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luveline · 20 days

Note

Maybe colt comforting reader when things for her film aren’t going right 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Colt comes to your rescue (clumsily) when you have a hard day. fem!reader, 1k words

Very minor plot spoilers for The Fall Guy (2024) if any

“I think he’s mad at you.”

You pause where you’d been scrubbing your eyes with your hands, though you don’t look at him. Colt Seavers seems to follow you everywhere you go, and consequently plays witness to your many breakdowns. “Thanks, Colt. That’s astute.”

“Are you mad at me? Why are you mad at me? It’s been ten seconds,” he complains. He has a unique talent for sounding flirty and needy at once.

“No, Colt. I’m tired, it’s been a long day.”

Colt is grinning when you meet his eyes. He has blood, fake or real undetermined, drying in the scruff of his facial hair. You gesture to yourself in a slow circle in the approximate area, to which Colt smiles again.

“You look perfect,” he says confidently.

“You have blood in your beard.”

“Oh, right.”

You sigh heavily, taking the few paces back to a stack of safety mattresses for a quick break. You’ll get up and help whoever needs helping as soon as you can feel your toes. Colt stays where he is, squinting against the sun, strands of blonde ends kissing his tan forehead. The summer shoots are good for him, he always looks so beachy. You’re exhausted all the time.

As he notices. “Are you getting enough sleep?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“‘Cos I was sleeping badly and then I got this new mattress that has four hybrid layers, there’s a foam layer, and then there’s titanium springs,” —he sees your distant expression and his own flickers— “anyways, you could try it if you want. Test it out with me. Or– Not with me. With me if you want. We’d have fun. But not with me if you don’t want to.”

You’d laugh if you had the energy. “Do you wanna sit down?” you ask.

“God, yes, please.”

He has another talent for being insanely handsome no matter the day. You look like you’ve been badly rewarmed before serving, where he looks like he rolled out of bed with a smile. He’s smiling at you now, the foolish kind that’ll fluster you if you let him do it for too long. “Stop,” you say quietly.

“You’re doing amazing.”

“Thank you. You’re the only person who thinks so, unfortunately.”

You smile at him weakly. Worried you look pathetic, you turn your face to your lap and clasp your fingers together.

“That’s not true. Mayview is old-fashioned, that’s all, he was around when they were still killing horses on TV.”

You grimace. “Yikes.”

“But it’s the modern era. He doesn’t get to make you feel like shit, or I’ll make him feel like shit.” He pretends to charge a sucker punch.

You lean forward a touch, not quite hugging your knees but tempted to fold in on yourself nonetheless, the heat of the sun a memory on your neck as the evening begins and cloud cover floods in.

The safety mattresses beneath you squeak and shush against each other. Your weight and Colt’s slides together slowly. He might be pushing himself a little with his boot, but you pretend not to notice as his hand comes to rest between your shoulders.

“I just can’t do anything right,” you mumble.

As soon as you’ve said it you’re hoping he can’t hear you, but he does. He might have injured pretty much anything that can be fractured, sprained, or just plain broken, but he has stellar hearing. “You do everything right. You do!” he says, quietly and passionately at once, “They don’t realise it, but you’re the glue keeping this whole thing together.”

“What are you?” you ask, bemused.

His hand is warm on your shoulder, unafraid where he hesitates to answer, “I don’t know. The test dummy? The guy who gets set on fire a lot?”

“How is that?”

“Warm,” he says, beaming, his face so unexpectedly close that you can see the glucose shining in the blood on his cheek. Fake blood. “You wanna try it? I’m sure I could convince the guys.”

“No, I’m okay.”

His voice turns silky. “Good, I wasn’t gonna let you anyway.”

“Let me?”

“You could get hurt.”

You give in, melted maybe by his warm tones, or exhausted by a day of playing mom for a director who can barely tell his left from his right. Your face presses to his shoulder and your spine sags under his hand, prompting Colt to pull you flush against his side. He always waits for your signals for stuff like this, no matter how desperate he might confess to being. “Can you make them all leave me alone?” you mumble into his jacket, the fabric rough against your nose.

“Obviously I can, but… We could run away.”

“Where would we go?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere sunny. You can rub sunblock on my back, I can hold the umbrella over your head while you read.”

“They have stands for that sort of stuff. Or you can shove it in the sand, you know.”

“I wanna do something nice for you,” he interrupts, the sound of a smile in his voice as he gives you a friendly jostle. “That’s the point.”

“You’re plenty nice, Colt.”

And he is. He saw you were upset and he came jogging upto you valiantly, and your side-armed cuddle is really pushing the pep back into your life. You take a few deep breaths under the weight of his arm before turning to him, brave, ready to go back to work if it means he’s gonna drive you home tonight. “Thank you for caring.” You kiss his cheek, careful of the fake blood. “You’re super nice.”

You miss the heat of him the second you stand, but there really is work to do.

“I’m super nice?” he calls. “How nice is super? Nice enough to get another one of those, or what? Are they by the metre?”

You bite back a smile.

“Hello? Can you hear me?” He must catch someone’s eye. “She can’t hear me. It’s cool. We like each other.”

Nobody saves face quite like Colt.

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ken-dom · 3 months

Text

I’ll Do Anything You Say If You Say It With Your Hands

Colt Seavers x gn!reader

2k words

∘₊✧ Summary: You comb your fingertips through the wavy lengths of his soft hair, pausing when you find the perfect spot to wind a handful of strands tight around your fingers...

∘₊✧ Author’s notes: Thank you my wonderful K (@heresthestorymorningglory) for beta reading, finding me a Swift song for Colt, and allowing long hair Colt into the Geese Who Consume Us Club. This is my first time writing him and I know it won’t be my last! Title from Trecherous by Taylor Swift

∘₊✧ Warnings/content: NSFW, long hair Colt, crying (both to Taylor Swift and from overstimulation), praise, hair pulling kink, a lot of cum, hand job, overstimulation, orgasm as pain relief, aftercare

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

With lips hot and wet at his neck, your nails scrape over Colt’s scalp, threading through his thick locks.

His head drops back into the feeling; it’s sensual and soothing in equal measure, every nerve tingling like a spread of lightning through his body and heat pooling like lava at his aching core.

You've been touching him like this, tender but teasing, for what feels to him like hours since finding him curled into a ball on his sofa with Taylor Swift playing from the kitchen, eyes and cheeks wet, back aching and head pounding. You offered to help him relax, slowly opening him up to you, and, although you didn’t tell him this, your plan was also designed to make him feel good about himself. He fell apart in your hands the moment you began to touch him and as ever, he’s content to let you put him back together however you see fit.

You comb your fingertips through the wavy lengths of his soft hair, pausing when you find the perfect spot to wind a handful of strands tight around your fingers until you’re holding his head still with a firm fistful of thick, luscious blonde.

There’s still one loose strand framing his face, but he looks so gorgeous, you leave it there.

He whimpers as you tug your fist lightly, his wet eyes glimmering before they slip closed.

He feels your free hand glide down the smooth expanse of his chest. You’re raking your nails over his soft flesh too, feeling him shiver under the warmth of your palm until you graze a nail directly over a nipple and he jolts at the sudden spark of pleasure. You continue there, pinching and rolling the soft nub lightly between your fingers, watching his face contort in pleasure that isn’t quite enough but is almost too much to bear.

Watching him unravel.

He's been hard for too long and the front of his loose fitting sweatpants are soaked through. Colt is strong and he has stamina for days, but he really can’t keep this up for much longer, not with the way you’re teasing and coaxing, being so soft and caring with him.

Your hip presses briefly against his cock the hen you reach up to stroke that loose strand of hair, and Colt writhes, biting his bottom lip to keep from letting out the hungry groan that’s been nagging to tear from his chest.

You brush against him deliberately now and again, watching his chest muscles tense while his cock throbs at the hint of contact, and this time he does let out a groan. It’s guttural and almost relieved, and the wet patch grows a little darker.

He’s delicious like this, you think, simmering on the edge of bliss, needy but not daring to ask for anything more than you’re giving him. He completely relinquishes control to you, giving you both his body, and the power to oversee his pleasure however you see fit.

He trusts you, and you take good care of him. It works.

‘Colt?’ you whisper, still massaging that perky, sensitive nipple, and he whines in response. He can’t formulate so much as a thought of anything worth saying, let alone turn the sound into a word. So he gives up and simply nods instead, face scrunching up in pain when the roots of his hair snag against your tight grip.

It’s not just pain, though; it’s pleasure too, and he shudders at the sensation it sends running down his spine.

It’s almost too much. Every touch is bringing him dangerously close to the edge, and having his hair tugged was a factor he never expected would contribute.

Lips pulling into a smirk at his reaction, you whisper, ‘Do you need to cum?’

‘P-pl-’ he tries, resorting back to a nod, slower this time, gentle against your fist, trying not to let this new thrill he’s discovered overwhelm him too soon.

‘Then tell me you’re handsome.’

‘Wha-’

‘Tell me you’re handsome,’ you repeat, a clear and simple request, fingers finding the tip of his cock with your and tracing a featherlight touch over the pulsing bulge in his damp sweatpants.

Heat radiates through the fabric as you trace the outline of a vein running down the underside of his length, and he twitches against your finger, cock begging for more — or less, if you want this to continue for much longer.

‘I- I’m- handsome,’ he chokes out, hips stuttering as you circle his sensitive tip again.

‘Tell me you’re smart, too.’

He shakes his head. It’s too vigorous and it hurts, but a spark of bliss shoots down to his core and he grunts as he feels himself leak out another thick drop of precum. His head drops back against the wall, your fist there to cushion the blow.

‘Come on, Colt, you can do it. Tell me.’

Your finger slows to a stop and his breathing turns uneven and ragged.

‘No- no, please- I… I can’t- I’m not!’

‘Oh but you are, and I need you to believe it. I need to hear you say it.’

He dares to open his scrunched up eyes just enough to glance at you.

You mean it. He knows you mean it. And he will never not give you what you ask for, so he manages, somehow.

‘I’m… I’m smart,’ he mutters, embarrassment pricking at his cheeks.

‘Good boy,’ you coo, massaging his tip again, gentle and slow.

Oh, Colt thinks, lost in the sensation, absentmindedly rolling his hips in time with your fingers, worth it.

Because he likes praise. He likes doing right by you, even if he doesn’t always agree with what you want him to say about himself. If you believe it, that’s enough for him.

‘I think you really deserve to cum now.’

‘Oh- yeah, ok-’ he breathes, still trying to please you, to sound agreeable, but it comes out desperate and you smirk as you lean up to press your lips to his for a moment, his cock once again left to throb aimlessly inside his sweatpants in the empty space between you, untouched and leaking steadily.

He feels a sinking disappointment when you loosen your grip on his long hair, but then you dip your head and your lips wrap around the plump nipple you’d been teasing moments earlier, and he moans, loud and unrestrained, bucking his hips and grabbing your shoulders to seek something- anything you might be good enough to give him.

With one hand still loose in his hair, the other drags painfully slowly over his stomach, fingers grazing his happy trail, to hook under the waistband of his sweatpants, open a space big enough to slide your hand inside the fabric and press your palm flat against the underside of his cock.

It’s sticky with precum and he blushes again at how wet he feels.

His cock is thick and heavy, noticeable even just from resting against your palm, and you can feel every little throb of need it gives. Your eyes drag over his burly form, and absentmindedly, you lick your lips.

His jaw clenches at that. He’s trying so hard not to spill yet, forcing his hips still and concentrating on breathing. He needs you to tell him when, but it’s growing more difficult by the minute to wait for that command, even while there’s no friction, no movement.

‘Tell me one more thing?’

‘Anything!’ Colt cries out, voice weak, strangled and cracking, the vein in his cock throbbing against your palm.

‘Tell me what you need?’

‘I need- oh-’

You finally stroke his cock. A soft, gentle massage that, to him, feels like far too much at this point. He can’t hold off, his release is approaching rapidly and-

‘Oh, fuck- I can’t-’

‘That’s it baby, you can, I promise,’ you coo, and your fingers wrap around his length while your tongue resumes its work on his sensitive nipple.

‘I- I need to-’ he rasps, on the verge of more tears. But these are needy tears, not self pitying ones, and you both know that you’ll give him what he needs, eventually.

The tears pour, steaming down his cheeks, and as a reward for trying so hard, you begin to move your fist, pumping faster the more he attempts to spit the words out, and tightening the grip of your other hand to yank his hair, hard.

Colt growls at the combined sensations and your teeth catch on his nipple as he jerks forward. It’s so good, so overwhelming, he knows he’s done for, and every ounce of strength in him diminishes until there��s just your hand, your mouth, your warmth. He’s safe like this with you. Safe and handsome and smart. Fuck.

His vision blurs as the words continue to fall from his trembling lips; ‘I need to- cu-ohhh-oh!-ughhh-mmmnnn-gg-’ and he spills uncontrollably, hips snapping forward into your furiously pumping fist while his cock darkens the front of those sweatpants with a fresh layer of thick, hot seed, dripping down satisfyingly over your hand, too while his whole body turns limp.

You continue working his softening length with slower, softer strokes until he’s got nothing left to give and he’s softening inside your loose fist.

He’s a heap on the floor by now and you’re positioned over him, pushing your fingers through his hair and softly brushing it away from his face instead of pulling at it. The contrast soothes him and he whimpers, nuzzling his face into your shoulder as you settle beside him.

You wipe his release from your hand onto a dry patch of his pants — they’re going to need a thorough wash anyway, and Colt doesn’t even notice.

His chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, his over-sensitive cock relieved and soft and coated in his own cum, twitching with aftershocks.

Slowly, he begins to feel like he’s made of jelly, the feeling spreading from his core out to his limbs, and he can barely keep his eyes open.

He floats away on the haze of bliss while you play with his hair and press soft kisses to his cheek, whispering how good he was for you into his ear, the praise dripping like warm honey.

When he comes to, he first notices that your comforting weight is no longer pressed against his side, and then he recognises the calming trickle of the tap filling his bathtub and the scent of lavender floating through from the steamy room.

Whatever you did to him has relieved his back pain, however temporary, and he shifts on the floor, seeing how it feels to have more ease in his movements.

There’s a cushion under his head and you’ve stripped him of his cum stained sweatpants, replacing them with a blanket for now.

It feels like you’ve brushed his hair.

He smiles to himself. A big, dumb grin that would make you want to kiss him (and pounce on him) if you were still beside him.

He looks over to where you were laid before he drifted off and sees that you’ve left him a glass of water.

His heart skips.

He’s not sure he can drag himself to the bathtub right now, weak from too much pleasure and somewhat overwhelmed at it, but he knows you’ll help him. And that it’s what he needs.

He knows you’ll massage his shoulders, and that you’ll wash his hair with tender, loving fingers, and gush about how pretty it is all the while.

About how pretty he is.

You’ll do it until he sees his worth, and as difficult as it may be to learn and accept that he’s as desirable as you seem to think he is, he’s not exactly complaining about hearing it from you. Especially when you choose this method — the one where he gets to cum.

He knows he’ll be hard again by the time you’re done washing and massaging him, too, but you’ll take mercy on him since he’s so overstimulated. Won’t you?

#not s f w 💀#colt seavers x reader #colt seavers smut #colt seavers fic #colt seavers #the fall guy #the fall guy fic #ryan gosling #ryan gosling x reader #ryan gosling smut #ken-dom writes

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heresthestorymorningglory · 15 days

Text

Kiss

Summary: Colt has a bit of an oral fixation...

A/N: The Fall Guy is my new favourite thing and I personally would gnaw on Colt Seavers like a chew toy.

Colt x afab reader <3

As per usual, it's NSFW 18+ @ken-dom as always my darling, I thank you for your support and inspiration and late night chats.

There will certainly be more Seavers in the very near future ;) but for now, be gentle, I'm no stunt man

Enjoy my loves <3

There was a heavy knock on your trailer door before it clicked open and Colt ducked inside.

His shaggy blond hair falling in his face as he smiled that smile that made you weak in the knees.

He was covered from head to toe in dirt and dust in your favourite outfit; jeans with both knees ripped out and a dirty white t-shirt and work boots in his Miami Vice stunt team jacket.

“Hi” you smiled, as his large arms slipped around your waist, pulling you against him.

Your arms snaked around his neck, his skin warm and sun kissed against your forearms.

“Hi” he whispered before claiming your lips in a heated gentle kiss. He pushed you back gently against the small counter. You moaned softly against his mouth as he sucked on your bottom lip making your stomach flutter.

His teeth pulled gently on your lip before your tongue tangled with his, returning his kiss with just as much fervor.

He boosted you up on the small ledge, his fingers sliding under the hem of your shirt, squeezing gently, grazing over the smooth skin of the small of your back.

The walkie talkie at the end of the counter crackled with chatter, Dan was looking for you.

You pushed Colt back gently, prying your lips from his, albeit reluctantly, leaning to reach the small radio. Colt paid it no mind whatsoever, opting to continue his assault. His beard scratched over your skin as his teeth nipped along the length of your neck as he mumbled protests.

Holding his shoulder for support, you leaned further, fingers just brushing against the walkie talkie as he sucked harshly at the hollow of your collarbone.

You gasped, squeezing his shoulder “Colt, please-” you strained to reach the radio as Dan called again, knocking it over.

You giggled as his bangs tickled against your cheek, his hand closing around your wrist pulling you back to him.

“Nn-no” you protested as his frame enveloped yours as he turned you to face him, still stretched over the length of the counter, his weight heavy on top of you as he cupped your cheek, his lips finding yours as you protested half heartedly.

Your breath caught in your throat against his mouth as you felt yourself slip from the countertop; his strong arm locking around your back kept you from falling to the floor as your arms instinctively wrapped around his broad shoulders.

You break your kiss a second time, panting heavily against his neck as you try again to protest.

“Colt” you breathed hard as he moaned against your neck, but made no effort to lift his head; instead his perfect teeth leaving love bites down your throat, leading down toward your cleavage.

You whined pathetically as his warm tongue licked over your skin. Your entire body going limp in his arms, fingernails scratching against the nape of his neck. He knew just how to push your buttons.

His free hand pulling the deep v neck of your t-shirt down even further as he dragged his nose between your cleavage.

“Oh my-” you gasped, licking your lips as he hummed with approval; the support of the counter under you was gone, his arm across your back and one unsteady foot barely touching the floor between his boots, keeping you suspended where he wanted.

There was a loud knock on the door of the trailer, Dan's booming voice coming from the other side.

“Colt you better not be in there!”

That stopped him in his tracks, but he only looked up at you from his place between your breasts, his blue eyes meeting yours with a mischievous glint as he stood rooted to the spot.

You bit your lips together, fighting back a laugh as Colt winked at you but didn't move.

You squeezed your eyes shut laughing quietly as Colt moved to start sucking on your overheated skin.

You grit your teeth pushing him gently by the shoulder but you knew it was in vain. “Stop it” you whispered harshly.

“He's not here Dan!” You yelled and Colt's head shot up

“Shhhh” Colt frowned up at you

“He knows I'm in here” you whispered harshly

Colt just rolled his eyes

“Check the coffee cart!’ you yelled, your fingers twisting in his mop of tangled hair.

“Mhm” was Dan's unbelieving, muffled reply.

Colt only snorted into your cleavage and you pulled on the thick strands of his hair hard, making him growl low in the back of his throat.

He stood up straight, pulling you with him before he sank to his knees in front of you, his hands pushing up the thin fabric of your shirt, he kissed a trail over your bare stomach; both your hands on either side of his head, threading through his hair.

His nimble fingers working open the button of your jeans before he slid them down your legs along with your panties.

You rested against the counter, your eyes fluttering closed as you felt him lean in closer to your core.

Your heart thudded loudly in your ears as his calloused hands slid back up the length of your now bare thighs.

He let out a soft moan as you scratched against his scalp a second time, his head dipping to lick a hot stripe between your thighs.

You cried out, your knees instantly buckled as you threw your head back.

Colt slid a hand under the back of your thigh, hooking your knee over his left shoulder to move himself closer.

You balanced against the counter on one foot as he slid underneath you, his hands firmly on your hips.

He moaned against your slick folds making you whine with need over his head; both your hands holding his head still as he fucked you with his tongue.

Your weight rested heavily against his shoulder as you bucked your hips, grinding against him as his beard scratched the inside of your thigh, only adding to your bliss.

“Holy fuck” you swallowed hard, eliciting another moan between your thighs.

You dropped your chin against your neck as his tongue flicked over that oversensitive bundle of nerves.

“Colt g-god” you whimpered unashamedly as he lapped at your leaking core, desperate to push you over the edge.

His fingers gripped your hips with a painful need, his short fingernails biting into your flesh.

His tongue skilfully working between your folds. The entirety of your weight threatening to collapse on him knelt in front of you.

You shuddered over him and he moaned under you, knowing you were close.

“Colt I-” you squeezed your eyes shut, struggling to find the words. You hummed, biting down hard on your bottom lip.

You gasped, trying again failing miserably stumbling over his name a second time “C-Colt”

He simply moaned with agreement devouring you like you were his last meal….and if Dan got ahold of him you probably would be.

You moaned, desperate and needy over his head, fisting chunks of his thick hair. “Colt” you breathed.

Again, he moaned against your core with agreement, not even bothering to come up for air.

“Mhm, mhm, mhm” he attempted a nod, but your grip in his hair made it difficult.

All at once the one knee holding you steady, buckled, Colt's grip on your hips tightening instantly to keep you stationary as you yanked hard on the hair between your fingers, thrusting your hips shamelessly, grinding against him, fucking his face, quite literally riding out your orgasm as he lapped up and sucked every last drop.

You nearly collapsed against the counter as he eased your leg from off his shoulder and got to his feet, an impressive hard on, pressing wet against his jeans.

Barely giving you a chance catch your breath and come down from your high he claimed your mouth in a desperate kiss; his entire face wet with your slick.

You reached between you, ripping his jeans open and shoving your hand inside, fingers wrapping around his throbbing, leaking shaft.

He pulled his mouth from yours, his breath hot and heavy against your neck as he growled through grit teeth, his cock twitching hard in your fingers. Precum spilling from the tip, dripping over your hand.

His teeth sank into your neck, making you whimper and squeeze him harder. He bit so hard on the little hollow under your ear you thought for sure he would pierce skin before he sucked hard, you had no doubt, forming a dark purple bruise in his wake.

His entire body was coated in a thin sheen of sweat.

You pulled his cock free, stroking him gently.

Leaning next to his ear you breathed hard after running your tongue along his jaw.

“Mark me” you whispered, his cock twitched again and he bucked his hips with a groan. “Then fuck my mouth”

Again, his teeth sank into your neck, this time he did pierce your skin making you cry out with a moan against his shoulder.

You sank to your knees in the small space, immediately hollowing your cheeks and taking his entire throbbing length into your mouth.

The deep groan over your head making your core throb as his massive hands gathered your hair into a snarled ponytail, the head of his cock bumping the back of your throat as he fought to keep himself in check.

Your hands dropped in your lap as you let him take complete control, his hips moving slowly at first as you moaned around his length. Until you looked up at him from under your lashes with a small quiet moan.

His eyes locked on yours and all at once his hips thrust forward, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat with enough force to make you choke slightly, but he didn't stop.

His grip on your hair tightened as he did what you'd asked, fucked your mouth.

You let him slide over your tongue effortlessly as he breathed heavily through his nose and muttered “Fuck”

You moaned around him, which only egged him on, coating your tongue with the beginning of his release.

His hips snapped hard and you moaned approvingly before he stumbled over his own words. “C-come I'm g-nnnuh”

Before you had a chance to acknowledge the flurry of noises over your head, Colt grunted and his thick hot release filled your mouth and just like he had, you sucked and swallowed everything he had to give.

He braced himself on the counter as you let him slide from your mouth before wiping the back of your hand across your lips and got to your feet.

You both put yourselves back together, and you buttoned your jeans as Colt's arms slipped back around his waist. Both of you still catching your breath.

He kissed across your face and down your neck, his teeth marks prominent, red and angry against your tanned skin. He kissed it gently before continuing along your jaw.

You hummed with protest as your hands slid up his back. “You're insatiable,” you giggled “Take up gum chewing or something”

He shook his head gently, “Uh huh,” his mouth barely pulling away to speak as continued to pepper your neck and face with kisses before his lips found yours, “Kiss more first…” he muttered against your lips, kissing you gently before he pulled back as you giggled.

“Control yourself, Seavers”

“Never” he shook his head pushing you back against the counter to once again lose his nose in your cleavage. His mouth sucking and nipping at the mounds of your flesh.

You pushed him back gently with a laugh surveying the bright red bite marks he left behind.

“God, can you at least hide them better?” You smirked as he leaned over you, you cupped his cheek, pulling him to you.

“I could,” he shrugged in between kisses “But I don't want to”

You rolled your eyes, pushing his bangs back off his forehead as he leaned over you. “I miss your long hair” you whispered as he leaned forward to kiss the tip of your nose.

“Wanna go do some donuts?”

“You mean go make out in your truck instead of in here?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“And maybe a couple of donuts,” he shrugged. When you didn't answer right away he continued “I'll start growing my hair out” he smiled

You smiled and draped your arms around his neck as he pulled you up from the counter. “How can I say no to that?”

He shrugged nonchalantly with that goofy grin you fell in love with.

“Let's go Stunt Man” you smiled, planting one last kiss on his swollen lips before slipping around him and out of your trailer.

#fic #ryan gosling #n sfw #the fall guy #colt seavers smut #colt seavers x reader #colt seavers

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babyprofessorsharkpalace · 10 months

Text

SOMEBODY WRITE RYAN GOSLING SMUT I CANT DO THIS ANY FUCKING MORE

#ryan gosling #ryan gosling smut #drive 2011 #blade runner #officer k #officer k x reader #holland march #ken #place beyond the pines #sierra six #the gray man #court gentry #young hercules #writers on tumblr #the fall guy #colt seavers #colt seavers smut #the fall guy smut

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svblimes · 2 months

Note

touching 35 + colt or hand holding 48 + ken

:3 you’re amazing btw

kissing their bruises and scars - colt seavers x reader

» summary: colt gets loving kisses to his wounds, soft banter included. established relationship.

» cw: mentions of bruises/small injuries

» word count: 426

-thank you again !! I'll probably write a little something for Ken as well later on!! :3

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * . . ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * . . ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * . . ݁ ˖ ࣪ . . ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * . . ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ *

Delicate fingers traced along the raised scar on the stuntman's lower back, lips grazing over it with a featherlike touch. Goosebumps rose on Colt's skin from the gentle motions, a shiver running down his spine. He sighed when he felt you trace his scar a second time over.

"What are you doing back there?" Colt quietly asked, drowsily smirking at you.

The two of you had been lounging on his bed, relaxing after a long day of participating in a press event for a film you worked on the year prior. You were almost always at Colt's side on and off set, this scenario being no different. And, as cool as you thought his job was, you always worried about Colt's safety after every leap and tumble he went through.

Your attention was so focused on exploring the stuntman's bare skin that his words were like white noise. He asked his question again, finally rendering you to blink out of your dreamy daze. The faint giggle that escaped you made Colt raise his eyebrow in amusement.

"Tickling you," You quipped, rolling your eyes. "Kidding. Can't I admire the fruits of your labor?"

Colt snickered at your sarcastic tone and stretched his legs, making himself comfortable beside you. "You mean my scar? Sure, I guess. What's so special about it?" He asked.

After retracing one of the many imperfections along his back, you pressed your lips against it, peppering kisses all over his back. You treated it as if it would harm him if you pressed any harder, your finger now delicately linking invisible dots around his scattered freckles. Colt's body shivered again, the slightest blush rose to his cheeks, hidden from you with his face turned away.

Without providing an explanation, you moved up to his shoulder, kissing the small blemishes near his neck. The heat emanating from Colt's body was blatant, his bashfulness amusing you.

"Look at me."

Colt rolled over to face you, inquisitive eyes searching yours. The pink dusting on his face complimented him well, a smile of his own fighting to stay covert as he anticipated your next move.

A quick peck to his nose caught him off guard and your hand moved to his chest, chastely tracing over his defined muscles.

"I'm just glad you're still here, you know?" You told him.

Colt chuckled, his smile widening from your words. He wrapped his arm over your torso and pulled you close until you were flush against him.

"I am, too." He replied, quickly connecting your lips in a slow, languid kiss.

#.myfic #colt seavers x reader #ryan gosling x reader #prompt rq #.myart

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gooseloverfiction · 20 days

Text

Crimson Rush

Colt Seavers x afab!reader +18

It was supposed to be 'chill with some drinks' type of the evening, but nothing is ever so simple with you two...

Warnings: bit of violence, blood, wound... Some blood kink? Or just *urge to lick that bit on your sexy bf*, other than that smuuuut, piv, no protection, fluff and some Colt's goofiness (?)

AN: All thanks to one comment of @bluehody at bts photos from Man's Health mag

Word count: 2512

You really needed that.

The bar, drinks and karaoke.

And Colt…

He was late as always, steaming hot after some run for a few blocks when shots took longer than he anticipated. But he still showed up as he promised. You had to give him that, he would move heaven and earth to get to his date.

It was almost perfect.

Except for the bunch of a-holes who wouldn't stop screaming to microphones, some bachelor party going into a mess, ruining your mood as you finally get your hectic schedules aligned for that one outing to have some fun. And you couldn't even sing.

You downed your drink with a loud gulp, making Colt side-eye you with raised brow.

“Slow down cowboy, we still have the whole night ahead.”

You rolled your eyes and mumbled something under your breath, showing to the bartender that you wanted the same drink again.

The warm, scratched hand caught your knee and rubbed soothing circles through the fabric of your jeans. He turned you on the barstool to face him and used his thumb to collect a single, orange drop from the corner of your mouth. You're suddenly too painfully aware you're in public, because you would definitely catch this finger with your lips and suck it, watching Colt's blissful face.

“Don't make those eyes, please…,” he leaned closer to you but it was too loud anyway for anyone to listen.

“What eyes?” your voice was far from innocent, when your lips ghosted his.

“OI GIRL, YOU CAN DO MUCH BETTER!”

You looked behind your man and saw drunk guys making some obscene gestures towards you. Colt wanted to turn around and see what it was about but you caught his stubbled chin, pulling him into a hot kiss. With the other hand you showed those guys international sign to fuck themselves and forgot about them once the eager tongue snaked into your mouth, making both of you moan.

Awful noise around you silenced and you managed to pry yourself from Colt much to his disappointment and almost run toward the microphones. Once on the ground, you knew he was right, you definitely went too hard and too fast on those drinks, your world suddenly spinning.

But before you could entangle yourself in cables around, a strong arm steadied you and the familiar scent made you weak in knees for a moment. When you looked at him, he had his goofy smile plastered to his face, his eyes showing the same amount of affection and drunkenness tho you had to admit he often had this dazed gaze when around you. Drunk with love, as he always said… how cheesy he could be. Colt definitely watched too many romantic comedies.

“What do you want to sing?”

You looked at the monitor he rolled in front of you and squinted your eyes. Your finger pushed the list up and a wide grin was instantly on your face.

“No… Come on… You know how terrible I sing,” he tried to leave you on a tiny stage but your grip on his leather jacket stopped him.

“Come on baby, no one can sing here. And it's not true, I like your sweet falsetto,” you kissed the tip of his nose and made him huff.

“You're not making it better,” he growled into your ear sending goosebumps down your neck.

Using your ultimate weapon, The Pout, made him finally push the play button and grab the microphone.

A familiar tune started, making you want to snap your fingers to it until Colt's part came, a bit too sudden for him but he quickly caught the tempo.

“I got chills, they're multiplying

And I'm losing control

'Cause the power you're supplying

It's electrifying (electrifying)”

You couldn't not break into a laugh for his high pitched voice trying to sound like John Travolta.

“You better shape up

'Cause I need a man

And my heart is set on you

You better shape up

You better understand

To my heart I must be true”

Colt made a hurt face, flexing his broad shoulders and wordlessly showing his all muscled up stuntman body. You slapped him as he made you break a few notes and he almost forgot to jump into the last line, “Nothin' left, nothin' left for me to do.”

With the chorus you both were so invested, you didn't hear any commotion except for music around you.

“You're the one that I want (you are the one I want)

Ooh, ooh, ooh, honey

The one that I want (you are the one I want)

Ooh, ooh, ooh, honey”

Someone stood in front of you, making your voice falter.

“Oi, cut that crap, give us those mics, we will show you how real men sing.”

The song still played but you stopped and looked at the same assholes from earlier with what you hoped was fearless anger.

“Oh yeah? And how do you know how real men sing?”

You could hear Colt groan behind you, knowing you were in a ‘making troubles’ mood.

“Listen bitch…” one of them started but quickly stopped when the stuntman caught his shirt and shook him.

“What did you say to that lady?” his voice was almost a low growl, making your stomach drop… Not only because of the sense of oncoming fight. Colt was a walking epitome of peacemaker and hardly ever turned into any kind of violence, but God he looked hot like that.

And then the chaos broke…

You couldn't even see the fist coming from Colt's left side, only when he ducked and made the punching guy hit his fellow, who was still in your man's grasp.

Stuntman moved back, turning his body to shield you, pushing you in at the right moment, when the third drunk roared and ran into him, slamming his body into a wall. Colt gut punched him and tried to get away from the attacker, circling him in some almost like dance move. Before the guy could turn, the kick in his ass sent him to the wall and the ground.

“Guys, guys! It's delicate equipment!” you've heard the bartender's pleading voice and shout to Colt when one of the men picked up the microphone and swung with it. He dropped at the last moment and made the guy tangle in the cables and fall…

A hard knock to his forehead made Colt stumble to the back, not getting exactly where it came from but before he could take another blow, you screamed and punched the man holding a heavy ashtray, square into his jaw, just like Colt taught you, sending him to the ground.

You turned to your man swaying on his feet, catching his open jacket and jeans shirt under it, pulling him into an embrace.

“God Colt, that looks awful…” blood trickled from his busted brow, caught up in his short beard.

“You were amazing,” he smiled and let you move him toward your seats.

You called for the bartender and asked for some clean cloth and he reluctantly brought one from the back and looked at you with narrowed eyes.

“Now pay up and leave before I call the cops… And don't come back…” his tone was more of a pleading but you still huffed in amusement. They're the ones who started it all!

Colt already put the bill, with some extra ‘for a trouble’, on the counter and headed for the door, pushing balled material into his throbbing head.

You whisked the keys from his pocket and he didn't protest, going right to the passenger seat in his truck.

---------------------------------------------------------

“What if it's a concussion?”

“I'll be fine. This is made of concrete,” Colt knocked on his head, wincing with pain.

"Concrete my ass…” you mumbled and peeled the jacket from his broad shoulders, took off his shirt and reached for his already blood dirty, formerly white t-shirt.

“I'm sorry, did I miss the moment where it was my fault?” the man asked with a silly smile. He always found you adorable when you were so frustrated and annoyed.

You took the crimson cloth from him, slowly, not sure what will be behind it. His whole brow was swollen, making his eyelid slightly covering his sparkling, blue eye. It looked bad…

But there was something mesmerizing in his ash covered, beaten up face, the tiny trickle of blood still coming from the wound.

“Hon… You have this look again…” he swallowed a bit of a shaky voice, the adrenaline making way for entirely different type of rush in his blood.

“What look…” your voice dropped into murmur, your face inches from his. “I'm sorry… But you look so hot right now.”

Colt didn't have a time to protest, when you slowly dragged your hot, wet tongue on the side of his face, tasting the metallic trail right up to his wound. He whimpered when your tip lapped not too gently on the cut, your lips trying to soothe the sting.

You didn't even know when you migrated on his lap, his hands clutching at your flanks. You weren't sure if he shook underneath you because of the pain or pleasure, but his hard bulge digging into your groin gave you some hints.

With some, not so subtle, moves of your hips you made Colt root into you, the friction definitely too little for your likening.

“Too many layers…” you groaned into his jaw, nibbling your way to his thick neck. Your hands desperately tried to undo all buttons in his jeans, feeling him doing the same to you.

Your lips captured Colt's moan when he felt your hand slip past his boxers and fixed his strained cock, taking some pressure of it, teasing his leaking head.

“Too tight, babe, you need to get rid of them…,” his hands pushed you abruptly and caught the waistband of your jeans, taking them off in one motion, almost ripping his own pants right after.

Before you could sit back at his lap, he held you by your butt, your knees wide with his muscled thighs between them.

“What are you…,” you've started but quickly shut up, when Colt slide down the seat, his wide chest pushing your legs even more apart. You brace yourself on the backrest of the couch and swallowed the shout ripped from your throat by stuntman’s skilled mouth attacking your already oversensitive pussy. He licked long strip between your folds, probing your dripping interior, pushing as deep as he could, making you shiver, pulling you closer to his face. His beard scratched but you didn't dare to say a word when he was licking you into oblivion. It felt almost too much when he sucked at your clit but still too little for you to come.

“Colt, Colt, Colt…” you tried to catch his attention and he stopped middle lick, tongue buried in your core.

“Whot, whot, whot,” he mumbled, moving his face with your raising body.

“I need you… All of you…”

You didn't have to tell him twice, being suddenly thrown on your back, your knees pushed to your chest.

The man above you didn't even play a tease, not even align himself, just impaled your pussy with his thick, veined cock, his heavy balls hitting your exposed butt.

“Oh…my…Go…” your moan died when he hit your cervix, but before you could feel any real discomfort, Colt moved back a bit and was too eager to keep himself deep long enough. He quickly picked up the pace, his breath uneven, wincing when the sweat from his forehead fall right into the cut on his brow. The salty drops mingled with fresh blood and dropped on your cheek and nose, leaving pink dots there. Feeling around, you caught the sleeve of Colt's t-shirt and gently wiped his face, keeping it for a moment on his injury.

He leaned into your touch, guiding your legs to hug his hips, pushing your chests together.

With hands thread through your hair, he kissed you, his moves becoming sloppy and irregular.

“I'm close baby, are you close?” he huffed into your mouth at one breath between kisses.

You nodded and then slightly shook your head. You were balancing on the edge for some time now, you just needed something little bit extra.

“Okay… Okay,” he mumbled and reached with his hand between you. His thumb found your clit right away, the arousal you felt making it impossible to miss.

You literally shook when he swiped the pad on your nub and before you knew, your pussy clenched his cock, driving it deeper, almost locking it inside.

Your eyes shot to his swollen brow and you felt almost embarrassed for how this look made you cum immediately.

Colt, feeling you contracting around him, your mouth letting a string of cut off moans, grunted into your neck, biting it, chasing his own bliss that made you full of his seed in seconds. He rode the high, pushing himself on his locked arms, looking into your eyes.

He didn't even have to tell you The Big Word. You saw it in his gaze. And you hoped he saw it too in yours.

With Colt's long puff and sudden cold embracing your sweat covered body, the sudden realization of everything that happened dawned on you.

“Oh God… Baby, I'm sorry,” you sat quickly, squirming at the cum flowing out of you and strain on your hips. You kneeled next to your man who now tried to catch his breath, wincing at the throbbing pain he suddenly became aware of.

“What are you sorry for?” he sighed and looked a bit dazed at you fussing around, your hands gently cupping his face.

“T-this and… you know…” your thumb reached but omitted the swollen part of his face.

“Your blood kink kicking in?” he chuckled and winced again.

Your eyes shot wide and you slapped his arm.

“I don't have a blood kink!”

You left him, rushing to the bathroom for a first aid kit and fresh water in a bowl.

When you got back to him, Colt managed to just tucked himself back in boxers, the whole day of shooting, the bar fight and your last quite intense session finally crushing down on him. He just hardly registered your gentle hands washing his face, cleaning his wound and putting some steri-strips on the cut to close it. With his injury secured you put his shirt on and helped him untangle from his jeans caught at his ankles and almost dragged him to bed.

---------------------------------------------------------

“How are you feeling, baby?” you took the glass from him after he swallowed some painkillers and let him pull you to lay on top of his body. He hummed and held you close.

“Dazed and amazed. You have a nice punch there, Rocky,” you felt him kiss the top of your head and wanting it or not, you let the weariness and lingering alcohol take over you, sleep suddenly heavy on your body.

Before blacking out, you only mumbled, more to yourself than Colt, “I don't have a blood kink.”

#ryan gosling #colt seavers x reader #colt seavers #fall guy #n s fw #x reader

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gcslingss · 6 days

Text

heart to heart. colt seavers.

summary: the last two days were being especially shitty. your close friend colt invites you over to a scene shoot, and suddenly everything becomes a little bit better.

pairing: colt seavers x gn!reader

warnings: heavy fluff, slight angst, kissing, mild swearing.

word count: 1.8k

notes: firstly, yes, the fic's name is mac demarco's song. i recommend listening to it while reading this. secondly, i had a terrible day today, thus the birth of this fic. hope you guys enjoy :)

p.s: colt is the sweetest guy ever. i wish he was real.

Today had been the worst day of the week.

You’d been told off, looked down at, or backhandedly insulted by nearly everyone you spoke to, and that didn’t leave the best feeling in you by the time it was nearly midnight and you were still awake, staring at the ceiling of your room.

Even your mum had called you clingy and ignored you, and your neighbour had started to pretend you didn’t exist, ignoring your attempts to talk to him, to give him the cake you’d made that afternoon, and he made sure to make you see how much of a good time he was having with his girlfriend.

And to top it all off, your best friend hadn’t contacted you in a week. You knew he was a stuntman and therefore was often busy, but that didn’t mean he could completely ignore you.

You really didn’t know what you’d done wrong to be having such a shitty day.

that’s when your phone pinged beside your pillow. You wouldn’t have checked it, but it pinged with the special sound you’d set for Colt Seavers.

What the fuck? There was no way Colt was texting after an entire fucking week.

You were bitter about it, but not enough to ignore it. So you picked up the phone, and saw two new texts from him in the lock screen preview.

Hi :)

You’re probably sleeping right now, but I’m way too excited not to tell you right now

You waited to see where he was going with this. A minute later, the third text came.

We’re shooting a really special scene for the movie I’m part of tomorrow - I have a big role

And then another one.

D’you wanna come? It would be so cool if you did

You would’ve been lying if you said you didn’t feel your heart warm up when you read that, a smile tugging at your lips. Any irritation you felt for him melted away.

You didn’t hesitate to properly open the text and send him a quick reply.

I’m up, shockingly

Yeah, I’d love to come :]]

There was an enthusiastic response, and then he went offline.

Well.

At least there was something to look forward to now.

You placed the phone aside and shuffled into the covers of your bed. You needed sleep if you were going to support him right tomorrow.

… … …

“-and apparently it’s some sort of sci-fi movie, and he’s got a whole lot of-“

“Sorry, I kinda need to go.”

And just like that, your so-called childhood friend walked away, eyes still glued to her phone’s screen, still giggling, not bothering to ever give you a wave or second look.

You stared at her leaving figure rather desolately, feeling numb, yet highly irritated. It only took a few seconds for the irritation to simmer down into severe self-doubt.

Were you annoying? Is that why nobody wanted to talk to you?

Did you say too much? Or were you not interesting enough?

What the hell was everyone’s problem?

The only who’d shown any signs of tolerating you recently was Colt, but there was this heavy feeling in your heart that even he was being fake.

Maybe you shouldn’t go to the shoot. He probably only invited you as a courtesy. he probably didn’t even want you there.

Like a fucking sign from the sky, your phone pinged, and a new message from him read-

Hope you didn’t forget you’ve got an appointment with me today doofus

You didn’t want to laugh, but it bubbled through your throat anyway, and something akin to the feeling of holding a warm candle on a winter day spread through your fingers.

He was so annoying.

… … …

You hadn’t moved a single muscle out of your little square for the past 2 hours, your arms stiff by your sides, your hands anxiously fiddling with each other, your bottom barely touching the chair you were given, and your eyes downcast, staring emptily at the sand.

There had been 3 takes of Colt’s super-actiony ‘falling from the sky’ stunt to be approved by the director.

It was break time now, and all the present actors and the director had retreated to their trailers. the only people outside were some of the snacking stuntmen, two extras fanning themselves, and you, too absorbed in your self-deprecating thoughts to have even realized the shoot was on break.

“You alright?”

Your neck could’ve snapped with the speed you looked up at, and you physically felt your face muscles cramp when you shifted expressions from despairing to absolutely peachy in less than a second.

“Hey! Yeah, I’m good,” you said, forcing a smile, “Just peachy.”

No. That word should’ve stayed in your head. Fuck.

Colt frowned, smiling almost suspiciously, “When have you ever used that word out loud?”

“…Just now,” you unconvincingly said. You were far too tired to come up with a good response.

“Was I good?” he asked, brushing past it, and you nodded, the smile becoming a little bit more genuine than before.

“You were great.”

He smiled too, and then observed you for a moment, his eyes searching, searching for any sign that you weren’t okay.

That was the plain truth, but you couldn’t let him know - not on his big day.

“I’m okay, Colty,” you said, patting him on his shoulder. You could see the extras watching your interaction, and your skin prickled.

“I’m gonna get going now, okay?” you said, standing up as stiff as ever, and turned, only to feel Colt’s hand pull on your wrist, stopping you.

“What?” you whined. Colt turned you by the shoulders to face you and watched your face, and you tried to ignore the way his lips formed the softest, fondest smile as he said, “Don’t go yet, c’mon.”

“You…you’re going to be busy, and I probably have something waiting for me at home, and I don’t want to imp-“

“D’you wanna talk for a bit? Maybe in Tom’s trailer?”

It became clear to you that he was not planning on letting you leave yet.

You thought about how tired you were, mentally and physically. Your brain hurt from all the buzzing, and your muscles hurt from the constant rigidity.

But then you thought about Colt, and his pretty smile, and his big blue eyes, and his husky laughter, and your mouth mumbled a soft “Okay.”

Colt nodded, and slung an arm over your shoulder as the two of you walked across the set towards the trailers.

… … …

“So Tom doesn’t mind if you use his trailer?”

“I mean, it’s not like he knows about it, so…”

You laughed and punched Colt in the arm, causing him to make a face that made you laugh harder.

But then the laughter died down, and your brain started buzzing again. You went silent, a dormant smile still on your face.

Colt noticed.

“I can tell when you’re feeling shitty,” he murmured, and as his hand slid into yours, you wondered how he even managed to use the exact word you used to describe your day.

You shook your head and shrugged, muttering a “I’m fine,” but then he scooted closed to you and began to rub gentle circles on your palm, uttering your name so softly, and something in you snapped.

Tears came to your eyes as your head drooped and you softly sobbed, throat feeling awfully tight.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice muddled, “I didn’t mean to cry, I’m sorry…”

“Hey, no, c’mon,” you heard him say softly, and his two arms wrapped around you, engulfing you in a hug you wished you’d gotten ages ago.

His fingers carded through your hair, his left hand held you close, and you could feel his lips by your temple, silent but reassuring.

You cried for an entire six minutes, because every time you told yourself to stop, the nonchalant gaze of your neighbour or the sharp words of your mum flashed in your mind and the tears came back twice as heavy.

Colt let you cry, and didn’t say a word about how you were drenching his jacket in tears, his little movements being the only thing keeping you from collapsing in your head.

When the weight you’d been feeling the entire day seemed to finally disappear, you pulled away, but only partly, still seeking Colt’s warmth.

“You alright?” he asked, voice softer than a whisper, and you felt so relieved when you smiled so naturally, and nodded.

“Yeah.” You wiped away the tear streaks on your cheeks. “I just… had a really bad few days. Everyone sounds a little extra rude.”

“I hope I’m not on the list,” he said, and you chuckled, shaking your head.

“Of course not,” you said. “You made everything better, if anything.”

“Well, I’m glad.”

You looked up at him. His gaze was keen, concerned, and so warm. His fingers were still caressing your palm.

What a wonderful creature he was.

You found yourself leaning in and kissing him, something he most certainly did not expect, but the faint sigh he elicited told you he didn’t mind it whatsoever.

He kissed you back, harder.

Shit.

The heat of his mouth, the feeling of his chapped lips against yours, his large hands cupping your face, and the little sounds he made when you brought his head close seemed to complete the healing of your tired heart, and after what seemed like an eternity, the two of you broke away.

His eyes were fixed on you, flustered, but appreciative now. His face was flushed.

After a moment’s silence, he looked down at his watch.

“Tom’s gonna be here any minute,” he muttered, his voice hoarse and hesitating. “We should leave this little hellhole.”

“Yeah. Okay.” It was an automatic response, because your brain really wasn’t functioning.

You got down the trailer, and thankfully no one spotted either of you, because of how Tom liked his privacy.

“There’s a little bit of the scene left,” Colt explained. “They probably don’t need me, but I should go check it out.”

“Of course. Yeah. I-I should probably head home too. I really enjoyed watching you stunt, by the way. It was great.” You gave him a a pat on his back.

“Good. That’s good.”

Colt nodded, giving you one final grin, and then turned to leave.

No, wait.

“...Colt?” you called out.

He stopped in his tracks and spun around. He looked expectant.

“Yeah?”

You didn’t know if you were crossing any lines with what you were going to say, but at that moment, you didn’t exactly care.

“I love you,” you said, and the words came so easily. “And thank you.”

You could see Colt’s breathing hitch, his chest raised mid-breath. Then, slowly breathing out, he murmured the words “I love you too” back, before he asked-

“Could I, um, come over tonight, maybe? I’m gonna be free,so....”

You’d forgotten anything and everything that had annoyed you at this point. All you could hear in your head was Colt now.

“Yeah, of course. Please.”

He grinned at your response, and he gave you a little goodbye wave, before walking away.

Two little hearts became whole that moment.

#colt seavers #colt seavers x reader #colt seavers fic #the fall guy #the fall guy fic #ryan gosling #ryan gosling fic #my fics #alecfics #i almost cried writing this #Youtube

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stupidfuckingwindow · 5 months

Text

One NSFW hc for (almost) every character // Part one

Notes: This was my attempt at a solution for writer's block. Let's hope it worked. Also I will NOT be writing a headcanon for Jerry later on because he was a real guy and that feels.. Weird.

Word count: 789

Richard Haywood

Absolute whore at every turn or time. Oh, you're away and in class, not paying attention to your phone? Well, look at that. There's an unsolicited dick pic from Richard's contact. That, or you and whoever you're showing something to is getting an eyeful of sexts that are meant to piss you off. That, or you're going to hear all about when he snuck off to go fuck either Justin or some random girl, all to get you jealous. When pissed off during an argument, Richard probably will grab you by the throat or shoulders and lick your face out of some strange, gay little impulse. What a weirdo.

Henry Letham

A lot of painplay with Henry is expected. He'll often cry during sex and needs both a cigarette and a minute to himself. By the time you come back to check on him with a warm rag and towel, he's quiet and there's another burn to his skin. It isn't that Henry hates the touch or attention- He's just overwhelmed at sudden want and tends to overthink things. Henry often backs himself into a corner on accident, and a bit of reassurance is all that's needed to help him, even if it seems like he's not listening or doesn't respond. Henry tends to remember every little thing about you and what you do, keeping it in mind for if he ever needs that information again. Severe thigh kink. Likes fucking your thighs, painting them, and touching them. Looks yummy in thigh highs as well.

Officer K

Considering that he's a robot, there's so much potential here. His dick vibrates, for one, and his cum is just neon colored lube. It takes a little while for him to get hard, and a fuck ton of stimulation is going to be needed. K also prefers sleepy sex, being able to hold you and have his cock warmed while the two of you just quietly unwind in one another's presence. He also enjoys long, hot showers with you for the same reason of getting to relax and being able to feel you close to him. You'll often cockwarm him while he works, especially when you're both not feeling particularly up to actually fucking. Sex with K is rare, and when it does ever happen, he takes his time.

Colt Seavers

Thick, tall, and heavy. Hoooh boy, Colt is big. He's muscular in his arms and thighs, with a belly and hip dips. Colt has a lot of hair, as well, and you best believe it's long and messy. He's so warm. Colt also has to eat a lot to maintain his energy, and his metabolism is high. He's the one who introduced food play into the bedroom, liking how it combined many of his interests. Colt loves it when you ride him. He knows he barely fits, and foreplay is always needed before anything happens between the two of you. Sex usually ends in him getting overly excited and a little rough. Colt falls asleep pretty quickly afterwards, and needs a little help staying awake long enough for Aftercare.

Noah Calhoun

Smells like pine, tree sap, and sawdust. Expect long, slow, and sleepy sex on the couch with a blanket thrown over the two of you. He usually does this with you late at night or in the afternoon, when neither of you have responsibilities. He likes moving your hips while you bury your face in his neck. That, or fucking you to sleep until he's too tired to keep going. Constantly touching you, whether that be your hips or tracing patterns into your skin or simply holding you. Noah likes feeling strong, and often carries you around the house for fun all while making excuses. The floor’s too cold for your feet, you'll freeze to death! even though it's hot as hell outside. Also makes excuses to take care of you at all times. You're getting his god awful ‘random things found in the fridge’ soup when sick whether you like it or not.

Julian Thompson

Number one bondage fan right here. Julian likes the restraint put upon either you, or himself. He feels safe when you tie him up, and revels in the rare control he can get when you're tied up instead. It's a common joke that Julian sits in the corner and stays quiet, but the cuck chair was made for him. You're usually tying him to the chair while he watches you touch yourself, or touching him while he's restrained. Julian also isn't opposed to you leaving him with just a vibrator for hours at a time, as well as having a cock cage outside of the bedroom. He feels secure whenever he's restrained.

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drivinmeinsane · 7 months

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Shot Through the Heart

※ Colt Seavers x GN!Reader ※

{ masterlist } ※ { ao3 }

※ Summary: You've worked with Colt off and on for years, building an easy rapport with the stuntman. The rest of the crew sends you to check up on him after he's bad off following a stunt that seems to have caused his nearly career-ending injury to act up.

※ Rating: T for suggestive themes.

※ Content/Tags: Fluff, Caretaking, No use of y/n, Mentions of old injury, Budding Love, Pre-Relationship, Solely based on the official trailer uploaded to YouTube by Universal Pictures

※ Word count: 3,052

※ Status: Oneshot/Complete

※ Author's Notes: The devil works fast but I work faster. That three and a half minute long trailer sure possessed me. Needless to say, I'm excited for the movie's release in a few months.

The setting sun is blinding you on its long journey below the horizon. You squint against the light at the block of apartments as you pull your vehicle into a stop alongside the curb. You really hope you’re at the right location. You’re not sure if you trust your crewmates to have given you the right address. You honestly did not really want to be here at all. Many of the crew for this particular production had worked with Colt before, so it really was wildly unfair that you had been unanimously volunteered to check up on the man after he was a no-show for the past couple days. Sure, he had called, but no one had actually laid eyes on him to verify his condition.

You put your car into park and open the door to step out into the evening heat. You immediately feel smothered by the warmth, and you reach across your center console to grab the items crowding your passenger seat. You withdraw, burdened, and nudge the door closed with your knee. You manage to hit the lock button on your key fob before you duck into the small parking garage. A flood of relief washes over you when you immediately spot Colt’s obnoxious brown and yellow truck. There are surfboards still resting in the bed of the vehicle. It’s parked haphazardly with no regard for anyone else’s need for the space. You’re in the right place at least. You skirt around it, eyes scanning for apartment numbers. You mutter his unit number under your breath while you look for it. You’re juggling a heating pad, multiple ice packs, and a bag of food. You’re not sure what you’re going to be walking into.

After what feels like an eternity of searching, you finally locate what you hope is his front door. With your hands full, you contemplate figuring out how to knock. You finally decide to just bang on the wood with your elbow. There’s no response or any whispers of movement. You sigh and hit it again, more aggressively. You know he’s home. The lifted monstrosity in the parking garage is proof enough. He avoids going anywhere without it.

You double down and are in the middle of hammering on the door for a third time when you finally hear muffled cursing gradually getting louder as the apartment’s occupant gets closer. To your relief, it’s Colt Seavers himself who yanks the door open hard enough you’re briefly worried he’s going to pull it right off the hinges. You open your mouth, about to launch into a bantering complaint about how he left you to rot on his doorstep when you register what exactly you’re looking at.

The man crowding the doorway is wet, straight from an interrupted shower. His shaggy, blond hair is falling into his eyes. The light from the setting sun reflects an orange glow on the water droplets racing down his body. He looks like he’s on fire. You drag your eyes from his obscenely exposed chest to his face. You try to pretend that you’re not talking to a very damp, very naked man preserving the last dregs of his modesty with only a towel wrapped around his narrow hips. You’ve just agreed with yourself not to acknowledge how large his hand looks clutching the fabric.

“Where’s the fire?” He asks. His annoyance fades away at the realization that you’re the one bothering him out of the blue.

“The guys sent me on a welfare check. We haven’t seen you in a few days.”

“I’m clearly alive so you’re welcome to-” He pantomimes you leaving by walking his fingers in the air “-report back that I haven’t died yet.”

“Welfare, not proof of life. Besides, you look like shit and I brought some supplies.” You argue, raising your arms to show your wares.

He looks like he’s thinking about pushing the issue, but he deflates, exhausted. He purposely lets out a dramatically weary sigh and gives you only the barest amount of space to get past him. You squeeze through the door, grazing against his wet arm. You hear him close and lock the front door behind you while you openly gawk at his apartment.

“You live like this?” You ask, slightly aghast. The place is a mess. There are plants and exercise equipment everywhere. The stuntman hovering behind you clearly has his priorities.

“Sure do. Just going to go finish rinsing off. I’d say make yourself comfortable but you’re already on your way,” he remarks, casting an amused glance at the way you’re wobbling while trying to extract yourself from your shoes with no hands.

You frown at his back as you watch him skirt around you and head in the direction of his bathroom. He’s moving jerkily, almost stumbling. His back is definitely messed up. You really hope it’s something that you will be able to assist with in some capacity. You know first hand how stunt work takes a toll on the human body.

Following the sound of a television, you manage to make your way to the living area. You shove over some electrolyte packets and gardening tools on his coffee table to create room for the bag of food that you made for him. The heating pad and ice packs get dumped on the floor next to one of the legs. As for yourself, you settle in on his couch to wait. You’re not surprised to see that he’s left an Indiana Jones movie playing on the screen. It seems like the kind of thing he would watch.

From the bathroom, you hear some muffled complaining before the shower kicks on. The sound of the rushing water does little to cover the noise of the shower curtain hooks on the rod as he wrestles with the material. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, thankful you didn’t hear Colt fall trying to get over the edge of the tub. The last thing you wanted was to wrestle your naked crewmate while on the phone with emergency services.

Only a few minutes pass before the water cuts off and you hear the door open. You can’t help but notice that you didn’t hear the sound of his bedroom door closing. There’s just the sound of footsteps and rustling fabric. He emerges, wearing a pair of garish pajama pants. He’s still distractingly shirtless, because why wouldn’t he be? It’s not as though he has a guest that is trying very hard to be normal about this entire situation. There’s a towel draped over his bare shoulders in the effort to contain the mess produced by his sopping wet hair. Trails of water are running down his neck and soaking into the cloth.

Colt practically drags himself over to you. He lowers himself onto the cushion at your side, and makes an effort to avoid leaning against the back of the couch. You turn to face the blond man, taking a hard look at him. He looks even worse up close than he did when he greeted you at the door. Exhaustion is deepening the fine lines in his face and his eye bags nearly have their own luggage.

“How are you doing? Really?”

He gives you one of his goofy grimaces and flashes a thumbs up. He can’t hide the wince as movement pulls at his back muscles. The look you give him in return is unimpressed.

“Can you even function?”

“Barely,” he says with a groan as he tries to get a little more comfortable. He still looks painfully stiff.

You suppress the urge to give him a comforting pat on the leg and instead lean over to dig the meal you had brought for him out of the bag. You shove a tupperware container, a wrapped sandwich, and a plastic fork at him until he takes them. He looks bewildered.

“Eat. The dressing is in the small container hanging out in the salad greens.”

“Did you make this yourself?”

“I’ve worked with you enough times to know how you are, so yes.” You admired the man’s discipline, but it had been cause for concern while you desperately scoured your kitchen looking for something to make that wasn’t going to fall under the umbrella of junk food.

“Maybe I should reinjure myself more often then,” he says with a smirk and raises his eyebrows. You don’t dignify him with a response.

He balances the container of salad on the armrest next to him and sets to work on unwrapping the sandwich. It’s grilled chicken breast with a truly ridiculous amount of lettuce and tomato. You hadn’t dumped condiments on it, not wanting it to get soggy during the car ride.

“I’m here to play nursemaid so can I do something about all of that? '' You gesture to his dripping hair and his hunched over body.

He looks up from the sandwich like he’s holding something precious in his hands. “You made me this. You can do anything you want with me. I’ve only got a few limits.”

You roll your eyes at his suggestive tone before rising up onto your knees. You shuffle closer, knees mere inches away from grazing the outside of his thigh. The towel slips freely from his shoulders and he doesn’t complain when you drape it over his head. You gently work the material over his hair. Colt starts in on the sandwich while you work carefully to dry him without putting unnecessary pressure or movement on him. You take a corner of the towel and wipe away the water that has trailed down his face and his neck. You don’t go any further down than his collarbone not daring to drag the fabric over his chest. You have to cling to some level of professionalism between coworkers. He leans into the touches in the areas you are willing to wipe dry. You pretend not to notice.

He eats like he’s been starving ever since the last day you and the rest of the crew had seen him on set. He probably had been if he was still in this bad of shape days later. You leave him to start in on the salad. On your way to hang the towel over the shower curtain rod to dry, you stumble over a stray weight that had been left in the middle of the floor. You manage to suppress your pained noises despite the tears leaping to your eyes. Why had you been volunteered for this? Your crewmates had been suspiciously giggly and evasive when you had protested. They had just made excuses and jokes about how you were Colt’s favorite person and you being the one to check on him would make his day. What a load of crap.

“What do you usually do for your back?” You ask, coming back into the room and trying to not let on you nearly had your own medical emergency just out of sight.

“Just uh… stick the tens on it and stretch it out.”

“Gotcha. Finish that up and we’ll start on your back,” you tell him. You crouch down next to the coffee table and gather the ice packs. You won’t be using them today. The injury has sat for too long.

“Thanks, nurse,” he responds around a mouthful of greens.

You cross the apartment and pull open the door to the freezer. You cram the ice packs onto an already sizable stack of them sandwiched between the freezer wall and bags of frozen vegetables. The refrigerator itself is covered in receipts, bills, coupons, business cards, brochures… You’re really not sure how Colt is able to find anything. You suppose that it’s all his own brand of organized chaos.

You make your way back to the living room in time to see him clamp the lid back on the tupperware container. You give your head a little shake. The man inhaled an entire sandwich and a salad in under fifteen minutes. Impressive. You hope his stomach handles going from zero to a hundred with more grace than yours would. You don’t feel like holding his hair back while he vomits.

“How do you want to do this? Floor, couch, or bed?”

He twinges his back when he twists to look up at you. You’d laugh if you hadn’t felt a sting of worry at the way he winced. You know Colt’s a tough man. You have seen him take hit after hit over the past few years. He must be hurting badly to be showing this much sincere discomfort. You’ve seen him ham it up as a joke, but this was the real deal.

“I’m glad one of us thinks I’ll be able to get off the floor. How about you take me to bed, beautiful?”

He heaves himself off the couch and you trail after him into his bedroom. The floor is messy like the rest of the house. You’re not sure if he’s always this disorganized or if it was just something that has resulted from him not being able to keep up with it due to his back. Given the state of his fridge, you’re strongly considering that it’s the former and not the latter.

“How do you want me?” The flirtatious tone isn’t quite coming through as intended with him standing like he’s auditioning for the starring role in a live action adaptation of the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

“On your stomach, please. Do you have lotion or anything I can use on you?”

He groans as he makes his way onto the bed and lays face down. He’s unable to relax, the muscles in his back are too tight. “I have some vaseline in the bathroom. Right drawer.”

You set the heating pad down on the bed next to him after plugging it in. You make another trek to the bathroom to search for the aforementioned vaseline. It’s not hard to locate and you manage to dodge the weight this time. You’re not about to wreck your foot on it again. Once was enough.

You settle on the bed next Colt, careful not to jostle him. You swipe your fingers though the vaseline to collect a sizable dollop of the substance. You set the container aside and liberally coat your hands with what you had scooped out. Your eyes catch on the long scar running alongside the stuntman’s spine. It’s pink and raised, a fairly old wound but not old enough to fade to silver. You weren’t there when Colt got the injury. You’d been on another set halfway across the world, but the things you’d heard months later from people who had been present when it happened weren’t good. He had nearly died and if he had… you would have just been left with memories spanning the hours spent with this cocky man. You would have likely said a few words at his funeral, if you had even been able to make it, and that would have been the end of Colt Seavers. He would be just another stuntman who died doing what he loved. The thought puts a pit in your stomach. You push it aside, he’s still alive and he’s waiting for you to get on with the program.

The initial touch of your hands against his bare back causes you both to tense up and go deathly quiet. Your pulse is hammering in your years and you swear you can hear the sound of his throat as he swallows. You try to not knee him in the side as you start to massage the expanse between his broad shoulders. It’s not long before he’s melting into the mattress, relaxing under your touch. You work him over, section by section. You gently knead the raised line of scar tissue, helping to discourage the excess building of collagen. A little lower and he’s groaning when you carefully dig your knuckles into the skin above his waistband, forcing the tight muscles to yield. He’s limp and unresistant when you catch him by the hip and pull his pelvis in your direction to better align his spine.

Thankfully, you spot an already dirty shirt nearby. You pick it up and wipe your hands on it with a grimace. Most of the vaseline has either ended up on the man currently face down on his bed or had absorbed into your palms, but you still didn’t want to risk tracing it through the house before you slathered your hands in dish soap to remove any oily residue. As a final token of care, you lay the heating pad across his lower back and turn it on the medium setting. You’ve done all you can do for him.

Colt is so still and quiet that you’re sure he’s fallen asleep. You turn away from him and inch towards the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb him while you begin your exit from his apartment and back to your vehicle. You nearly leap out of your skin when he shifts enough to catch hold of your forearm. His hand is so large that his middle finger and thumb nearly touch.

“Please stay.” He sounds tired, vulnerable. There’s no charisma or bravado to his voice.

You feel your face soften as you take in his words. “All right.”

You scoot back towards him and lay down on your back at his side. The bed is barely big enough for the both of you like this. It’s intimate, too intimate, especially since your arm is still in his grasp. You can’t bring yourself to mind. The line between being coworkers and whatever this is was blurred a long time ago anyway despite your best efforts to tell yourself otherwise. You're starting to realize your crewmates might have been more aware than you were. Those assholes.

When Colt rises up onto one elbow and leans over, taking all the time in the world to project his intentions, you don’t turn from him. You just bring a hand up to brush his still damp hair out of his face. You guide the stuntman the rest of the way in, your hand migrates to cup his bearded cheek. The kiss you share is inevitable and unhurried. It feels as natural as breathing.

#the fall guy (2024)#the fall guy #colt seavers #colt seavers x reader #ryan gosling #ryan gosling character #the fall guy fanfic #colt seavers fanfic #my work #my posts

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happy74827 · 16 days

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I have to stop going to the movies because my obsession of fictional hot men just keeps growing…

That being said, who wants some Colt Seavers and Tom Ryder fics? 👀

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youaintnothinbuta · 6 days

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Please please please do a Colt Seavers x reader where they get married im in NEED to marry him sm he's so malewife <3

“This is it.” — Colt Seavers x reader

Summary: colt and you have the most perfect wedding, exactly the way you dreamed it would go <3

Pairing: colt seavers x reader

Word count: 1.1K

Warnings: none!! Wedding Fluff <3 sorry if there’s typos

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You stand against the corner of the old castle-esque building, the sun casting comforting warmth over the meticulously tended gardens surrounding you. Your heart races as you press your back against the cool stone, gripping Colt's hand tightly. He’s just on the other side of the corner, you can’t see each other, but his strong, confident presence is relieving.

“I can’t believe it,” you say softly, squeezing his hand.

“I know, darlin',” Colt replies, his voice rich and steady. “This is it.”

“Don’t you dare pull some crazy stunt on me.” You laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep within you, easing some of the tension in your chest.

He laughs, “I promise, baby.”

Just then, your best friend and maid of honour, Emily, approaches, her dress swishing softly as she walks. “Alright, you two,” she says with a grin. “It’s time. Colt, you head to the altar. It’s almost showtime.”

“See you soon, beautiful. I love you,” Colt says, giving your hand one last squeeze before letting go. The absence of his touch feels strange and momentarily unsettling, but you take a deep breath, grounding yourself.

"I love you too," you reply, your voice barely a whisper.

Once he’s gone, Emily turns to you, her eyes shining with excitement. “Ready to do this?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you say, a smile spreading across your face.

Your father appears then, his eyes misty with pride and emotion. He offers you his arm, and you take it. “You look amazing,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead gently.

“Thanks, Dad,” you reply, your voice thick with emotion.

“Let’s go give Colt a run for his money, huh?”

You laugh softly as you both step forward, and the double doors of the church open wide. The soft strains of the wedding march fill the air, and you see Colt standing at the altar, his eyes locked onto yours. He looks incredibly handsome in his suit. The moment he sees you, a visible shift happens. His strong features soften, and his eyes well up with tears. By the time you’re halfway down the aisle, those tears have spilled over, streaming down his cheeks. Your eyes blur with tears too, watching as he brings his hand over his mouth to stifle a cry.

You can’t feel the ground beneath you. You body is heavy, you move in slow motion against, hyper aware of all the eyes on you, yet the only thing in focus is Colt. When you reach him, your father places your hand in Colt’s and steps back, tearing up at the sight of you.

“Hi,” he whispers, his voice trembling with emotion. “You’re perfect.”

The intensity of the moment hits you, and you feel a tear slip down your cheek as you whisper-laugh, “Hi.”

He reaches up to gently brush it away, his touch tender. The ceremony proceeds, a blur of words and emotions, but every moment is etched in your heart. When it’s time to say your vows, Colt is up first, his voice earnest as he speaks to you.

When the officiant finally pronounces you husband and wife, Colt holds you, one hand on your waist, the other on your back. He dips you, placing a gentle, passionate kiss on your lips.

The reception had been everything you’d dreamed of—laughter, dancing, and love filling every corner of the grand hall. But now, the lights are dimming, and the music has faded into a soft murmur as the last guests say their goodbyes. You stand by the door, your arm looped through Colt's, watching your families exchange hugs and parting words.

“Take care of each other,” your mom says, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears as she hugs you tightly.

“We always have, Mom,” you assure her, squeezing her back before turning to Colt’s parents. They embrace you warmly, their approval and happiness evident.

As the last of the well-wishers leave, Colt looks down at you, his eyes filled with tenderness. “Ready to go, Mrs. Seavers?”

A thrill runs through you, at the sound of your new name.

“Almost,” you say, glancing around the now-empty room. “Let’s just have one more moment here. Just us.”

Colt nods, understanding. He leads you to the center of the room where earlier you’d shared your first dance as husband and wife. The remnants of the celebration—a few scattered petals, empty chairs, and half-finished glasses of champagne—create a quiet, intimate atmosphere.

Without a word, Colt pulls you into his arms. You rest your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as he begins to sway gently. There’s no music now, just the sound of your footsteps and the faint hum of the night outside.

“Today was perfect,” you murmur, closing your eyes and losing yourself in the feel of his arms around you.

“It was,” he agrees softly. “But this—just you and me—this is what I’ll remember most.”

You smile against his chest, your heart swelling with love. "Me too. This is all I’ve ever wanted."

The two of you continue to sway, the room silent except for the rustle of your dress and his suit.

Colt tilts your chin up, his eyes searching yours. “I promise to make every day feel like today,” he says, his voice wet with honesty.

It’s dark, but he can see your bright smile. He leans down, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss. When he pulls back, you’re both smiling, your foreheads resting together.

“Let’s go, Colt.”

The night is still and full of promise as Colt opens the car door for you, and you slip inside. As he joins you and starts the engine, you take his hand, feeling the warmth and strength of his grip. He turns to you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Wanna do some doughnuts?” he asks, a playful smile spreading across his face.

You laugh, shaking your head. Why aren’t you surprised? “Sure.”

With a grin, Colt revs the engine, and the his truck roars. The two of you share a quick, exhilarated glance before he maneuvers the car into an empty section of the parking lot. Then, with his stunt man expertise, he whips the steering wheel, and the car spins in tight circles, the tires screeching against the pavement.

You’re both laughing now, the rush of adrenaline making the moment even more thrilling. The night sky spins above you, the stars blurring into streaks of light as he wraps his free arm around you, holding you to his side.

When he finally brings the car to a stop, you’re both breathless, your cheeks flushed with excitement. Colt turns to you, his eyes shining. “I love you,” he says, his smile shining through his tone.

“I love you too,” you reply, leaning over to kiss him.

#ryan gosling #the fall guy #ryan gosling x reader #colt seavers #colt seavers x reader #colt seavers x yn #the fall guy fanfic #the fall guy imagine #Ryan gosling x you #reader x Ryan gosling #you x ryan gosling #yn x Ryan gosling #the fall guy 2024 #emily blunt #Ryan gosling x y/n #y/n x Ryan gosling #Ryan gosling colt seavers

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