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peter-rabbit-esque · 9 months

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"I'm tired of looking sweet and doofy, I wanna serve cunt!"

- Me, today.

Also face reveal ig

I lost some weight and did my hair good so feeling heaps better about my body image overall 👍

#nice to feel like some semblance of human after a year feeling horrid #please dont let this flop #only my bangs are allowed to flop #hair #gay #color #rainbow #fantasy color #twink #lesbian lil peep meets gus dapperton #wlw #gnc #gender nonconforming #androgeny #enby #lesbian #pansexual #masc bottom pride #ftm twunk

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maddybaes-blog · 27 days

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In the sanctuary of my own space, I find solace and strength. 💖 Today, I'm embracing the beauty of simplicity, wrapped in the comfort of home. From the soft glow of candlelight to the warmth of my favorite blanket, every moment exudes an irresistible allure. It's not just about where you are, but how you carry yourself through it all. So here's to embracing every curve, every flaw, and every moment with unapologetic confidence. Because true allure isn't just about what you wear or where you go; it's about owning who you are, wherever you may be. #HomeGoddess #ConfidenceIsKey #OwnYourBeauty 🏡✨💁‍♀️.

First person to Reblog got the key😘❤💋

#transgender #transformers #transfem #transgirl #trans masc #trans man #trans woman #trans beauty #mft trans #qsmp #hot twink #muscle #usa #trans pride #transformation #trans bottom

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iwonthepageant · 2 years

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got top surgery today :D happy pride month!!!!!

#trans #transgender #trans man #trans masc #art #trans art #trans artist #pride month #pride #pride 2022 #top surgery #tfb #the front bottoms #uglie boy

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artificialqueens · 11 months

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🏳️‍🌈 WeHo Trans Nights: Chapter 1 (Bianca Del Rio / Kylie Sonique Love ; Multi) - Imafuckinglibra

A/N : Happy fucking pride, that’s it. I don’t care if the month’s almost over, this mini-series is my pride gift to you all and ngl myself. This was pure, unapologetic, self-indulgent smut that I wanted to exist and you know what, I am really proud of it. And yes, I pinky promise there will be art that follows for this next queue, k bye.

“…then this dumb bitch had the audacity to say, get this, people were killed at Stonewall.”

The small room filled with a loud uproar of oohs, aahs and a few laughs, none of which came from Roy. He was far too busy reposting some snide comeback he tweeted at a heckler to his Instagram, his Instagram story, Facebook, and once again on Twitter, just for good measure.

“Did you hear that?” Darienne asked, slapping Roy roughly on the back.

“Yeah bitch dumb something stonewall, so funny…” Roy drawled absentmindedly, still typing away on his phone.

Never one to shy from a good excuse to celebrate something, his best friend Shane threw an annual party to kick off pride. Always a different stupid theme and always a hotbed for degenerates.

This being the 8th year in a row, Roy had had enough. All night, he’d fulfilled his best-friend duties and helped keep everything running smoothly, as usual, but nearing the end of the party he was not in the mood for any more mindless small-talk. Even with Darienne.

Darienne, still standing beside him, sighed deeply, “Will you lighten up please?”

“Ugh, why?” he grumbled. “You know I hate pride.”

“Now, Roy…”

He felt someone’s hands on his shoulders.

“My love.” It was Shane, cooing in his ear, taking the phone out of his hand just as he hit the last post. “Can we please put the phone away for one night and engage in polite society?”

Roy blinked at him slowly, emphasizing the stupidity in his statement with a loud smack of his lips.

“Look around you,” he gestured with his open palms, “NONE of these people are polite society.”

“Well-“

“Willam sucked off a guy while he watched dog porn, I know Australians have different worldviews but we regular folk see that as…what’s the word?” Shane shifted from one foot to the other, crossing his arms in annoyance as Roy kept pretending to think. “Nasty ass shit!”

“I hate you,” Shane broke out into a laugh, hitting Roy on the arm with his bedazzled rainbow fan, a little roughly at first but then a few more times, playfully, till Roy stopped frowning.

“Okay, okay.” Roy snatched his fan from him.

“But thank you for coming to my party, even if we have so many degenerates.”

“Of course, I get my best material at your little shindigs.”

And that really was the God’s honest truth. As much as Roy loathed Shane’s parties and having to engage with so many people who he tolerated at best, it did make for some top-tier stand-up material. Material the budding comic desperately needed.

“Oh I know,” Shane nodded. “I intend to get royalties any day now.”

“Is that how it is?” He raised an eyebrow. “So this is a business affair?”

“Oh pussyface, at this point I’d settle for any affair.”

“Only if you ask nicely,” Roy shot back with a shit-eating grin, his hand sliding down from Shane’s shoulders to the small of his back.

“Don’t tempt me, I have guests to entertain,” Shane sighed, turning away from Roy and towards the room of people. “Like that one!”

Shane waved at Adore, running off to go catch up.

Roy gave the room another scan, checking for any out of place cups or spills to clean up, even sort of hoping there would be a stain on the carpet to scrub so he’d have something to cure his boredom.

Then, like a godsend, he saw her walking towards him.

“My my, aren’t you just cuter than a box of kittens on a Sunday afternoon?” Kylie whistled when she saw Roy’s outfit.

“Haven’t seen you all night, I was wondering why this party was so quiet,” Roy teased.

“Careful, one of these days I might take it personally,” Kylie smiled. She finally turned around, arms open for a welcoming hug. “Well hey there, Sugar!”

“How are you, Sugartits?” He squeezed her tight, getting a good whiff of her deliciously sweet perfume.

Roy loved getting to hang out with Kylie, rare as it was. There wasn’t a specific reason, she was just that one friend he never really got to work with regularly and thus never spent time with. But it did make reuniting so much sweeter.

They both looked at each other and gave a good exhale, neither sure what to say except the usual, “you look good” or “I’ve missed you”.

Instead they quietly made their way to the bar where the poor twink bartender Shane found on Grindr was panicking while pouring drinks, clearly out of his depth. Roy’s sympathetic smile seemed like the only comfort he’d received all night and for a second he almost felt bad for him, till he decided to note it down in his phone for later material instead.

“Well,” Kylie broke the silence first, turning towards where Willam was still telling his story. “He’s doing the Derrick bit again…never gets new material, does he?”

“Nope.” Roy popped the p for emphasis.

It seemed like every year, Willam would tell this same story, Roy would get drunk on the same cocktails and, if he played his cards right, Shane would ask him to stay over at the end of the night for a wild evening of sinfully good sex. The latter he wasn’t too mad at.

And Kylie. Every year they’d flirt a little over the same shots of tequila, catch up on what was new in their lives, and then part ways yet again. Same old same old, and this year she was right on cue again.

“I’m pretty surprised we’re dressed the same. I mean I look better but we knew,” she teased while they waited for their drinks from the struggling bartender. “I didn’t think anyone else would come as a slutty witch, let alone you.”

“Ouch,” Roy pretended to flinch, pressing his hand to his wounded chest. “Say what the fuck you really think, cunt.”

“Oh please, you can take it.”

“You like that?” Roy asked, lifting a brow. “You should see how I give it.”

Even without looking Roy could feel her hand moving slowly closer to his on the countertop. He tried to decipher if it was just his mind playing tricks on him or if she was trying to do a little more than flirt this time around.

Not that he would mind. She was gorgeous; she’d always been gorgeous but tonight, she was a downright smoke show. It was obvious how much work she put into her body just from her Instagram posts but seeing it in person was something else.

Well, that or just the obvious; the costume she wore was so small and tightly fitted it was damn near indecent.

When Shane had given the theme for the year as ‘Gay Christmas,’ the West Hollywood way of saying Halloween, he didn’t expect anyone else to even bother thinking of a witch; it was too mundane.

And yet, here Kylie stood in nothing but a corset, a lace bustle that showed off her black panties, leather opera-length gloves and boots that went all the way to her thighs. An oversized witch hat and teeny, tiny broom as accessories as if they were an afterthought to make the witch part fit.

“So um, can I ask you something?” Her fingers crawled towards him, running them over the back of his hand.

“Yeah, sure.” He casually took a sip from his cocktail as if the butterflies in his stomach weren’t going berserk.

“I need you to promise me if anyone brings out their guitar or starts singing again this year…”

“Oh god!” Roy burst out into hysterical cackling. The visions of last year’s fiasco and the horrors of 20 queers trying to sing over each other replayed in his mind.

“We are out of here!” She slapped his shoulder, joining in his laughter. “Member when uh, what’s her name?” She snapped her fingers, “the little one with the baby face and the sad songs?”

“Blair,” Roy shuddered.

“Blair!” Kylie pulled her face in confusion. “I always expect some big gal with like some unseasoned potato salad in hand when someone says Blair St. Clair, don’t you?”

“If that ain’t the honest truth, bitch.”

They clinked their glasses and each took a sip, smiling cordially at each other before they returned their focus to where Willam was starting a new story about how drunk Derrick had gotten at a comedy special they did together.

Not quite as old a story as his Stonewall tale, but once you got him going he didn’t relent on any chance to diss good ol’ Derrick Berry, especially when he was in attendance, practically blowing smoke out of his ears with rage.

“So, how’d Shane talk you into this?” Kylie asked, dragging Roy’s focus back from his phone, yet again replying to snarky comments left on his posts.

“Do you mean the party or the get-up?” He didn’t even bother looking up, too distracted in his mission to get the last word in.

“You do look fantastic in that shirt though,” she teased, fingering the little piece of loose thread around his shoulder.

Maybe he’d gone for a predictable look, a black mesh crop top that barely came up to his chest, the same leather harness every respectable queer person owned, black denim shorts, some knee length black boots (which Shane had happily provided) and a witch’s hat.

“I know,” he nodded, finally putting the phone away. “Black’s my color. Have to admit, you don’t look half bad yourself.”

“Oh I know, sugar. You don’t have to tell me.”

“I always forget just how country you are until you talk.” He smiled, a sense of homesickness tugging at his chest. “Sugah.”

“Are you tickled, bitch?”

“I am very tickled…especially by that outfit,” he whistled, making her spin around while holding her hand over her head. “You really—“

“Fill it out well?” Clearly she’d gotten this note before.

“No.” He grabbed her by the arm, pulling her roughly back against him so she’d be facing the same direction as him. “Look.”

“What?” She stopped, looking down at where he held her bicep.

“Better grab your shit…and quick.” He failed to hide an amused smile as he pointed over to where Trixie and Jinkx were setting up their chairs and a guitar.

“Oh, sweet baby Jesus…” Kylie’s eyes went wide in horror when Trixie began strumming the intro to Jolene by Dolly Parton. She quickly grabbed her drink, trying to chug the rest.

“Forget the goddamn drink, run!” Roy laughed, pushing her towards the front door with his hand on the small of her back.

“Is this your first time seeing my place?” she asked politely when they walked into her apartment.

“Uh, yeah.” Roy nodded. “Pretty sure, but it’s nice. Good view.”

God it was awkward.

“We don’t have to make small talk, do we?” she asked with a hesitant tone while putting down her stolen glass down on a countertop. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to Roy and continue their banter from earlier, but she did have more pressing issues to take care of first.

Roy crossed his arms, his brows furrowed as if he was thinking something through, asking, “No chit chat? You sure?”

“If you are.” Kylie shrugged.

Faster than she could say flash Roy closed the distance, crashing their lips together in a feverish rush. His hands were already desperately clinging to whatever fabric he could find to rip it off of her.

“God you just got even sexier,” she breathed into his mouth.

Kylie could feel the corners of his lips twisting into a smile, presumably at the relief that he didn’t have to wait around anymore.

“Back, uh, back room, on the right,” she instructed between breathy moans, following Roy’s lead and removing the thin piece of fabric he dared call a shirt as he pushed her into her bedroom.

Their costumes flew left and right in a haphazard rush to undress till Kylie was finally down to just her corset, and Roy had to let go of her to focus.

“Lord have mercy.” He stopped in his tracks, admiring her tits when they escaped the top loosened laces of her corset.

“You like em, baby?” Obviously Kylie knew the answer, given the way his mouth practically salivated at the sight of them.

“You have no idea,” he moaned, taking one of her nipples in his mouth, causing her head to tilt back in gorgeous ecstasy as Roy’s tongue swirled around it, soothing where his teeth had grazed it.

He let the now over-sensitive bud go with a loud pop, satisfied at his handiwork, and reached for the second one, repeating every step, every bite and every lick, making Kylie practically vibrate with desire.

“Now don’t make me beg.”

Kylie’s long fake nails latched onto Roy’s ass in a desperate attempt to guide his thigh between her legs for any kind of friction as he kept worshiping her breasts.

“I can’t help it,” he murmured into her neck, latching onto her pulse point with his teeth.

“Dammit, why did I wear this stupid thing?” Kylie whined.

She hadn’t expected Roy, ever the hardass, to be so attentive or teasing, letting her get embarrassingly wet and needy before he even made an effort to remove her corset any further.

“Don’t worry baby, I got you,” he soothed, at long last pulling the laces apart.

His gentle tone was a stark contrast to the way his teeth tore into her flesh, nipping at freshly exposed skin lower and lower at a snail’s pace till his knees hit the floor.

“Boy, if you don’t-“ Kylie exhaled impatiently when he paused right at her clit, so close she could feel his breath against her wetness.

She grabbed a fistful of Roy’s hair, the fingers of her other hand spreading herself open so he couldn’t miss what she was asking. Practically offering herself up on a silver platter for him to indulge in.

Roy smirked at her, probably ready to quip something stupid back at her but she pulled his head between her legs, trapping him with a flat palm behind his head before he could even dare.

Finally obeying, his tongue flattened out against her with his eyes pointed up at her, carefully watching her every reaction to every drag of his tongue.

“Baby, please,” she moaned a little more forcefully this time, rolling her hips against him. She didn’t have the patience for teasing licks anymore. She tried angling her hips up so he’d get the message but her legs faltered.

“Woah there.” Roy grabbed onto her with both arms, steading her so she wouldn’t tip over. “Maybe we should…” He tilted his head towards the bed.

“Might be for the best,” she admitted, letting go of Roy so he could stand up.

Face to face again, Roy slipped his tongue into her mouth, letting her taste herself on him as he walked her till the back of her knees hit the bed and she finally laid down.

With his hands on each thigh and a good forceful push, he shoved her further on the bed, her head against the headboard so he’d have enough space to lay down between her thighs on the edge of the matress.

“Baby,” Kylie gasped when Roy’s thumb replaced his tongue on her clit, swiping quick circles around and around till she was breathless. Her hips thrust sporadically onto his pointed tongue, white knuckles gripping the sheets the only thing grounding her.

“Good?”

Ungodly good. Her whole body was alight, lightheadedness set in, her belly warm with anticipation, her cheeks flushed bright glowing red; all the warning signs that she was about to snap.

“Faster…”

“You’re so-“ he tried humming against her but a firm tug at his hair shut him up again.

“Don’t speak!”

It was all too much, even the way Roy was moaning into her while his hips rolled against the edge of the bed.

“Just a little more…oh god…” She sucked in a deep breath, bracing herself as waves of overwhelming pleasure crashed down on her, knocking the wind out of her till she was a softly cursing mess.

The way Roy was still trying to toy with her by tentatively licking slow strokes around her clit even after she stopped shaking, although appreciated, had left her overstimulated.

“I need a minute.” Kylie tapped Roy’s shoulder.

“You okay?”

“Are you okay?”

“Well, I’m definitely kicking myself for not doing this sooner.” Roy flashed a cheeky grin, wiping his wet chin off on her thigh.

“Oh, sweetheart.” She caressed his face, slipping her thumb into his mouth for him to suck on instead, dragging his bottom lip out. “I knew that big mouth of yours would have a good use one day.”

“Bitch.” Roy bit down.

“Why you son of a!” she hissed.

“What? Little ol’ me with the big mouth?

“If you don’t get your ass up here,” she snarled, sitting up and leaning forward enough that she could brush her lips against his, tempting him with a kiss just out of reach, “so help me…”

Roy eagerly obeyed and not particularly in the mood to mince words, Kylie pushed him down into the bed and straddled his back effortlessly in one swift motion.

“Knew those redneck Olympics would have a good use one day.”

“No more talking,” Kylie ordered into his ear, pinning him down with her body weight.

“Yes, ma’am.” If it wasn’t so cute the way he said it so earnestly she might’ve corrected him again.

She started at his shoulders, digging her thumbs into the sore muscles as her hips subtly rolled down onto him, mimicking the way he pleased himself before she stopped him.

Her hands moved lower, exploring the taught muscles flexing under her nails. Kneading his ass through his briefs till he tried to reach a hand into his underwear.

“Now you’re just being a cunt,” Roy huffed when she slapped it away.

She wanted to be generous and let him get off, sure, but not before she could have at least a little bit of fun with him as payback.

“Uh uh,” Kylie tutted. “I’m being a lady, and I’ll take my sweet time if I feel like it.”

Roy dropped his head into the pillow clutched between his fists, a deep annoyed sigh making its way through the fabric.

“What was that?” she asked, tongue in cheek, but he simply repeated the sigh, louder this time.

Kylie could tell by the tight black shirts he wore so often on stage in his Instagram reels that Roy, at the very least, kept an eye on his physique after top surgery.

She’d never seen him this naked or this up close, obviously, but she had to admit; she agreed with Roy on his stance about not doing this sooner.

He’d always been pretty thin but lately his shoulders and back had filled out quite noticeably while his waist and hips stayed as petite as ever, maybe even some new definition in his faint abs if anything.

His tight little ass, however—in his skimpy shorts, she knew it would be irresistible, imagining it as a cute little bubble butt just enough for a fist full each.

Curiosity was getting the better of her and Roy’s sighs had turned to muffled moans by now. She slid off of him and hooked her fingers into his waistband, ready to whip off his underwear in one go till she remembered he had his packer in.

“Can I take this off too?” Kylie gave his underwear’s waistband a little tug, revealing a faint hint of a tan line above his ass crack. She bit her lip, trying to hide how enticing this little detail was to her.

“Yes! For the love of God!”

“Just checking,” she lilted innocently, smiling at his impatience. She yanked off his underwear. “Oh!”

“What?” Roy shot up onto his elbows, looking over his shoulder with panic in his eyes.

“I just knew you’d have the cutest little fanny!” Kylie squealed in delight, grabbing a perfect fistful, just as she anticipated, of each cheek, earning an eye roll from Roy.

At this angle on all fours, ass up with his cheeks and legs spread open, she could see just how practically dripping wet he was.

“Poor honey bun,” she fawned over him, nails running up and down his sticky inner thighs. “You really are such a mess, huh.”

Roy bit into the pillow, refusing to give her the satisfaction she was looking for, but his legs bending to get closer to her fingers said more than any words ever could.

Kylie finally showed some compassion and gave his slit a drawn-out lick, all the way from his dick to his hole.

Roy surprised them both when he let out a loud high pitched whimper, quickly throwing his hand over his face, “Oh my god, I am SO sorry.”

“What was that?” Kylie laughed loudly, she leaned on her side to get a good look at where he was hiding his face in the pillow again.

“I don’t know!” Roy admitted, joining in on the laughter. “Nobody’s tongue’s been that far back in a while! I guess it-it took me by surprise maybe?”

“That’s okay, sugar,” she teased in a low voice against his skin, already hovering over the same spot, ready and waiting. “Do you want me to do it again?”

“Fuck…please,” Roy sighed pushing his hips back against her tongue.

He reached for his dick again, jerking himself off in the same rhythm Kylie’s tongue had set for them. Desperation palpable with every stroke or every time he’d bounce back against her.

Maybe if Roy’s muffled groans weren’t so distracting, either one of them would have heard the front door of her apartment opening.

“Hey, Kylie! Have you seen my blue work shirt?” her roommate shouted, clearly shuffling through the apartment. “I need to switch clothes, but I can’t find it-”

“Fuck!” Kylie jumped off the bed, already throwing on a robe that was sitting on top of a hamper pile nearby.

“What is she doing here?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know, but I’ll be right back,” she whispered, quickly wiping her mouth off with Roy’s discarded crop top.

“Hey, that’s—whatever.” He gave up the fight about his shirt being a makeshift cumrag before he could even start.

While she was dealing with that mess, Roy figured he’d make himself at home. He rolled himself over onto his back and tried to get comfortable, but his erection was by now downright painful.

Just to ease some tension his fingers, lazily slid up and down around his growth till he found a rhythm he liked. Four loud buzzes from his phone on the floor pulled him back to the present. He reached down to pull it from the pocket of his shorts.

Shane J:

Hey

Shane J:

What are you up to?

“Ah fuck,” he sighed. He forgot to say goodbye to Shane before he left and now, clearly bored and/or drunk, he needed some company.

Shane J:

I need you to come over

Shane J:

I’ve got something to show you

He bit his freshly painted nails, debating what he should do or if he should say something since this situation, as fun as it was, seemed to be over.

“She’s gone.”

Maybe not.

Kylie finally came back in before Roy had time to open the messages, her untied robe already on the floor, ready to get straight to business again.

“Great.” Roy shoved the phone behind him like a child who’d been caught with it after bedtime.

“Now,” Kylie purred, climbing over the bed towards him, a huntress on the prowl. She spread his thighs open, threw her left leg over his and with a little repositioning managed to get them pressed together at just the right angle. ��Where were we?”

The pressure of her body weight resting on his dick was electrifying, making his hips inadvertently thrust up against her. Finally, he could let go of that breath he’d been holding in.

“That good, baby?” she asked, leaning down to suck on his bottom lip, their hips grinding together in unison.

“I want to fuck you,” Roy whispered into her mouth, his voice practically hoarse with want.

“Then put it in.” Kylie stilled her hips and leaned back, pulling him with her till their positions were switched. Now with Roy on top and in control.

His eyes flicked between hers trying to work out what she was planning.

“What?” She slipped her fingers into her mouth, pulling them back out with a thick trail of spit. “Do you need a map?”

She took his dick between the top of her slippery index and middle finger, guiding it just a little lower towards her entrance, and he gasped at the contact.

“Fu-uck.” His eyes fluttered closed as she pushed his dick into her. He had to pace his breathing to avoid coming right then and there.

It wasn’t particularly deep, but god what he could manage inside felt fan-fucking-tastic. She was tight and wet and absolutely stunning. Especially when she grabbed his ass and wrapped her legs around his waist, holding him tightly while pushing up against his thrusts.

“You never tried this?” she asked softly, her fingers dancing along his well-sculpted chest and around his scarred nipples.

“Not exactly…” he admitted, looking down between them, slightly embarrassed for not thinking of it sooner. “But better late than never right?”

“Uh-huh,” she nodded, progressively struggling to form words as he fucked her harder, needier.

He could feel the pressure in his stomach building, the possibility of finally getting to come so close, but seeing her fall apart like this a second time was too tempting to pass up. Almost worth edging himself one last time.

His thumb was already rubbing her clit in quick figure eights again in the same way she responded to so well last time, earning louder and more full-throated moans as opposed to her cute little whimpers.

“Oh fuck…” Kylie gasped, throwing her head back onto the bed, her legs trembling as she clung to him for dear life. “Don’t stop…don’t stop…”

He could feel her tensing from deep in her core, every pulse, every flex around his growth pushing him further into oblivion. Unable to process any coherent thoughts. His hips frantically jerked into her even after her limbs went liquid.

“Keep going,” Kylie whispered, her nails deep into Roy’s ass.

“Fuck I’m gonna come!” he growled, gritting his teeth, steadying himself on her shoulders. “Are you-“

“Keep going…” she repeated.

“I’m gonna…I-” He finally came. Unabashedly moaning out any last praises in her name as his whole body ignited, like a high he hadn’t felt before and he wasn’t sure if he could come down from.

His head full of lights and tingling, his body overheated and overstimulated but he knew he needed more, he needed to come again and fast.

“A little more left in you, Sugar?” Kylie asked sweetly, wiping some sweat from his brow.

“Yeah,” he panted, desperately fumbling, struggling to find the right spot he had inside her again after he accidentally slipped out. “I just need to, shit, get this right.”

“Do you need help?”

“Fuck this.”

“C’mere, it’ll be easier,” Roy quickly scooted up to hover over her chest where Kylie waited, resting on her elbows so she’d be the perfect height.

“Jesus…Christ.” He let out another shocked high pitched whimper when her tongue circled his dick. He grabbed her head on either side, guiding it where he wanted her to suck a little harder instead.

“Don’t bother being gentle,” she purred against him, sending delicious shivers straight through his whole body, fogging up his already oxygen deprived mind even more.

“God, where have you been hiding all my life?” he joked in an effort to regain some control, fucking her face till he turned to jelly.

Legs weak, oversensitive and spent, he finally fell back, laying down opposite her; the both of them giggling at the absurdity of the night’s events that lead them here and the scattered bites and bruises they each showed for it.

“Boy, that was a blast wasn’t it?” Kylie was the first to speak, again, patting Roy’s sweat-drenched thigh.

“Fuck,” was all he managed, still a chuckle in his voice. “We should do that again sometime.”

“Yeah, some time…” she lulled, feeling around the bed for where her phone had dropped when they walked in earlier. “I mean, it’s only about midnight now, what time do you have to leave?”

“Seriously?” Roy shot up like an overzealous meerkat, looking at her in disbelief.

“Well?” She shrugged, hooking a leg over his so they were in a perfect scissor position again. “Might need a minute to catch my breath, but you tell me,” she teased, scooting her hips closer so they were touching again.

Both holding onto the other’s hips, they happily melted together again, laying back down to lazily enjoy another round as Roy sighed, “God, I love pride.”

Pride Challenge Points: 7685

#rpdr fanfiction #bianca x kylie #bianca del rio #kylie sonique love #trans character #(s)#t4t #friends to lovers #set during pride #hot witches #smut #imafuckinglibra #fic challenge #weho trans nights #tw pre-bottom surgery trans masc

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b3yondth3m00n · 7 months

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shit, im not one to get personal on here but I am seriously in need of a boy to cuddle with, hold hands with, kiss, snuggle into after a long day at work, a boy that makes my parents mad, a boy that treats me like a puppyslut, but especially, I need a boy who cares for me more than anything (cause I’m needy as hell ❤️)

#trans pride #bottomposting #hornyposting #ftm puppy #puppyboy #ftm bottom #ftm breeding #ftm sub #ftm nsft #trans masc

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nightly-ruse · 2 years

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I have been puzzling over how to represent and show characters sexualities and gender identities in the bands. And finally found it in a spring of inspiration

So the bands have festivals twice a month and meetings four times a month. For festivals when all cats come together those who have found their identity will wear corresponding colors in a certain way to showcase this and “come out” in a way without making it uncomfortable. Here’s how they work:

Sexuality’s are depicted by necklaces which a cat will decorate with specific colors. A cat can have multiple necklaces like a aro necklace and bisexual necklace to show their feelings. This connects to their heart, as it hangs over their chest. Made from feathers, flowers, leaves, painted stones, painted bones, fish scales, or even glass if they are from the Coast.

Gender identity is expressed in a more complex system. A band, bracelet or crown is crafted and positioned in a way that corresponds with how a cat would like to be addressed. A crown on their head represents them wanting to be perceived more feminine, bands on their tails represents them wanting to be perceived more masculine, and bracelets on their legs represents them wanting to be seen as more neutral or androgynous. These bands can have the colors of any identity like trans, non-binary, agender, genderfluid, whatever!

I’ve also decided my cats have hrt bc I can. So those who want to transition can. All remedies were discovered by a few plant focused cats and have been built upon for a long time. I debated a lot on whether I would or not but yknow what? It’s my world I can do whatever I want and I say give them hormones! I just did a few random designs with the system and I really like how they all came out!

#pride cats #give them hrt. Let them have it!!#I might just throw these characters into the world cuz I like them #Lavender is the top left and is trans fem (she/her)#Rocky is the top right and is trans masc (he/grit)#Spitfire is bottom right and is a lesbian (she/her)#And lastly we have Siren who is bottom left and non-binary (they/it)#I really like the system but any criticism or other things to add on are always appreciated #worldbuilding #seasonal festivals #pride

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strawb3rrystar · 2 months

Note

hihi!! i love your writing and i was wondering if you could do a hazbin hotel x male reader who's physically weak? take your time ofc, don't overwork yourself :3 also since the cast is big, could you include the characters vox, valentino, adam, and angel dust? you can do more if you want, but take care of yourself!! i would like headcanons and i don't mind if it's fluff or smut lol thank you so much!

Being a bottom is a mindset.

Pairing: Vox, Valentino, Adam, Angel Dust x Masc! Reader

Warnings: Mentions being babied, forced domestication, manhandling, oral, exhibitionism, impact play, overstimulation, creampie, intoxication

Word count: 794

✰Masterlist

It's not hard to be weaker than Vox, considering he is an Overlord. Vox finds your weakness to be most delightful. He'll use every opportunity to baby you. He'll brush your teeth for you, pick out your outfits, monitor your social media like a child. He'll expect you to do all the cooking and cleaning like a good househusband. It's not like you can do much of anything else anyways, because Vox barely let's you leave the house.

When you do leave the house, it's mostly going to be for a meeting or because Vox wants you in his office. During these meetings Vox will pull you into his lap. His arm firmly wrapped around your waist to keep you there. If he gets bored, which is very often, he'll tease you through your pants, watching you squirm. When Vox wants you in his office, he wants you there for one reason. To give him head. He loves the feeling of trying to work with his cock shoved down your throat. Knowing that anyone could walk in at any moment.

Again, it's not hard to be weaker than Valentino. But he finds it to be most amusing, and takes great pride in the fact that you're weaker than him. He can literally pick you up and throw you over his shoulder. And he does, a lot. Val loves to just pick you up and bring you wherever he goes. He's a major tease. Will tease you both in public and in private. Has to bring you along to every shoot. It's not one without you is his excuse.

He loves to force you face down into the mattress, because then you're even more defenseless than you were before. You shut up real fast when he spanks you. Because you know that if you don't shut up and take it, things will get much worse for you. Val can't resist shoving his cock down your throat. He just loves to see the cute tears that form in your eyes when you gag on it. He'll have you suck him off in the studio, your dressing room, his limo. He'd even have you suck him off during a meeting, if Vox allowed it. Another one of Val's favorite activities is comparing the size of your cocks and then teasing you for letting him.

It's no surprise to Adam that you're weaker than him. In his mind, almost every angel is weaker than him. He'll 100% make fun of you for it, though. Adam will most likely order you around a lot more, because he likes taking advantage of the fact you'll listen to him. Under no circumstances will you be coming to Hell on extermination day, he doesn't want you to get hurt. It may not seem like it, but he does care for you, a lot.

Like Val, Adam is a huge tease, and will tease you anywhere and everywhere. He'll make you sit on his lap all the time. And will pick you up and carry you around. Loves to fist your hair and bring your face closer to him, even in non-sexual scenarios. Adam loves to purposely tease your wings, with the goal to turn you on. But if you do the same to him, you'll be met with the roughest pounding of your afterlife. Will make fun of you when you start to cry from overstimulation, while wiping your tears. Loves to cum inside you and calls it 'breeding' even if you can't get pregnant.

It's actually very surprising to Angel that you're weaker than him. Most of the sinners he knows are very much not weaker than him. He'll try to keep you out of danger as much as he can. Which is no easy task in Hell. Angel will make sure you stay far away from Val at all costs. I can imagine you being a light weight, so Angel will keep an eye on you to make sure you don't over do it. If you do, he'll be an absolute sweetheart to you. He'll bring you out of the club and back to the hotel. Turning down your drunken advances, because he doesn't want to take advantage of you while you're intoxicated.

Angel is the softest dom you will ever meet. As I've mentioned in previous headcanons, he likes to dom with his partner. Will make sure you're having the best time of your life when having sex. He'll have very clear boundaries and a safeword set in place. He loves to press on your stomach and feel his cock inside you. Angel's favorite thing is makeout sessions that turn into passionate sex. He has many arms that he can do many things with. Take that how you will.

Star's notes -> I do not write male reader often, so I hope this is to your liking!

(Thank you, sweet anon, for requesting!) (Requests are open!)

Taglist -> @alexandria-fandom @corruptcoder @perfectlycraftychaos @stressedbleach @ghostdoodlen @roboticsuccubus83 @sugarplumz100 @myamythos @hazbinhappy @mollzaj @sunshines-bright @t0uchst4rv3d | Join the taglist

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l1tw1ck · 10 months

Note

Noncon with bottom!ftm!Miguel O’hara and Villain!Reader is an idea i’ve had in the back of my head for so long. miguel pussy dodgbwwnsoaoua

Sweet Revenge

bottom!ftm Miguel x top!masc!villain reader

AFAB Language Used

this is sorta based off an idea i have for a different miguel fic, we'll see if i ever finish it.. ;;

CW: Non-Con, Overstimulation (Implied?), Creampie

“Looks like you went commando today.” You smirk, running your fingers up Miguel’s cunt. He doesn't know how exactly this happened but he’s currently bent over with his lower half exposed to you. His arms are tied together with an extremely strong rope, he's trying his hardest to break them but to no avail.

“Don't touch me.” He growls.

“I've been waiting for this, you know.” You ignore him, pushing two fingers inside his hole. You push them in and out, humiliating the man due to the pleasure he’s receiving from it. “Waiting for the day I’d finally have you at my mercy. A cute little thing like you shouldn't be out fighting. You should be at home, taking care of the house and being my obedient little slut.” You hit his g-spot. To anybody else, Miguel would never be described as cute nor little but you’re much bigger than he is. In your perspective, he really is little. And very cute.

“Ah!” He moans, cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

“So cute.” You take your fingers out and soon replace them with your cock. Miguel grimaces as he’s forced to take your girth. He can feel himself stretching to fit you.

“You’ll regret this.”

“I don't think so.”

Miguel isn't sure how many times he's come at this point, he got too embarrassed to keep count after the third. He can't help it, the constant stimulation to his clit and the feeling of your thick cock ramming into his pussy feels way too good. He stopped caring about his pride and his role as Spider-Man, he doesn't care what Nueva York’ll do without a hero, he’ll happily allow you to take him back to your place and keep him there if it means he gets to feel like this all the time. “‘M gonna come, baby..” You warn him as your thrusts become uneven. Miguel shivers and looks at you with a dreamy look on his face. “I knew I wouldn't regret this.” You dump your load into him as you make Miguel come one last time.

#wicks🕯️shorts #top male reader #male reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x male reader #sub miguel o'hara #ftm character #afab character #spiderverse smut #spiderverse x male reader #across the spiderverse smut #tw noncon #dark content #🕯️miguel o'hara #🕯️spider man #🕯️marvel

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cocksucker6000 · 2 years

Note

Regarding my ask! Dom reader it is please :3

interrogation heizou x resistance insider reader

dom m reader + sub heizou

cw ;; sir kink (reader receiving), reader is an insider for the resistance, pre-vision hunt decree lift, kind of ooc heizou LOL, all consensual, heizou is kind of a brat

a/n ;; anon requested amab reader with handcuffs + buttplug lawl, thank you so much for requesting!! your struggle to find masc reader fics is something i can relate to more than anything HAJAJ

“i hope you know that i won’t be—ngh…talking…”

the detective managed to protest as you traced your fingers down a vein on his oversensitive and aching cock.

“oh?” you brushed a few strands of messy, auburn hair out of his face. “you really should see yourself, detective.”

you slid your hand along his inner thigh, using two fingers to push in the jeweled adornment in his ass further, and leaning back just to watch him squirm against the restraints on his wrist. “i’d never even thought that you would stoop so low, to be tied up like this and torn for answers. it wouldn’t normally be you in this position, now would it?”

his face flushed even further, turning his head to the side as to not meet your gaze. “y-you’re pathetic, (name)…”

“that’s sir, to you.” you brought a hand back up to cage his cock in your hand.

“t-there’s no way i would call you th—aah!” you gripped harshly for a brief moment.

“do you want to cum?”

the way his dick twitched in your hand was enough of an answer.

“then, first off, be professional. it’s sir.” you leaned down, pressing a kiss to one of his already stimulated and red nipples. “and from then we can work towards equally as professional answers. have you got that, detective?”

“mmhh…”

good enough.

you wrapped your hand back around his cock, giving it a few languid pumps before beginning to focus on his tip. you worked your other hand at the plug in his ass, just hardly moving it to tease him. you’d prepared a bottle of lubricant sitting right beside you two, however, though that really only further added to the detective’s teasing. he sighed in annoyance between the whines that he tried to choke down.

“if you want to get any information, i’m at least going to need more.”

“hmm.”

another harsh squeeze to his cock finally coaxed out a small whimper from his lips.

“i’m not sure. do you really deserve it?”

“hnng-! i’m sure you’ll regret it if you don’t…”

he was finally starting to warm up. you mused in your own pride. “you know what you need to say.”

“p…please, sir?”

“there it is.” a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. the hand that was on his cock soon trailed further between his thighs as you pulled out the plug, coaxing a small whine from his mouth from the loss.

it wasn’t long until you had replaced it with your cock, swallowing a groan as you bottomed out. heizou wasn’t so quiet, on the other hand, letting his head turn to the side with a whimper. you ghosted a hand over the small bulge that had appeared in his stomach, muttering to yourself. “i fill you up so nicely…”

“hhnn-! gods, just—just move already…please…” he cried, eliciting a smirk from your mouth.

“please who?”

“p-please, sir…” he practically spat his words, face burning in shame as a satisfied chuckle left your mouth. your hands trailed from his chest to his hips, eventually latching themselves there with a near bruising grip as you gave him a thrust of your hips.

“good slut.”

#heizou x reader #heizou smut #top male reader #dom male reader #x male reader #male reader smut #heizou x male reader #shikanoin heizou x reader #sub heizou #genshin smut

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miller-n-morgan · 9 days

Text

Take Me Home

PART ONE: TEXAS RED

Arthur Morgan x Gunslinger!Reader

18+, mdni

Summary: From the town of Agua Fria rode a stranger one fine day. Never spoke to folks around him, didn’t have too much to say. No one dared to ask his business, no one dared to make a slip, for the stranger there among them had a big iron on his hip. (Reader is based on Texas Red, from the song Big Iron)

Warnings: reader is female but is disguised as a young male (use of masc pronouns towards reader for this chapter), guns, violence, duelist behavior. Reader is described to have a masculine outer appearance (for show) and is mentioned to have reddish hair (for the sake of the storyline). A fake name is used but otherwise can be read completely as a reader insert.

Word Count: 6.5k

Howdy y’all ! I’m really excited about this story (arthur is my main comfort man) and this is just a story that I’ve been cooking up since I finished the game. This part (and a lot of the story’s future plot) is HEAVILY influenced by the song Big Iron by Marty Robbins and reader even goes by ‘Texas Red.’

“Men learn fast not to poke fun at me,” you told him, partially as a threat, but followed it up quickly. “I s’pose I’d better compose myself around here.” Arthur laughed, genuinely. He seemed to find you amusing, or maybe he found you to be annoying. Either way, you earned these hearty chuckles to enjoy for yourself. “You may be quick with a gun, kid… but just know, that pistol on your hip couldn’t save you from me,” his voice was in a lower register when he said it, and you didn’t know whether you should be intimidated or completely and totally enamored. He wasn’t completely serious, unwilling to scare you away for Dutch’s sake. But he did want you to understand where you stood with him, and you did

The light from the outside window is what wakes you first, the brightness pooling over your closed eyelids before they even open. You’re still in Agua Fria, the place you've made a name for yourself. Charlie Brooks, but that's not the one that comes to mind.

Texas Red. The unkillable. Nothing more than a duelist to many, and even less so to those who don't care for that sort of thing. But to those who dare challenge the big iron on your hip, you are not anything short of a quick handed master. Only eighteen years old, or so they say - it’s what you’ve told them, but like your name, it isn’t true. Whichever way you spell it out, your reputation is the reason people know you; You have the fastest draw on this side of anywhere.

For someone who's known near and far as the kid who never lost a match, the nickname is a little less than favorable. Texas Red isn't for the blood on your hands, it's for the ginger of your hair. It's factual, not demeaning… but still unfavorable. You do not care much what they call you anymore, just as long as they know what comes with it. Too many men have underestimated your ability, one and nineteen more.

Here in Agua Fria there's folks that will come from far and wide, just to test your trigger finger. Today is no different. You've spent the night in a hotel above the saloon, so by the time you reach the bottom of the stairs, you know there ought to be a man there, ready and willing to die.

“That's him.”

You hear from under the breath of the bartender. He served you only last night, one drink of silky whiskey before bed, nothing more. You told him your name, but not the one people know. Word gets around, you suppose. Your pistol has twenty notches on the handle, folks can tell enough from that alone. One of the outlaws that hangs around here does the same thing… except he takes pride in those marks, as opposed to you. You make those marks to remember the weight of your pistol, heavier every time a notch is made.

The man before you is tall and strong, likely a farmer that does heavy work. He has a sly look about him, but you don't feel bothered too much. You think his hands, worn by the sun and weathered by his work - whatever it may be - will not draw fast enough to even graze you. They are too stiff where they hang by his side, probably from pushing a plow, or milling a field.

He hasn't spoken a word to you yet, but that's what you assume. He's here to challenge me, they always are. No one asks after you otherwise… except for maybe some working women, but that never ends well.

“You're the kid?” He looks you over, a furrowed brow and a smirk brush his features, but it doesn't last. Yes, you think. I'm the kid, and this is my gun.

“Yes sir,” your voice is a little lower, the early morning is stuck in the pitch of it.

His question was so vague, but having been asked about eight times out of twenty ‘are you the kid?’ makes you a pretty damn good guesser of what your answer ought to be.

He takes another once over after a step forward, and now you can see that he stands about a head taller than you. He's not quite intimidating, but you can admit, the anxiousness of a man initiating a duel is always a thing that prickles your skin, warms your very fingertips. Maybe that's why you shoot so fast.

“You don't look like a killer,” he looks down, but his nose is somehow still in the air. He wants to prove something, to someone or to himself you can't be sure, but only the most foolish of men dare your gun this way.

“I'm not one.”

And he laughs. You don't even think to look up at him, you keep my face forward. I don't have anything to prove, but of course you know you’ll have to.

“You shoot folks, got a name for it,” he settled his hands on his belt. It's a gun belt, sure, but the rounds don't even match the gun at his hip. They look bigger, as for a rifle. This farmer likely shoots ducks. Sitting or flying, that’s not the relevant point.

He has experience, and that's what clouds his mind. He thinks you’re a sitting duck.

“I do, but I ain't no killer,” you paused, rounding the man, stepping up to the bar and pointing for a glass of water. This early in the morning, any form of alcohol shouldn't be legal. You reckon it's the very thing that made this gentleman bold and eager enough to try what he's about to. At least you’re pretty darn sure that he's about to, otherwise he’s just an adoring spectator. “I shoot folks as need shootin’, but they always ask for it. I ain't malicious or nothin’.”

“Maybe you's the one that needs shootin’.”

Atta boy, getting to the point. You have to smile. He looks confused by it and he very well should be… people don’t normally crack a grin when being threatened.

“S’pose you wanna be the one that does it,” You take a drink of the water you’re handed, but it does little to wash away the tickle in your throat, trying to climb its way up in the form of the chuckle.

“If I gotta be.”

You’ve never seen this man around town. Being here in this area almost two months, you’ve seen more of the traveling recluses than any of the farmers. Seen more of the local outlaws, too. They never stay long, they cause a little trouble here and there… but never the farmers. They come into town maybe once, twice a month. They harbor most of their own supplies on their land. No need for the town.

“And you think you'll hit me?”

“I've never missed.”

And then that chuckle finally does escape you.

“I knew twenty men who hadn't, either,” but the other's words were a bit more out of ignorance. They wanted to show off, thought they had nothing to lose. You were just a skinny kid with red hair and a heavy gun that you could barely stand to carry.

“I like my odds.”

So you turn to the bartender. He watched this same charade last month. A different man, not quite as tall, but just as confident. He stops wiping down an empty glass, and looks to you with a look of annoyance. What did you do to deserve it? You haven't the slightest clue. When he looks at the challenger with sincerity and condolences, you know what he thinks behind those eyes.

This is a fine young man, he may have a wife and some children. He doesn't know what he's doing, he had a strong drink. He only heard one story, it isn't fair.

But of course, you can't back out. You’ve never backed out. Never having anything to lose, and like today, no one has ever tried to convince you otherwise. If you die now, you can go out a hero of sorts, the gunslinger of Agua Fria. If you live, then you'll someday die a legend. Texas Red, the unkillable.

You will have to step outside, and you will have to shoot this man, but for the first time, you feel you oughta know his name. You stepped to meet him and offered your hand. It's smaller compared to his.

“What’s your name?”

“Robert Sims.”

He shakes your hand tightly, he wants to show how strong he is… as if that somehow makes him shoot faster.

“Glad to meet ya. I'm-”

“The infamous Texas Red,” he finished for me, but every time you hear that nickname it somehow gets worse. Why on earth did the good Lord above curse you with something so nasty as ginger hair?

“Infamous? Don't know about that,” you lean back against the bar for another drink of water when your hands drop to your sides. “I'm just a kid. Name's Charlie Brooks.”

He scoffs, his eyes falling to the floor. Maybe he doesn't wanna do this. He seems to be rolling it over in his head. If he wins he kills you, a scrawny kid with an ugly hat, and not a friend in the world. If he loses, well… he dies.

But as if foolishness ruled his mind, he settles on his thoughts, and you can see it clear as day when he decides.

“Are you ready to step outside?”

And you smile again. He could've been your friend. He seems like a kind enough man, a little arrogant, but a man of honor in himself. He even struck you with a slanted smile of his own, but for no reason other than your reputation alone, he wants to kill you. Always a shame.

“S'pose so.”

And he doesn't say another word… Ever.

Thirty paces apart on the dirt road outside, the poor man never even cleared leather, but a bullet rests between his collarbones, and he himself rests on the ground. He’s got a pouch on his hip you noticed earlier, so while everyone around is frozen in place, you carefully go up to his body, stripping the valuables from him before moving on your way. To the winner go the spoils.

You holster your weapon, turn around and face the folks that stopped their journeys to watch. Some had seen the last one, they expected the outcome. Others were a bit surprised. David beat Goliath. The bigger opponent fell.

You took a walk around the block to settle down, find a nail to notch your pistol yet again. You’ve never forgotten your earlier opponents, but something about this one makes you sadder than the rest. One and Twenty more, and whoever else is stupid enough to have the same idea.

Once you feel at rest you land back in the saloon, but it's not as empty as before, your single friend Robert Sims being the occupant. Now there are three men. There is a tall dark haired man with a mustache and a bowler hat, a darker skinned man beside him against the bar, and a young man that looked all too similar to yourself in complexion and hair color. It was nice to know that you weren’t the only one God would curse that way.

You don't plan on letting yourself be bothered, so you sit down one stool over, beckoning a whiskey you can shoot to chase the adrenaline. You thought you had calmed down, but sitting here it feels as though you’re in the middle of a footrace, with the speed accelerating instead of decreasing.

“Charlie Brooks?” The tall man with the mustache was the first to speak, and directly to you.

These men have guns on their hips, and you hope they are not thinking what the last man thought. You’ve barely calmed down enough from Robert Sims, and your head would hurt having to shoot twice in one day.

“Yes,” your confusion forced through.

“I'd like to talk with you. This man here tells me you're quite the gunslinger,” he gestures to the bartender and you give him a glance, seemingly just doing his job minding his business when he's not running his mouth about you.

“He told ya? Or were you outside?”

The man had a laugh that seemed comforting almost. It was hearty and full of actual joy. He pat you on the back and you had half a mind to turn away from it for a moment, unsure of why he was so friendly or if you appreciated it yet. It’s been a while since you felt the comforting or friendly touch of someone who didn’t later try and shoot you.

“I did in fact see your show of skill, but I wasn't sure if approaching you after a fiasco like that would end up poorly for me.”

And so you smile, because his sense of humor is alike yours, and he looks to be unphased by your violent acts of earlier. You technically didn’t break any laws. Didn’t do anything wrong, even by killing a man. He had threatened to shoot your first, if no one claims they saw the duel, you can write it off as self defense… but this man doesn’t seem too deterred. In fact, he looks all too happy having witnessed your properly provoked quick draw.

“I ain't jumpy, if that's what you're worried about.”

But he had a different point on his mind, so the subject was changed in an instant.

“Look, son. I'm gonna cut to the chase,” he pointed at your pistol, the newest twenty-one mark shining where it peaked out of your holster. “You have a gift for using that. I could use some talent like yours.”

And suddenly you’re confused again. Who is this guy? What does he want?

“I ain't a bounty hunter, sir.”

“I can very well see that. I'm not looking for a temporary gun, kid. I need someone long term.”

And suddenly your interest is piqued. The other men haven't said a word, and yet they seem to be a part of this offer, whatever it is. They are fully invested in your answer, on the edge of their seat - metaphorically, since they’ve been standing - while waiting. It’s strange, as if it’s all been plotted.

“Not sure I quite understand,” You slide the empty glass back after taking the second shot of whiskey, but hold your hand over the top, keeping the bartender from refilling a third.

“If you'd be so kind as to follow me and my friends, I would be happy to explain in further detail,” he steps away from the bar, his hand outstretched to the door. This situation reads danger in every which way, but you don't stray from it. You can’t believe you’re doing it, but you follow along, an open mind.

Nothing to lose.

Your horse was in the stables, an older stallion that was probably bred from war. His coat was full and black, like a starless night sky. Fury, you called him. These other men had put their horses up in the stables as well, but they were quite a bit stranger when it came to interacting with the horse hand. They paid him off so he’d forget any of you had been here.

These men must be outlaws. Dutch, Charles, and Sean… From the time of their introductions, you were watching them with vigilance. You had started to gather that much from the way people ran inside when they passed, but the other behaviors lead you to believe that they weren’t the typical type. They weren’t just bad men looking for trouble and fun. They had reasoning, and they had qualms about who they spoke to about what. They were careful, if that word can even describe an outlaw.

You followed them out of town, and down a road a bit. Agua Fria was a bit drier than other parts of Texas, but it had some nice trees here and there, with ponds and hills to break up the dusty roads. When you came to a clearing, a full on campsite set up, you immediately looked around, taking in who you thought would be the most imminent threats.

“Right over here,” Dutch said, dismounting his horse and leading it to a hitching post. You followed him and the others, and the redhead, Sean, took your horse off your hands.

“Thanks,” you mumbled.

“This is the camp, ain’t much to look at but we’re all very tight knit, here.”

You followed behind Dutch, he was the ringleader of all of this, as far as you could tell. He gave the orders, and the others followed. You couldn’t say you didn’t see why. He had all the capabilities of a natural born leader. His presence, his personable way with words, and even his ability to convince a random stranger to follow him.

“S’cozy,” you said, nodding to each person you passed. He didn’t bother introducing you to them yet, and you figure it’s because he wants to see how well you fit first. No point in getting anyone attached.

“It is indeed. I’ll have you wait here for just a moment, you can mingle, if you’d like. I’m gonna talk to a few friends of mine,” he told you before ducking into a tent, the flaps falling behind him.

You huffed a breath, turning to the first face you saw and tipping your hat.

“Howdy, Ma’am.”

The young woman looked up to you, a sweet smile on her face. She had lovely dark hair and beautiful blue eyes that reflected a clear sky.

From within the tent, tensions were a bit higher.

“First Mack and Davey, now this… kid? You can’t keep picking up people like they’re stray dogs, Dutch…” Hosea Matthews, Dutch’s right hand man was the one to speak first. He’d just heard quite a story - which to be fair, Dutch liked telling grand stories - that seemed to be impossible.

“I know, I know… but you wouldn’t believe it even if you saw it. Hell, even I don’t.”

“Let me get this straight,” another voice piped up from the corner, standing to make his presence more known. “This eighteen year old kid, who can barely hold up a gun… is the fastest draw you’ve ever seen?”

“I blinked and the man was dead,” Dutch furthered his point, hearing a low whistle from the youngest man in the tent. They began to peak through the open tent flaps, not letting anyone else see them.

“Abigail seems to like him.”

“Abigail likes everyone except John these days,” Hosea joked around, sitting himself back down when he’d taken his look at the kid. He was a spry little thing, but looked like a boy still in adolescence.

“Listen,” Dutch began, his hands raised to calm the air. “This kid could mean the difference between life or death in some of our upcoming jobs.”

The younger man looked to Dutch, then to Hosea, and then to the ground, shaking his head. Dutch was like his father, but these fantasies he conjured up sometimes to justify his antics could be wild.

“He can shoot faster than me?”

“My boy, I’d let you challenge him yourself if I wasn’t sure he’d drop you where you stand.” Dutch clapped a hand on his shoulder before turning to Hosea.

“If he’s really as fast as you say, we should keep him. He can’t be of any harm otherwise.”

A moment lasted longer than you thought it would, but you’d garnered the attention of not one but two ladies whilst sitting in the shade of the trees.

Abigail, the heavily pregnant young woman you’d started conversation with, and Tilly, a young lady who seemed to be swooning with every word you said. You didn’t have the heart to say nothing to her, you weren’t even sure you’d be sticking around.

“And then what happened?” Tilly asked, scooting closer.

“Well, I guess I shot him. S’how most these stories end, sadly.”

You suddenly felt a bit sorrowful. You’d shot a man down only today and here you’d moved on so quickly. The time of self recovery was getting shorter and shorter. Maybe you ought to stop shooting folks, then you could make some ground on a normal life… but that’s never really been your way, not since you left home. If you stay with this gang, though… the shooting gets worse, and you know that for a fact.

“But you’re a good shot, probably why Dutch wants ya,” Abigail lifted a brow, nodding towards the tent. You were sure he’d liked you well enough, and you liked this whole tight knit unit well enough. If you shoot enough folk, you reckon you get to stay.

“Speak of the Devil,” Tilly smiled behind where you were standing, and you took it as a queue to turn around yourself.

“We sure as hell want him,” Dutch said, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “I have some people I want you to meet. This is my partner, Hosea Matthews.”

And the man - Hosea - smiled and waved. He seemed nice, and gentlemanly. He had a kind face, like that of a dedicated father.

“And this,” Dutch stood aside, revealing another man stood behind him… “Is Arthur Morgan. My enforcer, and right hand man.”

You froze when he lifted his head, hat tipping upward enough to see his face. Your breath hitched in your throat as you scanned his features, falling to the stretch of his body and then roaming back up to the brim of his hat. You weren’t sure if it was from fear or from awe, but the tenseness in your body was thick and unwavering. He had all the toughness of a rugged outlaw, but his eyes were calm, serene. Like pools of oasis water against a dry and scorching desert. A beautiful man by anyone’s standard, but completely unaware of himself.

Standing before you now, he nodded in greeting, and you had to snap out of the haze that even now surrounded you, clouding your mind and blocking out anything that wasn’t him.

Sweet Lord above, help me look away… and finally you did, begrudgingly.

“He’s gonna show you around, give you the rundown of how things are around here,”

“Sounds-” you coughed once, trying to play off your strange behavior as you cleared your throat. “Sounds just fine.”

“Alright then,” Dutch leaned in towards Arthur at the last second, nudging his arm as he did. “Don’t test ‘im before he’s had a chance to settle. I don’t feel like losing two fast guns on the same day.”

You heard the tail end of the conversation, but pretended it passed over your head. You were standing quietly, still halfway in awe of the man. Sandy strands of hair that fell over the corners of his eyes, his strong jawline stubbled in the same lovely color. He let his hat fall over his eyes again, but you were certain if you’d been able to see them again, you’d not be able to look away.

He fell into a slow walk beside you, beginning to lead through the campsite.

“What’s your name, kid?”

Kid, as if you were actually one…

“Charlie Brooks, sir,” You replied, holding a firm hand out. This was reflectant of a similar introduction you’d made earlier this morning. Didn’t matter what happened though, you wouldn’t be shooting the man before you. Not even if he begged.

“Dutch says they call you Red.”

You dropped your pleasant expression, huffing a fast breath to match the new look on your face.

“Texas Red… But I ain’t even from Texas, so,” and it was true. You’d only earned that nickname here.

“The red part still fits,” Arthur was teasing you. Perhaps this is what Dutch meant by ‘don’t test him.’

You sighed, realizing that you’d found the downside to this ruggedly handsome stranger… “My name is Charlie Brooks.”

Arthur laughs, shaking his head. “Don’t get upset, boy… I’m only poking fun.”

You drop the tension in your shoulders… you didn’t like being teased, but perhaps it wasn’t as bad coming from this Arthur character.

“Men learn fast not to poke fun at me,” you told him, partially as a threat, but followed it up quickly. “I s’pose I’d better compose myself around here.”

Arthur laughed, genuinely. He seemed to find you amusing, or maybe he found you to be annoying. Either way, you earned these hearty chuckles to enjoy for yourself.

“You may be quick with a gun, kid… but just know, that pistol on your hip couldn’t save you from me,” his voice was in a lower register when he said it, and you didn’t know whether you should be intimidated or completely and totally enamored. He wasn’t completely serious, unwilling to scare you away for Dutch’s sake. But he did want you to understand where you stood with him, and you did.

You only nodded, and kept walking.

He had shown you the laundry areas, where the girls nearly strip the boys down just so they have something to do in the daytime. He showed you to Mr. Pearson’s ‘kitchen,’ if you could even call it that. He showed you where the weapons are kept, but not where to refill them. He isn’t sure if he’s supposed to yet. You take in every word he says, committing it to memory, not only so you can fit in around here, but also so you can recall the sound of his voice on a whim.

He shows you down to the sloped rim of the pond, where usually one at the time, members of the camp come to bathe in their spare hours. You wondered how far down the way you would have to bathe, just on the off chance someone might come and see.

“Bill takes care of the horses, mostly. I’m sure he’ll add yours to his rounds if you ask ‘im,” he mentioned, walking back past the horse rails and troughs. Your horse was standing happily in the sunshine, enjoying the blue skies and grass compared to the dusty and dark stables you always put him up in.

“I’ll remember that,” you say, as if you’ll forget anything else. So far you remember everyone’s name - everyone you passed by, at least - and every individual location of the camp.

“Miss Grimshaw and the others should have a tent for ya by sundown… if not, just bunk with me until tomorrow,” he offered, hands sat steadily on his gun belt. Your face flushed, but lucky for you, he was much taller and couldn’t see under the brim of your hat when you tilted your head.

“That’s kind of you,” you nodded in reply, saying nothing more.

He began to back away, needing to attend to something else, but he stopped short.

“You’re alright, kid,” he complimented, as best as he could give one, anyway. “See you ‘round.”

And you stood still, watching him walk away with your hands at your sides.

“I’m in deep shit…”

Early to bed, early to rise, yatta yatta yatta. You still hate mornings. The camp wakes at the crack of dawn, and you stir just as some folks are leaving, mounting their horses and setting off for the adventures ahead. You’re fairly certain it’s Dutch, Bill, and that other man Hosea, the one with the kind face.

You did end up taking Arthur up on his offer to bunk for the night. He was kind enough to set up one of the spare cots for you, unwilling to argue about sleeping on the ground and all that. He pegged you for the arguing type and wanted to leave well enough alone.

He was gone from the tent-like structure by the wagon, away somewhere probably having a cup of that coffee you smelled. They must have had a pot brewing somewhere, because it was the only thing willing you to leave the shaded area you were resting. The sun wasn’t high in the sky, but you could already feel the effects of the heat swirling in around the camp.

It was strange, going about your morning routine with others present. Washing up your face in one of the water barrels, raking your hair back over your head with your wet fingers to let the hair sit flat before you crushed it down with your hat. You’d been nearly presentable, good enough for the morning, anyway.

It wasn’t long before you were sitting close to the congregated group, a cup of coffee in your own hands. It wasn’t the best you’ve had, but hey, it helped you keep your eyes open. You didn’t dare interject into the conversation, unknowing of it they would accept it. Not that it mattered, because you liked hearing them interact as is. They were a rowdy bunch, but they had some wit here and there.

After a while, you zoned out during talks of events you hadn’t been to, people you hadn’t met, things you didn’t get to see before coming here. You watched a bunny that leapt across the camp, running into the wilderness ahead only to disappear behind some rocks. You realized by then you were at the end of your coffee cup. You stood up to take it back to Mr. Pearson, but were interrupted by one of the others in the circle. You remember his name is John.

“How about you, Brooks?” He asked, catching you off guard, for you had absolutely no clue what the conversation was.

“How about me?” you replied, a furrowed brow as you stopped in your tracks and waited.

“Are you really as fast as people say?”

You scoffed, a slanted eyebrow to the man when he seemed in disbelief. You don’t blame him, he’s never seen you shoot.

“Faster.”

“Boy’s got some pride on ‘im. Shouldn’t be too hard to break it down,” the only other redhead in the gang reared his accented voice. “Ay, Arthur?”

You turned to the man, stoic and quiet, his hat covering most of his face so you couldn’t see what his features were saying.

“If Dutch says he’s faster than me, I won’t push my luck.”

Except for he wanted to. He really wanted to, and you were curious to see his skill as well. Maybe not against you, because hell… you ain’t never lost before but there’s a first time for everything, and you like it here too much to throw it away.

“I don’t buy it. That’s just Dutch telling tales like he does,” John stood up and clapped his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Never in my life have I seen someone with Arthur’s shootin’ speed.”

“Never?”

You knew it was probably not in your best interest to boast your ability on the first day, but shit, it was the only thing you had going for you. You had to make way in this group somehow.

“Never.”

“Alright,” you nodded. “I propose a game. Two bullets, our names carved in. We set up a can to shoot and whoever’s bullet gets trapped inside s’the one that got there first.”

Arthur lifted his head, and for the first time this morning, you saw his eyes. Your face instantly got red, but no one seemed to notice, too caught up in the heat of the exchange.

He nodded once, a slow and decisive nod. He was thinking it over.

“Sure,” he said, his thick accent coating the word. “Guess I’ll play along.”

And the group dispersed, grabbing everything needed. Arthur took it upon himself to carve the bullets, and strangely, you trusted him not to tamper with yours. He didn’t seem like the type to play dirty. He didn’t look like he needed to be.

Sean set up the can on a log, a crudely drawn X out of charcoal on the rusty front of it. There were words being exchanged as you both stepped up, opening your guns to drop out all the bullets before Arthur handed yours over. His etching wasn’t too bad, but you dropped the smug look on your face when you saw what he actually put on it.

“I told you my name’s not Red,” you huffed, taking it anyway and dropping it into the cylinder, giving it a quick spin to line it up.

“Doesn’t matter, no one’s gonna see it but you,” he teased, loading his own gun and standing beside you, about five yards away from the can.

“Need me to count?” you joked back, hopefully not in vain. You wouldn’t be pridefully wounded if you lost in all honesty. You’d been waiting for your talent to fail you for a long time now, and without any stakes on the table, you suppose today could be the day.

Both guns now strapped to your hips, you waited in silence, and so did everyone else. It wasn’t something that needed cheering on, but it was definitely something to be on the edge of your seat for.

You saw Arthur drop his hand out of the corner of your eye, so you cleared leather as fast as you could in hopes that your shot would land, and it did… or at least, you thought it did. The can went flying and both guns had been fired.

“Who won?” John yelled over in question to Sean, who went to kneel down by the log, picking up the can.

“Uh…” He held up the can, showing two bullet holes, before dumping out both bullets from the inside. “Both of em’.”

And for the first time in any shoot out you’d ever participated in, you were too stunned to speak. You never doubted this man’s abilities as a talented gunslinger, but given you’d never seen him shoot, and knowing your own track record… it was surprising to see.

“Well,” Arthur turned to you, as the others continued to chat amongst themselves, not sure how to split the bets they had made beforehand. “You beat me.”

He offered his hand to you to shake, but you shook you head, you didn’t understand.

“It’s a draw, both bullets hit,” you tried to reason, but he was set on his own explanation.

“You hit first. Mine went through the top as it was fallin’.”

You shook his hand anyway, but froze in place when he spoke. Could he really tell? Was he that detail oriented when shooting? You’d never known much of your craft, just that you could do it, just that you’d practiced a bunch and got pretty damn good… but you didn’t even think to make that observation.

“That don’t count,” you tried to absolve him, still feeling as though from what he said alone, he was the better gunslinger. “I’ve never said this before… but I would not duel you, Arthur Morgan. You’ve scared me somethin’ awful with that gun.”

He had a chuckle in his exhale as he let it fall from his lips, a nod and the drop of your handshake. “Guess we both met our match today.”

“I’d say so.”

The day was slow. When Dutch and Hosea and Bill returned in the evening, there was some wind of a job coming up, the first one you’d inevitably be invited to. It was discussed quickly and not in great detail, and the heads of the camp still had some ideas churning about it. Hopefully you’d be able to keep up in the heat of the moment, as you’d never done anything like this before. Never robbed folk - alive folk, at least - or taken something as a means to survive. You’ve lived off of bets and fools you shot dead. It was a lousy way to live but it had never gotten as low as stealing or cold blooded murder.

The thoughts turned over in your head and for some reason you couldn’t seem to lose them, but at the end of the night they were momentarily stalled when Arthur helped you carry the already assembled cot into your new tent. It was simple, just a double sided narrow-pitched tent, no room inside for anything but a cot and a single human. You could just kick your boots under the cot when you slept, that would be the extent of your storage space. At least it had the privacy of the two flaps at the front, current parted like curtains to allow entrance.

Once everything was set up, Arthur took a step back, but didn’t leave yet.

“Thank you, Arthur. I’ll owe you one,” you promised, trying to be as casual about his genuine help and concern over you the past day. No one had ever shown this much attentiveness to you, and though you know he’s only acting on orders from Dutch, it feels like he really cares. He’s kind and he’s gentle, despite his rugged appearance and reputation.

“S’no problem,” he scratched the back of his neck, looking from side to side to make sure everyone had either retired for the night or was too occupied to listen in. “I wanted to tell you something.”

You furrowed your brow, crossing your arms.

He sighed and met your eyes again, debating his words in his head. Out with it already…

“I know you’re a lady,” he tried to speak evenly, but the tail end of his sentence got caught.

Your eyes widened before he even finished his sentence. You looked around as well before shoving him inside your tent, too small for one person let alone two.

“You don’t know anything,” you assured him, suddenly self conscious of how he perceived you. What was it? Your voice? The way you walked? Your body? Was anybody else going to notice?

“I wasn’t pryin’, I swear,” he said, reaching into his satchel, still on his hip after a long day. “Bill left early this morning, I took care of your horse. These fell out of your saddlebag…”

He held out to you the most damning piece of evidence there could possibly be. Long cotton wraps and a sanitary apron, the brand new woolen padding you’d gotten was pressed inside and ready.

Shit. You didn’t even think twice about hiding the contents of your saddle bag when arriving here. No one had ever been kind enough to care for your horse, so you didn’t worry.

You looked into his eyes, firm but not judgemental. When you looked at him just a second too long they turned to a silent fear. Like he was a child getting caught stealing sweets.

“Don’t tell Dutch,” you begged, and he huffed a sigh, unsure of what to do.

“I can’t lie to im’,” he shook his head, shrugging his shoulders. You were new, this wasn’t just about loyalty, it was about hierarchy. You, the new soldier, could not dare ask the second in command to deprive his leader of the truth.

“I’m not asking you to. Just don’t tell him, yet. I’ll think of a way to let him know…”

You knew it was a stretch, but he was wonderful with the women of the camp, a man of high honor among the ladies. Surely he would help you, just until you were ready to share your secret.

“We’re different, y’know? If you’ve been hidin’ all this time out there, that’s one thing… but you ain’t gotta do that here.”

“I don’t want them to look at me differently…” you trailed, silently pleading with him.

He nodded, the look in your eyes nearly breaking his heart. There’s a story within you, but he’ll wait to hear it. For now, he just complies, hearing your voice at it’s softest point, the feminine silkiness flowing through. You only ever spoke to yourself like that anymore.

“Okay,” he placed a warm hand on your shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze, before maneuvering out of your small tent. “Just until you tell ‘im yourself, ya hear?”

You nodded in understanding, a thankful and sweet smile dining your features. “Goodnight, Arthur.”

“G’night, Red…”

tags are open

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x original female character #arthur morgan x you

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gh0vtzb1og · 26 days

Note

I have many thoughts about ghost or price coming back from a long mission and being a sub to reader cause they're too tired.. :3 specifically masc

Rockin’ horse. Bottom price / JOHN PRICE X MALE READER

You ask and I deliver.

(I didn’t know if you meant submissive top, so your getting submissive bottom price)

Notes; fingering, teasing, anal sex, degradin, jerking off, blow job.

(The whole time I’m writing this I’m thinking of ‘exit only’ boxers, LMAO)

Price leaned up against the doorway of your shared bedroom, his lips parted ever so slightly, his look was a beat up and exhausted one. He didn’t say anything to you, just stared in silence, waiting for you to speak.

“Long day at work eh?” You shifted against the bed, sitting in your boxers. Prices eyes shifted to your boxers.

“Very,” he murmured, creeping onto the floorboards without a word. He crawled onto the bed, the worn down look in his eyes as his met yours. He crawled on top of you now, the slightly bigger man looking down at you.

You weren’t gonna take this though. Quickly wrapping your leg around the back of his knee and pushing him onto his back. You grab his legs, pinning them to either side of his body, soft snaps of his bones being stretched out into a new way.

You had jerked him off in a dominant manner, but never this far. Hid jaw hung open as he laid there pinned. “Bloody hell. This what you’ve been, plannin’?” He gripped the bedsheets, his knuckles turning a white shade as he waited for your next move.

You move one hand down to undo his belt which kept his jeans clinging to him. as if they didn’t already compliment his lower half. You undid his jeans, moving your hands to his boxers. Using your palm to rub it against his ass. The captains eyes were filled with frustration, he couldn’t move to take a more dominant role. Now you were both in your boxers, slipping the captains off.

He was erect against his stomach, his cock leaking pre cum as you used two of your fingers inside him. Gently rubbing his inner walls and trying to find his prostate.

“Goddamnitt, I’m so gonna ruin you later boy.” He threatened. Groans and moans leaving his throat as you work on his ass. Your fingers neatly scissoring him and thrusting out of him. He growled softly and bit his cheek as he stared at you, a quiet pant leaving his lips as he tried to keep quiet. Not wanting to give you the satisfaction of him getting pleasure from your acts.

“Shh. You’re just so upset aren’t you price. A captain in the military getting fingered on his own bed, how pathetic.” You kiss his bearded chin. You pulled your boxers down. Staring at your older boyfriend, his cock red and angry. Desperate for relief from his rough day.

He gripped the bed harder, feelin you pull your fingers away and pushing your tip against his entrance. “Just a damn slag. Can Mr old man not fight against me? Is he gonna get fucked hm?” You sneer into his ear. Watching his jaw tighten as he glares at you.

With a quick thrust of your hips you were halfway in him. Listening to the older male groan out in pleasure. Gritting his teeth to his best advantage, drool was seeping out from his lips as you move your hips once more, slamming your cock fully into the other man. You wrapped your right hand around his cock, quickly moving it. You ran your thumb over his tip, playing with his slit.

“Fuck! Cmon darlin you don’t gotta I didn’t mean it. Just quit now and I won’t do anything to ya.” He pleaded, trying to hide his moans as you pound into him. Fucking him with everything you’ve got, long gravely moans left his throat, watching as he tilted his head back.

You push his legs by his head, pinning them there. Price was letting out heavenly groans and moans. All because of you, a feeling of pride filled you as you used your position to rub right against his prostate.

“Fuck lad! Cmon you don’t gotta, fuck!” He groaned out to the thick, hot air that wrapped around you both. Feeling his cock throb into your touch before a warm spurt of cum left it, hitting his stomach and dribbling onto his body, his cock throbbed for a few seconds more.

You had got the best of him. Pulling out and letting a low chuckle leave your own mouth.

“Not so hard hmm, though I’m still hard, suppose you can’t help can ya.” You tsk, watching his hazy eyes go to your cock. He moved over, grabbing onto your hips and letting his lips wrap around your cock, his beard tickling your skin. A quiet groan left you as he tasted himself on your cock.

Choking on it. You ran your hand through his hair, watching his teary eyes as he tried to take your cock. He’d certainly get you back for this.

I really hope this doesn’t look as bad as I see it bro. I can’t tell if my writing is boring (lmk how I can improve)

#cod x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty #captain john price #captain price #john price #price call of duty #price x reader #smut writing #writers on tumblr #cod modern warfare #call of duty headcanons #male reader #fanfic

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