life in technicolor.

MINORS DNI 18+ WARNINGS: not edited mb | f!reader | sex tape | sexual content | established relationship | riding. NOTES: dedicated to @murdrdocs. credit for the cam idea

ABED NADIR had rented out that clunky camera from the film department ages ago. It sits in his living room precariously balanced on a stack of books on a shelf, and you cannot stop staring at it. It draws you in like a moth to flame, constantly staring into its lens. One part of you is paranoid it’s recording because it’s like Abed to leave it on to capture life as it exists, and the other part secretly daydreams he left it on to capture something else. Regardless of any fantasies, you know he wouldn’t just leave it on on purpose, right?

You chew your lower lip as you watch it and wonder what it would be like if he’d planned to make a movie with you. One without inhibitions or clothes. That kind of spontaneity isn’t within his peripheral, but you still hold out hope.

“What are you looking at?” his question snaps you out of your stupor, jumping in place before meeting his expectant gaze. The noises of the movie playing come into focus as your mouth parts only to expel silence. “You were looking over there so I just thought there was something to look at.” Abed answers your hesitance as if he anticipated your confusion, gesturing with a finger in the direction of the camera while his hand is still wrapped around the spoon in his cereal bowl.

“Oh!” you exclaim, glancing between him and the lens, shaking your head. “It’s nothing.” Uncomfortably, you shift in your seat, stuffing your clasped hands between your thighs. He notes that with a twitch to his brow. “I was just staring off into space.”

He continues to test the waters, adjusting the point of his finger towards the TV, “Is the movie boring?”

“Mm-mm.” You press your lips together and shake your head again. When you sigh, you visibly relax, sinking into his couch.

“You’re doing that thing you do.”

You hum in inquiry, frowning at him.

“The deflection.” He’s not a stranger to getting lost in thought, but you sure do get lost the most when you’re watching that camera. Regardless of his inexperience in the physical intimacy facet of a relationship, he knows how to read people, and he certainly knows what cameras are used for. He recognizes that flush in your cheeks. “You wanna try it out?”

At first he kept experimenting, showing you the buttons to press, demonstrating how to hold it, observing your reactions. You aren’t interested in being a film major, he knows that, but now that you’ve learned how to use it, who’s to decide what you’ll use it on? It’s easy to deduce where it’s headed, and it gets real dirty real fast.

“Point it down- between us.” Those breathless words send shivers down your spine, especially because he’s usually so silent when he’s inside you. You do as he says, recording where your bodies conjoin: his ruts up into you, your hole swallowing him up, the ring of cream forming at his base. It’s not often he gets to indulge you in the physical side of sensuality, this is his way of appeasing you. He’ll trim it up, edit it, make it pretty, and let you have a copy of the sex tape he has a hand in making right now. He doesn’t mind, his face isn’t in it anyway. Nobody’ll know it’s his tan dick fucking your insides. “I like you… like this.” he confesses, and a grin stretches onto your lips when you feel his hands squeeze your hips.

“You mean when I’m on top?”

“Yes,” he grunts, and a sting shoots through your abdomen. “I like what you look like. You look really pretty. Up there.” Broken phrases are interrupted by his sounds of effort, lithe body bucking into you as you struggle to keep the camera steady.

“Do I feel good?” you whisper, and Abed’s head tilts back. It defines his adam’s apple, and if this camera wasn’t in your way you’d lean down to lick it.

Your question does not go unheeded for he knows intimately how important verbal praise is to you, so he tries to be vocal. This is for you. He sucks in a breath, “Yes. Yes, very.”

Community Masterlist

Abed Nadir

Abed Nadir and the Friend of a Friend one shot

Summary: Abed has a crush on Britta's best friend. He remembers all too well what happened with Lukka, however, and finds himself torn on what to do now that the tables might be turned. Everything comes to a head when Britta brings (Y/N) to a study group session.

Requests are now open!

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I saw a bumper sticker and thought “is that seductive Daffy Duck” and then when I looked closer I realized it was actually a fishing bumper sticker but also. also it is still very much seductive Daffy Duck???? somehow????????

TITS BACK ON TUMBLR???

DON’T MIND IF I DO!!!

#POST TITS

don't fucking interrupt me when i'm reading my x reader fics it's rude

If people make cutesy posts about growing food and herb spirals and composting but never talk about stuff like preventing and getting rid of rats in a garden, I get this suspision that they either haven't actually gardened much or they're more interested in presenting an aesthetically pleasing image than in actually preparing people to deal with a garden.

im being so fucking for real and i need you guys to boost and reblog this you nonblack selfshippers have got to stop using "simp." you have to. its african american vernacular english (aave) which in colloquial terms means its not for you to use. in a space already hostile towards shippers of color, youre just making it more inhospitable to black selfshippers by appropriating our language. say youre crushing. say youre obsessed. say youre head over heels, say youre a sucker, say youre infatuated, just stop saying simp. for the love of god

{nonblack shippers [even other shippers of color] i do NOT want to hear your opinion on this post or hear about how you "didnt know" or are "changing it right now." just be an ally and LISTEN instead of needing to add your piece.}

" 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 , 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐈 𝐁𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 ? "

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐌 — ruin him or even break him, and yet still his thoughts will be solely devoted to you . .

nsfw / sixteen + / gender neutral reader / yandere content / oc x reader / knife play (reader cuts into his skin, he enjoys it) / blood play / submissive yandere / dominant reader / slight bondage / worshipping(?) / dacryphilia / marking (reader carves their name into him) / begging (he's really noisey tbh)

masterlist | requesting rules | character info . . . a/n: gotta finish the character info's before these fics guys . . anyways meet Elliot Bourne . .

The blade dipped into Elliot's skin, cutting the soft flesh, leaving a scar in it's wake, blood dripping from his torso, while his screams were muffled by the rag in his mouth. Drool escaping the corners of his mouth, while tears escaped his reddened eyes as you carved into his soft supple flesh.

Muffled whimpers for more, while his body rejected your touch, squirming at the feeling of your nails digging into his thigh, holding him still. He struggled against the binds, that trapped his hands—bruises forming from the rough feeling of the ropes that held him down—wanting nothing more than to touch your radiance in front of him, to feel the divine being in front of him doing whatever they desired to his worthless being.

His mind was rotten, filled with only thoughts of you, your touch, the filth that escaped you mouth—the way the knife felt on his skin—the way your nails dug deep enough to draw blood, leaving beautiful scars for him to cherish and preserve.

His throat felt raw, all the moisture dried as his body involuntarily buckled towards you, his eyes rolling back as he felt your fingers glide over the newly carved piece of art you've left on his skin—he grew more and more light headed as the blood escaped the fresh wound.

The rag fell from his mouth, tears escaping his eyes as he starred at you half lidded, he choked out plethora of i'm sorry's and thank you's—he wasn't exactly sure what he was sorry for—yet he knew he had to please you somehow, after you gave him this delightful gift.

He felt his stomach churn, a delightful feeling, as he watched you lick the blood off from your fingers, an involuntary moan escaped his mouth—he wanted to turn away—yet he couldn't, you were just so perfect, pristine, superior . .

He watched you smile, leaning down into the crook of his neck, before you sank your teeth into him—the pain was delightful—he sucked in his breath, his head leaning back, feeling even more light headed than before, he'd be fine with dying right now . . at your hands.

Elliot blinks slowly, finally waking up . . his body was sore, aching all over . . he was still in the place where you had last left him—untied thankfully—he leaned back, sighing, trying to muscle up some strength before he got up—he looked down at the wound on his torso, your name carved deeply into his skin, claiming him whole . . and despite his weak state, he couldn't help but giggle, blushing as he traced the wound with his fingers.

@ rxmye , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

“I can fix him dw” [drill sounds] {screaming} [chainsaw revving]

too bad i forget.

MINORS DNI 18+ NOTES: takes place during s2e2 where annie, abed, and troy break into a lawyers office | not sure how i feel about this bcos it was stuck in my head and i felt like i was trying to fit too many things in but whatevs

“You guys!” you exclaim, stamping your foot in frustration. “I’m the smartest one in the group and all I’ve been used for is bait and distraction.” With each angry bounce in place—conveying your mini temper tantrum as you complain—you hadn’t realized your chest rippled from the impacts of your stomps until their eyes drifted and remained there. Both Troy and ABED NADIR watch your curves move under the thin material of your form-fitting dress, and you scoff in offense. Your arms cross over, veiling your cleavage and breaking their trance. Finally, they meet your gaze as you frown at them. It’s humiliating enough to be looked at like a piece of meat, but you would’ve never expected that behavior from Abed.

A little later, it furthers still when you lift a box of files to prop open the door. Your little heels don’t stay under you when you crouch, sliding to a sit on the floor with your legs folded out on either side of you, and your ass jiggles from your firm landing. Embarrassed, you squeak, and whirl your head around to face the boys, checking if they caught your blunder. Troy has his back turned, but Abed’s unabashedly watching. His eyes follow the deep arch of your back, how your ass fans out sat against the floor, your smooth legs tucked in a most exquisite way. It shocks you enough to idle as he tilts his head. Only when you scramble up, face hot and deeply colored, does Abed return to his task of searching the computer for evidence. Hastily, you dust off your outfit, and make sure it’s not exposing more than it already was. Briefly, you remember the way he scanned you, and you feel a disappointment you didn’t let that linger a little longer.

You and Abed aren’t a thing, but you know how upset he sounded when he heard Jeff had kissed you that night, after the dance. The big reveal right in that study room had him practically storm out after verbalizing Jeff’s blatant disregard for human decency. It was mortifying to say the least, you’d never seen Abed so upset. His voice had a subtle edge that you may have never noticed if you didn’t spend so much time with him. Additionally, there was that one time that Pierce had described you and Britta as—what he believed to be—your most identifying features: one of you was “flat-ass” and the other was “the one Abed wants to nail.” One million questions had flooded your head all of them having to do with the latter. Another time was pottery class, and you hadn’t realized it in the moment, but sculpting a defined phallic shape accidentally had caught the eye of both Abed and Jeff. Running your wet hands up and down the shaft of the clay had brought them both to pensive silence as they observed your graceful movements. All this evidence kept piling up to explain Abed’s strange behavior tonight, but you keep denying it.

You keep denying it right up until you can’t take it anymore, right up until you’re back at his place, straddling him. Your lips against his, you find him oddly stiff. The kiss itself isn’t unpleasant, but you can feel his hesitance. Or maybe he’s just nervous, manifesting in rigid movements. Nevertheless, you find it appealing. A guy who gets worked up kissing strikes your fancy because you’ve always imagined yourself as the one to take it slow. It’s refreshing that he’s beating you to it. Your dress is cascaded over his pelvis, and his head is propped up on the armrest of his couch. Sweetly, he’s returning your kiss the best of his ability, even parting your lips with his when he slips you a glimpse of tongue.

You pull away to speak, but he interrupts your path. “Did I not do it right?” he asks, but his tone is characteristically devoid of concern. Instead, it’s calculative, as if he’s been measuring your enjoyment inside his head and is surprised to have been incorrect just now.

“Oh, you’re doing fine.” you reply with a relieved grin, clutching onto the front of his shirt. “I just wanted to say…” You lean down, pecking his willing lips. “you could… you know, touch me a little.” Those hands of his have been faithfully laying atop your thighs this entire exchange, and he glances warily down at them. So you help him. “Like this.” You palm the backs of his hands and gently glide them along your body, riding up your dress as they come to sit at the space right above your ass. Searching his eyes, you can see a glint of enthusiasm pass through them, and then those curious hands invite themselves to take a generous grope of your backside, incidentally rutting your core against the crotch of his jeans. You exhale, disbelief mixed with pleasure, and you could predict he was gonna say he saw this move in a movie once. Didn’t give him the chance though, pressing your chest against his to recapture his lips.

Strangely forward, Abed experimentally rocks you. Shallow jostles back and forth which is not at all what you expected from him. It’s unnerving until a twang slips from his lips, “Gonna ride me like a cowgirl tonight, huh?”

It becomes clear. You can tell he’s getting nervous treading into unknown territory, and falling back on a reference you don’t understand playing a character you don’t know is a way to diffuse that. “This is not a movie, Abed.” you chide.

“Sorry.”

something is happening at the stillwater....

being a little petty (ID in alt)

-:“Can we please just talk?” Post argument make-up talk prompts:-

(You know who needs this? YOU KNOW WHO NEEDS THIS?! AZIRAPHALE AND CROWLEY! *sobs*)

By @me-writes-prompts

"Look, I'm really sorry for shouting at you. I just...I just lost control. But it wasn't your fault, it was me. Please forgive me?"

"We really shouldn't have fought over a piece of dumpling, don't you think so?" "Yeah, that was rather a vague topic to argue over." (Vmin, anyone?)

"I'm really sorry, I wasn't in the right mind and vent it out on you."

"Are you still mad at me? I mean, it's okay if you are. I'm mad at myself, too."

"Can we talk?" "Yeah, yeah. Let's do that."

"I didn't mean to say you're not enough, okay? Because you are, but I am not. I am not enough to appreciate a person like you."

"I really wasn't thinking straight, now was I? I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to put up with my shit. I'll be better for you."

"Are you calm now?" "Yeah, sorry. Needed to take a time out."

Kissing as apologizing but then also expressing it in words.

Angry cuddles, because they are cold. Definitely not because they want the warmth their partner provides.

"That was a really silly argument we had last night, right?" “Hmm, yet we couldn’t stop the topic.” They try to joke.

Yes, I'm taken (I'm dating a fictional character inside my head)

shout out to the self-shippers whose f/o is the most unpopular character in their source.

shout out to the self-shippers whose f/o is a tumblr sexyman/tumblr sexyman archetype.

shout out to the self-shippers whose f/o is seen as only a “meme” or “cringe.”

shout out to the self-shippers who give their f/o a textbook’s worth of lore because canon failed them.

shout out to the self-shippers who wish the fandom took their f/o more seriously.

shout out to the self-shippers with f/os so obscure, they don’t even have a fandom.

y’all are the self-shipping community’s strongest soldiers. keep loving! 💗