#silhouette nudity

[ribbittrobbit]

Hacaea, the Witch of the Woodland Green and Grimore, the Witch of the Wild Hunt

(@worldsbeyondpod has me pacing and fearing for the pcs lives)

[laithraihan]

Hi, I love your art sm. Just wondering, are you at all interested in drawing nsfw stuff? Totally understand if you aren't tho!

Hi thank you very much 🫶💜 I tried drawing NSFW before but realized it's not really my thing, sorry about that

[peapod20001]

Haha anyways... hellooooo nurse or whatever

[lewdlucidity]

our most precious asset, time, is best spent in pleasant company 🖤

[handhourgalleries]

Discounted YCH Valentine Commissions

I'm dropping the cost from $85 to $50.

These Commissions are now closed, Thank you!

I was rather proud of these, was hoping someone out there would like to give me their couples to lovingly draw up. My favorite is the winter springs template. I had fun with those colors!

These Commissions will remain open until the end of the month, and then I shall vault them, and possibly use them for my own ideas >:)

Please Message me directly if you have questions, or email your character references to handhour@gmail.com if you'd like to get started.

[forter-from-meteos]

hey, it's ya girl, starrii

[lindwyrme]

[yellowishart]

[pricegouge]

Haul

Part One MDNI

Master list | on ao3

slasher!trucker!141 x reader

series cw: dark fic. major character deaths, rape/noncon

chapter cw: alcohol/drugs mentioned, though reader doesn't partake. up to you if that's for sobriety purposes or not, though most of this chapter takes place in a bar. public nudity. brief, non descriptive mention of animal harm. Let me know if I missed anything!

Like most terrible things in your life, it starts off with a dare. You're on the I-40 somewhere around Seligmen when Ash's fingers drum on the steering wheel of her busted old beater and you know she's got an evil little scheme brewing by the erratic, staccato beat. She turns to you and grins, hair whipping about her in the wind tunnel created by the open windows. "I dare you," she drawls in the same conversational tone she'd used a few states back to initiate a game of I Spy, back when there were colors other than tan and brown, and the occasional smudge of green shrubbery, to spy. "To flash this trucker when we pass him."

Like most terrible things in your life, it starts off with a dare.

You're on the I-40 somewhere around Seligmen when Ash's fingers drum on the steering wheel of her busted old beater and you know she's got an evil little scheme brewing by the erratic, staccato beat. She turns to you and grins, hair whipping about her in the wind tunnel created by the open windows. "I dare you," she drawls in the same conversational tone she'd used a few states back to initiate a game of I Spy, back when there were colors other than tan and brown, and the occasional smudge of green shrubbery, to spy. "To flash this trucker when we pass him."

Bored off your ass after days in the car with not much to do other than reconnect with your old friend and listen to the same band over and over (Ash was… over excited to be on the way to see them), you briefly consider it before taking in the tacky mud flaps - sexy lady silhouette that's been a staple of trashy truckers since before you were born, here X-rayed so you could see her sexy little skeleton as well. 

"No way," you scoff.

"Oh, c'mon," she nods at the same decals you'd already noticed. "Bet he'd enjoy the show."

"Yeah, bet he'd enjoy turning me into a skeleton, too."

"Well, he'd have to catch you first, and I'm an excellent, speedy little driver."

She was, that being the only reason you'd agreed to her hairbrained idea to drive half across the US. When she'd asked if you'd wanted to join her in seeing your favorite band from high school play their farewell tour out in California, you'd envisioned long nights, heart to hearts, deep conversation under starry desert skies, and a great pay off at the end in the form of one last, cathartic hurrah before a quiet, tired drive home. But you hadn't calculated on Ash still being in her party girl phase.

Perhaps you should have known. One of the main reasons you'd fallen off with her post-graduation was because the crowd she'd been migrating towards was only escalating. You were by no means a square, but between landing a nine-to-five and having bills to pay, your rough edges had slowly been whittling away over the years while, it seemed, Ash had remained the exact same Ash she'd always been. You didn't begrudge her that, but neither did you relish pit stops at dive bars every night, nor juvenile dares in broad daylight. Mind, when you were supposed to be sleeping because you'd driven all night after a stop in west Texas had left Ash incapacitated no less. 

Still, the boredom of not having much to talk about with your only companion, and the monotony of the same albums you've been listening to since middle school being played over and over was wearing on you, and despite your exhaustion, a sense of restlessness had crept in somewhere around Flagstaff and wasn't leaving you be. 

"Fine, but you're buying me a drink tonight."

"Are you drinking!?" she hoots, somewhere between excited you're no longer being 'a stick in the mud,' and apprehensive that she wouldn't have a driver lined up at closing time.

"No, but when I inevitably offer to buy someone else one, you're covering it."

Ash scoffs loudly enough to be heard over both the music and the wind, an impressive feat. "Deal, but once he gets a load of them titties, I'm fairly sure Mr. Kenworth here is gonna be dominating your time tonight."

"That's why you're driving quick enough he can't catch us, remember?" you laugh, already reaching up under your shirt to remove your bra.

The car accelerates, the long black trailer stretching past your passenger window as Ash pulls up alongside it. She whoops happily when you unbuckle your belt, blaring the music and hollering along to get your nerves up. There's a pit in your belly, the kind that forms right at the top of a rollercoaster. Your nerves alight, as if in preparation for a fight, skin drawing tight and pebbling into goosebumps. You spare a thought for how hard your nipples are gonna be and laugh perhaps a bit maniacally. Ash turns your nerves to excitement with a rousing set of slaps to your thick thighs. You take a deep breath, release it with a high, distressed whine. Still, you get a leg under you and contort yourself half out the port, Ash's excited shrieking following you out, though soon ripped away by the rushing of the wind around you. Your shirt whips up. Instinctively, you try to shove it down and then nearly roll your eyes at yourself when you realize what you're about to do. The white nose of the truck looms closer, side view mirror reflecting nothing back at you but a darkened cab. It strikes you as odd, what with the sun beating down on you both, hot and undisturbed by cloud nor foliage. It's blazing on your skin despite the wind, scent of the baked tarmac below heavy in your sinuses. Sand pecks against your flesh, abrasive. You hope a big beetle doesn't come smashing into your teeth before all this is done.

You don't have much time to think about it. Ash swats you on your ass and you pull your shirt up, screaming all the while as the tension in your body boils over like a tea kettle. Eyes squeezed shut, you don't notice at first how the truck carries on straight as an arrow. Unaffected. You expect an air horn or something, get none. When you peek, the tint of the truck's window glares apathetically back at you, a dark shroud through which you have no ability to gauge the driver's reaction.

It's Ash who honks first, the tired sounding beeps jolting you back to reality. You feel let down, disappointed. Self-conscious, stupidly. You shrink back on yourself a bit, shirt hiding the bottom half of your face as you slump back toward your seat. Your chest is still exposed, something you only register when - finally - the airhorn knocks you fully on your ass, hand scrambling to cover yourself in front of your friend. 

Completely ignorant of your emotional turmoil, Ash slaps the steering wheel animatedly, cackling and whooping like she's driving a getaway car after a successful heist. The airhorn sounds again and you glance up at the blank window, embarrassment and shame creeping up your throat. You've no clue why it's worse that you can't see the driver; even less of an idea as to why you were kind of hoping for their approval. Especially considering you have it, you think, another short blast of the horn attesting to the driver's pleasure. You force a grin, give a stupid little wave that you instantly regret. You roll up the window despite Ash's old beater having no AC, desperate for some kind of space between you and the truck. 

Brain skipping, trying to keep busy so you don't have to assess the weird pit of disappointment you'd felt, you reach into the footwell in search of your bra, but stop short when you see it dangling from a strap off Ash's finger. "Thanks," you mumble, and then glare daggers at her when she yanks it away quicker than you can grab. She's got that face on again, the mischief making one.

"Don't you dare," you hiss, but she just cackles and sends it flying out the open sunroof. "Ash!" you cry, twisting in your seat so see the lacy little number get caught up in the slipstream of the semi behind you, skirting up over the hood and plastering itself to the window where, quick as a flash, a thick, tattooed arm reaches out the driver's side window to slap the wiper down over it, snaring it against the glass.

The stone in your stomach hardens, sinks lower. Where before you'd felt oddly bereft without the driver's approval, this feels far too intimate, and you urge Ash quicker, turning back forward to watch the miles of open road pass, checking at each mile marker to see how the space between your car and his has grown. His grill glints chrome under the blaring sun, visible for miles. Combined with the tinted windshield, they turn the white cab into a skull, teeth bared and all.

***

The bar Ash chooses sits back from the road down a small slope, as if nestled by the dusty landscape - a hidden chest of glittering incandescent and neon bulbs, oil slick from the assembled nearby trucks painting what remains of the crumbling tarmac aurora. They line the lot on either side, backed up until their trailers overhang the paved lot itself, carving footprints into the hard earth. Between the two lines, the valley of the lot funnels you toward the boisterous building, music and laughter spilling out its seams. 

You'd rolled up the windows when the sun set so you're not quite prepared for the chill that greets you as you step out of the car. Still braless, you check to be sure the dark material of your shirt covers your nipples, but hug your flannel closer to yourself anyway, making a slow turn as you assess the assembled cars. You've been to enough dive bars to know the real warning signs; the get-the-fuck-out-of-dodge-before-you-decide-to-tryand-fight-a-blooded-Nazi kind of signs. Thankfully you don't see much here beyond the standard watch-your-drink-and-don't-let-your-bare-ass-touch-the-toilet-seat kind of vibes so you resign yourself to a night of babysitting, coming around the nose of the car as you bring a cigarette to your lips. 

Ash is giddy with excitement, dragging you along with her hands tucked through your elbow as she whispers excitedly about all the possibilities a dive bar off a forgotten county road in nowhere Arizona might offer. She'd said just a few drinks when she'd suggested going out again tonight, but you already know how that's going to shake out.

"Yeah? You gonna do some blow off the shuffleboard table by the end of the night?" You joke.

"And get sand in my nose? Please," Ash scoffs. "I'll do it off the sink like a normal person." 

You grin, holding the door open for her. "Go ahead and find us a spot, I'm gonna do my dirty deed," you wag the cigarette at her illustratively. 

"Yeah, yeah. Don't take too long or else all the lonely rednecks'll think I'm looking for company." 

You don't remind her she doesn't need to be here if she doesn't want to be. "If you ask pretty they'll take you to the bathroom," you wink instead, flicking your nose. Ash just laughs as she steps through the door. You let it drop behind her, fishing your lighter from your pocket as you step toward the edge of the porch. There's a loud group on your left, smoking more than just tobacco by the smell of it. You don't mind, but neither do you want to partake, so you stay a good distance away, listening in as the loudest of the group tells an animated story about the time he hit a deer and it ran off with his headlight cover. He's not a great story teller, but the assembled group laughs loud enough to drown him out half the time so maybe your perception is skewed.

Beyond them, inside, you can hear the clatter of billiards, and the general din of loosened lips, but outside, it is a cool and still night. You've never been to this part of the country, and you can't help but reflect on how nice it is in these quiet moments without Ash's chatter, or her constant performative nature. It's not that you dislike her, but days of such close proximity after years of barely any contact had certainly been a decision, and you're really started to regret it. Still, it's good to travel, and it's been so long since you've bothered with a bar that you nearly forget how to react when a man sidles up beside you and asks for a light. 

Stocky, handsome, you stammer over some words and extend your lighter, cursing when you realize you should have held the open flame out for him to light his cigarette over. He gives you a grin like he knows what you're thinking, and then exhales his smoke right into your face, destroying any attraction you'd felt for him before he'd even said a word.

You spare him a tight grin and hold your hand out for your lighter back. He holds it out, but gives it a playful little tug when you try to take it from him. "Alright," you gripe at the same moment he relinquishes his grasp, sending your hand dropping aggressively down with the slight force you'd been using. You nod while he just keeps grinning at you and snub out what remains of your cigarette. "Have a good one," you mumble, sliding past him and into the bar.

Ash perches at a small two-top, long neck dangling from her fingers prettily. You slide in across from her and she offers you the second bottle she'd snagged, though accepts easily enough when you shake your head. She's angled toward the room, that demure, but still inviting pose she'd perfected long ago on full display. As predicted, a string of men approach her, though she shoots them all down, giving you commentary on what she's thought of them all when she sends them packing. 

"Too scrawny."

"Smelled like Funyuns."

"I've seen more hair in my shower drain."

You giggle, content to watch her pick on sleazy men all night. Unfortunately her tune changes when return from the restroom a while later to find her flirting with a tall, broad man in a gaiter. She notices you as you draw close and beams at you, waving you closer in a way that suggests 'check this one out'. 

"Who's your friend?" you ask hesitantly, eyeing the big guy all over. He's dressed nice enough for a place like this, work boots and well-fitting jeans that hug his hammies sinfully. He's got on a canvas jacket over a tight thermal, some ink on his left hand you can't quite catch the shape of. The gaiter rubs you wrong, despite its innocuous dark material. Just this side of too sketchy in a place already bordering on it, you imagine there's no good reason a man would hide the bottom half of his face when he's presumably there to imbibe alcohol with his mouth all night. 

"Simon," the man rumbles, voice dark and accented. He extends his right hand to you and you take it, fingers engulfed by his broad, rough palm. In his left he holds a brown bottle, label obscured by his wide grip.

"Simon, this is my friend, Betty," Ash introduces you before you even have a chance. You shoot her a look, obvious enough that even the newcomer catches it.

"Betty?" he asks, eyes darting between the two of you.

"Not my name," you assert, but Ash speaks over you.

"Because she's so delightfully pretty, but so devastatingly boring," she pouts at you. To Simon she says, "Go on, ask her if she wants a drink."

"Can I get you a -?"

"No."

"See? Boring."

You roll your eyes, but don't offer any sort of retaliation besides. You're used to this, and generally unbothered by it. That doesn't mean it's not a pleasant surprise when Simon comes to your defense. "Nothing wrong with being responsible." His eyes are heavy on you, trailing in a way you're not necessarily comfortable with. That doesn't stop you from thanking him.

"Responsible," Ash scoffs. "One beer is still totally legal to drive."

"Quit complaining. Just means you get to have all the fun," you remind her.

"Mm, true," Ash sings. She tilts her bottle against Simon's, but you can't help noticing he gets distracted before the bottle makes it to his lips.

"You guys from around here?"

"Is anyone from here?" you quip, eyeing the assembled lot. They match their trucks outside: heavy, built for long hauls and quick stops at watering holes. 

"Suppose not," Simon admits, his own accent played up for effect. "Where you lot headed, then?"

"L.A.," Ash gushes.

When she doesn't elaborate, you tack on, "Ash's got a modeling gig."

"Really?" Ash smacks Simon playfully on the arm over his offended tone. 

"No," she laughs, "seeing a show. You ever been to L.A.?"

"Been everywhere," Simon shrugs, cryptic.

"You a trucker too, I take it?"

"Don't I look like one?" His accent thickens with every word until even your unlearned ear believes you could pinpoint his exact birthplace - distinctly un-American.

"You ever consider a mullet?" Ash giggles.

Simon looks about to snark something back when the lighter-less man from outside stumbles into his space.

"Hi," he tells the group in general, eyes unfocused before they slide to you. "Wanted to apologize. Think we got off on the wrong foot out there."

You can practically feel Ash brimming with excitement, the fact that both of you are now talking to men not going unnoticed by either of you. Not wanting to find yourself in some cheap motel Fargo sex with her, you make your lack of attraction obvious immediately, voice stern. "All good, man."

"Right," he balks. "Can I buy you a drink to make up for it?"

"Nope."

"Oh. Uh… you driving tonight or something?"

"Just not thirsty."

Across from you, Ash mouths the word 'Betty' at a stone faced Simon.

"Then why are you in a bar?" Lighter-less demands, belligerent. 

"Good question," you turn on Ash, but before she can answer, Simon speaks up.

"Piss off, mate."

"Fuck you," the guy snaps, turning to face the other man. You realize he must not have gotten a good look at him before approaching the group because you see his eyes go wide when he takes in Simon's sheer size.

"Nah, fuck you actually. Piss off."

He doesn't need telling a third time. Lighter-less gives you and Ash a nod and scurries off while Ash rounds on you. 

"And what was wrong with him?"

"Fuckin' rude."

"Are we ever gonna get you laid?"

You've only been on the road with her for two days and have not been actively looking, but you don't bother telling her that. "Only when you finally give in, baby," you croon instead and Ash snorts, already moving on.

"Simon, you any good at darts?"

"No."

"Great! Go bully us into a board using that broad frame of yours and let me win, would ya?"

Something dark passes over Simon's eyes, so quickly you think you might have imagined it when he immediately changes gears, giving Ash a brief nod before skulking away.

"Isn't he fuckin' cute?" Ash hisses at you after he's gone.

"Wouldn't know," you deadpan, covering the bottom half of your face with your hand.

She swats at you. "Oh, come off it. I'm gonna climb him like a tree by the end of the night." You curse to yourself when she sways her hips after him because the worst part is, you don't doubt her.

Simon's at least considerate enough to scrounge up a table by the boards for you, so you have front row seats to the flirt fest the other two partake in. True to his word, Simon lets Ash win three games in a row, each time being rewarded with a slightly more intoxicated girl hanging from his neck. Ash gets touchier the more she drinks, and Simon doesn't seem to mind. Though you find it odd how he rarely reciprocates, content just to let her feel up his considerable pecs and grin down at her like she's being silly. You briefly wonder if he's even into her, until you catch him giving her a congratulatory smack on the ass a little too enthusiastically after her fourth win. He says he's going out for a smoke after that and you leap at the opportunity, grabbing your jacket from the booth and following him out.

"Guess I'll keep our booth occupied," Ash pouts.

"Better, had to scare off a racoon for that thing," you hear Simon rumbling as you lead the way back out onto the porch.

The night's only gotten colder since you've been inside and you're reminded yet again that you're not wearing a bra when you feel the cotton of your shirt chafe against your tight skin. You duck your head in embarrassment as you pull your flannel tighter around yourself, too distracted to notice Simon offering you a cigarette from his pack as you try to remember if you'd been egregiously nipple flaunting back inside. 

"You okay?" Simon grunts as he lights his own smoke and you jolt back to reality, find him with his mask lowered.

"Huh? Oh, uh, yeah. Just chillier than I expected." 

When he pockets his lighter, Simon keeps his cigarette tucked between his lips. Hands freed, he pulls his jacket off and offers it to you before you can get a protest out. His voice is gravelly when he insists you take it and you do, reveling in the body heat still trapped within. It smells vaguely musty, almost like a garage, but you figure that tracks and it's not unpleasant. 

You eye him over as you light your cigarette, not bothering to be all that subtle when you find him watching you just as closely. He's handsome, though you wonder if he keeps his face covered because of the cleft lip or the thick scar that crosses the bridge of his nose, a missing notch giving the slope of it a double ridge. Beneath his coat, he's just as muscled as you'd imagined, heavy texture of his thermal falling into the valley of his pecs nicely. His sleeves are rolled up, revealing more of the ink you'd spotted on his hand - a detailed skull crowned in heavy black swirls which follow the musculature of his forearm nicely. 

"None too pretty, eh?"

You let your eyes slide back up to his face, willfully overlook the ruin of his nose. "Wouldn't say that."

He narrows his eyes at you, as if searching for a lie. You know he won't find one, though, and weather it unflinchingly. Eventually he grunts in acceptance, or maybe approval. He doesn't say much after that, though you're content to enjoy the relative silence. The rowdy group from earlier have moved along, and the only other company you have out here is a couple quietly bickering down in the parking lot. Combined with the volume of the bar, it's level of noise you would have found annoying even just two days ago, but after so many hours stuck in the car with Ash's constant chatter, you revel in the lack of conversation, enjoy the minute twinge you get when you stretch your knees damn near hyperextension.

"Your friend's a bit more talkative than you," Simon eventually observes, voice neutral as to whether or not he likes that about you.

"My friend is quite social," you hedge, and laugh when Simon looks like he has something to say about that.

"Your friend has an agenda."

"That obvious?"

"Less obvious: is it a good idea?"

"Well why would you ask me that, when I have a vested interest in keeping the two of you apart tonight so I don't have to stand around awkwardly while the cab is a'rocking, you know what I mean?"

Simon smiles, first time all night. It does nothing to reduce his severity. "Well, you're welcome to join instead."

You can't help but scoff at him, though your laugh turns more nervous when he gives no indication of joking. "About the only thing worse than listening to Ash scream like a banshee from outside the truck, would be listening to her scream like a banshee from inside the truck. Thanks though."

He returns your grin, but it seems a bit tight. You squint at him, trying to get a feel for how insulted he actually is, but he's unflinching, unbothered. Simon's silence unnerves you, and you work to fill the void despite your earlier easiness within it. "Which, uh… Which one's yours?" You nod at the line of trucks on your left and his dark eyes follow the movement. 

Shaking his head, Simon steps into your space and angles you toward the other side of the lot. Leaning across your back, his big hand floats into your peripheral where he points at a bland, gleaming shape parked within the shadow of the building. It takes your eyes a moment to adjust to the low lot light in the corner, more a single porch light than anything. For a moment, it looks like any other of the million big white cabs you've seen crawling all over god's green earth, but then Simon clicks his fob behind you, and the lights flash, the dome light within turning on just long enough for you to catch a lacey little number hanging from his rear-view through the dark tinted glass, and then you notice the distinctly teeth-shaped grill you'd memorized in your passenger mirror earlier today. Your blood runs cold despite the heat of Simon behind you, you're tense, ready to flee even without your friend in tow. Your muscles don't listen, however, locked in place like a spring trap with no quarry. And then the crack of a breakshot from within the bar racks your nerves, has you spinning around to find Simon staring back down at you intensely, eyes dark enough to rival his truck's.

"You want that back? Kinda cold out here." His eyes dart down to your chest, as if he can see through the layers you've covered yourself with.

Part of you wants to yell at him, demand answers. A younger, squirrelier version of you probably would've slapped him. Instead, you slip past him wordlessly and make a beeline for your friend. "Ash," you hiss when you spot her, still at the booth where you left her. "Ash, we have to go -."

"Is that Simon's jacket?" She looks offended. You would roll your eyes at her if you had time to argue.

"Yes. Not important. Look," you take the jacket in question off, spare a brief thought for the base instinct telling you to rifle through his pockets. "Simon is the trucker I flashed. I think he followed us here."

"Oh, Jesus, Betty. That guy's probably already forgotten about you. You know how many people flash truckers every day?"

"In what world -? Is this National Lampoon's?" You huff, calm yourself. "Ash, I saw his truck, it's him, and I wanna go."

"You saw a white truck with a black cab, you mean? Spooky," she deadpans.

"He had my fucking bra hanging from his rearview -."

"You went in his cab?"

"No, fucking -."

"Did she go in your cab?"

You still, drawing yourself back to your full height from where you'd wound up leaning over your friend. Behind you, Simon steps close enough you can feel his heat again, smell that stale garage scent. "No," he shrugs and Ash eyes you both suspiciously.

"Here." You shove Simon's coat back into his chest, disappointed when you don't manage to move him an inch. Turning back to your friend, you dangle Ash's keys in her face. "I'm leaving. I encourage you to join."

"I can't even finish my beer?"

You don't bother to answer, storming back toward the door with enough confidence to have her scrambling after you.

"Jesus, what is your problem?" She hisses once the bar door slams shut after her. 

You point at Simon's truck, distinct chrome grill giving Ash pause for all of two seconds. "Could be anyone's."

"He asked me if I wanted my bra back, Ash."

Behind her, the bar door opens again. Simon's wide frame fills it for a moment, before stepping out onto the porch, casual as can be. He lights up another cigarette, eyes heavy on you all the while. He doesn't seem to notice when Ash waves at him. This time when you walk away, the crunching of gravel under foot is the only indication you get that your friend is following. She's silent for once as she climbs into the passenger's seat. You don't bother adjusting anything, tearing out of the driveway with a spray of dirt and debris that would probably ruin some paint jobs. Behind you, a truck follows you out of the lot, but the twenty foot shipping container it has loaded reassures you that it isn't Simon on your tail.

Ash remains silent for a long while, though you can tell she hasn't fallen asleep yet by the quality of her breathing. When she does speak, her voice is thin and reedy. "I didn't think he'd follow us."

"I know." For your part, you wish you could muster much beyond a general grumble of annoyance. She was just being silly when she made her little dare; it's not her fault the guy had been a creep. Thankfully, it seems he'd been content to just scare you a bit, the rearview faithfully returning only one set of headlights in your wake every time you check. 

"Go to bed, Ash. If he keeps following I'll wake you."

To your immense relief, she listens, her soft breaths relaxing the tension in your shoulders. After another glance in the side view to reassure yourself you're still safe, you take some soothing breaths of your own and run through what remains of your trip's itinerary, taking comfort in how little actually remained. Nearly half way over, and after tonight you don't think it'll be too hard to talk Ash out of any more unplanned stops at local dives just to check out the native wildlife. You're pretty sure you've both seen enough, the dejected way she'd looked after Simon's ulterior motive had been revealed playing again in your mind. Poor Ash, honestly, but you suppose it works out in your favor if it means getting home sooner and with fewer scrapes.

Feeling better, you turn the radio on, low enough it won't disturb your passenger. It takes some scanning through static to find anything, and when you do you're a bit annoyed that it's country gold of all things, but you can't deny how well it fits the landscape through which you drive, the low horizon backlit by the sunset's distant memory. It's nice, for a time. Nice enough you aren't really paying attention when DJ starts spouting local headlines, the news of a young woman's body being found recently only about an hour's ride north of here going in one ear and right out the other.

next>>

[revenge-of-the-shit]

One of my favorite things about Arcane is how it subverts typical sexist tropes in Western media, as well as how it handles the portrayal of its female characters. There's a scene where Ambessa Medarda is speaking to Jayce, and she walks out of her bathtub, fully naked with no coverings nearby. In most other media, this would be a display of power in the way of the femme fatale - a slim body, seductive, sexual, fully available for the audience to see and ogle at while the male character tries not to stare. But the way Ambessa is portrayed completely subverts that. Her nudity is completely non-sexual and it's an incredible display of her power - she doesn't care if Jayce looks, because she doesn't even consider that this bathroom is anything but her own space, owned fully and wholly by herself. Jayce averts his eyes, not just out of respect but also out of fear, except his fear is completely borne out of respect for her as a person and not some bullshit fear about how her body is "ugly" or something other media would lean into for "undesirable woman warriors". The camera shows her full silhouette but doesn't linger, showing that she is large, she is a woman, and she is very clearly a warrior who has been through countless wars. This is the leader of Noxus. The very way she carries herself inspires respect.

[hihomeghere]

Fishing in the dark | Arthur Morgan / Reader

Word Count : 1.3k (a little guy) Summary : You and Arthur have a private evening away from camp on the Dakota River. Warnings/tags : Cursing, unprotected piv, talk of nudity (both male and female), cursing, reader can swim, s3x in the river, established relationship, set in chapter 3

The Dakota River was now your favorite place to be at sunset. The cool breeze coming off the sparkling water, your body cushioned by the bed of grass. The way the setting sun cast a golden light over everything it touched.

Getting away from the gang for a while had been Arthur’s greatest idea yet. After all that mess in Valentine had led you to Clemens point. Sat on the east coast of Flat Iron lake, near the town of Rhodes. Getting eaten alive by mosquitos while the heat of the Scarlett Meadows sun beat down on you.

And although you thought maybe a room in Rhodes would have been a better way to keep each other company, you couldn’t beat this view.

Arthur stood on the shore, fishing pole in hand. His tall silhouette dark against the golden light, his shadow growing longer on the rocks. What a sight, every subtle flick of his wrist, his bicep tensing and he pulled on the pole. You didn’t even know why he was still fishing so late. He had already caught dinner, which you had prepared over a small fire. While along the shore you had picked some burdock root and common bulrush for camp, knowing that Miss Grimshaw could find some use for the plants. At long last the sun fell below the horizon, a sliver of burnt amber spreading across the sky before being enveloped by a dark blue. The moon slowly rose above you. A beautiful yellow spotlight peeking through the trees.

Arthur stood, still as a statue, as though he was carved of marble. A wicked thought entered your head, slowly you moved to unlace your boots. Pulling them off until you could dig your toes into the grassy floor beneath you. Then you untied the strings to your skirt. Letting the fabric fall, along with your shirt. Leaving you standing in only your chemise, and it wasn’t long before that was discarded as well.

Arthur had heard the slight rustling of fabric behind him, but he was honestly too preoccupied with the pole in his hands. Enjoying the quiet serenity of the river. That was until you ran butt ass naked into it.

“Darlin!” He yelled his eyes widening in shock as your laughter joined the sound of water splashing.

“Come on cowboy!” You called submerged to your waist, your breasts above the water for any passersby to see. Maybe it wasn’t your best idea yet, the freezing water chilling your bones.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He chuckled, unfortunately amused by your actions even though he knew he shouldn’t be.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” You called back, teeth chattering by the sudden drop in temperature.

“It looks like you’re giving anyone that passes through a free peep show.” He called his hand resting on his gun belt as he not so casually adjusted himself. You stepped back further into the dark water until only your shoulders and up were visible.

“When did you become such a prude?” You chided a teasing smile on your lips.

“When someone could lay eyes on my woman.” He said laying down his pole, crossing his arms over his chest. You felt a shiver run down your spine, whether it was from his words or the cold water you couldn’t tell.

“Well get in here and claim your woman before someone else does!” You called, a shit eating grin spreading across your face.

Arthur sighed, looking down as the brim of his hat shielded most of his face from you. Your grin only grew as he unbuckled his gun belt, letting it fall to the ground. He pulled his suspenders off his broad shoulders. He shook his head, his own grin growing on his face as he began to pull off his clothes.

“You’re gonna get it girl.” He warned, his eyes taking on a dark haze. His lips pulling back into a smirk, looking down at you like prey. An electric shock of anticipation ran up your body as he finally pulled off the last layer, his cock springing up against his stomach. He stepped forward, wading into the water. “Jesus!” He yelped, a shiver running through him.

“It’s not that bad!” You called with a laugh.

“Not that-“ He shook his head, “Christ I can’t feel my toes.” He muttered swimming over to you, his arm wrapping around you pulling you close. You wrapped your legs around his waist as you held onto his shoulders

“Hey there.” You grin, watching the water droplets run down his face.

“Howdy.” He muses, you place your hands on his chest, feeling his heart beat against your palm.

“Still cold?” You ask sweetly.

“Very.” He chuckles.

“I think I could warm you up.” You say biting your lip.

“Please do.” He says softly as you lean forward. Your nose bumping against his as you stare him down. He leans forward pressing his lips against yours. His tongue swiping along your lower lip as he pressed you down onto his pelvis. Clenching around nothing as his cock bumped against the nub of your clit, a soft moan leaving your throat.

“I can feel that.” You said softly, biting your lip as you looked into his eyes.

“I’m sure you can.” His chest rumbling as he chuckled. He moved his hand from your waist and reached down between your legs. The tip of his length catching against your entrance. “Think you’re wet enough?” He teases, his teeth glinting in the moonlight as he smirks.

You bite back a rebuttal as he slips inside you with ease, he swallows your gasp as his mouth covers yours. Groaning into your mouth, a deep almost primal noise. One that sends pleasure shooting through your body. You whine as he pulls out slightly, only to press your body down onto his pelvis. His cock rubbing against that spot inside you.

He knows this dance like the back of his hand, how to make you tick, more specifically how to make you scream. The hand that’s not holding your hip with a vice like grip moves up your body, his hands splayed against your stomach. Before reaching up to cup your breast, pinching your nipple.

“Arthur.” You gasp, feeling him rut against you, growling against your neck like a wild animal.

“Feel so good darlin’.” He huffs against your neck, nipping and kissing as he continues his attack on your pussy. His cock thrusting deep strokes against your walls. Your body is buzzing, your toes curling as he brings you closer and closer to your peak. He can feel you flutter around him, his lips quirk up. He moves his hand down to between your legs, rubbing your clit.

You cry out, a pitiful noise as you cum around him. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your brows knit together as your jaw hangs open. He smirks, tilting his head back as a low, shit, leaves his mouth.

His hips start to stutter as he pounds into you, trying to reach his orgasm while you’re still working through yours. He’s quick behind you, his hands holding you so close against him you’re sure you’ll have bruises. He thrusts into you one last time, a choked groan rumbling in his chest. You hold onto him as his dick twitches inside of you. Painting your insides with his seed. You smile up at him lazily, watching his face contort in pleasure.

“Shit darlin’.” He huffs, his chest rising and falling rapidly against your own. The bite of the water is no longer a thought as his warm body presses against yours.

“You warm now, cowboy?” You tease brushing your nose against this neck, pressing a kiss over his pulse point.

“Very.” He chuckles, “But I’d like to get my beautiful girl out of these waters now.” He says grabbing a handful of your ass before throwing you over his shoulder. “I ain’t done with you yet.”

[galacticgraffiti]

⋆☾⋆ Big Love Ahead ⋆☽⋆

!!! NSFW ⋆ 18+ ⋆ Minors DNI !!!

Summary: Halsin rescues you after you get hurt in a fight, and you get to spend some time with him during the spring and summer months as he nurses you back to health. And maybe, you start to wonder what it would be like if his hands touched you for different reasons than just to heal you…

Rating: Mature/Explicit (for horny nudity not smut) Wordcount: 4.5k Descriptors: The first two chapters are fairly genderneutral. Reader's physique is not really described aside from being quite a bit shorter and smaller than Halsin. CW: Fluff, softness, (physical) hurt/comfort, being nursed back to health by Halsin, pet names, this is achingly sweet, flirting, banter, oblivious pining, rated explicit for the eventual smut in chapters to come

✦⋆ Main Masterlist ⋆✦⋆ If you prefer AO3 ⋆✦

⋆༻༺⋆༺༻⋆••●••⋆༺༻⋆༻༺ ⋆

Chapter 1: The Druid

He is the one who finds you.

Heavy footsteps make the earth vibrate beneath you, then soft fur presses against your bloodied cheek. You let it happen only because you can’t escape. It’s a miracle you’re still alive, if you are honest with yourself, and you are quite sure this is just a dream.

Surely, it must be a dream, right? To be lifted, not by paws but big, strong hands, to be carried out of that violent grove that nearly became your grave. To be placed upon the softest thing you have ever felt, and to see skin turn into fur once more as he lays beside you. Surely, a dream.

You close your eyes, and you drift off.

*****

When you wake up, you are disoriented beyond all hells, and alone.

Your entire body aches, but when you look down, you see that all your wounds have been mended and wrapped in neat bandages. Some of them smell of forest and herbs, others of things you have no words for describing.

Sitting up makes your head spin, so you decide to close your eyes again. Just… for a moment.

*****

It’s night when you wake up, though once you think about it, you are not sure how you know. Was it this dark the last time you woke up? You think there was some light - you saw the bandages, you could see the shape of your body beneath the sheets… But now, there is just darkness, so black it scares you, heavy like a blanket made from a thousand deaths.

Your heart starts to race, and you feel yourself breaking out in sweats as you think about your lost friends - all of them laying bloodied and broken on the battlefield like dolls, with slit throats and arrows in their hearts.

You groan in pain when you sit up, and the edges of your vision start to blur.

“Careful, now.”

The voice startles you. It comes from the opposite end of whatever room you are in, too far away for you to reach out and touch, and even with all your squinting, you can’t see anyone. Your fingers grip the sheets tightly.

“Who are you? Why did you bring me here?” Your voice is scratchy and raw, and your throat burns from the dryness. You cough, doubling over as you try to inhale some air to fill your desperate lungs.

“Shh, don’t die on me now, little flower.” 

The voice is much closer now, and out of habit, your hand slides down your thigh to where you usually keep your knife. It’s not there - of course it’s not, you are not wearing anything more than you’d need to guarantee the smallest amount of decency.

Panic rises in your chest, a sour taste coating your tongue.

“Who are you?” You repeat, out of breath from those few words.

“I saved you.” A flame is lit only a few feet away from you, and your eyes hurt from the sudden light. You squint, trying to get used to it. All you can see is the faint silhouette of a… man. A broad-backed man, taller than you have ever seen, with long hair and a gentle face. Pointed ears peek out from beneath soft curls, and you stare at him. 

An elf? With this… frame? Who the hells is this guy?

He looks at you calmly, patiently waiting for your reaction.

“Saved me?” The question makes you cough again. A hand appears in front of your face, offering you a waterskin. You accept it without much hesitation - what choice do you have? If he wanted to kill you, he would have done it by now.

The water hurts as much as it helps - cool and fresh as it runs down your dry throat. You take a few careful sips and damn near end up coughing your lungs out again. The hand takes the water away from you gently.

“That’s enough for now. Slow down, or you’ll make yourself sick.” His voice speaks more of concern than command. You let go, pressing back into your little corner.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you say finally. “Who are you?”

The man steps back into the shadows, his back turned to you. He is scarred and marked in ways only people from the wilds ever are, and that calms you a little. He is not a soldier.

“Rest for now,” he says. “We will talk when you wake again.”

You want to object, but large, warm hands press you down into your soft bedding again and pull the blanket up over your shoulders. Your eyes flutter closed - you are tired, so tired still. Distantly, you wonder how much time has passed since the grove.

“Wait,” you whisper, your hand finding his larger one in the dark. Your fingers curl weakly.

“What is it? Something you need?” Once again, his only feeling seems to be concern.

You slowly shake your head and regret the motion immediately when you taste blood on your tongue.

“No, I don’t- just… thank you.”

He stills in your weak grasp. Moments pass, then finally, his voice comes again, sounding oddly sad.

“You are welcome, little one.”

*****

You find a rhythm after that, sleeping and waking. Sometimes he’s around, sometimes he is not. You realise that the supposed room you are in is little more than a cave decked out in some essentials.

After a few days, you finally learn his name: Halsin.

Halsin looks after you, and you don’t question why. He does not talk much, but the look on his face never makes you doubt that the only thing he wants is for you to get better.

You drink more water, and after a few days, Halsin finally allows you to eat: Stew, not much, fed to you by his large hand holding a spoon that seems much too small for him.

When the food stays down, Halsin allows you to eat more and more, and you get some of your strength back. Your body still hurts, but all your bones seem to be in the right place - though some are definitely still broken, as you discover when you try to lay on your side.

Some days after you first remember waking up, you manage to sit up all by yourself and your fingers can hold the spoon for the first time. Halsin watches you carefully, whittling away as you eat a bowl of stew. And another. And another.

“Someone was hungry,” he smiles.

“Hungry as a bear,” you grin. He furrows his brow. You swear his eyes seem golden, but it’s probably just the light of the fire. He stares into the darkness for a moment, then puts his knife to the side. Before you can ask him what is wrong, he is gone.

****

Halsin returns the next day, back to his usual self. You wouldn’t quite call it ‘chipper’, but none of the worry that graced his features yesterday seems to remain. You decide it is wisest not to ask about it. If there is something you need to talk about, he will tell you in time.

When Halsin tucks you into bed that night as has become his habit, you notice - not for the first time - how good he smells: Of fresh grass and summer rain, of wood and smoked leather. You become acutely aware that you yourself have not had a bath in quite some time.

“Halsin?” You bite your tongue, feeling awkward about asking.

“What is it?”

“Do you… well. I think I should take a bath.”

Halsin cocks his head. You can see the cogs in his head turning, behind his soft, round features. He crosses his arms, and your heart flutters at the sheer swell of his biceps. You shake your head to shoo the unwelcome thought away.

“Well. there is a stream close to the cave…” he says slowly.

You nod excitedly.

“Perfect! I can-”

“You are still very injured, little flower,” he interrupts you - not rudely, but firmly. “You can barely stand up, let alone walk all the way there. The stream is dangerous, and I do not want you injuring yourself-”

“Carry me, then,” you propose hastily, more in jest than anything else. A small smile tugs on the corners of Halsin’s eyes.

“You can’t stand on your own either, and only one of your arms has healed enough for you to wash yourself.” He quirks a brow. “Have you got a solution for that too, little one?”

“You can wash me,” you suggest, this time fully certain he will recognise the joke.

Halsin chuckles to himself and shakes his head.

“All that effort- for what? Your wounds are clean, and you are getting better every day. Have I not taken care of you? Is there something I missed? If you tell me-”

“You smell good,” you say before you can think about your words. Halsin’s eyes widen by the smallest fraction, but he stays quiet, so you drone on. “You smell like forest and fresh pine, and meanwhile, I have been wasting away in this cave for weeks now. I want to… I don’t know. I want to feel like less of a burden, I suppose. I want to feel like myself again.”

“Oh.” Halsin takes your hand, very gently, like a doctor calming his patient. It still makes your heart race. “You are not a burden. Taking care of you has been my privilege.”

“You’re sweet,” you whisper. Halsin lets go of you.

“Do you… do you think a bath would help you feel better?” he asks, his voice serious. “I know I don’t provide much entertainment-”

“I like it when you are around,” you admit quietly. “I like watching you whittle. Your presence calms me.”

At that, Halsin lets out a roaring laugh that takes you totally by surprise - so much so that you simply fall into laughing with him. You cannot grasp what he could be laughing about, but seeing him so happy - knowing you are the one who made him laugh - it makes your heart stumble.

“Fine,” Halsin says when he can breathe again. “Alright, little one, if a bath is what you want, a bath is what you shall get.”

*****

When he returns the next day, for the first time, you notice that you have no idea where he sleeps. He laughs the questions off as he looks over your various wounds and ailments.

These inspections have become a ritual that both excites and frightens you: It excites you because it means Halsin’s big hands on your body, stroking, nearly caressing, touching (almost) every inch of you. It frightens you because you are scared he will notice how much you like it. And it scares you to think that one day, there might not be anything for him to look at - and when your wounds are healed, where will you go?

 You scoot to the front of your makeshift bed when Halsin asks you to, dangling your feet over the edge. When he kneels between your thighs to examine a particularly deep cut in your upper thigh, it takes all your strength not to cup his jaw and ask him to kiss you.

You daydream yourself away - dream of the way his hands look on you, of the way the light bounces off his irises and makes it seem like they are glowing. You dream of his lips and how soft they might be against yours, and you try to remember that feeling when he first found you - the softness of fur - might it have been his hair?

“Alright,” Halsin declares, interrupting your yearning thoughts. 

“Alright?” you ask, looking down at him. He stands, suddenly towering over you. You swallow thickly.

“I think… it’s time for my little patient to have a bath.” He smiles and offers you his hand. You feel like you have been punched in the stomach when he calls you his patient. Is that all you are to him? Just some… girl he needs to heal? Someone he found and took responsibility for? Still, you take his hand and slide off the bed.

Your legs give in nearly the second they touch the ground, but Halsin’s strong arms are there to catch you. He lifts you like you weigh no more than a feather. His arms feel familiar, and comfortable, and like you could fall asleep in them forever and ever. You sigh happily and snuggle against his broad chest.

When you realise what you are doing, your eyes snap open, terrified of your own actions.

“Sorry,” you mumble, your cheeks aflame with embarrassment. Halsin’s chest shakes against you.

“No need to apologise. I am happy you feel comfortable in my presence.”

“Mhhm.” You try to hide your face as best you can, lest he recognise the emotions that must be showing.

Halsin carries you carefully, stopping as you get closer to the light near the entrance of the cave.

“Close your eyes, little one. You haven’t been outside in quite a while, and the sun is bright today.”

You follow his instructions, pressing your eyes shut. The air smells fresh and sweet when he steps out of the cave, and the rays of sun that dance on your face warm you from the inside out. You blink carefully, lids still half closed as you take in your surroundings: The formation of rocks that makes up your cave, the meadow below you, the quiet gurgle of a stream behind a grove of trees.

“Oh.” The noise is barely more than a breath that escapes you, but when you look up at Halsin, a bright smile illuminates his features.

“Beautiful, is it not?”

“Yes!” you nod your head enthusiastically, too distracted by the beauty around you to notice the way Halsin’s eyes linger on your face.

“I am glad you think so.” His arms tighten around you for a moment as he adjusts his stance. “Are you feeling alright? The place I had in mind is not far.”

“I am wonderful,” you assure him, closing your eyes as you bask in the sun. You never noticed how much you missed all of this until now. Halsin’s company is the best you could imagine, but the cave gets lonely from time to time. You like being outside, hearing the birds sing again, watching the clouds that sail through the sky above.

“Right then,” Halsin nods. “Onwards we go.”

It really is not a long walk - it barely takes a minute. The quiet corner of the river is tucked between two bends, next to a big weeping willow. It’s warm outside, much warmer than you expected, and you dare to hope the water might not be ice cold.

Halsin stops right next to a small pool of water, set apart from the rest of the river by a few stones, carefully placed - much too neat to be a natural occurrence.

“I made a bath for you,” he says, sounding quite pleased with himself. “I knew you could never withstand the current, not in the shape you are in, and…”

You look up at him, awed by his care and affection.

“Thank you,” you whisper. Halsin smiles quietly.

“Whatever I can do to help, it’s my pleasure.” He points at the pool with his chin. “Do you think this will suffice?”

“Oh, it will more than suffice,” you nod, practically vibrating with excitement. Finally, after all this time, a bath. Feeling clean again. 

Halsin seems to consider something, his brow furrowed with concern.

“I did not think about… where to put you down.”

You look at him in confusion and he shrugs, your weight not even slowing his shoulders in the movement. Your heart leaps.

“I mean,” Halsin explains, averting his eyes from yours tactfully, “that you will have to undress before you get in. Now, as you may have noticed, I enjoy nature in all of her forms, but I know not everyone is so… inclined.”

You swear you see a blush creep into his cheeks. His eyes flashing golden in the sunlight. Your heart flutters when you finally understand what he is trying to tell you.

“Oh!” you exclaim then, wiggling in his arms. This could not go better if you had planned it. You didn’t even think of this when you asked for a bath, but oh dear, did fate give you a good hand today. “I don’t mind if you stay, Halsin.”

“I want to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.” He sounds almost like he is trying to convince himself. “I made that pool of water quite deep so you could sit in it, though it is shallow enough the sun should have warmed it up a bit…”

“I would jump into the ice seas if only it meant a chance for a bath,” you chuckle. You tug at Halsin’s arm. “Put me down, please.”

He sets you down on the ground so gently as if you could break. You find your footing after a moment, holding on to his big arm until your head stops spinning, waving him off when he bends down to look at you with concerned eyes.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Promise.”

Halsin stares at you, but he doesn’t drag you back to the cave, so you take that as a sign of faith. You take a deep breath and start peeling out of the few layers of fabric you have on you. Reaching for your bandages, you hesitate.

“Should I leave those on?” you ask. Halsin’s eyes snap up to yours, and you nearly giggle at the look on his face. He has the expression of a bear caught with his paw in the honeypot.

“Oh… no,” he answers finally. “You can take those off, I’ll put fresh ones on after your bath.”

“Mhhm. You take such good care of me.”

You start peeling the bandages from your maltreated body, dedicating all your energy to staying upright. Halsin’s eyes never leave you, roaming up and down your naked body, but you are far too focused on the task at hand to notice.

This is the longest you have been on your legs in weeks, and your thighs are already starting to burn. Quickly, you finish unwrapping yourself. Before you can figure out a plan of how to best get into the water, strong hands slip beneath your arms and lift you up.

You squeal with joy as Halsin slowly lowers you down into the water.

It’s warmer than you expect, yet still cold as all hells. Goosebumps rise on your body and you shiver. Halsin stops moving, you, halfway submerged, hanging limp in his arms.

“Are you alright?”

Your teeth are not exactly chattering, but it takes some effort to keep it that way.

“‘M fine,” you say. “It’s just… a b-bit cold. But I’m okay. You know, I wasn’t kidding when I said I’d take the ice seas earlier.”

Laughter rumbles from Halsin’s chest like thunder. It makes you smile. He laughs so much more now than he used to.

“Fine. I’ll- just give me a moment.”

You are gently placed down in the pool, cold water up to your neck. Halsin makes a dissatisfied sound.

“Seems I overestimated your size, little flower.”

“Not hard to do when you’re this big,” you mumble, turning around to look up at him, gesturing at his silhouette that stands out against the sun- and stop. 

Your jaw nearly hangs open when you are faced with a nearly naked Halsin. You blink and shake your head, ready to believe that the cold may be causing hallucinations. Maybe you never woke up from your sickbed - maybe this is a dream. Maybe you died on the battlefield and this is Celestia.

Halsin sheds the last layers of clothing covering himself, and it’s all you can do not to say fuck me quite loudly. You bite your lip, but before you can even process the situation, Halsin has slipped into the self-made pool with you.

The water seems to heat up the second he is in there with you, his body so close to yours you could barely fit a leaf between the two of you. His eyes are bright gold in the sunshine, and he takes a deep breath, his chest expanding.

You stare and stare and hope you are not being all too obvious about it. Carefully, you take a step back only to slip on the muddy ground.

Halsin catches you easily, your body pressed against his, and you think that the water might start to boil any second now.

“Thanks,” you murmur, straightening up. His hand lets go of you as he takes a step back himself - the furthest he can go, even though there is stll barely space between you.

“Are you warm enough now?” he rumbles, sounding amused. There is a note of something else in his voice - a strain; not impatience, but something close to it. You press your hands to your sides awkwardly.

“Yeah… yeah, this is better. Thank-”

“No need to thank me.” Halsin interrupts you, abruptly turning around, away from you. The water that is up to your neck barely reaches halfway up his back. “I shall stay here so you don’t get sick on top of all your other injuries. Take all the time you need.”

You wish the water wasn’t so clear that you can see every detail of his backside. You wish his hair was not so soft, shining in the sun. You wish you could not see the muscles of his back ripple when he shifts, and that his shoulders would not look so perfectly round and juicy it makes your mouth water. You wish it was not so hard to avert your eyes.

A golden glitter in the water catches your eye. It travels up Halsin’s calf, his thigh. He shakes his head like he is swatting away flies, and the spark in the water fades.

What the hells was that?

You frown; but the water is winning you over. Your legs already hurt from standing, though the water makes the weight more bearable, and as much as you wish to stay here forever, tucked closely into your little corner of the world, feeling Halsin’s body next to yours, you have to admit you are feeling a little tired.

So, you get to work, scrubbing yourself down, dunking your head into the water and trying to extrapolate the filth from your hair. You are fairly certain Halsin must have at least wiped you down with a washcloth after rescuing you, since your body is not still covered entirely in guts and blood and dirt, but you have not had a proper bath in so long.

You sigh quietly as you wash your hair, your shoulders, your thighs, scrubbing and scrubbing until you feel raw in the best way. One of your arms hangs uselessly by your side, the bone on the mend but not healed, and soon, your other arm burns with exhaustion.

Halsin has not turned around to face you, though from his relaxed stance you are guessing he is probably basking in the sun with his eyes closed. You try and push through the pain and exhaustion, but eventually, you have to admit defeat.

“Halsin?” You tap his shoulder blade. A flash of light appears in the water, gone as soon as it came. His neck turns slightly.

“Yes?”

“Can you… help me?” you ask shyly. Finally, he turns around, his expression soft and controlled.

“What do you need help with, my angel?”

You shiver at the gravel in his voice, at the way he looks at you - with eyes burning, though you don’t dare to hope it may be desire. Maybe he is just getting impatient.

“I can’t reach,” you explain and point to your back. “Not with this arm, and-”

Large hands roam across your body, careful to avoid all the sore spots and healing wounds.

“Of course,” he grumbles. “Turn around.”

You blink up at him, then carefully spin around - you have learned your lesson from last time - holding onto the edge of the pool.

Halsin’s fingers are rough, but not in an uncomfortable way. His palms are soft when he slowly rubs small circles into your back, washing away dirt and grime, showering you in his attention and his care. You catch the golden sparkle in the water again, but when you twist to see, it is already gone again. It must be the sun.

You close your eyes and let yourself sink into the feeling of Halsin so close to you.

Something tightens in your belly at the way he touches you - the gentleness his large hands are capable of more than you can handle. The way his hands could so easily wrap around your waist makes your heart stumble.

Halsin’s hands glide up your back easily, up to your hairline, roaming across your shoulder blades, and back down, stopping just shy of the small of your back. A quiet moan escapes from your throat at the touch, and you stiffen. Halsin carries on as if nothing has happened.

Fine. If he can ignore it, then so can you.

You are fairly certain that you are clean at this point, but Halsin is not stopping on his own, and who would you be to tell him to stop? You close your eyes and relax into his touch, into the soft pads of his fingers that dig into your shoulders in just the right way, the warmth of his body that you can feel even through the water.

“Good,” he mumbles eventually, his hands vanishing from your back.. “I know you must be tired. Are you satisfied?”

With you? Never, you want to say. What comes out instead is a vague,

“Mmhhm.”

Halsin chuckles quietly.

“Oh, you are exhausted, my love. Come on, I will take you to bed.”

Your eyes are falling shut when he heaves himself out of the water, and you can’t even open your mouth to make a silly joke about being taken to bed by him. You could slap yourself for not being able to keep your eyes open - oh, to see him one more time, to take him in in all his glory in the fading light of the day. 

Halsin lifts you out of the water easily. A shiver runs through him that makes you crack your eyes open. His irises glow golden in the sinking sun, and you smile at the sight. He smiles back at you, wrapping you in cloth, and carries you back to your cave, and back to your bed.

You are half-asleep when your head hits the pillow, so you can’t even blame yourself when your voice asks sleepily:

“Will you stay here with me tonight?”

Halsin gently pulls his hand from your grasp.

“Not tonight, my angel,” he murmurs, stroking your cheek so softly you wonder if you imagined it. “But I’ll be right outside should you need me.”

⋆༻༺⋆༺༻⋆••●••⋆༺༻⋆༻༺ ⋆

» Next Chapter

Hello my darlings! I have been consumed whole by BG3 and the big bear man, so I hope you enjoy! (Lmk if you want to not be tagged in this little series, I'm just going to tag my usuals)

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[dandelions-143]

Dance Practice

Masterlist

Part 2

Minors DNI

Pairing: Hyungin/Felix x f!reader

Wk: 1956k

Warning: nudity, oral (m. Receiving), voyeurism, slightly rough, explicit, little praise, dirty talk. Let me know if I forgot anything.

Genre: explicit smut, one-shot

Sorry for any typos or punctuation errors. I did not proofread. Enjoy!

The studio lights were almost too bright. Blaring down at you, making your already hot skin bead with salty sweat.

Dripping down your temples, your neck. Your skin glistened with a thin sheen of exertion.

Dancing had always been your passion and you spent every evening in this studio. Your movements precise and passionate. The music came to a stop as the song ended and you ended up leaning against the wall trying to catch your breath.

It’s not right.. go again. You thought to yourself.

You removed your oversized sweatshirt and threw it on the black couch that sat in the far corner. Pressing play, the music thumped and your body instantly began to move.

Just then a few of those bright studio lights went out. Your movements instantly stopped as you looked around. A mix of concern and confusion on your face until your eyes landed on a tall dark haired man standing by the light switches.

“Hyunjin, what are you-“ you began but he cut you off with a soft “shhh” and a long finger to his plump lips. You couldn’t help but laugh softly wondering what he was up to.

You two had been friends for ages. Since his pre debut days. When he was still an annoying stinky little boy who liked to pick on you non stop in school. He had grown up a lot since then. Hyunjin was a man that exuded confidence and commanded respect anywhere he went.

You two have always been close but never quite crossing that friend zone you had comfortably put yourself in. But there were moments…moments when it was just the two of you and he would touch you a certain way. Softly letting his large hand linger on your upper thigh as you sat next to him. Those eyes of his glancing at your lips and it took all of your self control not to scream for him to kiss you.

You turned around facing the wall of large mirrors, your eyes finding his reflection. “Hyunjin, I don’t have time for games.” You put your hands on your hips giving him a little scowl. You wanted to keep working on your routine in hopes of working some mistakes out.

Hyunjin didn’t say a word to you, instead he flipped off the rest of the lights.

Even though it was dark there was enough light being filtered in from the hallway that you could see his lean silhouette moving towards you.

“What the hell” you muttered and began to turn towards him but he put his hands on your hips and forced you to turn back towards the mirrors. “Stop talking and just feel.” Hyunjins lips were near your ear making you shiver a little as his breath made you shiver.

“Close your eyes and don’t move until I tell you to.” He mumbled and stood there with his warm body pressed into yours and waited. You couldn’t tell exactly where he was staring but you felt his eyes on you through the dark mirror.

You eventually closed your eyes, your heart beginning to beat rapidly in your chest. But then his body heat was gone as he walked over to the stereo system and began to play a different song from the one you were dancing to.

Within seconds you felt his hands back on your hips beginning to guide you. Making you sway your hips back and forth as he did the same. Your ass firmly pressed into him. You could feel his cock harden and you could feel his breath on the back of your neck faintly.

Once you both got the right rhythm Hyunjin slid his hands up your waist pushing your tank top up and over your shoulders, pulling it off of you and throwing it behind him. Your heart was hammering in your chest now. You wanted to open your eyes to see him so badly but you were afraid if you did this would stop. He would stop and you didn’t want his hands to leave your body.

You felt Hyunjin move around to stand in front of you. He didn’t touch you for a moment. He just gazed at you. Tracing every line, every curve of your body. He had not been able to get his mind off of you for days. Now that you were in front of him, half naked and sweaty his body responded instantly. He adjusted his hard on before moving closer to you.

He placed his hands on your shoulders and traced them up to your neck to cup your cheeks. “Hyunjin? Say something..” you breathlessly whispered to him. “What are you doing..” you bit your bottom lip when you felt his soft lips press a sensual kiss to your collarbone. “Get on your knees.” He mumbled against your skin, placing an open mouth kiss to the space just above your cleavage as one of his hands gripped your breast gently.

You let out a shuddered breath and your eyes opened instantly then. His dark brown eyes seemed to pierce right through yours. Seeing the expression on his face so filled with heated lust you did as he said and slowly lowered yourself to your knees.

“Look at me and don’t you dare take your eyes off of me, baby” his smooth voice was barely above a whisper. You watched as Hyunjin undid his leather belt with one hand and pulled his pants down. Seeing his bulge through his boxers you had to squeeze your thighs together creating a little friction that you very much craved.

“But the door..” you began but he covered your mouth with his hand forcing you closer to his hips. Your eyes widened, “let them watch. All I see is you right now.” He leaned down and took your lips with his. Slipping his tongue between your lips tasting you. His tongue sliding against yours deepening the kiss. Devouring you like he had been starving for years.. and maybe he had been when it came to you.

When Hyunjin pulled back you both were breathless, “now be my good baby and suck my cock.” He moved a strand of hair from your face and caressed your bottom lip slowly with his thumb. “I have waited far too long.” He said as he pulled his boxers down letting you get a very good view of his length.

“And I’m going to take what’s mine.” You watched as he pumped his length slowly. You moved closer licking off the small drop of precum from his tip and he instantly let out what sounded like a relieved sigh. You lifted your eyes up to his stormy gaze as you took him in your mouth.

He wasted no time and gripped the back of your head pulling you closer causing his cock to hit the back of your throat. “Fuck, baby” he grunted softly and began to move his hips back and forth. Your eyes never left his face as he fucked your mouth. All thoughts of the door being wide open and the chance of anyone seeing the dirty things you two were doing long gone.

“Take all of it” he moved faster, forcing himself down your throat causing you to gag on his cock. Tears streaked your cheeks with your mascara. The muscles in his lower abdomen and hips tensed and hardened with each hard thrust he gave you.

Hyunjin finally pulled back, a string of saliva still linking his glistening cock to your parted lips. You leaned back gasping for air but missing the feel of his thick length stretching your throat. “Now, my baby..” he paused as he helped you up on shaky legs and lead you over to the couch.

Hyunjin sat down pushing his boxers and pants down further. “Let me see that wet little pussy.” He said, stroking his cock. His hand slid easily up and down his shaft from your saliva that still coated him. You did as he said and pulled down your leggings and panties, kicking them to the side.

His eyes ran the length of your body and his hand moved a bit faster. “You have such a pretty little pussy.” His dirty words only made you more wet for him. “Come here. Let me sink myself inside of you.” You swallowed and moved over him. Your thighs pressed to his on either side of him. He positioned himself beneath you then took your hips in his tight grip forcing you down on him.

You let out a strangled cry as he suddenly filled you up. His breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Fuck me baby” Hyunjin slapped your ass, gripping it hard enough to cause bruises.

You began to move your hips, riding him slowly at first then catching your stride and moving bit faster.

You braced yourself with one hand on the back of the couch by his head and the other resting on his broad chest. Hyunjins moans made you weak.. hearing him not holding back and knowing you were the reason could have made you climax right then.

“That’s it.. you’re so tight.” Hyunjin said before raising your sports bra and capturing your hardened nipple between his teeth making you throw your head back in pure ecstasy. When you brought your head back up to look at him your eyes caught sight of someone watching from the doorway.

It almost made you stop but you noticed Felix was watching you both with a heated gaze. His right hand slowly rubbing himself through his sweats. “You like being watched, don’t you?” You heard Hyunjin mumble against your left breast before sucking hard making you hiss with a mix of pleasure and pain.

Your eyes found Felix again as you began to bounce on Hyunjins cock. Your ass slapping shamelessly against Hyunjins muscular thighs. Felix had his eyes on you now, rubbing himself faster. His thick lips parted in what you assumed was rushed breaths. “Make us both cum baby.” Hyunjins voice was slight strained and you could tell his was close. His grip on your ass tightened almost painfully.

You moved faster, your slick walls clenching around Hyunjins twitching cock. Your vision became a little blurry as your orgasm pushed its way from the pit of your stomach, burning through your entire body. Your eyes stayed on Felix during all of this. You couldn’t hear him but he was close as well. Felix had pulled down his sweats exposing himself, rubbing from base to tip.

Hyunjins moans filled the large studio, echoing just a little off the walls. You felt his lips on your neck sinking his teeth into your flesh just enough to leave a bite mark. And you could feel Hyunjins release deep inside you as he began to cum hard. At the same time you saw Felix tense and his head fell back as thick white cum coated his hand and getting a little on his sweats.

The feel of Hyunjin and the sight of Felix was more than you could handle sending you over the edge. Your cry was loud but well deserved as you came with them both. Your body heating up and tensing around Hyunjin. Your exposed breasts in his face as your cum coated his cock, making a little mess on his thighs and yours.

After your trembling subsided you were spent.. leaning on Hyunjin with your hair covering most of your face. Sweat coating you both and Hyunjins thick black hair a tangled mess. He began to move your hair away from your face so he could look at you. With a finger underneath your chin he pulled your lips to his kissing you sweetly before mumbling against them, “next time.. I want to watch while Felix makes you scream my name..”

[sirenscriptures]

𐚁๋࣭⭑ PISTOLWHIPPED ! ₊˚⊹ 𓂃 boothill x burlesque dancer ! reader.

✧‧₊˚. before reading: fem ! reader. partial strangers to lovers. use of pet names (e.g. babydoll, dolly, princess) mutual teasing. groping. thighriding. mentions of exhibitionism. mirror sex. biting. some jealous (?) boothill.

࣪✩₊˚ notes: i can’t get cowboys out of my head and mr. boothill didn’t help at all since i’ve gotten back into hsr. he is entirely to blame for this and not me btw.

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ 18+ only. minors and blank/empty blogs do not interact.

the brisk journey back to your dressing room felt much different tonight.

even in holding your breath against the thick haze of perfumes and artificial cigarette smoke that filled the dim hallway that you hurried through, your stripped away lace from onstage held in a bundle against your chest, you could feel something fresh within you swirling madly.

in passing the blurred yet familiar faces of your colleagues, there were kind eyes and warm smiles greeting you, as well as the praises and exclamations of admiration, pride, and aphrodisia being tossed at you like the shower of roses after one of your many performances.

you could only manage a smile and a few out of breath expressions of gratitude as you slipped quickly into your dressing room, promptly locking the door behind you.

even in the solitude that now enveloped you in the familiar, decorative walls, you could still feel the sensation within you. even with the ever-growing nightlife just behind the door at your back, you could feel it ready to burst forth into the stillness—like a mess of beautiful new paints onto a mew, blank canvas.

glancing into your mirror, it was completely obvious how much you were glowing. your skin looked smooth and vibrant, eyes filled with a newfound radiance. the mesh bodysuit that created the illusion of nudity perfectly framed your shape, making heads turn even at the sight of your mere silhouette cast on the wall.

with your job heavily relying on appealing to the audience with both your movements and looks, it could become easily draining to become so tangled within the ever-changing thoughts and opinions of others. there was a certain mindset that not many others possessed to work in such a place as this, and it did not come easy, not even for yourself at times.

though after a night such as this, you couldn’t help but marvel at what you saw in the mirror. and this time, it really had nothing to do with everyone else's response to your performance, though it certainly contributed to how good you felt now.

with how ecstatic you felt here in your dressing room, it was hard to believe that just a few hours ago you were the opposite. it’d felt like such a long time since the tavern had seen a night this busy. not only that, but the fact your performance was the headliner of the night with a crowd of this size certainly didn’t exactly ease the usual backstage anxiety.

as usual, all of your fiery nerves seemed to dissolve away as soon as you stepped out onto that stage. it seemed that with each lacy piece of clothing that fell from your body before the gawking and applauding audience, the more your worries fell into nothingness. every negative sensation seemed to seep even more into your confidence, making you even more adventurous with each movement.

though it all seemed a blur now as you removed your makeup, there was one handsome stranger that you couldn’t keep your eyes from the entire time. ironic, since you were the one people paid to ogle at all night.

far in the corner, almost completely obscured by the shadows of other audience members, a somewhat shady cowboy sat with his feet propped onto the table, hat only partially tipped in front of his eyes. his hair was wild yet kept, jet black, far past his shoulders.

even in the dim light, you could spot the flashy glint of the metal spurs on his boots. though your performance demanded more of your focus, your eyes couldn’t help but trail up his slender figure to his half-covered face to spot an all too familiar smirk.

the more you thought about it, the more that you realized this really wasn’t a stranger at all.

in the weeks of your prior performances, his silhouette seemed to take a permanent residence seated in that very same corner. though trying to fully recollect every night you’d seen him there was a blurry mess, you knew he only stayed to see you, and only you onstage. for after everytime you were finished and the curtain had closed, the far corner was empty, as if he were never there.

well, except one other time.

though the interaction itself was limited for words, you could feel something about this man when just standing in front of him. you were only just a bit shorter than him, yet it felt like there was a massive figure looming over you, especially when getting to see those eyes so up close for the first time.

his voice was sweet, though keeping his message to you short, only asking for confirmation of your name. nodding and giving him a welcoming smile, his closing gesture was simply to hand you a sizable bouquet of glittery red roses.

before you could even manage to chirp out a syllable of your gratitude, he’d already vanished. but that wasn’t all he left you with that night. it didn’t take you long to find the small note that was nestled within the stems:

let me stop by your dressing room next week. been dying to meet such a pretty lady.

– B.H.

boothill. the name combined with his handwritten letter had been stuck on your mind for days. even now, the image of his flirty smile was burned so clearly into your mind. those dark eyes being so fixated on you for weeks at a time was enough to make the heat rise within your cheeks.

from what you knew of him, he was a perfect mix of mystery and foolery; an attitude often dancing in between the lines of impending and satiric. he could be loud and wild one moment, the protagonist of the room, and like a passing shadow amongst the same sea of faces the next.

but when he watched you on that stage—he swore he’d never been so still in his life. even you could sense it too. a man constantly on the run as an outlaw who always stopped to give you his full attention? not any other performer in the tavern got even a mere glance from him. but you? even if it wasn’t fully true, or if you were remembering things differently in the thick haze of all of the audience's praises and sweet-scented cigarette smoke, the thought of it made you admittedly a bit giddy.

while your thoughts continued to spiral, you changed into the comfortable set of lacy nightwear that you usually wore after a night of work. it wasn’t quite lingerie, but it certainly wasn’t something you’d wear to a formal dinner.

you could only take one more look in the mirror before there was a knock on the door. slowly, the same shaky sensations from before crept up within your lower stomach. the mesh of both nervousness and excitement seemed to increase within you as you raked your fingers through your hair one final time in the mirror before approaching the door.

pulling it open, you felt the corners of your lips being tugged into a smile as you were met with those same eyes. as usual, he was dressed head to toe in black. the jacket over his shoulders was studded in flashy spikes as well as scarlet thorned floral patterns on the sides. the same design went for his pants and boots.

he smiled back, silver pupils focusing on you. behind him, you could hear the faint sound of live music playing in the distant room of the main stage.

“may i come in?” you couldn’t help but feel he sounded a bit silly trying to sound so formal with that drawl of his.

“of course.” you replied, stepping aside to allow him entrance.

even the way he walked, at least to you, showed a little glimpse of how slick he was. not only could he charm anyone he wanted that was in range at his mercy, but he could also slip away into the night if he needed to run.

he seated himself in the chair next to your vanity, eyes still scanning you in all of your glory.

“my my, she’s even prettier without all the glitz ‘n glam.” he marveled, unable to rip his gaze away from your bare face.

you felt the same flutter in your chest as you did from when you first met for the first time. but even with someone like boothill, you knew better. it wasn’t so easy for you to trust someone so blindly, even when it came to smaller interactions. you wanted to tread lightly, but there was still that somewhat sensation that was tugging at you through your lower stomach.

standing only a few feet away from him, you put a hand on your hip, eyebrow raised. “you don’t have to talk about me like i’m not in the room, boothill.”

he put his hands up after letting out a chuckle, leaning back slightly into the chair.

“apologies, pretty lady.” you noticed his eyes scanning you before narrowing back into your gaze that practically lasered into him.

he removed his hat, the mix of dark and light strands falling around his face as he ran his fingers through it.

“you’re just too gorgeous not to talk about.” he remarked with a wink, arm resting on your vanity where he placed down his hat.

doing your best to ignore the heat slowly rising within your face, you stepped slightly closer to him. you kept your demeanor firm, yet there was a part of you that just wanted to melt into his sweet talking completely.

your hand was only inches away from his own as you leaned against the vanity, looking down at him now.

“that’s all nice talk but…really, what did you come here for?” you asked straight out, hoping you didn’t sound too demanding.

he blinked up at you, a few beats of silence filled with the faint music from the outside stretched out between you both.

boothill cleared his throat, the same smile laced across his lips revealing razor-sharp teeth. “well, after seein’ you so many times on that stage, i figured i’d get to know you on a more personal level.”

you weren’t sure why, but his answer didn’t feel completely truthful. being in this business, there were probably hundreds of people who could’ve had the same surface-level answer. and for some reason boothill didn’t exactly blend in with that crowd of people.

sure, he had a way of not being noticed at first. the man was talented at getting away with a lot, and getting out of being the center of attention was one of them. but to you, even in your very brief and limited meetings so far, you could tell there was so much more to him than that.

your eyes gestured to the shimmery bouquet of roses from last week that rested against the mirror. “something tells me there’s more to it than that.”

he cocked his head at you, looking almost genuinely puzzled. “come again?”

you can’t help but giggle, giving him a playful look.

“that can’t be the only reason.” you murmur, moving close enough to where you both are almost touching. “no one comes to a show like this as much as you do just to get to know me.”

you can’t fully read his expression, but you can glimpse it changing slowly the closer you move to him. it may have been something else, but you swore you could hear a muted yet crazed whirring sound from the inside of his chest.

“and i must say…no one stares at me quite like you do when i’m on that stage, boothill.” you breathed, blinking up at him.

slowly, your hand starts to run over his own, feeling the smooth chrome of his hand even through the fabric of his glove.

“so, what was your real reason, cowboy?” you couldn’t help but tease him as your fingers gingerly stroked his knuckles that you felt tensing beneath each slight movement.

just as you thought you had the outlaw wrapped around your pretty little finger, it all seemed to fall away right from underneath you.

before you could utter another remark, he had you swiftly pulled into his lap, straddling him as he held that slicker-than-oil smirk on his face once more.

his lips crashed against your own, tongue snaking into your mouth while flecking the slightest tang of metal on your tastebuds. you responded almost immediately with an uncontained hunger, your arms being thrown around his shoulders as your hands ran through his hair, pulling him even deeper into the messy kiss.

boothill could feel you already drooling at the taste of him, the feeling of it dripping onto his face making him chuckle as he pulled away from you.

“i shoulda known y’were just a little cocktease…” he huffed, grabbing at your ass while he nipped and sucked at your neck.

“you might’ve caught me with those cute lil quips earlier, sweetheart. but i think y’forget who yer talkin’ to here.”

the words were laced with a feigning spite, as if he were speaking directly to an interrogator of the law. his teasing only persisted the more you squirmed, driving you even further into your pleasure-drunken haze.

you could feel yourself growing even more desperate, grinding yourself down against his thigh as he stripped you of your clothing one by one. even if you tried to hide it in some way, your slickness already started to leave a stain on his jeans.

“aww, you startin’ to get messy on me huh, sweetie?” you didn’t need to even see his face to know he was still wearing that same smirk.

your breath hitched at the feeling of his fingers swiping over your clit. he admired how your fluids glistened against his polished fingertips, before smearing it over your now exposed nipple. your head tossed back in response to his lips suddenly wrapping around it, tongue helping to lap up your own fluids from your skin.

it was a challenge for you to even form words at this point. you could hardly even notice that you were half naked on top of him, all with the door still unlocked. truthfully, you didn’t care. all you could focus on was boothill—the way he touched, marked and kissed you all over.

as your skirt was the final piece of clothing to fall to the floor, he smirked at the sight of your fully nude body on top of him now. no mesh, no lace, no shiny cover ups on any inch of you. and by the stars—you were so beautiful like this.

“shoot, babydoll.” he purred, pressing his lips against yours once more. “how many poor bastards wish they were in my position right now? hm?”

you couldn’t say another word before he repositioned you in front of the mirror, making you look at how much he’d marked your sensitive skin. with your back firmly pressed against his still whirring chest, you could hardly keep still anymore.

“boothill…please,” you whined, back naturally arching as you looked up at him with a glassy desperation.

he sucked his teeth, holding your face by your jaw as his other hand messily undid his belt buckle.

“where’s that tough gal from earlier, hm?” he teased, cursing under his breath as he ripped away his clothing.

occasionally, your lips would sloppily reconnect with each other. it never failed to make you whimper when his teeth would graze against your lips, almost threatening to leave some kind of mark.

it didn’t take long for you to finally feel his cock teasing your entrance. strangely, its chrome tip wasn’t cold like you expected it to feel. it was an almost flesh-like warmth, with a clear pulse that you could feel growing stronger as he moved it around your wetness.

you could feel a groan slip out from his gritted teeth as it slipped inside you with ease. you could see his head in the mirror tilting back, eyes already glazing over.

“y’know, i’ve always wondered what goes through those big-eyed halfwits’ brains when gawkin’ at you on that stage…” he choked out between deep thrusts.

with each thrust, he watched in excitement as your face became more twisted with euphoric pleasure, your moans growing louder and shakier.

“heh, i wonder how many of ‘em think they actually got a chance wit’ya.” he hissed, one of his hands wrapping around your neck as he fucked into you a little faster now.

you could hear him growling as his thrusts were both fast and sloppy. you had to grasp at the vanity to keep from falling forward with how much his pace had picked up. it felt as though his cock was both pulsing and slightly vibrating within you the closer he got to cumming.

“y’think they’d enjoy this for a show? huh…? me screwin’ their lil–mmhh–stage dolly?” he teased through his own grunts, bending you down further as his tongue slithered over your neck. “i bet you’d like it…”

the vanity started rhythmically smacking against the wall with the pace of his thrusts, hands squeezing your tits as they bounced. you let out a shattered moan, tightening around his quivering girth the closer you got.

“g-gonna cum, boothill…mmmh..!” you didn’t even know if you sounded the slightest bit coherent now, but he understood you perfectly without you even needing to say much. your body told him everything.

“let it out, princess…”

boothill groaned, unable to keep himself together anymore. his teeth sank into your shoulder as his final thrusts pulsed inside of you, causing you to seize up from the pleasure alone, letting a final shaky cry erupt from your chest.

it took a few moments to get your bearings. you breathed in shakily, allowing boothill to help you sit back up and relax your body once more. he was quick to fetch you water and seemingly very concerned with your physical state, which was an amusing contrast in behavior for him.

it didn’t take much to coax you back to your normal state. while there were quite a few marks visible on your neck and upper chest, you were sure you’d survive the prying comments from coworkers and managers, though it was sure to annoy you when the time came.

“i never knew you to be such a gentleman.” you teased as he brushed back your hair, trying not to guzzle down the water bottle in your hand.

“ya don’t know me, at least not as much as y’think you do.” he scoffed playfully, carefully pulling back your hair into a hair tie.

you glared at him. “is that a challenge?”

his eyes only slightly looked up at you through the mirror you both faced, red pupils dilated a bit. “maybe you can find out more while i walk y’home, how’s that sound?”

written by sirenscriptures. do not copy, repost, rewrite, translate, use, or post on to any other site.

tags: @houseofsolisoccasum

[undiscovered-horizon]

"Apple tree" - Kaz Brekker x Reader

[nudity]

SUMMARY: No one recognizes the melody Kaz sometimes hums to himself while lost in thought. Neither does anyone know where he disappears for entire nights or why he seems happier when he returns.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.5k

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist<<

In those rare moments when Kaz is too focused on something to pay attention to the material world, a soft hum would escape his lips as though the tune could finally wriggle out of his cluttered mind and dance along the cold winds of Ketterdam. Set free, at last!

Jesper once asked him about the melody but Kaz only gave him a puzzled look as though he wasn’t aware of his own habit. Knowing that they can’t possibly force anything from their hard-headed boss, the Crows began making bets among themselves:

‘Probably just a barkeep’s song he can’t get out of his head.’

‘Some kind of a meditation technique.’

‘Maybe it’s a song from his neighbourhood?’

‘Lullaby his mother sang to him!’

But all of their guesses were equally good. Although, a more accurate expression would be ‘equally incorrect’. As months turned into years, the mystery remained, while the nosy rogues still aren’t any closer to solving it. What’s worse, they are beginning to run out of ideas.

Arguing about the melody in hushed voices, they never see him leave - only notice his sudden absence. This part of the enigma, however, is well-known to them: Kaz will reappear in the late morning the next day, a lot more patient and relaxed than he was the night before. Where could he possibly vanish to, they wondered.

Kaz hears himself quietly sigh in relief when your quiet voice reaches his ears. The longed-for sound comes from the hall, growing louder as you walk into your bedroom. Sitting on your bed with his back against the wall, he has a perfect view of your silhouette rounding the corner and entering the room. An uncomfortable tightness presses down on Kaz’s chest, the very same sensation he felt that fateful day when your eyes met. Despite all this time, he hasn’t yet gotten used to the sight: you emerge from the hall as though you were just breathed into life, with the softness of something oblivious to the terror of the surrounding world. He likes that thought, no matter how naive it is - that he can both have you all to himself and protect you from what he is. 

“Near my garden bloomed an apple tree,” you sing to yourself. “Bloomed in white, it had red apples.”

There’s something in your voice that he can’t quite put a finger on - a sense of longing, melancholy, as though the song becomes a coded message when it brushes past your lips; like there’s a heartache you haven’t yet shared with him. He sometimes wonders how many tears you’ve cried when he wasn’t looking but the thought makes him too angry to entertain it for more than a handful of seconds.

The lack of attention you give Kaz is quite deceptive. You’re standing right in the middle of the room, undressing a little too temptingly for it to be an accident. There’s no shame or shyness left in you - after all, he’s seen all of it before, many times. His eyes burn your skin in the same way a ray of sunshine feels against cold cheeks in the middle of winter. You bask in it, the desire that still burns after all those years, even if he doesn’t quite realize it.

“Who will pick them for me when my Johnny is cross?”

A horse’s neighing diverts Kaz’s attention from you to the cracked-open window. It’s like a robbery - the smallest gap can be an entrance. Or an exit, for that matter. Although your voice is hushed, audible only to him and yourself, Kaz begins to feel envious at the notion that the night breeze could possibly carry this sweet tune to undeserving ears. Perhaps it is childish of him to think that he could have exclusive ownership of you and this little song, to finally have something he can call his own.

“He’s angry but I don’t know why. Used to visit me but I don’t know why.”

His gaze returns to you, watching closely as you sit at the vanity. The oil lamp beside you lights up only half of your face, making you appear somewhat elusive, a bird of paradise that shall escape the moment you loosen your grip around its wings. You’re taking off your jewelery, putting it away to assorted boxes with utmost attention and care. Kaz can relate to this, in a way - years ago, when your romance was only buds about to bloom, he warned you that you should find another man, someone who can give you the lavish lifestyle you deserve and intimacy you certainly want. But you were more than unwilling to listen and that was, perhaps, your last mistake as the moment you gave yourself to him, Kaz was going to fight tooth and nail to keep the status quo. He is a crow, after all - a greedy collector of treasures.

“He visited me all spring, asking mother when I would grow.”

For the first time this evening, your gaze deliberately meets his. You’re still sitting at the vanity, sideways to Kaz, and you have to look over your shoulder to see his face. In that moment, there is something so divine about you, he begins to doubt his senses. His mind relates to various frescos and paintings of the Saints he has seen. Those same pieces of exquisite artistry bring thousands of people to their knees, bowing in front of faces as gentle as yours. Their hearts suddenly rejoicing in the presence of merciful, watchful eyes that only know love and care. No Saint has ever watched over him, so perhaps it is only natural that he should start praying to you. Epiphany, after all, is not an artifact of pews, old pages and litanies - it is the moment you see yourself through the eyes of your lover, only to realize that not an ounce of your soul could ever be unlovable.

That look in your eyes - he both hates it and yearns for it. It’s like you’re staring at something worth admiring. Kaz always thinks he sees there a note of mercy; a look of compassion and understanding given to a wounded animal that tries to remain threatening. Maybe you have fallen into a trap he didn’t even know he had set.

A few minutes pass by when you and Kaz simply watch each other. The silence is filled with nothing and everything at once - unspoken promises, words of poetry and grandeur that would only attract malice if said in Ketterdam.

“Something’s on your mind,” he breaks the comfortable quietness.

“You should get some rest, love.”

Kaz has a burning suspicion that you know very well what you’re doing to him with your small, albeit still groundbreaking, confessions of adoration. The closer he grew to you, to more of those affirmations he began to notice. Mostly, they aren’t straightforward but like snowdrops in February, they are apparent to those looking for them and by the Saints, does Kaz Brekker look for the confirmation of your love, never quite satiated. In words of care, ‘go to sleep’ or ‘eat something’, he’s learned to find intimacy beyond spoken language.

“I didn’t come here for rest,” Kaz informs. No one in their right mind would choose sleep over the presence of something too divine to be considered only human.

A wide smile creeps onto your face. How is he supposed to remain ‘the Bastard’ when you’re looking at him like that? 

“Then what for?” you coax.

He cocks his head, staring at you with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Perhaps I just enjoy the view.”

“Oh my, did you just give me a compliment?” Jokingly, you put a hand on your chest. A giggle escapes your lips. 

“Would that be so awful?”

You stand up from the vanity, making your way towards him. His watchful gaze never leaves you, painting Kaz something of a predator - waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce. Climbing into your bed, you lay beside him.

“So awful I’d stay up all night thinking about it,” you say in a hushed tone.

Ever since he’s gotten comfortable with that, the motion of laying his head against your chest feels so natural to Kaz that he can hardly believe he has lived most of his life without doing so. Your muffled heartbeat rings in his ears and he unknowingly takes a deep, slow breath - you’re right here with him. Most importantly, you’re okay and that’s enough for him to put his thoughts at rest. Your hand brushes through his hair. To Kaz, intimacy feels perfectly strange.

In a voice barely louder than the calm rhythm of your heart, you finish the song that has bewitched Kaz about as much as you have:

“He visited me all summer and I kissed him for that. He visited me all autumn and I put apples in his pockets.”

When his consciousness dances along the line of sleep and wake, he feels your warm lips softly kissing his forehead. Maybe he has been wrong all along and it was you who had trapped him. Not that he has any desire to break free, of course.

[lethalchiralium]

Twice A Question, Once An Answer | Simon “Ghost” Riley x Wife!Reader

a/n: YOU THINK YOU CAN KEEP ME FROM MY STREAM OF SEROTONIN? ABSOLUTELY NOT. THIS MAN DESERVES LOVE AND A FAMILY AND A LOVING FAMILY. this was also just an entire dialogue i wrote when i got home from work at 3:30am

connected to tonight, tonight, tonight and a little more!

warnings: talks about babies, talks about simon’s past, domesticity cause simon deserves it, mentions of nudity

summary: Two times you asked your husband a question, and the one time he had the answer you needed.

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“Thought about having a boy?”

Simon’s eyes had just closed, sleep calling him like a siren. His arm was rested over his eyes. “Mmm.”

“Have you thought about having a boy?” You asked again, voice quiet as you stared at the ceiling in the dark.

“Are you pregnant?”

“No.”

“Then no.”

Your head moved to look to the left, to look at him. “Not even once? Even if we try again?”

He sighed a little, his other hand coming to scratch his neck. “I make girls, love. I’m two for two right now, not sure if I would be okay with losing my winning streak.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at his silhouette, almost wanting to reach out and touch his arm. “So you only want girls?”

“No.”

“Then you want a boy?”

“No.”

You scoffed, moving to rest yourself up on your elbows. “Well Jesus, Simon, which one is it? Boys or girls?”

He moved his arm down to his side, moving to lay on his side to face you. “I want healthy babies. Want ‘em to live happy and long lives. And I want whatever you want.”

“Simon, I’m asking your opinion.” Your hand reached out and rested on his chest, your fingertips grazing above his heartbeat.

“Yeah, and I gave it to ya. Whatever you want is fine by me.”

“You only wanted Winnie. Just Winnie.”

His hand settled on yours, thumb gliding across the back of your hand. “If I knew about Mellie when she was in your belly, trust me, I would have wanted her too.” His other hand came to rest on your bare lower stomach, fingers tracing your stretch marks. “I want you to be happy with however many babies you want.”

“So you’d be okay with twelve?” A giggle left your lips.

He grunted. “Now you’re pullin’ my leg.”

You snaked one of your legs in between his, moving to your side and now feeling his breath on your skin. “Simon, do you want a boy?” You leaned forwards and pressed your lips to his collarbone, then rested your forehead against it. “Would you be okay with a boy?”

The hand on your stomach traced your skin to your side, fingers massaging the marks he had left only an hour before. “…He’ll be loved all the same as his sisters. Just don’t be pregnant right now.”

“Trust me, I’m not. I just realized I never asked what you wanted kid-wise.” You cleared your throat. “I wanted two girls and two boys when I was a kid, but now, I just want this. I want us, and however many babies come next. But I want to know when we should stop. You need to be comfortable with it too.”

You felt his lips against your head. “…Just the girls for now. Ask me again when Mellie starts to talk back.”

“Which, at this rate, will be next week.”

Your husband chuckled a little. “Good, she’ll need to so she can bully Soap for me.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Well? I can’t do it forever - Lord knows that Soap will cockroach his way to outlive me like a spiteful bastard.”

You smacked his chest gently, moving your head back to meet his eyes in the darkness. “Don’t say that, you and Soap are gonna be neighbors and have old man fights.”

He smiled. “Yeah, so I need my daughters to back me up when he needs to get smacked the fuck up.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. “Go to sleep.”

—

“Simon.”

“Mm.”

“Why don’t you want a boy?”

He looked down at you, back curled into his chest. “Baby, go back to sleep.” He pressed a kiss to the bare skin of your shoulder.

“Just one question and then I’ll sleep.”

He let out a sigh, curling his arm a little tighter around your waist. “I want a boy if you want a boy.”

You shook your head, turning your head to look back at him. “No, that’s not it, Simon. Why don’t you want a boy?”

“…Girls are different creatures all together. I don’t see me when I was a kid in their little faces because they care about their dollhouses, fire trucks and that dumb little astronaut toy, they love each other. If we have a boy, I don’t want him to end up like me.” He rested his cheek on your shoulder. “Or be as mean as Tommy was when we were kids. My girls have love for each other I didn’t have with my brother until three years before he was killed.”

“Simon…” Your hand went to rest on his arm, squeezing it.

“If we have a boy, he’ll be loved just the same. And by sisters who will cherish him like they do each other. He’ll be different than us. Me. He’ll be different than me.” You felt his nose settle into your hair, as he whispered, “So if you want a boy, we can try for one.”

“What would we even name him?”

“Whatever you want.”

“Simon- I’m serious. If we have a boy, what would you name him?” You gently pet his arm on your side.

“Grant Thomas, after my nephew’s middle name.”

A smile on your face. “Perfect.” You turned your head back around, settling your cheek onto your pillow again.

“You’re like 600% not pregnant?”

“PMS-ing.”

“Ah, okay. Hormonal.”

“Yes.”

There was a small moment before he whispered, “What if we have another girl?”

Your arms moved to settle on top of his that were around your waist. “We’ll name her whatever you want, Simon.”

“We’ll name her whatever you want.”

“Simon.”

“What?”

“You give me all your name choices and I’ll pick one. I named Mellie, it’s only fair.” Your eyes fluttered closed again.

He grunted in protest. “Doesn’t matter what’s fair, you’re birthing our imaginary third daughter.”

You let out a huff. “Simon, I mean it.”

“I know you do.”

Your eyes opened and you looked over your shoulder, forcing him to make eye contact with you. “Then why are you arguing with me?”

“I’m not arguing.”

“Are you scared to name our imaginary third daughter?”

“No.”

You turned your head away, smacking his arm a little. “Then give me a name or something, since you don’t want to have a boy.”

He held out his hand, pinching his fingers. “…I am this close to sleeping on the couch.”

“Please?” You grabbed his hand and pulled it to your lips.

“Let me sleep on it, love.”

—

“Baby.”

“Mmhm.”

“Lyra.”

Your eyes didn’t open, sleep still claws deep in your brain. “…Hmm?”

“Lyra.” Your husband whispered right by your ear, his cheek rested just above it. “I like the name Lyra.”

“Mmm.”

“Do you like it?”

You pondered the name, letting it settle on your sleep-drunk brain. “Yes.”

“Did I wake you?”

“Go to sleep, Simon.”

———

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