You are carrying the Morro nation😭 I want to request something, if your requests are still open, of course!
if you could write smut? Morro x female reader? I understand if you’re uncomfortable writing it.
Carrying Morro Nation ಥ﹏ಥ You really think that? It makes me so happy to hear , thank you for the support. To answer what you’re wondering- yes my requests are open for atleast the next 2 months, and yes I am comfortable with writing smut. The reason i don’t write it is because it’s difficult to appeal to peoples’ sexual preferences in a fic. Something specific to stories with smut is: when a character does something that turns somebody off- they’re more than likely to just click off, atleast in my experience 😭 furthermore, Smut’s pretty challenging to write and don’t think it would be as good as the fluff or angst I write. I’m only gonna improve if I try though :) I decided to make the reader the sub cuz I think that’s what most female fans of his are into. thanks for the rec. Disclamer !! He is not high to the point where he can’t consent in this fic.
Dirty Laundry ˚.🎀༘⋆
Morro x F!Reader, Ressurected!Morro AU. Contains smut, Sub!Reader.
Nsfw
❤︎
Please do not continue if you cannot handle mature themes and language involving sex.
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You like him when he’s on something. Whether he just took an edible or he drank tea with shrooms boiled into it, his gaze just relaxes. His eyes aren’t upturned anymore, his forehead isn’t scrunched up like it always is. Of course you love his forever frowny face, but it’s nice to see a change of pace.
He’s bolder now, body language communicating that he’s open, that he wants you on him, or your mouth on him— with the way he’s splayed out on your couch, the way his words are slurring. He’d probably get annoyed with himself if he was sober.
“You look so pretty.. stop teasin’ me..” He frogblinks at you, little smile on his face.
“You are such a spoiled brat. Me wanting to fold my laundry before touching you is me teasing you?”
“Yes. You have your boyfriend over and you’re doing chores instead of paying attention to him..”
“I started doing this two minutes ago, and I’m practically done. I paid all my attention to you the rest of the time.”
“Hmph. You n’ your logic, always have to have the last word… can’t let me have anything…”
You shoot him a puzzled look , wondering what this guy’s even mad about. But like a 4 year old, he gets over whatever it was a moment later, when he scoots over on the couch to touch your arm.
“Forget about your laundry. Do it after I leave.” He mutters while patting your arm.
“Oh come on. You weren’t talking to me before I started folding it. Now that I’m making myself busy, you’re just dying for me to talk to you? You’re such an attention whore.”
“That stopped being an insult the hundreth time y’said it.”
“You identify with that label now? Attention whore?”
“Neversaidthat”
You fold your panties in half, right when a sickly, desperate hand meets wrist.
“Izzat yours?” He grumbles
“No, it’s yours.” You snatch it back. “It’s frilly with bows on it. Who the hell do you think it belongs to?”
“Can I have it?”
That one actually renders you speechless for a second.
“No! It was expensive.”
“You’ve gotten me pricier gifts…”
“I haven’t even told you how much it cost..” You set your stack of clothes aside, turning your body toward him and peering into his eyes.
“Are you always this horny after taking an edible?”
“I’m practically sober..”
“Right. So all this desperation is just your default, huh?”
His grin doesn’t falter. “Only for you.”
You smile. “You’re too good at this. Come here.”
You put your hand behind his head and lean into his face. The kiss was supposed to be short, but he won’t pull away. He’s gotten his tongue involved, so you know he’s very serious about full on making out.
He’s got lungs of steel ; Kissing him is a workout. You’re out of breath by the time he pulls away. His hands are on your shoulders, gripping on before he moves his mouth over to your throat. You can tell his placement is deliberate, because he’s about to give you a hickey in a spot you need a shitton of foundation to cover up. He knows you don’t wanna waste all your product like that, and aren’t interested in wearing scarves and turtlenecks over the summer— so you’ll just have to wear the mark he left on you out in the open, in plain sight. You would’ve told him to stop if you didn’t like it. He knows that.
You’re gripping onto his hair, whimpering as he’s sucking onto the delicate skin of your neck. He presses on it a little bit after pulling away, which makes you wince and frown at him. He’s just grinning back, because he knows you aren’t opposed to it at all.
His thumb’s playing with your bra strap, so you tell him to cut the shit and to just take it off. And somehow, he does it with more coordination than you can, without even having to look at it. He wants pussy that bad.
He slides his hand under the band of your sweats. You put your on top.
“All this, and you’ve still got a jacket on… I wanna see something good looking too, you know…”
“So my face isn’t good-looking? Thass what you’re saying?”
“No, it’s not what I’m saying and you know that.” You take his jacket off, and he complies by pulling his arms out of the sleeves.
“Can’you prove it?”
“What?”
“Look at my face the entire time?”
“…That’s.. gonna be hard, you know..”
“Not’f you think I’m as good looking azzyou say I am.”
“God, you will just use anything to your advantage.Won’t you?”
He doesn’t confirm or deny. He just continues where he left off ; at your hips, until you're just in your underwear, something he can easily slide to the side.
He lays you down on your couch, one leg wrapped around his hip, the other dangling off the surface.
“Atleast put a towel down.” You complain, but there’s no real bite to it. You’ll live.
“Don’t feel like it…”
You’re soaked, but he keeps marking up your neck— like he wants to really drive that ownership point home when he finishes inside— that the love bites are just the beginning, they’re just the part other people can see.
“Oh and I’m the tease, yeah?” You tilt your head back, which just gives him more room.
“ ‘S called foreplay…”
“it’s excessive.”
“Don’ tellme whattuhdo”
You groan, letting him pin you down and plant red bruises all over your upper body. You reach for the zipper of his pants when he grabs your wrist and holds it down. He doesn’t say anything but gives you a look that communicates, “Seriously? You thought I’d let you?”
You’re about to start tuning it out when he abruptly pulls your hand out of his hair and moves back to where your ankles are. He lifts one up and places it over his shoulder. You hear his zipper being undone.
You feel him press against your soaked entrance. Just the head of his cock is wrapped around your warmth for a few seconds before he adjusts his position, pushes in, and sinks himself into your cunt, which elicits a sharp gasp from you. He’ll go from doing something that barely counts as touching— to fucking you like he’s trying to split you down the middle. You hold onto the armrest of the couch, panting as he experiments with what angle he wants you to cum on his cock in.
He’s so grateful for birth control at this moment, ‘cause he can’t imagine pulling out before finishing. You likely won’t get pregnant. And if you do? He’s not at all opposed to being the reason why. He’s thrilled to, even if you guys aren’t really ready yet.
“You aren’t lookin’at me”
“It’s hard… and awkward..”
“Ohhhh. Izzit? Then I guess you don’t have to anymore…” he rolls his eyes. “C’mon, baby. You can do it. Don’t get shy on me. You weren’t shy when you called me ‘n attention whore.”
“As if that’s even comparable…”
He takes your jaw in his hands. Not gripping, just holding between his fingers. Not forcing you to stare at him, but encouraging. And it works. You cave, you sink your back deeper into the couch and stare up at him, only ever looking away when you have to roll your eyes back ‘cause it feels so good. His response to you saying he’s in too deep will either be to try to go deeper, or to apologize and pull back a little. You can never predict what he’s gonna do, and in this case, he’s determined to cum inside of you.
He lowers his body, the space above his dick rubbing onto your clit with every movement of his hips. When he feels the warm walls of your cunt clench around him, he groans— any determination in his face disappearing and being replaced with a look of bliss. He’s loud, moaning incoherent variations of “fuck” “please” “shit” “ugh” “god” in your ear, into your chest, into your neck. If you weren’t so overwhelmed yourself, you’d call it cute how he can’t control himself when he feels a lot at once. Your whole apartment complex probably knows by now what a satisfied boyfriend he is.
You feel him throb inside you, matching the same pulsating rhythm as your own orgasm. His grip on your trembling thighs doesn’t get weaker, despite his control over his voice faltering.
His warm, thick, gooey release fills you up— and it wipes the thoughts from your brain for a couple seconds. What you can still comprehend though, is him muttering how it “feel’sogood” into your chest.
Minutes go by, and the space where you guys are connected is sticky. He pulls back a little, a string of cum connecting his cock to your cunt.
Neither of your senses are sharp, but you manage to notice him taking the underwear he took off of you into his hand.
“Answer’s still no… you can’t have it..”
Can you please write female reader who's gnc af x morro 😭🙏 Everyone (including morro) assumes reader is a man because of her height and muscles so she binds her chest to embrace it. Morro somehow finds out reader is a lady and is SHOCKED but reader is so nonchalant about it
This was difficult to do because he’d probably assume reader is just a trans man and not question past that 😭😭 but since this is supposed to be him x reader.. it makes sense for him to be curious and peer further . this concept is cool!! I think he’d be into any cool looking person, regardless of gender. I gave the reader above shoulder length hair for one like I thought would be funny. I’m imagining a pretty androgynous haircut :) . Morro is pansexual in this fic!! Also the slang I use will be painfully American.
It changes nothing
Resurrected !Morro AU, Morro x reader, F! Reader, fic takes place way after the events of day of the departed
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You met at a party. The guys he was playing beer pong with were not quiet in the slightest. His alcohol tolerance and, accurate aim despite totally wasted impressed you— it told you a lot about his habits; His coping mechanisms. When a guy who walked in looking like death with his arms crossed is suddenly sprawled out on someone’s couch, practically drooling, it piques your interest.
He made more conversation than he would have if he were sober. But he was quite coherent , nonetheless. You were getting bored. Told him you’d head out soon. He just.. holds his hand out. Fingers gesturing “give it here” .
“…What?” You ask, amused.
“Your phone? For my number?” He doesn’t even look smug. Just irritated, like “this is how it always goes. How could you deny me?”
You had some resistance , because somebody had to humble him. But after he called you a “pretty guy”, head tilting like he was getting impatient — you gave into his charms.
You guys went your separate ways , all while he thought you were a dude. Born and raised like one, your whole life. He even commented on your voice, saying it sounds like you’ve, “never been blue-balled before”.. You suppose that’s his trashy way of saying your voice is feminine.
Over text, you found out you were attending the same music festival next week.
You spot him just by the entrance, immediately. He’s hard to miss. You are, too. Because when you looked at him, his eyes were already on you.
“You’re late.” He picks at his nail before meeting your gaze.
“…When did you get here?”
“9 in the morning? Like any normal person would?”
“Right. You and the twelve other people here at 9 are the only normal people attending.”
“The shows start at 11.”
“Which is exactly why showing up at 9 is crazy! Did you get here early just so you could get annoyed with me for being late?”
“Don’t.. flatter yourself, I don’t plan my schedule around you. Or anyone but me.”
“So you were just planning on spending an hour and thirty minutes all by yourself?”
“I was planning on spending it with somebody who’d get here on time. But you took forever. And you showed up with friends, so..”
“We’re into the same stuff as you. Don’t worry. We’ll be watching the same shows.”
“I’m not exactly thrilled about hanging out with total strangers.”
“This is the second time you’re seeing me in person, though.”
The next thing he says is so sarcastic, he probably means it.
“We exchanged songs recommendations for an entire week. I thought that meant something.”.
He gives you a dramatic pout, hands in his pockets, head tilted down, eyes staring into yours.
An hour in, and the sun is blaring. The weather forecast said something totally different, so obviously everyone’s a little pissed. Water’s scarce now, but you guys came prepared. You notice he’s a little cautious when drinking it. You wonder why.
He says he’s gonna be a gentleman by throwing something out for you, so he goes and does that. You can’t barely breathe under all your layers. You unbutton your shirt, revealing the binder underneath. You’re considering taking the whole thing off and just wearing your shirt over your sports bra. Nothing’s worth a heat stroke. You lift your head up to see Morro looking at you like he’s seen a ghost.
“…Hey” you smile. “Done being chivalrous? Next band’s setting up right now.”
“Uhh.. yeah. Yeah, I am. Sorry. For lookin’ at you like that. Do.. you want my shirt? It’s pretty baggy. I’m sure you don’t wanna get dysphoric just ‘cause it’s hot.”
“Dysphoric? I’m.. not transitioning, or anything. I’m a woman. I was born one. Still am.”
“Oh. Huh?” Now he raises a brow like he’s upset, offering you a hair tie off his wrist.
“But I’ve called you a man so many times. You didn’t correct me.”
“..Yeahhhh.. Sorry, I was just kinda fucking with you. Wanted to see when you’d figure it out.”
“Well how the hell did you expect me to ever figure it out? I only know now because of the weather. How long were you gonna keep this a secret?”
“Not long. I would’ve told you next week if you didn’t know by then.” You respond, tying your hair back.
“..Y’know, I was really excited to see another dude with hair that actually went past his ears..”
You laugh. “Sorry…”
“I’m just.. I mean, that explains your voice..” his eyes are wide , like he still can’t believe it. The person he’s been envisioning you as in his head has been a lie. “I mean, it doesn’t change much. I swing that way too, but damn.”
His shock is evident, but the way he says that second part does make your ears heat up a bit.
“Why do you do it? You don’t seem very bothered. You just like to mess around with people?” He’s just curious now, leaning against the board with the setlist written on it.
“People have always assumed it. So.. I thought, fuck it. Go along with it. It’s cool, actually. Living life as the gender you don’t relate to whatsoever, but people treat you like it. I do get a kick out of messing with people, too.”
He scratches his head. “..Yeah, me too. Just sucks to be the one that got fooled. Damn.”
“You’re fighting everything not to look at my chest.”
“Oh, be quiet. I’m not trying to be a perv or anything, I just.. did not think those were there. You don’t understand the mindfuck this is.”
“I do! That’s why I do it!” You’re giggling.
There’s admiration in the way he looks at you. The commitment to playing into what people think of you because you don’t wanna fight it anymore, and that image becoming a part of who you are..? He can resonate with that.
“Does being out here like this make you feel less like yourself..?” He asks, shifting into more personal territory out of the blue.
That catches you off guard for a second. You put your hand behind your head in thought.
“...I… ammm not sure. I’ve spent so much time making myself look like this, you know? Playing into it. I guess it is a part of me. and looking like this in public does feel a little weird, yeah.”
You blink, and he’s taking his shirt off. He insists you wear it, and that his jacket will suffice for his own coverage. “It’ll be a bit big on you, but that’s the point.”. You try to reject. But he won’t take that from you. The gentleman thing wasn’t a joke, it seems. He’s capable of a lot more than sweet-talk.
So by the end of the festival, your binder’s in your bag; And you head home in his clothes.
