#Deadly Is the Female | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sockmeat · 1 year

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𝐅𝐄𝐌 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 -- 𝑰𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒆... (𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒍𝒚 𝑺𝒊𝒏𝒔)

(𝐰𝐜): 3,058

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: When you acquire a new shade of lipstick, you’re eager to try it on and see how it looks. When you see your s/o minding their business, you’re curious: what will it look like on them?

(𝐀/𝐍): GET THIS OUT OF MY DRAFTS i am sick of looking at it

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): Meliodas’ scenario is suggestive at the end but if you blink you’ll miss it, Ban’s scenario is suggestive all the way through I’m sorry I wanna fuck him so bad, I tried to get this out on Valentine’s day but I’m pathetic and lazy so let’s pretend this isn’t a whole MONTH late

𝑴𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒅𝒂𝒔

♡ Sometimes Meliodas was just too fucking cute.

♡ Even though you were well aware of how his mind works, being the victim of his impulses, you couldn’t help but want to squish his cheeks until the end of time.

♡ And it just so happened that you were getting ready and decided to wear your new, bright red lipstick when he came in with all his cheeky glory.

𓆩♡𓆪

“Yo, (y/n)! What’cha doin’?” He asks you with a smile, closing the door behind him and leaning on it. You turn from your vanity with a matching expression. He was in his usual outfit--he always refused variety in his wardrobe. You’ve gotten used to seeing him, but you will always be excited to see his face. Especially his cheeks.

“I’m just playing around with some makeup,” you tell him. He hums and you return your gaze to the mirror. Delicately, as to not knock anything over, you grab your newest shade of lipstick and apply it to your lips.

Meliodas stays silent as he watches from across the room.

When you were satisfied, you put the lipstick down and reached for a spare napkin, only for you to stop in your tracks when you make eye contact with Meliodas through the mirror.

Your smile grew when an idea popped into your head. “Meliodas,” you coo, “Come here please.”

Meliodas pushes himself off the door and does as you say. “What’s up?” He asks, stopping next to you.

You say nothing, only pulling his face down to your level. With quick vigor, you press a dozen kisses on his cheeks; six bright red kiss marks decorated his face like freckles. Finally, you press one last passionate kiss on his lips. He parted with a silly smile stretching his face.

He knew he’d be getting teased for it, but he couldn’t bring himself to wipe the lipstick off. In fact, he’d wear the markings proudly until the day they wore off.

𓆩♡𓆪

♡ And just as he expected, Meliodas was teased. A lot.

♡ He wasn’t the only one being teased, though. Ban teasing the both of you all day about you both being perverts.

♡ Despite that, never once did he consider wiping your art off.

♡ Meliodas is the type of guy to love any kind of marking, giving or receiving, so he was in bliss the whole time.

♡ At the end of the day, he knew he was loved and the markings were proof of that. Don’t be surprised if he starts buying lipsticks of all kinds and asking you to mark him lower, too. Maybe you could even make a rainbow!

𝑩𝒂𝒏

♡ When you finally got your hands on a lipstick you had your eyes on forever, you couldn’t help but put it on straight away.

♡ You picked out a cute outfit to match, too. You were just so excited!

𓆩♡𓆪

You smiled to yourself, admiring yourself in your bathroom mirror. You had a dress, cute shoes, the jewelry Ban stole from you--you were only missing one thing. Excitedly, you grabbed your new lipstick and started putting it on, leaning closer to the mirror.

Knock, knock.

Ban opens the door without hearing your answer. “Hey, babe, Meliodas wants us--Oh,” he stops in the frame, gawking at you.

“Hey, hot-stuff,” Ban purrs, eyeing the dress you’re wearing. He walks to you confidently. “Going somewhere? I hope not. I didn’t know you had this dress,” he smirked.

“Yes, I’m going somewhere. It’s very important and I don’t need you smudging my makeup,” you attempt to scold him. Ban ignores your silent demand and leans down, pressing a kiss to your hairline.

You sigh. “One kiss,” you tell him, turning and pressing a kiss to his jawline. “Now, shoo! Out!”

Ban stops you by grabbing your hips and pressing you against the counter. “Oh, no, I’m not going anywhere,” he smirks. “But neither are you.” He grabs the lipstick from your hands and swipes it across your lips.

“You’re gonna need more of this.”

𓆩♡𓆪

♡ Ban doesn’t mind markings, but he prefers giving them over receiving them.

♡ This doesn’t mean he’ll tolerate teasing, oh, no. He’ll either fire back at them or brag about the marks.

♡ He will also get you more lipstick and opt to try it out, but instead of buying it like Meliodas, he just steals it. (They’re always new, however, since the one time he got you a used one you got a sore and he couldn’t kiss you until it healed.)

♡ Strangely enough, he found out he has a thing for lipstick thanks to you.

𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒈

♡ When you mentioned your date with King to Elizabeth, she decided to take you shopping while you were at a pit stop.

♡ There were many options, but you decided on something conservative. You didn’t want to give your favorite fairy a heart attack just yet--not until you were married, at least.

♡ It was a simple outfit, but one you knew he’d like. As a bonus, you had the cutest shade of lipstick to go with it!

𓆩♡𓆪

Elizabeth sat on your bed with the brightest smile, patiently waiting for you to leave the bathroom and show her your outfit. You two just got back from your shopping spree; you got a new outfit and Elizabeth got some jewelry, but the star of the show would be your new lipstick.

Until now, you had never worn any type of bold color on your lips. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t excited. With grace, you applied the final coat to your lips and strut dramatically out of the bathroom.

“What do you think? Is it too much?” You ask Elizabeth, your confidence suddenly flying out of you. You nervously wiped your hands on your outfit and smoothed the wrinkles.

“You look wonderful,” Elizabeth cheered, brightening your mood. “He’ll love it!” You returned her smile. No one could stay grumpy when Elizabeth was around, her joy was simply too contagious.

“Thank you,” you tell her.

Knock, knock, knock.

“(Y/n)? Are you in there?”

You open the door to see King with his fist raised. He almost looked surprised to see you; his face held shock, but there was a faint trail of pink on his cheeks.

You smile at him and ask, “Are you ready?” He grips his pillow and looks around the hallway, stuttering over his words. Whenever he tried to say something, he’d cut himself off and try to say something different.

“I-I just...” King sighs. “You look really pretty,” he mumbles, finally meeting your eyes. Your face warms and before you can think, you’re pressing a kiss to his cheek.

You pull back and giggle when you see the red stain on his face. “Come on, let’s go before it gets dark.” You grab his hand and pull him down the stairs. He floats after you with heart eyes, burning the feeling of your kiss into his brain.

𓆩♡𓆪

♡ Another person that gets teased for the kiss mark.

♡ He gets a lot more embarrassed than the others, though.

♡ He also can’t defend himself that well...

♡ If he gets teased enough, he’ll just hide away in his room.

♡ He’ll consider wiping the kiss off until he thinks about you being sad because of it.

♡ Chances are, because of that thought, he’ll keep the kiss there until it wears off or you wipe it off.

♡ He thinks they’re a little bit embarrassing--he will almost never ask for them unless he’s feeling bold.

𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐞

♡ This time you’re getting ready together!

♡ Diane has a large collection of beauty products and loves to share them with you.

♡ At least once a week the two of you are playing around in her makeup. Sometimes they’ll be considered dates and sometimes you’ll do it to get ready for actual dates, but they will happen.

♡ There is no escaping it.

♡ Everyone knows about these dates, too. Sometimes Elizabeth or even Merlin will join and it’ll be a girls’ night!

𓆩♡𓆪

You and Diane were sitting around and talking about life’s secrets when she decided to pull out her makeup. The two of you were gathered on the hardwood floor in front of a body-length mirror, her mountains of makeup sitting next to and in front of you.

With a smile, you pushed your cheek against hers and looked at her through the mirror. “Always,” you whisper.

“Oh, oh!” Diane chants, reaching into one of the piles and pulling out a hardly-used lipstick. “I got this a few days ago, but I totally forgot about it!”

She was quick to put it on her lips. Puckering them up, she turned to you with a duck face and mumbled, “Don’t I look cute?”

Diane squeals, “(Y/n) thinks I’m cute!” while rubbing her cheek against yours as if she was starting a fire. She continues to spout cheesy nonsense before attacking your cheeks.

One kiss turned into five and five kisses turned into twenty. Soon enough, your entire face was covered in her lipstick. The lipstick left on her lips was now smeared from her harassment, but the smile she had distracted you from that.

“Well, if you’re gonna be like that--” You start, snatching the tube of lipstick and putting it on erratically. Diane screamed and tried to run, but you grabbed her and returned her onslaught full-force.

In the end, the two of you were covered in lipstick--both of your lips were bare, however, instead, the lipstick was everywhere else. Diane would look back on this memory with fondness for the rest of her days.

𓆩♡𓆪

♡ She enjoys it as much as you do!

♡ However, she isn’t the type to keep it on all day. She can just ask you to give her more, after all.

♡ Ban is really the only one that teases her and she’ll brush it off like it’s nothing.

♡ She knows you love her and that’s all she cares about. The kisses are proof of that!

♡ Occasionally, she’ll ask you kiss in a specific spot if she’s looking to do a whole look. She’ll make something intricate with your kiss as the main course and will only take it off when she has to go to bed.

𝐆𝐨𝐰𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

♡ While Gowther was shopping for books, you wandered off and came across a beauty store.

♡ You planned on just looking around, but when does that ever work out?

♡ While you were exploring, a beautiful shade of red caught your eye.

♡ You tried the sample and sure enough, you looked amazing! You were quick to grab the tube and purchase it.

𓆩♡𓆪

You skipped swiftly down the streets, eyes set on the book store Gowther would no doubt be visiting. As if someone would steal it, you held onto your newest tube of lipstick with a grip of steel.

When you were just a few steps away, you slowed and took the lid off to put it on. With a finishing swipe, you rubbed your lips together and looked for Gowther.

“Gowther! Look what I got,” you call, seeing him exit the store with a few books in his hand. He looked at you for a moment before he noticed the change. A ruby red color, which was not there before, made itself present on your lips. It looked strangely... Kissable?

He points to your lips and asks, “What is that, girlfriend?”

You grab his hand and begin walking back to the tavern, where everyone was waiting. “It’s lipstick,” you inform him. “Makeup. It just makes you look nice. Do you like it?”

Gowther thinks for a moment before answering. “Yes,” he states. “I do like it. Why haven’t you shown me this earlier?”

You smile, “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it. You can be brutal, you know. I’m glad you like it!” Pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, you decide against telling him about the mark it left.

𓆩♡𓆪

♡ Gowther doesn’t understand them. In fact, he may even see them as unsanitary, considering how much germs the human mouth has.

♡ Are you surprised? This is Gowther, after all.

♡ But still, he’ll do what you want with them.

♡ Once you explain that it’s a sign of your love, he’s more open to keeping it on.

♡ He’ll even randomly point it out to other people and subtly brag!

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧

♡ You sat patiently in the front area of the Boar hat, waiting for Merlin to return from her escapade. A month ago, before she left, Merlin promised you that she would bring you something as a gift--a souvenir.

♡ Of course you were said to see her leave. Anyone would be!

♡ But the rest of the sins were good at keeping you distracted so you weren’t moping around.

♡ Thanks to them, the month passed by quickly.

𓆩♡𓆪

You sat at the bar of the Boar hat, staring at the door as if it owes you money. As humble as you wanted to appear, you knew you were being impatient. No doubt, you would be teased for this, but you didn’t care.

Your girlfriend is coming back today! Who wouldn’t be excited?

Your heart leaped into your throat when you heard footsteps approach the door. Merlin. Each step felt like a millennia apart. You had half the nerve to march over and swing that door open. There was a chance she was teasing you, after all. A chance she knew you would count her arrival by the second.

However, there was a chance that wasn’t her. So you waited.

Finally, the door opened and Merlin stepped in. She couldn’t say a word before you were latched onto her. You gave her a passionate kiss, your leg popping out of habit.

“Well, hello there,” she smiles, pulling away from your kiss, but not your touch. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” An obvious lie. This has been a long-going routine for years now--Merlin would go off on a mission and you would always be there to greet her.

She reaches into her cloak and pulls out a tube of lipstick--pink, just like hers. “I know how much you love to match. It just so happens that I found this while travelling and I thought of you,” she chirped, taking the cap off and applying it for you.

You admired her as she concentrated on your lips. A small smile graced her lips. When she finished, she put the cap where it belonged and put the tube of lipstick in her hands.

“Thank you,” you purr, leaning forward to give her a kiss on her lips, then her cheek.

Normally, Merlin would wipe the mark to avoid comments, but you were just reunited. Perhaps she could deal with the sins’ teasing.

𓆩♡𓆪

♡ Merlin prefers giving them instead of receiving them.

♡ She appreciates the sentiment, but sometimes she has important things to attend and when all her peers can focus on is the kiss marks you left behind, no work is done.

♡ However, giving them is like a little claim for her. She absolutely loves to see them.

𝐄𝐬𝐜𝐚��𝐨𝐫

♡ Giving Escanor kiss marks wasn’t a new concept.

♡ Whether it was cheering him on in his day form or cheering him up during the night, Escanor almost always had a kiss mark somewhere on him.

♡ Escanor loved nothing more than holding you in his arms while you kissed anything you could reach in his day form.

♡ In his night form, he loves holding you close so you can kiss him while he reads to you.

𓆩♡𓆪

You tried to pay attention to what Escanor was saying, you really did! But watching him next to you looking so kissable made it so hard. You were feeling especially loving tonight--you were damn near close to biting the man because of how cute he looks.

When Escanor offered to read to you, you didn’t hesitate to accept the offer. It was common, sure, but you would never get tired of hearing him describe a scene. He had a way of expressing a scene that made you feel like you were there yourself.

You were so busy admiring him you didn’t even notice when he stopped reading. “Dear?” Escanor calls to you, resting the book on his lap. “Are you alright? I’m not boring you, am I?”

“No, no! I just--” You stumble over your words. Your hands are waving wildly in the air, hoping you convey your message better than your words can.

You sigh, annoyed, and get up from your seat. Confidently, you strut to Escanor and plop onto the space next to him. Your legs are thrown over his and your arms are around his neck.

You grin when Escanor’s face flushes. “You’re just really cute,” you gush. While you press scattered kisses on his face, Escanor’s heart is beating faster than ever.

His thoughts are chaotic--how much he doesn’t deserve you, how he’s glad that no one else is here, to how he could feel the lipstick you left behind--but no matter what he thought about, it was always about you.

𓆩♡𓆪

♡ In the end, it doesn’t matter which form he’s in, he’ll always love them.

♡ He just gets more embarrassed over it during the night.

♡ But don’t let that fool you! He will never deny you from showing your love.

𓆩♡𓆪

#seven deadly sins x reader #meliodas x reader #king x reader #gowther x reader #harlequin x reaer #merlin x reader #escanor x reader #ban x reader #female reader #my writing #the seven deadly sins

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twola · 1 year

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Seven Deadly Sins - I

PAIRING: low to mid honor Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader

Summary: Because if one thing is true, it is that Arthur Morgan is a sinner. Pure, organic, non-GMO smut. A continuing series.

CW: Voyeurism, PiV Sex

Lust: an intense sexual desire or appetite, uncontrolled or illicit sexual desire or appetite; lecherousness, a passionate or overmastering desire or craving.

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That is the absolute last time he ever listens to some hare-brained plan dreamed up by Sean MacGuire. Abandoned cabin, he said, not a soul around, he went on. He just failed to mention that this cabin near Eris Field was a goddamn Lemoyne Raiders safe house. Not nearly worth the take, and now Arthur needed more shotgun shells. He made sure Sean caught hell before sending the boy off in the other direction. He cuffed him over the head for good measure.

Arthur swung around to the south of Rhodes to keep away from camp for a while, it was only a matter of time until those inbred hicks realized it was another gang encroaching on their territory.

He spurred his horse into a gallop as the sun set over the west, and a full moon rose over the hill country of Scarlett Meadows.

Arthur hits the shores of Flat Iron Lake just north of Braithwaite Manor.

He pats his mare’s head as she slows to a walk, breathing heavily, coat worked into a lathing sweat. “You’re alright, girl.”

Trailing along the shoreline, in the distance, he can see the faint lantern lights from the gang’s camp at Clemens Point. He stops the horse, allowing her to step down to the water and take a much-needed drink. Swinging off the saddle, he pops his shoulder, still feeling a twinge of pain from his ‘stay’ with the O’Driscolls weeks ago.

A sound reaches his ears, rustling of leaves, movement of water.

He ties up his horse against a tree, unholstering his revolver as he sneaks closer to the small cove that the shoreline creates. He takes cover behind a wide tree trunk, slowly clicking the safety off his revolver.

He peers on the other side of the tree at the rocky shoreline.

It is not some bounty hunter, or robber, or frankly any kind of threat.

It is you.

You’re partially obscured by the outcropping of rock, but there is more than enough moonlight to trace the sinuous curves of your body.

You’re completely bare, nude as the day you were born, washing yourself in the waters of Flat Iron Lake.

He should be blushing and turning away, leaving you privacy while he reaches camp from another direction. But as the moonlight dances on your dewy curves, Arthur is guided by another notion.

He did always say that he wasn’t a good man.

Arthur holsters his gun, trying to be as quiet as possible. He watches you with the eyes of a predator, a hungry wolf with a doe in its sights. It hasn’t been since his untried youth that he’s so governed by an urge like this, being driven by pulsing blood and hotheadedness and want.

You’re wringing out your long hair over your shoulder, the expanse of your back and the curve of your spine above your hips visible above the water.

He swallows, hidden by foliage, behind the tree trunk overlooking the cove where you bathe.

Arthur can’t say he’s ever looked at you like this, thrumming with the singular need to sink his cock into your body. You’ve been around a few years, a dependable thief, a decent shot, he looked at you no differently than he looked at Karen, Tilly, or Mary Beth. But now, seeing you like this, he’s driven by a need that pounds in his blood. He knows he shouldn’t be here, dirty old man , but by some kind of force far stronger than shame, he is rooted to the spot, breathing in a deep breath through his nose.

He uncomfortably shifts, his hand over his gun belt that’s slung across his hips, tighter now against his hardening cock. He pushes at it awkwardly, trying to find some damned relief.

You turn, humming to yourself while taking a step closer to the shore. More of your skin becomes visible to him as you rise from the water like some storybook nymph.

He swallows, tracing the rivulets of water down your frame, down over your pebbled nipples and the swell of your breasts, your soft belly, sliding down your skin into the thatch of dark hair at the apex of your thighs.

Arthur liked to think of himself as being above that. Not so completely enraptured by the female form that he could think of little else.

But right now? His stiffening cock pressing against his pants is his priority. With guidance that he knows could only come from thinking with his cock, he steps out of his hiding spot and down to the shoreline.

Leaves rustle on the ground.

You catch his gaze. Surprised, fearful, like a skittish doe in the jaws of that hungry wolf. Stunned into silence, into stillness.

Water continues to drip down your body. Nothing is hidden from his eyes.

Were he not but a trickle of that fresh lake water, trailing slowly down your skin, down your breasts, your soft belly, collecting at the cradle of your hips. Weaving its way through the hair there.

Drip, drip, dripping to the hidden, dewy skin of your cunt.

You swallow. Your skin breaks out into gooseflesh as you shiver under the cold weight of his stare. You should scream, you should run, you should hide yourself from him.

Should, should, should. All of these things you should do.

But the way he is looking at you. The way he is staring. The shadow across his face from the brim of that old leather hat. The telltale sign of heavy breathing, his chest rising and falling. You can see his fist clenching at his side.

Arthur has always been distant. You had heard talk of a woman he had been involved with years ago, some high society girl that broke his heart. Not that you were particularly eyeing anyone in the gang for any self-gratifying reason - it was less complicated that way.

But now, now, he looks at you with a hunger that needs to be slaked. Arthur Morgan. Dutch’s top gun. The enforcer. You’ve seen him break men with his two hands, those two hands that clench at his side as he struggles with some semblance of control.

In this moment, you imagine those hands on you.

Something, perhaps the traitorous clenching of your cunt around nothing when you look at him, goads you into speaking up.

“Want to join me, Arthur?”

Your voice is soft, breathy, when it reaches his ear. He continues to stare, gnawing at his lower lip for moments that seem like an eternity.

His cock is so hard it’s almost painful, straining against the fabric of his jeans. A cool breeze rushes in from the lake and you shiver, the goose flesh that springs up on your skin makes him itch to touch you. Even feet away, he can see your nipples darken and harden.

“Are you coming?” You whisper at him, your hand slowly raising toward his still form.

The double entendre is not lost on him.

Arthur hasn’t been one to be guided by his cock, certainly not recently. Not in years. He’s not one to seek out whores in far-flung cattle towns the gang rolls through like a prairie wind. But Christ , if you aren’t here, hand outstretched, beckoning him to come to you.

His gun belt lands on the ground with a clatter. Arthur is kicking his boots off while shrugging his suspenders down his arms, fevered in his movements. His satchel joins his belt on the ground. He refuses to look away from your figure, refuses to give up a single moment of the moon shining down on the expanse of your skin.

Arthur works at the buttons of his work shirt, one by one, as his breathing becomes heavier. He nearly rips his shirt off, it falls to the ground over his discarded gun belt. The Lemoyne heat and humidity are stifling, and he has forgone a union suit underneath his clothing.

You suck in a breath, and he sees a glint of hunger in your eyes, beginning to match what he’s sure is emanating from his own.

His hands glide to the buttons of his pants, pressing them between the fabric eyes, his cock insistent against his fly.

One, two, three.

You stare at him, your gaze darting downward from his hungry eyes to his broad chest, covered in wiry hair. His arms, muscled and sculpted and brawny. The way his waist slightly tapers inward down to his hips. He is hewn from decades of intensive labor, the chase of violence, living on the lam.

The trail of dark hair from his navel that disappears under his pants becomes more and more visible to your gaze at each button he undoes. His fly hangs open for a moment, before he hooks both of his hands at the sides of his pants and slides them down, baring himself to you the way you are to him. He tosses his pants into the pile of clothing on the shore.

He steps into the water, unafraid, confident, driven. Wading toward you, the water creeping up with each step, up his calves, past his knees, up his thighs to where his engorged cock hangs heavy.

Arthur reaches you, his hungry hands on your body as your breath hitches, shivering as you close your eyes. A thumb brushes over one of your nipples. Fingers dance across the soft skin of your inner thigh, moving closer to the apex, and you widen your stance unconsciously, as your hands find their way to his chest, palms spread wide over the planes of his solid pectorals.

Your eyes snap open as your breath quickens, Arthur drags the knuckle of his pointer finger between your folds. You gasp, and in response his mouth hangs open, his other hand leaving your breast to dart down to his cock, stroking it slowly as he rubs at your core.

“A-Arthur,” you stutter, one of your hands moving to his forearm, clenching it tightly as he presses against you.

“ Jesus , woman.” He slips a finger inside you and you keen, head thrown back and gasping to the nighttime sky. Arthur groans in response, his other hand moving from his cock to grasp roughly at the back of your neck, pulling you forward, nearly stumbling into him, and captures your lips with his own, smothering your high-pitched wail with his mouth.

The hard, hot line of him is pressed against your hip, insistent, and as you quickly get used to his ministrations in your cunt, you reach between your bodies to ghost your palm over his cock, taking the place of his hand that is winding through the hair at the nape of your neck.

It’s his turn to groan, and you feel the vibrations of the low register of his voice down your spine, he juts his hips against you. He pulls away, gasping, pupils blown. His hand moves slowly back from your neck to cup your jaw, the rough skin of his thumb tracing your lips.

You open your lips and take his thumb in your mouth, sucking gently. His eyes widen, mouth twitching for a moment. You feel him push a second finger into your cunt and you burn , your teeth clenching down on his thumb gently as you suck.

You know, you know , that there is no going back from here, that you’re about to tread on dangerous ground, but from the way your vision narrows to the pulsing of your blood underneath your skin, you don’t care.

Arthur stares down at you, his thumb in your mouth, fingers in your cunt. One of your hands lazily strokes at his cock, your thumb swiping over its head every few strokes.

He draws his hand from your mouth and leans back in to take your lips against his again. His tongue presses against yours. You’re completely pliant against him.

“Gonna fuck y’ now.” He pants into your mouth, taking his hands from their places and quickly grabbing the undersides of your thighs, hoisting you from the water as your hands find his shoulders. Your legs immediately wrap around his hips.

Your lips remain locked on his as he wades back toward the shoreline, and once he’s out of the water, he’s sinking to his knees, bending over to lay you out on the ground.

Your hands card through his honeyed locks, as he presses his lips to yours again. He settles in between your hips, his cock pressing against your thigh.

You moan into his mouth, and one of your hands reaches between the two of you to grasp him, guiding him in between your thighs.

He pushes inside.

It’s slow, as much as he wants to fuck you until you scream, he can get to that later. Inch by torturous inch, he presses forward, until the bones of both of your hips touch, and he is buried deep within you.

Christ, you’re just as tight, wet, and warm as he’d thought you’d be.

He grunts, rolling his hips back to withdraw, then pushing forward again, swallowing your moan as his lips remain on yours.

There he is, fucking you on the sandy shoreline of Flat Iron Lake, the both of you naked as the day you were born, kissed by moonlight. He pulls away from your lips, and you both breathe fast, panting breaths.

“ God -” you croon, your blunt nails digging into his back.

He chuckles lowly, “Not quite.”

Arthur loops one of your legs over his shoulder, and your babbling becomes incoherent as he widens the yaw of your legs, and you struggle to keep your eyes open.

He’s careening toward completion, that feeling deep in his gut where he knows he’s about to have this burning energy that’s overtaking him pulled out through his cock.

You’re shamelessly moaning beneath him, gasping syllables of his name. God, hopefully, you ain’t so loud the camp hears you, cause there would be absolutely no hiding what he’s doing to you.

“I’m, ooh- god…” you spit out, voice breathy as you begin to arch underneath him, your cunt embarrassingly wet, the squelching of his thrusts becoming louder as you cry out, clenching around his cock, scratching his back near painfully. Arthur continues to fuck you through your release, chasing his own as his breathing tumbles into panting as he slams his hips into your own. He lets your leg down from his shoulder.

Arthur pulls out with not a moment to spare, the hot spatter of his release against your inner thigh as your back continues to arch against him. He groans, his forehead against yours, out of breath, barely holding himself up as his forearms bracket either side of your head.

You sigh, satiated, breathy, slowly coming down from your high, “Mister Morgan.”

“At your service, ma’am.” He places his head in the hollow of your shoulder, nipping slightly at your neck before he rolls off of you.

You’re both covered in sandy mud, streaks of the red clay that helps give Scarlett Meadows its name coating your skin.

“Looks like I need another bath. I was almost done, ‘fore you interrupted me.” You sit up, wiping at a smudge of mud on your hip bone.

“Mm, could help ya there, if y’ need it.”

You roll your eyes at him, and he reaches over to pinch at your hip, causing you to giggle and scoot further away from him.

“Arthur. Knock it off or we ain’t ever gonna get clean.” You scold but cannot keep the smile from your face. You push yourself up to stand, moving back toward the water, stepping in gingerly, wading out until you can sink down so the water covers your shoulders.

Arthur reclines back, propped up on his elbow, watching you pick leaves and twigs from your long hair.

You turn around, catching his eye. “You coming in?”

Arthur snorts, looking down, but cannot keep the grin from his face. He pushes himself up from the ground, standing up and wading into the water.

“Y’know, Mister, you ain’t half bad.”

“You ain’t half bad yourself, Miss.”

He circles you, your hair fanned out in the water. You eye him with a glint of mischief.

“I wouldn’t mind if we did that from time to time.”

“Oh? Would you now….” He reaches toward you, and you push a small wave of water at him in response.

“Mhm. But not now. You’ve got mud on your face.”

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