#shirtless COLT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mochimooon · 5 months

Text

DTF Only (Tinder Wh*re) - eren jaeger x reader 18+

pairing: Eren Jaeger x afab! Reader summary: On a six-day Tinder streak, you don't plan to stop for Friday night. Especially when Eren invites you out for a drink. word count: 4500+ notes: Part 7 of DTF Only. Aight, first time writing fanon! Eren. Ya'll know what to expect here. As always indented text refers to reader's messages. warnings: smut, explicit content, explicit language, oral sex (f! receiving), exhibitionism, semi-public sex, degradation, alcohol consumption, toxic power-play, name-calling, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex ☻ masterpost☻

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+ !!

Pieck’s message lights up your phone.

Another one???

You’ve outdone yourself. Six dates in a row and your streak continues tonight.

The latest match, Eren invited you for a round of drinks. Simple and low-key.

As far as appearance goes, you’re mesmerized. His striking features had you scrolling through both his profile and Instagram (included in his bio). Green eyes, tan skin, dark brown hair that fell just shy of his shoulders, styled mostly in a haphazard bun. Not to mention the number of shirtless selfies, it’s obvious: he knows he’s hot.

Arrogance isn’t usually your flavor, but glimpses of a tongue ring challenge you to expand your palate.

He’s such a WHORE!! You can just tell

Yep. Whore-vibes. And that tongue ring…😛

lol, freak. I’m so proud of you. One week and you’re already thinking Colt who?

You laugh at that, albeit it’s a hollow one. A week later and you’re still not sure how to feel, and a part of you is concerned some untapped feelings will catch up to you later.

Despite the fun you’ve had on these dates, Colt has creeped into your mind a few times, mainly because he’s the last person you were with. However, thoughts of him don’t linger long enough by the time you’re getting busy with your Tinder matches.

Still, you do wonder what he’s up to.

Is he on Tinder too in his city? If so, you don’t feel anything strongly about that.

Just then, you get a new text message.

Heading out now See you there ;)

Much like the other guys, you and Eren had exchanged personal numbers. You had no problem with it, preferring it that way you could call them if you had to, and vice versa.

Almost ready 😊 Be there soon

…

It’s easy to find Eren at the bar. You might be pushing your luck, but you’re grateful that every guy you’ve matched with looks like their pictures (and even better in person).

He’s snagged a table near the bar, a negroni, barely touched, indicating that he hasn’t been waiting long. As you approach, you take this opportunity to assess him, and your face warms the closer you get to the table.

He’s…attractive, almost painfully so. An effortless kind of swagger in the way he sits on the chair, elbow bent over the edge, a hand stretched out on the table, tapping his fingers. You’re surprised that he’s not mobbed by a flood of men and women right now.

Walking past the bouncer, green eyes zero in on you, lighting up like a radar.

Eren gets to his feet, gliding forth to say your name in a smooth low tone. “Hey there, pretty girl.”

You shiver from the toned muscle you’re pressed against. “Hi, Eren, nice to meet you.”

“I opened up a tab,” he says as he returns to his seat. “Someone will come over and you can place an order.” As he speaks, you’re given the first glimpse of that tongue ring.

You force yourself to look away to keep from drooling over it. “Cool, thank you. I didn’t keep you waiting long, did I?”

“Nah. Barely placed this order.” He points to the negroni. “You’re good.”

A waitress comes by in a second to take your drink order.

“A tab’s open already,” Eren tells her. “Under Jaeger.”

You pause, mind reeling from the name. You wave it off. “Is this your go-to spot?"

Eren finishes a sip, nodding. “Yeah, my friend used to bartend here after college, and he always had the hook-ups. He doesn’t work here anymore, so the perks are gone, but it’s still a nice place to grab drinks.”

Your drink arrives a few minutes later, as you tell Eren about your week, omitting your previous Tinder escapades. He nods and hums to acknowledge that he’s listening, but his eyes are in deep thought, wandering from your face to your lips, down your neck with an indifferent expression.

When you pause to have more of your cocktail, a smirk ghosts Eren’s lips.

“So...let’s hear about this ex-boyfriend.”

You raise a brow, taken aback. Not once did you mention Colt, so you’re at a loss as to why Eren would dig for that sort of detail.

Confused and a little peeved, you say, “That’s an awkward thing to ask about on a first date.”

“I have a sixth sense.” Eren doesn’t parse his words. “Most women on Tinder are fresh out of a breakup and want to get under someone to forget them.” He shrugs. “Not judging at all. I’m more than happy to offer my service.”

Your brows knit together, unsure of what to do think of that. “Sounds like a hot take. I’m not going to talk about past relationships. It’s boring.”

This yields the opposite reaction you wanted from Eren. Because instead of dropping it, he leans closer, brow arched, ears peeled ready for gossip. “He was boring? How so?”

You purse your lips, averting his question. “What about you? On Tinder for a rebound hook up?”

The whore laughs, hearty and patronizing. “I’m not on the rebound.”

“So, you’re telling me every date you’ve gone on so far was to serve as someone’s rebound?”

He shrugs again, unfazed. “Maybe not every date, but most. Again, no shade, just curious to know. I feel like I’m right though.”

Is that what you’re doing? Rebound fucks? You don’t see it that way.

Sounds like he's just nosy. What he plans to do with any information you share about Colt, you’re not sure. But then Ymir’s voice rattles in your head from a phone conversation you had with her earlier that day.

You had just sent her screenshots of Eren’s profile.

“Hoodrat for sure. I’d be careful, though.”

“Why? If all he wants is sex, who cares?” you had said.

“I know you’re not interested in him like that,” Ymir continued. “What I mean is that a guy like Eren has a big ego. Game-playing, all that. Knowing you, that might get on your nerves before you get a chance to get naked with him.”

“Meaning?”

Ymir chuckled. “Meaning you’ve got an ego too.”

You wonder then if that’s why Eren’s so interested in knowing about your past relationship. Perhaps, it is a show of ego, a way for him to measure up or out-measure someone you’ve already been with.

You busy yourself with your cocktail as Eren takes a long gulp of his negroni, green eyes flitting back to the bar. While you try to get to a better read on him, you’re unable to concentrate.

Your mind spins in circles, moving and bobbing like his Adam’s apple. He’s leaning against the barstool, in the same careless swagger. Ego or not, you hate to admit that he has every right to be full of himself.

Setting the glass down, Eren’s tongue falls out in a satiated sigh. You’re not discreet and Eren catches that. He grins, tongue swiping along his bottom lip. The metal stud sways like a pendulum.

Your jaw slowly loosens, hooded eyes zeroed in on the piercing.

“You like that?” Eren moves his tongue in a way that prods the stud out further.

Oh, you like it a lot. Eren hadn’t displayed it fully on his profile, but a few pics of him laughing, you swear you caught the shine of metal in his mouth.

Recollecting your wits, you say, “Tell me about that piercing. Does it hurt?”

Eren shrugs, tapping a few fingers along the table. “Never had any complaints.”

A rush of heat soaks through your skin. You swallow, like a cat fixated on a shiny object. “I meant getting it pierced.”

He shakes his head, grin widening. “Just a little pressure when they stick it in.” This man is so shameless… “Pain is an afterthought.”

You can’t help it, your mind falls back into the gutter, deep into a rabbit hole, curious to know what a tongue like that could do between your legs.

“I’m guessing your ex-boyfriend didn’t have a tongue piercing either?”

You deflate, irritation pricking the fantasy. “Let’s change the subject.”

“Still hurting from it?” Upon first impression, you didn’t expect Eren to channel anything other than arrogance. His softer tone is a sudden switch that you don’t realize has chipped away at your resilience to veer away from the topic.

“Never really hurt from it,” you say, indifferent, hoping to put an end to the subject afterwards. “My routine’s changed, so that sort of sucks. I got really comfortable.”

Eren hums. “That’s dangerous. Complacency. I’m going to assume he was very vanilla too?”

You roll your eyes.

Eren feigns innocence. “What?”

“I don’t want to talk about breakups, past relationships, none of that…”

“Fine, what about your body count?” He snorts, again, feigning innocence when you don’t answer. “He wasn’t your only one, was he?”

You roll your eyes. Like after, there were also men before Colt. Though they didn’t compare to the roster you’ve had this week. Maybe it comes with age, but your sex life had never been better. “I’m on Tinder, what’d you think?”

This seems to shift Eren’s mood. The snark stutters across his features into a scowl. “Oh…so you’re on Tinder to hook up only?”

“Didn’t say that.”

“You’re not looking for a relationship though.” He leans back, looking scorned. “Body counts going up then.”

What’s his problem? He’s the walking incarnate of a fuckboy, but the idea of you laying up with other guys he doesn’t even know spurs this sudden attitude. You’re strangers, both single, full stop.

He pushes his tongue against his cheek. “Is there any guy on Tinder you haven’t slept with?”

You balk, brows rising. However, the corner of your lips curl, less angry and more amused. Someone's competitive... “Are you upset that you’re not one of them?”

You expect another taste of his attitude, for his frown to deepen. You do not expect his eyes to light up, like a dare igniting.

“Oh, you’re a brat.” He tops his drink with a grin. “That’s in my pay grade.”

You shouldn’t entertain this, you already know. You’re both far too old to be playing games for strangers that only met to inevitably hook-up. You also know you shouldn’t be turned on by this challenge across the table, green eyes and tongue-pierced. Heat gathers at the center of your thighs anyway.

“I don’t mind taming a brat,” Eren continues.

“You’re an expert?” you challenge. “Because I don’t know what brat you’re talking about—"

His laughter cuts you short. “Oh no, you’re a brat alright. Tell me more about those Tinder hook-ups. Any of them better than that boyfriend of yours?”

At his condescending tone, your brow twitches. At the dark lust in his eyes, your thigh twitches.

“You seem really obsessed with knowing about my ex,” you say. “Are you trying to compensate for something?”

Eren tilts his head, smirk stiffening, a crack in his arrogant resolve. “Trust me,” he recovers. “I don’t need to compensate for anything.”

It’s like a bait you can’t resist, wanting to see to that promise. But you restrain yourself. Regardless of your intentions for being there, you can’t feed into ego, his or yours. However, Eren does make it difficult the more he pricks and needles.

Eren takes your silence as an invitation to barb you more. “If I were to guess, he sucked at getting you off. That’s a shame, you’re too pretty to deal with someone like that.”

You can’t explain it, but you find yourself taking Eren’s bait, defending Colt. “He knew how to love.”

“But he didn’t know how to fuck.” He folds his arms. “You do. That’s why you’re on Tinder.”

Your blood is flushed with heat and agitation. What’s worse it that you don’t mind it, but your ego refuses to let you give him that satisfaction. As much as you would like to hook-up with Eren, you might have to cut your loss instead.

Finishing your drink, you pucker your lips, tingling with the burn of alcohol. Eren frowns as you rise to your feet.

“Thanks for the drink. Have a nice night.”

Spinning a heel, you hear Eren scoff, beckoning you to come back and when you don’t, he clicks his tongue. But you don’t turn back, nor do you flinch when you hear the scrape of a barstool around the call of your name.

“Shit—I need to close my tab—”

You’re outside, crossing the back lot when footsteps haunt your own, rushing to catch up. “Wait!” Your name spills out of Eren’s mouth. “Wait! Just—wait!”

You peer over your shoulder with surprising level-headedness, but the pulse of your wrist skips, caught in Eren’s grasp.

Silence ensues as Eren catches his breath, fingers wrapped along your wrist to keep you from escaping. A few rogue strands have come loose along his hairline and his previous scowl inside the bar remains intact, though it has smoothed out since finding you.

“Yeah?” You level him with the same sharp glare earlier, patience thinning and heart pounding, charged with the adrenaline. “What is it, Eren?”

He leads you a few paces towards a parked black car that you assume is his.

“You know, you’re keeping me right now,” you say.

Eren’s eyes snap up. “Whoever they are, they can wait.”

You scoff. “Right, because I was about to run off to my ex-boyfriend, that’s who you think is waiting for me, hm?”

At the mention of Colt, the humor resurfaces in Eren’s face, though it’s pinched with slight irritation.

Fueled by the tension, you egg Eren on, delighting in the way his hand tightens around your wrist.

“Like I said, he knows how to love.”

Eren snorts. “Right, right, you mean he bored you.”

“That’s what you say."

“That’s what I know.” Eren’s eyes darken, dropping your wrist to run his fingers along the side of your stomach. “He was gentle, wasn’t he? Because that’s how you like them.”

You narrow your eyes, warmth flooding your neck and gathering between your legs. “You don’t know how I like them.”

Whether it’s the heat of the moment or ego, you refuse to tell Eren that he’s right. Despite how healthy of a relationship, you and Colt had, overall, he didn’t satisfy your sexual needs. Sure, you always knew that, as did your friends. But that doesn’t mean Eren needs to hear it too. With nothing else to say, you fall silent, bristling from Eren’s touch.

“So, I’m right,” Eren breathes as he leans closer, hands trailing south, beneath your skirt. He flicks his gaze up, and you acquiesce by not pushing him away.

He finds the gusset of your bodysuit and raises a brow. His surprise fades away in seconds. The crotch of your bodysuit is snapped aside, and you wince.

Fingers glide along the slit of your pussy that you fight to stand. Eren hisses a laugh, pleased to find you soaked. “Did your boyfriend make you this wet?” A knuckle presses against your center, and you release a shaky breath. “Did he?”

You mewl, shaking your head.

“Didn’t think he did,” Eren whispers, arrogance distinct. He replaces his knuckle with his thumb as two fingers rub your folds and a third prods your entrance.

Words evade you, dying on your tongue and you can only manage a gasp when his thumb quickens its pace.

“Who’s making you wet then?”

The added pressure on your clit makes you gush, and the victory in Eren’s smirk makes it harder to resist his allure.

You sputter, “Y—you.”

“Hm?” Eren’s third finger inches inside of you like a phantom touch, close but not enough to push past your walls. “Who?”

“You…Eren.” You’re so starved for more stimulation, you don’t care about your ego anymore, gladly tossing it away in exchange for relief.

A finger slides into your pussy. You moan, tilting your hips.

Eren breathes a laugh, tongue swiping his lip. “That’s a good little pussy.” He rewards you with another finger, pumping with enough vigor that promises to unravel you within seconds.

Your back flattens against the side of Eren’s car, chest rising with sharp gasps. Your hooded gaze fixates on Eren’s unshaken stare. His equilibrium combined with deft fingers bring you to the edge, your pleasure almost crests.

The pace dials down significantly, and you’re rolling back down the hill of a stable mind. Eren’s fingers continue to pump inside of you at a much slower rhythm, the pressure on your clit has reduced to featherlight.

You blink up at him, bucking your hips to reignite the dying embers in your lower belly.

Eren’s keen on taunting you, pressing onto your clit again with renewed pressure.

Breathless, you say, “Eren, don’t stop.”

He doesn’t listen, wearing a mask of mock confusion. “Oh. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you need.” His fingers pull away.

You snatch up his wrist, a desperate plea in your grip, leveling him with a yearning gaze. “Eren, I want you to fuck me.”

Victory pulls at the corner of Eren’s lips, his hand stroking your face in a delicate manner. “You want to get out of here?”

You rise on your tiptoes, giving him a heavy nod, hypnotized by the tension crackling from your bodies.

“I can take you back to my place. Give you the best rebound fuck of your life.”

You nod again, hasty and urgent, voice lost in the rising tide of desire.

“You want that?” Eren husks.

You swallow. “Mhm.”

Eren erases the miniscule gap with a press of his forehead against yours, a taunting glimmer in his eyes. “Too bad.”

The car door flies open, and you’re tossed inside, hitting the leather of the backseat. There’s little time to process anything, and no time to adjust your skirt that’s rolled up your thighs. Eren climbs in, pushing the fabric up.

His mouth is on yours, sucking the air from your lungs. When he pulls back, your head spins.

“Tinder whores don’t get fucked in private.” Sliding down, your thighs are hitched over his shoulders. “They get fucked in a parking lot.” He flashes the stud on his tongue, moving his mouth to push it out.

Your thighs quiver, hand digging into the leather seat.

Eren’s gaze falls to your pussy, ego resting on the edge of his smile. “Shit, you should see yourself right now. You’re dripping. You want to me to treat you like a whore. You need me to have a taste, huh?”

You would like to clapback, wishing for something snippy to spill out. But it would betray the anticipation flowing through your body. Whether Eren means it or not, you enjoy his overconfidence, aching at the degradation, growing wetter from it. Colt would never entertain such a concept.

Pride nowhere to be seen, you nod, biting your lip; pleased and pliant to be the whore he makes you out to be.

Eren’s brows rise, grinning, nonetheless. He yanks you closer by the hips, and for a moment you’re aware of the open car door. Although the lot is empty, anyone can walk by, sneak a peek over to witness what Eren’s preparing to do to you. And you moan despite all that.

“Time to chase that drink down.” There’s a strain to Eren’s words like he’s in need to gulp down his drool. He doesn’t, letting his tongue hang and a dribble of saliva meets the slick of your pussy.

“Oh—oh!” You lift your head, eager to get a visual of what you’re feeling. Eren’s piercing juts out, extending that the hard metal presses onto your clit. Your hips buck up to meet the stud again.

Eren’s mouth slots over your pussy, dragging his tongue along the slit, tongue ring grazing between your folds. It’s a foreign sensation, sparking more pleasure when it meets your clit again with a flick of his tongue.

Eren comes up, eyes deeper, richer, and lecherous. His sharp inhale sounds more like a slurp. “Fuck…you taste perfect to me.” You whine as his tongue meets your folds again, tongue ring nudging your pussy lips. “Cum on my tongue, yeah?” It falls out like a desperate demand.

“Yeah…ah!”

Eren’s tongue slides into your entrance, pushing past the flesh. You can feel the tongue ring exploring your walls, not as distinct as you expected it to be. However, it’s Eren’s technique that has you staggering close to release.

He’s ruthless, eating you out with an insatiable appetite. Two fingers press onto your clit, swiping in a stride that sparks your pulse.

“Ah—Eren—” You grind against his hold, climbing that peak of ecstasy. You grab hold of Eren’s hair by the bun to keep yourself steady.

Eren swaps techniques, fingers replacing his tongue to massage the spongy spot inside of you while the tip of his tongue laps at your clit. The pressure from the stud and the curling of his fingers, set you free, the world unraveling in the backseat of his car as you cry out your release.

Eren’s fingers pull away, he slurps you up as your body twitches around him, recovering from the rush of pleasure.

Your mindless as he cleans you up, hand carding into his hair lazily.

It’s like time’s been pulled from beneath you when he resurfaces, crawling over.

Tilting his head, he smirks. “Are you still there?”

You nod slowly, head floating. Words are robbed with Eren’s mouth on yours. His tongue slides along yours, stroking you with his stud.

Breaking apart, you and Eren catch your breaths.

At the sight of Eren’s dark gaze, your mind returns to you, punctuated with a telltale bulge pressed against your pussy.

Pleasure renews and you shudder.

“We’re not finished yet,” Eren says.

You lick your lips, brows furrowing together to fill the blanks you’re unable to verbalize.

Eren’s amused by your silence. “Nothing to say to me? Does my little whore need a break?”

You bite your lip again, needing more friction between your legs. Trembling thighs wrap around him.

Eren takes your chin, leveling you with a look, overflowing with confidence. “Use your words…I haven’t fucked you dumb yet.”

You shake your head, watching a flame flicker behind Eren’s eyes, a challenge sparking there. “No, now, c’mon, just fuck me already before I change my mind.”

You both know you don’t mean it, but it doesn’t stop Eren from teasing you.

His arms cage you on either side of your head, voice dripping with arrogance. “I think I’ve done my part convincing you, angel.”

Your pussy weeps at the pet name.

In a flash, Eren pushes away, hunched over to reach in the center console. His teeth rip into the condom’s wrapper, watching you with hunger. He undoes his belt, shoving down his boxers in haste.

His cock springs free, pearly with precum. You want to get a glimpse of his manhood, but you’re pinned to the leather. He moves so quickly, doesn’t bother to stroke himself, already rock hard and ready to burst. The condom slips on, and he draws closer, yanking your thighs in.

The tip of his dick kisses your entrance. The pressure alone is enough warning of his size. You meet his eyes and spread your thighs as far as they can go in the tight space.

He falls forward again, elbows bent on the seat your head lays upon, green eyes fixed on your face. He pushes into you. “Gonna mold this slutty pussy to take me.”

The stretch pushes air from your chest in a pleased moan, and he slides in until he’s fully sheathed inside of you.

He gives you no time to adjust, doesn’t waste any to flex his ego anymore. He fucks into you hard and erratic, hovering so close to your face.

It’s an oddly intimate view, you forget that you’re being fucked in the backseat of his car in a parking lot. However, you’re a sucker for eye contact and relish his hooded gaze, bewitched by the feel of you clenching around him.

Labored breaths fill the backseat, steaming up the windows from the passion between your bodies.

Eren grunts out your name. “Fuck! This pussy is still so tight—”

On cue, your walls clamp down on his girth, an animalistic sound rumbles in his Eren’s throat.

“Fuck—fuck—” Eren’s tongue pushes past your lips. He pulls away with a smile, a surprising tenderness in his eyes, contrasting his rough nature.

Eren’s hand plants itself against the fogged window, and the other travels south, rubbing your clit in a hurry. “Want you to gush over my cock.”

You writhe like a spirit reawakened, clawing at the leather interior again, and that’s when you feel it—arching your back as you cum for the second time.

Eren’s hips slam into yours, hot pursuit of his own release that tears through him a moment later, in a long-satiated groan.

You watch him fall apart, eyes shut, brows pinched. His jaw hangs open, giving you another peek of the tongue ring.

A moment passes. Eren’s fingers slip from the window, arm shaking from the impact of his climax, his body sinks.

You press your hands against his chest to keep him from crushing you.

Eren catches himself, hovering over you. “Thanks.” He blinks at the window with a grin. “Look at that. We fogged up the place.”

Your head tilts. Fingerprints streaked along the glass, clashing with the sudden chill that enters the backseat.

You scoff lightheartedly, reeling from the throws of passion and the excitement of having tried something daring, something you’ve always fantasized. A carnal itch has been scratched.

Car sex. You’re a new fan.

…

Eren gives you a lift home.

You point out your complex. “That building just before the stop sign.”

The car rolls to a stop at the front, the engine shutting off.

Unbuckling your belt, you pull out your keys, hand on the door.

Eren takes your other hand, reeling your attention back as you turn to him.

He’s smug, and you can’t deny that you feel the same way. Though what he says takes you aback.

“Um…I didn’t mean any of that by the way. You’re not a whore.”

Your shoulders slacken with the release of a faint laugh. “Oh, don’t worry, I didn’t take you seriously. I didn’t mind being called one.” You bat your eyes. “Or…fucked like one.”

The corner of Eren’s lip curled, widening with pride. “I’m up for another round, any time.” He kisses your knuckles. “I’ll text you.”

Like the other guys, Eren was not a bad lay. But with him, you don’t put stock into anything he says. You’re not naïve, too mature to act like a school-girl to his charms. He’s a womanizer at heart.

A new notch on your belt is all.

You open the door. “Sure, have a good night.”

☻ masterpost☻ taglist: @moonmalice @daisynik7 @theragethatisdesire @squidalapobre @arlerts-angel @shepnicolo @porples-blog @jeanboyjean @fictional-d-supremacy

507 notes · View notes

thelone-copper · 10 months

Text

Mmkay so I was working on some doodles for Colt’s new body type and these are some WIPs!! I wanna go for that hidden muscle thing (especially for mob Colt) and gave him a more trapezoid body type rather than the rectangular one I gave him before. It was too close to Samir’s body and I wanna diversify a lil more :D plus it didn’t give off enough “stronk cowboy” vibes imo I’m sorry😭😭😭

There’s some shirtless Colts in here so content warning ig🤭

I broadened his shoulders and gave him some thighs and some more chest (he still has no ass because I’m generous but not that generous lol)

And here’s some beefier Mob Colt doodles too!! All are anatomy studies on Colt’s new look and things to help with Mob Colt’s stitch placements :DDDDD

#I’m proud of that one stretching doodle for normal Colt WHENDBFB I thought it turned out cool #I think this fits him more…what do y’all think?#lmk in the comments :DDDD #colt cattlemen #mob colt cattlemen #welcome home #welcome home oc #welcome home fanart #welcome home mob au #welcome home fandom

297 notes · View notes

dahliaes · 19 days

Text

sea of magnolias - chapter two "dragonflies"

cw; no plot ofc, slice of life, melancholy, references to mother nature, jean is now here and he is a SWEETIE!!!! pure fluff, 3k words because im so slow, i wanna be 17 and live in the sea, yearning/longing, pieck and porco are idiots in love

hi again!! this story is very touching to me and i can't stop expanding despite how little the word count is lol i hope you all enjoy this little slice of life south carolina story bc i love it!!

chapter one

Marshes, white beaches, blue crabs. They didn’t wake you up. Neither did the small puddle of drool in the basin of your collarbone or the breeze bleeding in from the open window. That’s ocean breath.

You come apart, your cold limbs tangled up in hers and your eyes open like blooming flowers; if you could just sleep for a bit longer…Sleep like the pale mermaids you see rotting in the marsh, where the sea swallows their spine and soft skin; God puts her face down and her carrion melts unto the moon drenched nectar. If you could sleep…

You shiver beneath the cool quilt and feel Pieck beside you, your sweaty skin slides off hers with no traction—just like how the algae in the marsh slips beneath your feet.

Sometimes you and Pieck would cuddle in her twin sized mattress, hide beneath her big pink comforter, and trace each other's scars like constellations. A botfly infested her bottom lip and Porco cut it out with his pocket knife. She bled like a peach and smiled at you with blood stained teeth. You were shirtless playing cowboys and Indians with no distinction whether you were a boy or a girl, tripped and skinned your knee on the blistering pavement. Mama poured rubbing alcohol over your skin and promised that it wouldn’t hurt but that didn’t stop you from crying. You’ve got another one where no one can touch.

And sometimes you’d wake up with sunlight bleeding in through her window, the kind of sunlight you only saw when you were seven years old and small enough to be carried by your Mama; chalk on your hands and knees covered in bruises, no one had hurt you yet and never would if she was there to protect you, right?

“Pieck?” You whisper, hoping she hears you above the whispers of the marsh. They’re always saying something to you. You drifted to sleep like drifting to the sea and it’s still dark out, even darker than before, and you hear noise coming from the kitchen over the marsh valleys somber sounds. She’s saying something to you. “I think Pock’s home.”

“Mhmph,” She mumbles beneath the blankets and rubs her tired eyes, “He doesn’t live here.”

You’ll have to go home soon. Home right on the marsh water and rotting wood, home where it smells like the feather of a blue heron and where you’ve got all your pretty sundresses hanging up like American flags—the kind that makes boys unable to control themselves around you and God turn his gaze back to the sunset; Pock will drive you home. But it feels so nice to cuddle with her. Her skin is hot but cool when you touch your cheek to her spine, each little bump is another phase of the moon and you remember how she was the only girl at your sixteenth birthday.

You hum at the buzzing of Porco; Pieck, will you make me the happiest man on earth? Will you give me a son? And you hear his deep voice, heavy with beer and honey, mumbling something indistinct and gruff, something you don’t bother listening to.

“He must’ve brought another one of his fuckin’ friends over,” Pieck stretches her feet from beneath the blanket and cracks her back like a glow stick, “My daddy’s gonna kill him. I promise you that.”

Pieck slips away, waddling like an angel to the warm light of the kitchen lantern—that's how the fireflies get burned—and you hear her mumble to Pock about how he shouldn’t be using the key under the mat whenever he feels like a beer with his buddy… Jean?

Not blondie Reiner, not the olive boy Connie with the shark tooth necklace—he said he dug them out himself—not the younger one Colt or the dark scary boy Jaeger with dead eyes.

Jean. A new flower.

The moons out, you can feel her flowers growing and her spotlight shining down through Pieck’s open window. With that breeze, with that coolness of the evening, with that sleepy nectar that always keeps you safe. Midnight blue faded around you. You could almost touch it.

You shuffle beneath the quilt, rubbing your eyes full of bugs and lashes, and hear Pock crack open a Bud Light; he’s gonna crack his teeth one of these days. And you crawl out from the blanket to follow Pieck, just like you always did as a baby with your little blue jeans rolled up to your knees, always wanting to be right by her. This time it's a peach sundress and hardwood floors. You float to the kitchen light like a moth to a flame.

It’s Pock stumbling drunk and swinging his arm over her shoulders, kissing her sloppy and dancing around the kitchen with his babies in his arms. It’s Pieck hiding her face in his chest, hiding her red cheeks and blooming smile where no one but his heart can see and it’s—

He’s six feet tall, as tall as the moon, and maybe he could get it for you if you ask real nice—he’s leaning out the open window, looking up at the deep dark sea of the sky, the moon like a pearl and his tan skin like the shore. Blue jeans and a red ball cap; oh, you wanna touch your heart and find the seashells hidden inside, put them up to your ear, and have them whisper to you that he’s a flower. A lily? A dahlia? The ones hidden beneath your bed with true souls and soft eyes…

And he turns around and you see his face. Now you know what flower he is.

Oh, he’s so pretty.

You lock eyes for a moment and you swear his face softened; in oil paint taken right from the moon and sea, he was made from honey. He looks at you like a little boy, as if he weren’t a man, but something soft and slack jawed that wouldn’t hurt you or the frail little birds with broken wings you like to nurture; his baseball cap and light scruff. He gently smiles at you and you swear boys like him aren’t from here.

He sips his beer and runs a hand through his hair. You touch the flowerbed between your breasts and wonder if you’re ever getting home.

“Go away,” Pieck shoves him, but he takes her down with him, “You’re an animal.”

“You know you love me, baby.” Porco slurs, “S’why you’ve got my baby in you. S’why we’re gettin’ married,'' He pulls her into his arms, his wet mouth bleeding with beer kisses the top of her head and rubs her belly, eyes lidded like bumblebees—you stand there watching them fool around, listening to the gulls and the nic-sea-breeze fray the curtains, letting the blue moon drift in pass Jean. He must like it. He’s watching you, a gentle smile that makes him look humble, then the open window, then the mosquitos buzzing around his sun kissed skin. Oh, he’s so tan. Oh, he’s so tall.

He doesn’t look like one of the boys from here. Even though he’s tan and strong, he looks tender.

He reminds you of those shy cowboys, the ones with hearts aglow and eyes full of stars, waiting to be met with either a bottle of whiskey or the Big Dipper up in the sky; your cool naked skin by the campfire and his big old calloused hands shining orange, red, and blue as he holds you close…

But you look at him again and he isn’t a cowboy. Cowboys can’t ride in the marsh. He’s just soft and pretty and taller than the moon. He’s only seventeen.

Maybe he’ll play cowboys and Indians with you.

Porco pouts at Pieck when she pinches his cheeks. You hope she shuts him up before he starts singing that song and makin’ up his own lyrics, before he starts trying to fight everything in sight. But you also hope Jean isn’t as quiet as you.

“You girlies shouldn’t be left alone,” Porco kisses her nose and you know he’s piss drunk, he must’ve robbed a liquor store like his daddy used to. That’s what put him in jail. “Y’all’dve called me n’ Jeanboy. Promise we’da keep ya safe and all.”

Jeanboy. Oh, Jeanboy, say something. You can’t help but watch him standin’ there, silent and tall with big shoulders meant for climbing on; something so intangible, something so indistinct and sweet about him. You hear Mother Nature humming everytime he looks up and looks away, shy like a scared little fawn in the body of a big strong elk. That’s not how boys act. You swear she’s rubbing peach blood all over his cheeks. He’s blushing.

“Yeah, you’re real cute, Pock.”

Then you watch him lean down to her and whisper something that he shouldn’t have, something that makes her wanna die.

“Will you shut up?” Pieck squeals, sick of all the sweet words he’s been whispering beneath his breath. She pushes him away and he comes stumbling drunk over to you.

“Miss Baby,” You’re sick of that nickname, “Haven’t seen you around here lately.” Porco pinches your cheek and you slap him away like a mosquito. You wish he’d shut up. He’s always treating you like a little sister and you didn’t want Jean to think you were something not worth kissing. You’re a woman. But Porco wouldn’t understand that.

“Why are you in my face?”

He slings his arm around you a little too rough and you can see Pieck peeking around the corner, making sure her daddy doesn’t hear all the drunken ruckus he’s causing—maybe, like the whispers of June, they just don’t notice anymore. They just get used to it.

“I have a secret to tell ya,” Porco whispers to you and his breath feels like august heat on your cheeks, thick and moist and hot with the stench of Bud Light lingering and floating throughout the air. You can taste how many beers he’s had.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“My buddy Jean over there,” He keeps his voice low, just for you to hear, he snickers and leans down like he’s about to kiss you, “He says you’re pretty.”

You want to scream.

With that cool breeze, Mama’s voice floats right to you and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear; Pieck’s got a willow tree and Her limbs sway in the wind. You remember once how a boy opened your hand and pressed a daffodil on your soft palm. Maybe when Jean was looking out the window he saw seven year old you and wanted to go back to a time before he was a man, before the world had changed him from callow to tough and worn. How long has he been here? Where’s he from? Not here. You woulda known. You woulda recognized him.

But you’re getting ahead of yourself. He didn’t say that, right? You’re wearing a light sundress and he’s wearing dirty old blue jeans with a faded red ball cap. You hope he’s got a truck.

Porco snickers and you aren’t sure what to say. No, he didn’t. He doesn’t even know me. Stop fucking around, Pock. Then you’d push him away and take Pieck’s hand in yours and run to the beaches like you were still kids running away from everything scary and loud; the monsters beneath your bed and the man who left bruises on her frail little arms. But you didn’t want to run to ten years ago. You wanted to run so tall and pretty and shy Jean couldn’t see you anymore. Run right into the sea and crash onto the waves and become a mermaid. Pretty where no one can see, especially not him.

“Leave her alone, you dick.” Pieck pinches his cheeks and he tries to give her a big wet kiss, but you’re looking at Jean with one of his eyes half shut and a little smile peeking up at you—at you?

“What? We’re just havin’ some fun, baby,” Porco laughs and Pieck scoffs and pulls him away from you, the salty sweet stink of Bud Light and cigarettes drifts off with him. As she takes him off to the living room, throws him down on the couch, and covers him up with that quilt, you stare at Jean. He keeps his eyes on the ground and you swear you do too, but…

He swallows and you watch his Adam’s apple bob. What were you supposed to say? Something about how Mother Nature grows forget-me-nots over your Daddy’s grave and how if he were to grab your waist, he’d feel flowers growing between your ribs and healed bruises from that night in October. What were you supposed to say?

How are you supposed to talk to boys?

And Jean opens his mouth like he’s about to say something but—

“He’s sloshed,” Pieck comes from behind you and you want to get down on your knees. “Wanna spend the night? You can sleep in our bed.”

“I can’t,” You whisper, wiping your cheeks so hard the blush comes off, “I’ve got church in the morning. I gotta get home.”

“I can drive ya.”

Just as he said that, the flowers in between your breasts bloomed and you felt something from a few summers ago whisper in your ear.

“Really?” You whisper back, but it wasn’t to him. It was to God.

“’Course,” He mumbles and comes over to you, somehow getting taller with every step, “I’m Jean.”

“Georgia.”

Georgia, you knew your cheeks were like wine. Georgia, your stomachs full of butterflies and you know not to touch those delicate wings, Georgia, he’s so cute. Georgia, you knew he was strong, but small scars cover his warm, whiskey-honey skin and you can’t bring yourself to look right at him and his little smile—despite what manners you’ve been taught. If you stare at an eclipse, you go blind… So as time slows and the heaven-pearly moon fades over top you and him, you look for something. Something boys aren’t meant to have and something only stargazers can find.

Then you see it—just as he smiles and sticks out his hand and says its nice to meet ya—you see it.

“Huh?” You say dumbly, wilting with a crooked awkward smile. Oh, God, you want to die. Pieck giggles at you and pinches your arm with a stupid smile on her face that makes you wanna hiss at her to shut up. C’mon, girl, what’s gotten into you?

“Said it’s nice to meet ya. I think I’ve seen you before on the docks, right? Down by Delphie?” He smiles sweetly and it makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter around the lilacs inside of you. You’re gonna be sick.

He shouldn’t smile at you like that. He shouldn’t look so cute and handsome and humble, like he’s one of those dogs that splash around in the creeks, beg for belly rubs, and wag their tails at every bit of affection they get. He smiles like a dog and you wanna put him down.

“Something like that.” You mumble, looking down at your bare feet and the toes of his boots. Your toenails are long and painted pink with smiley faces looking right up at you. Your face is hot like the sand on a summer afternoon and you can’t wait to get outta here.

“And I can drive ya home, if you want.” He says again, voice light and chipper. God, you wish he’d shut up. Maybe he wants you to jump up on his back and bite his ears and crawl all over him like a bug, he’s strong like a tree trunk and you could infest him if you wanted to. Because, God, you want to.

You blink at him. He blinks back.

“Sorry, Jean, she’s a mute!” Pieck squeals, shaking you by the shoulders, “We can’t ever get her to talk!”

“Shut up.” You whip your head around to see Pieck cackling like a witch and covering her mouth. You wanna push her so hard her baby falls out, but she starts to mouth to you; He is so hot! You swat her like a bug and beg for all this to be over, but you know you want it. You want to be with a boy, just for the night—not to lay beside, not to fuck or kiss, but to just be seen beneath the pale moonlight and have the sharp edge of seventeen pierce right through your heart like Mama said it would. Seventeen, she said, will always mean something to me. That’s when I met your daddy.

This summer wasn’t old enough to have a name, but if you climbed up into Jean’s truck and asked him if he believed in mermaids, maybe you’d name it Georgia.

“Fine.” You turn around to face him and you huff, “You can drive me home.”

Pieck buzzes behind you and you feel the ocean rise throughout your body, you’re scared you’re gonna throw up sea water all over him.

“Alright,” Jean flashes his sweet smile and runs a hand through his hair, “I gotcha.”

He’s got you.

And as you walk out with Jean behind you, Pieck and Porco turn into the no-see-ums that always bite your thighs; God plays a song just for you, just for Jean to hear, and you press two fingers to your heart as he watches. Maybe you’re sunkissed. Maybe you’re bare and naked and long legged with big eyes and there’s a moon you could bite into like an orange, but there he is. Behind you, holding the door open like a gentleman.

He has a seashell tattoo on the belly of his wrist and you promise yourself you’re going to touch it tonight.

#UGH back again!!!!!#sorry the chapters are so short i get nervy #sea of magnolias #jean kirstein #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirschstein x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtien #aot x reader #jean kirschstein #aot fanfic #jean kirschtein x you #attack on titan x reader

41 notes · View notes

mint-mango · 1 year

Text

little trimax panel redraw!

edited to add an ID!! thank you @princess-of-purple-prose <3

[ID: Redraw of a panel from Trigun Maximum, in a limited palette of dark pink, orange, and light and dark blue. Vash, shirtless and hair in the style of Eriks, holds his Colt up over his face with a bittersweet smile and says, "I was really happy with... my life right now." End ID]

#remember when i said i deleted this post by accident and that i would just reupload it the next day #well it’s weeks late but here it is LMAO #trigun #trigun maximum #vash the stampede #trigun fanart #my art

195 notes · View notes

drivinmeinsane · 5 months

Text

COLT SEAVERS {Scene Partner}

{ drabble } ※ { masterlist }

※ Pairing: Colt Seavers x GN!Reader

※ Summary: The stunt guy gets recruited to stand in for your scene partner during a sex scene for a highly anticipated blockbuster.

※ Rating: 18+ for highly suggestive content (simulated sex)

※ Word count: 1,157

“If I’m not going to be the main focus of the lens, then forget it! I spent too long in the gym to get sidelined like this.”

You’re leaning against a headboard on the movie set watching as your co-star throws another tantrum. This is just another one of the many that he’s had over the course of filming. It’s been a rough two months and you’re already behind schedule as it is due to his theatrics. You groan and sag against the mattress. You hadn’t even particularly wanted to do the scene with him, but at this point you would gladly let him flex and posture all over you just to get it done so everyone could move forward.

The director desperately tries to talk him down, but he keeps shouting at her. Finally, he throws his hands up and loudly announces that he is not getting in bed shirtless with you because it won’t be a glamorous sex scene. He actually walks off set entirely. There are a few tensely quiet moments while his agent chases him down and tries to beg the actor to set aside his arrogance and come back on set. The moment the agent returns empty handed with a defeated shake of his head, chaos erupts around you.

They scramble to find a solution. Two of the crew are sent to find another blond man who could plausibly stand in as a body double for the scene. While they are away, the director and the writer desperately think if there is any possible reworking they can do for the script. Can they make this a solo scene? Edit your partner in later? And on and on they go.

The crew members come back shortly and they’re not alone. With them is a blond man, taller and broader than your co-star. He introduces himself as Colt from the stunt department. He’s distractedly handsome in a rugged sort of way. The stuntman is nothing but polite when he shakes your hand and greets you personally. His eyes crinkle when he smiles at you. You instantly agree to work with him.

The two of you get into position after he’s been prepped by the intimacy coordinator and had a brief explanation of the scene’s requirements. Your hands are on his waist, resting on the leather of his belt. He, for his part, has his fingers pressing into the arc of your spine, coaxing you towards his body with the lightest of touches. He looks almost shy. His hair is falling into his eyes in a way that makes you want to brush it back for him.

“Be gentle. It’s my first time,” he jokes.

You don’t have time to laugh before the scene director is calling quiet on set. You wipe the smile off your face and relax. Colt sobers up as well, looking deadly serious, like he is about to do something life threatening.

“Action!” The clapperboard snaps closed.

The scene starts with the two of you all but lunging towards each other. You meet in a kiss and your scene partner’s beard is rough against your face. His mouth is soft, he’s kissing you like he means it. Your hands clench on his waist and he moves things right along. The stuntman walks you back into the door that is pivotal for the scene. He kicks it open, hard, too hard. It slams into the wall with enough force to knock a hole into the plaster. You gasp into his mouth. A quiet groan answers it.

Once in the room, you break the kiss and start fighting to get his shirt off. His hands meet yours and you’re working together to pull it over his head. The minute the garment is off and tossed aside, Colt is crowding against you, catching your mouth in another kiss while your hands splay across his chest. They're going to have to edit out his piercings, you realize faintly. If you were touching him under different circumstances, you would explore him in earnest. Learn everything there is to know about his body.

The backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, and your mind short circuits when Colt wraps his hands around your waist and tosses you back onto the mattress like you weigh nothing. That had not been in the script. You’re not sure if you’re breathless from the impact or because he is suddenly crawling onto the bed after you. Your legs fall open automatically at the sight of him. For the scene, you’re wearing modesty undergarments and an oversized shirt that suggests that it’s actually the only thing you have on.

He slots himself easily between your spread legs and braces himself over you. He rests his forehead against yours and rolls his hips. The pressure is barely there from all the intimacy padding but all the same, the action has you clamping your thighs tightly against him. Irrationally, you wonder what he would feel like for real. You’re barely aware of the cameras, barely aware that this is a scene. It feels too real, too good to be acting.

The blond man tucks his face against the side of your neck, hiding it from the camera’s eye. You feel the press of his mouth against your skin as he kisses the juncture of your shoulder. That wasn’t a necessary action, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. You bring a hand to the back of his head to encourage him, clenching your fingers into his hair. You feel more than hear the moan he makes when your nails scratch lightly over his scalp. Heat floods you at his indication of pleasure and-

“Cut!” The director’s voice cuts through whatever was building. “Excellent work, everyone. I think we got it.”

Colt lifts off of you and rolls to the edge of the bed where he sits for a brief moment before standing. You catch the barest glimpse of a scar on his back before the stuntman is on his feet and getting decent. By the time the director and supervising staff let you get dressed and off set, your impromptu scene partner is nearly out of sight.

You take off running, ignoring the startled looks of the crew. You might be a total fool, but it had felt like there was something between the two of you in that fake bedroom. Weaving through the milling production staff, you get within yards of him before you slow down.

“Hey, stunt guy!” You yell, winded.

He stops, startled, and turns to look back at you. He’s not the only one staring. It feels like everyone in the vicinity is watching the performance you’re putting on. You close the gap even further, coming to stand in front of him.

“Hey.” His tone is soft, questioning.

“I think we probably should have had dinner first, but will you accept after?”

He laughs, eyes squinting with the width of his answering smile. “I would like that.”

#the fall guy (2024)#the fall guy #the fall guy fanfic #colt seavers #colt seavers x reader #drabble #colt seavers fanfic #my work #my posts #my drabbles #i can't stop thinking about this man #it's only been 11 days since the trailer and this is the third time i'm writing for him

76 notes · View notes

schmooplesboop · 2 months

Text

Pairing: Alex X Male Farmer/Player

Rating and warnings: Teen, mentions of past and present alcohol addiction

---

At first Alex thought the thunderstorm had awoken him, or maybe the TV. He’d fallen asleep in bed while watching a movie marathon.

He’d spilled his veggie chips. He was grumbling and brushing the crumbs off his mattress when he heard a loud knocking. It wasn’t the storm or the movie playing on the TV that had woken him up. Someone was at the front door, in the middle of the night.

Alex grabbed his bat from the closet and went out into the hall. The door to his grandparents’ room was still shut, but that didn’t surprise him. Both of them were hard of hearing, his grandad more than his nan. Nothing short of an explosion could wake them.

He flicked on the porch light and glanced out the peephole. Colton was standing there, drenched in the pouring rain. His skin had a greyish cast beneath the glare of the porch light and his eyes were wide and faraway. Something was very wrong. Alex tossed the bat onto the nearby couch and quickly opened the door.

“Sorry—” Colton said immediately, though his voice sounded faint. “You were the closest—”

“Colt! What happened, dude? Are you okay?”

He just stood there vaguely, looking dazed, so Alex gently put one hand on his shoulder and drew him into the house. Colton’s sneakers squelched as he toed them off, leaving them on the mat by the door.

It felt so wrong, seeing Colton, who was usually so cheerful and full of life, somber and glassy-eyed. Alex kept a hand lightly on the farmer’s shoulder, leading him down the hall to his room.

Colton’s clothes were soaked through and the shoulder beneath Alex’s hand was cold as ice. Colton shivered constantly and his teeth chattered, but he didn’t seem to notice either.

“Here,” Alex grabbed a clean pair of sweats and an old Jumino Kart hoodie. “You can dry off and change in there…” He motioned to his small en suite bathroom.

The farmer nodded, but it took a full minute before his feet carried him through the door into the washroom. Sick with worry, Alex waited, teeth biting into his lower lip.

“Alex,” still that vague, faint voice. So unlike Colton. “I’m stuck…”

He cracked the bathroom door and peered in. Colton was indeed tangled in his soaked T-shirt. A towel had also somehow gotten twisted up in everything as well.

Alex grabbed a dry towel and slung it over his shoulder, helping Colton out of his tangled shirt and the extra towel, hanging them both over the shower door. Even after being freed, Colton just stood there looking lost, like he wasn’t really sure where he was. What happened?

“Here…” Alex gently patted Colton’s skin dry.

He nearly jumped from his skin when Colton’s arms abruptly wrapped around him, pulling him into an icy cold embrace. Alex’s face burned bright red, suddenly all too aware that he was only wearing his boxer briefs and a tatty crop top. And that Colton was shirtless. And hugging him.

“Sorry…!” Colton lurched like someone had pinched him and moved away. “Just needed… to feel someone. Sorry, Alex.”

“It’s alright, dude.” Alex replied, even more worried than before. “I’ll… just… wait for you in my room.”

He fled the bathroom, darting around his bedroom until he found a clean pair of joggers and pulled them on. Something was clearly going on with Colton. Really not the time to be thinking about how undressed they were.

Clad in his dry, warm borrowed clothes, Colton was shivering much less than before when he emerged from the washroom and his cheeks even had a little color to them, but his expression was still hollow.

“Colton…” Alex led him to the bed and sat down with him. “What’s going on?”

“I was— Finn and I were out for a hike…”

Alex jolted; Finn, the farmer’s dog, wasn’t with him. “Did something happen to Finn?”

Colton blinked slowly then looked at Alex like he just noticed he was there, “No. I left Finn with… when I—after—” The farmer seemed to lose his train of thought and Alex felt guilty for interrupting.

“Sorry,” he said, hesitating before setting one hand on Colton’s knee. “You and Finn were on a hike…”

Colton nodded, his hand covered Alex’s and squeezed. His fingers were brutally cold. “Finn and I were on an after-supper hike, wanted to get a little exercise in before the storm got worse… and Finn… Finn found Shane…”

Oh, fuck. Shane’s alcohol addiction wasn’t exactly a secret, especially with it spilling out into the public more and more lately. Alex himself had helped Shane, too drunk to walk, home just last week.

A million questions arose, but he didn’t interrupt again. He waited, rubbing the warmth back into Colton’s hand.

“There were so many beer cans… I couldn’t believe he was still alive… his lips were blue…”

Alex released Colton’s hand so he could wrap an arm around his shoulders instead. The other man leaned into him, still shivering slightly. Alex knew how terrifying it must’ve been for Colton to find Shane like that. He’d had a taste of it when he was a kid, before his dad took off for good. He’d also dealt with his own issues with alcohol in high school. It had never developed into a full-blown Problem, but he’d skated close enough to scare the shit out of himself and Haley. He’d never drank another drop since.

“I was afraid to leave him and of course there’s no cell reception out there… I had to carry him back to Marnie’s.” Colton’s voice was slowly gaining its strength back, his thoughts and gaze becoming clearer the more the words flowed. “Leah came to look after Jas and Finn. I drove Marnie and Shane to Harvey’s clinic…”

Alex waited on pins and needles. Was Shane…? Thunder crackled ominously overhead.

Colton blew out a breath, “Doc says Shane will be fine… physically, but it was a near thing. He’s going to talk to him about the emotional and mental matters when he wakes up. Marnie’s with him, told me to go home and sleep, but I… I couldn’t. I couldn’t go home. You were… you were the closest…” He suddenly sat up straight, pulling away from Alex. “Shit, it’s so late. I didn’t realize! I’m sorry—”

Alex shook his head, gently drawing Colton back toward him. “It’s fine, Colt. I just wish you’d called me; I would’ve walked over with my umbrella.”

“Sorry,” Colton said again. “…Thanks.” The color suddenly drained from his face once more, “I feel dizzy…”

“Lie down. I’ll get you some water.”

He helped Colton lie in his bed and tugged the blanket over his legs. He trod down the hall passed his grandparents’ bedroom (the door was still firmly shut) and got a glass of water from the kitchen.

“…Will you lie down with me?” Colton asked when he returned.

“Y-yeah, of course.” Alex replied, setting the water within Colton’s reach on his bedside table.

Colton folded the blanket back.

It was a tight squeeze. Both he and Colton were tall and his bed wasn’t really meant for two, but with their legs tangled together and Colton’s head tucked under his chin they just fit.

The farmer’s hands, finally warm, slid up his back. “…Thank-you, Alex.”

At another time, in another moment, that simple motion would’ve had him shivering. Alex hugged Colton close, just wanting the other man to know he’d always be there when he needed him.

“Don’t mention it.”

#stardew valley #stardew valley alex #stardew valley shane #stardew valley marnie #alex x male farmer #alex x male player #farmer colton #colton x alex #schmooples fic

14 notes · View notes

worldhell-archiving · 5 months

Text

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ @devoteyrheart ⤸ random ask time! bc phew i haven't sent some of these to my mutuals in wayyy too long. for nile + floch + petra + porco + kenny + nifa: what are 5 images we'd find in their phone's camera roll? 👀

this is so cute!!! and very sweet!!!

nile has so many pictures of his wife and kids on his phone that take up 80% of his gallery and he will show them to you if you seem even the slightest bit interested. He also has accidental screenshots of his lock screen because buttons are confusing.

floch's images are screenshots of group chats and photos that are sent in said group chats. he doesn't take photos himself but he has a lot of stupid shit stored in there. the four first images to come up consist of a lot of dumb things said in chat that he had to save because he wants to repost them in that very chat as a dig. the fifth one ONWARD is the other squad members accessing his camera and taking a photo of themselves.

for petra the first three images would be her squad mates and her and she does take it selfie style and oruo is always unprepared and yells at her to take it again so he can make sure his hair looks good. she never does, he looks blurry or is pulling a confused face in every one. another image would be of a flower field that she found inside of the walls and marks it as spots to visit (she also has a lot of these from their expeditions in wall maria) there's one photo she manages to get of the captain when he's looking content. she then has to profusely apologise for taking it without asking first.

porco has so many pictures of himself out and about, and he's got at least one shirtless photo. the others are selfies of him with pieck or colt. he's got a photo he took of the younger candidates just being kids and playing about. the rest consist of close ups of reiner in unflattering angles, he takes them from afar and zooms in really close.

kenny battles with his phone. he's got at least two photos of men he's beaten to blood and bone which he uses just to show them how fucked they look. the other three are unflattering photos of his face that he accidentally took when trying to turn the camera around.

nifa's images are usually saved images of aesthetics or images of her in cute outfits because this girl adores fashion. a lot of squatting by the mirror images. she also has a few of moblit and the team when they're running on nothing by hange's energy and has caught them mid fall when she's trying to take a group photo.

#༊*·˚ floch. forster ◞ ― headcanon *ೃ༄#༊*·˚ kenny. ackerman ◞ ― headcanon *ೃ༄#༊*·˚ petra. ral ◞ ― headcanon *ೃ༄#༊*·˚ porco. galliard ◞ ― headcanon *ೃ༄#༊*·˚ nifa. ◞ ― headcanon *ೃ༄#༊*·˚ nile. dok ◞ ― headcanon *ೃ༄#( 5 images and instead I just ramble BUT THIS WAY SO FUN AND ALSO V FUNNY )#( BLESS YOU ;w; <3 )#( ALL MY HEART TO YOU )

11 notes · View notes

exclectical · 1 year

Text

Thunderhorse

THEME: Rarepair Month 2023: Rain/(AND soundtrack, I guess, ehe) RARE-PAIRING: Caj and Centaur-Skwisgaar WARNINGS: None unless you don’t like the idea of people marrying and procreating with monster types (no adult content) NOTES: I’m NOT sorry

==================================

Skwisgaar Skwigelf, world’s fastest centaur, made his second circle around the entrance to the hospital. The OB wing’s pickup/dropoff area offered benches and complimentary wheelchairs to the people who had to, or preferred to wait outside, but alas; there was no place to park his horse-for-a-butt comfortably.

The next best option was to sit on his haunches under the awning, a few feet away from the entrance. He was used to it by then, but he was aware of the stares from people waiting with him as they eyed the shiny white coat of his backside, long blond mane (that is to say, his hair), and chiseled torso which was laid bare and shirtless for all to gawk at. The showman in him made his pectorals do a little dance for the crowd.

“Let me guess,” came the voice of his wife as she interrupted his flexing, “t’ey did not let you in because you are not wearing clothes, again.”

“I ams.” He proved it by pointing to his leather arm-bands. Then, his eyes got wider and he danced to to his feet (all four of them). “SOOooooo?”

She gave him a knowing smirk and rolled her eyes. “As usual, t’ey don’t know if I should be seeing a doctor or a vet, but yes. Six weeks pregnant.”

“Hah!” He whinnied, pumping a fist, “Knews it. We gets you de best hays to sleeps in, and de bests oats for eatings...”

“Skwisgaar, I remind you I am a person.” Caj said, clapping his horse-shoulder. “I would rather sleep in our bed and eat ‘uman food.”

“Oh. Ja, rights. Suppose dat am fine too!”

He lifted her up and placed her on his back, petting strands of auburn to the space behind her ears. She pulled herself closer, onto his withers and he turned as much of his human body around as he could so they might embrace. They shared a single, sweet kiss before he felt her slide back down his spine and into a comfortable riding position.

“Sos.” He said, turning his human-half around, “Sugarcubes and Candy-Corns goings to have a brudder or sister! Maybe we names dis one somethings not so formals, ja?”

“Perhaps.” She grabbed his human hips as he began to move, “But not’ing crazy. I’d never want our colts and fillies to be teased when t’ey get older.”

“Goods points.” He readied himself to trot home, and headed towards the exit to the road, “Hejs, at leasts they doesn’t needs to gets driver licenses when they turn sixteens!”

Then, a loud bang cut through the silence. A flash of lightning followed it a second later. In mere moments, a downpour had started, and the rain cascaded beyond the clinic’s awning in torrential fashion.

“Shit!” Caj snarled, “I knew we should’ve brought the SUV and the trailer.”

Skwisgaar sighed at the delay, but in the end, he was okay with waiting it out if it meant more quality time with the woman he horse-married.

“Heh. Rains at dis times of the year!” He said. “How weirds is dat!”

THE END

================================== This story was continued from/based on @chordsykat art:

https://chordsykat.tumblr.com/post/682898398394892289/now-im-obsessed-with-caj-and-skwisgaar-au-where

Hehu! Surprise!

#NOT sorry #mtl rarepairs #metalocalypse #mtlrarepair2023

14 notes · View notes

strawberriesnpopmusic · 3 months

Text

Cami: I love your pajamas btw 😏

Colt: Haha you mean the fact that i’m shirtless right now?

#sims 4 #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 legacy #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 creator #hilltopfamily #legacy gameplay #ts4 legacy #ts4 gameplay #sims 4 story

4 notes · View notes

victorianwestpiano · 6 months

Text

So...my brain spitted out this:

No comments...

LOL!

Wow! It's been a long time since I posted Colt fanart. And I felt bad that my inspiration went numb these last months. But my studies demanded a lot of my attention this year. Greek Tragedy and Philosophy class are hard to get through.

But inspiration fortunately comes back ;)

And yes, this is the first time I draw someone shirtless. This case, Holt Farrier.

I'm still learning ;)

Colette found him there resting by accident. And somehow, she can't move...or doesn't want to move.

I wander what's she thinking...?

lol.

#holt farrier #colette marchant #dumbo 2019 #dumbo fandom #fanart #my art #pencil #markers #Holt you damn cowboy!#hahaha!#shipping #colt

5 notes · View notes

mochimooon · 6 months

Text

DTF Only (Out of Towner) - reiner braun x reader 18+

pairing: Reiner Braun x afab! Reader summary: Reiner's in town for one more day. A slip of the tongue over coffee, you learn that there was something he was hoping to cross off his bucket list before he leaves. word count: 3800+ notes: Part 3 of DTF Only. I've never written anything Reiner-centric. Ngl, he was probably the hardest to write. Hope you Reiner fans still enjoy! warnings: smut, explicit content, explicit language, oral sex (m! receiving), light bondage, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, praise kink ☻ masterpost☻

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+ !!

There’s something wholesome about Reiner.

His pictures range from pristine, professional, and candid. No shirtless, Myspace bathroom shots. No gym selfies. No pictures of him doing a manspread. No thirst traps. Just him at a wedding, on a hike, at a coffee shop, and—aww he’s got a dog!

His profile also is very innocuous.

He added his alma mater, the same as yours, much to your surprise, works in civil engineering, a self-proclaimed coffee snob and today happens to be his last day in town.

How’s it going? Still looking for the best coffee in the city. Got any recommendations?

You send out your reply for your favorite small café in the area. A hole in the wall, tucked away in the business district. The same corner that has five other chain coffee-shops, and it’s also within walking distance from where Reiner is staying.

Appreciate it! Can I buy you a cup as thanks? 😁

Smooth, you think, and again wholesome. Of course, for a guy to be active on Tinder while out of town, you already know what he’s in search for. And yet, another scroll through his photos makes you rethink that. He just seems so…wholesome. You hate to admit it, but he’s almost like Colt.

You accept the offer anyways and get ready.

Your phone buzzes back-to-back and you swipe it up to read your friends’ message regarding Reiner, beginning with Pieck’s first thoughts.

He’s pretty cute. I love the pictures with his puppy 🐶🥹

Then comes Ymir’s response.

Homie is performing…

Elaborate

Bless Ymir for being quick and brief, enough to get the message across for you.

He’s got a freaky side to him. If you catch my drift 😏

You can only hope that he does because the vibe you’re getting from him is tame—wholesome. You may as well charge up your vibrator for tonight.

The more wholesome they appear, the more they have to hide.

I don’t know… He asked to grab coffee, that’s as tame as it gets. He might just want to talk, maybe flirt a little.

In an instant your phone rings and you pick it up, not bothering with a greeting as Ymir’s already in your ear.

“Have you learned nothing from your romp with Pock yesterday?”

You sigh. “His name was Porco…”

“Whatever, the new guy says he’s from out of town. In Tinder-verse that means ‘I’m in town to fuck around’.”

Of course, you knew that, but—

“But nothing. What did I say about the blockhead yesterday? Bar, coffee, funeral, it won’t matter. Get your kicks in while the man’s still available. He’ll be quick to show you his true nature, and knowing the freak that you are, you’re going to like it.”

Maybe. Or it could be wishful thinking. Again, you can only hope.

......

He’s already outside when you arrive. He had the head start after all, but it’s not a long wait since you’re not too far from the area either.

From afar, he recognizes you, looking up with a warm smile, hands tucked into his pockets. At your approach, his smile brightens, freeing his hands with open arms, saying your name.

“Hi, thanks for swinging by!”

Breathing a laugh, you’re engulfed in his arms. It’s a warm embrace, lighthearted, like you’re meeting a friend. In any case, your vibrator should be fully charged tonight.

“I’m a hugger, hope that’s okay,” he says when he lets you go, pink tinting his cheeks.

He’s taller than Porco by a lot (and another blond, which you overlook). Also well-built, distinguishable underneath the button-down white shirt. The sleeves are rolled up like he’s just clocked out of the office.

A strong, chiseled jawline and some facial hair that suggests he’s gone a few days without shaving. But the standout to you is his smile. Warm, inviting, friendly. There’s got to be something hidden away there.

“I like hugging,” you say. “Ready to try out the best coffee in the city?”

Reiner opens the door for you, beaming.

After giving him a recommendation from the menu, you both place your order. There’s an awkward moment where you lightheartedly argue about the bill, but Reiner wins your favor, insisting that it’s his treat.

Together you grab a table in the corner after your drinks are prepared.

Rush hour brings in more commuters and students from the university across the city, and soon the café is teeming with life.

You finally take a sip after your coffee has cooled down, looking over at Reiner. “What’s the verdict?”

Reiner nods, licking his lips. “You’re right, premium roast. Five out of five.”

Your brows rise. “That’s generous. There’s no way you’re a coffee snob if you’re won over that easily.”

He shrugs, chuckling. “Well, a pretty face might have something to do with the perfect score.” He averts his eyes, scratching at the back of his neck.

He’s nice. Again, sort of reminds you of Colt, but that’s not a bad thing. While you’re not looking for a relationship, you appreciate Reiner’s friendly demeanor and his subtle way of flirting.

You chat and sip your coffee. And despite your dubiety with Reiner’s high ranking, he really does seem to enjoy his drink; taking hearty gulps until he sets it down empty before you’ve gotten halfway. He’s sincere too.

You bring up university, sharing that you’ve both moved away for your careers post-grad. “We might have crossed paths before.”

“Small world,” he laughs. “I guess you find anyone on Tinder. It brings people together in a way. I visited my hometown last month and I was surprised to see some classmates from middle-school on it.”

“So, was this a work trip?”

Reiner hums, giving his outfit a onceover. “It is. I visit a few construction sites a month and sometimes they take me in other cities. I had a meeting today and even though it’s a blue-collar profession, it never hurts to suit up. But…”

His eyes turn wistful for a moment, entering a thought that you can’t read.

You don’t probe him, expecting him to say something, so you finish up your coffee in time when he speaks again.

“I was hoping to cross one thing off my list before I leave.”

Your attention perks, not from the words, but from the lowered tone. “Is it too late? Whatever it is?”

Reiner lifts a brow, and it’s clear that you’ve given him the green light to divulge a little more.

To those around you, his expression remains the same, but you notice a change. His hushed tone, the slow clench of his fist on the table.

“This is forward of me,” he begins, leaning closer.

Like a magnet, you lean in, hanging off his next words that fall into your ear.

“I was hoping to have some privacy with you after coffee.”

His warmth breath makes your pulse stutter, spreading warmth to your ears.

You pull back a little, gaze captured by his light brown eyes. You swallow and nod.

A faint smirk pulls at Reiner’s lips, though he’s yet to make a motion to move. “To be sure, are you okay if we get out of here?”

The sly look he gives you has your mind spinning back to your initial impression of him. Wholesome, yes, but now you’re eager to see the other side to him.

You raise your chin, giving him a coy smile. “I’m sure.”

Reiner jerks his head to the side, the two of you rise to your feet, tossing away the coffee cups and leave.

Dusk has settled now and soon it’ll be much darker. The timing could not be better.

Reiner offers you his arm, a bold move you think, and with a racing heart, you take it.

“Where to?”

He walks at a reasonable pace, not in a hurry unlike the civilians scattering around the sidewalks to head home before it gets too dark.

“My hotel is a few blocks away.” He looks down, wearing the same poised smirk. It makes your heart skip a beat, and you want to drag him off.

You hold back, allowing Reiner to take the reins.

Heated glances only are exchanged during the walk, and you can hardly hear the traffic of the city against the rush of blood in your ears.

Approaching the hotel, your world spins through the revolving doors. You take a moment to admire the lobby, realizing that Reiner is staying at one of the city’s finest accommodations. Like everything you had gathered about him beforehand, you had seen him as more of a low-maintenance man.

Every inch is ornate with vintage touches, well-maintained, it’s like you’ve been thrust into a time capsule. You get a glimpse of the bar at the center past a massive piano that’s untouched at the moment.

Hotel guests bustle around in business suits and others in luxury outfits that drip with dollar bills.

The journey up the lift is also quiet, but the sexual tension is so deafening, you’re grateful when you arrive at Reiner’s floor.

With his card key, the door to his room opens. Like the rest of the hotel, it’s nice, lux with a view that overlooks other buildings on the street.

But it’s the massive bed that you’re already envisioning rolling around in, and you have to tell yourself to remain patient.

Reiner’s hands find your shoulders, nimble fingers easing the muscles there. “Finally, some privacy.” He murmurs into your temple, kissing you there.

You melt to his touch, muscles melting like clay from his warmth, a moan slips out.

“That feels nice, doesn’t it?”

You can only manage a hum in agreement, eyes fluttering shut to soak in the massage.

Two fingers push deeper into the junction between your shoulder and neck with delicious pressure. You throw your head back against Reiner’s chest.

He chuckles as you open your eyes, meeting his upside-down gaze.

“Now that we’re all alone,” he says, turning you around and takes your chin.

The bitter taste of coffee is heavy on his tongue, but you don’t mind. It’s warm, inviting, like Reiner’s energy.

It’s a stretch to reach him, but your arms snake around his neck, basking in the slow, seductive rhythm of his lips and tongue.

His hand slides down to the small of your back, pulling you closer with a firm yet delicate authority. And when he pulls away, it’s smooth like silk.

“Before we take this any further,” he says. “I wanted to elaborate on what was on my bucket list.”

You tilt your head, licking the moisture from your lips. There’s more? You had only expected a quick hook-up.

Your mind dives into another scenario, one where you’re chopped up and stuffed into a freezer. Thankfully, Pieck and Ymir always have your location so that alone shoves that lurid idea aside.

Reiner lets go, and you hear the zip of a bag.

He had wandered over to where his luggage rests on the rack by the TV. He throws a look over his shoulder, a little hesitant.

You smile to encourage him, and your eyes go wide when you see what he pulls out. You swallow hard, a shiver moving past you as every drop of your blood heads south.

Not rope or tape or a knife. But a blindfold and handcuffs. Accessories that could be used to kidnap you, but from the silk of the blindfold and the leather cuffs, you know it’s not that.

“Oh,” it falls out of you.

Reiner comes closer, offering the accessories for you to feel. “The cuffs can feel snug, but they won’t hurt you.”

Your pulse reignites. “These will be used on me?”

Reiner nods. “If you’re okay with that.”

You’re more than okay with that. A memory of the past pricks your brain.

It was a rare night where you and Colt decided to watch porn, and the choice was bondage. Seeing one of the actors tied up and blindfolded had inspired a fantasy to be at Colt’s mercy. But he never seemed enthused about the idea, so it became one of your many fantasies you had packed away.

“We can also do without,” Reiner says at your silence.

“You want to do this, though.”

A shadow hangs over Reiner’s voice. “I do. I like to play dominant. I’m not mean, unless you want me to be, but I prefer to play nice dominant.”

It sounds like an oxymoron to you, and yet it seems to fit Reiner’s personality. A man who likes to be in control whilst retaining that warm demeanor.

“Okay.”

It’s slow and gradual. You both undress each other with dexterous hands with Reiner taking most of the reins. The second you’re both bare, he awaits your consent one more time before he binds your wrists.

The leather is stiff but otherwise not too tight, and your hands hang to your stomach. Next, he drapes the blindfold over your eyes and the world goes dark.

The moment passes like grains of sand. Unable to see, you don’t move, straining your ears for any semblance of noise.

Fingertips brush beneath your jaw while a thumb caresses your lips.

“I’m going to use this.” Reiner’s voice slips through the silence. His thumb swipes at your bottom lip, wetting the pad of his thumb.

You can feel the heat from his body that pools at the center of your thighs. Your fingers curl around your pussy.

A firm grasp takes your jaw, puckering your lips.

“I didn’t give you permission to touch yourself.” The command is soft, but you can feel the teeth in his words. “The only person who will give you pleasure tonight, is me.”

You nearly falter from that promise.

Before that can happen, Reiner drops his hand, and your feet leave the floor.

You’re laid on your back, head at the edge of the bed. Another inch and your head would be hanging.

Seconds later, Reiner’s warm body approaches your face, his voice tumbling down. “As I was saying. I’m going to use your mouth.” His tone is softer, and the brush of his fingers stroke your lips again.

Despite the position, you nod.

“Atta girl.”

The praise takes you by surprise and you shiver.

“If you need me to stop, raise your hand and snap. Got it?”

You nod, licking your lips when he praises you again. And without being instructed, you slide forward, draping your head back and open your mouth.

Reiner chuckles, seemingly catching on. The brush of his fingers returns along your face and he croons. “Good girl…”

There’s a nudge on your tongue, salty from Reiner’s precum. He goes in slowly, you take a deep breath through your nostrils.

The last time you had given head like this before was back in university, long before Colt.

It does require some getting used to. Your chest heaves with the tension, easing up as Reiner whispers of encouragement, a rush of heat dripping between your legs.

You acclimate to Reiner’s cock, thick in your mouth, you don’t feel the blood creeping into your head.

“Good, good.” There’s a strain to Reiner’s voice, like he’s holding back a deep urge to fuck you.

And you’re right, because his dick twitches in your mouth.

You hum around it, spreading your legs wider when you feel Reiner’s hand stroke your pussy.

“A little reward for how good you’re doing for me so far.”

Your moan muffles from the touch and the added praise, you don’t think you can get enough. You’re so wet already, it’s not a matter of effort of working you up to finger you. He spoils you with two and a swipe of your clit.

His dick twitches again as you continue to moan, clenching around his fingers.

Drool gathers in your mouth, so close to dripping out. On impulse you suck, an attempt to gulp it down and Reiner groans, pressing down on your clit.

“You’re making it hard for me,” he husks, and you feel the loss of his hand. “I’m going to fuck your mouth first, okay?”

Gagged, the best you can reply is a strangled, “Mhm.”

He pulls out, dick coated in your saliva. You inhale deeply, still blind to the world around you.

You’re pushed a back on the bed a little, head repositioned before you’re stuffed with Reiner’s dick again.

He thrusts, building a pace that you become accustomed to.

Breathing through your nose and relaxing your throat, your gag reflex is dormant. You focus on the noises Reiner makes, light grunts dropping on you like the pitter patter of rain, punctuated with hitch in his chest that syncs up with another spasm in his cock.

“Fuck—your mouth is so warm. This throat is doing so good for me, an obedient thing.”

Saliva collects in your mouth again, pooling at a fast rate as Reiner fucks you with vigor.

Wrists still bound, you ache to touch yourself as much as you fantasize what Reiner’s face must look like at this moment. A deep flush along his face, light brown eyes rolling back in his skull. You find yourself moaning at that and Reiner releases a strangled noise, pulling out.

Threads of saliva pull from your mouth and fall down the corners of your lips.

A hand takes the back of your skull, urging you off your back.

You breathe deeply, sucking a lungful of air as you sit on the bed. When Reiner’s touch disappears, you turn your head, forgetting the blindfold is obscuring your vision.

“Just a moment,” you hear him say somewhere in the room.

The moment passes and he speaks again, instructing you to move along the bed.

You follow Reiner’s voice, an implicit trust for a stranger you only met a few hours ago guiding you where you think will be into his arms. If Reiner had come across as a lunatic, this would be your fatal mistake.

Thankfully, according to your female intuition, he’s not, and if he is, Ymir and Pieck aren’t very forgiving when something happens to their best friend.

The bed is so massive, you feel as though you’ll be moving along silk for ages.

“Right there,” Reiner says, and you go still, knees dipping into the mattress. His voice is closer than before and relying on your other senses, you feel him closer too.

The sheets rustle close by your feet, signaling his presence in time when his strong chest meets your back.

“Right here,” he husks at your temple, wrapping his arm along your stomach. “All wrapped up too.”

You don’t know why you nod, but you do to convey your thanks for him remembering a condom.

The weight of his body presses into your back. With his guidance, your thighs ghost over what you assume is his.

You crane your head for more instruction.

“Perfect.” He noses your neck, kissing softly, hand coming around to tweak your nipple.

You gasp from the sensation, close to reaching up to keep his hands on your breast, but the bite of leather keeps you from moving.

“You’ve been so good for me. Now, let me fuck you on this bed.”

You toss your head back, squirming at the dip of his fingers into your pussy.

“So, fucking wet…all from sucking cock. Filthy little thing.” He kisses the shell of your ear. “Just how I want you to be. Are you ready for me? Use your words this time.”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, please.”

“Give me a safe a word,” he commands.

“Helos.”

Reiner’s laughter scorches your ear. You’re too worked up to be embarrassed about it. With your mind like putty, the first word that sprang up was the name of the hotel.

“Use it if you need me to stop, okay?”

You nod eagerly.

“Good girl.” Reiner’s hands find your hips and he lifts you up a little and there’s a poke at your entrance as he lines up his dick.

In a slow fluid motion, he seats you there. Inch by inch, your pussy twitches to suck him in.

“Almost there.”

You know he’s sheathed fully when your ass is back on his lap, giving you a minute to adjust. To let him know you’re ready, you roll your hips back.

Lips press into your nape. “Remember the safe word.”

He thrusts up, hiking you up on your knees using his muscled thighs to create the momentum.

His hot breath burns your neck, one hand groping your breast and the other flicking your clit. In sync, you move up and down with his body fucking you.

The lack of sight dials up your other senses. You feel him deeply, the stretch, the bruising pain blooming around your breast, and the nerves in your center so sensitive, stars flicker along your darkened vision.

Reiner moves faster, fucking into you harder. “Do you like that? Like when I get a little rough?” He jerks his hips up.

You babble something resembling a ‘yes, engulfed in the heightened sensory experience. “Reiner…”

“I can feel you,” he pants. “You want to cum huh? Cum for me, baby.”

He rubs you faster, fucking into you harder and your back arches into him, moaning out the rush of your orgasm, eyesight restored momentarily with a burst of light.

“Atta girl,” Reiner rasps. “Atta girl, cumming on command.” He thrusts a few more times as your vision fills with darkness again and you float back to the bed after reaching the clouds.

You sag into his hold, Reiner pulls out. You yelp in surprise when you’re thrown forward.

You’re brought back to your knees, hips hoisted up while a pressure on your skull, keeps your head on the mattress.

You feel another stretch, welcoming Reiner’s cock as he slips back in and drills into you with fervor, a pace that promises his release is on the horizon.

A sting blooms on your ass from where Reiner’s hand landed.

“Fuck—I’m so close—” Another smack lands, followed by the gentle caress of Reiner’s large hand, a contrast to the rhythm that’s quickly becoming sloppy.

With both hands, you feel Reiner spread you open. He snaps his hips a couple more times and groans out as he cums.

He goes still, but his dick twitches inside of you and if not for the condom, you’d feel the warmth of his cum filling you up.

For a while, you hear ragged breaths, his and yours.

After, Reiner pulls out and you whine from the empty feeling but relieved when he takes lifts you back to your knees, easing the ache in your back.

The blindfold falls away. Blinking a few times to get a visual, Reiner kneeling on the mattress before you, undoing the cuffs.

He looks dazed. Heavy breathes pouring past his lips, a sheen of sweat layered atop the flush on his cheeks. A muscled chest rising and falling, flexing the contours in his stomach, and his dick soft yet endowed between his thighs.

With the cuffs off, you roll your wrists, smiling up at him.

He gives you a tired smile in return. “Appreciate you.”

The praise fills you with a different kind of warmth, but it’s endearing, nonetheless. There’s no need to ask, you already know. If anything, you’re both even. He crossed something off his list, as did you.

☻ masterpost☻ taglist: @moonmalice @daisynik7

#reiner braun #reiner braun x reader #reiner braun x you #reiner x you #reiner x reader #reiner #reiner smut #attack on titan fanfiction #snk #snk smut #attack on titan #mochi-writings #dtf only series

319 notes · View notes