels s’good, more, don’t stop-‘s.

his voice.

his voice.

the realization sent heat flooding through you, a throb pulsing between your thighs. him. it was him.

you moaned against him, nails scraping lightly down his thighs, and his whole body jerked, another wrecked, ruined sound spilling from his lips.

he was falling apart, and you were loving it.

so you didn’t let up. you doubled down, took him deeper, swallowed around him until he choked on a sobbed moan, hips stuttering, thighs trembling. his body was so tense, like he was fighting against something inevitable—losing.

and then he did.

he came with a broken moan, hips lifting off the couch, cum spilling hot and thick down your throat as he trembled through it. his stomach clenched, his chest heaved, his hand flew back over his mouth—biting down again, probably to stop himself from making another noise.

again, pathetic.

you pulled off him slowly, swallowing, licking the corner of your mouth before glancing up at him.

his eyes were hazy, lips parted, chest rising and falling hard. absolutely wrecked.

you tilted your head, smirking.

“way better than being alone again, huh?”

matt just blinked at you, still trying to remember how to fucking breathe.

you never did find out if matt was mrmunch667. but after countless ‘hangouts’ later, you were pretty sure you could put a face to those sounds.

@ sosasturns

sosa’s notes: got nsfw va (sub)!matt on lockdown… props to my fren @bernardsbendystraws’s post for the idea. we outside w this 1 chat!

nsfw va matt:

▶︎ now playing: p-power (feat. drake) gunna

chris started feeling more like a man the moment he started messing with you. but when he ate your pussy? that was a whole different story.

because the first time he put his mouth on you—spit hot against your clit, tongue slow and heavy in its strokes—he knew nothing was gonna top it. not a high, not a check, not a single win in his fucking life.

and now? now he lives for it.

tongue deep, nose buried in the mess between your legs, chris is gone. lost in the way your thighs shake, how you push at his head like you don’t know by now that he likes that. that it makes him groan, makes him eat you up even nastier, makes him grip your thighs and keep you still while he devours you.

“mm—fuck,” he groans against you, voice muffled, lips dragging all over that pretty pussy like he tryna drown in it. like he tryna prove something. and maybe he is. maybe he needs to.

ever since he started fucking with you, his scruff been coming in thicker. fuller. way more apparent than before.

and you both knows what that mean.

he grins against your skin, lets his mustache drag along your inner thigh before he kisses back up, sucking on your clit, slipping two fingers in deep just to feel you squeeze.

“got me lookin grown, huh?” he mumbles, voice all raspy and cocky, thick fingers curling just right inside you. he looks up at you, eyes low, fucked out, and his jaw flexes as he licks up the wetness dripping from his lips. “all this,” he presses a kiss to your swollen pussy, groans when you twitch. “this all you, ma.”

he flicks his tongue again, then again, then again, and you jerk—whimpering, breath stuttering, body fighting between running and melting right into his mouth. he loves it. keeps going till you cum all over his tongue, till your thighs squeeze around his head and you’re gasping his name like it’s the only one you know.

but he’s not done.

not even close.

because next thing you know, he’s got you on your stomach, hand gripping tight at your hip, dick lined up, leaking, aching, swollen.

he sinks in all at once, slow, deep, letting out a long, shaking breath as he bottoms out.

“fuck, y’feel that?” he mutters, voice thick with something you can’t even place. he leans forward, pressing his chest to your back, fingers trailing to your jaw to turn your face toward his.

he kisses you slow, deep, filthy—like he’s tryna make you taste yourself.

“take it,” he urges, hips pulling back, pushing in, making you feel every inch. “keep squeezin, baby. ‘jus’ wanna feel you.”

he damn near losing his mind in it. hips stuttering, face twisted up like he in pain, but his grip don’t let up—not even a little. just digging bruises into your waist like he trying to mold you into the bed. “god damn,” he mutters, voice cracking like he ain’t ever felt pussy before.

and maybe he hasn’t. not like this. not like you.

“feelssogood,” he damn near whimpers, forehead dropping to your shoulder as he sinks in to the hilt, buried in that tight, wet, gripping heat that got his stomach flexing with every slow pull out. then he slams back in, pulling a choked gasp from your throat. “yeah? you like that?” he taunts, but it sound weak, desperate. like he the one being fucked.

his breath is hot, damp against your skin as he pants, working his hips in that deep, slow grind that drag against every inch inside you. his thumb finds your clit, pressing lazy, heavy circles like he just tryna feel you flutter around him.

“every time,” he murmurs, dropping a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “every time i fuck you, this shit feel better. s’like you got me in a chokehold, ma.”

you don’t even gotta say nothing. he’s already folding, already picking up the pace, already falling apart over you. his fingers slip up to your jaw, tilting your head so he can kiss you, sloppy and open-mouthed, all tongue and heat and moans that melt into yours.

hell, he was probably moaning louder than you.

yeah, your pussy got power.