#Nudie Magazines

[monkeyssalad-blog]

1957 Rugged Girlie Pin-Up Cheesecake Magazine by Vinnie DeVille Via Flickr: Vintage August 1957 issue of men’s girlie cheesecake pin-up magazine, Rugged. Sleezy, cheesy and a real “rag”. It’s always a thrill when it’s from Vinnie DeVille!

[anoritheark]

Pre-Teen Book Shelf

[bitter69uk]

Sixty years ago this month in the golden age of sleazy men’s magazines: b-movie ultra-vixen Mamie Van Doren graced the front cover of the September 1964 issue of Topper.

[rabbithaver]

when will my horrible wife come back from the war (webcomic hiatus because the artist hurt his hand)

[fvckw4d]

Also, for the record, I hate the term minor. It's not just fucking demeaning and pseuo-clinical, it also conveniently tells you nothing about the age range of the person you're describing except "presumably not an adult." It can be redefined at will ("25 year old minor") and neatly side steps whether or not someone is a toddler or turns 18 in two days, which, you know, is often pretty relevant information.

[rkivedpages]

❝ KISSES DOWN LOW ❞ ୨୧ SEVIKA

‎ﻬ˚౨ৎ BUT NOTHING CAN COMPARE TO WHEN YOU KISS ME THERE

‎ ﻬ˚౨ৎ AND I CAN���T LIE WHEN I LIE IN YOUR ARMS, BABY I FEEL SO SEXY

‎

PAIRINGS: TOP!SEVIKA ✘ BROTHELWORKER!R

SUMMARY: sevika is tired from a long week of work and she just needs to see the person that helps her blow off steam.

WARNINGS: 4.9k, [contains nsfw wlw content, m+mdni 18+], brothelworker!reader, black coded, smut, vulgar language, dirty talk, oral sex [both receiving], fingering [both receiving], sevika loves your boobs, clit slapping [𝑟!receiving], tribbing, creaming, neck biting and kissing, heavy eye contact, messy kissing, spit, nipple sucking, cuddling afterwards

J4Y SPEAKS — we needed this brothel scene in arcane..it was my treat.

wanna be tagged? welcome to j4y’s taglist!

‎ﻬ˚౨ৎ sevika rolled her neck around, hearing the cracks of her bones popping amongst the many people passing by while she stayed still. boot-covered feet splashed in the murky water puddles that took home in the uneven streets, you could hear the many food vendors cooking up whatever they were selling to the customers. sounds of the chewing of the food, slurping of the soups and liquids echoed through sevika’s ears.

the many sounds were tuned out of her head as her cape flowed in the cool air as the people passed her by, wondering why such a woman would be in this part of town. though it is what she knows. it’s her home, the place she grew up in. her darkened silver eyes hooded by her deeply furrowed eyebrows, she peered at the building that stood in front of her, across the busy street. it was something familiar to her, a place she’s seen ever so often if you’d ask her, but if you asked the people that walked the building’s floors—they’d tell you they’ve seen sevika so many times in a week.

she continued across the street, not paying attention to the many things happening around her, not even the people trying to sell her things.

sevika made her way to the building, watching it get larger in size the closer she stepped towards it. she cleared her throat and sniffed a bit before noticing the few women littering the corners of where she knew the people knew her very well. they began to puff y

on their cigarettes, blowing the toxic air into the already hazardous air supply that plagued the tough city. not only did the women watch her saunter in and notice her hips twisting with a purpose, they noticed the look on her face, one they’ve seen many times before.

“ugh, she’s so lucky.”

“nobody in zaun could get me to explain what i’d do to that woman.”

“ 𝜗𝜚 doesn’t deserve such a woman like that.”

the women scanned her body, getting worked up from just looking at her thighs and the visible muscle tone on her right arm, crossing their legs and continued to smoke down their cigarettes.

her ears perked up with the things the women were spewing about her, saying that they could do the things her heart desired. she could only chuckle as her large hands peeled back the large detailed door that opened up to the place she would kill to be in over and over again. the feathers and beads strung from the ceiling, the dark red curtains hanging from the curtains in the corners of the rooms she prance into, her eyes set on the desk in the waiting room. her hands balled and unballed, looking at her surroundings before perring down at the person standing behind the edge of the metal desk who was too busy staring down at a nudy magazine in his hands to notice sevika’s large frame.

half of her body covered by her darkened red cape, a peek of her toned stomach showing from the cropped shirt she sported. sevika cleared her throat, moving her flesh arm to retrieve a sack of money from her back pocket, plopping it down on the surface of the desk to grab the attention of the attendant. dark eyebrows furrowed even more when he moved his eyes only to see who was in front of him. he perked up really quickly, his eyes widening at sevika towering over his small physique.

“s-she said you don’t have to pay anymore.” he stuttered, pushing the sack of coins back towards sevika. her eyebrows finally softened since she’s walked into the place as she reached for the money, taking it in her soft hand again, grunting.

her boots clicked against the floor, the coins in the bag scraped up against each other while she twisted her arm to place it back in her pocket. still, her cape flowed in the air filling the building as sevika made her way to the room she’s seen a thousand times. one more look around at her surroundings, sevika slipped through the soft curtains that hung in front of the doorway, sniffing the burning incense that produced slow smoke. the deep umber smell covered her, sevika’s body relaxed a bit as the incense crammed her nose.

for the first time of the week, sevika’s eyebrows relaxed, finally unfurrowing until they straightened out on her forehead. her hand fell from the ball at her side, the mechanical sounds from her tech arm hiding underneath the cape ticked and the gears moved around.

sevika walked around the table covered in fruit, foods and other assortments that made her stomach rumble a bit. she quickly tore the cape from around her neck, flinging the piece of fabric onto the arm of the couch just before her ass hit the plush couch cushions. resting her arms over the top of the couch.

the mechanical fingers on her left arm tapped the material with impatience.

only a couple of minutes had passed since she walked into the building and sat down in the all too familiar room. peering around the decorated space, the things covering the walls and the touch of your presence was made known. sevika felt a little more at ease just seeing the things that you’ve touched littering the room you own in the building. she fell deeper into the couch cushions, adjusting her hips numerous times, her fleshy fingers digging further into the soft item.

her patience was very low when it came to you.

when she came, she expected you to be in the room already waiting for her. maybe even waiting on your knees, looking so pretty as always as soon as she walks through the curtains.

but, this has been the first time since she started seeing you that she was the first one in the room, and she needs you to be in here.

now.

when sevika first began to see you, it would be a week maybe even a couple of days before she saw you again. then, you did such a big number on her that sevika realized that she couldn’t go more than two days without coming to visit you. it started off as a week, then it went to three days, then fell into every night. if she was feeling a bit alone, she’d come to see you twice a day. but ever since silco had her under his hold, the visits became even more sparse, last week had been the longest it’s been since she’s seen your face.

sevika threw her head back against the couch, her fingers balling up the cushions and releasing it, over and over again. her eyes closed with anticipation, growing more and more impatient by the second. she mindlessly reached in front of her, grabbing one of the many fruits that sat on top of the table and pushing it past her dark lips. the flavors danced on her tongue, swirling over them inside of her cheeks, she moaned just a little bit. overly missing the flavors from a week ago.

“you look tired.”

you voice spilled into her ears, like chocolate spreading on a fresh strawberry. sevika lifted her head up, slowly opening her eyes to see you wrapped in a finely made robe, a small bit of fur lining the ends of each opening. finishing up the food that was in her mouth and quickly swallowing it. her chest heaved some, repositioning her hips in her seat.

sevika cleared her throat, mentally rolling her eyes at the fact that it should be obvious. “i am tired. why do you think i’m here?”

you pushed away from the closed curtains, making your way towards the couch with an irritated look on your face. sitting down on a cushion away from her, you grabbed a piece of fruit to pop in your mouth and leaned back to cross your leg over the other. you shook your head a bit, chewing the fruit and clutching at the opening of your robe. rolling your eyes and moving your leg side to side. sevika sighed, realizing that whatever goes on at work shouldn’t be taken out on you.

“i…i’m sorry. i’m just really, really tired.” she reached over to rub at the exposed skin on your thigh with her metal hand as you looked at her again. huffing and puffing you gave her a little smile knowing that she is really exhausted when she arrives to see you. so you have to let it go sometimes, if she doesn’t get too rude. she rubbed her mechanical pinky against your thigh, brushing away your robe a bit to touch more of your skin, though she couldn’t feel it.

sevika snaked her arms around your waist, pulling you into her lap and resting your thighs on either side of her hips. she couldn’t take her eyes off of the fact you had nothing covering your chest. no bra, no shirt, no nothing. the robe peeled open a bit, revealing the soft cleavage you wanted her to see.

her mouth watered at the sight of your boobs, nipples becoming hard under the silky material from the rushing wind coming from outside the room. she gulped down the lingering taste of the fruit that was in her mouth. both hands, mechanical and flesh, rubbed the skin on your thighs, digging her fingers into your own flesh. remembering how soft you were from a week ago that she saw you again.

a shudder ran down your spine from the mere two seconds you made eye contact with sevika, her silver eyes burning into yours, never once looking away until she saw fit.

you’ve looked into her eyes many times before, but every time you did, it still felt like the first time she walked into your room. just wanting to relax.

her stare made you wet in the little piece of clothing you had on, pooling through your painties and probably painting the pants she wore. sevika moved you higher up on her lap, her hands now resting on your ass just to move the robe some, watching as the silk opened up more to brush over your chest. sevika took her bottom lip in between her teeth, adjusting her hips underneath you, feeling like she could explode. she pushed on your back, pushing your chest closer to her mouth. her lips parted, ready to have your nipple resting in her mouth. you sucked in a sharp breath when you felt her tongue touch your nipple first, swirling it around the tip just to watch your face contort. her eyes couldn’t tear away from your face, watching your eyebrows knit together. sevika pulled away, with a sound off pop. you rubbed your hands over her clothed chest and up her neck to push her attention to your face. “did you miss me?”

you started grinding over her pants, heavily breathing at the feeling. she groaned at your little sounds, nodding her head at your question, but hating that you started to move backwards on her lap. as you could see the disappointment written all over her face and the little whine in her throat. “be patient, sev. you haven’t seen me in a week.”

sevika then sighed, her eyebrows rested when she felt your hands starting to work at the sturdy belt twisting through the loops in her pants. unbuckling the buckle and pulling the belt from the loops, you dropped it on the floor. you then reached for the button on her pants, not knowing she spotted the wet patch that you’ve made a little bit ago. “by the looks of it, you missed me too.”

you looked down at her and then down at the spot over her lap, a little embarrassed that she saw and hoping that she wouldn’t see the one you made on her thigh. brushing it off, you reached for the extravagant buttons on her cropped shirt she wore as sevika rubbed higher up your back. “how much did you miss me?”

there was a lump in your throat when she looked up at you, a mixture of neediness and want filled her eyes when she first got you on her lap. now, that look is filled with more want than ever. you hands still popping the buttons on her shirt and busting it open to see the wraps that usually bound her chest were not there tonight. a shudder ran down your spine, with her hands still caressing your skin, but her hands growing heavier and heavier by the second you didn’t give her an answer.

“a lot, sev.”

the right side of her mouth perked up into a smirk. a quick look down and sevika was drooling at your slightly exposed nipple, reaching up to swipe the robe off your shoulder. the sounds of her mechanical arm came into play as it moved in the comfortable silence while she looked you up and down. “so much that you can’t wait to taste me again?”

you whined when sevika whispered to you, the tip of her mechanical finger rubbing over your nipple. “yes, sev.”

throwing your head back, sevika took the opportunity to latch her lips onto the side of your neck, dropping spit over your skin and you threaded your fingers in the hanging hair on her head. she pulled back, bouncing against the couch to let you slip off of her lap and onto the floor on your knees. the zipper being pulled down on your way before you hooked your fingers in her waistband. sevika lifted her hips from the cushions to allow you to do the rest of the work of undressing her. the pants reached her knees just as she moved her upper body forwards to tease her dark lips over yours, finally after mere seconds she rested them against your lips harshly. quickly, going to slip her tongue past the opening of yours.

just as she was attacking you with her thick tongue, sevika was slipping her pants the rest of the way down her calves to the top of her boots. forcing the rest of her clothes off of her body, the thud of her hard shoes hitting the floor rung in your ears. her hands slithered around your jaw, both resting on the back of your head while her mouth bruised yours. sevika pulled herself away from you, she licked her lips to just remember the taste of you. she went back to resting her back against the couch again, spreading her thighs to allow you to see her glistening pussy. “go ahead, doll.”

you rested your arms over her thighs, mouth watering at the sight of a week of her being untouched and mindlessly licking your lips. your hands slid towards her inner thighs, close to where the heat emitted from her aching cunt. sevika moved herself closer to the edge of the couch when she saw the hunger fill your eyes. her hand rested on the back of your neck, bringing you closer as you flattened out your tongue to lick up from her clenching hole to her clit. a breathy sigh left from sevika’s lips, her mechanical fingertips dipping into the couch. you wrapped your lips around her clit, sucking softly to earn a buck from her hips against your face.

sevika huffed, gathering all of your hair in the palm of her hand, her fingers wrapping around like a ponytail holder. her hips began to rut at your mouth, her juices rubbing all over the bottom half of your face and rolling down your chin to reach your chest. she pulled your back just to see how much she covered you and to grow even more horny at the sight of her dripping over your bare boobs. your eyes pleaded with her to let you finish and she smirked again, realizing that you wanted it. “you like when i treat you like a slut, don’t you?”

she pushed your face against her pussy again, your tongue rubbing against her clit and hand creeping up to let your fingers make out how much she leaked from having you on your knees and face mushed in between her legs. your own cunt dripped with her words mixed with the euphoric taste of hers, you could help but to grind over the heel of your foot to relieve some of the pressure on your clit. sevika could feel you bouncing and moving under her, she looked down to see your eyes glued to her face and eyebrows screwed together. “you do. you like it when i treat you like this, you nasty girl.”

your face washed over with relief somehow, sevika getting a little more rougher with her ruts, her teeth gritting together and her breath picked up. it grew ragged, your fingers dipped in her hole, slipping in easily due to the slipperiness. sevika clenched on your middle and ring finger as it pumped slowly in and out with the feeling of your swollen lips wrapped around her clit. “ugh, fuck-you’re so good to me, doll.”

sevika’s breath shaky, her head rolling back to rest on the top of the couch. her mechanical arm grasping at the couch as her thighs were threatening to shut around your head. the openings of her shirt flailed around, her tits bounced a little bit.

she couldn’t do it anymore, she needed to taste you.

sevika popped your head off of her, pulling you away from her to glance at the news she’s made of you. she stood up from the couch, pulling you up with her to stand you up from your knees. before you knew it, her hands were all over you again, her lips covering yours and tasting herself off of your lips and chin. she reached up to slip the rest of the robe off of your shoulders. now slipping her thick fingers under the band of your panties, pushing them down your thighs with her mouth still attached to you. sevika turned the two of you around, you towards the couch before she pushed you over it, watching your body bounce before she dipped her knee into the cushion.

“a week. i’ve been waiting a week to taste you again,” her arms set on either side of your head, you reaching up to grab at the flaps of her open shirt. sevika began to push herself further down your body, placing open mouth kisses over your soft skin and witnessing your thighs pressing together. she then reached the place you needed her mouth most. “i don’t think i’ll stop.”

she rested on her knees, pulling your legs up from the couch and resting on her shoulders while she laid her body flat over the rest of the couch. sevika pulled your body closer to her mouth, hungry at what was to come. then proceeded to push your legs up off of her shoulders, sliding her hands underneath your bended knees, pinching the little bit of skin to distract you from the feeling of her warm tongue rolling over your drenched cunt. a deep, guttural groan emitted from her lips from the small but long lick, the vibration going right through you. you latched onto her arms, hoping to hang on for the ride as her face got deeper, drowning in your leaking juices.

the mechanical sounds of her gripping fingers and the sloshing of her tongue swiping over your wet folds filled the room, hitting and bouncing off every wall of it. sevika’s grip wrapped tighter, her hold pinched your hot skin while her moved side to side. both of her hands released from their tight grip, the slight red marks left as a result as sevika repositioned to different spots on your body. the warming touch of her copper hand wrapped around your boob, twisting your nipple around and squeezing hard enough to where it was enjoyable for you. her lips still brushing your clit when you felt the thick stretch of her two fingers pressing through your hole, already knowing you were on edge. “oh, baby, you taste s’good. clenching my fingers like the slut you are.”

the walls couldn’t stop the throaty moan you let out, already knowing the people outside could hear what was happening in the room. you held onto the metal reaching over your torso and fondling your tit as her fingers sped up, making you bounce as she pressed against your spongy walls. “sev-!”

“what, baby?” her silver eyes peered up at you, her pussy leaking over the couch cushions just at the look of your face mixing with the taste of your own.

her eyes bored into you, her fingers pumped harder and her lips sucked harder. sevika looked down for a bit to witness the white ring forming at the base of her two fingers. “fuck.”

a muffled word came out of her mouth, so infatuated with your sounds, your taste — you. the grip, once again, grew tighter around your bruised tit, her arm holding you down in your place. you hands weaved through her black and short hair, messing it up and reaching the small ponytail on the back of her head, pulling on the rubber band. releasing her pulled back hair into her face.

“please, sev!” sevika pulled from your clit, looking at you through the strands of hair as her fingers continued to pump and slosh your wetness around.

“what? you wanna cum?” she smashed her lips against your inner thigh, sucking and biting in random spots on your skin. “you can take it.”

“i can’t!” you tried squirming, tried to pull your body away from sevika’s mouth and fast fingering. your toes curling in the air and your eyes screwed shut, your hands everywhere.

“yes you can.” her tongue licking the bitten spots on your thigh, smirking at your whining.

you could feel her fingers at the bottom of your stomach, tempting your body to cum all over her fingers. just as you could feel the build up, sevika slipped her fingers out of you, her metal hand still wrapped around your red tit. your eyes popped open, whipping your head down to see what she was doing. sevika slithered her tongue around her own fingers, heavy breathing at the sweet taste of your wanna be cum covering her fingers and making sure each finger was sucked clean. you just watched her get up on her knees again, pushing her hair back from her eyes and shaking the open shirt from her shoulders, letting it drop over the edge of the couch. you saw where the metal met her flesh, her dark nipples hardening under the air, her very toned abdomen tight with muscle and glistening sweat.

the sight filled your mouth with drool, sevika fully naked in front of you — it was a rare sight and you didn’t want it to end.

sevika crawled over your body, dropping down some to ghost her weight over yours, her nipples traced your own, a little whine spilling past your lips. sevika dropped kisses over your face, over your cheeks, over your chin before reaching your swollen lips. her hand slipped under the back of your neck to deepen the kiss she slipped you into, smacking and exchanging groans between the two of you. saliva covered your lips, even some in your chin from how messily sevika kissed you, covering your tongue with the remnants of you on her tongue and lips. you rested your legs over her hips, rubbing one of your hands over her back, drowning in the mesmerizing sensation of her mouth in yours.

feelings sevika spread her legs a bit, she dug her knees into the cushions below, feeling you gasp with her mouth still on yours when she rested her puffy clit against yours. shuddering as she laid her body weight on you, now her hand tangled in your hair and the metal entangled with your free hand.

sevika pulled away, looking your face over as she tutted her hips, grinding your clit together and watching your face. your eyebrows slanted, a look of tenderness filled her eyes as she looked at you but disappeared as soon she rutted again. another rutt and a grip on your hair tightened around her fingers, her hips found a steady speed, grinding in between yours. “shit.”

the dripping wetness flowed down sevika’s cunt, over your folds just indicating how wet she actually was. sevika rested her face in the crook of your neck, opening her mouth to nip her teeth at the skin. your back arched into her, opening your legs more to feel even more of sevika humping away. unbeknownst to you, sevika’s face contorted and twisted up at the pleasure of feeling your clit against hers.

“fuck, sev.” your voice above a whisper, your nails digging into her skin and scratching down towards her bare ass. you could feel the simultaneous bucking of both of yours hips smashing together as sevika grew tired of the slower movements.

her mechanical arm worked overtime, the fingers wrapping tighter around your own just so she could stay grounded of course. in your ear, sevika’s grunts turned into deep moans, almost overshadowing the ones you belted out. you opened your eyes multiple times, but all you could see was stats and little white dots in your vision made you dizzy. you tried desperately to claw at any and everything on sevika’s body that you could reach.

“sev, harder!”

she smirked in neck, grounding her knees into the couch once more and hardened up her grip on both the back of your neck and your hand. your legs rested and dangled on her hips, toes curling at the long awaited sensation. more of sevika dripped down your pussy, mixing with the wetness of yours. “harder, you say?”

“yes please.” it was almost like she took your breath away, you couldn’t talk too loudly but those moans you provided said otherwise.

your eyes popped open when sevika’s grind slipped your clits together even harder, letting you feel the tight ball that formed in your stomach. then, your toes uncurled, needing to feel the couch underneath them, you set one of your legs down. still bent at the knee, your leg cramped just to keep up with hoe sevika was fucking you into the cushions. “ah-shit, i’m gonna cum.”

the hand that held onto sevika perked up, rushing your fingers through her loose hair and to bring her face closer to yours so you could witness the expressions she made. the black hair on her head fell into her face, still able to see your beautiful face through the threads. she dropped her head down, craning her neck to press her lips over yours again, both of you mumbling and moaning incoherents into each other’s mouths.

“cum with me, baby.” you nodded against her, mouth open wide to let the whines slip out.

sevika’s hips wouldn’t stop at nothing to say the least. she wanted to make sure you were right there with her. you couldn’t handle it anymore when she continued to slip her wetness around with you. your hips bucked up, contributing to the pleasure for both of you. your stomach grew tighter with your release and you didn’t want to hold it anymore. “sevika. . .”

“go ahead, i’m right b-behind you.” her eyes, again, bored into yours with so much lust it was crazy. you knotted your eyebrows together just as she did the same thing as she knew you were both about to cum.

there was a flash of white with the last buck of sevika’s hips, going straight to your head. her guttural moan filled the room, intertwining with yours while you released a high pitched pleasure-filled scream. her hips slowed in movement, while yours continued to buck at the sensitivity of your puffy, swollen fucked-out clit. sevika dipped her head back down, covering your lips and face in more hot kisses before dropping her complete weight over you.

your hands threaded through her hair, brushing it out of her face as her eyes fluttered shut, her head rubbing against your chest.

you shared the intense silence. the room is stuffy and sweaty, and sevika nustling away at the warmth of you.

“you don’t want me to pay you anymore?”

your lips tightened, knowing she was going to bring this up, you shook your head side to side while your eyes almost dared to close. “why not?”

shoulders shrugging, “i don’t think you need to.”

sevika’s eyes opened for a moment, looking over the parts of your body that she could see without moving her head. blinking a couple of times, she pursued her lips out, kissing the tender skin on your boob before sneaking her right arm under you to keep you pressed to hers. “okay.”

© rkivedpages. j4y’s works are all reserved. i do not give permission to have my works copied or published on any other sites under any other names but mine.

[monkeyssalad-blog]

1959 Sheer Girlie Pin-Up Cheesecake Magazine by Vinnie DeVille Via Flickr: Vintage 1959 issue of men’s girlie cheesecake pin-up magazine, Sheer. Sleezy, cheesy and a real “rag”. It’s always a thrill when it’s from Vinnie DeVille!

[fallstaticexit]

Prev / Next / Beginning

Trigger Warning: Homophobic Insult ('lesbo' used as an insult) / Virginity-shaming / Transcript / AN under the cut

Record player plays Donna Summer's Try Me, I Know We Can Make It - On The Radio: Greatest Hits Volumes I & II /

AN: I made a personal edit of this Playboy magazine stack for the magazine used in this scene.

Transcript:

[Just like that, Vanessa had become the brightest star in my universe]

[She was warm, vibrant and intense, like the sun.]

[and I was a withered sunflower]

[like a sunflower, I craved the feel of her heat on my skin]

[I’d turn to face her in any direction]

[ and I bloomed when she looked at me]

[If only her gaze was mine alone to keep]

[jovial chatter]

[Vanessa squeals]

Nina: Gee, save some boys for the rest of us, right Nance?

Dina: Where did you get nudie mags from, VV?!

Vanessa: Hush! Don’t get us caught, dumb-dumb. I have my ways. Look, check this out.

Nina: [whistles] Meeoow. Where’s the beef.

Vanessa: Yeah, where is the beef? Kinda small...

Dina: That’s small? What are you, a fucking cavern? He’s packing!

Vanessa: [cackling] Ha! No way! This is big? I knew Don was a shrimp boy!

Dina: You did NOT just say that! Don is not a shrimp boy! Stop laughing!

Nina: Sometimes the bush makes it look smaller, right VV?

Vanessa: Nancy, get over here! What do you think? Packin‘ or lackin’?

Nancy: O-oh..um...I don’t know. I’ve never really seen one before.

Dina: Oh, brother. We got a cherry girl over here.

Nina: [snorts] No wonder she’s so stiff. Anyway, next page, VV.

Vanessa: Hmm. Nah. Think I’ll keep them all to myself. Come on, Nancy.

Dina: [scoffs] There she goes, picking her side again. She’s not a baby, VV! We were just joking!

[Still, at the end of the day, she chose me over all of them]

Record player plays Donna Summer's On The Radio: Greatest Hits Volumes I & II

I just wanna feel your body close to mine I just wanna share your loving, baby All the time, ooh Oh try me, try me, try me, try me just one time

Nina: God forbid I want to actually study tonight.

Vanessa: Go study in Nancy’s room!

Nina: What the fuck! This is my room too!

Vanessa: And I’m hanging out with Nancy before lights out.

Nina: You don’t own this school! I can be in my own damn room. Tell Nancy to leave!

Vanessa: I do, actually and I don’t want her to leave.

Nancy: I-I’ll just go-

Vanessa: No, Nina can go to her sister’s room if she wants peace and quiet. I’m sure she’s not in there. We all know she sneaks over to Don’s to blow his little shrimp.

Nina: Oh, whatever! You two can be gross lesbos all you want.

Vanessa: Yeah, the only lesbo in here is you!

[door slam]

Nancy: ...I feel like Dina and Nina hates me.

Vanessa: Screw them. They’re just jealous.The only reason they can afford to go here is because my father gave their father a job. Come on, I want to do your makeup.

Vanessa: Why do let them talk shit to you? I feel like if you really wanted to, you could put them in their place.

Nancy: I just want to do my time so I can get out of here. I don’t want trouble.

Vanessa: [hums] You make this place sound like a prison.

Nancy: No, not just here. I mean...from everything. From my parents. From my life. I guess I’m just scared if I go too far...I’d end up like my brother.

Vanessa: Hey. You’re going to go far and you’re going to be great. And if you still want to be my friend when we’re old, then we can laugh at all the miserable losers who wanted to see us fail from our million dollar yacht.

Nancy: I’ll always want to be your friend, Vanessa.

Vanessa: [squeals] You’re sooo stinkin’ cute, Nance!

Nancy: [giggles]

[soft snoring]

[munson-blurbs]

Hi darling sister wife! I have a request for a bookworm!reader who always has her nose in a book and has a huge crush on Eddie, but thinks he doesn’t even know she’s alive. And maybe they run into each other somewhere in town and he’s like “oh hey y/n!” and she’s dumbfounded lol

Love youuuuu - @corroded-hellfire

Anything for you, bb 💚

Warnings: none, all fluff <3

WC: 3.8 k

--

There’s a lump in your throat as you approach the wooden door marked “DETENTION” in scolding letters. You’ve never been in trouble before, always keeping your head down and doing the right thing. 

But that was before you’d started reading The Handmaid’s Tale. You’d picked up the novel in the school library that morning, curious to see what all of the fuss was about. It was so gripping, so eerie, so chilling, that you didn’t want to put it down. And so you didn’t—you read it in the halls when walking between classes, during lunch as your friends talked about their prom dresses, even faking cramps during PE so you could sit on the bleachers and continue devouring Margaret Atwood’s words. None of that posed any issues. 

You were nearly finished with the entire book by the time last period rolled around. Mrs. Click was droning on and on about the Enlightenment and its influence on European culture. It wasn’t anything the textbook didn’t already explain. How bad would it be to quickly read the final chapter in an incredible book while she yammered about a continent you didn’t even live on?

As you soon discovered, it would be pretty bad. Mrs. Click marched over to you as you tried to hunch down inconspicuously. She plucked the book from your hands and frowned. “Tell me, Ms. Y/L/N,” she’d snapped, never breaking eye contact with you, “what makes you so special that you can select your own reading material during my class?”

You could only shake your head, heat rising in your cheeks. “‘M sorry, Mrs. Click,” you mumble. Other students snicker around you, and you hear someone whisper, “what a nerd.”

“Well,” your teacher starts, placing The Handmaid’s Tale on her already-cluttered desk, “maybe you can come up with a better answer after detention this afternoon.” You nodded dumbly, too humiliated to protest the punishment. 

The worst part? She never even gave you back the book. 

Fingers trembling, you push the door open and take a seat all the way in the back. You’re the only one there; maybe you can avoid any further embarrassment if it stays that way. You take out your math textbook and start on the first problem, barely able to concentrate. Detention. It shouldn’t be such a big deal, but you hate getting in trouble. Hate having people mad at you, even if that person is your uppity history teacher. It’s why you’re such a goody two-shoes, a people pleaser; you just want everything to be peaceful. 

“Honey, I’m home!” a familiar voice calls out. Your head snaps up to see Eddie Munson burst through the doorway. There’s a loose cigarette tucked behind his ear, almost completely covered by his mess of curly hair. His grin widens as he spots you. “Hey, Y/N! What brings you to my home away from home?”

Your mouth goes dry. Eddie Munson knows who you are? The handsome, charismatic, sometimes scary-seeming metalhead knows your name? You clear your throat when you realize he’s staring at you expectantly, waiting for a response. “Oh, um, nothing. Jus’ something stupid,” you manage, picking at your fingernails anxiously. 

“Yeah, well, I’m the king of doing stupid things, so, lay it on me.” He sits on top of the desk in front of you, leaning his forearms on his thighs. 

The blush creeps back up through your body. “I got busted in Click’s class for reading.”

Eddie furrows his brows in confusion. “Reading what?” he questions. “Like, a nudie magazine or somethin’? That happened to me once, and Click was pissed. Never did get that magazine back either. What a shame.” He tuts gently at the memory. 

“God, no!” You shake your head. “It was a book I was reading for fun. And not that kind of fun,” you add pointedly. “It was, um, The Handmaid’s Tale? The novel by Margaret Atwood?” It comes out as a question, and you could smack yourself for your timid disposition. “It’s about a group of women—the handmaids—who are essentially forced to be these birthing machines for their owners. Their entire worth is based on making healthy babies. And if they try to escape, the men of Gilead will hurt them.” Shut up, you scold yourself silently. He didn’t ask you for a damn book report. 

But Eddie looks intrigued. “Well, that’s no Playboy, but it sounds really good. I’ll have to read it when you’re done.”

“That might not be for awhile,” you reply somberly. “Much like your Playboy, my book has been confiscated, unlikely to ever be returned.”

Eddie smacks his palms on his knees, startling you, but he pays this no mind. “I’ll be right back,” he says. “If Higgins comes in, tell him I had to take a leak.” And with that, he’s out the door. 

What is going on? You thrum your fingers against the desk, considering your circumstances. You’re in detention with Eddie Munson, having a conversation about The Handmaid’s Tale. Never in your wildest dreams did you think this would happen. 

Eddie returns triumphantly. “Ta-da!” he exclaims, holding up the novel in his left hand. He places it on your desk and smiles. “Now you can finish it.”

“My hero,” you put your hand over your heart and grin back at him. Butterflies flutter in your stomach. “Like the Robin Hood of books.”

“Robin Hood, huh?” he smirks, sliding into the chair next to yours, “I’ll take it. Better nickname than ‘The Freak,’ anyway.”

You frown, averting your gaze as you say softly, “I never called you that. And I never thought you were a freak, either.”

“‘Course not,” Eddie chuckles, nudging you with his shoulder. “‘Cause you’re a freak, too.” He laughs harder when you scoff. “C’mon, Y/N. Who else gets detention for reading?”

“Fair enough,” you concede. “Why are you here?”

“Besides this basically being my permanent residency? Um, I got caught cutting class? Or smoking in the bathroom? Or maybe it was because I flipped off Jason Carver in the cafeteria? I can’t remember what this one was, honestly. They all just kinda…blur together.” He waves his hand nonchalantly. 

“One more question,” you start. “How do you, um, how do you know my name?” You took all honors and Advanced Placement classes, and Eddie…well, he certainly did not. 

He gives you an astonished look. “You really don’t remember?” He continues when you shake your head bashfully. “You interviewed Corroded Coffin for the school newspaper last year! I invited you to come to the Hideout and see us in action, but you never showed.”

“Oh, yeah.” It comes back to you now. You’d been all dressed and ready to go, but your mom went ballistic at the thought of you in a dive bar. “I tried, but my parents are really strict.”

“So then don’t tell them!” Eddie says simply. “Just say you’re going to the library or something.”

“At 10 pm?” you raise your eyebrows. “If this is your idea of being clever, it’s no wonder you keep failing senior year!”

His jaw drops at your teasing. “And here I thought you were nice. Y’know what?” He scrunches up his face and eyes your desk. “I’m takin’ my book back!” And with that, he swipes it and clutches it to his chest. 

“Eddie!” you shriek, giggling as you grab at the paperback, only to have him jerk away in response. “Stop!”

“Hmm…nope!” Eddie shakes his head, unruly curls brushing his cheeks. “This is a lot more fun for me.” He stands up and holds the book above his head. 

You jump up a few times to try and snatch it back, to no avail. As a last resort, you jut out your lower lip in a pout. “Please?”

He uses his free hand to tap his finger on his chin. “What’s the magic phrase?” 

“What?”

“Fine, I’ll help you out,” he sighs, feigning exasperation. “It’s ‘Eddie Munson is the smartest, most handsome man in the world.’”

You begrudgingly repeat the sentence, grumbling it under your breath. But Eddie still doesn’t hand over the book. “I said it!” you groan. “You gotta give it back!”

“Oh, did I forget to mention part two?” There’s a mischievous glint in his deep brown eyes. “Now you have to say, ‘And because I heartlessly ditched his concert last year, I will make it up to him by letting him take me out tonight.”

“Me?” You can’t hide the shock in your voice. “Are you joking?” Why would Eddie Munson want to take a shy little bookworm out? He probably had outgoing, boisterous girls fawning all over him at his shows. Girls who didn’t care whether or not they got mommy and daddy’s permission to go to a bar. 

“‘M dead serious, sweetheart.” Eddie gives you a soft smile. “Don’t say anything, because it’ll totally ruin my reputation as Hawkins’ evil cult leader, but I also love to read.” He reaches into his backpack and pulls out a tattered copy of The Hobbit. “This one is my absolute favorite. I re-read it, like, once a month.”

“I should’ve known you were a nerd,” you muse, looking up at him through your lashes innocently. “Honestly, the whole Dungeons & Dragons thing should’ve given it away.”

Eddie gently bops you on the head with his book. “So, whaddya say to that date?” He’s trying to sound confident, but you catch him nervously playing with the rings that adorn his fingers. 

“I’d love to,” you answer honestly, heart fluttering as he takes your hand in his. 

“Great! Let’s go!” He tugs you out of your seat, but you shift your weight so you sink back down. He looks at you, puzzled. 

“We can’t just leave!” you gesture to the detention room. “I don’t wanna get in more trouble.” The last thing you need is another round of Click-induced humiliation. 

“Why not?” Eddie asks. “No one comes in here. I usually just use this time to work on my lyrics, even though I’m supposed to think about what I’ve done.” He lowers his voice an octave and wiggles his fingers at the last part, making you giggle. 

“You’re a bad influence, Eddie Munson,” you say, but you oblige. You tip-toe behind him, keeping a watchful eye out for straggling teachers or—God forbid—Principal Higgins. Eddie doesn’t let go of your hand until you reach his van, opening the passenger side door with a quick bow. 

“Ladies first,” he grins, shuffling to the driver’s side and starting the car. It backfires at first, startling you, but he gets the engine to turn over on the second try. “Sorry, my Jaguar is in the shop.”

“Of course,” you reply in a posh accent. “They just don’t make cars the way they used to.” You lean over to turn the radio dial, spinning past Eddie’s favorite station and straight for your own. Stevie Nicks’s voice wafts from the speakers as a Fleetwood Mac song plays. 

“You’re really lucky you’re cute,” he tells you, flashing his signature smirk, “or I’d be totally pissed that you changed Ozzy for this.” If he’s being honest with himself, he doesn’t think that you could do anything to anger him. You watch as his strong hand grips the gearshift, throwing the van in reverse. He reaches behind your seat as he backs up, tongue poking out in concentration. 

You can’t stop the smile that blossoms on your face at the compliment. Eddie Munson thinks I’m cute. The thought buzzes through your body like a hyperactive bumblebee. You try to push it away, mumbling, “Where are we going?”

“D’you trust me?” He threads his fingers through yours, and you feel yourself heat up despite the coolness of his metal rings. 

“Not in the slightest,” you tease him again, offering your sweetest smile. “After all, the last time you did something nice for me, it ended with you holding my book hostage. Which you still have, by the way.” 

Eddie squeezes your hand affectionately. “Fair enough.” But he doesn’t give you any further information, just sings along with the radio despite his initial protests. It’s melodic and relaxing, and you find yourself staring at the way his soft lips move as he recites the lyrics and uses his forefinger to keep the tempo against the steering wheel. “Okay, y’caught me.” He breathes out a small laugh. “I kinda like their stuff. I mean, I wouldn’t spend money for their concerts, but I don’t mind it if there’s nothing else on. Or if a pretty girl wants to listen to them.” This time, he notices the way you hide behind your hair at his words. “C’mon now; don’t get all shy just because someone called you ‘pretty.’”

But he’s not someone; he’s Eddie. He’s the guy you’ve had a crush on for far too long, and he stole your book back from Mrs. Click, asked you on a date, snuck you out of detention, held your hand, and complimented you repeatedly—all within the span of thirty minutes. 

“I was really upset earlier about getting detention,” you confess, steering the conversation away from your timidness and relentless crush on Eddie. “But you cheered me up and, um, that meant a lot to me.”

“Glad I could be of service,” he says, tipping an invisible hat. “But take it from me—detention isn’t the end of the world. Especially since you rarely ever get it.”

“Never,” you correct him. 

“Huh?”

“I’ve never gotten detention. Until today.” You feel childish admitting it. Senior year of high school and this is the only time you broke the rules—and in such a geeky way, too. 

“Well, it was an honor to witness you pop your detention cherry.” The phrasing makes you burst out with laughter, and you clap your free hand over your mouth. “Don’t do that,” he says softly, letting go of the hand he’s holding to nudge the one that’s pressed to your lips. “You have a nice laugh.” He pulls into a parking lot, finding the nearest spot before killing the engine. 

“No way,” you whisper, gazing at the building. You’d figured he would take you out for pizza or s movie, but this is even better. “Eddie, did you bring me to a bookstore?” 

He nods proudly. “This one has a little café inside, if you want a coffee or something.” He takes your hand again as you both stride towards the shop. “Pick out a book—it’s on me. Paperback, hardcover—whatever you want.”

“Hardcover? You really know how to spoil a girl, Munson.” Your tone is joking, but there’s truth to it. You normally only splurge for hardcover books when you have a gift card. You peruse the aisles, trying to quickly scan the spines for something that catches your eye. It wouldn’t be out of character for you to spend hours searching for the perfect book, but you didn’t want to drag Eddie along on a boring date. 

“Let me grab us something to drink,” Eddie says as you start towards the ‘thrillers’ section. “How do you take your coffee?” You give him your order and promise to meet him by the café in a few minutes. “No rush,” he assures you, and he kisses your cheek quickly before ducking away and heading for the barista. 

There’s a whole display dedicated to Stephen King, and you check out the offerings before settling on Firestarter. You’ve been meaning to read it, and now is the perfect chance to snatch it up. Before you go to the café, you wander over to the fantasy section. If Eddie likes Lord of the Rings, you’re sure to find another book he’ll enjoy here. Anne Rice’s Interview with a Vampire stands out; it’s dark and gothic and seems perfect for him. Pulling off the shelf, you make a stop at the cash register before joining him at the café. At a quick glance, you can see he’s chatting with the barista, so you sneakily pay for your gift to him, promising the cashier that you’ll be back to pay for Firestarter. He doesn’t seem too worried, and you flounce over to your date with a wide smile. 

Eddie’s sitting at a table for two. There’s a steaming cup of coffee in front of each place setting, with a slice of chocolate cake and two plastic forks in the center. “Figured we could use something sweet,” he says nonchalantly, as though he didn’t just have a small panic attack trying to decide between flavors. His brows furrow when he notices the bag in your hand. “Hey, I said I was treating you to a book!” he whines. 

“Don’t worry, I have my choice right here,” you tell him, flashing the paperback. “This is from me to you.” 

He takes the bag curiously, sticking his hand in without looking. The tip of his tongue brushes against his upper lip, much like it did in the van, as he dramatically rifles through, conveniently ignoring the fact that there’s only one item in there. After a solid ten seconds of that, he fishes out the book. 

“Have you read it? Like, do you already own it? Because I can return it right there,” you blabber, motioning to where the bored cashier is twiddling his thumbs, “if you don’t want it. And you can pick out something else.”

“Hey, hey,” Eddie says softly, cupping your chin with his left hand. “I love it, okay? I haven’t read it yet, but I want to.” He plops down on the chair as you slide into yours, relieved. “In fact, maybe I’ll read it right now.” He opens to the first page, and you giggle as his eyes scan the words. “Oh, I’m being rude, aren’t I?” He fakes innocence, making you laugh harder. “My apologies. I’ll read aloud so you can listen.” He starts speaking in his deep, dramatic Dungeon Master voice. Although he’s trying to be silly, there’s something comforting about having him read to you. You almost don’t want him to stop, sipping from your mug and drinking in the sound of him. 

He slams the book shut and gently places it back in the bag. “So, besides read and piss off Click, what do you like to do for fun?” he asks, digging his fork into the cake slice and taking a bite. “Holy shit, this is delicious.”

You take another swallow of coffee. There’s still a hint of bitterness to it, just the way you like it. “I write for the school newspaper. Mostly just reporting on school events, student council budget reports…” 

“And entertainment?” Eddie finishes. 

“Huh?”

“Writing the entertainment section? Isn’t that why you interviewed us last year?” he adds, pushing the cake towards you as an invitation. You oblige, answering his question before eating. 

“Oh,” you mumble, keeping your gaze trained on the confection. “I don’t normally do that, but I asked Nancy if I could cover it that week.”

“Oh?” He’s intrigued, and you’re grateful for the mouthful of cake when he follows up with, “And why is that?”

You chew carefully, probably more times than necessary while you consider your response. Fuck it; we’re already on a date. “Kinda had a crush on their lead guitarist-slash-vocalist,” you say shyly, “and I always wanted to talk to him but couldn’t work up the courage to do it, like, normally.”

Eddie crosses his arms and leans back, smiling proudly. “So you hid behind the guise of your work to flirt with me?” He lets out a soft whistle. “And here I thought you had journalistic integrity.” He puts his hand over yours once again, rubbing his thumb over it rhythmically. “S’okay, because I totally have a crush on this reporter.”

“Fred Benson?” you joke. 

Pouting, Eddie pulls the slice of cake directly in front of him. “Y’know what? You’ve lost your dessert privileges for being such a mean date.” To emphasize his point, he takes a giant bite while glaring at you. Chocolate frosting smears on his lips. “Do I have something on my face?” he asks when he catches you staring at his mouth. 

“Actually, yes.” You start to lean over with a paper napkin in hand, but decide against it, bringing your lips to his. He tastes like sugar from the cake, burnt caramel from the coffee, and clove from his cigarettes, and your stomach flip-flops when he brings his hand to your cheek and deepens the kiss. “Mmm, my favorite,” you manage when you break away. 

“What? Me or the chocolate?” Eddie asks, eyes blown wide just from a simple kiss. 

You smile, biting your lower lip. “Right now? The cake, because you still haven’t given me back the book you stole in detention.”

He throws his head back and sighs. “But if I don’t hold your book hostage, how can I secure that second date?”

You brush a lock of hair out of his face. “What if I told you that you already have?” He looks genuinely astonished, so you elaborate. “Eddie, this is the best date I’ve ever had. I can’t think of the last time I was this happy.”

The handsome metalhead reaches into his worn backpack and takes out the book. “You probably already figured this out, but flattery works with me, so…” 

You grab it victoriously. “Thank you,” you chirp, stowing it away before he can take it back. Eddie grins at you, just enjoying being in your company. 

“I kinda have a little confession of my own,” he says quietly. You pinch your eyebrows together in confusion. “I, um, I didn’t have detention today.” 

“Then why—” 

“Saw you sitting there alone, and I wanted to talk to you. I keep lookin’ for you in the cafeteria so I can ask you to eat with us, but I never see you.” 

You clear your throat. “Yeah, I-I like to eat in the library. It’s quieter there.” And you don’t have to deal with Jason Carver and his posse picking on you, but you withhold that information. 

Eddie looks at you inquisitively. “I thought you couldn’t eat in the library.” He raises his brows. “You little rebel. Sneaking food in the library, reading for fun during class…” He trails off and chuckles. “You’re always welcome at our table. I’d really like it if you sat with us, actually.” 

“Okay,” you agree easily. “I’d really like that, too.” You kiss him again and again, stopping only to indulge in coffee or cake. 

Maybe getting detention isn’t so bad, after all. 

--

[atomicbland]

Just A Mirage Pt. 3

Sorry this took so long yall! Anways here's part 3, my first ever spicey scene. did i mention i have an intox kink (this fic is practically dedicated to the gorgeous @ghoulphile at this point)

pairings: cooper howard x fem!reader rating: 18+ MDNI! warnings: bondage, degradation, pet names, mentions of age gap (obviously), Cooper Howard being a jackass in general, canon typical chem use, smoking AO3 Link

Golden morning light pours through the dirty filter of the windows, stirring you awake. As sleep left you you could feel the weight of Dogmeat curled up atop you. You pet her, forgiving her for scratching you, after all, she was too damn cute to stay mad at. You shift to see that the Ghoul was still sound asleep, his hat had fallen to the floor during the night, the scarred skin of his head on show for the whole world to gawk at. You decide to leave him be as it had been a long day yesterday and this was the first time in a while the two of you had safe lodging to relax in.

As quietly as possible you rise from your makeshift bed and creep past the sleeping ghoul, cautious not to let him stir or else you’d have a man and his dog up your ass all day earlier than you would’ve preferred. You gather your bag, holding it to your chest to muffle the rattle of contents and tiptoe your way back towards the glass house. Dogmeat follows behind you as if she were taking over the cowboy’s guard duty shift. 

It’s much easier to see in the glass house in the morning, you find a table next to the door stacked with boxes- something you hadn’t seen in the dim light yesterday. Nosey, you pilfer through the stack. Your years in the wasteland have taught you to never leave any box unchecked, loot was anywhere if you were lucky enough. The first few boxes were filled with faded papers, letters, diary pages, and some newspaper clippings with coupons for Nuka Cola, nothing really special or too important. In the next box, you find a small square tin, rust spots freckle the red lacquered surface, when you open it you’re rather surprised to see it half full, with a pipe nestled in the dried tobacco. You stash it in your bag, half considering giving it to the Ghoul in hopes he’d lighten up around you. Rifling through the rest of the box yields you some more canned water, Nuka Cola, and some nudie magazines filled with scantily clad women gardening. While you rather keep going through the boxes you didn’t want the Ghoul waking up to you missing lest you end up back on his leash. You found some more straw-berries closer to the entrance, picking some in hopes it’ll deter your greedy travel companion from breaking into your stash of food. Dogmeat, who had been in full guard mode sitting facing the door perked up when you moved toward the exit,  you tossed a straw-berry her way as the two of you walked back to the living room. 

“Had fun without me darlin’?” The Ghoul is upright on the sofa. his cheek was fat with his bullets as he spit-shined the barrel of his gun. He looks up at you through his lashes, spitooning a bullet in the palm of his hand before reloading. You’ve noticed his nervous habit, his mouth needed to be busy. If he wasn't using it to talk shit it was doing something else, smoking a cigarette, huffing chems, chewing on a piece of ass jerky, or sometimes sucking on the sweet lead of a bullet. And while you would think twice to put any form of ammo in your mouth -considering in the wasteland some people’s nervous habit involved stabbing- you didn't have much grounds to judge him.

“I was searching that place where I found the berries. Here.” You pull the red tobacco tin from your bag and hand it to the ghoul. 

He opens it and smiles, removing the pipe from the tin to examine it. He sticks the cavity of his nose into the tin, taking a sharp inhale. His exhale laced with excitement. “Now that's some top-shelf shelf dumb luck you got there sweetheart.” 

You ignore his backhanded compliment, fidgeting in place. You muster the courage to ask him to help you harvest some of the apples from the trees. You hated asking for help when it came to reaching anything since most men took it as an invitation to show off their size compared to you. The Ghoul stood a good foot over you, often having you hide behind him in sketchy situations knowing any foe would attack the smaller target first.  

“There’s more stuff back there,” you clear your throat, “I just can't reach everything.” 

“Well,” he spits the last bullet straight into the chamber with skilled accuracy, spinning it closed and returning the gun to its holster. “I ain't never been one to turn down a damsel in distress.” 

Dumb luck my ass. You think to yourself as you hold your breath to avoid inhaling the dank moldy air of the storage room. You could hear the Ghoul’s heavy footfalls from behind as he slowly scanned the shelves of the room, able to see much better in the dim light that poured through the door to the oasis.

It's almost blinding when you break free into the glass house, the morning light a gleaming beacon of life among the wasteland. You drank in the picture in front of you, it was a lush paradise filled with shades of emerald, and more plants than you had ever seen in one place threatened to burst through the windows. 

A low ragged chuckle from behind broke your stupor. You turn to look at the Ghoul, his hand habitually placed on his holster the other gripped the bandolier that slung across his shoulders a large grin plastered across his face. "Well, I'll be fucked." 

Ignoring him, you make your way to one of the closer apple trees. The bark was as warped and pockmarked as your cocky companion, branches splayed in every direction and littered with supersized apples ever so slightly out of your reach. Too engrossed in sizing up your woody opponent you don’t hear the gravel crunch behind you, the large gloved hand that claps down on your shoulder, startling you.

 “Ain't you the luckiest lil lady this side of the wasteland.” His hand slides down to rest on your hip, pulling you close as if to comfort you. The heat from his hand finds its way from your hip to your core, pooling between your thighs as you long for his touch to become more. You tilt your head up, meeting the rich hazel eyes of the monster behind you. You watch as his free hand reaches up into the branches, leaves rustling in protest as he plucks an apple with ease. 

“Two hours. Be back at this spot.” He mummers, sliding the apple into your hands. His palm lingers at your hip, and it may have been your imagination but you swear you feel his fingers curl ever so slightly as if to pull you closer. 

You break from his touch, your body on fire from where his hands were. Embarrassingly frustrated you venture into the foliage of the glass house, willing your mind to focus on finding supplies rather than linger on the fantasies the Ghoul kept dangling in front of you.

You had managed to make it to the other end of the glass house without coming across even a stray radroach. Alive at least. The remains of the beasts were still fresh, and Dogmeat, who continued to serve as your dutiful guardian while the Ghoul was out of eyeshot, lapped up the viscous bug goo like a hot meal on a cold night. The back end resembled a small study, short bookcases filled with tomes in various states of decay.

Withered crates, that had long been looted lay scattered around an ancient desk consumed by overgrowth. Despite the empty state of the crates, the desk remained untouched, drawers swollen shut with time and humidity. With some effort and prying with your knife, you break open the drawers of the worn and misshaped desk the contents spilling out onto the ground with a plume of dust. A rather large book sat atop the pile the worn cover read “Victory Vick’s Garden Guide: Sowing the Seeds of the Future!” Thumbing through the pages, each one contained illustrations of all sorts of plants with long blocks of text describing everything you could ever need to know about it, which plants would survive or even thrive in nuclear fallout, how to grow crops in artificial light- a section marked “Sponsored By VaultTec”- and towards the back were some recipes. Your body hummed with excitement at the discovery, a wealth of pre-war knowledge now at your fingertips. Encouraged by the find you bust open the rest of the desk, watching the junk spill out in hopes of striking gold. 

You had made yourself comfortable under the canopy of some large leaves, the dirt was a soft cushion beneath you as you curled at the base of the tree with your treasure trove of a book. Aside from Dogmeat's furious digging in the earth for monstrous worms, you were isolated from the world outside, unaware of the passage of time. You hugged your satchel of goodies close to your chest, as you became engrossed in the pages in front of you, determined to find information on some of the items you had found after searching the bookcases.  

A whistle breaks the peaceful silence of the oasis. Stubborn, you ignore it, convinced that the answer you’re searching for is just on the next page.

Another whistle rings out this time ripping Dogmeat from her worm hunt, head popping up, ears high and alert waiting for an order. The gravel crunched under the Ghoul's boots, his footsteps soft as to not give away his location.

 "C’mon now girlie, I been awful nice lettin’ you make your mudpies and flower crowns while I’ve been bustin’ my ass.” You can hear him circle in on your location, spurs clinking against the rocks. On instinct, you tuck yourself further under the brush you'd do anything if it meant more time in your paradise. 

He takes your silence as a challenge, you hear him suck his teeth as he mutters something under his breath. A long high whistle pierces your ears and makes your skin crawl, Dogmeat shoots out from your hiding spot to the origin of the noise. You scramble for your bag, shoving the tome inside and clutching it close.

 Dumb bitch. Cursing the dog as she’s given away your location to the Ghoul.

The familiar hiss of his inhaler can be heard next to you, a peak through the leaves reveal his dusty boots confirming his whereabouts. Lightening pain shoots through your head, a tight grip on your scalp tears from your little slice of heaven and into the icy glare of the Ghoul. “Gotcha.” He growls.

 A squeak escaped your lips and your eyes grew like saucers, your mind raced as to whatever punishment he had in store for you. The leash was uncomfortable, but it was better than being hogtied and hauled over his shoulder like a sack of scraps- and that was for running ahead of him and into a bunch of feral ghouls. His grip on your hair reminded you of the way his hand held your ass so tightly that you had bruises there for weeks. 

You could see something in his eyes, a dark carnal desire. His lips twisted into a smile as his grip tightened releasing another small squeak from you. "Ain't anyone teach you that you’re 'sposed to come when called."

You cursed yourself, his domineering touch never failed to turn you on.

“Sorry…” Your voice falters, hoping and praying he’d spare you the lasso if you looked pathetic enough.

“Sorry ain’t gonna cut it no matter how much you pout them pretty lips o’ yours babygirl.”  He pinches your cheek, patronizing you further as if the stupid pet names weren’t enough. "And to think I was fixin' to give your ass a treat for findin' this place." Removing his hand from your face, he pulls a jar of golden liquid from his pocket. "Somethin' sweet for bein' such a good girl." His words were a deep, hungry growl that twisted at the tension in your core. 

Your face grew red upon realization. He could smell you, every wastelander knew a ghoul’s sense of smell was heightened, however, you assumed that applied only to the feral ones. When he had you tied over his shoulder he could smell how wet being helpless had made you. He only released you from the hogties because the scent of you damn near made him disregard his bounty and take a bite, opting to squeeze a handful of your ass as a means to cope. And right now he could smell your drenched cunt. 

"I don't want any of your stupid chems," you spat, the feelings from his rejection bubbling back up. You felt stupid for letting him toy with you like this for so long all the while he got to have his fun. 

"Oh sweetie, this here's better than any drug you'd ever had.” He releases your hair and pockets the jar. “Now c'mon girlie." He grunts as he tosses you over his shoulder effortlessly, a familiar firm grip on your ass.

He had carried you all the way back to the living room despite your protests of being capable of walking yourself. He tosses you onto one of the battered couches, stealing your bag in the process. Not wanting to push his buttons further you sit quietly watching him meander to the firepit and kneel before it, Dogmeat follows him briefly before stealing a sofa for herself, exhausted from her worm hunting and uninterested in the foodless firepit. The Ghoul is quick to light a fire, taking his time to carefully pack the pipe you’d given him with tobacco in the bright amber light. He then takes to searching through your bag, your stomach drops knowing he’s discovered your stash and will more than likely pocket the items for himself, selling off anything else for caps. But a light wave of relief washes through you when all he takes is your matches, using one to light his pipe, and pocketing the tattered cardboard book.

"Now tell me lil' lady," he spoke, puffs of thick smoke rose around him as he came back to his feet. Each step he took towards you was accented with the creak of the floor, plumes of smoke crawled from his nose with every raspy exhale. "Why'd you go an' hide the best stuff for yourself?" His tone similar to scolding a child as he waves your prized book in your face before tossing it onto the cushion next to you. 

“I-” You’re cut off before you can manage another syllable, the older man not finished grilling you.

“And, I hadn’t forgot ‘bout your lil’ stunt back there. You damn sure know how to make my job extra difficult don'tcha sweetheart?” He flips your bag upside down, emptying the contents onto the cushion on the other side of you; another pipe, a jar of fuzzy green herb, a pair of shears, some caps, and two packs of RadAway. He knelt to your level, face dangerously close to yours, picking up each cap one by one as he watched you looking for any opportunity to further scold you. 

"Now sweetheart," He started, planting a hand on either side of you hunching over to meet your eyes and effectively cornering you between him and the tattered upholstery. "Best answer me this time 'round. I ain't one for repeatin' myself." He leaned in, narrowing the space between the two of you. The heat radiating from his body nearly unmatched by what welled between your thighs. Daring to close the gap you lean towards him, causing him to stiffen at the unexpected challenge. 

"Wouldn't have to hide it if someone wouldn't take everything for himself…” You pout, avoiding his burning gaze. Any bravado you had to stand up to him like last night has been stripped away leaving a flustered, sexually confused mess.

He smiles, eyes dark under the brim of his hat. “Not everything darlin’. After all, you’re still in one piece. Ain’t you?”  His question is punctuated with a cloud of smoke in your face making you sink back into the sofa your face burning hotter than the heat radiating off the Ghoul.

“Oh come on now, don’t start acting all shy on me. Don’t tell me this lil’ bitch is all bark and no bite.” The leather of his glove is cool against your flushed cheeks, forcing you to look back at him. “Now speak.” The command is low and gritty, his hand tightening on your cheeks.

“The stuff looked like it was worth the caps. I wasn’t trying to hide anything from you! And maybe I didn’t feel like being pushed around for a few fucking hours and wanted to be alone. The whole world doesn’t revolve around you jackass!” You can’t stop the words from flowing from you, overcome with the nauseating mix of every flavor of frustration the damn finally broke and you wanted to give the Ghoul a piece of your mind. 

Your withered companion smiles, his pipe balanced between yellowed teeth, completely unphased by your lashing. He releases his grip on your face, as if pleased with your answer and grabs the jar of green herbs, rolling it over in his hand, examining it.

"Dont’cha know what'd happen to ya' if you got caught alone with this?" He asks, dodging any of your accusations. Despite the rusted lid he manages to unscrew it, a pungent unreal smell pours out, a blend of peppercorns, old wood, and earth.  A low growl of approval roused deep from him, ripping the now exhausted pipe from his mouth. 

“And what is it exactly?” You cross your arms at the Ghoul’s obvious deflection.

 He plucked a small cluster from the jar, crumpling it into his pipe. "Ain't seen any of this shit since New Reno." He mumbles, transfixed on the herb, ignoring your question. 

You lean towards him flicking his hat back pulling his attention from his newly packed pipe and back to you. “What is it?”

"Mary Jane." He spoke low and eyes lidded sparking the pipe and taking a long drag, the cherry glowing like a small sun. The cowboy savored the draw, holding the smoke in as long as he could, choking down a cough. On exhale, long tendrils of smoke pooled from his lips as he spoke. "Sweet, sweet Mary Jane." 

The Ghoul moved to sit next to you, his long legs kicked out in front of him as he reclined. As he took another long, greedy drag you couldn't help but watch, studying the way his marred lips perfectly sat around the mouthpiece of the pipe. The sickly sweet smell of the herb made you awful curious if it tasted anything like it smelled. After all, you had never seen the Ghoul this visibly distracted by anything besides his vials that kept him alive. 

 Curiosity is getting the better of you as you watch him take a draw. "Can I try?"

A deep rumble of a laugh reverberated through you. "Thought you ain't want none of my stupid chems." Pitching his voice higher mockingly. He adds to his teasing by directing the pungent smoke to your face, enveloping you in a musky haze.

You look away in embarrassment never once interested in the plethora of chems available in the wasteland yet here you were entranced by this sickly sweet smoke that came from the ghoul's pipe.

Another crackle of the pipe as you hear your companion take a long, slow draw. Gloved fingers find their way on either side of your cheek as he gently pulls you close to his lips. A small gasp escapes you, allowing a stream of earthy smoke to dance across your tongue. Heat races from your core to the tips of your ears. Your head swimming from the taste of Mary Jane dancing in tandem with the Ghoul’s softer, intimate touch

You tried hard to ignore your arousal. You are fighting off the desire to close the small gap between you and the monster but to your disappointment, he pulls away before you can act on your hormones. Instead, he places the tip of the pipe between your parted lips, the taste of him lingers on the wood. Strong arms swing your legs over his pinstriped lap forcing you to pivot your body to face him.

 "Now take a big long breath for me darlin’." He stares deep into your eyes, hunger still there as he watches intently ensuring you’re following his directions. The smoke burns its way down your throat to your chest, the taste is acrid adding to the unpleasant feeling. A gloved hand gently pulls the pipe away from your mouth deeming you’ve had enough. 

“Now hold.” The Ghoul’s hand moves to the small of your back, rubbing small circles. Your head grows fuzzier with every passing second that you hold your breath. 

“Breathe out.” He gently instructs, you listen eager to rid the burning smoke from your lungs.

"Good girl." It's damn near a whisper. The words travel down your body settling into your needy heat. 

The pipe meets your lips again, and you quickly pull more smoke into your lungs, igniting the bowl of the pipe to a cherry red. The sharp inhale shoots smoke to the back of your throat making you choke. Plumes pour from your nose and mouth setting your airway on fire. Your pathetic sputtering for air is greeted with a gentle hand rubbing your back. 

“Easy now darlin’. Don’t need you passin’ out on me.” He says, placing the pipe between his teeth, leaving his hands free to caress your thigh and back as you catch your breath. Whatever Mary Jane was made you feel warm and fuzzy, your eyelids fall a bit as you cradle into the feeling and sink into the Ghoul’s broad chest. Your head moved with the rise and fall of his chest as he smoked, enjoying the impossible closeness and reveling in his tender touch. One hand held onto your waist working to keep you upright and balanced in his lap, the other hand lazily kneaded the softness of your thigh. 

Touch starved, and dazed you spread you legs ever so slightly in hopes of a wandering hand. The warmth brought on by the Mary Jane mingled with the growing need in your core, your threadbare underwear soaked. A pitiful whimper escapes your lips when a hand dips lower, brushing your achingly still clothed mound, and your hips roll desperate for more pressure. 

"Feelin' alright there sweetheart?" The question punctuated with another plume of smoke. 

You don't bother to look up, yet the words to express your need are fleeting, swirling around in your mind, your tongue dumb. All you muster is another whimper. He tilts your head up and you greet him with a lidded dopey smile, taking some pleasure and pride in feeling his cock harden under you. 

"Now darlin', I need you to use your words." One evil, teasing finger trails the damp cloth of your pants, lingering on your clit in small circles. “If there’s somethin’ you’re wantin’ you just gotta ask.” The Ghoul’s voice is low and warm. He watches you writhe under his touch, soft pants leaving your lips as he continues to torture your needy cunt. 

Wordless, you take his hand and guide it under the waistband of your pants, cursing the barrier your underwear still posed. You could feel how hot his hand was even through the leather of his gloves as he cupped your soaked mound. His heartbeat picked up in your ear from your bold request, and much to your disappointment he removes his hand. Your eyes shoot up to glare at him and you watch as he sets the pipe aside before taking the tip of his glove between his teeth, pulling it off with ease to reveal his scarred hand which quickly returns to its place in your pants. The waistband of your underwear tightens as he wraps the fabric tightly around his fingers, threads popped in time with the crackle of the fire as the time worn fabric gave way. Dutiful fingers now at your bare wet slit worked their way up and down, teasing at the entrance to your needy hole. Marled lips find their way to your neck, peppering your sensitive skin with featherlight kisses pulling whisper like moans from you. Your hands slither around his neck creeping under the collar of his duster, nails digging into thick, pitted skin pulling him closer, swimming in the intoxicating scent of Mary Jane, tobacco, and leather. The kisses move up your neck, tracing your soft jawline up to your ear his breath warm against you.

“You smell like a bitch in heat.” The Ghoul growls in your ear, a rough finger dips into your entrance slowly drilling away at your sensitive spot. “Best keep quiet darlin’. Don’t want somethin’ findin’ us in such a compromisin’ position don’t we?” He nips your ear as a second finger joins the first, stretching you and pulling a loud moan from you. His fingers work at the soft spongey spot, your core twisting and flipping from every coax of his digits. Your legs are unable to still themselves as each motion brings you closer and closer to the long needed release your hips writhe in his lap unintentionally grinding on the cowboy’s achingly hard member. You don’t even notice his low groans of pleasure, enraptured in the intense euphoria he’s working you towards, your needy cunt tightening around him, as your pleasure reaches a crescendo, crying out in wanton ecstasy from the gunslinger’s skilled fingers. He moves his roughened hand to your clit, rubbing tight circles as you ride out your orgasm, head fuzzy from the chems you shared and drunk on orgasmic bliss. Your head falls into the rad-warm crook of the Ghoul’s neck, eyelids heavy and breathing shallow. 

‘Th-thank you, Sir.” You murmur nuzzling into him. 

“Call me Coop darlin’.” He says, planting a soft kiss on your head. He pulls his hand away from your pants inspecting the glistening mess on his fingers in the firelight. “Only makes sense, considerin’ our proper introduction.” Coop mutters to himself, licking your slick off his fingers, tasting his hard work. 

[greatlydelirious]

You can't just write "model nude for Vincent which of course led to passionate, mind-melting sex" and never mention it again! WHERE BLEASE BLEASE BLEASE

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬

Vincent Sinclair x F!Reader

Ask and you shall receive!

wordcount: 4k words

warnings: fluffy smut, body worship, lovesick corny bastards

Candles sway gently as they cast an orange glow throughout the room. The darkness mixed with the low light perfectly heightens the dips and curves of your body. Bare skin sparkles and your most private areas are hidden by shadows. Enough to tease while still leaving room for imagination.

“More to the left?”

You await further instruction with bated breath. Half from the innate eroticism of what you were doing and half because of how hot the basement is. A light sheen of sweat has accumulated over your body. Although paired with the lighting it only made you look more breathtaking to the man in front of you.

Vincent turns his head to the side while silently evaluating you. Unconsciously he begins to tap the eraser part of his pencil against his masked lips. He was a true artist hyper-fixated on his craft; or as you’ve come to learn, his muse.

-

Often you sat with Vincent when he was carefully crafting a new sculpture or drawing out ideas that popped into his head. “Sat with” truly means he had you situated in his lap or within arm’s reach. He told you once that your presence calmed him and made him more productive. Bo grumbled about how if he didn’t know better, he would have thought you and Vincent were the ones conjoined. Not an outlandish comment since you two were practically fused at the hip.

Vincent is a man of few words and even fewer demands. Day after day he works on his projects while simultaneously taking care of you. Any need you have; he makes sure it is met. All he asks for in return is your companionship. Yet you still couldn’t stop the nagging feeling to do something more. After days of contemplation, you finally come up with the perfect way to thank him for all he does.

The idea came to you after sifting through the plethora of books Vincent had under the metal frame of his bed. It was hard to keep yourself preoccupied in the vacant town of Ambrose, so you usually found refuge in books. Most of them were older than you, save for the few Lester would scrounge up after going through the belongings of the people unfortunate enough to stumble here. By this point, you’ve read them all; some even twice.

After noticing you sighing while staring at the cracked ceiling, Vincent tugged you by his bed and pulled out the hidden treasure for you to scour through. You felt like a kid on Christmas day. Each book looked more interesting than the last. One, in particular, had you enraptured at the very first page. A picture of a naked woman was on the yellowed and slightly aged paper. She bashfully turned her face away from the camera as the only scrap of fabric on her body was a strategically held piece of sheer fabric.

“Tasteful,” You admonish silently.

Lord knows what kind of nudie magazines his twin brother Bo had. Just imagining the possibilities made you cringe. Shaking your head, you continue to skim through the intimate photography book. In between some of the pages were torn pieces from Vincent’s sketchbook that contained rough drawings of poses like the ones inside. You smile at the idea of Vincent blushing while using these photos for reference.

Of course, he uses the images for art purposes only. You blanch at the weight you didn’t even know was there, leaving your shoulders at the reassurance. Intimacy was extremely important to not only you but your relationship. Each touch expressed words that Vincent could not and would not utter. So, the thought that he would seek pleasure outside of yourself made you feel insecure.

You knew it was unfounded, but like any woman in love, you strived to make your man happy and fulfilled. The last time you brought up concerns of you potentially being an inadequate partner to Vincent, he vehemently shook his head and whined like he was the one doing something wrong. It almost annoyed you that he was so perfect. Vincent is intelligent, but not pompous. Silent, but not dismissive. Talented, but not showy.  Truly a caring lover despite the dark acts he participates in.

As you reach the end of the book an anecdote gets the gears in your brain to turn;

“The foundation for any good art form is a subject to expand creativity upon. Whether that be a person, place, thing, feeling, or as this book showcases, pose; inspiration can be found anywhere. In special cases, an artist has a specific muse that sparks ideas in them. Next time you’re talking to an artist, ask them what their muse might be.”

It’s evident that Vincent makes good use of this book, but maybe you could offer him something more interactive. He wrote all the time that you are “one of a kind” to him, so using you as a reference, rather than a random woman, might work better for him. Offering this might also have the added benefit of making you feel more useful.

You close the book with a determined snap before sliding it back with the others. After taking a steadying breath you make your way toward Vincent.

-

When you propositioned your idea to Vincent, a deep flush immediately ran down his neck as he eagerly nodded. Ironically, now you were the one who felt flushed. How could you not when his gestures while concentrating are so adorable? Although when he rolls up his sleeves to reveal the thick veins that run from his hands to his forearms, your thoughts quickly become less wholesome.

That pencil was the size of a pinky in his large hand. Hands that made even you feel small when they roamed across your body, savoring the sensation of your skin against his. Your own gently twitch at the memory of what that feels like. With a large hand came thick fingers that always seemed to wander down to your-

A small grunt pulls you from your ogling. Looking up, Vincent shakes his head before finally taking a seat in the chair a few feet away from the worn couch you were currently lying on. The position you are in puts you on display while keeping you comfortable.

You’re lounging on your side with your left leg draped in front of your right. Your thigh kept your modesty below even if the “v” of your groin was still visible. A pillow kept your head aloft, letting you watch Vincent as he worked away. Your left arm sat atop your thigh while your right arm crooked lazily next to your head.

To Vincent, you are the most gorgeous reference he’s ever been blessed with. To you, you felt like the textbook definition of self-conscious. Although the man has seen every little inch of you during your highs and lows, you couldn’t help it. It’s vulnerable to be in your birthday suit with someone while not in the throes of passion.

However, judging by the way Vincent slightly maneuvered his hips, your gift was having a bonus effect that you weren’t the only one feeling. Time goes by in a slow crawl. The more minutes that pass, the hotter you get. Despite the warmth encompassing your body from the boiling wax in the room, goosebumps prickled across your skin.

You try to adjust yourself surreptitiously. A feat when his eyes flicked up to you every other damn second. Your fingers itch to release the ever-growing ache between your closed thighs. You almost marvel at how Vincent has managed to keep his cool for so long.

There are subtle giveaways of Vincent’s own desire. His adam’s apple bobs up and down and the grip on each item in his possession is a little too tight. Figurative floodgates open as you watch the rather large bulge in his pants strain under the zipper. Yes, you knew what you were getting into by volunteering to pose, but by this point, it was plain old torture.

In a twist of fate when you squeeze your thighs together to feel some pressure, Vincent looks up at the same time. There was no doubt he saw the way your muscles bunched. Especially since instead of glancing back down to his drawing, his eyes stay fixated on you.

The sketchbook and pencil slip to the ground as Vincent abruptly stands up. Instead of pouncing on you, Vincent stalks toward you. He soaks you in from the tip of your toes to the top of your head. Just like before you let him take the lead, not daring to move a centimeter unless prompted. Even if you want to do quite the opposite and hang onto him like a spider monkey on a tree. Each step he takes toward you makes you want to do the latter.

A calloused thumb makes perches on the much softer flesh of your cheek. Vincent gently rubs the skin there while staring straight into your soul. You answer his unspoken question by wrapping your hand around his wrist, your own thumb rubbing against the pulse point that thrummed underneath. No words were needed to communicate how much you wanted this; how much you wanted him.

Releasing your hold on Vincent, you let out a shaky breath as he trails down your neck to your collarbone, leaving heat in its wake despite his feather-light touches. He skims the side of one breast before doing the same to the other. His eyes are fixated on how your nipples immediately pucker at the close contact. The skin is taut and anticipatory.

You gasp when he rolls the bud in between his middle and forefinger. Vincent lavishes both with attention; lightly twisting and rolling them while you arch in his expert hands. When he is satisfied with how he worked you into a needy frenzy, he continues his descent down. He squeezes the soft flesh of your breasts, sides, and hips, until stalling at your thighs. Two large palms caress your trembling thighs up and down. All you can do is watch as he indulges in your body.

Despite his breath coming out in flustered pants, Vincent slowly peels your leg off the other and opens you up like he was savoring every moment. The warm air hitting the wetness between your thighs makes you flinch. Vincent darts his head up to look at you. Your face is reddened by your desire and your lips are parted so you can intake oxygen better since the atmosphere is thick with humidity and tension.

Tentative fingers slide against your folds. A grunt sounds above you as Vincent spreads your slick, marveling at how drenched you are already. When a single digit sinks into your pussy, you sigh in relief. Pent-up emotions left you needy, wanting, and craving just the slightest hint of satisfaction.

Obscene noises fill the room as a second finger joins the first. Vincent stretches you, but it’s still nothing compared to the real thing. Regardless, you’re panting by this point. Velvety walls quiver around rough skin while you cry out for more. Thankfully, Vincent knows your body better than you do. You swear you see stars when the two fingers inside you stroke your g-spot. Simultaneously, his other hand begins to work your clit. Now he was demanding with every firm, fast touch.

“Right there! Feels so good baby.” You moan out your encouragement as you quickly reach the metaphorical ledge of your fast-approaching release. Vincent hums in acknowledgment before working double time. Blessed by perfect timing, his fingers derive sinful rapture from the respective pleasure points he is expertly rubbing.

The mental foreplay earlier had you so on edge you knew you wouldn’t last long. In seconds you are cursing and moaning Vincent’s name. Your heels dig into the fabric of the couch, and you hold the forearm closest to you in a death grip as you finally give in to your orgasm. You fuck onto his fingers while you ride the waves, each new one making you shudder more than the last.

When he finally pulls out of you, you’re soaked. If you didn’t feel so good you would be embarrassed by the mess you made on not only yourself but the couch. Still dumb from your orgasm you can barely register the extra weight dipping the cushions. Vincent slings your shaky legs over his wide shoulders to make room for himself. Your legs lock tight when warm breath hits your delicate skin.

Instead of the familiar waxiness, a tangible hot mouth connects with your core. The sensation makes you cry out and scramble to find purchase. Your fingers interlace with Vincent’s long hair and when you tug, he groans, sending a delicious vibration straight to your clit. His tongue lashes at anything it can reach. “Tasting” isn’t even the right word; it was like he was memorizing every nuance.

The sight of the two you should be a painting in its own right; an erotic scene depicting a man’s face buried in a woman’s sex while her thighs clamped down on either side of his head. Maybe you could ask Lester to find you a video camera…

Movement rocking you causes you to look down. Vincent’s hips are gyrating as he humps the couch in shallow thrusts. That alone made you feel like you were on the precipice of another orgasm; and when he starts sucking your clit, it almost becomes fact. But you are desperate for all of him and you would be damned to be envious of a couch.

“I need you, Vincent.” Removing your grip on his hair, you opt to pet his head. A part of you thought if he didn’t feel your touch, he would be too lost in you to even hear your words.

One final lick stripes up the length of your sex followed by a kiss to your mound. You stare at the ceiling to pray to any God that was out there because dear Lord this man was going to be the end of you. How can he eat you out like an animal then turn around and be so sweet? The only phrase to describe what you feel is sensual whiplash.

By the time you find your bearings, Vincent is standing next to you with his mask secured back in place. However, you do notice a light sheen under his chin that makes you blush a feverish red. He wore it with pride though, chest puffed out and heaving. His erratic breathing has nothing to do with exertion, not with his stamina.

Stepping back, Vincent makes quick work unbuttoning his overalls. When you make a move to help him undress, he pushes you back down. With a huff, you don’t argue and watch the show in front of you unfold. He peels the beloved sweater off next to reveal a lean frame carved by taut muscle.

The man looked like a specially curated statue himself. All cut lines and understated masculinity. You forget how easily he can snap you in half with how deceptively sweet he was. The shiver that rakes your body is an amalgamation of instinctual fear and arousal.

Soon enough Vincent is as bare as you. Your mouth waters as your eyes move down. Vincent’s cock juts out hard and proud. You always marvel at how impossibly long and equally thick he is. “Perfect mind, perfect heart, perfect cock,” You muse in your head. The tip blushes pink as it shines with a coat of pre-cum. Nothing excited him more than tasting you.

A noise akin to a growl confirms that Vincent knows exactly what you’re thinking. In only two large strides he situates himself on top of you. Blindly his cock rubs against your folds as he cages you between his strong arms. Still sensitive and slippery from your previous orgasm, you let out a high-pitched moan when the wide head of his cock nudges your clit.

He tries, again and again, to push inside your tight depths, but you’re far too slick to give him easy passage. Vincent grunts in frustration before you take him in your hand. As you squeeze his length to maneuver him, he starts to thrust into your hand.

“Does that feel good baby?” You coo the question while making your fist tighter. Your ministrations elicit more noises from the normally silent man.

“Do you want to feel something even better?” With an emphatic nod, Vincent mewls.

In the beginning “dirty talk” made you slightly embarrassed, but when he reacted to it the way he did, embarrassing yourself was the least of your worries. Biting your lip, you help slip the head of his cock into your pussy. Just the girth of his tip is enough to make you wiggle your hips to accommodate. You push your head against the pillow when Vincent finally sinks into you. Pleasure outweighs the slight bite his cock always leaves you with.

Exhaling sharply, Vincent shakes from restraining himself to give you time to adjust; but you’re tired of waiting. You wrap your arms and legs around him like you imagined earlier and pull. “Take me. Now.” For emphasis, you dig your heels into his ass which makes another inch slide into your wet pussy.

And take you he does. Without further encouragement, Vincent bottoms out while still having more shaft to spare before pulling out and doing the same all over again. You become lethargic in your lust-fueled bliss, going lax in his hold while moaning breathlessly. In no time Vincent quickens the pace. He delves into you hungrily, taking each little morsel you have to give.

Long dark tresses act as a curtain hiding away the lovers’ impassioned faces. All you can see, and feel is the man above you and you wouldn’t have it any other way. When you think you’ve reached the height of pleasure you’re surprised once again.

Vincent folds back your left leg until your knee is next to your head. A loud whine escapes you at the surprise new position that made his cock sink into you even deeper. Vincent nuzzles the side of his masked cheek into your newly elevated foot. A deep rumble akin to a purr leaves him almost soothingly. It’s his way of verbally praising you for taking him so well. The sound is a sweet contrast to the way he was rapidly snapping his hips into you.

Each of Vincent’s breaths comes out haggard. Unsurprising given your joint exertion and the mask smothering his airflow. Although this was his normal you wanted him to be comfortable and see your lover in his most intimate state. You’ve seen him unmasked before, but it’s been ingrained in him to hide. That’s not something you’ll ever get behind.

With trembling fingers, you stroke the skin just under his mask, “Please Vinny… can you take it off?”

Your syrupy sweet moans mixed with the pet name demolish Vincent’s trepidation faster than an atomic bomb. A dull thud comes from the floor as warm flesh presses into your neck. Frenzied wet kisses smother the sensitive spot that leaves you more breathless than before. In tandem, fingers begin to sloppily rub your clit again in fast circles. Vincent shifts to support himself on his forearms to better drive into you. He was more than desperate to feel you find your ecstasy around him; he was practically frenzied.

Each gentle caress and sharp thrust make your mind begin to melt like the wax mere feet away. Your bodies felt like malleable putty. No longer are there two different people, but a beautiful combination of one. He was you and you were him.

“Oh God, Vincent please don’t stop,” The words come out slurred like you were drunk on his cock. “I’m so close!” Every time he reaches the end of your depths, his pubic bone roughly rubs your clit. It was too much; he was too long, too thick, and too good at making you lose your mind.

You cling on to Vincent like a lifeline as you come undone around him. Incoherent words string together to make a non-sensical sentence. Only your cries of pleasure are recognizable.

Your pussy tightens like a fist around his cock as each spasm makes you pull him in deeper. Vincent loses himself in you, giving four more manic thrusts before also letting go. With a strained groan, Vincent calls out your name before slamming your hips against his and shooting his release inside you. Warmth spreads in your core to a point that you feel almost uncomfortably full, but it’s an ache you welcome wholeheartedly.

For a few agonizing moments, Vincent continues to move inside you. Each extra thrust of his softening cock pumps his cum deeper and deeper. The overstimulation makes you whimper and claw at his shoulders. With one last deep thrust, he finally stills. A soft kiss is lovingly placed on your temple before Vincent supports himself back on his palms to gaze down at you.

Vincent truly was his brother’s twin. The malformed visage on the right side of his face doesn’t scare you, but only makes your heart further soften. Which at this point would mean the organ was pure liquid because of how much you love this man.

You muster a tired smile as you bring a hand to the scarred flesh of your lover. Instead of flinching away, he leans into your touch. Never did he tire of your little pets. Vincent slowly leans back down to pull you into yet another kiss. Lips and tongues dance in a languid tango backed by an orchestra consisting of light hums and deep moans. Every time you feel like you have no more energy to give, Vincent breathes new life into you.

After sharing your mushy feelings via your mouths, you both pull back panting as if you romped for a second time. The telltale twitch of his cock still buried in your pussy is evidence enough that Vincent would of no qualms with going for round two.

Sighing, Vincent reluctantly leaves you to search for a rag. It takes all your willpower not to whistle at the sight of his toned ass. “Someone call the police because this man is packing in the front and the back,” You have enough restraint to keep the comment to yourself as well.

When he finishes cleaning you both off, Vincent grabs the forgotten drawing that tumbled onto the floor. A noticeable blush spreads across his face and down his neck as he holds his sketchbook. Sitting up you stretch your hand out, “Can I see it?”

When he hesitates, you put on your best pout. “Pretty, pretty please? You can’t make love to me like that and not show me what you drew.”

Only after one more round of saying “pretty please” while adorning puppy eyes that would make even Bo falter, he gives in. You’re drowning in anticipation by the time he offers the book for you to hold. Any composure you recovered quickly dissipates. At your silence, Vincent tries to grab the picture until he sees the tears swelling in your eyes. He immediately tips up your chin expecting to see disappointment but is only greeted by adoration.

Despite the time constraint, the drawing was extremely detailed. Unlike his other sketches that consisted of haphazard lines and rough ideas, this piece looked fully actualized and it’s even shaded. To say you were impressed was an understatement. You had never seen your body look so beautiful before. What makes it all the more sentimental was knowing that’s how Vincent saw you.

A thumb wiping away your tears helps ground you enough for you to find your words, “It’s wonderful Vincent. You’re wonderful.”

Then something rare happens, Vincent smiles; a wide, boyish, genuine smile unobstructed by a mask.

Any and all interactions are greatly appreciated.

[nezarchive]

photo credit: Art Zelin

Michael Nesmith and wife Phyllis at the premiere of the Monkees' movie Head on November 6, 1968, in New York City. Michael is wearing his Nudie Suit which he commisioned Nudie Cohn to make in 1967.

"I bought my Nudie’s in 1967, because of Buck Owens and Porter Wagoner, specifically, and Hank Williams generally. I liked the way they looked on stage –it showed a playfulness and absurdist art that I liked." - Interview with Damien Love for Uncut Magazine, 2007.

[modstin]

Sloppy Goblin of Uranla 2650 The Uranla issue of Wurlskar's favorite Nudie Magazine always has a festive twist for the continent's favorite Autumnal Holiday; Samhain. This issue is no different, featuring Centerfold Gibsy Pum doing something outrageous with a pumpkin.

YOU WON'T BELIEVE YOUR EYES WHEN YOU SEE WHAT SHE DOES TO IT BELOW!

she puts her dick in it. that's what she does. she fucks the pumpkin for 5 pages.

I gave you gock (goblin cock) now please read my comedy sword and sorcery comic!! thanks (gives you a kiss on your forehead)

Newgrounds

Tapas

[lostcryptids]

Barbara Crampton Ghoulies nudie magazine spread holy shit

[mooncaps]

I'm curious about something...

What age were you when you first sought out sexual content?

Not stumbled across it, or had someone else show it to you, but looked for it on purpose. (Or went back to it on purpose, even if the original exposure was circumstantial.) I'm wondering what the average age is for most people.

Could be adult websites, old nudie magazines, romance novels, erotic fanfiction, replaying that one steamy scene in a movie, a suggestive dance video, or even something like a fashion catalog.

The first time you intentionally sought something out for the purpose of experiencing and exploring sexuality and arousal.

Please reblog for a larger sample size.

[androcola]

i keep imagining this funny scenario where mickys sitting at the table across from mike talking to him. laying some heavy stuff down and mikes got this magazine that hes reading and hes only responding like "yeah. yeah. mhm. ok." and finally mickys like "are you even listening to me right now???" and mikes like "oh yeah." and lifts the magazine and it unfolds like a nudie mag and mickys like "what do you have!!??!" expecting the worst and he snatches it from mike only to find its just pictures and diagrams of cars and car parts 😭😭