Carl Grimes Imagines ➹ Smut&Fluff

Playing Games (Hella Smut)

Oh hell we hit 50k

"Stop winning," Carl whines.

You take your eyes off the pool table and look at his sore loser face, "I can't really help it, but you can help your losing streak. Just saying."

His eyes widen a bit, and sighs, "I guess I'll have to do it the hard way."

He runs around the table and starts tickling you around the stomach. Your laughs come abrupt and sharp. He grins and starts to jab at your waist. You squeal and he chuckles at your cute, unexpected noise.

His hands move away from your hips to your back, and his arms tighten. Like a shoelace tightening around your body, but soft. His hair tickles your cheek as he leaves small kisses on your neck. Your feet swing in the air, and then fling up by the impact of Carl smashing his body closer to yours. You giggle into his chest, and he hits the 9 ball in to the hole. He pumps his fist, and adjusts his grip on the stick.

His arms around you, he hits the 4 ball against the wall, which shoots to the right. You grip him tighter, to let him know you don't want to play pool anymore.

He smirks, and walks around to the other side of the table. The excitement still lingers, but now there was a tinge of disappointment.

You groan and hop off of the velvety pool table. He puts all of his attention on the game, ignoring your silent pleas to divert it to you.

The air was hot, and it was silent. Your feet shuffle over to Carl, where you wrap your arms around his waist. Your fingers trace around his stomach, and he smiles. He turns around slowly, setting his eyes on you. Particles in the air seem maximized in the space between your faces. He closes the space with no hesitation, and pulls your body closer. He whips you around and places you back on the table. His fingers play with your belt loops, and you whine for him to hurry. He places his thumbs under the cloth of your shirt, and pulls it up over your head.

His hands roam up your back, feeling for the hook on your bra. He unhooks it and pulls it off of your arms. The too-big nude bra goes flying to the other end of the table. You smile into Carl's lips, puckering into a kiss.

The dim light above you rained down on his face like an angel's.

His eyes dawned by the shadow, but somehow still glistening. His body was cold, but somehow still comforting to yours.

"Are you okay, beautiful?"

His eyes were wide and blue like an ocean, and vast with emotion. You smile, and nod, with an accidental tear resting at the crease of your cheek. He wipes it away with his thumb, and kisses you, missing your lips on purpose.

He dove his head down to your thighs. Goose bumps layer after his breath tickles your warm skin. Your legs wrap loosely around his neck, and your toes curl.

He inhales deeply, then sighs.

"God you're so fucking beautiful. I'm honored to even be born in the same century as you, let alone be able to pleasure you the way your presence pleasures me."

Your cheeks turn divine wine, and your eyes close.

His lips drag along your thigh to your stomach, and he kisses your skin gently. His fingers loop under the waistband of your underwear, and pulls it down.

It's as if the gate of a cage was opened, home to hundreds of butterflies. His lips were soft on your inner thigh, and the way he cared for your comfort makes it even more special. He lifts his head, and the heat from his cheeks radiate onto your breast.

His light touch moves to your hips, and he extends his fingers so they lightly touch the bottom of your stomach. His calloused hands move over your waist, and he pulls you a bit closer.