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#the wrecking crew
65eatonplace · 2 months
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Sharon Tate and Nancy Kwan, trained & choreographed by martial arts legend Bruce Lee in "The Wrecking Crew" Columbia Pictures 1969
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eyecandyeoz · 1 year
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I think we need more Wrecker love, so can you maybe write something for him that involves a size kink, a praise kink, and maybe even a small breeding kink? 🥺👉🏼👈🏼 The context can be whatever you chose!
I have been seeing a growing need for some Wrecker love, so of COURSE I will do this for you, nonny!! Not to mention, I've written rather in-depth standalone fics for EVERYONE ELSE in TBB but I have yet to do one for Wrecker like this! It's about damn time!
Love You Want
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Pairing: Wrecker x F!Reader
Warnings: (81+) smut, PinV, body positivity, size/breeding/praise kinks, oral f/m/ receiving, deepthroat, creampie
Summary: This is the first time you've been intimate with someone nearly twice your size. You and Wrecker agreed to take things slow at first, and while you've been behaving rather well lately, the alluring lust that hangs above both of your heads effectively convinces you to jump the gun in a race towards a Happy Ending.
Read on ao3 & wattpad - about 2.5k words
Masterlist   -   My kofi ✨
"I've been wanting to do this with you... for a while now." Wrecker trembles as he hovers so gingerly above, cloaking you in his immense shadow. The only weight you feel from him are the deepened impressions he leaves in the bed. The undivided attention he gives you brings on more fluttering nerves than any touch could hold a candle to. Not that you weren't blatantly famished for him to finally have his way with you, but this gradual climb towards joined ecstasy makes things all the more memorable.
"Tell me, Wreck." You raise a hand and caress the trails of scar tissue on the side of his face. He intakes a sharp breath at the nip of your chilled fingertips, releasing it with a rise and fall of his broad shoulders. "What do you want to do to me?"
"So- many- things." With each staccato delivery, he inches closer. Wrecker's breath comes in waves, hot and heavy. He's drinking every aspect of you in, drool practically dripping down his jaw. He begins with chaste presses of his lips to your bare knees, consciously holding himself back from attacking you here and now. He retains the focus held on your eyes from the beginning, effortlessly going between idolizing your body and your inner beauty as a person. You let him explore, moving from one patch of flesh to the next, but not without making sure every area he passes receives the same shine in the spotlight.
For having such large hands, he operates so delicately with them. The scarce articles of clothing you have left are peeled away in a phantom-like fashion. Wrecker takes the straps to your underclothes between his index fingers and thumbs, pinching the fabric and slipping the pieces off of you in an achingly slow manner. The incremental exposure of your body for him not only drives up your inner temperature, but it also drags out the pent-up arousal Wrecker has reserved for this momentous occasion. He wouldn't dream of rushing into this and painfully making the heinous mistake of overlooking the nuances of your form. Wrecker aims to go through all the effort to make this astronomically pleasant.
Unwrapped like a gift before him, Wrecker gazes at you with a frenzied glint in his eye. He gasps when you lunge forward, reaching for the collar of his under suit. Wrecker doesn't expect you to yank on it so assertively in this instance, abruptly pulling him into your space. That glint turns from frenzied to zealous in a snap when he understands your ploy, shimmying out of his clothes according to your silent command. "I can't believe I have you all to myself."
"What's your first order of business, now that you've got me right where you want me?" You tease, angling your knees outward to reveal what you're hiding between your thighs.
"I think you know exactly what that is." Wrecker lowers himself to his elbows, hooking his large, muscular arms in the backs of your knees to mightily haul you closer to him. Your head is tugged off its pillow when he does this, and you abashedly stifle a giggle with both hands clamped over your mouth. Wrecker drags his tongue across his lips, moistening them to inflict you with drafty chills as he leaves sloppy kisses in his wake.
You can't control the ticklish wriggling Wrecker is putting you through, and he hasn't even reached your divine center yet. "Are you sure you're up for all this? I'm not exactly... calm in bed, I suppose."
"Like that'll stop me!" He exclaims with a triumphant vaunt. "I'm hoping I haven't seen nothin' yet!"
All apprehension you had dampening your mood has disappeared at Wrecker's proactive attitude. If he's more than comfortable being so near to you in this precarious proximity, you've every right to be as well. Wrecker dives in without a second to lose, spreading you open with his tongue before you can even formulate thoughts to comprehend these throes of passion. His expansive hands grip and grope the plushest parts of you but he never ceases his sampling. When you can manage some semblance of control over your thrashing, you attempt to peer at his heterochromatic eyes from where they preside within the valley of your legs.
Wrecker can't help himself, drinking your nectar from its source as if it would eternally quench all thirst for the remainder of his days. He yearns for a never-ending flow of your mewling squeals, suckling on the forbidden bud to achieve just that. At the same instant, you feel a probing digit beckon a greeting at your lavishly lubricated entrance. You yelp when you recognize this sensation, but Wrecker just lays his only other free hand across the width of your abdomen, pushing you into the bed to further stabilize you. Your own mitts search the space for something to hold onto; the pillow nearby, the sheets beneath you, but nothing is more grounding than anchoring yourself to the hand on your stomach. Just one of his fingers manages to dwarf your entire palm by comparison. His grip is strong enough to ensure you're not able to move even the most trivial inch until he hears that gratifying scream of your release.
"Wreck! Wrecker please!" You manage to say between bated breaths. "No more! I can't take it!"
"Aww... But I was just getting started!"
"Don't worry. There will be plenty of time for that." You regain composure just enough to limply reach for his face and lift it to yours in a joined and scandalous exchange of tongues. The mass of his warm, erect length fumbling along your thighs is impossible to ignore. You reach for it, fingers coiling around the throbbing muscles and pulsating veins. Are you having second thoughts? Is this uncharted territory more than you bargained for? "But first."
Wrecker is taken by the way you control his every whim, easing him to trade places with you and allow you to take the helm in an area where he believes he would most likely bear all the initiating responsibilities. "Y-yes ma'am!" Thankfully blinded by the thrill of your maneuvers, he doesn't see that this is a covert ruse so that you can familiarize yourself with him first before progressing any steps further. "You're so pretty. Everything about you."
"You're only saying that because I'm about to suck you off." You joke, slapping his tip on your tongue a few times to get a proper rise out of him.
"No..." Wrecker's cheeks bloom to a darker shade. "I mean it every minute of every day!"
"Oh yeah? What about me, exactly?" You inquire, poking your tongue out with the intent to trace a line from bottom to top.
"Uhh... Well for starters-" Wrecker begins, but he stops short when you start licking, already failing to concentrate.
"Oh, my bad. You were saying?" You mutter with a smirk before latching onto the bulbous and glistening tip just begging to be tasted.
Wrecker lets out a rumbling groan, loud and thunderous, and it overrides his ability to form cognizant speech. Nevertheless, he powers right on through and names off the things he adores most. "I-I love how soft your skin is compared to mine. How your eyes look j-just before you kiss me. And- hnnngh..."
"I didn't catch that last part. You're going to have to speak up, Wreck." You release Wrecker's length with an audible and saucy pop before going back down with more fervent purpose, using both hands to slather more of your saliva on his shaft. After a while of moving like this, you're able to relax your throat muscles in order to receive him more completely, pushing him quite literally to your anatomical limits.
"You're always up for whatever crazy antics I want to do. Oh! You always give me your leftover food you can't finish!" Speaking of finishing, Wrecker most likely won't last much longer if you keep this up, but you're only just starting to get used to holding an encumbering rod like this in your hands. With every little touch and graze, it flexes as if it has a mind of its own. You carefully cycle your breathing through your nose to preserve your airway, careful not to ungracefully gag just as you're coming off him.
"Kriff... and you do that to me." Wrecker clears your face of any stray hairs to gain a better look at your precious charm. These accolades he bestows upon you fuel your shameless need to be praised. He fulfills that need without question in the most cordial of ways. "Come over here so I can make you feel just as good as you have me feeling right now."
Crawling on all fours, Wrecker keeps a wide smile plastered on his face as you take your time in mounting him, straddling his hips with your own fairly widely set. Wrecker is sizeable in every aspect of the word. It's almost comical how small you feel sitting atop him like this.
You keep stroking him, nerves taking over once again as you try to focus on how good it will feel instead of how much displacement will be taking place soon. However, Wrecker can sense something is off with how you've suddenly deflated. "Are you scared?"
"What? No! What makes you think that?"
"The way you sort of hit pause just then. We don't have to keep going if you don't want to. We promised to take it slow at first, after all." He's more in tune with you that you thought.
"No, Wrecker. This is all everything I want and more! I don't have the patience to wait." You can say all you want; it's only going to make a difference if you actually believe it.
"I won't hurt you. I promise." Wrecker promises, and you feel guilty for even planting that seed in his worrisome head.
"I know you won't. I'm not worried about that."
"Then what is it?"
"I just... I want this to be good for you too."
Wrecker bypasses the excess of your attention being paid to everywhere but his face and guides you towards having this one-on-one endearing moment with you. "You're already WAY more than good. You're amazing! Incredible! I'm going have to ask Tech if there are more words like that to describe how great you are."
You let yourself be held, cherished and valued by him. After all, nothing turns you on more than his stoic affirmations being ringing like music in your ears. In this move to grant you assurance, he's aided in placing you in the perfect position for you to grind yourselves together. The wetness of you meets the wetness of him as you swivel your hips to really blend the essence of both before leaning to one side and sliding him in.
Wrecker lets you go at your own pace, doing nothing but adding enhancements to your bliss with kisses here and there, spry pinches of your nipples and thoughtful pets on portions of your body you would rather hide, like the rolls of your midsection or the spillage of your thighs over his. At this starting breach, your shared expectations are blown out of the water on what this could entail. Wrecker stretches you so favorably, disappearing into you little by little. Despite him being so colossal, you surprisingly welcome him into you with ease. The vital increments of care he's shown certainly have paid off in preparing you for the rigor that's to come.
"Not too much for you, am I?" Wrecker resists the urge to buck up into you, waiting until you've managed to fully and comfortably seat yourself.
"This is better than I could've imagined, Wreck..." As you descend, Wrecker whispers soft flatteries and compliments on your figure and his sentiments snowball into rushing waves of adoration rolling in fast to sweep you away. The once timid rolls of your hips advance into determined slams of your figure into his as you ride him. You're encompassed by the enlarged trunks of Wrecker's arms, simultaneously wrapped in his protective sanctum while being given the gift of mutual elation. It's ethereal and true, finding no end to his enjoyment and where yours begins.
"Can I keep kissing you? I just... You taste so-" Wrecker's adorably innocent question might seem unnecessary at this point, but one can never be too sure and you love that he's always checking in. Tickled by his constant survey, you let the interruption of attacking him with your mouth act as a sufficient answer. You feel so petite in the best of ways when you're with him whereas societal standards could just as easily disagree. Anything goes when it comes to him, and he couldn't fake anything if he tried.
With lips locked, Wrecker finds a reliable cadence to roughly thrust to his heart's content and you grasp his robust frame for dear life, giving into his heavenly dance. The depth Wrecker reaches drives you to uncork more bottled-up cries, decanting them directly into his mouth. Though, he thirsts for something else entirely.
"Can I? Can I please?" He pulls away just enough to speak, but each of these powerful pushes let you in on the main event that Wrecker is arduously straining to hold off until you show evident approval.
"I was beginning to think you'd never ask." With your admission, you sink as far as you can at the same time he's deliciously impaling you.
"Say it..." Wrecker mumbles into your neck between smooches and nibbles.
"Wrecker." You sing to him through melodious moans.
Again..." He gasps, getting closer, gripping you tighter.
"Wreck me, Wrecker." That pivotal declaration sends him sky high. Your weightlessness is amplified, not having to exert yourself in any way what with Wrecker handling everything. You make eye contact just as his disposition falters into that of complete short-circuiting. The inward distension of an excess of his release gushes into you, sensual streams leaking their way onto the bed to make a salacious mess of yourselves.
He keeps pumping until there's nothing left to give. Winded and rattled, Wrecker loosens his hold on you and you're able to prop yourself up on his sturdy chest. "I swear, that color in your cheeks is making me want to fill you up all over again if that means you're gonna look like that every time."
"You wana go again?" You devotedly suggest, catching a bead of sweat with a couple fingers as it falls down the contours of his face.
"I'm up for as many rounds as you want, beautiful." Wrecker cares not about the stains you both are sure to leave, for sheets and bedding can always be cleaned, but moments like this only arrive once in a blue moon and he'll be damned if he's going to let a fraction of it go to waste.
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dimepicture · 7 months
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deanmartingifs · 2 months
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Dean Martin and Elke Sommer in The Wrecking Crew, 1968
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helena-bottom-farter · 9 months
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simply-sharon-tate · 1 year
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Sharon Tate, 1968
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ivebeentotheforest · 7 months
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The Wrecking Crew (1968) Posters
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semosayba · 5 months
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Foreman Spike 23’
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m0tel6mxzzy · 7 months
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fornpt1 · 25 days
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lisamarie-vee · 2 months
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65eatonplace · 1 year
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Sharon Tate photographed by Hatami on 8mm film during a photoshoot for "The Wrecking Crew" 1968  
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musickickztoo · 5 days
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Carol Kaye  *March 24, 1935
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rolloroberson · 1 year
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Sharon Tate and Bruce Lee rehearsing fight scenes for “The Wrecking Crew”.
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ludmilachaibemachado · 8 months
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Dean Martin and Sharon Tate filming 'The Wrecking Crew' in 1968🌻
Via Instagram🌻
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dimepicture · 7 months
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