Has anyone ever made hubby cockhold? I tied him down and then layed down on his chest with my bum on his mouth and then Chris's mate asked me if he could put his "LITTLE MAN" in my pussy,at that moment my man nodded and I said yes to his black friend. Then told him not to put condom on feeling very dirty and well he's tied up so with that he put small amount of lube and pushed it in half soft. And already twice hubby's size. In the end he ended up being 27cm long and As thick as a stubby. Omg couldn't walk after to even wash my box. So I thought I'll treat my man! So I kindly sat Up grabbed his hair and made him do a pro job didn't wast a drop. . wanted to ask you all. Was it then wrong to leave him bound and let Gregory fuck me all night? Omg he pumped me for over 4hrs. Both holes

Can I request something where Javier will go up to the reader at a random point during the day (when the reader is with someone) and will whisper the filthiest things to them and then go about his day as though nothing happened and then finally the reader does it back to him and he can't take it!!!

yusss here’s a drabble for you, female reader!!<3

He's a pain, isn't he? Javier knows what he's playing at, he knows exactly how to push your buttons, and what order to push them in, and he just has to do it whenever you're occupied. It started off small at first with Javier making minor sexual comments whenever you pass by, usually along the lines of "keep wearing yourself out with all those chores and you won't be able to ride me later," and "I'd ask to spend a few minutes out of camp with you, but I'd much rather make you wait." Well, enough is enough. Despite the fact that you like them, they're slowly becoming agonisingly painful, and Javier takes a sadistic pleasure in seeing you fidget and squirm for the rest of the day, struggling to keep yourself steady as you attempt to keep your mind and body busy with camp chores. It's about time you got your revenge, and you're currently waiting for the opportunity to arise. Does Javier know that you're out to get him? He seems to be surrounding himself with people today, bouncing from each camp member, nattering away and sending you the occasional smirk. What a smug bastard he can be, but you have to give him some credit - he plays this game well. Finally, after God knows how long, the opportunity arises for you to take your revenge. Javier's standing by the campfire, a cup of coffee in his hand, zoning out, probably exhausted from all that socializing.

You approach him from behind. "Javi'?" you call out, and gently press your head against his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his waist, acting like the big spoon. "Mh?" Javier responds, peering his head over his shoulder to raise a brow at you. "Do you know where my lingerie is? You know which set, your favourite one," you casually ask. "I have no idea," he replies with a small shrug. "Why do you ask?" "Oh, I think you know why." "I don't, love. How about you tell me?" Javier encourages in a flirtatious tone. He rests one of his hands over yours, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb, his gaze half focused on you. "Alright," you say with a soft sigh. "I was thinking - you've been busy today, very busy, so I might dress myself up in all your favourite things and take care of you later." "Take care of me how?" Javier lightly chuckles, as if you're somehow incapable of being in charge. "I'll take the reins, you know? Maybe I'll sit on your lap at the campfire later, grinding against you whenever people aren't looking, and eventually drag you into our tent." "That doesn't sound like you're taking care of me," Javier sarcastically comments, but his face begins to turn red when you continue telling him your evening plans. "I'll be wearing your favourite lingerie for a reason, Javi'. I know how much you enjoy seeing me in it, especially when I'm busy between your legs, wrapping my lips around your cock." Javier continues to blush, forcing himself to look away from you in an attempt to hide his face. "I know what you're doing-" "-and then I'll continue taking care of you, letting you relax as I ride you. You deserve to be taken care of, especially when you've had such a busy day," you continue, cutting his words short. "Alright," Javier sighs, licking his lips anxiously as he peers around, checking that nobody is within earshot. "You win. I understand now how... frustrating this is." "Do you?" you question. "I don't think you quite get it yet, love." You remove your arms from Javier's waist, and plant a kiss to the back of his neck before turning heel and walking away. Javier calls out after you, asking where you're running off to. "I'm going to carry on doing my chores," you innocently reply, sending him a small smile and merrily going on your way. Javier lets out a defeated groan, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, wincing as he feels the hard fabric of his pants brush over his erection. He removes his poncho from his shoulder, letting it fall over his body in an attempt to cover his obvious tent. Another gulp and he's finished his coffee, discarding it in the washing up pile as he walks past Pearson's wagon, trailing into the forest to get a head start on tonight's antics.

Could you please write something about "Charles Smith being tender and possessive of his wife", I love your writing ✨🖤

thank you<3 here’s a drabble for you

"Don't you dare touch her," Charles spits, standing tall as he marches over. He only popped out to use the outhouse, trusting that you'll behave, keeping yourself occupied whilst leaning against the bar. However, a stranger assumed you were another working woman, just like the other women in the Saloon, and it doesn't help that you're dolled up tonight, celebrating yet another year of marriage with your husband. Charles can be intimidating when he needs to be, even in his embroidered shirt and smart pants, his iron still hanging from his hip, as it's unfortunately unsafe to leave without one. You were gushing about how beautiful he looks the second he slipped his clothes on, and you continued babbling away as you helped braid his hair, followed by him lacing your corset whilst he placed soft kisses behind your ear, whispering "I know you think I'm beautiful, but just you wait until you see how you look." And even now, with his chest puffed out, his fists clenched tightly, and that protective look in his eye, he still looks beautiful. Charles slips his hand around your waist after swatting away the strangers hand that was reaching out to grasp you. The stranger opens his mouth, and from the furious red blush on his cheeks, you can only assume that he was about to insult you both. However, Charles cuts him off. "I don't want to hear it, you leave us be." The stranger rolls his eyes, but quits his efforts, trailing off to find somebody else to pester. Charles turns his attention to you, his stance instantly relaxing as his gaze meets yours. The grip around your waist playfully tightens, and despite the thick layers of your clothing, you can still feel Charles's thumb stroking over your back, a comforting motion that he often does without realizing. "Are you alright? Did he do anything?" Charles questions. As he speaks, he places his other hand on your chin, tilting your head up tenderly and watching your eyes, checking for signs of discomfort. "He didn't do anything, you got here just in time," you smile, and Charles sends a smile twice as soft back at you. "Good," he sighs as he pulls you against his chest, urging you to rest your head on his shoulder. "It seems I can't leave you alone for two seconds without you causing trouble," Charles jokes, biting at his tongue to prevent himself from chuckling. "Well, it's a good thing I've got you to save me from it," you reply. Charles places a kiss on your forehead before pressing his cheek against your head, his fingertips fiddling with the fabric of your dress, subtly kneading at you. "Yeah," Charles sighs. "You've always got me."

“Is that my shirt?” “You mean our shirt?”

For the prompt thing. F! Reader and Micah? If you can, thank you 😊🐀

Thank the lord, for the notorious Micah Bell has decided to come to bed for once. It's a rare sight, seeing Micah unwind and climb into bed beside you, letting out an array of soft grunts and groans as he hits the floor (probably over-doing them for dramatic effect.) Micah slithers up to you, snaking a hand around your waist, pulling you tightly against his chest like the needy bastard that he is.

You snuggle into him, your eyes falling shut, and you're about to fall asleep until Micah speaks up. "What is this?" Micah questions, tugging at the fabric around your body, kneading the vaguely familiar texture. "Is that my shirt?" he asks, deciding that the fabric is the same one that hugs his stomach on the daily.

"You mean our shirt?" you correct him with a soft and smug laugh, and despite not being able to see Micah's face, you know that he's rolling his eyes at your comment.

"Our shirt..." he mutters beneath his breath. "Needy thing. Guess you'll be wantin' to wear my hat next?"

"Like you don't take up every opportunity to place it on my head," you scoff. Micah places a kiss on his forehead, resting his lips against your skin as he continues talking, his facial hair brushing against your hairline.

"I already told you, you look nice in it," Micah tuts. "What's mine is yours, doll. But you ain't havin' those revolvers of mine," he warns, as if you could ever forget just how precious those guns are to him.

"Alright, I'll settle for Baylock," you gleefully thank him, peeking your head up to press your lips against his, only for Micah to playfully swat you away, scoffing at your bold remark.

"Watch it, sweetheart. You're on thin ice!"

my husband (charles smith) + “let me take care of you” (sick or nsfw ;) )

OBVIOUSLY I'm going to go with the NSFW option. I know you mentioned a female reader, but this came out gender neutral instead :^) --- "What's a matter?" Charles questions for the tenth time tonight. You can be quite the fidgeter, but tonight has been worse than usual, all thanks to the heated sensation between your thighs. It doesn't help that Charles has been feeding it, caressing your thighs as you sit on his lap, attempting to distract you from the campfire stories by discreetly kissing along your neck. "Nothing," you quietly reply. Charles lets out a defeated sigh, beaten yet again by your stubbornness. "Come on, something's up. Tell me." You briefly pause, shuffling higher up on his lap, speaking directly in his ear in an attempt to be seductive and secretive. "You know what's up, Charles." "Oh?" Charles replies with a quirked brow and a smug expression. He kneads your thigh yet again, dangerously close to your crotch, and kisses that soft spot behind your ear before whispering "let's go to bed then." "Now?" you almost stutter your response. Charles is playing a risky game, attempting to seduce you whilst being this close to the other camp members. Hopefully they haven't heard, but even if they have, it's none of their business. "Yes, now," Charles orders. "Let me take care of you..."

“You are crushing me right now.” fluff with flaco and a gn reader for the prompt list thing? <3

ahhh i haven't written anything for my husband in a while!!!<3

Ugh, what the-

You're jolted awake from the sudden weight on top of you. With your arms flailing about, and your body wriggling like crazy, you manage to shimmy out of the trap, sitting upright in bed to question what (or who) has squished you.

Flaco's sound asleep, snoring softly, with his arms outstretched, taking up all the bed. He had rolled over, attempting to snuggle up to you, only to crush you beneath his body, incredibly desperate for any kind of physical contact from you.

"Flaco," you grumble, prodding him awake. He groans, licking his dry lips before speaking up in a dry, raspy voice, his eyes remaining shut.

"Mhm?" Flaco responds.

"Move across, you're taking up all the bed," you state, lightly pushing his side to encourage him to roll over.

"O-okay, okay," Flaco says with a nod, following it up with a soft "sorry."

He shuffles across the bed, returning to his side, and with his arm stretched out, you cuddle up to him again. Your eyes soon fall shut, your breaths are steady, and you're about to fall asleep, until Flaco rolls over, and in an attempt to spoon you, he squishes you again.

"Flaco!" you cry out, wriggling from his grasp. "You are crushing me right now!!"

"Eh?" Flaco questions as he moves away, propping himself up on his elbow. After rubbing his eyes with his other hand, he stares down at you. It's impossible to be mad at him, it was an accident, plus he looks absolutely adorable like this; messy bed hair, half-shut eyes, shirtless, and now reaching out to affectionately rub over your arm. "Sorry, amor."

"It's alright," you sigh. "But can you roll over? I want to be the big spoon, so you don't roll crush me again."

"Yeah, okay then," Flaco replies, his words falling quiet from being half asleep.

He lies back down and faces away from you, reaching behind his back to find your hand and wrap it around your waist. What a needy man; sure, he's a killer, a gunslinger, a man with both a name and price on his head, but behind closed doors, Flaco is the biggest puppy you've ever met, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

You snuggle up to him, smiling sweetly at the outrageous size difference. After placing a gentle kiss on Flaco's shoulder, his ponytail brushing against your cheek, you shut your eyes and drift back off to sleep.

Maybe Flaco will wake up later with you crushing him instead.

Pretty Thing

Summary: You’re feeling down about your looks, to the point where it’s brought you to tears, but Sean is here to coddle you as you cry.

Pairing: Sean MacGuire x gn!Reader

Word Count: 1113

Rating: SFW

Tags: Crying, Body confidence, Angst, Fluff.

Notes: I saw this post that m’lovely @anarchist-lolita​ wrote, and decided to do a lil drabble based on it :^)

Everybody has those days, the ones where we aren't too keen on what we see in the mirror; our clothes look off, our hair doesn't fall how we want it to, our skin looks full of blemishes. As foreign as the feeling may sometimes be, it's normal - to not enjoy the sight of ourselves. And sometimes that sight gets a bit too much, sometimes it weighs us down, often to the point of tears. You've found a secluded spot on the outskirts of camp, sitting amongst the trees, looking out at the landscape as you lean against a trunk. Today is one of those days, and you've trailed out of camp to let it out of your system, to have a cry in private, and to hopefully pull yourself back together. But no matter how much you cry, the feeling doesn't want to go away. You've been here for quite some time, sobbing quietly, questioning over and over as to why you're built like this. It's unfair, life's unfair; you're tired of seeing other people, always in awe at how flawless and perfect they look. But when you catch your own reflection, you can't help but look away, brows furrowing as you grumble in disgust.

You're so caught up in your feelings that you don't notice the bushes rustling nearby, or the sound of footsteps getting closer and closer, but you do jump out of your skin when somebody lets out a polite cough. "Shit," Sean yelps, looking down at you. "I didn't mean to startle you," he apologizes, and tilts his head in confusion as you look away. "You ain't alright, are you?" "It's nothing, Sean. I'll be fine," you brush him off. Sean shakes his head, and crouches down to meet your level. "Must be somethin' if it's got you in tears," he sighs. You know Sean's loud and proud, boisterous and full of personality, but he has a soft side, one that only seems to come out when it needs to. "You need a shoulder to cry on?" Sean offers. You pause for a brief moment, questioning if you want anybody's company. No offence to Sean, but sometimes you really need to be left alone; but today you're comfortable enough to spend your sorrows with a friend, so you give Sean a nod, your eyes still not meeting his as he sits down beside you. Sean doesn't look at you for long, but long enough to take in how drained you look. He leans back against the tree, fiddling with the hem of his shirt, unsure on what to say. You sniffle, bringing your knees up to your chest and burying your head in them, attempting to cover up the sound and sight of you crying. It doesn't take long for Sean to catch on to what's happening. "Hey, look at me," Sean says softly. You notice the way his face drops as he finally gets a proper look at you, his heart melting in his chest. "Oh, c'mere," Sean fusses, waving his hands in a beckoning motion. It's hard to resist the red haired man, especially when he's urging you to scoot over to him, so you do so, letting him wrap his arm around you as you nuzzle into the curve of his neck. Sean's cheek squishes against the top of your head, holding you tight in his arms. "Let it all out," Sean urges, and gives you a squeeze once the tears begin to flow again. Sean's humming softly as you cry into him, your hands gripping at the fabric of his shirt, his beard tickling your forehead. The more you cry, the more sympathy Sean feels for you; he eventually scoots you onto his lap, your chest pressed to his as you continue to sob against him. "What's got you feeling like this, eh?" Sean soon asks, his voice as soft as a dove. "...Just some things," you whimper, giving him a light shrug. "Things? ah, I know what it's like to have 'things' gettin' me down," Sean jokes, letting out a light chuckle as he pulls you tighter against him. "C'mon, love, you can tell Sean what's up, if you'd like," Sean offers. It takes a while for you to find your words, but you soon tell him what exactly has been weighing you down. It feels good, lifting some weight off your shoulders, telling Sean about how you're not too keen on what you see whenever you look in the mirror, and listing off the things you're eager to change. Sean's tutting every so often, even letting out slightly sarcastic sighs; you know he means well, this is Sean MacGuire, after all. Sean eventually pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes screwed shut as he shakes his head. "Ah, are you hearin' yourself?" Sean questions, cutting off your rant. "Huh?" you reply, still buried in Sean's lap. "Oh, love," Sean sighs, "is this really how you view yourself?" You nod, and Sean lets out another sigh. "Hey, look at me," Sean urges. He gently cups your chin, and moves you to sit up in his lap, your teary eyes meeting his warm ones. "This is gonna pass, you know that, right? you may be feelin' like this right now, but that's just because life's gettin' you down. Cut yourself some slack, we can't all be perfect in our own eyes, but we can be perfect to others, ain't that right?" Sean explains, chuckling at the end of his words. "I don't think anybody out there finds me perfect-" "-I do," Sean cuts you off. "You may not, but I sure do," Sean tells you with a smile so sweet that it melts your heart. "Oh, Sean," you sigh, wiping a few tears away. "Yep, that's my name," Sean jokes, flashing you a toothy grin. "Honest, I'm no liar. You're a right pretty thing, and you deserve to know it!" You bury your head back down into the curve of Sean's neck, hugging him tightly; Sean squeezes you back, and smiles as you reply a soft "thank you." "S'alright, love," Sean replies as he cuddles you, his cheek pressed against your forehead. Your body has finally run out of tears, and your eyes fall shut as you relax against the Irish man. Every so often, Sean gives you a soft nuzzle as he checks on you, followed by a soft kiss placed on your forehead. His fingers fiddle with the fabric of your clothes, eventually trailing up to run his fingertips softly along your skin, still cooing you whenever he overhears you sniffle. "I'm here for you, darlin'. Sean Macguire's always here for you."

For when requests are back open- first kiss w Micah?

HEY. sorry this request took so long!! I couldn’t think of the perfect situation, and then @oatcakebabie suggested this, so kudos to her for this game >:3

Reader is gender neutral!!!

This is such a childish game to be playing, so silly, not the game you'd expect a bunch of fully grown, bloodthirsty, fearless outlaws to be partaking in. But here you are, watching as Sean spins the bottle yet again, eager as always, and pulls a face of disgust as it lands on a gang member who isn't exactly partaking.

"I ain't kissing Cain!" Sean grunts, and reaches out to spin the bottle again.

"Ah, you gotta!" Mary-Beth jumps in, snatching the bottle away before Sean can reach it.

"What? why? he's a dog, and dogs can't play this game!"

"Where does it say that, huh?" Karen butts in, chuckling at the sight of Sean attempting to climb out of the hole he's dug.

"I ain't got a rule book on me-"

"-so you can't prove that dogs can't play?" Mary-Beth butts in, giggling along with Karen.

Sean doesn't reply, he huffs and puffs, turning to face Cain with a frown on his face. "C'mon then, you mutt," Sean sighs as he leans in. He scrunches his face up, shutting his eyes, and before he can even pucker his lips to give Cain a kiss, Cain has already begun licking his face, wagging his tail as he jumps into Sean's lap.

There's laughter around the campfire, yourself and the others watching through teary eyes as Sean manages to push Cain off him, urging for Cain to calm himself down. Within time, Cain does, but snuggles down on Sean's lap, making sure the camp knows that he's now got eyes for Sean.

"Lovely, just lovely!" Sean comments as he wipes his face with his sleeve, wiping off all the slobber he can. Sean doesn't bother sorting out the mess that he's now in, his clothes more creased than ever, and his hair is a scruffy mess, instead reaching out to take the bottle and push it in your direction.

"Go on then, your go," Sean urges, resting his hands atop of Cain. He gives him a small fuss, muttering under his breath about what a pain Cain can be.

"Oh, alright," you sigh. The game hasn't been too unfair on you so far; you were tasked to kiss Javier, who happily accepted, and Charles, who isn't playing but allowed you to place a kiss on his cheek. At least you haven't had to kiss any dogs, or Uncle, who keeps attempting to butt-in in an attempt of getting some affection. Poor man!

You place the bottle on its side in the centre of everybody, and give it a spin, watching nervously as it eventually lands on someone... There's a small gap between two of your fellow camp members, pointing at somebody who insisted that he definitely isn't playing.

For whatever reason, Sean had asked if Micah wanted to play, seeing as he's sitting nearby, to which Micah replied "I ain't a child." Sean had pushed and said that he's only rejecting because he knows nobody will kiss him, and Micah grumbled "if that's what helps you sleep at night," before moving a few seats away. He's sat in one of the tents, whittling a piece of wood into a spike (maybe to stab Sean with?) and probably eavesdropping into your group conversation, even though you're all talking rather loud.

There's a mixture of disapproving sighs as everybody looks over at Micah, who perks his head up, sensing all the eyes on him. "Oh, you might as well spin again, Micah isn't joining in," Karen comments.

"Wait, no, no!" Sean butts in, attempting to press all of Micah's buttons, "if Micah's going to sit here then he has to play, that's the rules!"

Micah raises a brow at his comment, "now, if I remember rightly, Charles also isn't playing, but he's still sat amongst y'all."

"Correction, Charles is... half-playing, he appreciates a good cheek kiss here 'n' there!" Sean corrects him, and Micah grumbles at his sassy reply.

"I ain't movin'."

"Then you're playin'."

Micah lets out a long, exaggerated sigh, shuffling up from his elbows to sit upright, one leg stretched out and the other folded. He sighs once more, and then decides to ask an important question. "Who's meant to be kissin' me?"

"Uh, me," you sheepishly reply. Micah isn't somebody that you interact with on the regular, passing comments here and there, but you've never had a proper conversation with your fellow camp member; of course, you've heard (and seen) all the red flags surrounding him, but that doesn't mean that you can't... find him attractive, right?

You'd never dare to tell anybody about your minor, secret admiration for the blonde man, nor that you've thought about him in a few ways before. You can feel your cheeks heating up at the way Micah looks at you, quietly replying "alright, if that's what you want," with a shrug.

"Y-you're alright with it?" you question, wanting to make sure you heard his reply correctly.

"That's what I just said, ain't it?" Micah rolls his eyes. Ugh, the sass, the audacity, but you only have yourself to fault for being into it - for being into him.

"Now, you ain't gotta if you don't wanna. This is Micah, we're talkin' about, eh?" Sean butts in with a laugh. You notice how everybody else nods along with his comment, and you can't help but feel sorry for Micah. Having all these people cower away from him must make him feel undesirable, and if you're to stoop to their level, then you'd be just as bad.

But God, you want this, so much so that you're shuffling over to Micah, settling beside him. His eyes are wide, but he quickly relaxes them, flashing you a cheeky grin in an attempt to cover up how surprised he is that you're actually going through with this.

Micah's enough of a gentleman to remove his hat, resting it on his lap, and then tilts his head and waits patiently, allowing you to take the lead. You nervously lick your lips before going for it, pressing your lips to his, your eyes scrunched shut. You're certain that you look uncomfortable, despite not meaning to be, it's the nerves!

Within seconds, you relax, untensing and moving your lips. To your surprise, Micah matches you, kissing you softly, his slightly chapped lips gliding over yours, his facial hair tickling your upper lip and cheeks. There's a burn in your stomach, and you're thankful that you're sat down, as your knees feel so weak that they definitely would have bucked beneath you.

This is just meant to be a kiss, a peck on the lips, maybe a few seconds longer. But Micah's now deepening the kiss, moving a hand up to cup your jawline as he nibbles on your bottom lip.Oh lord. You bite him back, earning a deep and drawn out chuckle, his lips pressed right against yours as he laughs. "Calm down," Micah mutters, barely loud enough for you to hear, "this is just meant to be a kiss," he says, and pecks you on the lips before moving away.

Micah returns to sitting back on his elbows as he places his hat back on, cockily brushing you off as if nothing happened, but you can tell from his rosy cheeks and blown pupils that he enjoyed that as much as you did. You let out a deep sigh as you shuffle back over to the others, not saying anything, unable to look at the variety of wide eyes and open mouths gawking at you.

"Right, that was weird," Sean finally speaks up, attempting to sweep some tension out of the air.

"I think it's time we all went to bed," Mary-Beth suggests, and everybody agrees, rushing to their feet and dispersing, leaving you starstruck at the campfire with Micah barely a few feet behind you.

There's silence for a few minutes, and you zone out, staring at the campfire until you hear a rustling behind you, followed by a hand gently pressed on your back, and a set of damp lips whispering huskily into your ear.

"You come and find me if you ever wanna play that game again, just me and you though, alright?" Micah suggests, chuckling as you eagerly nod in agreement.

He stands, wandering off from the campfire, heading out to the outskirts of camp - one of his favourite places to enjoy his own company in.

The offer is there, and Micah definitely won't mind if you decide to take it up right now.

for the character + word how about flaco hug!! i really want that man to bear hug me

this is sad cause i’ve been feeling meh recently :^( gender-neutral reader<3

------

"Hey, look at me," Flaco softly commands after handing over your payment. The brim of your hat is lower than usual today, covering your eyes, only for the brief moments that you've interacted with the man. It's not something that you want to do, but you know by now that Flaco has a heart of gold, and the last thing he ever wants to do is hurt or upset you. So, you tilt your hat back to where it usually sits, and make direct eye contact with him. The puffiness to your eyes is obvious, and from the permanent pout that you've worn all day, Flaco knows this isn't simply from rubbing your eyes. No, you've shed a few tears over the last couple of days. Well, more than a few; enough to the point where your expression is taking a while to return to normal. Flaco lets out a soft sigh as he gently places his fingertips beneath your chin, keeping your head up for him to examine the damage. "You wanna talk about it?" he offers. "Nah," you decline, forcing yourself to look away from the guilt of rejection. Sometimes you can't quite find the right words to express how you feel, and this is one of those times. "Okay," Flaco accepts. "How about you come here instead?" Flaco offers as he moves his hand from your chin, stretching his arms out instead. The sight alone makes your heart melt; a man who easily reaches 6'4, with a permanent scowl, and a gruff voice that alone scares the wolves away, is offering you a hug in an attempt to make you feel better. You don't bother nodding or verbally replying, instead, you press yourself against his chest, your fingertips barely touching as you wrap your arms around him. Flaco softly laughs as he engulfs you, wrapping you up in his warm, furry coat, his cheek resting on top of your head. He holds you for however long you need, not letting go first, allowing you to take all the love, comfort, and warmth that you need from him. And when you do finally break apart, Flaco asks you to stay. "You need a friend right now, I can see that clear as day," Flaco states, and smiles like a puppy when you accept.

Bill and flowers 🥺🌸

gender neutral reader :^)

--- Bill's a stuttering mess, as always, struggling to keep eye contact as he attempts to talk to you. "I got you something," he manages to blurt out, his cheeks turning salmon red. You knew he had something for you the second he began approaching, his hands behind his back, and a nervous expression across his face. "Oh?" you curiously sigh. "What is it?" "I... uh.... here-" Bill exclaims, and almost shoves the bouquet of flowers into your arms. You take the bouquet, fawning over the array of colours, shapes, sizes, and so on. There's a mishmash of plants, wrapped together in a ribbon, and to your surprise, the bouquet is neatly presented - not that you have any doubts in Bill. You let out a sigh. "Thank you, Bill." Bill pauses before searching for reassurance. "You like them?" he nervously asks. "Of course, I do," you smile, and take a small step forward to plant a kiss on his cheek. Bill's face continues turning redder as every second passes, and he stutters an excuse before scurrying away, leaving you to take the bouquet over to your tent and place them in a vase. Should you tell him that some of them are weeds?

hello bb may I please request soft Micah where reader and him have been getting along yk (playful insulting, playfighting and that cute shit) and end up just fuckin kissing or something then have a cute happy ending where they end up together? Reader sorta on the same wavelength as him being all cocky and out there because I am a whore for the cutesy shit

work ur magic boo😩😩😩💦💦

omg yessss cocky readers are my fave to write, especially for our ratman!!! also, i’ve never really fired a gun so idk if the detail in this is correct, but hey-hoe

reader is gender neutral, but it’s mentioned that they’re shorter than Micah.

"I ain't the rifle type," Micah tells you yet again, rolling his eyes as a light snarl crosses his lips. "Just try it," you scoff. He's stubborn, but so are you, and you're not willing to quit until you see just how 'bad' he is with a rifle. Micah's blabbered on before about how revolvers are his style, even calling them 'superior' to rifles and other guns alike; Micah also briefly mentioned that he's crap at shooting them, which can only explain the resentment he has towards them, and you're curious to see just how crap he is with a rifle in his hands. "I have, and I don't like it," he grumbles, attempting to turn away from the conversation. "Well, just show me what you've got-" "-No," he cuts you off. You roll your eyes at his fast rejection, only an idea springs to mind, one where you can play him at his own game. "I thought you were ruthless, Micah. A man whose skill knows no bounds, especially when it comes to shootin'," you comment, batting your lashes, a soft pout on your lips. "I am," he bluntly states.

"Then surely you ain't gonna let a rifle beat you, huh?" Micah sighs, clicking his tongue as he shakes his head. "I know what you're doing," he comments, no doubt because he uses the same technique on others. "Fine, I'll show you exactly why I ain't the rifle type, just so you can stop pesterin' me about it, alright?" "Alright," you grin, no bothering to hide how excited you are. He's made himself out to be poorer than poor, a clown with an unfamiliar weapon in his hands, and no doubt, you'll take pleasure in watching him fail. Micah takes your rifle, snatching it away with another huff. There's still bottles standing on the rocks, seeing as you were testing your own skills not too long ago, with Micah relaxing nearby, lounging about in the spring heat. He jumps straight into it, holding the rifle into position and taking his first shot. You have to bite back a laugh when the rifle almost slips from his hands, narrowly missing his face. He grumbles, but doesn't seem surprise that he missed by a mile. Another shot is taken, then another, and Micah continues going until the rounds are empty. "See, told you," he comments, shoving the rifle back in your arms, only you don't take it from him. "C'mon, let me teach you-" "-No," Micah cuts your offer short, shaking his head as he speaks. He manhandles you, taking one of your hands in his, forcing your palm open, and places the rifle in your open palm, pushing you to take your gun back. "I don't need to be taught. Like I said, rifles ain't my style. But hey, I gave it a try, so are you happy now?" "Nope," you pout. "Just let me see-" "-No." "Micah. I wanna try-" "-No." "You're being a baby," you state, and Micah nods in agreement. "How are you meant to be a 'survivor' if you won't learn these new skills, hm? that I am kindly offering to teach you?" "It's a mindset, sweetheart." Are you wasting your time on this man? oh, definitely. But you're pushy, eager, for whatever reason. Micah is guaranteed to be a tough pupil, but you're a tougher teacher, and you want to teach him something, anything, just so you can enjoy some unknown pleasure that you're lusting after. "How's about if you let me teach you a few things, and you manage to hit a bottle, then I'll buy you a drink in the saloon later?" you offer, knowing that Micah will only take up your offer in exchange for treats, like the dog he is, despite his disliking for them. "I didn't know we were goin' the saloon after this," Micah smugly replies with a chuckle, his laughter picking up when you playfully swat his arm. "Alright then, pushy. I'll allow you to bless me with those talents of yours," Micah replies, and takes the rifle from your grip once more. He lines himself up after reloading, propping the rifle against his shoulder, his finger hovering over the trigger, and turns to face you, awaiting his first lesson. "Well, first of all, rest your cheek on the stock," you instruct. Micah softly laughs at your bossy tone before doing as instructed, pressing his cheek to the stock, and peering down the sight. "And hold it more-" you begin, your words trailing off as you take a step closer to physically move Micah into place. Yet again, he chuckles, but allows you to reposition his grip, moulding him like putty around your rifle. "Anythin' else you ain't happy about?" Micah questions. "Mhmmm... no," you decide. "Take the shot," you instruct, taking a wide step back. Your eyes remain on Micah's form as he fires, and to neither of your surprise, he misses again. "Looks like you ain't much of a teacher-" Micah begins to bicker, but shuts his mouth when you begin moulding him into shape once more. He's grinning, his focus on you rather than the gun; he attempts to cover up his smile when you gesture for him to shut his mouth, scowling at the larger man, and he has to physically bite back a laugh at your pouty face. "You ain't followin' through for long enough," you instruct. "Wait a little longer once you fire, hold her steady, and take your time linin' the sight up," you explain, taking another step back and watching Micah again. He somewhat attempts to follow your advice, half-arsed, which is no surprise to you. Micah misses the shot, and you begin to wonder if he's doing it intentionally. "You ain't followin' through!" you grumble, playfully slapping his arm. "You want me to baby you? cause I'll hold you steady until you hit a bottle." Micah laughs once more, but sound stops escaping his lips when you position yourself around him; you wrap your arm around his, your hand pressed over his much larger ones, your trigger finger directly on top of his. You're on your tip-toes, body pressed to his to give yourself leverage as you attempt to help Micah shoot one single goddamn bottle. Your other hand pushes Micahs head down against the gun, rougher than last time, before settling on his shoulder. "Take the fucking shot, Micah," you angrily order, grumbling almost directly into his ear. "You seem to be gettin' a bit worked up there-" "Just take the shot already, hit a bottle, else I'll cry," you threaten, with a frustrated yet playful tone to your voice. This time, Micah doesn't laugh, and finally puts his focus into firing. Your finger moves with his as he pulls the trigger; his arms don't move as the gun fires, his stance remains firm and strong, and finally, after god knows how long, Micah hits a bottle. The blonde man almost jumps out of his skin when you begin cheering, screaming "finally!" and "I knew I'd be able to teach you something!" "You happy now?" Micah asks with a laugh, letting the rifle loosen in his grip as he hangs it down by his side. "Yes!!" you cheer, and playfully hug him. Micah giggles, rubbing his hand over your back, his cheek pressing atop of your head as you continue babbling out words of praise, your face pressed to his chest. You eventually move away, peering up at Micah, ready to begin teasing and berating him, but words fail you completely once your eyes meet his cold, blue ones. He's peering down at you, a soft grin across his lips, a genuine one that only you have the pleasure of seeing, considering that Micah isn't one for genuine smiles. He goes to open his mouth, to let out a witty and flirtatious comment, but words fail him too, and both of you are left gawking at each other, still wrapped in his arms, his chest pressed to yours. You both see it coming, you both know that the bubble was eventually going to burst, only you thought it might have happened in a cliché setting; maybe Micah would have ridden you home in the rain, helping you off his horse and finally pressing his lips to yours, or maybe he'd storm over after a shared gunfight, pumped with adrenaline and desperate to share his rush with you. However, you find yourself on tip-toes again, your arms darting up to wrap around his neck, his lips finally on yours. No doubt, he's going to begin mocking and teasing you the second his lips leave yours, so you drag out the kiss, and he happily follows. A soft thud can be heard as Micah let the rifle in his grip fall to the floor, allowing him to wrap both his arms around your waist. He pulls you in even closer, his tongue sliding against yours at the same time, facial hair prickling your upper lip. He's kisses exactly how you've imagined, and you're not ashamed to admit that those thoughts have crossed your mind far too many times. The kiss breaks, but his grip on you doesn't loosen. Instead, Micah continues peering down at you, a smug smile across his lips, but his eyes are warm, welcoming, and perfectly meeting yours. "I'll ask again, are you happy now?" Micah questions, his tone soft, for once. "I am," you confess. "You were missin' those shots on purpose, weren't you?" Micah looks away, biting back a laugh. He grins and shakes his head, before meeting your gaze again, not bothering to hide his smile. "...maybe."

I just want to be standing by the campfire and have Charles come up behind me, giving me a lil grope while he whispers something dirty in my ear 🥴

You're groggier than usual this morning; eyes barely open, legs struggling to hold your body up, mouth dry despite the drink you have in your hand. How your sweetheart, Charles, gets up earlier than you will forever remain a mystery. He's done his usual this morning, getting up an hour or so before you, mostly so he can have an undisturbed dip in the lake. He then begins doing his chores, having a break from them when he overhears you groan awake, and enters your tent with a kiss and a coffee. Charles then leaves you to it, usually finding you around mid day once he's finished his chores. But you know who's approaching from the sound of his light footsteps. You're expecting Charles to come and say "look whose finally up," followed by a kiss to your cheek, and you're pleasantly surprised when you feel his large hands grip onto your waist, slipping around you and hugging you from behind. "You're up," Charles comments as he kisses your temple, resting his head on your shoulder afterwards. "Mhmm," you nod, and almost yelp when Charles pulls you firmly against his chest. Oh, it's hard not to miss the feeling of his solid length pressed against your ass. His hands slide off your waist, firmly gripping your ass, and he gives your hips a small roll, just once, but it's enough to spike your arousal whilst he teases the both of you. You're about to ask what's got him so worked up this morning, but he's beat you to it, making a comment directly into your ear, barely above a whisper, his tone low and husk. "That outfit you brought yesterday, you should put it on later. I'll make sure you know just how good you look in it." And just like that, Charles is gone, leaving you in a flustered state. Hey, at least you're awake now... but did anybody see that?

Micah, tattoo, male reader

"Micah... what is that?" you ask. Micah jolts upright, dropping the body he was about to loot, straightening his back and peering over his shoulder at you. "What's what?" he asks through narrow eyes. "That mark on your back," you explain, taking a step forward and reaching out to pick at Micah's shirt. He swats your hand away, telling you to "leave it." "What is it? Are you hurt?" "I ain't hurt, just leave it alone, alright?" Micah snaps. He glares at you for a moment before moving away, squatting down to loot bodies rather than bending over, preventing his shirt from lifting again. What the hell is on his lower back? It wasn't very bold, but still bold enough to attract your attention. It was dark, and you thought it was dried blood, despite his shirt being clean for once. You occupy your time by looting the few others, waiting for the perfect time to strike. And when that time hits, you lunge forward, pulling the back of Micah's shirt up, revealing the mysterious mark on his lower back. It's a tattoo, a somewhat old one as the ink is well faded. You only get a few moments to glance at the artwork before Micah shoves you away, pushing you back into the dirt, but you manage to make out a snake wrapped around a branch, an olive branch possibly? What a fitting tattoo for such a man. "I told you to leave it, boy!" Micah snaps, his face turning flushed red. "A tramp stamp, Micah? I didn't know you were that type," you say with a laugh, slowly picking yourself up from the dirt. Micah rushes to climb up onto Baylock, making his poor mount whine as Micah tugs on his reigns. "Go to Hell," Micah spits before kicking his spurs and storming off. "I'll see you down there!" you shout back, hopefully loud enough for him to hear.

bill x f!reader + thunderstorm⛈

some angst for u, and this ended up being gender-neutral reader:0)

Note: This drabble is based on PTSD.

“Shit... S-shit,” Bill grumbles, muttering under his breath, the sounds of heavy thunder echoing through his mind.

He’s tossing and turning, still half asleep. However, his movement is enough to wake you, rolling over to face your panicking partner. Bill’s breaking a sweat, his hands flexing, attempting to grip onto the covers as a form of support. He grumbles again, followed by taking a few short breaths, his body shaking.

“Bill, sweetheart,” you softly coo as you sit upright, tapping his arm in an attempt to wake him. You call out his name once more, and Bill snaps out of his nightmare, the covers pooling around his hips as he jolts upright.

“Bill?” you sigh, placing your hand on his bare arm, your thumb stroking over his trembling body. “It’s just a storm, Bill, it’s alright,” you sympathize.

Bill slowly looks over at you, panting heavily, and gives you a small nod. He knows it’s just a storm, and this isn’t the first time he’s felt like a fool for getting so worked up over the weather.

But it doesn’t feel like just a storm, that’s not the image that runs through Bills mind whenever he hears those loud, sharp, sudden sounds. Unfortunately, a string of memories, that Bill would like to forget, come flooding back into his mind; along with the screams, the bright flashes of light, the thick smoke, total nightmare fuel.

“Come here,” you sigh. Bill nods again and allows you to lie him back down. He curls up into his usual position, his head on your chest, arms wrapped around your body, hands kneading eagerly at you, desperate for comfort. You run your fingers through his thick hair, fiddling with the ends that slightly curl outward. A tight cuddle and soft humming always soothes Bill, and that’s exactly what you’re doing now, comforting him as much as you can, and it's slowly working as Bills body relaxes against yours.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you. I’m here.”

Would actually die for more sub! Bill and male reader that bear just has to be topped

hehehe here’s a lil drabble for you >:)

"N-now?" Bill questions. "Not yet," you reply. "Oh, come on," Bill grumbles. "I said not yet, big guy."

You know Bill is pouting, despite not being able to see his face. To be fair, you're not surprised his patience is running thin, especially since you've already came and refused Bill's orgasm; the poor man is leaking, his cheeks and body flushed red, and a trail of pre-cum running from the tip of his cock to the bedsheets. He groans again as you take a fistful of his hair and yank his head up, curving his back, pulling his body against yours as you continue to slam into him. Bill sighs heavily as you pick up the pace, his mouth remaining parted, moaning and groaning as the sound of skin against skin echoes around the hotel room. How Bill hasn't accidentally came is beyond you, but maybe it's because you've been training him for so long? He's accidentally came during previous sessions, though you're almost certain some times were intentional, mostly because Bill enjoys the way you pull him over his lap and teach him a lesson as your hand is introduced to his rear. He even came once during one of your spanking sessions, though the poor man was so flustered afterward. You let go of Bills hair, only for your hand to trail south and settle between his shoulder blades, pushing at them so Bill's upper half falls limp against the bed, his ass in the air. He's quite the sight, for your eyes only, apart from that one time when poor Arthur walked in after he heard the sound of Bill whimpering, worried the poor man was in pain; that's why you two don't hook up in camp any more, well, you don't have loud or risky sex in camp any more, just the odd spoon-fucking whenever Bill wakes you up by grinding his ass against your crotch. "C-c'mon," Bill sighs again, and part of you is starting to feel bad for him. "Why?" you playfully reply, and Bill grumbles at your response. "I've been real good, you know. I ain't came once, followed all your orders, been a good boy," Bill attempts to barter with you. "You can cum when I cum." "Fine," Bill sighs, and is probably rolling his eyes at your response. It's a good thing you have another orgasm sitting on the fence, and you continue to thrust into Bill, enjoying his whimpers and pants, along with the obvious debauched state he's in. He's practically sobbing with relief when you tell him you're about to cum, and reaches between his legs to begin jerking himself. Your grip on Bill's waist is tight as you slam your cock into him and hold it there, spilling your load inside him, joining the other load you filled him with earlier. Bill bites the bedsheets as he cums, knowing he'll be a mewling mess if he doesn't; the only thing he makes a mess of is the bedding, milking his load from his cock, soaking the bedding as his body shudders from his release. Bill narrowly avoids it as you slip out of him, rolling onto his back and falling limp on the bed. He's exhausted, as always, probably more drained than you despite not doing any of the hard work; but Bill stretches an arm out as an offering, despite both of you being sweaty, and sighs happily when you curl up against his chest. "You wanna have a bath?" you offer. "You sayin' I smell?" Bill questions. "Yep." "... sure, let's just catch our breaths first."

Micah Bell + Hitachi Wand = ?

A GOOD TIME.

---

"Oh, look at you squirmin'!" Micah chuckles, pressing the vibrator more firmly against your clit. You attempt to call out his name, to tell him to calm down, but your mind is hazy, unable to think straight, engulfed in the pleasure between your legs. You can barely open your eyes, and on the odd occasion that you manage to, all you see is Micah grinning from ear to ear, watching your body shake uncontrollably. Once again, Micah turns up the setting, giggling away as you moan louder and louder, a whimpering mess at his grasp. Of course, Micah is going to enjoy this; your wrists are tied together, legs spread apart, bound and in his control. You're wriggling against your lover, curled up in his lap, your back pressed to his chest. Micah is peering over you, one arm reaching out to press the vibrator to your clit, the other one wrapped around your neck, choking you perfectly.

Every so often, Micah dips his head down to suck another hickey onto your neck, joining the array of others that he's planted there throughout the night. "C'mon, girl," Micah whispers into your ear, his voice low and husk. "Quit holdin' back, let it all out for me, please?" he asks, and although you can't see his face, you know he's batting his lashes. You open your mouth, ready to blurt out whatever sentence your mind strings together, but all that escapes is a choked moan as Micah ruts the vibrator even harder against your clit. His eyes are on you, watching, waiting, muttering words of encouragement under his breath. Being in control feeds Micah's ego, especially in situations like this; it's the reassurance he needs, knowing that he can make you cum so easily, and he doesn't mind the 'extra help.' "I-I'm gonna-" you choke out. "-I know you are, doll," Micah smugly replies. He's cheering you on as you let loose, mewling in his lap, screaming out as Micah continues pressing the vibrator against your now overly-sensitive clit. "M-Micah, too much..." you stutter. He's kind enough to give you a break, turning the vibrator off and casting it aside. Micah loosens his grip on your neck, his other hand sliding over your soaked cunt. "Perfect," he compliments. "Nice 'n' wet. You're ready for me now, ain't you, honey pie?"