#lookin like he needs a bath

[andy-clutterbuck]

TWD | The making of 5x10

[cat-and-fox-hub]

[Drillet Doods #1] Hotspring Bath

Made by Researcher Serif, aka Cat

Créme & Mousse got themselves quite dirty playing in mud. You decided to kill two birds with one stone and clean up with the drillets so you could all relax in the hot spring you found earlier. it certainly feels heavenly after getting a break from your other kids (read; your squadron).

This initially was supposed to be a simple doodle on how our resident human and the drillets were doin' but then the new update for Ovenbreak came out and welp, hot spring scene it is!

Anyhow, one thing's for sure; they're certainly doin' alright.

Hope u enjoy! _(˵^∇^˵ /) ͡ ﾟ☆

Also, here's a close up of Mousse bleping (˵σωσ˵)

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Check out my main blog: @researcher-serif

Here's my NSFW blog if that tickles your fancy: @grandfather-of-sin

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[Read under cut for those that can't see the colored text]

Créme & Mousse got themselves quite dirty playing in mud. You decided to kill two birds with one stone and clean up with the drillets so you could all relax in the hot spring you found earlier. it certainly feels heavenly after getting a break from your other kids (read; your squadron).

[wcters]

𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗧 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗔 𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗗 𝗦𝗧𝗨𝗗𝗬𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗖𝗢𝗦𝗠𝗘𝗧𝗢𝗟𝗢𝗚𝗬

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: the relationship between matt and a girlfriend in cosmetology school

warnings/notes: established relationship, swearing, nudity innuendos?? they are naked together, kinda went off the cosmetology thing but it’s cute so whtv, a bit short but this is my first time doing preferences

- first . . . he’s totally spoiled

- like really spoiled

- you would practice at home, and then whatever you could on matt

- manicure: hand massages, cuticle cutting, nail painting, hair washing: head massages, shampoo and conditioning his hair

- he would let you practice shaving his beard but it would take awhile for him to let you

- not because he doesn’t trust you, but because he was going through a beard phase

- matt would loveeee the head massages and would get you to do them all the time

- eventually it becomes second nature and so you’ll be cuddling on the couch or outside sitting down with him between your legs and your hand will just find it’s way into his hair

- and you have fake nails so you know it feels reallyyy good

- waxing . . . but he would not admit that he lets you do it

- you ALWAYS smell good

- your shampoo and conditioner, perfume, skin/body care

- nick always asks you what you use for your skin

- sleepovers with nick where you do skincare, face masks, nail painting

- and chris begs to join until nick says yes

- matt always finds you three on nick’s bed watching a movie

- you had been obsessed with makeup your whole life

- def the designated hair braider on your sports team

- BATHS TOGETHER

- bubble bath, candles, you talking about your day and drama and he’ll be listening

- he’s just happy to be there

- studying at his house while you’re watching a movie together or if he’s busy with the podcast

- chris coming up to you and randomly asking you a question about what you’re doing when you’re studying

- “why do you push your cuticles back?” “how do perms work? like how do you do them?”

- it makes you smile because he’s genuinely interested

- will show him some things if you can

- you’re super sweet

- everyone likes you

- you’re a girls girl

- someone needs a pad/tampon? you got it. someone doesn’t want to go somewhere alone? they aren’t because you’re coming with

- you don’t gatekeep skincare or makeup

- always have lip balm on you

- you and matt go to the gym together

- always have a matching top and pants for your workout outfit

- matt just can’t believe you’re his 🤍

- like he looks at you like you hung the moon and stars

- i want to wear his initial on a chain ‘round my neck vibes

- you literally have a necklace with his initial, you walked it with it on and his eyes popped out of his head

- totally share jewelry

- you steal his sweaters, shirts, shorts, boxers, basically anything you can get your hands on

- give matt face massages

- he be lookin’ flawless

- pays for you even though you decline because he knows how much money you use for school stuff

- that shit is expensiveeee

- nick asked you first to help him dye his hair red

- ofc you said yes! he’s your bestie

- played ariana, doja cat, clairo, stuff like that

- #danceparty

- your stuff sort of pops up around the house

- chris will find like a bobbypin or a hair tie on the floor

- smells like you because you bought candles for them that you loved

- thrifting and going to flea markets and getting stuff for your apartment like vases, cups to hold jewelry, etc

- your hair is amazing. everyone’s jealous. i’m jealous.

- no split ends, doesn’t get greasy until at least 5-6 days after you wash it, perfect for styling. also sleep with a bonnet because that does wonders for you

- lashes are amazing as well. it’s because you get them done while at school 😉😉😉

- you drive nick and chris around if matt’s not there or busy

- they literally love you

- think you’re perfect for your brother

- so nice, so sweet, literal angel

- you’ve been on the podcast

- made a tiktok account after matt suggested you do

- blew up. and it’s partly because you don’t gatekeep

- you’re so relatable too, being completely honest about how you feel . . . and are so funny

- “hot take . . . men should shave their armpits. like how do you put deodorant on?” “you ever too lazy to wash your face so all it is is a makeup wipe and a rinse with water? me too.”

- will trim matt’s hair if be wants just a trim

- you first said no, didn’t want to mess up, but he believed in you 🤭🤭

- your biggest supporter

- they would totally be there when you graduate

- cheering loudly when you walk along the stage

- like the pricilla movie scene but with no creepy old men

- you love that movie, hate elvis, but love pricillia

- you sometimes cook for them so they don’t eat out all the time

- you’re a good cook 👩‍🍳

- force them to have some form of vegetables

- his parents love you

- go fishing with jimmy and the boys the one time they do (sorry jimmy but it’s true)

- fans will ask for pictures when you visit matt on tour

- who’s the triplets? they’re here for you

- matt is so proud of you

- if you ever need him to pick you up he’ll bring you food or starbucks so you have energy when you’re done

- is at your beck and call

- ask him to jump off a cliff? he’ll hesitate a bit but will ultimately do it

[dfortrafalgar]

Distraction

Portgas D. Ace x Fem!Reader

You and Ace intended to spend the day at the beach, but he can’t seem to be able to relax.

Warnings: modern au, so much smut. like so much smut. wet, sticky smut. 69-ing briefly. reader is also written to be on the chubbier side (im projecting <3) ace fucks you in the back of his car, basically. MINORS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED.

I woke up thinking about Ace today so I cranked this out in, like, an hour. It was a nice change of pace while I've been finishing up IMLY and the Luffy fic from my poll, which is almost done! (speaking of which, thank you for 200 followers <3)

Ace hadn’t seen your swimsuit yet.  All he knew about it was that you purchased it recently on a shopping trip with a group of your friends, but it was currently concealed under a light t-shirt and denim shorts.  Throughout the drive to the shoreline, he was anxiously eyeing your bare thighs, his grip on the steering wheel of his station wagon turning his knuckles white.

“What’s got you so nervous over there?”  Your airly voice shook the freckled man out of his daze.  “Eyes on the road, hotshot.”

“It’s nothing,” he blurted, pouting and turning his attention back to the road.  Maybe he should have you sit in the backseat when your skin was exposed.

His own friends often joked that he was no better than a dog.  It wasn’t his fault that his sex drive was higher than cruising altitude… or maybe it was.  But he couldn’t help his wandering eyes when the soft skin of your plush thighs was exposed, or the way your deft hands fiddled with your cuticles as you stared out the window, sparkling eyes taking in the cloudless summer day as the backroads passed by on the drive to the beach.  Most of your evenings together were spent with either his head between your legs, your head between his legs, or your face smushed into a soft pillow while Ace desperately railed you from behind.

It was a good life, that’s for sure.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been to the beach,” you suddenly stated, turning your head to look at your flustered boyfriend.  “I’ve only ever been swimming in pools recently!”

“Yeah, me too,” he replied, his voice shaky.

Your eyebrows furrowed in concern.  “Ace, are you really alright?  Your face is kind of red.”  You reached your hand over to press your palm to his forehead.  “You don’t feel like you have a fever, do you?”

“Nah, I feel fine.  Honestly.  Just… thinking.”  One of his hands left the steering wheel to rub his sweating palm against the fabric of his swim trunks.  All he had on, other than the baggy trunks, was a white tank top that had a very unfortunate oil stain around the chest area.  He was sure his entire upper body was flushing red with the debauched thoughts that plagued his weary brain.  He hadn’t even seen your bathing suit yet and his mind was running in circles.  (He started to debate calling up that therapist that Sabo recommended.)

“Well, tell me if you really don’t feel good.  I don’t want you to force yourself to be out today just because of me,” you cooed, your voice soft and comforting.

He needed to tell you to stop talking.  Even the sound of your voice made butterflies swarm in his gut.

He might as well have been ovulating.

After what felt like an eternity, the trees surrounding the backroad route he had taken began to dissipate, replaced with the beautiful sight of the shoreline.  The ocean spanned outward as far as you could see, disappearing along the horizon and blending in with the bright blue sky.  A few small beach houses dotted the shore.

“You said this was a public beach, right?” you asked curiously.

Ace nodded, swallowing a thick glob of spit.  “Public, but very minimal.  There’s some private properties surrounding it so a lot of people assume the entire place is off-limits to locals, but there���s a small parking lot set back from the beach near a tiny bathroom shack-lookin’ thing.”

You grinned.  “Nice.”

“Do you not like public beaches?” he inquired, tossing you a side eye as he pulled further down the road, approaching the aforementioned parking lot.

“I don’t mind them,” you replied.  “But sometimes really busy beaches make me nervous.  Sometimes I don’t feel comfortable swimming when there’s too many people around… I get self-conscious in my bathing suits!”  Your statement was punctuated with a fluttering, nervous laugh as you involuntarily squeezed the skin of your thighs.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that when I’m here,” Ace replied, flashing you a cheeky grin.

The parking lot seemed sparse.  It was entirely gravel with a few decrepit wooden fences separating where cars could park, some overgrown weeds poking through the impacted dirt here and there.  Sure enough, there was a brown, run-down bathroom shack between the beach and the parking lot.  During high tide, it almost seemed like the entire area would get flooded, but the gravel was drier than bone thanks to the beating sunlight.

You dug through your bag, removing a tube of sunblock.

“I thought you already put on sunscreen before we left,” Ace said, pulling into a spot and putting his beat-up station wagon in park.

“I did, I’m just putting some extra on my face,” you responded, uncapping the tube and squeezing some of the white gel onto your fingers.  You deftly rubbed the lotion onto your skin, across your cheeks and brow, down your nose, and down your neck.  

Ace needed to look away from you as your hands trailed down your neck and across your collarbones, ridding your hands of the excess lotion.  You weren’t provoking him on purpose, he knew that, but clearly his dick was taking charge of the day.

Little prick.

The two of you excitedly exited the car, grabbing your small umbrella and towels to find a nice spot to set up camp on the sand.  You were quick to lay down your towel when you found a spot, Ace digging a deep hole into the ground to mount the umbrella and provide a shelter from the beating sunlight.  Only a few other people were dotted around the beach, mostly older folk who were most certainly retired and enjoying their elderly days basking in the sunlight.  The thought made you smile.  You watched with glittering eyes as Ace pulled his tank top over his lean body, his muscular chest rippling with his movements, letting the cloth fall into his bag in a wrinkled heap.

“Oh, shit, forgot the cooler,” Ace mumbled suddenly.  “I’ll be right back.”  He swiftly turned tail and hiked through the sand back to his car.

You smiled, crawling under the umbrella and feeling the sand beneath the fabric shift below your knees.  You slid your denim shorts down your legs, shifting your weight to pull them off before folding them neatly and tucking them into your beach bag.  Your shirt followed, your hands hooking under the bottom hem and pulling it up over your head, repeating the process of folding it and storing it away.  Weirdly enough, you felt more comfortable on this beach than any other.  While some old folk liked to gab, the sparse population on this beach seemed more than willing to keep to themselves.  And there was no risk of creepy men your age or obnoxious teenagers to toss rogue comments about your body or shitty pick-up lines.

And you had Ace, of course, who would kiss the ground you walked on if you asked.  The thought made your stomach flutter with glee.

Back in the parking lot, Ace was quick to haul open his trunk and grab the small cooler they had packed with water, some sodas, and some light snacks, slinging it over his bare shoulder and slamming the door closed.  The hinges made a terrible squealing noise as the door moved.  He really needed to get that fixed.  He quickly jogged back to the shoreline with the cooler bag in his possession, his sandals making scuff marks in the gravel.

He almost died and came back to life when he saw you from behind.

Your clothes were off, your body hugged in a bikini that looked sculpted for you and only you.  The strawberry-print bodice was tied around your neck and below your shoulder blades with thin straps, the front of the suit being held together in the front with a metal ring between the bust.  Your plump breasts peeked over the seams slightly, making blood rush to Ace’s face.  The solid-colored bottoms squeezed your hips and ass perfectly, with one side open and held together with strings in an intricate criss-cross pattern.

Ace’s feet were moving on their own, his soul ascending from his body as he floated toward you.

You heard the rustle of his swim trunks from behind you as you approached, turning to look at him over your shoulder.  “Hey!  All set with the cooler?”

He plopped to his knees on his own towel, the cooler hitting the ground with a thud.  “Yeah, all set…”  His voice trailed off as if he wanted to say something else.

You gazed at him with confusion painting your features.

“You… you look…”  Ace could barely look at you.  “You look so fucking hot… oh my god.”

Suddenly, his demeanor in the car made much more sense.  The constant red flush painting his adorable freckled cheeks, his mouth in a perpetual tongue-tie, his lips pursing together tightly as he struggled to keep his composure.  Your lips pulled into a bright smile, relishing in the flustered behavior of your boyfriend.

“Aww, thank you, baby!” you cooed, moving closer to him.  Your hands trailed down his arm, ghosting over the tattoo on his bicep before teasingly falling to the cooler and unzipping the top, pulling an orange soda out of the bag.

“Please don’t tease me, I think I might explode,” Ace huffed.

You popped open the can with a satisfying click, taking a quick sip from the opening.  “You know… I don’t think anyone’s going to mess with our stuff if you want to go back to the car…”

Ace’s dark eyes darted toward you, assessing the mischievous expression on your face as you kept the cold soda can pressed against your mouth.  The metal was rapidly developing condensation thanks to the heat in the air, droplets of water dripping down the orange can and onto your fingers, plopping against your folded knees.

He carefully removed the soda from your hands, tucking it back into the cooler to make sure it didn’t spill, before standing up and hauling you to your feet, dragging you by your hand across the hot sand and back to the parking lot for a third time.  He ripped his car keys from the pocket of his swim trunks, shoving the metal key into the door lock to open the vehicle before leading you to the trunk and popping open the door.  You quickly clamored inside, him following behind you and closing the trunk from the inside.  He chucked his keys somewhere towards the front of the car.

He wasted absolutely no time in smashing his lips against yours, making you wince slightly at the feeling of his teeth hitting your own, but the way his long fingers expertly groped the skin of your breasts below your bikini top made you forget about the momentary discomfort.

After a few stifling moments, Ace pulled away and heaved into the skin of your neck, holding you down by your shoulders.

The best part about him owning an old, refurbished station wagon was the ample amount of room in the back, as well as the lack of center console between the two front seats.  It was a car built for fucking.

“Is this what you were thinking of on the ride over here?” you asked, a coy tone on your tongue.  “About what my new swimsuit would look like?”

Ace grumbled, a childish pout on his lips as one of his hot hands continued to rub patterns up and down your side.  Up to your breasts, his thumb ghosting over your concealed nipple, trailing down your waist and groping the plush flesh of your belly, down your thigh to squeeze your ass.  The way the strings on the exposed side of your bottom piece fit into your skin made his cock throb.

“You’re insatiable,” you giggled, your own hands leaving scorching patterns over his shoulders and arms.  “Are you ovulating?  You’re acting like me before my period.”

“Shush,” he grumbled, followed by another sweltering kiss, all tongue.  You felt a dribble of spit leave the corner of your mouth, sticking to the skin of your cheek.  His lips moved against yours, exchanging a blistering heat.  Ace always seemed to radiate warmth even on the coldest days, and his presence in this moment filled your body with a heated, lustful buzz.  Goosebumps rose on your skin when he pulled away from you leaving your front exposed, gently biting your puffy lower lip with his teeth.

“How worried are you about someone messing with our things on the beach?” he asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

You adjusted yourself slightly below him, his knees beside your hips caging you onto the floor of his trunk.  “Hmm… not too worried.”

“Perfect,” Ace replied swiftly, tugging his swim trunks down.  

He had such a nice cock, perfectly shaped with a cut tip that flushed a beautiful rosy hue.  A slight upward curve, lean and not too long, perfect.  He was either hard for the entire time you were setting up your small spot on the sand and you hadn’t noticed, or he was fighting with every fiber in his body to keep the erection at bay.  Whatever the circumstance, the fantasy of spontaneously fucking you in the trunk of his car in that sexy bikini of yours that he daydreamed about on the drive down was finally coming true.

Your hands made a move down to your hips to pull on the fabric of your bottoms before his fingers wrapped around your wrists, halting your movement.

“Sorry,” he uttered, his voice a soft whisper filled with a desperation you rarely saw from him.  “Your suit stays on.”

Your mouth morphed into a grin as he released you, leaning back up on his knees and idly stroking his cock with his right hand.  You parted your legs for him, making a show of smushing your breasts together under your tight top.  God, your suit could have been molded onto your body, it looked so good.

“Are you going to stay there and jerk off over me, or are you going to share some of the fun?” you asked deviously, one of your hands crawling below your bottoms and teasing your clit with the slick that had built up.  A pleasant, tingling flutter resonated in your belly and floated down your thighs, but nothing was better than the feeling of his fingers and cock doing the work for you.

“I want to do everything to you,” he muttered, releasing his dick from his slow ministrations.  “I don’t even know where to begin.”

You watched as it bobbed in the air, so hard it held itself out away from Ace’s toned stomach.  You involuntarily licked your lips at the sight.  “You’re so pretty…” you muttered.  You took it upon yourself to sit up, gently pushing against Ace’s shoulders to get him to sit on the trunk floor on his ass, leaning against him further to get the hint to lay down in the position you had just been in.

Neither of you had a strictly dominating or strictly submissive attitude.  Rather, you mutually shared the moment, taking charge when you wanted and snatching the lead away whenever you pleased.  This was one of those moments as you rotated your body on top of his, moving your ass closer to his face as one of your hands ghosted along his hip bone, your other arm supporting you and keeping you upright.

Ace got the hint almost immediately, his greedy hands groping and squeezing your ass as he pulled you downward to rest your clothed cunt against his mouth.  The hotness of his breath and the feeling of his lips against your weeping pussy concealed by the polyester made your breath hitch as your lips traveled closer and closer to the tip of his dick, watching hungrily as it seemed to pulse in the air, desperate for attention.

Your boyfriend made the first move, pulling you down by your hips and resting your cunt over his mouth, his tongue forcing its way between your folds through the suit and quickly finding your clit.  You gasped, your arm shaking somewhat as you quickly followed his lead, wasting no time in taking his cock into your hot, ready mouth.  

And goodness, did he taste good.  A familiar slightly salty musk partnered with the residual scent of his daily body spray, a vanilla and cedar flavor that always made your heart flutter in your chest.  His cock might as well have been burning as you hollowed out your lips and took him further down your mouth, loving the way the organ pulsed against your tongue.  

On the other end, Ace’s fingers had found their way into the fabric of your bathing suit, holding the barrier aside as two of his digits spread your natural slick over your cunt and lubricated his skin before he pressed them into your pussy, addicted to the way your muscles constricted around him.  Your entrance was always on the tighter side no matter how many times you fucked, and it was absolute heaven for him.  He turned the pads of his two fingers forward, pushing gently against the roof of your vagina where he knew you were acutely sensitive, and smirked to himself when your thighs clenched around his head.  Your movements over his cock momentarily stuttered at the feeling of his thumb connecting with your clit to simultaneously stroke the needy bud while passionately fingering your pussy.

He knew you too well.  He knew what you needed.  Ace wasn’t a selfish lover, he had learned your quirks and needs very early on in your relationship.  You loved your clit rubbed in somewhat slow circles, alternating between various pressures.  You responded to his fingers against your g-spot, and you loved when his dick curled upward into the same area.  Not too deep so as to hit your cervix, which hurt you quite a bit, but deep enough to reach those sensitive areas that had your legs shaking.

You learned quickly too, however.  Ace’s tip was the most sensitive part of him, his breaths growing shallow when you delicately sucked your lips around it and trailed your tongue along the slit, collecting the small amount of salty precum that emerged from the tip.  He loved it when you gently fondled his balls, rubbing the wrinkled skin between the pads of your fingers.  He adored the inside of his thighs being caressed, and you tried your best to do both with one hand as the other trembling appendage fought to support your weight as you continued to blow him.

You popped off of his cock momentarily, stroking the base with your hand.  “Did you have fruit recently?” you asked, turning your head somewhat to look over your shoulder.  Not like you could see much.

Ace paused his motions against your pussy.  “... Maybe.”

You grinned, the usually salty, bitter taste of his essence now replaced with something slightly sweeter.  You wanted to egg him on, to ask him if he had planned for this to happen and eaten some pineapple or citrus with his breakfast in preparation, but you decided to keep your inquiries to yourself and return to your task of sucking him off.

Ace was content to keep fingering you, his current position in between your thighs a bit too difficult to involve his tongue, but he knew he could please you regardless.  The circular movements of his calloused thumb against your throbbing clit had you sucking in sharp, lustful breaths through your nose, small whimpers leaving your throat and vibrating down his shaft making him bite his lip and stifle a wheeze.  Your thighs were quivering as he continued to curl his fingers into your g-spot, following the rhythm of your lips around his cock.

After some moments, however, you quickly scrambled off of him, your hand clutching around your stomach as you pivoted above him, capturing his lips in yours.  You ground your clothed cunt over his pulsing cock, keeping it locked between your pussy and his toned abdomen.

“Now who’s the desperate one?” he asked, teasingly, his signature boyish smirk traveling right back to your clit.

“I can’t help it, you’re contagious,” you huffed against the skin of his cheek.

Usually, the two of you used lube.  It didn’t matter how wet you got thanks to foreplay, the sensations were always heightened when there was no risk of chafing.  But clearly, you didn’t have that luxury today.  Nor did you have any condoms.  Instead, you bit down your thoughts, reserved yourself to spending 70 beri on the morning-after pill later that day, and hovered over his cock.  You pulled your swimsuit to the side and took his dick in your hands, wasting no time in slipping it through your folds that were thoroughly drenched thanks to Ace’s expert fingers.  

The first insertion always hurt somewhat.  A slight, red-hot throbbing pain that radiated through your pelvis, followed by a pleasant pressure as his cock slowly intruded into your tight muscle.  The groan that radiated from Ace’s throat made your pussy flutter.  

That was another thing you loved about him.  He was loud.

Maybe on a normal day you’d be worried about someone hearing you, or seeing the way his car shook with the force of your collective moments, but both of you had succumbed to desperation and couldn’t care less.  Traumatize the elderly beach goers who might happen to walk through the gravel parking lot to their own cars.

You sunk fully down onto Ace’s hips, his dick perfectly nestled inside your wet and willing pussy as his hands tightly gripped your hips through your suit bottoms.  You slowly rocked your hips, desperate for some extra friction against your clit.  It was much harder with the fabric covering you, but eventually you found a movement that felt just right.  Edging your hips slightly forward, you rolled your pelvis against his, dragging your clothed slit over the taught skin of his lower abdomen, moaning at the feeling of his dick pulsing within you.

Maybe you really didn’t have to worry about lube today.  Every motion against the walls of your vagina had you biting your lip and arching your back over him.

Ace’s hands assisted with bouncing you on his cock, his voice slowly increasing in volume as he watched you through half-lidded as your breasts jiggled with each movement, how the fat of your belly and thighs rippled so deliciously as you gyrated above him.  His voice was delectable, gruff and whiny, higher-pitched than usual with stuttering breaths and hitches in his throat that had your heart beating a mile a minute.

Your legs were growing tired, and Ace could tell.  He wordlessly beckoned you off of him, being quick to lean you over the back seats and move your suit to the side again, slipping his cock back in between your folds.  This angle always fit the both of you.  As much as Ace loved it when you rode him, taking you from behind came with many more benefits.  His free hand could travel down to dip beneath the cloth of your swimsuit and rub those delicious circles against your clit while simultaneously thrusting his desperate hips against your ass.  His chest pressed into your shoulder blades, his free hand supporting him against the back of the seats as you held onto the leather for dear life, whining with each motion of his cock against your inner walls and his calloused fingers against your clit.

It didn’t take long for you to unravel, the feeling of his rough finger pads against your desperate nub too much to bear.  Your orgasm approached slowly at first, filling your stomach with warmth, the insides of your eyelids flashing purple and indigo, before your body snapped and you were shuddering against Ace, moaning out loud as your pussy involuntarily clenched around his cock, your cunt feeling feather light as it fluttered.  The force of your orgasm caused you to gyrate your hips back against his, weak, airy moans escaping your tongue as the red-hot pleasure radiated through your entire body leaving your pussy buzzing with the aftershocks.

Ace was barely holding it together.  The force of your orgasm causing your pussy to clench around his cock had his arms weakening against the seat, his hips frantically rutting into you as sultry moans left his lips at the feeling of his cock burning inside you, begging for satisfaction.  His fingers never stopped rubbing your clit, caught up in what had essentially become second nature for him.  The overstimulation had you twitching around him, shallow breaths heaving from your lungs.  Ace’s pace increased as did the stuttering of his hips, his thrusts growing more shallow as his own orgasm approached.

“A-Ace… fuck, baby…” you whined, dropping your forehead against the back of the seat.  “You’re gonna make me cum again…”

The man was too caught up in the throes of pleasure.  Calling him desperate earlier was clearly an understatement.  A loud, throaty groan reverberated from his lips as his hips rapidly drilled into you, forcing you against the back of the seat.  His shallow breaths only helped to fuel your second orgasm that rocked you with a sudden wash of white light behind your eyes and you were shuddering against him again, your own moans filling the stifling air of the car.  

Ace barely had time to call out your name before he was thrusting disjointedly into you, crackled, weary moans leaving his lips as he came into your sore cunt, his hands pressing down onto your lower back to keep you still as he buried his cock into you, soaking you more than you already were.  You felt him pull out of you, your cunt fluttering around nothing as the sound of him falling backwards against the closed door of his trunk filled your ears.

Your own spent body dropped to the side, sitting on your hip and barely holding yourself up with one hand.  You slowly picked your head up, gazing at your boyfriend and assessing his condition.

Black hair mussed beyond belief, his freckled cheeks and shoulders flushed with a delicate red hue, his lips wet and swollen parted with the force of his labored breathing.  His eyes were closed, jaw slack as his pelvis continued to twitch from the force of his orgasm.  A few last drops of cum were bubbling from his tip, slowly dripping down his drenched dick that almost glistened, covered in your own fluids.  You felt wet between your legs.  It would have been a nice feeling if you weren’t already so stifling, your entire body feeling sticky.  You finally noticed the way the windows had fogged up.  You didn’t have time to think about carbon dioxide toxicity before Ace’s weary hand traveled up to the back window of his trunk door, blindly popping the window open a crack to let some fresh air flow into the car.  The summer heat felt oddly cool against your sweaty skin.

You slowly crawled closer to Ace, ignoring the way your drenched cunt sat uncomfortably inside your bathing suit.  You combed a damp strand of black hair off of his forehead before delicately pressing your lips against his cheek, encouraging him to finally open his eyes.

“You alright?” you asked, your voice low and quiet.

He finally smiled, his narrow, dark eyes filling your chest with warmth.  “I think my heart almost stopped.”

You giggled, running your sweaty hand up and down his skin.  “Should I wear bathing suits around you more often?  I don’t think you’ve ever fucked me like that.”

Your boyfriend’s humble laughter made you grin.  “For the sake of my health, you probably shouldn’t.”  He finally leaned forward to press a tender kiss against your wet lips.  “Though, if I were to die fucking you in a bikini, I’d die a very, very happy man.”

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Vaggie: "Okay ha ha, very funny. Who stole me and Charlie's laundry out of the dryer again- Angel Dust!"

Angel Dust: "Wasn' me."

Vaggie: "Are you wearing my fucking skirt!?"

Angel Dust: "Ooooh~ it's a FUCKIN' skirt, huh? This one kept special for when Charlie jumps ya?"

Vaggie: "Que te la pique un pollo- NO."

Angel Dust: "Aw c'mon toots, we all know you have one~"

Vaggie: "Give me back. My skirt. You. Ass."

Angel Dust: "Speakin' of... is it really still YOUR skirt, Vagina, if MY ass is the one lookin' so utterly fine and fabulous in it?"

Vaggie: "YOU DONT HAVE AN ASS, ANGEL DUST."

Angel Dust: "Yeah? Then what's this beautiful thang here, hmm?"

Vaggie: "I don't know because there's nothing there for you to even POINT at, twig twink!"

Husk: "HA!"

Angel Dust: "Ugh fiiine. Since you're being nice an' usin' my preferred pronouns-"

Vaggie: "Twig???"

Husk: "Twink."

Angel Dust: "-I'll hand over the girlfriend-fucking skirt. The delicius heat from the dryer's mostly gone now anyway. Jus' lemme grab something to throw on over it first..."

Vaggie: "Seriously? THAT'S why you took it?? Dryer heat?"

Angel Dust: "Next best thing to hot bath at the end of a day's hard work, baby! A day's VERY hard, throbbing, aching work-"

Vaggie: "I will throw this spear at you. I WILL ruin your stupid hair."

Husk: "Fucking do it."

Vaggie: "YOU shut up too. You're the one who taught him this in the first place, aren't you?"

Husk: "WHAT? I don't put on your fucking skirts!"

Angel Dust: "Wha' about her non-fucking ones?"

Husk & Vaggie: "Shut up."

Angel Dust: "Touché~ Protestin' too much, me thinks~”

Vaggie: "Husk- we all know you're the one waiting for the dryer to finish so you can drag the laundry onto the floor and sleep on it!"

Husk: "That's bullshit- you've got no proof-"

Angel Dust: "Cat hair, Mr. Whiskers."

Husk: "The fucking hotel has a cat!"

Vaggie: "That smells like a bar and also sheds feathers?"

Husk: "FUCK."

Angel Dust: "Don't break yourself up over it, kitten daddy- If you hadn't shown me the joys of laundry shopping, I'd never have known how GOOD I look in this jacket."

Vaggie: "???? You- IS THAT CHARLIE'S!?!?"

Angel Dust: "Goes good with the skirt, huh? If you two had a kid, they'd fucking SLAY."

Vaggie: "WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU WEARING HER JACKET"

Angel Dust: "Look- she's the only one in this fancy prancy hotel that's got the same measurements as me, at least in the shoulder, hips, and torso department! The only one who's clothes don't smell like dead deer and dusty old radios, anyway!! I'm kinda low on options here, okay?"

Vaggie: "WHAT ABOUT THE OPTION OF DON'T StEAL OUR STUFF?? THAT'S LIKE, THE EASIEST FUCKING OPTION YOU COULD HAVE!"

Angel Dust: "Orrrrr, you two could adopt me as you gay lovechild and give me some fuckin' hand me downs. Or money."

Vaggie: “OUR WHAT!?”

Angel Dust: “Fuck it, give me money an’ I’ll buy my own clothes, mom.”

Vaggie: “I. Am. NOT-”

Charlie: “-hey guys! Has anyone seen my….”

Charlie: “…uh, Vaggie? Why is Angel Dust dressed like our gay lovechild?”

Angel Dust: “HA!”

Charlie: “And did he just call you ‘mom??’”

Vaggie: “I give up. Anyone needs me, I’ll be in the laundry room, shoving myself in the dryer on the hellfire setting.”

Husk: “You’ll have to fucking drag Niffty out first.”

Vaggie: “What.”

Charlie: “What?”

Angel Dust: “WHAT”

Husk: “She was crawling in head first when I left after waking up- uhh- after getting something.”

Angel Dust: (shrieking) “AN’ YOU LEFT HER THERE???”

Vaggie: “Oh shit-”

Charlie: “Vaggie- go! Fly!! Go go go now Now NOW- EMPLOYEE IN THE INDUSTRIAL CLEANING EQUIPMENT THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!!!”

- meanwhile, in the laundry room-

THUMP THUMP THUMP

THUMP…. Thump………… thump

Alastor: “…”

Alastor: (reaches over to knock on dryer door)  

Alastor: “Having fun, dear?”

Niffty: (flopping limply half out of dryer) (battered) (scorched) (GRINNING) “Ow pain!”

Alastor: “Quite.”

Niffty: “Heheheh… heHEHEHEH.”

Niffty: (sets the dryer to max again) “More…. PAIN!!!” (shuts door from the inside) (grins from other side with her face pressed against the glass)

Alastor: “Fascinating.”

Thump…Thump. Thump. THUMP THUMPTHUMP-

Cherri Bomb: “…”

Cherri Bomb: “…Know what? You kids have fun. I’m just gonna go, like, break into someone’s house and murder them so I can use their washer and dryer. That’ll be less fucked up than….. whatever this is.” (hefts basket of bloody laundry and bombs) (waves over her shoulder while leaving) “Bye~”

[threadbaresweater]

one warm day is all i really need | arthur morgan x reader

Arthur doesn't think you're interested in him any more than you're interested in fishing, which ain't much. You hope he shares even an inkling of the feelings you have for him. It's no surprise to anyone else in camp that there's something between the two of you, and they make sure you get a chance to show each other how you really feel.

The details: 3.9k words. Female reader with a backstory that isn't really elaborated upon in this fic but might be at a later date if I have the spoons; several gang members act as side-characters/wingmen (and women); alcohol and cigarette use; sex (pretty vanilla, but a little rough and intense). NSFW. This is also my first fic for a new fandom, so please be gentle with me. It's been a while.

Arthur first notices your eyes on him one evening around the campfire at Shady Belle. He won’t accuse you of staring– Lord knows he’s been known to look at you with the same foolish grin you’re wearing now– but he tips his hat to acknowledge you. The heat in your cheeks is suddenly warmer than what the fire has already provided; your grin only grows until your teeth are showing, and you duck your head into your shoulder to hide. Arthur takes a long swig from his whiskey bottle and grimaces as it goes down. He hasn't had a drop of anything in days, and the burn takes a little while to grow numb to now. 

“Think she's sweet on you, Morgan,” Sean says in his Irish lilt, giving Arthur an elbow in the ribs. 

“Naw, she's lookin’ at you,” Arthur deflects, though he hopes he's wrong. He thinks he knows.

“She told me last week to keep my eyes on my own work,” Sean continues. “I really don't think it's me she wants, Arthur.”

You turn to whisper something to Sadie, who laughs out loud with her face tilted toward the stars. You dare a glance back at Arthur, who is, in fact, looking at you.

Maybe there's some truth to what Mary Beth told you yesterday.

“Arthur's been awful quiet lately.”

The sun shines through the trees and dapples the table where you're seated with bright spots of pale yellow. It's your third round of dominoes with Mary-Beth, and she's whooping your ass, as usual. You don't know how she does it, but each game you play, you're a little more privy to her prowess. 

“You think so? I don't know him as well as you.” You hope it isn't obvious that your heart started beating a little faster at the mention of his name. It leaves you breathless.

“Oh yeah,” Mary-Beth continues. “He's been scratchin’ away in that journal of his a lot more, too.” She leans closer, conspiratorial, her eyes twinkling with the gossip she's about to share. “Karen said he went to town twice last week to have a hot bath. If you knew Arthur like I know Arthur, why…you'd know that's highly out of character for him.”

“But you said he'd been quiet. Is that unusual for him, too?”

She hums and purses her lips. “Well you see, Arthur isn't usually a man of many words on a good day. But it's been real bad lately. He don't even give John a hard time like usual.”

You ponder the dominoes for a moment and then make your move. It doesn't earn you any points, but at least you didn't have to draw. “What do you think the problem is?” you ask, nonchalant as possible.

Mary-Beth smiles. Big and bright and sparkling. “Oh, it's not a problem at all.” She lowers her voice and cups her hand to her mouth. “Arthur's in love.”

You gasp, then giggle behind your hand, and Mary-Beth follows suit. Hosea looks on and shakes his head, so you quiet down, reaching across to grab Mary-Beth's hands. “Who do you think it is?” 

Her cheeks are tinted pink, and she looks around to make sure there aren't any ears to hear. Word travels fast around camp if one isn't prudent. “I think it's you.”

A thunderstorm rips through Shady Belle a little over a week later. Your little tent that you share with Sadie is ripped straight off its supports in a terrible gust of wind, and you and the others hightail it inside the house to take cover just as it begins to hail. There's quite a ruckus as everyone huddles inside, windblown and rain-soaked. A few of the men hold up lanterns to illuminate the darkness while you watch the lightning and feel the thunder shake the old bones of the house. 

“Everyone just calm down,” Dutch calls, descending the stairs, wearing some ridiculous robe with his arms spread wide. “Are we really gonna let a little old thunderstorm keep us from getting a good night's sleep?”

“Says the man with a bed inside the house,” Arthur bites, rounding the corner from what used to be the kitchen, holding a lantern up high in front of him. “Dutch, you better allow these ladies to take cover in here for tonight, or I'll–”

“Or you'll what, Mister Morgan? Pray tell, what kind of man do you take me for?” Dutch's eyes are fiery as he stares Arthur down; a display of dominance. A veritable cockfight. 

Arthur's jaw twitches, but he doesn't back down. “The kind of man I should hope would have some goddamn respect for his family.”

There's a tense moment or two where everyone is quiet, then Dutch relents. “Fine, fine! But I expect everyone out there pitching in to clean up in the morning.” He points at Arthur and raises his voice again. “That includes the other man with a bed inside the house,” he sneers. 

Arthur shakes his head, then looks away only to catch sight of you, shivering in your wet undergarments, huddled close to Mary-Beth for what little warmth the two of you can share. For a minute, he forgets to breathe, then composes himself enough to cross the room.

“Come on in here. Get yourself warm and dry by the fire.” His hand on your elbow is rough but warm as he leads you toward the fireplace. You nod and look back at Mary-Beth, who shoos you away with a flick of her wrist and a wink; you notice that her teeth are chattering. Despite the humidity that hangs heavy in the air, the temperature has turned chilly with the storm.

Arms crossed over your bosom to preserve any shred of modesty you might have left, you allow yourself to be led away by Arthur. Dutch and some of the others head upstairs while Charles and Javier keep watch from the front porch. 

“You alright?” Arthur asks. He covers your shoulders with one of his heavy winter coats, and you pull it around you, grateful for the weight and warmth of it. Another clap of thunder shakes the house and you jump. Arthur chuckles.

“You laughin’ at me?” you quip, placing your palms flat in the direction of the fireplace. You don't even bother to hide the grin you feel curling on your lips. 

“No madam, I am not,” Arthur says earnestly, taking a seat beside you on the old wooden crate he's set up as a makeshift bench. 

“Then just what do you find so funny, Mister Morgan?”

He scratches the back of his neck, looking into the flames. “Aw, I dunno. I'm sorry. It's just that you're…” 

You bump him with your hip, unable to stop the giggles that bubble up from your chest. “I'm what?” you pry.

There's a clatter of something falling on the front porch, and Arthur uses it as a good excuse to get out of this hole he's dug for himself. “I better go see what's going on out there. Charles might need my help.” 

“I'm what, Arthur?!” you call, to no avail. He's gone before he can see the proverbial hearts in your eyes.

The saloon in Rhodes is a little nicer than the ones you visited in Valentine, though it's a far cry from the ones you used to frequent in Saint Denis. Still, when Sadie and the other girls decide that it's high time you have a little fun in town, you throw on your best dress and let Karen curl your hair and even apply a little of the makeup you snagged from a homestead up north. For the first time in months, you feel like a proper woman. There isn't time to be melancholy about the past, though, when the boys start whistling and cat-calling upon the sight of you and the other girls.

“Aw, knock it off!” Sadie hollers. She's decided to dress up a little tonight, too, much to everyone's surprise. But she hikes up her skirts to hop into the wagon, calling for the rest of you all to hurry it up. “I've got a bottle of rum with my name on it that's waiting for me to come drink her all down!”

You catch the sunset on the way to town. It's dazzling over the meadows, all golden light and warm, blazing oranges and reds that settle into a brilliant pink by the time your reach the main road into Rhodes. You wish you could see Arthur's eyes, but he's got a handle on the reins next to Charles in the front of the wagon. You've seen him watching the sunset before; he always looks so peaceful those evenings at camp, and you often wonder what he thinks about in those few minutes before the horizon is painted in pastel hues.

Karen starts singing a song that everyone eventually joins, and before you know it, you're pulling up in front of the Rhodes Parlour House. You can already hear the piano and a few voices from outside; the sound of it stirs something in your soul that makes you long for the familiarity of home, but you quickly shove it aside in favor of the company of your new family.

“Madam.” Arthur's voice brings you out of your thoughts and back into the present, where he waits at the back of the wagon with his hand extended to you. You beam at him, and he feels dizzy. And when your soft hand fits into his, he straightens his knees so they don't buckle and betray him.

“Why, thank you, kind sir,” you say, lifting the hem of your skirts to step out onto the dirt road. 

Arthur leans in, dangerously close to your ear. You can smell the whisky and cigarettes on his breath, along with the faint tang of gunpowder and hair pomade. “You sure do look nice in that dress.”

You demure and fan yourself with your hand. “Just how much have you had to drink already tonight?” you giggle.

“Ahh, just a little nip to take the edge off.” 

“Mm-hm. Sure, Arthur. Whatever you say.”

The night starts off relatively calm, as most nights do. You and the other girls find an empty table to sit and pick up on the town gossip, and the men start a hand of poker. It grows loud and crowded sometime around midnight, and it's hard to have a conversation without shouting over the din of voices, the clink of glass bottles, and the slow drag ragtime music from the piano. The ambiance is charming and lighthearted, and there are even a few couples drunkenly dancing on the porch.

You push back in your chair and find that when you stand, you're a little more wobbly than you thought you would be. The alcohol has loosened you more than you realize, and you grip the table for support until you feel a firm arm around your waist. “Whoa there.” 

It's Arthur, who has won the last round of poker and has come to check in on you and the other ladies. You're pulled tight against his chest for one fleeting moment, and you look up into his eyes. He, too, seems drunk, with his eyes gleaming and drooping at the corners, his smile easy and his cheeks flushed. 

“My knight in shining armor,” you slur, pretending to faint in his embrace. He only pulls you tighter against him, both of his broad hands splayed across your back. You laugh, and he smiles.

“You weren't getting another drink, were ya?” he questions with a raise of his brow.

“‘m thirsty,” you whine, lifting your empty glass entirely too close to his face. It knocks against his nose, which sends you into another fit of laughter.

Arthur takes your wrist– gentle but firm– and lowers the glass away. “Think you need to drink something that's not whiskey,” he drawls. You can't help but watch the way his lips form around the words; the slip of his tongue between his teeth, the way his mouth turns up into the hint of a smile when you pout. Before you can think too long and hard about it, you lunge forward and kiss him. Hard and clumsy and impulsive. You don't give him time to react. You're far too involved in the kiss to notice, but the girls at the table behind you have all gone silent. Arthur slides his hand along the side of your face and presses his fingers upon the nape of your neck, kissing you back like he really means it. (He really does.)

You pull back suddenly, breathless and reeling, swiping the back of your hand over your mouth. You're still held firm in his embrace, but the playfulness in his gaze has been replaced with an intensity that makes your knees weak all over again.

“What'd ya do that for?” he asks.

“Could ask you the same thing.”

“Well, you started it.”

“And you finished it.”

“Oh, I ain't finished with you, yet.”

“That a promise or a threat?” Your pulse is thumping wildly in your ears.

“Ya know, they got rooms upstairs for that!” Sadie shouts. There's a ripple of laughter across the table. Arthur's hand on your cheek feels like a brand, his arm about your waist an anchor. The rest of the room comes back to you in a woozy blur, and you look around, a little lovestruck and a whole lot drunk. Arthur's lips at your temple make your eyes flutter shut, and the room fades to black as tIt'weight of you slumps against him. He staggers only slightly, but holds you firm, chuckling softly.

“It's a promise,” he whispers.

You come to some hours later. Your mouth is dry as the desert, your head feels like lead, your skin broken out in a cold, uncomfortable sweat. At some point, it seems you were covered with a downy soft blanket, and the pillow at your head is much more fluffy than the makeshift one you made out of a bedroll at camp. At first, you think you're dreaming. Then, you wonder very briefly if you're back at your childhood home in Saint Denis. You almost call out to your mother when you hear a soft snore from the other side of your bed. 

The room spins when you turn your head, and you rub your eyes until Arthur comes into focus. He's sprawled in an armchair a few feet away. His arms are crossed over his chest while his chin is tucked into his chest. Off to the side, you spy his boots; his big toe pokes through a hole in his sock and you smile at how vulnerable he looks.

“Arthur,” you whisper, shifting slightly as you pull the blanket up around your chin.

He grunts and lifts his head slowly. He frowns a little at first, but when he focuses on you lying there, so close he could reach out and kiss you again like he did last night, there's a slow, easy smile that spreads across his face.

“Hey there, party girl. You feeling alright?”

You could kick yourself for all the giggling you've done around him lately, but you can't help it. He brings out something giddy and downright foolish inside you, so you toss a pillow at him and bury your face in the sheets.

“Aw, come on now. I'm just messin’ with ya.” He leans forward and rubs your head affectionately. “I'd say you were feeling pretty good last night.”

It's in that moment a white-hot jolt of sheer panic shoots down your spine. Quickly, you check to make sure you're still wearing clothes. Aside from your breasts being a little lopsided in the confines of your bodice, you're relieved to find that your dress is still intact and– more importantly– on your body. You dare another peek at Arthur and notice that his shirt is unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest and he's discarded his vest somewhere, but he, too, is fully clothed. Thank the good Lord above. 

You must've said that last part aloud, because Arthur laughs. “Don't worry, nothing happened. Though it weren't for lack of tryin’ on your part,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “Thought I was gonna have to lock you in here like some feral cat till you settled down.”

Oh. Oh Lord. You try to recall what happened that led you to this room, but all that comes to mind is a lot of loud conversation, some dancing, a spilled drink across Sadie's lap, and Arthur's hand on the side of your cheek. “Oh…”

Now you remember it in vivid detail.

“Didn't know you cared for me like that,” he says. It's earnest and tender, a few shades less intense than the kiss you now recall, the one where it felt like he wanted to eat you alive right there in the middle of the saloon. Now, he thumbs your cheek and looks at you so fondly you swear your heart jumps right up in your throat. “I mean, I'd been hoping. Wasn't sure you was looking for a romance.” He huffs a short sigh, frustrated with himself. “Aw, hell, what am I saying? ‘Course you weren't. You're just looking to survive, just like the rest of us, and here I–”

“Shut up,” you say, taking hold of his hand and tugging him closer. He resists until you pull even harder, watching the fire in your eyes blaze to life. “You talk too much, Yankee.”

“I ain't no damn–”

“Kiss me.”

He's over you in an instant; you're pressed flat against the bed, completely and totally at his mercy. This kiss feels different than the drunken one last night. It's sober and honest, if not a little hesitant, as if he's holding himself back from devouring you wholly. The warmth of his body against yours takes your breath away. Or maybe it's the way his tongue laves heavy into your mouth, unashamed of how badly he craves the taste of you. You grip his hair at the roots and tug him down to kiss him harder, lifting your upper body to meet him until he presses down, his chest flush with yours. 

Things get heated quickly.

His mouth moves across your cheek, down your neck, and he groans against your skin, rutting his cock against your thigh. You fleetingly wish that he had managed to get you out of that dress before he presumably tucked you into bed and passed out in that chair, because there’s a whole lot of fabric between you and him that really pisses you off right now. Arthur must feel much the same, because he’s bunching your skirts up past your knees while you’re fumbling with his belt buckle, desperate to feel him against you, inside you. It’s clumsy and crazed, rushed and rough, but you manage somehow to shuck off every last bit of your clothes and his until you’re breathless and so, so eager beneath him.

“Need you now,” you whine. You feel insane. Dizzy and dehydrated, impossibly turned on, every nerve ending on fire when his callused hands grip the fat of your thighs and open you to him. 

“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?” One of his hands slips between your legs to find you wet and swollen. He presses the pad of his thumb against your clit and pushes a finger inside you; the sound you make nearly has him finishing there on the sheets, so he wastes no time in getting himself as close to you as humanly possible. 

“Never wanted something so bad,” he murmurs into the dip of your shoulder. He wants all of you– all at once– wants to fuse his hands against your skin and sink himself into you so deep that it would be impossible to tell where he ends and you begin. The heat from his body takes away what little breath you have left, his mouth on each part of your body building the buzz in your chest until you feel like you might just burst open. You grab at each other like it's the first and last time you might have this opportunity, as if you want more than what the other of you is able to give.

Considering the kind of life you’ve both led so far, it’s a good possibility that you might never get to do this again.

“Give it to me,” you plead, opening yourself further to him, fingers wrapped firm around the base of his cock. “Please.”

Arthur Morgan is a man of incredible strength and self restraint, except when it comes to a woman like you.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he takes you. It’s primal, sweaty, filthy, rough. Arthur pushes as far inside you as he can go, then pushes further when you beg for more. He cups your knees with slick palms and presses you open as far as you can bend; you tug roughly at his hair and bite down on his shoulder when the pleasure builds to a blinding ferocity. The wooden bedframe knocks angrily against the wall with each thrust, but you can’t bring yourself to care if anyone hears. You can’t focus on anything beyond the feeling of him filling you with every stroke of his cock, of the taut, corded muscle in his back and shoulders as you grapple to hang on as tight as you can. Your orgasm hits your hard and fast, and he encourages you through it, taking his time to give you long, controlled strokes. It’s as pleasurable for him as it is for you. “‘Atta girl,” he rasps, lips moving against your ear. Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle your cries, but he pulls it away and threads his fingers with yours, pressing it onto the pillow. “I wanna hear it.”

Your moans are what drive him over the edge.

He buries his face against the side of your neck, panting heavily as he comes, driving into you so hard that you can almost feel the mattress beneath you begin to sag under the weight. You cradle his head in your hands and link your legs around his waist, boneless and languid in the aftermath of your own pleasure. When he moves, you move with him, riding out the waves together until you’re both too tired to move another muscle.

Neither of you speak for a while. He lies on his back with an arm around your shoulders while you curl against him, tuned into his heartbeat and swirling little patterns into the hair on his chest. It’s comforting to feel him next to you, to watch his chest rise and fall as he steadies his breathing, to soak up the warmth of his skin against yours. 

You’re the first to break the silence. “Did everyone else go back to camp last night?”

Arthur nods slowly. “Something tells me they planned all this.”

“Planned it? You mean…” You lift your arm slowly and flick your wrist to acknowledge the room you’re laying in. “This?” You lift your chin and grin at him. “Or getting us together?”

“Room was paid for before I even had a chance to ask if they had one,” he explains. “Think it was Mrs. Adler.”

You vaguely recall her shouting something about a room after you kissed Arthur last night, and you shake your head. “You complaining?”

He turns to his side, draping an arm across your hip. “Me? Never.” You’re suddenly pressed beneath him once again; from the looks of it, you won’t be getting out of this bed anytime soon. “Specially when I’ve got you here to help me keep warm.”

[s-coquette]

thinking about @charliemwrites mean ghost!!

charlie is literally one of my favourite writers on here, any thought™️ that crosses their mind makes me get brain worms. this is my first time writing anything like this so i hope it isn’t a complete disaster :,)

Johnny gets sent out on deployment without Simon for a couple weeks. This mission needing his demolitions expertise more than anything else. Leaving poor you to face Simon’s wrath alone.

While Johnny is home it’s easy to avoid him. Just hunker down next to the Scotsman and deal with his clingy and annoying self, anything but having to interact with the mammoth of a man.

He’d barely glance at you at first, leaving you to Johnnys care, having him bathe you, dress you, hold you, basically a small child with its new favourite doll.

You thought that the piercing gazes he sent you with his honey brown eyes were an indication of how much he hated you. Maybe you were getting too much of his boys attention? Were you hogging him? Were you acting out in some way that you hadn’t noticed? All of this made you extremely nervous to be in Simon’s presence, hearing him breathe next to you sent shivers down your spine.

The air was tense around you, the giant man in front of you made you feel like he was taking up all of the oxygen in the room. Casting a shadow over you from where he stood, a foot away.

“What’re you lookin’ at?”

The loud drawl of his Manchester accent and raw voice made your chest shake. You snapped your eyes back at him, realising you spaced out in fear. His arm, which was probably wider than your head, reached out behind you.

“Wh-“

A dawn of realisation fell on you when you heard a glass clink behind your head. You were standing there like an idiot while he was trying to grab a mug.

“I’m sorry-“

You slinked back to the other end of the kitchen, your pop tarts left on the counter next to him. It felt like poking the bear to even try to reach for them.

Simon’s eyebrow quirked in response, like he was waiting for something as you stared at him leaning against the marble countertops.

“I’m- I’m sorry, sir.”

You think you saw his lips curl up under the simple black balaclava when he heard the loud panicked inhale from you, in the addition of your eyes stinging with tears.

His eyes fell down to the opened bag of sweets you left on the counter, which you were munching on without even heating up. His sight then fell on you, chewing on your lip in fear while staring at the same thing.

“Y’want this?”

His calloused big fingers reached around and grabbed the pop tarts, throwing them up in the air unceremoniously and showing them off to you, like a forbidden fruit.

“N-Nevermind, I’m not hungry anymore-“

You tried to hurry out before his loud booming voice interrupted you.

“Hold on, you’re not goin’ anywhere.”

You freeze, slowing turning on your heels and staring at him.

“C’mere, kitty.”

You gulp and stare at him, his piercing stare making your hands shake.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

His voice now cold, eyes narrowing. That was the only sign you needed to spring to action. Almost throwing yourself across the island, you stood in front of him again. The situation somehow even tenser than before.

“Now be a good kitty and meow for me, then you’ll get your treat.”

You could hear the smug smirk in his voice without even having to see it. A cold sweat washed over you as you thought about what to do to escape this situation.

“I’m listening.”

His tone warning again.

“meow..”

The little peep that left you seemed to give him great entertainment as you watched his eyes crinkles like he was grinning.

“I ought to teach you some manners since the mutt clearly can’t.”

You frowned at what he meant by ‘teach’, not even wanting to imagine it.

Your endless thoughts were interrupted by getting smacked in the chest with your unfinished bag of pop tarts, scrambling to grab at them before they fell on the floor.

“Now scram.”

And you did just that.

[hoshigray]

Let me get this out of my system before I forget: toji x fem! reader, both assassins who take each other's missions. But on the one occasion you work together, Toji feels that no good deed goes unrewarded. Cw: dom! toji - fem! reader - mating press - praise - toji acts cocky the first half but is a soft menace in the other half - pet names (baby, sweetheart, sweetie, darlin', good girl, princess) - drool/mention of sloppy kissing - mention of overstimulation (fem! receiving). Cw: 708

You and Toji are the top assassins in the league, and titles like that spark competition. You constantly outdo each other, taking up his missions because you need the money, and taking yours because he's a petty bastard. Flashing a snarky grin at you whenever he walks by, his canine peaking under the scar on his lips. He knows you hate him and finds it adorable how you roll your eyes whenever you see him.

But you two make an excellent team when you go on missions together! Not that it matters to you two because you both argue about the other's performance; he's too messy and carefree, and you're way too cautious and like to take your sweet time.

Exhaling a heavy sigh, exhausted from the mission and his reckless behavior, you turn on your heel to head home. But Toji calls out to you, "I'm gonna grab somethin' to eat, wanna join?

The quirk of your brow doesn't go unnoticed. "Relax, it's on me. Think of it as a reward for not being a complete thorn in my side today."

You scoff. "Yeah right." After Toji's multiple pleas more like teasing than pleading, you agree to accompany him to dinner. However, you keep your guard up while you're with him. Even if it's past work hours, that doesn't mean he can't pull something out of his ass.

Well, that promise did nothing for you as you're crying, panting, and making the most embarrassing noises you never thought you could make.

Folded into your life's most intense mating press, Toji surveys your disheveled appearance in relish. Sweat and cum connect your bodies together while drool slides down from your mouth. His hips go at an irrational pace that has you see stars, and the sounds of his balls smacking your wet folds make you hide your face in shame. Why the hell did I get myself into this situation? I could've just turned and gone home!

"Haaaah, shit..." His hoarse groans compel you to squeeze around him even tighter. He jolts a bit, smirking at your body's reaction."Haha, damn, baby. Had I known I'd see you like this earlier, I'd — hnngh! Oh shit" Toji moves your legs further with his shoulders, his body weight pushing onto you and making you feel so helpless being trapped under him like this.

"Hey, c'mon now," He chuckles when he sees your face is still covered up. He uses one hand to remove them, trapping them above your head. "Don't wanna miss the perfect view, sweetheart."

Through watered eyes in a haze, you stare up at the man making you feel so fucking good tormenting you. The bedroom lights behind him make Toji appear so deliciously alluring, his tanned skin bathed in sweat that some strands of his hair stick to his forehead. With blatant lust looming over his eyes, you feel small under his sharp emerald orbs.

A small chuckle escapes his lips. "Damn, sweetie, lookin' so beautiful fr' me, ya know that?" He surprises you with a deep thrust, and a sudden yelp becomes sweet music to his ears. "My beautiful darlin'."

You immediately turn to the side, biting your bottom lip before he sees it quiver. "Aht aht, don't do that." He's quick to grab your chin to face him again. "You can't hide from me, not like this." He draws closer to press his lips onto yours and you melt on the spot. You instantly become a mewling mess, his sloppy kisses turning your brain into mush.

And it doesn't stop there, of course not. He then slithers his hand down to your clit, giving it unnecessary yet gracious attention for being disregarded.

That was it for you, your walls spasming around his cock as you cream onto him, your euphoric orgasms taken by his ravaging mouth. He breaks the kiss to see a trail of spit still linking the two of you.

"Good girl," He praises you as he lets you ride out your high, admiring how pretty you look. However, "Sorry, baby, but I still gotta finish here." He grinds his hips into your messy cunt, the overstimulation nearly choking you in your own spit. "Stay with me for a few minutes, okay, princess?"

[lilacura]

Silent echoes | Jang Wonyoung

pairing: wonyoung x reader

>wc: 1.3

sypnosis: A story of love silenced by circumstance, where two hearts yearn for each other in the quiet spaces between their broken dreams.

It was late and the dorm was empty as the other members were all out for schedules. Y/n couldn't stand another moment apart from Wonyoung and snuck into her room, hoping for some private time together. 

When she entered, Wonyoung was sleeping peacefully, bathed in moonlight. Y/n's heart swelled at the sight of her beautiful girlfriend and she slipped quietly into bed, curling up behind Wonyoung and placing a gentle kiss on her neck. 

Wonyoung stirred with a content sigh, instinctively pressing back against Y/n's body seeking her warmth. "I missed you," she murmured sleepily, lacing their fingers together against her stomach. 

Y/n nuzzled into Wonyoung's hair, breathing in her familiar scent and feeling at peace for the first time that day. "I missed you too, baby. I hate being apart from you," she whispered, placing another soft kiss to Wonyoung's shoulder.

They laid together in a tender embrace, savoring the rare moment of intimacy in a world where they had to hide their love. Y/n gently turned Wonyoung over to face her, cupping her cheek as their eyes met in the dim light. 

Leaning in slowly, Y/n pressed her lips to Wonyoung's in a sweet kiss filled with longing. Wonyoung kissed her back gently, wrapping her arms around Y/n's neck to pull her closer. Lost in the feeling of being together again, they didn't hear the door creak open.

"What is going on here?" a stern voice demanded, freezing them in place. Y/n and Wonyoung quickly broke apart to see their manager standing in the doorway, eyes wide with shock and disapproval. 

In that instant, their secret was out.

The CEO's reaction was even worse than Y/n had imagined in her worst nightmares. He raged at them for 'betraying the company' and threatened to disband the group entirely over the scandal. Through tears, Y/n and Wonyoung begged for mercy, promising it would never happen again if he spared their careers.

In the end, he gave them an ultimatum - end things immediately and publicly, or be removed from the group. Faced with losing their dreams, Y/n and Wonyoung had no choice but to comply. 

The next day, a statement was released confirming the 'breakup.' From that moment on, they weren't allowed private interactions and could only communicate when necessary for work. 

Being near Wonyoung but unable to comfort her was torture for Y/n. She saw how much pain the younger girl was in, barely holding herself together during schedules. All Y/n wanted was to take Wonyoung in her arms and promise everything would be okay, but she was forbidden from even a consoling touch.

Rumors swirled among fans about what really happened between them, but the company's story was that they had grown apart romantically and remained close friends. Y/n felt like her heart was ripped in two each time she had to play along with the lie for the cameras.

Weeks passed in a blur of tears and loneliness. Y/n threw herself into practice to distract from her aching heart, pushing her body to the limit each session. The other members worried for her health but didn't know how to help without crossing the line. 

Late one night after an especially grueling practice, Y/n collapsed from exhaustion in the dorm. When she woke, she found herself in an empty practice room with a note - 'Drink this, it will make you feel better. I'm always here if you need me.' 

Y/n's eyes filled with fresh tears recognizing Wonyoung's handwriting. She drank the warm tea gratefully, comforted just by the younger girl's thoughtfulness even from afar. Clutching the note to her chest, Y/n let herself break down in quiet sobs, missing Wonyoung more than ever.

The next few weeks, similar anonymous gifts of comfort would appear for Y/n - a favorite snack, a handwarming pack, a soft blanket. It gave her strength, knowing Wonyoung was looking out for her wellbeing despite the separation. 

One rainy Saturday, Y/n returned to the dorm feeling particularly low. As she opened the door to her room, she was surprised to find Wonyoung sitting on her bed holding a bundle of letters.

"I couldn't stay away anymore. I miss you so much it hurts," Wonyoung said in a small voice, eyes brimming with tears matching Y/n's own. 

In an instant they were in each other's arms, clinging together as the dam broke, both sobbing from the overload of pent up emotions. Between gasping breaths they poured out how much the other meant, that being apart was unbearable. 

Their love was too powerful to deny, consequences be damned. From that night on they began sneaking secret meetings under the cover of darkness, stealing what moments they could to rekindle their relationship away from prying eyes. 

It was a delicate balancing act, hiding in plain sight from managers and fans alike. But every stolen kiss, every tender whisper was worth the risk to Y/n and Wonyoung. As long as they had each other, they could weather any storm.

Three more bittersweet months passed this way until their resolve was put to the ultimate test. During end of year evaluations, the CEO shockingly suggested removing one of the members who was 'underperforming.' 

Y/n and Wonyoung knew in their hearts he meant to tear them apart permanently by ousting one of them from the group. They refused to let that happen no matter the cost. Gathering their courage, they went to his office hand in hand.

"We love each other and always will, no matter what you do to try and change that. If you take one of us, you lose us both. Our careers and dreams mean nothing without each other by our sides," Y/n declared boldly, Wonyoung nodding in agreement beside her. 

As Y/n stood in the CEO's office, hand in hand with Wonyoung, her heart pounded with both hope and fear. But as the CEO's decision unfolded, it shattered her dreams like fragile glass. With a cold, calculated voice, he pronounced that Y/n would be the one removed from the group.

Devastation washed over Y/n as the weight of his words settled in her chest like a heavy stone. She felt Wonyoung's grip on her hand tighten, but it offered little solace in the face of such crushing disappointment.

Tears welled in Y/n's eyes as she watched Wonyoung, silently pleading for reassurance, for a sign that their love could withstand this new trial. But all she saw was resignation in Wonyoung's eyes, a silent acceptance of the CEO's decree.

In the days that followed, Y/n's world crumbled around her. She tried to reach out to Wonyoung, to cling to the one constant in her life, but there was no response. Confusion gnawed at her heart as she wondered what she had done wrong, why Wonyoung had turned her back on her so suddenly.

Each unanswered call, each ignored message felt like another blow to Y/n's already fragile spirit. She spiraled into a dark abyss of loneliness, her days haunted by the echoing silence of Wonyoung's absence.

Finally, Y/n stumbled upon Wonyoung's social media profiles, only to find herself blocked on every platform. The realization hit her like a dagger to the heart, tearing open wounds she didn't even know she had.

Alone and abandoned, Y/n sank deeper into despair, her once bright future now nothing but a distant memory. She couldn't bear to face the world without Wonyoung by her side, couldn't fathom a life where their love was nothing but a fading echo of what once was.

In the end, Y/n retreated into the shadows, consumed by grief and regret. She would never forget the love she shared with Wonyoung, but in this cruel world, sometimes love simply wasn't enough. And as the days stretched into endless nights, Y/n resigned herself to a lifetime of heartache, forever haunted by the ghost of a love lost.

a/n: hai :3

[the-kr8tor]

I'm back! 🤭 can I get hobie who's friends with a goofy but oblivious reader. They're both crushing but reader thinks he's just being friendly(i mean look how he sweet he is with miles, gwen, and pav. How could he like me like me pfft you guys are silly). Like they match his flirty vibes and touchiness and everyone thinks they're dating but nah readers just like that and hobies like I don't know what we are but one of these days I'll just kiss them and hope for the best(if he did it'd be the shocked oh before the can you do that again from them?)🥰 It's totally not because I'm that silly friend who flirts with all her friends but can't take a hint when someone likes her unless they litteraly throw it in my face.

Hi hun! Thank you for requesting!! Sorry this took a bit. Hope you like it ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x spidey! Reader/ Spider-Punk x spidey! Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Lovestruck Hobie, FLUFF.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You're on a stakeout with Hobie, perched on top of a skyscraper, he sits next to you on the dirty ledge, eyes fixated on the two m&m's wedged between your index and thumb, the blue one is on your right, on your left is the green one, looking worse for wear. Hobie's eyes are glued on your fingers squeezing on both m&m's like he's watching his favourite band play in front of him. His arm is looped around your shoulder, providing much needed warmth from the cool air.

"Green's not lookin' too good, love" he says too close to your ear, breath fanning over your cheek

"We'll see" you squeeze harder on the candies, the blue one cracks under the pressure, chocolate spills over your fingers. "Tough luck for you, Hobie" you grin at him, holding the cracked candy for him.

"Best of 11?" He asks, grabbing your wrist, bringing the chocolate over to his mouth. You're sure he can feel your pulse thumping against your wrist.

"Told you to pick green" a smug look on your face, hiding what you're really feeling.

"What can I say, I like rooting for the underdogs"

Before you could reply, your communicator rings. Popping the small bubble of relaxation you've both created.

"Sorry to interrupt, lovebirds" Gwen's voice rings out on your bracelet "time to switch it up"

You sigh, completely missing Gwen's first sentence, Hobie retracts his arm away, disappointing you both. Standing to your full height, "well, I'll see you in a few hours", quickly popping the candy in your mouth, you grab your mask, pulling it down, Hobie stops you halfway.

"Wait" he takes a few steps towards you, thumb over the edge of your lips. Your heart stops, thinking he's gonna make his move.

You've been crushing on him for a while now, but you could never make out whether his touches and flirty comments are completely platonic or romantic, considering he's always like that to his friends. So unless he says otherwise you'll always see him as being friendly towards you.

He rubs his thumb over the tip of your lips "you got chocolate on it" Hobie wipes the last bits off. Definitely just friendly though, right?

"Thanks" you murmur out, heat rising on your cheeks.

For Hobie though, he almost kissed you right there and then, with how the moonlight shines overhead bathing you in its glow, how could he not? He's sure your lips would taste of chocolate if he did. But he stops, realizing it's probably not the right time since you're both standing on a dirty rooftop. He wants to make it perfect for you and finally cement your relationship.

Hobie taps your covered cheek fondly, "watch your back"

"You watch yours" you pat his chest, Hobie's breathing stops for a second.

Hobie drops and swings away towards the other stakeout location before he could cave in and actually kiss you.

You turn your back, swinging towards your designated location. Dropping down next to Gwen. She's looking through her binoculars watching and waiting for the anomaly to appear.

"Finally, took your sweet time with loverboy" She tosses the binoculars, you fumble with it for a second before you catch it. Her hands are poised on her hips, head tilted accusingly to you.

"He's not my 'loverboy'. He's just a friend" you look through the binoculars, hiding how her comment flustered you.

"Mm-hmm sure, friends definitely look at eachother like that. And they definitely feed each other chocolates from your fingers"

You move your neck a little bit too fast, eyes widening at her. "You were listening in?"

"Hey, not my fault!" Her hands are up in a surrender "you do know our communicators are all on and connected for this mission, right?"

"Oh my god!" You squeak out, hands flying towards your face in embarrassment. "Why didn't you tell us?" You peak through your fingers.

"I tried to! But Lyla stopped us, she said something about friends to lovers, slowburn seventy k or whatever that means"

"Us?! Pav heard too?!" You move your hands over your head, wishing invisibility is in your arsenal of spidey powers. You look at your bracelet.

"Don't worry Lyla turned it off now, she said there's no drama anymore since you're not partnered up now" Gwen reassures you. "It's okay! We all know you're together" she puts a comforting hand on your back, patting it softly.

Your eyes almost pop out of its sockets, mouth agape "we're not together!"

"What?" Gwen chuckles "you sure?"

"Why? Did he say something?" Hope sparks in your chest. Were you in a relationship this entire time? It's not that you'll protest against it, hell you'll even welcome it, saves you the awkward 'asking him out' part. Were you that dense?

"No, with how touchy you both are, we all thought you were together" Gwen shrugs.

"Huh?! What do you mean everyone?!"

"Everyone, the entire spider society. Honestly Miguel's been thinking about setting up an HR department because of your pda"

You crumble to your feet, embarrassment flooding your body. Sure you're also very affectionate to your friends, especially Hobie, but you never thought in a million years that people actually thought you're together.

Meanwhile, Pavitr's been gushing to Hobie about what he heard (and seen, he and Gwen might've glanced your way for a bit) between the two of you.

"You two were so cute!" Pav shakes Hobie's arm.

"Yeah, yeah" if he squints hard enough, he can see you talking to Gwen. "You didn't even bother telling us about the communicator?"

Pav stops in his tracks, chuckling while rubbing the back of his neck "I tried to, bro! But Lyla said It's important for the mission"

"Sure" that's not new, Lyla has been trying to finally get you two together for a while now. He sees you drop to your knees, but he can't make out why you're on the floor.

As if Pavitr senses Hobie's feelings, he pipes up "don't worry, they like you too. Just tell it to them straight"

"I know they like me too, I just don't know what we are"

"Dude, everyone already thinks you're dating, they're just a bit dense, no offense"

Hobie scoffs "don't care what they think" he stops, looking at Pav with a confused look. "What do you mean dense?"

"I didn't mean it in a bad way! It's just– I don't think they know that you like them" Pavitr bounces on the balls of his feet.

Huh, so that's why you've never initiated anything, or even told me you like me. Hobie thinks, everything makes sense now. Your shy smiles and tentative flirting back fits right in like a missing puzzle piece. You don't know. He's never confessed to someone before, maybe he should just kiss you and hope for the best.

You pace around the small rooftop "it's silly, he can't actually like me, right?"

Gwen opens her mouth to speak but you keep talking to yourself, like you're trying to convince yourself how could Hobie like you more than a friend would? "Like seriously, how can he like me? He's like that with everyone! He's just being friendly y'know. You're so silly, Gwendy" you ramble on, laughing loudly, a little too crazy of a laugh for Gwen's liking.

"Okay, you clearly like him back" Gwen sighs, exasperated, shaking your form like she's trying to wake you up "Just tell him" She moves to the side showing you where Hobie stands on the opposite rooftop, his and Pav's body a small dot in your eyesight. You look at Gwen confused, he's a bit too far for a confession, but you throw caution into the wind, Gwen's encouraging words pushing you to just do it. Cupping your hands over your mouth into a makeshift megaphone.

"Hobie!" You scream loud enough to get his attention, you see him raise his arm. Gwen stands next to you, facepalming. "I like you!"

"What?!" Hobie yells back, mirroring your stance, he genuinely didn't hear you. Pavitr stands next to him, groaning. Yep you're perfect for eachother. He thinks.

Gwen murmurs out "love makes you so stupid" she taps a few buttons on her bracelet opening the line of communication for the team.

"I like you!" You shout it again, this time Hobie hears it loud and clear. He doesn't waste a second, jumping from the roof, he swings as fast as he could to you.

Lyla's hologram appears, a popcorn in her hand, she squeals "it's happening!" Gwen side eyes her, wishing she had some popcorn too. She stands a bit farther away giving you both space, seeing Pav jumping up and down from his roof.

Hobie lands breathlessly in front of you, hands waiting to break that barrier between you.

"Hi" you smile shyly.

"Hi" He cups your face in his hands, carefully sliding off your mask until he can see you in all your glory. "There you are"

"Here I am" you could only manage to bracelet his wrists with your hands, breathing matching his.

Hobie bites the bullet, "can I?" Tapping your lips with his pointing finger.

You swallow down "mm-hmm"

"Need you to use your words, love" He needs you to say it, just in case it goes over your head again. Hobie removes his mask in one swift move, quickly putting his hand back to your face.

Gwen takes this as a sign to leave, swinging towards an excited Pav. Lyla's hologram stays to the side, eyes glued to you both, she ignores the fifth call from Miguel.

"You can kiss me" his affection doesn't fly over your head this time, understanding his actions completely.

He leans down, feeling your lips against his. You can feel him smile through the kiss, you both taste like chocolate. You loop your arms over the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Hobie chuckles. Melting in his touch, you take it that he likes you back.

He reluctantly pulls away for air, you look at him your pupils blown out, your lips shining. Tilting your head you ask meekly "do that again?" Hobie chuckles deeply, pecking your nose before he kisses your lips again.

Pavitr shakes Gwen's shoulders excitedly, "I did that" he puffs his chest out in pride. While Gwen's already thinking of ways he can tease Hobie.

Miguel's hologram suddenly appears next to Lyla. He takes one look of you both tangled together, yelling out "That's it! We're having a meeting about workplace relationships!--" Lyla cuts him off, sighing, her hologram glows a bright pink. Good thing the anomaly didn't show up.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed it ❤️

[andy-clutterbuck]

5x01 | No Sanctuary

[feyhunter78]

Hiiii. I just read the new chapter of lab partners and it was 10/10 as always 🥰 Also I got another idea! What a about a pool party?👀 Now that Miggy is more popular he is invited to a pool party and he sees Y/N on a cute swimsuit and he goes crazy, but tries to keep it together to not look like a creep in front of her 😂 Especially when things are more tense after they almost kissed 👀👀👀👀

Thank you love!!!! I definitely wanted to lean into the tension left over from their almost kiss👀 I'm also using this one to set up the post I'll put out on V-Day!!!!

Pool Party

Artist cred: Supayell on Instagram!

He hates his brother, not really, but he does want to kill him. It was Gabriel’s idea to invite everyone over, to rent one of their apartment’s pools and throw a party. So now here Miguel is, forced to watch as you gallivant around in a dark blue bikini, with adorable little white hearts all over it, while he’s trying to keep himself from revealing his difficult situation.

Gabriel pushes the cabana’s curtains back even further than they were before and flops into the pool chair next to him, handing him some mixed drink in a red solo cup. “Enjoying the view?” Gabriel asks, lowering his sunglasses and letting out a wolf whistle in you and Mina’s direction. “Lookin’ good baby.”

Mina rolls her eyes but smiles and blows him a kiss, before linking arms with you and dragging you off towards a few of your other friends.

You’re so happy, smiling and giggling, drink in hand, swaying your head slightly in time with the music. He knows you, knows you love to dance, but there’s too many people here that you don’t know, so you stick with Mina, and stay away from the cleared out space in front of the speakers.

“It’s a nice party.” Miguel says, sipping on his drink. The taste of coconut rum coats his tongue, the pineapple juice mixed in, dulling the sting of the alcohol. He can barely feel it, a sense of dread making his mouth go numb when he sees you making your way over, a bottle of sunscreen in your hand and a drink in the other.

You smile at him, then give him a confused look when Gabriel squeezes his shoulder and bounds off towards a now unoccupied Mina.

“He’s probably going to try to convince her to go back to the apartment with him.” Miguel jokes, swallowing hard as he realizes just how pretty you look.

Your hair shines in the sun, your skin practically glowing, and your breasts—fuck he’s got to keep it together, he needs to look literally anywhere else—his eyes land on your lips, curled up in a smile, your lips glossy with chapstick, soft and supple looking. Not better, not better at all, because now he’s thinking about kissing you.

He shifts in his seat, praying no one notices the awkward way he’s sitting. Thankfully, the side curtains of the cabana are still down, so he just has to worry about anyone walking in…and you.

“He can try, but I know Mina’s been waiting all week for this party, there’s no way she’ll leave.” You laugh, shaking the sunscreen that’s in your hand, before downing your drink and setting it on the ground next to you.

“Yeah…are you enjoying the party?” Miguel asks, taking a big swig of his drink. Liquid courage, right?

“I mean, the drinks are good, music’s good, snacks are great, and I got to wear my new swimsuit, so yeah, I’d say I’m enjoying myself.” You gesture to your bathing suit as if it isn’t the very thing Miguel is trying not to look at.

“I like the color.” He says, taking another swig of his drink.

You beam up at him and toy with the strings holding the bottoms together. “Thank you, I was a little worried it would be too dark, but I actually really like it.”

His inebriated mind plies him with an image of you undoing those strings and letting him feast, suffocating him with your soft thighs, biting down on your fist to keep the others from hearing your moans.

He nearly groans aloud at the thought, hiding his face in his drink.

“Can I try that?” You ask, shifting to tuck your legs under you, your full attention on him.

“W-What?” He stutters, trying to banish the lewd image from his mind and focus on your words.

“Your drink, you’ve basically been chugging it, it’s gotta be good.” You elaborate, giving him a playful smile.

“Oh, oh, yeah, yeah, of course.” He hands you the drink, and you bring it to your mouth then frown.

“It’s empty.” You pout at him, leaning forward to set it on the small wooden table beside him, the stretch of your body, your bare skin brushing against his, makes his head swim.

“Sorry?” He manages to get out, his hand shooting to grip the side of the pool chair for stability.

“No worries, I’m a big girl, I can take it.”

He bets you can. Bets he’d fit perfectly, lying below you as you ease yourself down onto his coc—

Suddenly, you turn your back to him and pull your hair up off your neck. “Do you mind putting sunscreen on my back? I want to get back in the sun, but I don’t want to burn.”

He’s going to die, right here, right now.

“Yeah, sure I—I can do that.” He takes the sunscreen from you, apologizing when you hiss from the change in temperature.

You both sit quietly as he rubs the sunscreen in, making sure there’s no white cast, his large hands smoothing over your back, and shoulders, taking care to get every inch while trying to remain as respectful as possible.

“I have to—do you mind—?” He lifts the thick strips of fabric that keep your bathing suit together ever so slightly, waiting for you to nod, or pull away.

“No, no, you’re good, I’ll just…” You hold your top to your body with one hand just in case as Miguel rubs the lotion in, much quicker than before.

“Okay, I think you’re all good.” He says, snapping the cap back on the bottle.

You don’t turn around, staring at the canvas of the cabana. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

He nods, before realizing you obviously can’t see him. “Yeah, of course, anything.”

You turn now, but you won’t meet his eyes, too focused on fidgeting with your nails. They’re different shades of pink, a pleasant gradient ending in white on your thumbs. “My sorority’s semiformal, Valentine’s Day dance thing is coming up, would you maybe want to go with me?”

He’s stunned, frozen, astounded, flabbergasted, astonished, a dozen other words to say he’s shocked. Shocked that you’re asking him. That you want him to come with you to this event, honestly, he’s still shocked you want to be seen in public with him.

Do you feel the same way he does? He’s been hoping, praying, your almost kiss lingering, haunting him, plaguing his dreams, his every waking moment.

He says yes at the same time you say, “as friends,” and his world shatters.

“I don’t want to make you feel weird or anything, no pressure, just two friends have a good time at a Valentine’s themed dance.” You give him a smile, but he knows you, knows it’s fake, and he feels a twinge of hope in his chest once more.

“It’s not weird.” He reassures you, wishing he had another drink to drown his maybe sorrows maybe half-baked hope in.

You wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. “Okay yay! I’ll figure out our outfits and all the details, and I’ll get them to you.”

You bound off in the direction of your friends, leaving Miguel’s skin tingling, his heart hurting, and his stomach twisted into knots.

TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps, @chrishy973, @farrowroyale, @palesatan, @scaryplanetdestroyer, @denzmallows

[svblimes]

'closer than you think' - colt seavers x reader

» summary: you help colt unwind after he refuses to properly take care of himself after a rough week of stunt work.

» cw: implied friends with benefits, mentions of bruises, only mention of sex

» word count: 1,588

- hope you enjoy! .   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * . .   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * . .   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * . .   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . .   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * . .   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ *

It was another quiet Thursday night. You were perched on your couch watching late-night television while munching on an unadorned snack of choice. With no interruptions since you arrived home from work, you were ready to settle the remainder of the night in pure solitude. Suddenly, your phone begins buzzing beside you. The name that appeared on the screen read "Colt S.", the vibrations continue as you glance at the phone. 

The man named Colt, Colt Seavers, was a longtime friend of yours. He was in the film industry with the position of being a stuntman on many action movie projects, constantly prone to injury and the sort. The two of you met on set a few years ago when he made small talk with you at the craft service table during a short break. At this time, you had been one of the sound assistants on set. You knew how Colt's job went. He got hurt, did outlandish stunts, and went unseen by the world for a living. Since then, you deemed a connection and close friendship with him, closer than others would have assumed.

You turn the volume down on your TV, answering the phone. "Hey, what's up? Aren't you supposed to be eating dinner by now?" You asked lightheartedly. A faint sigh followed by a chuckle could be heard on the other end. 

"Well, good evening to you, too," Colt answers. 

"Yeah... I actually just finished eating. I wanted to know if you wanted to come over to my place for a bit. I was just lookin' for some company tonight. It's been a long day." His voice sounds fatigued and husky in your ear, piquing your curiosity. 

"Uh, sure. That's no problem. See you in about fifteen?" You said, switching the TV off and rising from the couch to get your bag ready.

"See you then." He confirms and ends the call. It was common for Colt to sound tired after a long day of stunt work, but this time he sounded unlike himself. It took you approximately fifteen minutes, as you estimated, to arrive at his apartment complex. After making your way to his door, you gently knocked to let him know you had arrived.

  The door unlocked and opened, revealing Colt Seavers himself. He was wearing black sweatpants and a white tank top, purpling bruises visible along his arms. "Hey," He greets you with that signature crooked smile of his.

You step inside the apartment set your bag down on his table, and turn to face him again. "Hey," You reflected. "Is everything all right? You sounded more tired than usual. And what the hell happened to your arms?" 

Colt combed a hand through his muddled hair and exhaled through his nose, shrugging. "You know how I said it's been a long day? I should've said a long week. Tons of stunt double scenes for that new movie we're filming up north," He explained, taking a seat on his bed. "I'm fine though, just tired out, y'know." 

You nod, acknowledging the struggle of a long work week, especially considering his circumstances. The bruises and darkening circles under his eyes concerned you, however. You took a deep breath and glanced around his apartment at the chaos he lived in, then back to his face. "You look like you need a massage or something. When's the last time you got one?"

Colt sheepishly averted his gaze to the floor, rubbing the nape of his neck. "Um... I don't normally get massages. They kinda slow me down. I prefer to work with the tens on my back instead."

"Could I at least help you ease some pain? I bet you haven't given yourself a relaxing bath lately, either. You got to let those muscles unwind, Colt." You reply, your face written with concern. 

His eyes roll playfully and he chuckles, leaning back against the wall. "Jeez, if you wanted to pamper me so much why didn't you say so, Chief?" There's a hint of playfulness in his tone as you stood there crossing your arms with faux irritation. It's his boyish smirk that nearly made you want to jokingly slap it right off, but you relented. 

"Let me be concerned for a minute, please. Will you at least get in the bath? I don't have to bother you." You say, sitting beside him. Colt sighed and leaned against your shoulder. 

"Sure, whatever makes you stop worrying about me. Which, again, I'm fine." 

After a few more minutes of soft bickering, Colt heads into his bathroom and lets the bathtub faucet start to run warm water. As he tries to lift his tank top over his head, he groans and winces from a sharp pain emitting from both of his arms, causing your head to turn in his direction. 

"You okay?" You asked from the living area.

"Y-yeah. All good."

From the next quiet groan that followed, you assumed he was lying and you gently opened the bathroom door to see his tank top only halfway off his body, jaw clenched. You had said something along the lines of, "Doesn't sound like it," and you helped him lift the thin fabric from his arms. More bruises and burn marks were visible across his torso. 

"God damn it, Colt... What are they making you do in this movie?!" You subconsciously pulled his sweatpants down to the floor, leaving him standing in his boxers. The caring part of your brain was on autopilot as you gathered Epsom salts from the cabinet and began to sprinkle some into the warm bathwater. Colt observed you with an amused expression, eyebrows raised inquisitively. 

"You know I could have done all that myself, yeah? I don't need any help, Chief." He stifled a yawn mid-sentence. "I'm just a little sore, no big deal." 

An annoyed sigh escapes your nose as you turn the faucet off. "Please, just get in the bath and let me help. It's the least I could do for you right now." 

Colt shrugged and began to remove his boxers, letting them fall to the cold floor as he stepped out of them. You had seen each other nude before on multiple occasions, so this wasn't uncomfortable for either of you. 

As Colt lowered his tall frame into the water, his eyes closed blissfully. You smiled triumphantly and poured water over his head, dampening his dirty blonde hair. 

"We're doing that, are we?" He inquires with another hint of playfulness and leans back for your convenience. After lathering your hands with shampoo, you begin kneading Colt's scalp, sudsing his hair as you went. His shoulders noticeably lowered, his eyes closing again. A faint purring-like sound rumbled from his throat as you cleaned his hair, an amused grin appearing on your face. It had been a while since you heard his responses to head massages. 

You tested the waters and scratched behind his ears, thumbs briefly caressing his jawline, emitting a hushed groan from him. Heat rises to your cheeks as you continue washing his hair, preparing to rinse it. Being intimate with Colt for the fun of it wasn't unknown to you, but this felt... different. 

Out of all the kisses and casual sex you shared, taking care of him like this drove your heart to swell differently. You wondered if you could ever be something more to him, more than just a friend. 

Colt turns his head to look at you after you rinse the shampoo from his hair, his steely blue eyes staring into your own. Neither of you spoke a word for what seemed like minutes, and Colt gently pressed his lips to your cheek, leaving your face to burn.

After you exchanged smiles and quiet giggles, you continued to wash his hair, silence filling the room except for Colt's groans of approval as you moved to cleanse the rest of his body.

~~~

After you bathed him and helped him redress into his night clothes, Colt insisted you stay the night since it had gotten so late. Of course, you agreed. Before settling in, you had rubbed a soothing lotion over a few of his most painful wounds, pulling him into his bed with you after his skin dried. 

A realization must have occurred during the last hour between the both of you because here you are, snuggling against each other with a new sense of closeness you never felt before, with one of his defined arms wrapped around you and yours around him. He tiredly stares at you as you comb through his damp hair, groaning softly at your touch.

"You're like a dog. Likes to be petted," You muse softly, giggling as he gives you a half-baked scowl. It was cute. His eyes were fighting to stay open as he continued to stare at you, sleep desiring to take over his body.

Before Colt dozed off, you leaned forward to connect your lips, kissing him softly. You lay awake for only a few minutes, thinking about how the both of you had an unspoken understanding of your relationship. It seemed meant to be. You held each other close as you drifted off to sleep, embraced in his muscular warmth. You both knew this was the start of something special.

~~~

As you slowly awoke from your slumber, your vision adjusted to see Colt lovingly staring at you, now laying somewhat underneath you. He flashed a goofy little smirk, eyes still glossy from being asleep, placing a chaste kiss to your nose.

"So, you up for some pancakes?"

[moodymisty]

✦ 𝕿𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖐 𝖄𝖔𝖚 ✦

Author's Note: tehe :3 I'm normal :> I saw that the Merchant wasn't getting much love and I just finished the remake so....

Summary: The mysterious Merchant that's been traveling around has been mighty helpful, why not give him a bit more than just a thank you?

Relationships: The Merchant/Fem!Reader (no she/her pronouns are used, but there's one brief mention of 'cunt' and petnames like 'sweetheart' and 'love' are used)

Warnings: NSFW, Oral (Male receiving), little bit of deepthroating, Is sucking off a man who's name you don't even know deserving of a warning?, Porn without plot, Some praising dirty talk from the Merchant

Word Count: 2224

Ao3 Mirror

"Ahhh, well look who it is,"

You quickly turn your head, seeing a familiar shape bathed in the soft light of the setting sun outside. It's filtering through the cracks in the walls and the windows; Without it, the only light you'd have would be the glow of your torch with it's slowly draining battery. This whole place still unsettles you, but it's nice to finally see someone just a bit less hostile than the usual fare.

"Lookin' for something in particular?"

He tosses one hand outward, his fingers relaxed and curled slightly inward towards his palm. His pack is on the ground for once, surely resting his back. That weight has clearly done some damage to him however, as he still maintains his usual slouch. Though maybe he's just always had that posture. It's not like you've known him long enough to be able to tell.

But all and all, he's the friendliest face you've met by far. So you have not too much worry coming in closer. Part of you wonders if his niceties are only so he can reap a future reward, but for now he hasn't. That part still has you hesitating, even if just a bit.

"I need some ammo. Fresh out." The last villager you had the displeasure of 'meeting' you'd had to fill with almost a whole magazine of bullets, before they finally went down.

That's the thing; You can kill them, but it's more so the matter of if they stay dead.

The Merchant makes an odd little noise sounding somewhat like an affirmative hum, before nodding to you. Slipping a hand inside the main section of his jacket it's moments later that he pulls out a duo of familiar red boxes, and you can hear the bullets clicking against each other inside when he lightly jostles them.

"Here you go; Just for you." You move to give him what little money you've scrambled together as of late, but he waves a hand, your eyes glancing towards the odd, splotchy complexion of his skin exposed by his fingerless gloves.

"Consider it on the house, Love."

He always calls you 'Love'. Or Sweetheart; Lovey. You've told him your name, so it's not as if he has nothing else to call you.

It's not to say you mind, however. It doesn't sound incredibly skeezy like you'd expect, and if anything, it sometimes makes your neck just a bit hot for no good reason.

He's just a bit of a flirt; You'd be a liar if you said you hadn't volleyed something back a few times.

"O-oh, I," You stutter for a moment, before taking the ammo from him and putting it in the pocket of your jacket. "Thanks." When you give him a small smile, he nods back. You can see by the way his eyes squint upwards that he's also grinning quite widely, or at least something similar.

"You've been more of a help than you needed to be." He brushes you off with one motion of his hand. It's nonchalant, before his eyes train right back on you. He rounds his little table to the side, leaning on it just a bit at the hip. It puts him even closer to you, and now you're almost in his personal space.

"Got to keep my regulars happy, right?"

Has he always been this, tall? And wide; He seems to almost shadow you, his shoulders far wider than your own. Maybe it's the thick, bulky material of his coat, though even then that doesn't remove the fact that even slightly slouched, he seems to have a height advantage on you.

Maybe it's because he's even closer now, having taken another step closer. Or maybe you moved closer and just don't remember doing so, hands hanging in the air close to your own chest.

"And I, uh, wanted to thank you."

Your finger hooks the edge of his coat as an absentminded fidgeting motion and the fabric waves, hearing the chimes and rattling of his 'merchandise'. He allows you for a moment, but when it actually moves, he catches your wrist with a gentle grip. His hands are large, and it swallows your wrist easily. He doesn't move your hand away, just simply stops it from moving any further as his eyes stare right into you, even so slightly hooded.

"I hope you aren't thinking of stealin' with those little hands of yours?" He trails off with a chuckle, watching your face morph into surprise at the misreading of your intentions.

"No! No Not at all; I..." He's still chuckling, it fading quieter and deeper, the uncovered tips of his fingers warm on your skin.

"What else would you want in my coat for then, lovey?"

His question seems genuine, but maybe it's his tone of voice, that makes it sound almost perverted.

Or maybe it's just you; Because the first image that comes to your mind is you on your knees. And no matter how hard you try and shake it from your head now, the thought stays. The idea of doing something that completely debauch on a man you literally don't know makes your neck hot, but not as hot as he himself makes you.

He's been quite the flirt, so maybe he wouldn't mind the treat?

You can't help thinking it; That he's, in an odd, partly frightening way, attractive. Maybe it's the lack of appearance; Or the way his voice seems to hit you in your gut with it's deep, gravely tone. When each time he calls you sweetheart or love, looking at you with those eyes.

He's still waiting for your answer; His eyes on your face as you look away.

"Like I said; I just, wanted to thank you." You hope he can't hear the nervousness in your voice, as you hide behind the 'thanking him' excuse. If pressured you'd deny it, but you know deep down you were already looking at him this way before the thought of thanking him ever came into your head.

The edge of his coat you have pinched between the knuckles of your pointer and middle finger, sliding down the thick seam as you slowly but surely fall to your knees. All the while the Merchant watches, silent. He allows his coat to be parted more fully, enough so that you can see inside. He quickly gets the hint, holding his coat back with one hand.

"Ohhh; Well, who am I to stop you if that's what you're lookin' for, sweetheart."

For a moment his sentence boils you enough to consider backing out and re-considering this, but in the end you don't, as your head leans ever so slightly forward. Your lips brush against the seam of his trousers, fabric course and dirty against your skin. Suddenly his hand is a soft weight against the back of your head, looking down at you. You can see the way his eyes flicker over different parts of your face, intently watching.

Any hesitations you had earlier are absolutely out the window now, feeling how fast your heart is racing.

The chuckle he lets out is what someone might call creepy, one that trails off as he watches you fumble with the buttons of his trousers. You might not disagree with calling it that, but there's no denying the deep grumble it trails off into puts a weight in your gut.

It's the way that your fingers stumble and paw at his clothing that makes him chuckle again, though just as he goes to reach a hand down and assist you, you finally manage to get a handle on the confusing clothing.

Slipping a hand inside his trousers you gently wrap a hand around his cock, feeling his heavy heat against your hand as you reveal it. That feeling in and of itself makes him groan, as your hand experimentally drifts up and down his cock for a few motions. That feeling of your lips brushing against his trousers had already started to rile him up, and soon enough, he's almost completely hard in your hand.

Once you're done experimenting, or maybe preparing yourself, you move your head closer, until your mouth his hovering just millimeters away from him. You can feel the stuffy heat against your skin, and the weight of his eyes watching down on you. They're hooded, lazily looking down at you like he's already having a grand time, even if you've barely started.

His cock is hot against your lips when they finally meet, even twitching as you move to wrap your mouth over the tip. Slowly you take him into your mouth, more and more as you attempt to fit as much as you can.

He's big, the tip of his cock bulges your cheek as you groan, mouth almost completely full. And you're not even to the base, your nose just barely brushes against the unbuttoned fabric of his trousers. He lets out a loud moan, echoing against the halls of the dreary, broken down building you're in. You pull your head back before trying again, attempting to familiarize yourself with the feeling while taking as much of him as you can. A tiny bead of spit forms in the corner of your mouth, as you hear him speak through his muffled groans.

"Fuck sweetheart, you got'a tight little mouth..."

More like he's too big for it, you think.

Your head bobs on his length quickly coating him in your own spit, taking deep breaths through your nose. The last thing you want to do is gag on him, but you're playing with fire; If he decides to get a little rough it wouldn't take much to send him right down your throat.

"Shit, shit, that's perfect," One of his hands presses against the back of your head, but not enough to stop you from moving. Tongue pressed against the bottom of his cock you have the odd, salty taste of precum in your mouth, hands gripping the fabric of his trousers. He can feel your soft moans just as much as he can hear them, not noticing when you glance up for just a moment.

"Ohhhh, fuck lovey," His voice almost shakes; That rough, gravely, nearly tipsy sounding tone grinding against his words. His gloved hand slides against your hair, fingers firm but gentle against the back of your head.

"You're real good at this, ain't ya?"

You're not the best judge of your own skill, but at least he seems to be enjoying it, bad posture exasperated even more so as he leans over you. His other hand presses against the top of the table he has laid out- the one he can fold away when he decides to move on to the next location he chooses- It creaking under the sudden increase in weight. It's meant to hold ammo, handguns and the occasional rifle, not support his bodyweight like this. Not that he cares, letting out a soft sigh and mumbling to himself:

"What'a treat..."

His hips thrust forward, meeting your mouth in the middle as he can no longer stay idle. His boot grinds against crumbled stone and dirt as he takes one tiny step closer, groaning through his gritted teeth behind the mask.

"Ohh, I'm real close lovey, you better..." He trails off, but you get the jist of it more than enough. Hand wrapped around the base of his cock that your mouth just can't get to without tickling the back of your throat, your lips wrap tight around the head of his cock as he twitches in your mouth. When his hand tightens on the back of your head not moments later is he finishing in your mouth, him letting out a muffled, deep groan. It's gravely and hits you right in your cunt, but you can deal with that later.

You swallow, the odd taste in your mouth lingering as he groans. You can feel the way that he's slowly softening in your mouth, and when you pull away, his cock falls from your mouth with a wet pop. Your hands fix his trousers; As if none of this had even happened. When you look up at him, he's watching every little move you make.

"Ain't you just a lovely thing,"

His hand drifts from your hair around to your face, thumb brushing against the corner of your mouth and wicking up a droplet of spit mixed with his own cum. His finger slides over your lips and presses, and your mouth opens under his soft pressure. It just barely brushes against your teeth, only for a moment. When he removes his thumb from the wetline of your bottom lip your mouth closes again. His touch is surprisingly gentle, you notice. His hand rests cupping the side of your jaw, head tilting into it.

Your knees hurt; They've been grinding against the hard floor, tiny pieces of rubble and dirt poking upward through your clothes. When you stand back upright, they yell in pain from being in such an uncomfortable pose for so long.

"Not used to gettin' thank yous, let alone ones like that." His thumb brushes over your lips again, his chest almost brushing against your own.

"Now, are you going on your way, or are you gonna stick around for a while longer?"

[vintageshanny]

Taste of the Ocean

Content: A somewhat dejected Elvis invites his girlfriend on a vacation to cheer him up after filming Blue Hawaii. Smut ensues. (Please suspend disbelief that some of these actions might not be practical in the ocean, and you will enjoy this a lot more 😉). Written in response to the request below. 18+

Hi. May I request an early 60s Elvis in which he is with female reader at Hawaii for vacation and he is like very horny for her, even though she doesn't provoke him. Very detailed and passionate smut please and thank you.

April 1961

“This was a nice idea, honey,” Elvis said as he stared up at the crescent moon casting a glow over the water. “I’m glad ya talked me into a midnight swim.”

“Me too,” you smiled. “It’s nice that you decided to stay a few days after filming for a vacation. Thanks for inviting me.”

Elvis turned his gaze from the moon back to your face, looking slightly surprised. “Of course, baby. Y-y-y’know how much I missed ya.”

You actually were never really sure how much he missed you, if at all. He always seemed to enjoy your time together in Memphis, and he said all the right things, things that you were fairly certain he believed in the moment when he said them. The first time you’d heard rumors of him and a co-star, he’d insisted that the studio put these stories out to get people talking about the movie. You wanted to believe that was true, but you weren’t so naive as to think he would never be tempted to seek the comfort of another woman when he was gone on these movie shoots. Especially after everything he’d been through these last few years. You’d made a conscious decision to trust his words to you over any rumors and give him all the comfort and support you could in the moments when you were together. He always gave so much of himself, it only seemed right that he deserved this in return.

In his uncanny way of reading your thoughts, Elvis smiled sheepishly as he brushed a wet lock of hair off your shoulder. “Thanks for always bein’ here when I need ya, baby. It’s been a really stressful shoot,” he added with a sigh. “Each movie I make seems ta get worse.”

“You know what helps with stress? Floating on your back,” you said with a smile.

“Is that right?” Elvis smirked. “This isn’t jus’ you tryin’ ta get a better view of me in these tiny swim shorts I swiped from the set?” he teased.

“What? I would never!” you giggled, feigning innocence, glad that your blushing face was at least partially obscured by the cover of night. “I’ll even demonstrate for you.” You leaned back, letting your body float on the water, rocked by its gentle movements. “See? All the stress is just melting away,” you announced with a grin.

Elvis looked down at the peaceful expression on your face, your beauty seeming to glow in the moonlight. His eyes moved down to where your breasts swayed up and down in time with the water, barely covered by your white bikini top, then continued over the curve of your hips to that spot he knew was just for him. He could feel his swim shorts growing even tighter as he took note of the curly little hairs escaping from your swimsuit bottom.

“This is a nice bathing suit, honey,” he murmured as he fiddled with the strings that tied at your hips, a warmth continuing to consume him.

“Thanks,” you whispered, smiling a little bit. You didn’t normally wear such a risque suit, but you’d wanted to make sure you’d get his attention back from…wherever it might have wandered in the last couple months. “Why don’t you try floating?”

“Baby, I’m floatin’ on cloud nine jus’ lookin’ at how beautiful you are.” Elvis slowly started to pull on the strings that he’d been playing with. “There’s really only one thing that could make me feel even better.”

Your eyes popped open as you realized that Elvis had deftly untied and removed your bikini bottom. “What are you doing? Elvis, someone might see!”

“Shh, honey, it’s dark and ain’t nobody out here but us.” He tucked your suit bottom into the front of his shorts, his hardened dick having created a convenient little tent for it. “Lemme show ya how much I’ve missed ya.” You shivered a little as Elvis’ fingertips ghosted over your fuzzy mound and pushed your legs open, letting the moonlight bathe your throbbing pussy. “Damn honey, look atcha all wet for me already,” he groaned, spreading your lips and running a finger through your soft folds.

“It’s, it’s cuz we’re in the ocean,” you sputtered out, trying your best to stay still and keep floating.

Elvis leaned down and licked right down your center with his thick tongue before pulling back with that big goofy grin. “Nah, baby, that ain’t the ocean, that’s the sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted. Ya been savin’ that sweet cream for me?”

You nodded, moaning with pleasure as Elvis dove back between your thighs. As you started writhing with pleasure, he used one strong hand to support your back so you wouldn’t sink under the water. The other one wrapped around one of your thighs and kept you firmly pressed against his face, his tongue dancing over your clit, alternately flicking and sucking it. Elvis continued lapping at you, the saltiness of the ocean mixing with the sweet and tangy flavor of your arousal. By the time his tongue pushed its way into your tight little opening, his nose rubbing against your sensitive clit, you were ready to explode with desire. All you could do was hope that your intense moans didn’t carry too far through the warm Hawaiian breeze.

After licking up every last drop of you, Elvis gently released his hold on you, your legs sinking down onto somewhat solid ground, your toes burrowing into the sandy ocean floor.

“Is that the kind of stress relief ya had in mind while floatin’ on your back?” Elvis’ breath tickled your ear as he pulled you close. You could feel under the water that he desperately needed some relief of his own.

“Better than anything I could imagine,” you whispered back. “Now it’s your turn.” You reached for his waistband, letting your fingers trail over his bulge, his body giving an involuntary little shudder.

“Oh, honey, ya ain’t gotta do that out here,” he protested weakly.

“I want to,” you insisted softly. “I missed you too, y’know.”

“Oh yeah?” he smiled. “What did ya miss the most about me?”

“Well, for one thing, I had no one to make me laugh like you do.” You tugged the tiny swim shorts down his legs and helped him step out of them, gripping them in your hand so they wouldn’t float away.

“And seeing me naked is gonna help with that?” Elvis’ mouth twitched as he tried not to laugh at his own joke. He leaned back and allowed his body to float to the surface, his pulsing dick on full display.

“No baby,” you teased back, wrapping your hand around him. Your insides tingled at the way the brown hairs at his base seemed to float around in the water. “This is no laughing matter. You could injure someone with this. It’s dangerous.” Elvis’ loud burst of laughter quickly turned to a moan as you took him in your mouth, your tongue caressing every inch of him. You could feel his sensitive tip graze the back of your throat as you took him in as deep as you could. As his body started thrashing about from the pleasure, you tried to support his back the way he had done with you, but before you could get a good grip on him, the force of his movements had pulled you both under the water.

“Wh-wh-what are ya tryin’ ta do, mama? Drown me?” He came up spitting out water and laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

You giggled too and spit out the salty water that had filled your mouth. “I’m sorry, you were moving around too much!”

“Well what do ya expect honey? Ya takin’ me all the way to the base makes me feel some kinda way. I-I can’t control it.”

“Hmm, maybe we’ll have to find a different way to relieve your stress,” you purred in his ear, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“I think I know jus’ the thing, baby,” he growled softly, giving your ear a nibble as he reach down and lined himself up with you under the water.

“Oh, God,” you moaned out as he pushed inside of you, stretching your opening around his thickness.

“It’s jus me, baby, but ya ain’t been the first ta get us confused,” he teased as he held your body down on his cock.

“Ha,” you tried to laugh at his joke, but the feeling of him deep inside of you had you in some kind of alternate reality where all you could experience was pleasure.

“Ohh, baby,” Elvis groaned as he gently lifted you and brought you back down on him. He could feel his dick twitching inside of you, releasing all the tension and stress that had built up inside of him. “Oh, shit, uhh, that feels so good honey.” With one last thrust upward, he stilled his movements and just hugged you tightly to him, burying his face in your neck, his soft lips pressed against your skin.

“How do you feel now?” you whispered, stroking his wet hair, feeling his chest heave up and down with the release of emotion.

“The best back float I’ve ever done,” he said, looking up at you with a smile. He tried to ignore the thought that popped into his brain next. You’ve had your moment of freedom in the ocean. Now on to the next crappy movie. Instead he squeezed your hand and asked, “Ya ready ta go inside?” You nodded and held his swimsuit out to him. “Gonna be fun tryin’ ta put these wet shorts back on in the water,” he chuckled.

“Wait, where’s the bottom to my suit?” you asked in a panic.

“Uh oh, it was wrapped up in my shorts, honey, and it ain’t there no more.” You could see Elvis trying to stifle a laugh.

“It’s not funny! How am I supposed to get out now?” you yelped.

“Hmm, I guess we’re jus’ stuck out here forever,” he smiled, pulling you in for a hug. “But at least we have these flotation devices.” He sneakily started to untie your top as well. “Might as well take this off too,” he murmured as he flung it to the side and wrapped his lips around one of your bare nipples, grazing it gently with his teeth.

“Mmm,” you moaned, holding tightly to him. “I think I’d love being stuck here with you.” You could feel his arousal growing again.

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @whositmcwhatsit @missmaywemeetagain @lookingforrainbows @thatbanditqueen @be-my-ally @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love @arrolyn1114

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Please may I request reader needing a live model for her art class, so obviously she chooses camp!Eddie

Honestly, you weren’t really sure why you took the class. You needed an elective, something that aided your creativity rather than hindered it. But the classrooms were busy, filled with students and you could always hear a pin drop in the nervous silence.

So when your professor offhandedly told everyone they could turn in a subject that was drawn outside of the studio, well, you jumped at.

And that’s why you were handing Eddie a beer, smiling at him, the picture of innocence. The boy was begrudging to say the least, pink cheeked and wide eyed when you’d asked. In fact, he’d almost said no, before the realisation hit him that you’d need another naked body, if he didn’t grant you his.

And maybe Eddie Munson was a little possessive, protective, when it came to you.

“You don’t gotta go look for somebody to strip when you’ve got me, sweetheart.”

You let him drink his beer as you set up, your small apartment bathed in the setting sun. Everywhere was shades of rose, cotton candy pink, peach and sherbet orange. It turned the boy golden as he sat on your sofa for you, silver rings catching fire in the rays. And when he drained the last of his drink, he sat the bottle on the floor and looked at you, a twitch of a smile on his lips.

“Ready?” You asked.

“How’d you want me?” He replied, and well, it was a question that made you burn.

You were acquainted with Eddie’s naked body by now, but the sex was still new and he was usually stripped by your greedy hands in the dark, shades of silver and blue in the moonlight. This, this was different. The sun, although lower in the sky than before, was still pouring in from your large windows and when you told Eddie how you wanted him, he shed his clothes and turned bronze.

Pale skin now sunkissed, tattoos softer looking in the warm glow. His eyes turned honey, lips pink and hair catching the light, twists of lighter brown and an almost auburn sheen to it.

“Keep your rings on,” you managed to whisper when he went to remove them, his shirt on the floor, jeans unbuttoned, feet bare on your floorboards.

“But everything else comes off?” Eddie chuckled, enjoying the way you squirmed more than he should’ve. “Could do with evening the playing field here, sweetheart, you got a man feeling a little vulnerable.”

“S’just me, babe, s’okay.”

You smiled, soft, watching the way he pulled off his jeans anyway, boxers following. He sat the way you asked him too, back against the arm of the couch, the leg closest to you bent at the knee to cover his crotch.

“Turn a little to me,” you directed, your pencil already in hand. “Tilt your chin down and just— just part your lips a little. Like you wanna—”

“Kiss you?” Eddie surmised, grinning.

You squirmed again.

You knew then and there, this project wasn’t going to be finished that night. But you tried regardless, humming along to one of the records Eddie had put on, something that was yours and definitely not his, ‘cause it was softer, sweeter than his usual taste.

Every now and then, as your gaze flicked over Eddie’s body, all lean muscle and long limbs, your eyes caught his and he smirked, shyness gone as your eyes became more glazed, your appearance clearly flustered.

He looked smug. Cheeky with it, a large, wide hand wrapped around his shin as he posed, his fingers flexing against his skin every time he heard your breath hitch a little louder than before.

After twenty minutes of silence, Eddie spoke, his voice a smoky rumble over the soft guitar from your record player. “S’it lookin’ good?”

You hummed, not nearly done but you’d mapped out a rough outline of his tall frame, the bend of one leg, the stretch of the other. Muscles wrapped around each limb, the soft curve of his stomach smattered in a rough shading of hair.

“You always look good, Teddy.”

The boy preened, flushed cheeks rosier than ever in the sunlight. He was all gold, a marble statue at dusk. “Yeah?” His voice sounded breathier. “Come show me?”

How could you say no?