#i fucking hate drawing cowboy hats
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au where kenny joins the scouts part 2
#levi ackerman#kenny ackerman#erwin smith#eruri#aot#snk#attack on titan#shingeki no kyojin#shingeki no kyoujin#my draws#I'll trust your judgement#i fucking hate drawing cowboy hats
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remember i said cowboy/western yhk? bam
#i really love these designs but i fucking hate drawing guns#and cowboy hats#so#dont get too excited#still had a good time though!#orv#omniscient reader#omniscient reader's viewpoint#kdj#kim dokja#hsy#han sooyoung#yjh#yoo joonghyuk#yhk#yoohankim#orv au#orv western au#bard draws
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hehe barbie outfittt
sketch and other stuff under the cut :3
#IDK WHYYY I DIDNT DO THIS SOONER….#u might be able to tell from the sketch but i fucking hate drawing cowboy hats#also took forever to get the pink to not clash horrifically with their hair. i hate them.#i was gonna draw jackie in kens outfit but she just isn’t him. to me.#so naturally….#sheriff sam#wtnv
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*bangs head on table*
HOW THE FUCK DO YOU DRAW A FUCKING COWBOY HAT
#cowboy hat more like cowboy HATE#IM LOSING MY FUCKING MIND I WANT TO JUST DRAW AT LEAST A PART OF THE LINEART FOR THIS STUPID DRAWING AND ITS ALREADY ALMOST 11PM#AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHGHHH#don’t get me wrong I fucking love Deacon just ASAGHG
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IM NEVER DRAWING AGAIN.
#MICHAEL WALTERS. WHY THE FUCK. i was going to expand on that but nevermind.#FUCKING COWBOY HATS. COWBOY HATS. I HATE DRAWING COWBOY HATS#IM GOING TO TEAR MY HAIR OUTTTTTT#43489996688 EDITS TO THIS ONE GODDAMN FUCKING PIECE. I HATE THIS FUCKING BULLSHIT IM QUITTING FOREVER GOODBYE.
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❝GIDDY UP & GO!!... ❞
word count: 3.3k
warnings: subbot! male reader, domtop! boothill, genitals are not explicitly mentioned, grinding, no actual penetration, unnecessary descriptions how much there is of spit (sorry if ur not into that), predator/prey if u squint, nd gunplay if u squint really really hard (is implied), lots of pentnames, praise, save a horse ride a cowboy but I change a factor, cowboy hat rule because RRGHGHGRHRGHHGHGHG
prompt: boothill has made it his life mission to cash in the money he gets when he lands you behind bars. however, when it becomes apparent as to why you let him pursue you, he begins to chase you for an entirely different reason
notes: lost 50/50 to yanqing (he's still my kid nd I love him regardless YANQING HATERS LEAVE!!!!) when wishing for aventurine. now I'm pulling for boothill if I don't get my little gambler (if Sunday is playable and better than boothill then im sorry to my fav cowboy yeehaw) not beta read
fem aligned dni
“Oh, my.”
Boothill hates your guts. That’s a given.
He hates the way you carry yourself, the sly remarks you’ll make if you spot even one hint of insecurity, the slight draw on certain syllables to give a mocking tone- you, in general. Although he’s more on the bothering side than the bothered, you’re just so much more annoying than he thought even possible. Guess that’s why you’re known as a high-end bandit.
He’s been on your tail for weeks, chasing any leads (a lot of them, like you wanted the chase) he could get his hands on. He’s even seen you slinking around taverns, poker tables, run-down hotels- for fucks’ sake, even on horseback racing down a dirt path while attempting to rob a moving train. To feel the satisfaction of seeing the credits Boothill would obtain after putting you behind bars is all he wants to experience because this is just getting ridiculous.
So, why the hell now, is he bound up to the ceiling with chains thicker than his own ankle after finding your base?
The amused smile finds its way upon your lips and Boothill wants to do nothing more than to kick it right off. You were in a vulnerable position before he decided to sneak in, with your chair tipped as your feet were kicked up on a busted wooden table, a bandana resting over your eyes to block out the sunlight that dared to drift into the room. Boothill made the dumbest mistake by alerting you of his presence through triggering a well hidden trip-wire. Perking you up, you began to rise from your seat, swiftly removing the bandana from your eyes and fingers instinctively on the handle of your revolver that sat on the gun holster strapped to your thigh. The trap triggered so fast, Boothill’s sensors barely had time to react to it before the ‘snap!’s and ‘crack!’s echoed throughout the room and he was pressed against the ceiling within seconds.
Sharp glares were stabbing through your form as your hand rested on your hip as you whistled, looking up at the ranger in slight surprise and smugness. Aeons, he hated you.
“Wow, such a reckless move to jus’ prance yer way in here, no? Hey, aren't cha a Galaxy Ranger or somethin’?” You tease, swiveling your chair so that you could sit backwards on it, crossing your arms atop of the back rest so you could rest your chin on your forearms, “Surely, ya coulda suspected that I woulda set up a trap. But why waste all yer precious time on someone as measly as me? I ain’t nothin’ but a lil’ ol’ bandit.”
“You better seal yer pretty lil’ lips, doll.” Boothill hisses at you, his voicebank glitching to censor the words he so desperately wanted to say, “My bullets don’t take too kindly to sweet talkers n’ foxes.”
A laugh echoes throughout the falling apart structure then settles into a hum as you stand up and kick the chair against the wall, “Ya sure like to talk big. Kinda fits ya, though.” The chair slams right under Boothill and you slowly make your way towards it, the clinking of spurs on your boots highlighting every step you take.
Looking up at the suspended robot, your left foot raises and rests on the seat, leaning in to provoke the cyborg even further, “It’s kinda cute how ya keep pursuin’ me despite all these failed attempts. How ‘bout I give ya more of a reason to keep chasin’ me than only doin’ it for jus’ the credits?”
Boothill’s eyebrows creased in suspicion as your hand raises up to his face, contemplating just biting your fingers straight off until he hears the click of the safety and a metal barrel against the human skin of his jaw. His teeth clench in anger as you nearly laugh at his compliance, reaching above his head and snatching his hat right off.
Oh, he was going to kill you for sure-
The hat plops onto your head and you wink at him while sticking your tongue out.
What.
There wasn’t-
There was no way.
“Catch me if ya can, cowboy.” You say dismissively, briskly turning around and walking out of the rundown hideout. However, before you could get out of his line of sight, your head turned to face him and you said, “I’ll be waitin’. As always.”
Dumbfounded and a half an hour later collapsed on the floor from the wooden boards snapping- which loosened the chains, he replays that minute over and over again. He didn’t want to believe that had actually happened but his memory told him otherwise.
There was no way that you...
Whatever. He’ll think about it later. He needs to get his damn hat back.
The first time Boothill finds you, it’s in a more forest-y area. You’re on your trusty steed, talking to some other criminals with little interest. The cowboy watches the interaction, paying special attention to your reactions to see if you’ve noticed his presence. From what he could tell, you didn’t seem to see that he was watching while using the shrubbery to cover him and the horse he was on. The people you were talking to he recognized from some wanted posters, only worth some credits. Not as much as your bounty, though.
...
...You’re still wearing his hat.
“Look, partner,” Your voice dips into an exhausted, low, sigh, “I need that shipment as soon as possible, ya hear? I ain’t got too much time left before she’s reached her time. Ion care how ya get it, I need it in at least a week! Otherwise she’ll get real snappy and I’m gonna hafta put some lead in some poor person's head.”
One of the bandits flashes a worried look to another, “Boss, ya don’t understand! The Xianshou Luofu’s been havin’ sum sorta delay! We ain’t gonna get those packages ‘til some long period of time!”
Boothill’s interest peaks as you begin to snap, “Did ya not hear me? I said, ‘Ion care how ya get them!’ Find a way! Talk to that Trailblazer everyone’s been praisin’ about or somethin’! Jus’ get me my stuff before ‘m gonna start blowin’ some brains out-”
A rustle causes you to pause your sentence as you draw your weapon immediately, the barrel facing his direction and bullets fly. Boothill’s horse had begun to munch on the bush, which gave away his position, but thankfully he moved quick enough to get out of the way.
You decided to book it when you caught sight of the familiar white and black hair, spurs hitting the sides of your horse as you begin to get out of the area to leave nothing but a trail of dust. Boothill doesn’t hesitate to race after you, whipping the reins of his horse to get her going.
Branches and twigs tug at Boothill’s hair as he chases you through the forest, lowering his torso so that he could lessen the wind resistance as his horse’s hooves slam against the ground. You’re quite the distance away, mostly because your horse is pretty speedy. It’s how you get away from crime scenes so fast. However, Nellie, the horse Boothill is riding currently, is also quite fast.
Although, not fast enough because in the end, he still loses you.
The curses he spits all get censored immediately as he slows into a stop, head turning in every direction to see if you left any trail behind. Only to see none. Didn’t expect as much from a skilled criminal.
The second time he spots you is in the tavern, playing a game of poker with people that had their pockets stuffed full of cash. ‘Rich folk,’ Boothill grimaces as he could see them tilt their chin up like the world owes them something. If you rob them, he won’t feel even a sliver of remorse.
He knows that you can see him as he leans against the wall to watch the match, some of the rich getting intensively frustrated as they begin to fold after betting so high. Judging by the scheming smile on your face, he could tell you have a winning hand. Then again, when are you never smiling like you have something up your sleeve?
Finally, in the showdown, you and the person you’re going up against reveal your cards and you win with a four of a kind. Lucky.
The people at the table groan and push their chips in your direction, getting up to leave as their attitudes have just been soured over that singular match. Boothill takes the opportunity to walk over to you and remove the gun from his holster and press it right up against your lower back, hand coming up to snatch his hat that rests atop your head.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
A window shatters behind him and he could hear flames begin to roar but he doesn’t dare tear his eyes away from you. Only when he feels cold metal press against the nape of his neck does his actions falter and his eyes turn to face whoever decided to draw their weapon.
He blinks in shock to see a figure completely made of water, his gaze returning to you and seeing you sitting on the edge of the table with your gun pressed against his forehead. Shit. He’s lost again.
The tavern completely surrenders to the flames as people scream at the sight of fire, swallowing up the alcohol and wood. Boothill can hear his fans whirring to prevent himself from overheating but the attempt is futile as the room begins to get unbearably hot. He’s not sure if it’s just the fire that’s causing him to overheat or it’s because you look insanely good with all this red and orange light.
...
What is he even thinking right now?
“Y’know, it’s gettin’ real fun toyin’ with ya, cowboy.” You speak, completely unbothered by all the heat in the building. He can’t even see a single drop of sweat on your face. Even so, you continue, “But I think ya can do a little better than this.”
The ranger’s lips purse in offense, glaring at you as best as he could. The gun you had pointed lazily at his forehead falls to the floor and Boothill isn’t sure how long he can last in this heat. Before his system could finally shut down because of overheating, he could feel your lips press against the area where your gun was pressed up against. Then, he falls over as his system forcibly turns him off.
The third time Boothill sees you, he’s lying on a metal workbench with cold water floating above him and fans blowing in his direction. He’s confused, obviously, and on his toes as he realizes he’s not in an area he’s not familiar with. He attempts to sit up to find a way to escape only to realize that he can’t move his arm. Now, he’s terrified.
“Relax, cowboy.” Your voice coos from behind a computer, typing away at something as you're taking a tip from a glass. Presumably water. “I’m cooling ya off. You’re welcome... You should be able to move now.”
Boothill shoots up from his spot and rips off the cables that are attached to his left arm, head darting around to look for his gun. He hears a click and once again finds himself with a gun pressed up against his jaw.
“Lookin’ for this?”
The crosshair that replaces his once human pupils flit over to your direction, noticing that you were holding his revolver in your dominant hand. Boothill swears that you must like pointing a barrel in his direction for how many times this has been done. He also sees that you’re wearing his very cropped jacket over your usual attire. ... And you’re still wearing his hat.
“That’s mine, pretty boy.” The ranger gives you a half-assed growl as his censor kicks in once more, already getting annoyed at your sly behaviour, “Ya really got a knack for takin’ stuff that’s not yours, huh? No wonder yer a criminal.”
You giggle at his words, tossing his gun on the metal workbench, “It’s not loaded, neither is your little gun hand.” You tell him, like he was going to start unloading mags into your skin. Turning around, you walk back to your computer and open up a drawer on the desk it sits on, “Well?” You ask after a momentary silence, leaning on one of your legs as you crack open a bottle of whiskey and begin to pour it into your empty glass.
“‘Well’, what?” Boothill narrows his eyes at you, picking up his revolver and shoving it back into his thigh holster. He’ll just have to go to the nearest mechant and buy more bullets.
“Ain’t ya gonna, I don’t know, take yer hat back?” You ask him, taking a sip of the alcohol that gives a slight burn down your throat, “We’re in an enclosed space, barely any room t’move around, exit’s right behind ya ‘n all. Perfect chance t’arrest me, if I dare so say m’self.”
He blinks. There’s got to be some sort of trap if the setup is this perfect. He’s not going to make the same mistake he did before, not again. So, his sensors scan the room quickly, which leaves you unamused, and he sees that there are in fact no traps in this room. Boothill almost doesn’t want to believe it.
“Are ya playin’ some sort of game with me?” Boothill’s eyes begin to squint in suspicion, carefully trying to think of a situation you might pull that puts him on the losing end of the stick, “Yer jus’ gonna let yourself get arrested? Jus’ like that?”
“What? Ya don’t wanna do it? Too scared?” You taunt him again, causing the cowboy’s circuits to boil in animosity.
“Ya know what?” Boothill smiles a tense one, taking long, menacing steps in your direction, “I’ve ‘bout had it with your attitude, pretty boy. Seems like ya didn’t have anybody ta teach ya proper manners.” All of a sudden, you felt yourself being slammed up against the wall behind you with a grunt, Boothill’s right hand keeping your wrists together and his left hand tilting your chin up to look at him, his eyes glowing a dangerous red, “I mean, after that stunt ya pulled in yer lil’ base, it seems like ya wanna be caught by me.”
“Hah.. guilty as charged.” You laugh, attempting to keep your smooth facade up, only for it to crack once you could feel his metal knee nudge between your thighs. A whine rips through your throat as he keeps his knee still, not bothering to give you the pleasure you oh so wanted from the day you saw him.
“How ‘bout it, doll?” Boothill sneers at your pathetic expression, lips getting dangerously close to yours, “I can give ya a better punishment than jail could.”
One thing’s for sure: Boothill’s mechanical body does not have any built in... pleasure devices, he’s nearly as smooth as a doll. However, there is a slightly large bump on his pelvis in the shape of an oval that if you were to grind just right up against, you’ll-
“O-oh!”
Boothill’s lips curve up into a smirk as he sees you push down hard against his metallic form, trying to settle your trembles by wrapping your arms tightly around his neck to stabilize yourself. It’s cute, he thinks, seeing you all desperate for sexual relief. The way you hopelessly cling to him like he’s the last thing keeping you alive. He can’t believe he actually thought about putting you behind bars if getting you wrapped around his finger was this satisfying.
“How’s it feel, pretty boy?” Boothill whispers in your ear, causing a shiver to rack your spine as his grip adjusts to settle on your lower waist, pushing you even further against him, “Feel like yer gonna explode yet?”
Whimpering in response, your shaky fingertips grip onto his shoulders as your forehead now presses against his. Soft pants fill the room and Boothill can practically see the hearts in your eyes as your hips continue to move against his. You both still have your clothes on but this all still feels so intimate, probably better than actual penetration.
The ranger’s hand reaches up to tug his hat that still rests on your head, fixing it back from its tilted state, “Ya look like ya wanna kiss, doll.” He teases, bringing your chin closer to the point where your noses brushed up against one another.
“Pl-please..” You say breathily, gently tugging at his hair.
“Attaboy.” Boothill snickers in response, “Looks like yer finally learning.” His freakishly long tongue slithers past his lips as soon as they press against yours, slipping into your mouth as saliva begins to spill down your chin. Aeons, you’re just so cute.
Soft moans are swallowed up by Boothill’s greedy mouth, his thumb coming up to pull against your bottom lip before he pulls away and the only thing that connects your mouths is the thin trail of spit. His robotic thumb pushes into your mouth, pressing against your tongue as drool continues to spill down your pretty lips. He could get used to this.
He notices how much faster your hips move, calculating that you were close as whines and whimpers flood the room. The smile on Boothill’s face only widens even further, bumping his hips up to catch you off guard. He knows he succeeds when he hears a shaky squeak come from your mouth.
“What’s wrong, pretty boy? Ya gonna bust?” The ranger sneers, the thumb in your mouth shifting so he widens your lips by pushing at the sides, “Y’know, I could easily deny ya of that relief. Ya kinda deserve it for teasin’ me this whole time.”
You shake your head violently, already too close to be pulled away now. Boothill snickers in response, “No? What makes ya think you can tell me what to do?” A pleading look flashes across your features and Boothill has half the decency to make you beg for release. He decides to have mercy on you, though, “Mmmn, I mean, I guess ya have been pretty obedient. Go on and blow yer load f’me, pretty.”
With a shudder and a slight bite on Boothill’s metal thumb, your pants get soaked in your fluids, staining the fabric. Your hips jerk a couple of times to ride out your orgasm then you started slumping onto his chest in exhaustion. Boothill’s other hand rubs at your hip to soothe you, letting you rest in place to calm the trembles that still cause your body to twitch in overstimulation.
“Good boy.” He says softly, pulling his thumb out of your mouth, watching as it dripped since it was slick with your spit. Letting you catch your breath for a moment, he waits before he decides to ask, “So, what package were ya waitin’ for?”
“Baby stuff.” You sigh, face burying into Boothill’s neck, “My sister’s expecting ‘nd her wife’s been tellin’ me to get that stuff as soon as possible. The Luofu has been delaying their packages for a bit, somethin’ about shippin’ difficulties. Can’t believe ya’d remember something like that, though.”
The cowboy huffs in response, “Bein’ a cyborg’s got some perks. The only bad part is that ion got a dick to fuck ya with. Woulda been nice to see ya unable to walk for a few days.”
You sit up and give him a weird look, hands resting on his shoulders, “Ya do know strap-ons exist, right?” The way you said that made him feel much stupider, like you were pointing out the obvious to him.
“...Oh.” Boothill’s face flushes embarrassingly hot as his fans kick in once more.
Aeons, he hated you.
#x male reader#male reader#x bottom male reader#bottom male reader#hsr x male reader#hsr x reader#hsr boothill#boothill hsr#boothill honkai star rail#boothill x reader#boothill x male reader#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail x male reader
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country boy w/ mingi
thinking thoughts about country boy mingi who talks to you in a southern drawl as he leans his upper body on the bonnet of his truck. he’s so shameless with the way he looks you up and down, and you really don’t mind at all. in fact, you almost wish you could swap places with that stupid toothpick he keeps dangling from his pretty lips.
“don’t you think you ought to be getting home, doll?” he croons at you as you push yourself up to sit on the hood. the way your thighs spread against the red metal makes him salivate, but he’s a strong man. he can control himself, “i don’t think your daddy is my biggest fan; he wouldn’t appreciate you hanging around someone like me after sunset.”
as much as you hate to admit it, mingi is right; something about the farm boy from the neighbouring ranch just didn’t sit right with your daddy. maybe it’s his cocky way of speaking, or the rumours that get passed around town by all the pretty buckle bunnies who had their turn with him. the cowboy had built quite a reputation for himself, over the years. he likes to fuck and chuck; he’d rarely beds the same girl twice, and never more than three times. those brief encounters seem to be enough for most of the women you come across in the local bars—they do nothing but rave about how nonchalant and uncaring the cowboy is in bed. apparently, the way he fucks them hard and rough makes him all the more attractive.
yet he was never anything but soft with you. soft smiles, soft words, soft touches. just soft. if only your daddy could see the way he grins at you as he pulls the hat from his head and settles it atop yours, or the way his lithe fingers tighten the string around your chin to secure the hat in place. the deep chuckle that leaves him as the brim falls over your eyes goes straight to your chest, your heart beating unhealthily quick.
“my daddy doesn’t control me,” you push the brim up so you can see his pretty face. his skin is gorgeously tan from all those hours he spends in the field with his boss’s horses. you often watch him from your window, sketchbook in hand as you messily draw him over and over. he doesn’t look quite as good in graphite as he does through the glass of your bedroom window. seeing him like this, so close that you could touch him, is even better, “and i’m not ready to go home yet. besides, didn’t you promise me a ride on mr campbell’s prize pony?
he smiles and it shines brighter than the sun that’s taking its time in sinking below the horizon. his laugh puts the sound of morning birds to shame. his skin is smoother than your daddy’s whiskey, and his eyes sharper than his switchblade. nothing compares to him, you figure as you gaze into his deep hazelnut eyes; you could watch him and never hunger for anything else. you’d be sustained for life.
“sure i did, doll,” he takes the toothpick out and flicks it to the ground. you watch as it lands in the dirt by his dusty leather boots before letting your eyes drag themselves back up his body to reach his eyes. every part of him is just as pretty as the next and you find that the more you stare, the more you want to have him, “but it’s getting to be dark soon, and like i said, your daddy doesn’t approve of me. i’m not quite good enough for his little princess, am i?”
“i think you’re good enough for me,” you blurt out, heat immediately rising to your face as you take in what you’ve just said. humiliating yourself in front of the man you’ve been dreaming about for years is never good, especially not when you see the man almost every day. you look to the floor, cursing yourself as you hear mingi hum in amusement. it’s not for long, though. he catches your chin on one long finger, drawing your eyes back up to his.
“i’m sure you do, doll,” his voice is teasing, as is his lopsided grin. it sends a shiver down your spine as he taunts you, “precious little thing, thinking i don’t see the way you stare at me from your window. i see the hearts in your eyes, y’know. the way they turn green whenever you see me with one of those towny girls. it's cute; you’re cute.”
a huge hand comes to rest on your exposed thigh. you freeze in place, eyes on his, heart in your mouth. then his other hand meets with your other thigh and without any resistance from you, he parts them just enough to shuffle his body between them. you swallow down the knot in your throat as he invades your personal space.
“part of me wants to agree with your daddy; you’re too good for me, doll. you deserve someone better,” his face is too close to yours. you’re holding your breath as if you might blow him away if you were to exhale. his own fans across your face, the scent of mint and menthol filling your senses. suddenly, it’s your favourite smell in the world, “but then again, i tend to be possessive over things i consider to be mine… and i don’t think i could bear it if i were to see my doll hanging off another man’s arm, hm?”
he whispers that last bit, the slow drawl of his accent echoing through your brain, turning your thoughts to mush. you’re sure he can see the effect he’s having on you; the shallow rise and fall of your chest, your swollen lip from where your teeth continuously tug against it, your glazed-over, thoughtless eyes. you’re also sure that it’s only serving to encourage him.
still, even if mingi currently has your legs in a gelatinous state and your heart ticking like a time bomb, your daddy didn’t raise a pushover. a princess, yes, but never a pushover. one of your (extremely shaky) hands finds its way to his chest, pushing at the linen-clad muscles ever-so-gently until he stumbles just a few inches back. despite your eyes not being able to find his face, you know you can do this.
“well, what about you?” your voice is feeble. you clear your throat in the hopes of making it stronger, “you think i like watching you flirt with other women? to hear all those nasty stories about what goes down in the bed of your truck?” the more you talk, the more your courage builds. you look him in the eye, only to see he’s still smirking. that beautiful, infuriating smirk, “you’re not the only possessive one, mingi. if i’m yours, you’re mine—”
the next few seconds happen in a flash, but you can pick out three key events. first, he bullies his way between your thighs again, pushing them wide and pulling you close until his pelvis is flush against yours. then, with a determined hand, he rips the hat away from your head, slamming it down onto the hood of his truck and making you jump. there’s almost no time between that and the final event, though, as before you can say a single thing more, a pair of determined lips find your own.
they’re hot as they trap you in a kiss, moving quickly and sloppily against your own. he’s quick to take charge, fingers pressing deep into the flesh of your thighs as he moves his lips against yours. it’s like he’s been waiting for this for years, and now that he’s finally got it, he’s not willing to let it go. desperate, and hard and fast, it makes your head spin in the most delicious way. so much so, in fact, that you can’t help but wrap your arms around his neck to act as some sort of stability as you melt into his touch.
he pulls away for mere seconds, just enough for you to catch your breath, before diving in for more. this time, he leads with his tongue, bullying his way into your mouth as soon as his lips are on yours again. there’s no fight for dominance, the both of you already knowing that he’s the one in charge of this whole ordeal. you just let yourself sink into it, enjoying every second of him devouring your mouth.
all you can hear is moans mixed with the sound of lips smacking against lips. you can’t tell where your moans finish and his start, but perhaps it just goes to show how in sync the two of you really are.
he finally pulls away again, for good this time, and a heavy sigh falls from his lips, “i’ve always been yours, doll,” his wet lips meet your neck, and you tip your head back as a moan tumbles from your parted lips, “from the moment i met you, i was yours.”
“what about—”
“gossip spreads in a small town like this,” he cuts you off, “not everything you hear is true. you have a one-night stand to get over a girl once and suddenly you’ve slept your way through the whole town. honestly, i’m kind of glad the story focuses on how good i am in bed and not on the way i cried about you after i came…”
you can’t stifle the giggle that bubbles from your throat as he nuzzles against your neck.
“you cried about me?” you laugh.
“multiple times, doll,” he confirms, “what can i say, i’m a softie at heart.”
#ateez x reader#ateez fanfic#ateez oneshot#ateez scenarios#ateez fluff#ateez fic#mingi x reader#mingi fluff#mingi fanfic
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hiiiii this is a request for billy!!!
what about a smutty fic where reader is riding billy while wearing his hat!? 🤍🤍
the only reason why i didn’t make this anon is so i can get the notif if you reply 😭😭
ride [billy the kid x fem!reader]
[summary]: billy the kid x fem!reader | When at a party your father was throwing, you meet Billy, a cowboy that spikes your interest.
[warnings]: 18+ MDNI, teasing, pnv, fingering, language, other smut warnings yk, edited this at 2am
[wc]: 2.8k
[note]: thank you sm for the request!! y’all are creative
You hated it when your father threw parties at the ranch. They always got too crowded, too loud, and way too dangerous. You see, cowboys and alcohol weren't always the best mix. Groping hands and lustful stares always came along with it. Your father always wanted you to be present at his little gatherings, to socialize or whatnot.
You dreaded small talk with the other girls present and weren’t interested in any of the drunken cowboys that always made fools of themselves trying to woo you. You stood there, arms crossed, pressed against the wall. Observing. The air was thick with smoke, the smell filling your lungs causing your nose to scrunch slightly.
“How’s it goin’ lil lady?” A voice sounded from your right, causing you to wince. You could practically smell the whiskey of the man’s breath without even turning to face him. Deciding to be polite you directed your attention to the man. It was a blonde cowboy. He was about 5’8”, not insanely tall but not short either. He had an unsettling feeling about him that made you feel immediately uncomfortable.
You gave him a strained smile. “It’s going well.”
The cowboy gave you a drunken smile, leaning his shoulder against the wall limply. “I like yer dress, lace is my favorite. Why… ain't you just a doll.”
You kept your smile, your cheeks hurting with tension at the forced action. “Thank you.” You replied, giving a curt nod.
The man drew closer, making your chest pump with anxiety. You always hated when men thought they could invade your space just because you were a woman. You took a slight step back causing the man to let out a low chuckle.
“You nervous doll? I ain’t gonna hurt ya. You know if you’d follow me I know a nice place we can… well you know….” He slurred, drawing one of his hands up to touch one of the strands of hair cascading over your shoulders. You jolted back, immediately slamming into someone.
Firm hands placed themselves on your shoulders as you ran into whoever it was. You turned your head, looking up quickly. “I’m sor-“
Your eyes connected with the bluest eyes you'd ever seen. You hadn’t thought the phrase “taking your breath away” was true until this moment. You couldn’t breathe. The man before you was gorgeous. Soft brown curls peaked out from under his hat that he wore, framing the sharp angles of his face nicely. The light freckles on his face indicating he’d been in the sun.
“You ok?” He said in a low voice, snapping you out of your trance. You glanced at the blonde cowboy who was still staring at you as if you were a piece of meat. The brown haired cowboy cocked an eyebrow, noticing your discomfort and pleading eyes. He cleared his throat and stared at the blonde man.
“Were you botherin’ my lady?” He asked accusingly towards the man, stepping slightly in front of you. God he was tall.. he seemed to tower over you. The blonde cowboy’s face immediately paled.
“N-no I wa-“ He stuttered.
“No? Then get the fuck out of here.” The brown haired cowboy snapped.
The blonde cowboy gave an incoherent mumble before storming away. You released the breath you were holding in and looked up at the gorgeous man who had just helped you.
“Thank you. I hate talking to men like that.” You sighed. The man laughed. (which made you realize how perfect his lips were as well)
“Men like that?” He chuckled.
You nodded. “Always too drunk and grabby all the time. No respect for anyone’s space.” You made a face of disgust that made the man before you flash another lopsided grin.
“Well.. anytime.” He gave you a smile “What’s your name?” The man asked, leaning up against the wall and crossing his arms. He stepped back, respectfully giving you room to talk. The action alone made your heart thump as your eyes trailed up his body. Even through his shirt you could tell he had some muscle to him.
“Oh- Uhm.. Y/n. Y/n Charles.” You nodded.
The man’s eyes widened. “Oh so this is your ranch? Your father’s always throwin’ parties like this huh?”
You gave him a weak smile. “Yep.. fun right?” You said sarcastically.
He let out another chuckle before looking at you again.
“Billy.” He said lowly, slightly bowing his head.
You tilted your head. Where had you heard that name before? You tried to jog your memory but it was no use. Maybe you had heard your father talking about him, or maybe some girls down at the salon.
“Billy..” You repeated, smiling up at him. “I like it.”
Billy chuckled. “Glad you like it.”
It was weird talking with Billy. You felt a bubble of desire in your stomach that you had never felt when talking to any other man. Now all of a sudden you were imagining his hands on your body, his lips on yours. You thought of his hair, wondering how it would feel if you’d drag your fingers through it.
You stared up at him, and he stared back. It wasn’t awkward, no, it was almost as if you both had an understanding. An understanding of mutual attraction. Billy wet his lips.
He leaned a bit closer, his scent filling your nose. “I know we just met but… your intrestin’ to me.” He said in a low voice.
A small smile pulled at your mouth. “I could say the same…”
Billy leaned in even closer, breath brushing the outside of your ear gently as he spoke. “We could go to your room.. get to know each other better?” His voice was rough, full of unsaid desires that made your heart palpate.
“Are you implying something a lady should be ashamed to talk about?” You teased in a whisper. Billy let out a low chuckle.
“Is that where your mind is at?” He taunted, meeting your gaze. You reached up your fingers and dragged them against the brim of his hat.
“Would it be bad if it was?” You smiled, cocking your head slightly. Billy smirked. He liked how playful you were being.
Billy’s hand found yours and he squeezed it gently, pulling you closer to him. “No… It wouldn’t.” He murmured, making your breath quicken.
You made a little tsk sound and pulled away from him. “You think I’m that easy?” You chuckled. “Nice try cowboy.” You cooed, tapping the tip of his nose playfully. Billy’s eyes widened briefly before his mouth pulled into a smirk.
“Your decision darlin’… See ya, gorgeous.” He tipped his hat then turned to walk away. You watched as he sauntered back into the crowds of people. You bit your lip as your mind replayed the interaction you just had with him. He had called you gorgeous. You couldn’t deny the fact that you found him insanely attractive- perfect even. Why were you playing hard to get? You weren’t sure why.
You continued to roam about the party, talking mindlessly with the ladies there. You tried your hardest to stay engaged in the conversations but your thoughts were still on Billy. Would it be so bad to fool around with him? Even if it was just for tonight? You couldn’t ignore the pulsing feeling in your core when you thought about it. Fuck it.
You excused yourself from whatever and whoever you were talking about quickly and started to glance around for Billy. It was still insanely crowded in the house, causing you to have to constantly say “excuse me” just to get anywhere. You searched the living room for his blue eyes but he wasn’t there. You felt a pang of fear that he had just decided to leave.
Gracefully, you slipped out of the living room and started to make your way down one of the dark hallways of your home. It was empty. The loud clamoring of the party was still heard as you walked, heels clicking on the creaking floorboards.
The bathroom door was also in this hall. You heard it open and turned. There he was.
“Billy-“ You said breathlessly. Billy’s mouth quirked up into a smirk.
“Y/n. Nice to see you again.” He joked.
You walked closer to him, tilting your head up to make eye contact. “Do you want to….”
“Yes.” He replied roughly, cutting you off before you could even finish. He grabbed your hand and led you down the hall and up the stairs, causing you to let out a little chuckle.
Once reaching the top of the stairs, you led the way, guiding him to your bedroom door. You opened it quickly. Billy was the first to step inside, pulling you in after him and immediately shutting the door. He looked around for a moment, taking note of what kind of girl you were. Your bed was made, the room tidy, and flower patterns on almost anything.
“Like it?” You teased, meeting his piercing gaze. He chuckled.
“Darlin’ do you have the key for the lock?”
You nodded quickly, striding over to your beside table to dig for the key in one of the drawers. Once found, you hurriedly locked the door with a simple click.
Upon hearing the sound Billy instantly grabbed your hips and pushed you up against the door. You dropped the key onto the ground, not caring where it ended up. You just wanted Billy right now.
You felt Billy’s bulge pressed into you, making you gasp. By no means were you a virgin- but you weren’t used to this.
“Fuck doll…” Billy rasped. “I don’t know how respectable I can be to you right now..” His grip on your hips tightened. Billy was restraining himself. Even though all he wanted to do right now was to tear off every piece of lacy cloth you were wearing he was holding himself back. You snaked your hands up to place themselves on his shoulders.
“Don’t hold back- I’m all yours tonight.” Before you could even get the last word out, his lips were on yours. The reassurance was helpful, making Billy feel as if you really wanted this. Which you did. Desperately.
Billy’s lips worked against yours with a roughness you’d never known you’d liked. One of his hands wrapped around your neck, pulling you flush against his lips even more. He tasted sweet, the softness of his mouth making you almost melt into him.
He still had his hat on- which you didn’t mind, you liked it. You soon felt his fingers leave your hips and neck and trail down and move to your back, where the laces of your corset were. His hands moved quickly, untying it with ease. You lifted your arms up and broke the kiss as he pulled it off of you and threw it to the side.
His hands then pulled at your dress as you took his lips back onto yours, unbuttoning and buttons needed and letting it slip off your shoulders and onto the floor. He parted from your lips to look down at the lacy cami and cloth shorts you were left in.
“Darlin’ you're just too much.” He groaned, his hands cupping your ass.
You smirked up at him and moved your hand to slide down one of his suspenders. “Let me see you.”
He complied instantly and started to tear off his clothes. When he lifted his shirt you could help but gasp. He was toned, muscled, scarred, perfect. He threw his shirt to the side and you reached a hand to trace a faint scar on his abdomen.
“Knife fight.” He said softly as he unzipped his pants, loving how curious you were. Your hands felt soft on his body, so gentle.
Your eyes flicked up to his. “You're perfect.” Billy chuckled at this, pulling your body closer to his as his pants fell to the ground.
“You're one to talk. I’ve ain’t never seen anyone as gorgeous as ya..” He reached up to take off his hat, but before he could throw it aside you grabbed it.
“Darlin what-?”
“Shh….” You coaxed, grabbing his hand and leading him to the bed. You pushed him gently to sit, and he immediately complied, liking this side of you. You put on the hat with a giggle and shimmied out of your cotton shorts. Billy’s cock twitched in his underwear at the sight. It felt like you were torturing him, depriving him of the touch he starved for.
Next you slid off your cami, letting your breasts sit nicely on your figure, throwing that to the side as well. You stepped forward and bent down slightly to place a palm on Billy’s bulge. He immediately let out a pained moan. “Your tourturin’ me doll.”
You giggled as you ran your other hand down his shoulder. “I could go even slower.” You teased.
Then unexpectedly Billy grabbed your hips and pulled you onto him, causing your let out a yelp of surprise. Billy immediately places his lips on one of your nipples, kissing and swirling his tongue around the area.
“No fair.” You gasped. His hands ran all over your body, as well as his lips.
Billy let out a chuckle, the voice sending a vibrating feeling through your body. “Another second and I would’ve gone crazy darlin’.”
You melted under his touch, his calloused fingertips adding to the realness of his hands. You pulled your fingers through his hair as he kissed your collarbones.
“I need more.” You whined.
Billy smirked. “And to think you had brushed me off the first time I offered this to you down stairs…..”
“Please-“ You begged again. Billy cupped your ass in response to lift you off of his lap so he could yank down the only fabric of his boxers separating him from your cunt.
You looked down at his cock as you straddled him. It was big, you’d never seen one this big before. You bit your lip, Billy squeezed your hips and kissed your jaw.
“Ready darlin’…” He mumbled against your skin. You nodded and he lifted you up, positioning your body over his throbbing cock. You sunk down letting out a strained moan as he filled you up. You were now sitting entirely on him, stretching out the walls of your soaked cunt.
“Take me s’good.” Billy rasped as you started to grind your hips. One of your hands flew up to hold Billy’s hat that still was placed snug on your head. You were so wet he slid right in, no issue. You slowly began to move up and down with Billy assisting you by lifting your hips.
You tilted your head back, squeezing your eyes shut, still keeping the hat on your head. Breathy moans escaped your lips as you moved. Billy picked up the pace, slamming you harder down onto his cock rhythmically.
“Fuck-“ You whimpered as he let out a groan.
“Ride me so good..” He mumbled. His own head was limp as he moved you faster and faster on his cock. Right now you were perfect. So tight. Molded perfectly for him. Your free hand dug into his shoulder. The nail marks left on him would be deep by the end of this.
You rode him harder as tears prickled in your eyes. Every time he slammed into you your body vibrates with pleasure. The tip of his cock hitting your g-spot with precision.
Billy took one of his hands off your hips and moved it to start massaging circles on your clit, adding to the pleasure. You paused your moment for a moment, not expecting the added stimulation. You head slumped onto Billy’s shoulder, body shaking.
You felt Billy’s mouth brush against your ear. "C' mon darlin’.. I’m almost there… You're doing so well.” He praised.
You gave a weak nod and started to move again, a throaty moan escaping Billy’s lips. With his fingers on your clit and his cock slamming your walls you were in heaven.
“Almost there doll.” He groaned again, kissing your neck as you moved on him, your stamina decreasing by the second. You felt the knot in your stomach tighten, a sign that you were getting closer.
“Billy-“ You breathed, arching your back, holding his hat still firm on your head.
“I know darlin’, I know..” He murmured as he closed his eyes and let his mouth fall open. You watched as he came, filling your already overstimulated cunt with his cum. Your orgasm hit you as well, sending your body into a fit of shakiness.
You became still, his cock still throbbing with pleasure as you clung to him, your bodies slick with sweat. Billy brushed some of your hair from your forehead and kissed it.
“I like how you kept my hat on.” Billy smirked, looking down at you. “Suits ya.”
You let out a breathless chuckle. “Thank you.”
You tilted your head up to kiss his soft lips. He seemed so tender now, so gentle.
Finally after a while of kissing you slid off of him, cum dripping down your thighs.
“When can I see you again Y/n?” He drawled, holding your waist so you were still close to him.
“Anytime you want to get your hat back.” You teased.
Billy’s eyebrows raised with amusement. “You keepin’ it?”
You kissed his nose. “It’s mine now.”
#billy bonney x reader#billy the kid x you#billythekidxreader#billy the kid smut#billy the kid x reader#billy the kid fanfiction#billy the kid imagine#billy bonney#billy the kid#william h bonney x reader#tom blyth x fem!reader#tom blyth one shot#tom blyth fic#tom blyth x you#tom blyth fanfiction#tom blyth imagine#tom blyth x reader#tom blyth#cowboy#cowboy romance
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I'm taking a break from my regularly scheduled WIP to bring you this Scoops Ahoy AU one-shot. It's a long one.
Eddie was about to enter Scoops Ahoy when he saw Steve in front of the counter, his back to him. He was in full uniform, hat on top and all. He was practicing drawing his scoop like he was a cowboy. Eddie's eyes wondered over his backside, giggling at Steve being a dork, and his heart was beating rapidly. Yeah, he liked that a lot, especially the legs attached to the ass. Steve twirled around and smiled at Eddie. He drew his scoop and pretended to shoot him. Eddie clutched his chest and dropped to the floor. He heard Steve’s laughter ring out, and it was the best thing in the world. Shit. He liked Steve Harrington. Eddie jumped up and took off, barely listening to Steve screaming behind him.
"It was just an ice cream scoop!"
Eddie ran all the way out into the parking lot and jumped into his van. He turned it on and thought about where he wanted to go, and then he cursed. Shit, he was supposed to meet Jeff here for a movie. He turned off his van and jumped when someone knocked on his window. He yelped when he saw that it was Steve Harrington. Eddie looked at him wearily before rolling down his window.
"Making special deliveries now, Cap?" Eddie asked, hoping he was actually as calm as he thought he was being.
"Only for people who drop their wallets," Steve grinned, holding up his wallet.
Eddie squeaked and went to grab it, but Steve pulled it back with a grin.
"Never took you for a bully, Harrington," Eddie smirked.
"Seriously?" Steve asked.
"Yeah, a little bitchy? Yes. Bully? No. Not even you would do that. Too busy hiding secrets in that hair of yours," he said, his eyes twinkling.
"Oh. And what secrets are hiding in your hair, Munson?" Steve asked, leaning on the frame.
Eddie trailed his fingers across Steve’s arm. Shit, was he really flirting with him?
"How about you climb into the back of my van and find out?" Eddie asked.
He surprised both of them with that question. He didn't think that he would be so forward. Steve grinned.
"Okay, but I only have fifteen minutes," Steve said he set his watch.
Steve started walking around to the other side, and Eddie quickly scrambled into the back. He flopped onto his back and onto the blanket he kept in the van. Steve opened the door, crawled into the van, and closed the door behind him, lying down beside Eddie.
"So, I have to ask," Steve said, leaning on his elbow. "Why did you run away when I shot you with my ice cream scoop?"
"Uh, there was a bee. A really big bee," Eddie said.
"A big bee, huh?" Steve asked.
"Yeah. I, uh, I really didn't think I ever liked bees before, but I saw this bee, and it was actually kind of cute. A cute dorky bee," Eddie said. "It scared me how much I liked this bee."
"So, was this bee blue, white, and red?" Steve grinned.
"Hmm, you cracked my code," Eddie said. "Damn."
"So is it the fact that I'm a jock or the fact that I'm a guy?" He asked.
"I've always liked women, and I never even questioned it even when other people assumed it about me," Eddie said. "And they always did."
"Funny, people always assumed I was straight even though I wanted them to think otherwise," Steve said.
"I'm obvious. You're not," Eddie grinned.
Steve laughed and placed his hand on his chest, dragging his nails gently across his chest.
"So, you really didn't think I was an asshole in high school?" Steve asked.
"No, mostly because I know how much you tried to stop the basketball players from beating the shit out of us," Eddie said. "Even Tommy Hagan was harmless. He was all talk and too much of a chicken shit to actually do anything about it. Plus, Gareth told me all about how you once stopped Tommy Hayes from beating the shit out of him."
"I fucking hate that guy, him and Jason Carver both. I tried to go to Principal Higgins about it, but he seemed like he was really out to get you. I don't what the fuck that guy's problem with you is but I kind of wanted to kick his ass," Steve scoffed.
"There's a picture," Eddie grinned. "So, did you always know you liked guys? I mean, I should have known at some point, right?"
"I don't think that you can put an exact time frame on something like this, especially since it's different for everyone. I was reading a parenting book, and it suggested that you shouldn't compare your child with other children because they grow and develop at like different rates," Steve said. "I figure that probably works the same with sexuality too."
"Why were you reading a parenting book?" Eddie asked.
"Oh, these kids that I babysit have been having nightmares, and I've been trying to figure out the best way to help them," Steve said.
Eddie pinned him down and climbed on top of him. Steve looked at him in surprise.
"You're the fucking cutest," Eddie said.
He leaned down and kissed him. Eddie mewed softly against his mouth when Steve kissed him back and grabbed the back of his head. His other hand was pressed against Eddie's lower back. Eddie kissed him roughly, rocking his hips against his. He liked the feeling of Steve’s lips against his and the way his hands felt in his hair. He definitely liked the way his hand felt against his backside. His entire body was buzzing. Eddie reached behind him to grab Steve’s hand and moved it so it was cupping his butt. Steve chuckled against his mouth. Suddenly, the van door flew open, causing them to break the kiss. Jeff stood there, staring at the scene with wide eyes.
"Hey, man," Eddie said casually as he continued to straddle Steve Harrington.
He couldn't explain this one away, considering Steve’s hand was on his ass.
"What?!" Jeff exclaimed.
"This is exactly what it looks like," Eddie said.
"I didn't know that you were into guys," Jeff said, looking at them both.
"Is this going to be a problem?" Steve asked with wide eyes, and Jeff laughed.
"No, man, I'm gay," Jeff said, and Steve breathed a sigh of relief.
"You didn't know I was into guys?" Eddie asked with a scoff. "I didn't know I was into guys."
"So, new discovery then?" Jeff asked, and Eddie nodded. "Want me to close the door?"
Jeff wiggled his eyebrows at Eddie. He was about to reply when Steve’s watch went off. Eddie frowned.
"Damn it!" Steve cursed. "I have to get back to work."
"We were making out longer than we thought," Eddie said with grin. "Can we do this again?"
"Yeah, you got a pen?" Steve asked.
Eddie dove towards the front of his van, grabbing a pen out of a cup holder. Steve whistled at his ass and Eddie cackled as he turned around, handing Steve the pen. Steve grabbed his arm and began writing numbers into Eddie's skin. Once he was finished, he bent down and blew on the ink to let it dry, looking directly at Eddie while he did it. Eddie shuddered as his breath hit his skin.
"Call me," Steve winked and hopped out of the van. "See you . . .?"
"Jeff," he replied.
"Jeff," Steve said, nodding at him and walking off.
"Wait, my wallet!" Eddie exclaimed.
"Check your back pocket!" Steve yelled.
Eddie frowned and checked his back pocket. Sure enough, his wallet was there.
"You sexy magician," Eddie muttered.
"Dude, that thing with the number was insanely hot," Jeff said. "Are you going to be able to concentrate on the movie?"
"I'm going to do something to screw this up. I know it!" Eddie exclaimed and buried his head into the blanket.
A couple of weeks later, and so far, Eddie hadn't screwed anything up. It was going well for him and Steve. He had called Steve that very same night, and they had talked for an hour before agreeing to meet at Steve's house for their first date. The asshole had cooked him dinner and everything. Eddie had insisted on cleaning the dishes with Steve, which had turned into them splashing soapy water at each other. After that, they sprawled onto the couch to watch TV, which had turned into a heavy makeout session that had Eddie losing his shirt and Steve nibbling on his tattoos. According to Steve, they're hot. Now, here he was bouncing into Scoops Ahoy to visit Steve. Steve’s co-worker, Robin, rolled her eyes at him.
"Hey, Stevie, is it your breaktime yet?" Eddie grinned.
"Yes, and for the love of God, do your little drug deal in the storage closet," Robin said. "If you must."
Steve grinned as he pulled Eddie into the break room and then into the storage closet, turning the lock.
"She thinks I'm selling you drugs," Eddie laughed as Steve pushed him up against the wall.
"Yeah, I got you something," Steve smiled and started digging around in his pockets.
"Yeah, you do," Eddie wiggled his eyebrows.
"No, not that," Steve snorted. "Although, maybe later if you're a good boy. Here."
He pulled a bumblebee pin out of his pocket. Eddie grinned and took it, an overwhelming wave or affection for the guy in front of him. He quickly added it to the pins on his vest.
"Thanks, Stevie," Eddie said and kissed him softly before cooing at him. "Sweet boy."
Steve blushed as he fiddled with the pin on his vest.
"I was hoping to ask you a question, and I'd get if you don't want to or if you want to keep thing the way they are but - ," Steve said.
"Will you be my boyfriend?" Eddie blurted out.
"Yeah!" He exclaimed, his eyes bright. "That's what I was going to ask you."
"You should know that I've never wanted to be someone's boyfriend before, not until you came along," Eddie said. "I don't know even know how to be a boyfriend."
"We'll figure it out together," Steve grinned.
Eddie kissed him, pulling his body close to his as he wrapped his arms around his neck. Steve smiled against his lips, slipping his tongue into his mouth. Suddenly, the door opened, and Robin burst in.
"I need help - Shit!" Robin exclaimed.
"I, uh, lost something," Eddie said.
"What? Did you lose your keys in his mouth?" Robin asked.
"I might have," Eddie scowled.
"And you searched for them with your tongue?" She asked.
"It's really good search method," he said.
"Try again," she said.
"He really wanted a discount," Eddie said.
"Hm, that's a little more believable," Robin said.
"Steve," Eddie whined.
"Relax, Munson, I'm a lesbian," Robin said.
"Really?" Eddie and Steve grinned.
"Yeah, I hate to pull you away from your boyfriend, but there are a lot of customers now, and I need help," Robin said softly. "Oh, did you know that the lock on this door is broken?"
"I do now," Steve replied.
"Nice bee pin, Munson," Robin said.
"Thanks, my new boyfriend gave it to me," he said, batting his eyelashes at Steve.
"That's cute," Robin said. "He pinned you."
"I know! We're sooo going steady. I'm hoping he'll give me his letterman and takes me to the sock hop," Eddie squealed, batting his eyelashes again.
"Okay," Steve rolled his eyes and pushed them out of the closet. "You two are not becoming friends."
"We're all becoming friends, Harrington," Robin replied.
"Oh. Well, that's okay then," Steve said softly.
And friends the three of them did become. Eddie even invited them to see their band play at the Hideout. They had both enjoyed it immensely to his delight. Robin and Jeff had hit it off, most likely laughing about Eddie and Steve. Eddie didn't think that Steve would pull him into the bathroom and get on his knees for him. He didn't think he was that good, but Steve, apparently, thought differently. Steve had been a big hit with all of his friends, especially when he remembered Gareth by making note of the fact that he didn't have his braces anymore. The only thing left to do was introduce Steve to his uncle. Coming out to Wayne had been easy because it didn't change anything between them like he thought it would.
"You're my nephew, and I'm still your uncle. If I didn't give up on you when you robbed that truck full of weed, then there is nothing you can do or be that's gonna scare me off, son," Wayne said.
Now, here they were, waiting for Steve to arrive. He should have been here by now. Eddie was pacing the floor of the living room, his stomach in knots.
"Relax, son, he's going to be here," Wayne said.
"I feel like something is wrong. Something is seriously wrong," Eddie frowned.
Suddenly, there was a loud mechanical roaring sound like the sound of a helicopter. Eddie and Wayne walked outside to find several military looking helicopters flying overhead. Eddie quickly scrambled on top of the trailer to see where they were flying. Eddie blanched when he saw the smoke, and he quickly scrambled back down.
"What?" Wayne asked.
"There's smoke coming from Starcourt," Eddie said. "Steve works there. I need to go!"
"We're both going, and I'll drive," Wayne said, clapping a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"I knew it, I knew it," Eddie kept muttering as they drove.
When they pulled up to Starcourt, they found a military blockade in front of the mall. They were denied entry as soon as they walked up. Wayne pulled him aside.
"I'll distract them. You go find your boy," he said.
Eddie looked at him doubtfully for a moment before Wayne started yelling at the guards. Eddie took the opportunity to run past them.
"STEVE! STEVE?!" Eddie shrieked as he fought through people's arms.
He was full on sobbing, his eyes blurry with tears. He didn't notice until he ran into Hopper.
"Munson, what the hell are you doing here?" Hopper asked.
"I'm looking for Steve. Is he okay? He's not - tell me he's not - " Eddie started to babble.
"EDDIE?!" Steve’s voice sounded from across the parking lot.
Eddie let out a strangled sob and ran across the parking lot. He threw his arms around Steve’s neck, hugging him tightly. Steve was stunned for a moment, but he soon wrapped his arms around Eddie, hugging him back just as tightly. Eddie pulled back slightly, but not out of his arms.
"Oh my God, baby, what happened to your face?" Eddie asked and then sighed. "It's okay. You don't have to talk about it right now. I'm just glad you're okay."
"Steve. . .who is this guy, and why did he just call you baby?" A curly haired boy in a hat asked.
"This must be Dustin," Eddie grinned.
"Oh, you talked about me?" Dustin asked with a grin.
"Dustin, this is Eddie Munson," Steve rolled his eyes.
"Oh! He's the friend you wouldn't shut up about," Dustin said.
"You wouldn't shut up about little old me?" Eddie batted his eyelashes at him and paused. "You can tell your kids, I don't mind."
"Eddie's my boyfriend," Steve said.
"Boyfriend?!" Dustin and the kids exclaimed.
"Eddie, the redhead is Max Mayfield, El Hopper, Lucas Sinclair, Mike Wheeler, and this is - "
"Will, right?" Eddie asked.
"Oh my God! You're the guy from the music store!" Will exclaimed excitedly.
"Huh?" Steve asked.
"Mom! It's that guy from the music store that I told you about!" Will said excitedly. "The one who took the baseball for me!"
A short woman with brown hair and brown eyes came wondering over.
"You're the one who did that for my boy?" She asked.
"Yeah," Eddie said.
"Thank you. I'm Joyce Byers, by the way," she said and hugged him tightly. "Did I just hear you're Steve’s boyfriend?"
"Yes," he said.
"Oh, that's so great. I'm happy for you, Steve. He sounds like a great guy," Joyce said. "You guys are cute."
"Thanks, Joyce," Steve smiled.
"I didn't know you were gay, Steve," Mike said, not unkindly.
"We're bisexual," Steve and Eddie said in unison.
"We like both," Eddie explained when some of them looked confused.
"You can do that?!" Lucas exclaimed.
"Yes, idiot," Max said. "I think it's so cool that you're both bisexual."
"We think so too," Steve said.
He felt Steve leaning against him, and he looked over at him in concern.
"I'm going to get this one to a hospital," Eddie said.
Robin parted her way through the kids and stood on Steve’s other side.
"I'm going with you," Robin said.
"I don't need to go to the hospital," Steve said.
"Yes, dingus, you do," Robin said.
"I'm not taking no for an answer, sweetheart," Eddie said.
"Okay," Steve said as Eddie slipped an arm around his waist.
His uncle was waiting by the van, and he grimaced at the sight of Steve.
"You okay, son?" Wayne asked.
"He will be once he gets to the hospital," Eddie said.
"You must be Wayne. I'm glad to finally meet you. Wish it was under better circumstances, though," Steve said.
"Me too, son," Wayne said and helped Eddie get him into the van.
Robin climbed up front while Eddie climbed in the back with Steve. He pulled him into his arms as Wayne drove off.
"You scared the hell out of me," Eddie whispered.
"Sorry," Steve replied.
"Nothing to apologize for," Eddie said. "I'm glad you're here."
"Me too," Steve said.
"Steve - I, uh, - " Eddie said nervously.
"Yeah?" Steve asked.
"I love you," Eddie whispered.
Steve picked his head up and gazed at him. It was true. He loved him. This time, he wasn't going to run away or sabotage it. The only direction he wanted to run to was towards Steve.
"I love you too," Steve said.
Suddenly, there came a loud sniffle from up front.
"Uncle Wayne, are you crying?" Eddie asked.
"No!" Wayne exclaimed, and Eddie cackled. "Shut up, boy!"
Eddie threw his head back and laughed. His life was complete.
#stranger things#stranger things s4#eddie munson#joseph quinn#eddie stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson lives#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington x eddie munson#steddie fanfiction
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𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒.
DAY SEVEN OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN
prompt: cosmic horror au + western au + "you're a fucking nightmare. kiss me."
pairing: jack daniels x f!reader
genre: explicit smut, minors dni, soft enemies to lovers
summary: with celestial dancers ensnaring victims with entrancing performances that lead innocents away from their homes. Jack and you, cowboy sheriffs with a history of discord, leave town in search of the missing people.
word count: 3.5k
warnings: daddy kink, mirror sex (kinda there's a mist that imitates your desires and copies your movements so technically it's like a mirror but without a reflective surface), outdoor sex, piv, hint of horror imagery, dirty talk, size kink (jack is a big boy in every universe fight me)
a/n: sorry y'all this is unedited but hopefully i didn't make too many mistakes! enjoy xx
“I still don’t understand why we need to go together. I’m completely capable on my own.”
On cue, Starlight whinnies and shakes her head, her disagreement apparent. You frown at the horse, “You’re supposed to be on my side,” you quip, refusing to look at Jack whose laughter rings out.
The lanterns you have on each horse illuminate the road ahead but do little in actually illuminating your surroundings. Shadows linger in every corner. The sky, despite still having the sun up, is a dusty copper, dark clouds swirling and forming shape of all watching eyes. The world had become an odd place. Humans were mere ants now, easy to crush beneath the forces out of your control. Distance between towns had become wide, each town having deputies to protect the innocents within. Dangerous weapons had been forged to fight against the evil and given to every sherrif in town.
Lately people have been gone missing. In the dead of night celestial dancers would just stand at the edge of town, ensnaring victims with entrancing performances to take them far away from their homes. You didn’t ask what these dancers did to the ones they captured, you assumed it wasn’t anything pleasant.
You and Jack being the more talented sheriffs of the town had been picked to locate said missing people. The further you two traversed away from town, the more menacing and confusing the world around you became. The darkness moves. Creatures of all kinds snarling and drooling within the deep forests.
“I know you’re capable, sugar,” Jack remarks, he expertly guides his horse, bringing the two of you into closer proximity. The rhythmic sound of hooves fills the air as you draw near. “But you must admit, this is a dangerous job.”
You only shrug, “Beats being here with you.”
“You hate me that much that you’d be willin’ to die?” he says with a lazy grin. “That’s a bit extreme, even for you.”
“I doubt this is going to be that hard. You just like teasing me.”
“Hmmm maybe. . . but I blame you for that, sugar. You’re too fun to tease.”
A loud sigh parts your lips and you shake your head. Jack was and always will be insufferable. In all honesty, Jack wasn’t so bad. He just had a talent for getting under your skin. But you had to admit, your frustrations with him had been shifting into something else, something like desire, for a while now.
Your fingers tighten around the reins. You’ve been trying really hard to ignore the flutter in your stomach whenever he was around, you’d never hear the end of it if he figured it out.
“Shut up,” you grumble, lowering the front of your hat. “You’re incorrigible.” You glance over at Jack, who's trying to stifle his laughter but failing miserably. Your frown deepens.
“Incorrigible?” he snorts. “So sophisticated with your insults today, should I be flattered?”
“I’m just running out of words to insult you with.”
His smile falters slightly, annoyance creasing between his brows, “Funny.”
Jack’s annoyance brings a smile to your face. You’re about to say more, eager to get under his skin just like he does yours, but suddenly he lifts a hand and halts his horse. You do the same, tightening the reins until Starlight comes to a full stop.
He presses his forefinger slowly to his lips and points ahead with the other. Goosebumps raising across your skin, your gaze turns to the dirt road.
There’s nothing.
Until there’s something.
The first thing you notice is the eyes; they’re red dots, gleaming and staring into your soul.
Then you notice the antlers sprouting from behind the skull of the long figure. Two of them curling around its jaw. It's wearing a long cloak, the type similar to what you and Jack wear when the weather is turning cold. The light of your lanterns reflects on the figure,
Panic flaring in your gut, your eyes snap to Jack. He’s only staring. Calm and steady. “Look down,” he mouths without looking at you.
The silence is deafening. You look at the eerie figure again, its hand now stretched towards you both as if beckoning you to come closer. It’s a bony hand, a sickly grayish-green. You hold your breath and lower your gaze. Your lids flutter in surprise as you notice the sheep at the figure's feet. They have horns just like him, and have the same glowing red eyes. The animals stare at you, not a sound coming from them.
Shepard of the Voidborne, your mind whispers to you. You were told that he was once human and after being driven out of his mind, became one of the cosmic horrors that lurked all around. He had his sheep and that was pretty much it. He only came out during the night. The shepard was harmless for the most part but if you made a sound or attacked, your death was immediate.
The tricky part was that you had to sense him before he came. You had to catch the stillness of the wind, the sudden silence that befell, and the scent of the dead.
You didn’t notice any of that.
But Jack had.
The Shepard and his sheep stare at you long enough that it feels like forever. He never lowers his hand, the invite always there if you were stupid enough to take it.
You fight against letting out a breath of relief when he finally turns away, the sheep mimicking him. Fear coating your tongue, you close your eyes and focus on your heartbeat instead, willing it to become silent.
He doesn’t make a sound as he leaves and you only realize that when Jack gently touches your cheek, pulling you back to reality.
“He’s gone, darlin’,” he says surprisingly soft. “You’re safe.”
His fingers curl towards the back of your ear, palm cradling the side of your face, warmth spreads. Your breath hitches and you quickly avert your gaze, “I see that,” you say sharply. “Let’s go.”
“Lead the way, ma’am,” Jack muses as you do exactly that, his gaze glinting with mischief.
You try not to think about the lingering warmth left on your cheek.
The horses are tethered nearby, and the lanterns cast a warm glow around your small circle of safety. You set up a modest fire, its crackling flames pushing back the encroaching darkness.
Jack produces a bottle of whiskey from his saddlebag. He uncorks it and offers it to you with a grin. "Care for a drink, sugar? I figure we've earned."
You accept the offer, taking the bottle and taking a long, deep swig before passing it back. The warm burn of the whiskey helps chase away the lingering chill of fear from your encounter with the Shepard.
Jack settles down beside you, close enough that your shoulders brush. He gazes into the flames, lost in thought for a moment. Then, he turns his attention to you, his eyes softening with concern. "You okay, sugar?"
“I guess,” you mutter. “I didn’t notice him.”
“Who? The Shepard?”
You nod and he shrugs, “He’s a hard bastard to notice. It ain’t your fault.”
“That’s not an excuse. I should’ve sensed him. . . somehow.”
He chuckles softly, his fingers idly tracing patterns in the dirt. "Well, you know, I've got the devil's luck. Besides, I've got you to watch my back. When I’m with you I’m more alert, darlin’."
“So you really do think I’m incompetent?”
Sitting by the fire, you both share the bottle, taking turns. You can't help but notice how the flickering firelight plays across Jack's features, casting his rugged face in a warm, inviting glow. You feel slightly ashamed for how you’re acting. Deep down you know this has nothing to do with Jack thinking you’re not good enough, but with the growing knot in your stomach, you need to divert your emotions into something more violent.
“The only thing I know is that I wanna protect you more than I want to do myself.”
Your heart skips a beat, your breath suddenly coming in short and fast. You swallow around the knot quickly forming in your throat.
"Well, aren't you just a regular knight in shining armor?" you huff in mock annoyance, attempting to lighten the weight of his words.
But Jack doesn't take the bait this time. Instead, he surprises you with a genuine, soft smile. "You're strong, no doubt about it. But even the strongest folks deserve a bit of pampering now and then, don't they?"
You're momentarily taken aback by his sincerity, the hint of vulnerability. Jack reaches out and gently brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch feather-light.
"Jack, you don't have to treat me like I'm made of glass," you murmur, your irritation fading as you meet his warm gaze.
He leans in a little closer, his voice barely above a whisper. Your eyes drop to his lips and move back to meet his gaze again."I know you're tough as nails, but that doesn't mean I can't be here for you. We all need someone to lean on, sugar."
You find yourself lost in his eyes, the flickering firelight dancing in them, and for a moment, you let your guard down.
"You're a fucking nightmare,” you smile, heart rapid in your chest. “Kiss me."
The chaos, the darkness, the shadows—all of it stands still. Jack closes the distance, soft lips covering yours, his tongue traces the seam of your lips. He’s not at all how you imagined. He’s not rushing you. Instead, he’s taking his sweet time memorizing the curve of your lips with the tip of his tongue.
Only when you moan does he slip his tongue between your swollen lips, licking himself further into your mouth. He cradles your face with both hands, thumbs moving down as if tracing tear streaks down your cheeks.
Neither of you notices the thick fog starting to accumulate around you. A sinister whisper crackling within the gray. It settles around you. Listening to your needy whimpers and Jack’s groans—it observes, takes in the desire reflected in your features, and shapes begin to form.
The fire goes out with a loud sizzle.
“Fuck—” Jack hisses, pulling away, hand moving to grab his gun. He pulls you close. You’re still tasting him on your lips, dazed and confused as to what’s happening. There’s a moment of silence between you two, your surroundings illuminated only by the lanterns.
The fog is unnaturally thick. You hear sounds; breathy and intoxicating. The voices grow louder, a tingle spreads over the back of your neck, and you notice that they’re oddly familiar—
Your cheeks burn when you notice they’re the sound of your moans. Both Jack’s and yours. The shapes are still forming, only mere silhouettes of two people perched on top of a log, their poses the same as yours.
“Eidolon Veil,” you mumble, drawing Jack’s attention to you. “I heard of it, never actually saw it before.”
“What is it?” he grunts a response, hand still on your waist. “And why the hell is it moanin’?”
“It’s harmless,” you answer. “It’s a reflective fog that takes the shape of those within its circle and mimics their desires as well.”
Jack snorts, lowering his gun, “So what, you’re tellin’ me this mist is gonna show us fuckin’ like rabbits soon?”
You turn to him, a hint of mischief in your eyes, “If that’s what you desire, then yes,” you grin. “Though the image becomes vivid only if the people actually go through with it. If not it’ll only show a preview and move on to its next target,” you raise an eyebrow at him. “You really don’t know what it is?”
“I don’t research the creepy crawlies as much as you do,” he croaks. “Are you sure it’s harmless? In this world nothin’ is.”
“I think it has to do with substance,” you say. “Desire keeps it from dissolving entirely. So it’s basically looking for food.”
An especially sharp moan echoes from the mist and you involuntarily press your thighs together, arousal growing between your legs. Jack also shudders at the sound. He palms himself through his pants, your eyes dropping to where his cock strains against the thick fabric.
“Let's give it something to choke on then.”
Throwing all caution into the wind, you two strip down eagerly, your mouths always a breath away. The figures within the fog become more tangible, you can see yourself clearly now, your face painted with want and arousal. You get on all fours and the mirage does the same, Jack is on his knees right behind you, hand slipping between your legs. He traces his fingers up and down soaked folds, circling your clit, you feel the heft of him over the curve of your ass.
Your breath hitches as he pushes two fingers into you, electricity crackles over your skin, a moan parting your lips further. The mirage mimics every sound and movement, and watching it turns you on in a way you didn’t think was possible.
“Fuck, look at you,” Jack coos. “Such a sight—and so darn wet.”
He fucks his fingers deeper into you and pulls them out slowly. Jack leans over to kiss the skin between your shoulder blades, the movement of his fingers slow as he works you open. Your head falls and you arch your back, wanting more. He doesn’t stop until you’re a sopping, trembling mess. Slick drips down his fingers and all the way down to his wrists.
When you look at the mirage, the Jack within the fog makes you taste yourself on his fingers.
Your Jack hums pleasantly, pulling out, he traces the plush of your lips with wet fingers before slipping them into your mouth. You suck eagerly, your cunt fluttering at the lewdness of it.
He cups your neck and pulls you up so that you’re flush against his chest, your pulse quickens as he presses his lips against your ear, “You think you can take me, darlin’?” he asks and kisses your cheek.
“Y–Yeah,” you whimper, the fog echoing your answer.
You haven’t gotten a good look at him yet but you do feel him. He’s thick and hard, dragging his cock up and down your slit. You shudder as the head catches against your clit, making you gasp. “You’re drippin’ sweetheart,” he says with a grin, breath tickling your neck. “And you’re shakin’, worried I’m too big?”
His voice drips with sarcasm and glee, he teases your entrance with the head, smearing precome over the sensitive skin. You gasp and feel your nipples tighten, without thinking you spread your legs further.
“Yes!” your mirage echoes your thoughts. You let out a deep exhale, blood rushing to your cheeks. “You’re so big, Jack—It won’t fit. . .”
“Is that right now?” he murmurs, dragging the curve of his nose down your neck. “You say it. I want to hear your voice.”
You clear your throat. Beads of sweat gather at your tailbone, “Y–You’re big,” you whimper and as a reward he cups both your breasts, playing with your nipples. “I don’t know if it’ll fit. It’s been a while.”
He takes a sharp inhale, “I’ll make it fit,” he growls, exhaling his breath simultaneously.
With that, Jack sinks into you.
He sucks on your neck and continues to gently pinch your nipples, waiting for your to adjust to his size. “That’s it,” he purrs, licking the salt from your skin. “You feel so good around me, sugar. Look at how fucked out you look already.”
He holds your jaw and tilts your head up, you clench as you see yourself. He was right. You look utterly fucked out; kiss-swollen lips parted, chest heaving and glistening with sweat.
“Jack,” you whimper. “Move, please.”
“Okay, sweetheart,” he soothes you, lips pressing against your neck before letting you go. Your palms fall to the ground. “You’re made for me, pretty girl, don’t you forget it.”
Before you can say anything, he pulls back his hips and slams into you with force. Your fingers dig into the soil, your body going rigid before becoming loose again. Jack fucks you thoroughly, slowing down while pulling out only to snap forward. He’s loud. Growls and grunts bouncing off of his clenched teeth, he holds on to your waist and the mirage echoes it.
With every thrust, he knocks the air from your lungs. Pleasure swirls in your stomach, shirt circuits your brain. Your lips part wide with a series of moans, your breasts tingling. Your senses narrow on the way his cock fills you, how deep he is inside, and how you just want to scream—not his name necessarily, but something you can address him as.
With both your and your mirage's moans getting louder and louder, your mind whirls. You’re gushing with every thrust, your orgasm rapidly building.
Daddy, your mind suddenly shouts. Your body tenses, your cunt squeezing around him in away that it forces the slows of his thrust. Jack groans at the overwhelming tightness, his cock pulsing. You watch the mirrored reflection, see the veins popping in his neck, see the debauched look of his face.
Daddy.
“F-Fuck—” you rasp when Jack resumes his thrust, faster and harder than before. He smacks your ass, pain blossoming over the skin.
Then suddenly you hear it.
It’s your voice but not your lips that moves.
“Again—Daddy—” the voice is strained, as if your replica is equally as embarrassed as you are.
He stops and you see his confusion in the fog. “W-What?” he murmurs. You shake your head, your frustration growing as you press your lips tight together. Jack smoothes his palm over your back. “What did you just call me, sugar?”
You clear your throat, “Technically it wasn’t me,” you say weakly. Jack smiles as he drags blunt nails down your skin, your body reacts and arches towards him. You sigh. “It was a mistake.”
“Not it wasn’t,” he quips. “You said so remember? The thing about the veil mimicking our desires?” he doesn’t wait for your answer as he bends over, covering your body with his. He whispers, “You can call me, daddy, if you want to. I don’t mind, darlin’. In fact, I like it.”
You nod and he slowly drags himself out, and equally slowly pushes back in, “Use your words.”
“Yes, d-daddy,” you gasp, the word hits your tongue just right.
Jack draws back again, satisfaction pooling in his eyes. He grins and a part of you can’t help but feel flustered. “That’s what I want to hear,” he kisses the back of your shoulder and continue to move inside of you.
The sensation of his thick cock sliding in and out of you sends shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body. You moan in pleasure as your orgasm builds with each thrust. He grips your hips, thrusting harder and faster as your orgasm nears its peak. You can barely keep your balance as the waves of pleasure wash over you in a glorious chorus of bliss.
“Oh—daddy—” you sigh, your tongue loose. The fog picks up your moan, echoing your words. You bite your lip as his hands move from your hips to your chest, massaging your breast with each thrust.
“Look at that face,” he says with a moan, forcing your gaze up. “Gonna come for me, pretty girl?” he teases. You nod helplessly, your body burning from the inside out. “Then ask for it, sugar.”
“P-Please, daddy, make me come,” you moan, you’re pleasantly helpless under him. “Pleasepleaseplease—”
With one final thrust, you tip over the edge; your orgasm rattles through your body accompanied by a series of groans and daddy’s. Adrenaline rushes through your system—your toes curl, your neck arches and your eyes roll back as pleasure washes through you.
The mirage echoes every sound as Jack pumps his cum into you. He lifts you by the shoulder, forcing your head towards him as he claims your lips in a heated kiss. He swallows your moans, your whimpers and sucks your tongue until you’re compeltly pliant against him.
Once he’s finished, the fog starts to dissipate until it’s only the two of you, lying in the dirt, panting, the fire alive once again. Jack kisses the top of your head before pulling out, and you look away, his spend drips from you, making a mess between your thighs, your face heats up.
He tenderly cradles the side of your. Jack smiles and you can’t help but smile as well, burying your face into his palm.
“That was—damn,” you manage to say. You blink and sit up, looking around you. There’s nothing but darkness and the sound of crickets.
“Seems like your daddy took care of you,” Jack purrs, pecking your lips before pulling you into an embrace. You glare at him as he nuzzles your neck.
“If you mention that to anyone else I’ll kill you.”
He laughs whole heatedly, “I don’t kiss and tell, sweetheart. Don’t you worry that pretty head of yours.”
“So the Eidolon Veil moved on,” you say, changing the subject. “I guess it was well fed.”
“It seems like it,” he responds, kissing your forehead. Your heart flutters. “C’mere, let’s get you dressed before you catch a cold. We still have a whole lot of investigatin’ to do tomorrow.”
“Can’t we just stay like this? A little longer?”
He kisses your temple this time, his warmth seeping into your back. “‘Course we can, darlin’.”
You lean into his embrace and he manages to pull one of the blankets from his pack, covering you. Your eyes trail the stars in the sky.
Little moments of peace like this are worth savoring just a bit longer.
#jack daniels x reader#jack daniels x you#jack daniels x female reader#agent whiskey x reader#agent whiskey x you#agent whiskey x female reader#kingsman the golden circle fic#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal character fic#hauntedhoedown
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disclaimers/tags: female oc. written as a reader insert but reader has a lot of backstory. slowburn. angst. no fun spin on misogyny, just the bad one. implied domestic violence but nothing too graphic. minors dni.
a/n: the plot of the show is not relevant to this story, i’m just using the characters, who are likely ooc. i’m hoping to end it within 3-4 posts but like i said, it’s a bit of a slowburn. i pulled the wattpad tropes out for this one and i’m not sorry, it is cheesy. if you’ve seen the show, the boyfriend shares similarities with the tillerson boys. it’s purposefully ambiguous, up to you if it’s one of them or not. rhett is not a fuckboy in this, just a boy who fucks.
lmk your thoughts :)
part 2
right cowboy, wrong time
rhett abbott
summary: you’re not home and your boyfriend’s a dick. thankfully, not all cowboys are bad.
The humid air makes your nose itch, adapting to the change in weather. Your head is held high, however, trying not to look too out of place and dare draw any attention.
"You're not fooling anyone."
"Excuse me?"
He leans in by your side, arms crossing in front of him as he looks over his elbows, pretending something in the mud caught his eye.
"Most girls from the city who try to pass as locals at least dress up the part. You couldn't find any boots that fit your taste?"
Blue eyes squint at the pair of Vans perched on the wooden fence, matching your dark 'mom jeans'.
It was bold of this guy, you thought, to come up to you with so much snark after falling from a bull so badly the audience audibly winced. But there was something soft in his features, non malicious. You decide to risk being honest with him.
"The cowboy hat is a demand from my boyfriend. So is the push-up bra." You point to your pronounced chest with your chin, smiling when the stranger next to you follows the movement with a lazy gaze. "It's funny, he said something similar. He wants me to look more like the girls from around here."
The stranger finally looks you in the eye from under his own hat. Unfamiliar warmth fills your belly and you fight the urge to clear the hair away from his face.
"Why doesn't he just date them, then?"
A loud bitter laugh escapes from your lips right into his ears, and he straigtens up instantly, like a shock.
"Million dollar question, isn't it?" Thin lips reciprocate your smile. God, you thought you hated all cowboys. "Uhm, he says they bore him. He wants my brain, but their look. If you ask me the truth, I just think he went through all of them already, so he went looking for an idiot to appease him somewhere else. And he found me."
Amusement crosses his eyes despite the frown in display on his face.
"He sounds like an asshole."
Unkown nice cowboy has a lovely, deep voice.
You're about to lean a little closer and agree, when someone cuts you off.
"Who does?" Blinding white teeth bite into the cold night air, the strong arms of your boyfriend crushing your side into him, akin to a predator protecting his meal. "Abbott."
Your new friend acknowledges the tall blonde possessively separating you two with equal contempt in his words.
Suddenly, you're invisible. The nice boy leaves without so much as a glance.
These will be miserable months.
------------------------
"So, Abbott, huh?"
Maybe you shouldn't have followed him into the grocery store, but it was hot outside.
"What, interested? We might have a name, but that name doesn't have much money attached to it anymore."
He doesn't look at you, simply puts what he needs in his basket and keeps walking. You trace his steps from a distance, enjoying the refreshing breeze from the AC.
"No danger of that. As you've seen, I'm taken."
His arm freezes above his head, shades of blue boring into you inquisitively, before he grabs a can of beans and checks the expiration date on it.
"I'm just looking for a friend. I'll hardly survive here if I don't have any of those."
"What about your guy? He won't like this friendship."
You shrug innocently, dusting the shelves with the tip of your fingers.
"It's his fault I can't have any girl friends in this town, seeing they are all his exes and consequently dislike me at once. Plus, who said I want you to be my friend? I'm just banking on the fact that your family is known around here, and you'd be an easy shortcut to meeting people."
"So you're using me." He speaks over his shoulder, walking to the freezer section.
"Sure am. But at least I'm honest about it."
His back is still turned to you when he speaks again.
"Is that a big thing for you, honesty?"
Your skin grows hot. This random cute boy can't read your mind, relax. He's trying to get to know you. It's small talk. Not everyone wants to hurt you.
"It is. Count on it."
Hopefully, how vulnerable it is to admit as much doesn't come across.
Abbott side-eyes you, with a genuine smirk. It forces you to look away, intimidated.
Maybe it was mistake to target him. You should leave.
Before a rude goodbye can leave your lips, the young man turns to you.
"Why are you here, if you don't know anyone?"
Short fingernails picking the label off cheap frozen veggies, you try to smile but it certainly doesn't reach your eyes.
"Taking some time off university."
How embarrassing. You have no problem poking and probing until they do it to you, and then you're avoiding eye contact and looking for an exit.
"What do you study?"
"English. In Boston. I'm a writer. Allegedly."
You can tell your joke entertains him from the small exhale that comes out of his nose.
"Do you like it?"
"I love it." The truth finally forces you to look up. You notice the confusion on his face, anticipating his question with a shrug. "My boyfriend. He wanted me to take a break."
Abbott looks disappointed, and, for whatever reason, it hurts. A silly desire for him to think highly of you.
"I don't mean to overstep, but I wouldn't peg you for the kind'f girl to go where a man tells her to."
A terrible habit, you cover the purple spot on your jaw with your hair, pretending to smooth non existent knots.
"It wasn't an easy choice, but it was for the best."
Thin brows furrow and dirty fingers brush the strands away, gently. Of course he would notice.
"I'll get out of your hair now, sorry to bother. I was really just trying to cool off. See you around!"
Trembling hands push the grocery store's doors, curse words mumbled under your breath. Great fucking job, idiot.
------------------------
He approaches you next.
You saw him earlier when you got to the bar, drinking with another guy, but kept your head down and continued walking next to your boyfriend and his friends.
It was going to be hard to get to you, since you weren't allowed to be alone unless you were going to the bathroom. Which is how he got you.
As soon as you step out to wash your hands, he's in the corridor, chewing on his bottom lip.
"Stranger." Eyes meet and you try to ignore the hair in the back of your neck standing up. You do your best to not get your sleeves wet without having to push them up too high. "Men's room occupied?"
He doesn't miss the suggestivenes on your tone, copying the smirk you're struggling to hide. For all you know, he might have some pretty blonde freshening up in there.
"You city folks and beating 'round the bush."
His voice rumbles through you, tongue busy tsking at your poor attempt at avoiding the elephant in the room.
You take him in through the mirror's reflection. Hands in his pockets, leaning on the plastic divider failing to pass as real wood. Looking determinedly at you.
If you said so, would he beat the shit out of your boyfriend and make sure he never calls again?
Tossing the crumpled handtowel in the trash, your back touches the soaked and sticky counter, commanding him to listen by returning his direct staring.
"Okay. This is not your problem to fix. I'm sorry about what you saw, it wasn't a signal or anything. I'm fine and you don't need to get involved. Good?"
He nods and you move to leave, stopped by an unsure hand grabbing your elbow. It quickly retracts to his side, wiping against his jeans.
"Do you need a job or something?"
"I thought your family didn't have much money."
A shy smile takes over his features, breaking the restraint that always seems to reign over. Another small chuckle escapes him, making his Adam's apple throb and your eyes drag not so subtly.
The smell of hard vodka hits your nose when he inches closer, stuttering.
"My brother, uhm, has a friend who owns a diner nearby. It's smack centre of town, busy enough that he always needs more help and most of the creeps avoid it. Probably not what a fancy writer from Boston dreams of but if you plan on sticking around, it'll help you get some of your own cash."
The promise of independence.
You give him a warm smile you haven't gifted anyone with in a while.
"Can I get the name of this magical place?"
------------------------
It's early, too early, his head feels like it weighs three times its normal and all he wants is for his family to lower their voices.
Until your sweet ring, sharpened for customer service points, breaks through his morning suffering and drowns the sour taste in his mouth.
"Hello, beautiful people. What can I get you?" The apron is neatly tied with a bow on top of your stomach, clearly tightened around your back and then the front again, with more effort than he's ever seen in this diner. He can't help but scoff, and you finally look up from the old school notepad in your hands. "Oh, hi."
Everyone at the table shoots him a glare, assuming what they always did. One more girl they'll never learn the name of, and it's possibly better that way.
His mother, in particular, has a scowl on her face, looking out the window and avoiding dealing with whoever her son messes with.
"Happy to see you here."
The sun bothers his eyes, one of which is closed when he acknowledges you. He has no idea how his mom can have her head turned that way without wincing. Although she coughs, he's sure it's in response to what he had just said.
It was innocent, but she didn't know that.
"Wouldn't be if it wasn't for you." That gets his mother to look. "Thanks, by the way."
He puts his fist in front of his lips, elbows glued to the recently wiped table, a bit embarrassed of all the attention you dumped onto him.
"I didn't do nothing, Perry is the one who talked to his friend. You should thank him."
You throw a small smile at him, almost teasing, barely whispering an 'oh'. He sees very little of your teeth, rosy lips and dimples provoking him for a brief second before you redirect your kindness to his brother on the other side of the table.
"I am very grateful, you basically got me the job." Perry extends his hand for you to shake, and there's a little spark in his eyes that's been gone since Rebecca. Maybe it's your effect on people. "Let me return the favor and get you guys a good breakfast, what do you say?"
When you leave, he takes a page from his mom's book and stares at the brightness cascading down the trucks in the parking lot. His head hurts again but at least he's definitely not thinking about the lines around your eyes when you grin or the flowery smell you left behind.
"Who is she?"
"Drop it, ma." The question comes in a much more unpretentious manner than usual and it doesn't go unnoticed by him, even if he's not looking at her. "Some girl from outta town who needed help settling in. That's all."
At the last word, he tips his hat over his eyes and decides he's better off daydreaming about the attractive outsider committed to being nice to him than fending off his family's suspicions.
You leave them to it after serving their plates, and he misses your eyes on him but doesn't say anything.
When they're leaving, Amelia dettaches herself from her father's grip and pokes you in the leg as you're cleaning a different table close to the exit. He holds the door, intrigued by what on earth this kid is up to now.
"Uncle Rhett says you're from out of town." He almost knocks his forehead on the glass as he realizes he offered you a job but never a name. You nod at his niece, sending him a questioning look. "You're just as pretty as I thought they'd be."
He feels like bolting out of the diner and running home. What if you thought he told Amelia to say that to you? You'll think he's a fucking loser.
Not that he should care this much.
Instead, he's frozen in place watching another breathtaking smile blossom on your face as you think about how to react.
"Well," You sigh, and look straight into the little girl's eyes. "Takes one to know one."
With a wink, you exchange introductions and he might have to thank his niece later for that, because he never asked for your name either.
You go straight back to wiping the table so he walks away, but not without a weird feeling someone's watching as he climbs into the back of the truck.
------------------------
It's a while before he sees you again.
He doesn't bother you at work, too shy despite his curiosity to go in alone and too hungover to wake up in time to follow his family for breakfast.
You don't go out much, or at all, apparently. He's at the bar every night, you're not.
He sees Maria though, stunning as ever. And like most nights, she makes him too nervous and he does nothing about it.
Perry calls in a favor and now he's parking the truck in the back of the diner with a couple of boxes of fresh produce on the passenger seat.
It's you who comes out to greet him.
You're awfully quiet and evasive, taking the boxes inside without making eye contact.
When you come back with the money, you accidentally skip a step, heel of your shoe sliding off the wood and causing you to land a little harsh on the concrete.
He's quick to steady you, ready to joke about your useless sneakers when he realizes the contorted look on your face and how you're grabbing at your left knee.
"Ok there?"
Like you remembered yourself, your back straightens up and you shove the money into his hands, pushing him away in the process. The distance is not enough that he doesn't see the tears welling up in your eyes.
"Fine. Here you go. Lenny says thanks."
Turning to climb back inside, as soon as your left leg rises, you audibly wince and stop.
He's not too sure of what do, until he hears shaky breaths.
"I'll take you to a hospital, let-"
"No hospitals, I can't."
It's an automatic response and he understands immediately.
"How bad is it?"
He can't really see through your jeans.
"He- I fell. I think it's just bruised, I don't know."
"My mom can take a look at it, she's had plenty of practice with my brother and I, she won't mind. Don't protest, just get in the car. I'll tell Lenny you're not feeling too good."
Before you can stop him, he's putting the money on Lenny's palm and stammering out an excuse. He's surprised by how fast he sprung into action too.
During the ride you don't cry, but stubborn hiccups give away that you're holding the tears back really hard. He wants to tell you it's okay, he doesn't care if you cry, but he's scared if he opens his mouth he'll end up saying something that'll make you more upset, choosing instead to white-knuckle his steering wheel.
His mother is washing the pans from lunch when he gets home, you following behind uncertain, making yourself small. It's a stark contrast from the day you followed him into the grocery store, mindlessly striking up conversation, and it bothers him.
She remembers you, surprisingly, but still asks menacingly what he thinks he's doing.
"She's hurt, and I thought you might help, Ma.”
You look so uncomfortable, ashamed to impose. He tells you to take a seat on the couch and moves to grab you a glass of water from the kitchen, stopping by his mother to put a hand on her shoulder and whisper who's your boyfriend.
A look of understanding quickly crosses her eyes, and instant compassion takes over, huffing as she crouches down to get the first aid kit under the sink.
The two women fall into comfortable silence. The knee is simply sore, the skin a little dark, but he knows you probably didn't give it any time to heal, waltzing around the diner for days without taking care of yourself.
You're given pain killers and he finally hands you the water, fingertips wet from nervously gripping the bottom of the glass, trying not to curse out the man responsible for your situation.
This kind of thing wasn't entirely unusual for smaller, conservative towns, but times have gladly changed. No one here likes to see it, the cuplrits are pointed out wherever they go, sometimes being denied service and shunted from the community. Still, no one's forward enough to put themselves in between 'husband and wife'.
It's a pity, he thinks. All you had to do was ask, and he would get his father and his brother to kick an entire generation of blonde little pricks out of their town.
Alas, you never did.
He thinks you don't want to ask, analyzing closely how apologetic you are to his mother, scared to sit back on the couch and take space that isn’t yours.
The older woman gets up, glancing between you and him.
"Don't worry, kid. I'm quite happy to meet you. I usually don't get to tell Rhett's girls they are welcome to stay."
She manages to be endearing to you and venomous to him in the same breath, and he chuckles lowly through gritted teeth, looking up at the ceiling. Of course she would say something like that.
Wondering what you're probably thinking of him at his mother's revelation, he finds you biting back a grin, dimples digging into your cheeks. Once more, he loses control of himself and returns - actually, no, gratuitously hands you a wide smile in a silver platter. His reaction is five times bigger than yours.
"His girls, plural, you say?" There's something infuriating about your energy towards him. You're fucking with him, no doubt about that, but it's not mean. Well, maybe a little bit because you seem to enjoy the way he changes his footing back and forth, blushing at his damn boots. Somehow, however, it fills him with giddiness. He has no reason to be so certain about it, but he knows it's lighthearted. If you had evil intent, maybe he would've already had you crammed into his truck and drooling around his cock. Unfortunately, seems like you were truthful that day at the store. You want a friend. "'Fraid I'm not of them, ma'am. I have my own guy to worry about."
You're looking back at the matriarch now, arms hanging on top of cushions, green blemishes hidden underneath your biceps.
"That's never stopped any of you before."
It's a test.
You're quicker than her.
"I don't think the size of a district interferes with someone's morals. I might've been raised by a big city, but I'm not and have never been that kind of girl."
His mother snaps back your way, spine straight, slowly breaking out a smile. You passed with flying colors. She likes folks who can stand up for themselves, means they think they're good enough to start a fight over, and that's good enough for her.
At that moment, Amelia bursts through the door, already rambling to her grandmother about something she learned in school that day.
When she sees you, she freezes in the middle of the kitchen, out of breath from all the talking. Fast hands roll your pant leg down before she can see anything.
Amy can barely contain her smile, fixing herself up and dropping her school bag on the floor. "What are you doing here?"
You brush off the older members of the family reprimanding her lack of manners.
"Paying a visit. On my way out, though, I should be getting back to work."
Trying to stand up without a fuss is a disaster, and he's right by your side in case you need to lean on someone. Of course you reject it, though.
"Are you okay?"
"Just fine. I slipped at work and your uncle offered to help, that's all."
Shooting the girl a reassuring smile, she betrays it with a suspicious laugh.
The two of you stare at her, confused.
"Yeah, Uncle Rhett is such a helping hand."
Sarcasm is dripping from her words and he knows immediately that you two will get along. Dangerously so.
Ignoring the brat, he turns to you, hand still hovering behind your back.
"It's late, there's like, what? Forty minutes left to your shift? Twenty after we finally get there? I'll just take you home."
Your eyes widen at the mention of home. Of course he, an Abbott, can't drop you off at your boyfriend's property, where he assumed you were staying.
"Wait, can I show you around before you go? I want you to see something."
Amelia butts in before he can signal that he understood and he'd give you a ride to town, at least. You nod at the smaller figure, letting her take your hand.
He's debating whether or not to follow you two, until you look back from the doorway.
"Aren't you coming? If we get lost, we might need your savior complex."
It's another dig at him. This time, he has a comeback at the tip of his tongue.
"I'll stop saving you when you stop needing me."
He knows his mother is smiling.
Whatever confident spirit possessed him, it pushes him out the door, chest grazing yours as he tips his hat your way, boots digging into the humid grass and whistling for one the dogs to accompany you.
He hears you laugh for the first time since he saw you at the rodeo. It's really, really nice.
------------------------
You begin seeing each other more often after that day.
Rhett comes in at least three times a week, usually with Amelia, paying for her milkshake. They sit at the counter so they can talk to you when you're not attending to any tables.
You don't think much of it. Your boyfriend's the only one you go home to every night, no matter what. You have no intentions of changing that, for now.
Aside from the Abbotts, Danielle who works with you is the only other friend you've made. You like it that way. Lenny, not unlike the patrons at the diner, asks too many personal questions so you keep your conversations to a minimum.
Work, then to your boyfriend's mansion.
The house is usually quiet, so after being stuck for so long in a writer's block, it's a relief when you pick up your laptop and start something new. It could be worse.
On a slow Wednesday, Amelia convinces you to let her help wipe the tables.
Bending down to pick up an abandoned spoon on the floor, something strange nags at the pit of your stomach. Rhett is talking to a girl with long, dark hair.
It happens. But with her, you notice, his body language is much more insecure. Spilling his coffee accidentally.
"What am I looking at?"
Amelia barely spares them a glance before scoffing. "That's Maria. Uncle Rhett has had a dying crush on her since high school. That's what my dad says."
"She's beautiful."
She really is. When she leaves the diner, most pair of eyes, men and women, follow her.
"I guess. Too beautiful, my dad says, and that's why my uncle never does anything about it. It scares him."
What you wouldn't give to feel like that for a day.
Dating a man who is constantly requesting that you look different, like other people, is terribly exhausting. And some got to walk around effortlessly desirable to everyone. It's hardly fair.
With his credit card, you buy new clothes and more make up. It's a good few weeks for the two of you, best you've had in a while.
------------------------
On a day off, you decide to tag along for the rodeo.
Maria is there too, with one of your boyfriend's brothers, which you find weird. In a sea of options, she can definitely do better. You'd tell her, but under his eagle eye you have no time to introduce yourself.
Rhett is riding one of the bulls, and you see how her eyes never leave him, even when he's standing in the sidelines waiting for his turn. She wrings her hands together when he mounts, and claps excitedly when he marks a good time despite the pointed looks from the boys.
Your hand is in a tight grip as you walk into the bar, and the minute you do, Maria frees herself with two strong strides. Your feet almost follow her, wondering if her group of girlfriends would let you sit with them and just listen.
She spends her night laughing, dancing, and talking to Rhett as the bartender serves her a new round. Yours is spent watching in envy.
A hand possessively squeezes around your thigh, drawing your attention away.
"Sorry. I need air."
Three minutes is all you get to yourself. Heavy boots make the wood creak, awkward step causing you to stifle a tipsy laugh.
He's not gonna forgive you for that.
You're pressed against the wall, his arms trapping you as he snarls his complaints, hair flying into your mouth as you yell back. It's bad, and loud, but fuck it.
He talks about how boring you are, how the other girls don't mind growing their hair in the heat, their nails are still manicured, their asses still full despite not eating much. You talk about feeling overwhelmed and homesick, out of your element. It's not the same. It's not fucking fair.
The Abbott siblings walk out when he's calling you a stuck up bitch, your answer dying in your throat.
You're so fucking stupid. Incapable of controlling yourself. He notices the look you exchange with the younger brother, quietly crossing your arms and swallowing your tears, flustered cheeks pointing at the ground.
In no time, he's scoffing and turning towards the entrance.
"Abbott, you got something to tell me?"
Rolling your eyes, you push yourself to sound annoyed and confused, calling his name.
He shuts you up with a finger to your face.
"Don't play dumb." Looking between the pair of you, the lewdness in his next sentence makes you nauseous. "I can't let your whore ass out of my sight, can I?"
Rhett steps forward and you know this is not going to end well.
They're talking over each other and your attempt to be heard is pathetic, trying nonetheless, pulling by his shirt and begging him to let it go.
Knowing exactly how to put a stop to this nonsense, you put your body in between the men and, reactively, an elbow makes contact with your mouth. The blood is still not as sickening as your boyfriend's remarks.
It doesn't take much to assure you it was him. Perry and Rhett are more careful than that, probably raised well by their mama (in a brief moment of dizziness, a smile comes to your bloody lips). But he stopped yelling, and moving. Throwing scared glances between the people outside.
People knew, but to deal with it man to man was different.
Spitting out the dark liquid, you look up at your boyfriend. "Can we go home now?"
Cursing under his breath, he shoulders past the other boys and walks away to wait for you by the truck.
If you stop to breathe, you might crumble. So you turn and walk back inside, poignantly avoiding the two pairs of eyes bugging out at you.
Determined steps take you to the table you were sitting at minutes ago. If you had just kept your emotions under- nevermind that.
The girls, Maria especially, are terrified to see your red teeth. Her eyes question something behind you, and you assume Rhett followed you inside.
Anticipating his hand on the small of your back, you take a step closer to the table, fully under the white light hanging above. The boys are unphased by your state.
"Keys." Met with a wave of grunts at the thought of losing their friend this early in the night. "He wants to go."
A blonde head pokes out, challenging. Drunk out of his mind, slurring his words. "C'mon, I thought it was your job to, howtoputit, mellow him out? Did you even try? Let me look down your throat, say 'Ah'."
A couple people laugh. Rhett growls behind you, and before he can make things worse, you square your shoulders, then shrug.
"Why do you think he wants to go?" You could puke right then and there. Instead, you extend your hand. "Keys."
You bump Rhett on the shoulder on your way out, just like your boyfriend. The regret and the image of those crooked repulsive smiles at the table cause you to throw up as soon as your shoes hit the dirt. Perry looks away, respectfully, until you're climbing inside the truck.
--
part 2 is finished and will come out soon :)
#rhett abbott#rhett abbott x reader#reader insert#i havent written in a while im nervous asaaaaaahhhhaggg
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Marcus Moreno x f!reader
Warnings: protected P in V sex. Talk of sex work.
Summary: A new client finds her perfect match at one of the motel's Fantasy Weekends.
And It Just Keeps Getting Better
Part 2: It's Always the Quiet Ones.
The bass practically shook the walls of the reception hall.
"Someone go tell Omar to turn it down!" Pike calls as he joins the group outside.
"Tell him my hangover would thank him for it." Dieter adds, wincing as he rubs his temples.
"I have some oils that could soothe that, Princesa." Oberyn offers, a sympathetic smile on his lips as he looks at the permanently dishevelled man that he has taken quite a shine to.
"I'm good. Thanks." Dieter offers him a lop-sided smile of his own.
"Remember we need to circulate and talk to the guests. Not each other." Pike glanced at Oberyn's hand resting on Dieter's shoulder. "I'll have Omar turn the music down so we can actually hear them. Santos is serving food in an hour. That will give the guests time to choose from the other menu."
The Fantasy Weekend was always popular. It cost extra but guests were able to get to know the boys before they chose how they wanted to spend their weekend. Usually bookings were just made through Ezra. He would draw out every detail he needed to pair the person up with the perfect partner. Some were simple. A woman calls up looking for a cowboy, he books her in with Jack. A guy calls looking for the same thing, he gets Silva. Ezra enjoys the more complex ones. The one where he has to listen to what's being said between the words. The woman who insists she is not interested in romance and adamant that she just wants a rough, thrilling fuck. Ezra thinks the lady doth protest too much and sends her to Javier. They definitely gets her hard, satisfying fucking, there's no doubt about that. But a look from Javier's dark eyes that seem to magnify every emotion, shining with concern as he hands her a glass of water reminds her what she is missing out on. It's a cathartic realisation. It's okay to want something outside of the career she's worked so hard for.
Occasionally people ask what happens if they don't find their matches attractive. Ezra reassures them with a chuckle that they will. He's never had a customer who didn't fall for the charm of the boys.
"We have a couple of guests in the side room. Pike and I will tend to them." Moreno steps through the gathering of bodies. "You all know the drill. When Max has finished his introductions, go mingle. Javier and Din will keep an eye on everyone."
"Yes, boss." Jack tips his hat as Joel hides a smirk. Neither of them mind the Marcuses taking control of things, they just find their pathological need for organisation amusing.
Pike mutters a head count under his breath. "Wait, where's Dave?"
Frankie adjusts his cap and clears his throat. "He got a head start on things."
As if on cue Omar finally turned the music down. The sounds of ecstatic screaming came from above.
Dave York was like a predator, when the guests were herded in he would eye them up, looking for any weak ones to pick off. The timid little things were even more impressed by his prowess. That earned him a bigger tip, excellent word of mouth and repeat business. Plus it meant everything was on his terms, Dave hated to be dictated to. That was another reason he gave gatherings a miss. Once he lays his current client out for the night he might swing by to pick up someone who got off on the danger of him having someone else waiting for him. The wedding ring he wore fuelled the fantasy as he slipped his fingers into their panties to tease them before rapidly fucking them in a dark corner. Sending them on their way on shaking legs.
"Of course." Pike sighed.
"Here, at the Hotel de Deseo. We leave no wish unfulfilled!" Max finishes his intro with a flourish.
"Here we go." Joel yanks the doors open leaving those more comfortable with the attention to go in first. Of course, Oberyn and Dieter are first through. The crowd's gaze is mixed. Lust, approval and admiration cross their faces. Each of them give the men appraising glaces, up and down, before settling on the flower each man had pinned to their lapel, or sweater in Dieter's case. To aid the guests in their search for their perfect fantasy partner, each man wore a flower denoting their sexuality. Simple white blooms from the men that only slept with women. Green carnations for the men that only slept with men. Rainbow roses for everyone in between.
Silva and Gregor always elicited a few disappointed sighs from the women. The same goes for Joel, Pike and Moreno with the men.
Finally the pounding base was turned off. Every muscle in your body relaxed slightly, only for a moment. The nice woman, Mrs Lord, that showed you had given you a brief rundown of what to expect. After the dancing and mingling to loosen up. The men would enter and circulate, giving everyone time to work out who they'd like to spend the night with. From the cheering, you guessed that the men had entered. Suddenly you couldn't remember the courage that had brought you here. It was as if someone else called the number and made all the arrangements. Someone else picked a beautiful floral underwear set. Someone else delicately sprayed perfume over your decolletage, hoping that someone would get close enough to enjoy it. It wasn't an all together strange feeling to feel like someone else was controlling your body. Some days you felt like an imposter in it, just going through the motions of acting like a human being.
The door to the simply furnished side room you were sitting in opened. Kind brown eyes framed by thick black glasses meet yours as a smartly dressed man enters the room. He gives you a friendly smile as he edges closer giving you time to adjust to his presence.
"Hi, I thought there were two of you?" He glances around the small room as if he expects the other woman that was here to break out of the camouflage she's using to hide in the tiny room.
The owl-like motion makes you smile. "She got up the courage to go out there."
"But you're happy here…?" His question seems loaded as your fingers dig in the sofa cushions on either side of your thighs.
"Yeah, yes." A bubble of emotion bursts in your throat. "No. To be honest, I thought I could do this…I can't." Shaking your head, you hang it low.
"Can't do what? Sit on a sofa? That's all we're doing right now." The sofa dips on the other side under his weight. "There is absolutely no pressure to go any further with this. You can leave. We'll give you a refund of what you've paid so far. Since you have come all the way out here, maybe you could at least tell me what you're looking for."
"Sex." The word shoots out before you can stop it. You had an appreciation for honesty but that was blunt even for you. "I mean…"
Tiny laughter lines bloom on the man's face. He somehow manages to be even more attractive as he laughs at your candour. "It's okay. I appreciate your honesty. Sorry, forgive my bad manners. I'm Marcus. I'm here to help you find your perfect partner for the night, and the weekend if you'd like. I'm just going to ask you a few questions if that's okay?"
He flips over the clipboard on his lap.
"Yeah. Sure. Can I ask you a question?"
"Ask away. I'm here if you need anything at all."
"Are you one of the partners I could pick?"
When he nervously removes his glasses to clean them and you see his warm eyes properly, you're sure that he is the one. A relieved sigh leaves you when he answers. "Yes, I am."
Marcus diligently takes notes of everything you tell him. After Covid your company decided to have you work from home full time. In some ways it was a blessing. You didn't have to adjust to the world again. You could stay safe in your little bubble. Catering to your needs in a way the work environment just couldn't. The downside was that you met less people. There were less opportunities to find a partner organically. Dating apps and singles nights sounded like a nightmare. Plus you weren't sure if you wanted a relationship. A little human contact of the adult variety could probably keep you feeling fine for a while. That's when you'd heard about the motel. It sounded perfect. No messy social interaction. No second guessing people's intentions. Just a straightforward transactional exchange.
"It really is beautiful out here." Taking a lung full of fresh forest air, you relax as you look out across the lake.
"I thought you might like it. It's peaceful. I come out here to think."
"What do you think about? Sorry, is that too personal?"
"No. Just life I guess. I used to be in law enforcement. I retired for my daughter."
"You have a daughter?"
"Yeah, she lives with her mom. We divorced a couple of years back. I have her every other weekend. Sorry, maybe that was too personal." Marcus was always an open book with his clients when he felt that they needed to connect.
"No. I'm interested in what kind of man chooses to spend his weekends like this."
"A broke one if I'm honest. Some of the guys do it for fun. I got into it for the money but it does have its perks."
"Oh yeah?"
"I'm walking on the beach with a beautiful woman on a gorgeous night. What could be better?" The air between you became awkward. "Sorry. That sounded cheesy even to me. Oh, look we're here."
At the perfect moment you arrive at the beach cabin. It looks like a small one bedroomed log cabin. Recently made by your guess.
"This is Joel's handiwork. Working with wood is his passion." Marcus steps aside to allow you to enter the cabin.
The 'one bedroom' description was very accurate. It was literally a bedroom. A large high bed sat in the middle. A door to the left of it and a nightstand stocked with condoms and lube to the right of it.
"So what do we do now? Do we just have sex?"
Marcus gave you an adorable shy smile. "If that's what you want. How would you like to…"
"I don't know. It's been a while. I'm assuming the part still fit in the same way but I'm nervous about feeling comfortable in my body and want to do..to you."
"You don't have to do anything to me. I'll take care of everything."
The bed was soft but not as soft as Marcus's hands on your hips. His thumbs stroked circles on your bare flesh. His head was currently under your skirt. With your concerns about being naked in front of him he'd simply worked about your dress. Slipping your panties off to give him access before licking you intimately. It was better than you remembered and far better than any toy you had bought to satisfy your urges. His tongue had dipped inside you a couple of times before teasing your clit with kitten licks. A soft whine emanates from you when he brings you to a subdued orgasm.
Embarrassment wells inside you as he emerges with your slick covering his face. He made you feel so good yet you barely made a sound. He must be used to woman who scream his name not repressed woman who are terrified to utter a moan in case their neighbours hear.
"Was that good? You seem a little tense."
Marcus observes.
"It was. Very good. I just…I'm a little uptight naturally I guess."
"I can understand that. A few of the guys here tease me for that. Is there anything I can do to help you with that? How can I put you at ease?"
"No one will come out here, will they?"
"No, the party is still going on. I've booked the room so there's no need for them to."
"Could we put that radio on?"
"Sure, anything in particular you want?"
"No, something soft and can you turn it up?"
Marcus picked a soft Spanish station. The light guitar melody filled the air as he returned to you.
"Do you want me to make love to you now?"
"Yes. Marcus? Where would you like me to touch you?"
"I'll let you know."
Marcus eaes his pants down just far enough to free his sizable erection. Seeing you flinch he makes sure to add a generous amount of lube over the condom.
"Here we go." He pushes inside you like you're made of tissue paper. A slow gentle slide like he's afraid to rip you in two until he's fully inside you.
A strangled gasp cuts from you.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes. I just forgot how good that was."
"Hopefully, it will just get better."
When he sees you forget how to breathe with his first thrust. He takes your hands in his holding them on the bed. "Just breathe."
The warmth of him filling you up is incredible. None of your toys can replicate this either. Or his kisses on your shoulder. A moan drifts out of you as you give yourself over to him. Willing yourself to untense and let him give you the satisfaction you came for.
As your body welcomes him, he speeds up. "Oh, that's it. You're taking me so well."
As Marcus lifts off of you slightly he strikes a new angle inside you. "Oh! Marcus."
"My name sounds so beautiful from your lips. Say it again for me, please?" He pumps his hips at the same angle.
"Oh, Marcus! Marcus!" The volume of your voice startles you but he is making you want to scream his name. Anyone in ear shot be damned. Your legs come up around his waist. Shifting you slightly he sinks deeper.
"Oh, yes! God!" Your head is thrown back into the pillows. You're sure that you look possessed. Wild and feral but you can't seem to care as he pounds into you. "Marcus. Marcus. Marcus." All shame leaves you as he builds another orgasm deep inside you. This one almost takes your breath with its intensity and it hasn't even crested yet.
Suddenly it does. "Marcus. Oh, yes. Marcus. Yes!"
"Oh, oh. I'm gonna…ooooh." Marcus adds a few moans of his own as he fills the condom.
Deciding to end the night on a high, that is where your time at the motel ends. Marcus sees you out. A cab picks you up from the front desk.
As Marcus waves you off Dave appears from his room. "Drove one away already Pike? That's a new record." He calls as he descends the stairs.
Marcus usually tries to rise above the barbs but seeing you bloom for him has his pride high. "Was the last record held by you and your stunning people skills?" He snipes at Dave.
"If I send them away it's for medical attention. I just had another one pass out on me." Dave calmly lights a cigarette as Marcus's head whips up his room. "Relax, Boy Scout. She's fine. Kyle's given her the once over. She apparently hadn't squirted before."
Dave finished half his cigarette before stubbing it out against the and throwing it in the trash. "Anyway it means I get to pull a double shift. You coming?"
Max and his wife watch from the office as the two of them walk away.
Marcus takes a last longing look after your cab before heading back to the party.
"I'm surprised we've made it this long with all the testosterone in this place." She teased him.
"Mi Amor, with you handpicking these men, how could we go wrong?"
#pedro pascal character fanfiction#marcus moreno#marcus moreno x f!reader#maxwell lord#oberyn martell#joel miller#marcus pike#dieter bravo#it just keeps getting better
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as always when i get Too Into a Thing i gotta make some ocs for it SO please put your hands together for:
The Birdcatchers, my fantasy high oc party! they’re currently level 12 juniors like the bad kids :D
(called the birdcatchers cause due to some shenaniganery and japes they spent their first day meeting each other while chasing after a flock of birds that had stolen their possessions)
OUR CAST:
Malory Clara Dorothy Eleanor Mildmay, (she/her), Warforged Storm Sorcerer. Basically an Enid Blyton/post-WW2 English boarding school girl dropped into an 80s American high school setting and is having a Bad Time. she is excessively polite, uses honourifics copiously, is deeply nervous and a very good liar. doesn’t talk much about her family.
Zeke Ambercrown, (he/him), Way of the Drunken Master Monk Satyr. very lithe jock kid, plays bloodrush, a lot smarter than he lets on. learnt the monk technique from his family, who love him dearly. lives at the Ambercrown brewery and enjoys experimenting with different fermenting processes to make new drinks - loves chemistry, but is willing to play the ‘dumb jock’ so he can be underestimated. following the events of their freshman year, zeke opened up the older, disused secondary brewery and worked to transform it into a place for everyone to live, work, and be safe.
Trib Ferrier, (they/them), Oath of Vengeance Goblin Paladin. very serious, and comes from a long line of Jesters. considered a disappointment to their lineage, they have instead taken on a blood oath against a rival house of dreaded Mimes to redeem themself in the eye of their family. picture the smallest goblin possible with Hugemassive eyes, the aura of a depressed businessman, and the attire of a court jester. bells and all.
Talaria (Tally) Beira, (she/her), College of Whispers High Elf Bard. tally is a prankster and a bit of a shithead, plays the bass as her channeling tool for her magic (resents being compared to Fig, as in Tally’s eyes she’s been playing the bass way longer than Fig). badly split-dyed hair, jean jacket, and missing half of one ear, she loves nothing more than planning out a good prank. despite this, she’s a terrible coward and is loathe to face consequences for her actions. she hates this part of herself but doesn’t know how to change it. but hey funny water bucket on door sick bass riff right!! haha that’s funny right!! right?
Orfeo Ravocrath, (he/him), Grave Cleric/Phantom Rogue White Dragonborn. despite being a six and a half foot tall white dragonborn wearing a black cowboy hat, orfeo is pretty hard to spot. when he wants to be seen, though, he’s seen - he’s got that southern charm, chill personality, and is also a perfect priest of death, and also seems to be the most popular of the birdcatchers. he’s a little bemused by this, as all he really wants is to go with the flow and doesn’t much care about popularity (which infuriates some of his party members to no end). rumour goes, though, that he’s not actually a cowboy - just a theatre kid who’s really, really method.
Rose Orry, (she/her), Ancestral Guardians Barbarian Tiefling. rose comes from a prestigious house of fashion designers, and she’s never seen without her signature sunglasses. she’s a classic mean bitch, vain about her appearance and prideful about her fashion designing talents, and the most annoying thing about her is that she’s actually really fucking good. beneath that bubblegum-pink, knife-sharp exterior, though, seems to be a normal high school student, forced to grow up too soon and terrified of never finding her true love.
these are the Greachurs and i love them dearly. might try to draw them soon <3 more of a ref post for me anyways
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😺 for veronica sawyer and the heathers
Absolutely!
prompt:😺 An animal related headcanon
Veronica:
Veronica LOVES animals.
She has a tabby cat named JFK.
JFK only likes Veronica.
He will hiss and bite at her parents if they try to get close to him.
JFK HATES Heather Chandler
She also likes insects. She continuously begs her parents to let her get a pet tarantula. Her mother absolutely refuses.
When Veronica was younger, she would collect spiders, beetles, and praying mantis in jars and plastic terrariums.
She would draw them and give them names.
Heather Chandler:
Chandler and JFK are Mortal Enemies.
Chandler doesn't appreciate when Veronica pays attention to JFK instead of her when they hang out.
She will passive-aggressively sigh and drape herself across Veronica's bed.
Veronica always tells her that it's completely unreasonable for her to be jealous of a cat
Heather insists that Veronica loves JFK more than her (notably something her girlfriend never actually denies)
Other than JFK, Chandler is not fond of animals. At All.
She thinks they're dirty and loud
However, she is definitely more of a cat person
Dogs are too happy and peppy for her taste
She appreciates and relates to the cold aloofness that cats exude.
If she did ever have a cat, she would probably have a white maine coon.
That cat would be the meanest fucking animal alive
It would be a female, and it would have a red bow collar/a red leather bell collar
Something extra like that
Its name would be something strange and kind of outlandish. Yet like still feminine.
Like Lilith or Opal. Maybe even Lucifer/Satan lmao
I imagine Heather Chandler would be like actually an awful pet owner though so the chances of her actually getting a cat are slim to none.
Heather Duke:
Heather has a snake. I don't have proof, but I can feel it in my
bones.
She has either a smooth green snake or a rainbow boa (look them up they're pretty neat)
Its name would be something like Medusa
Heather McNamara gets/makes little hats for her snake.
Duke reluctantly allows this simply to humor her girlfriend
So far, the snake has a top hat, a cowboy hat, and a little pinwheel hat.
Duke finds this incredibly asinine.
She definitely also has a black cat or a black teacup poodle maybe both
idk I just get a vibe she seems like a small dog person
Also more of a cat person
If she does have a black cat its name would probably be something like Ophelia or something fancy and sophisticated like that. (probably named after a classical literature
Heather McNamara:
Heather Mac also loves animals a lot, however she's more traditional with the animals she likes
She has a golden retriever and a golden doodle
The retriever is named Butterscotch
the golden doodle is named Curly
JFK mildly tolerates Mac (this is a point of great pride for her).
Her dogs are highly trained. They can shake, play dead, speak, also that fancy stuff
Her dogs have A LOT of clothing
Sweaters, tutus, vests, harnesses, ties, bowties, hats, you name it they have it
They usually wear a bandana or a custom collar though.
The dogs love Duke, much to the girl's chagrin
They demand she play fetch, rub her belly, anything
She half-heartedly complies after she sees how happy it makes Mac
Secretly Duke loves Mac's dogs
Mainly because Butterscotch and Curly remind her of her girl friend
#heathers headcanons#heathers the musical#heathers#heathers the movie#heather mcnamara#heather duke#heather chandler#veronica sawyer#chansaw#mcduke#veronica sawyer x heather chandler#heather mcnamara x heather duke#chandlamara
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November F1c Prompts Day 2
Day 2 - Taste (sour)
The bar in Austin is about half full; it’s a bit of a dive, but in a comfortable, lived in kind of way. It’s a far cry from the glitz of the paddock but you don’t necessarily think that’s a bad thing (not this year, anyway). Daniel seems determined to have a good time in Austin, at least, but you can see the close way Michael and Blake are watching him, the relief that you’re able to join them for the last few races of the season.
“I said, howdy in there.” You look up to meet Daniel’s eyes and give him a wan smile, turn your head to kiss his palm when he brushes your cheek. “Are you alright?”
You reach up and take his cowboy hat, drop it onto your own head at a jaunty angle. “Never better partner.”
It makes him grin and step in closer, draping an arm over your shoulders to draw his hand up and down your back. “Glad to hear it. Let me get you a drink?” Sensing your protest he adds immediately; “You can get the next one.”
“What are you having?”
He hums speculatively. “Maybe…a whiskey sour.”
“Sounds delightful.”
“Two whiskey sours, coming up.” Daniel drops a kiss on the top of your head, squeezes you closer for a moment. “I’m really glad you could come. Missed you.”
You don’t point out that it hasn’t been that long since you went to Perth, that you only missed a couple of races; it feels like it has been, and you missed him too. More, perhaps, for staying in Perth with his family without him there (not for any reason other than he’s so much like all of them). “Missed you too, cowboy.”
-
After the race the taste in your mouth is acrid. There’s no camaraderie in the garage (and you’ve known them all along the way, in some form or another), and even Michael’s mouth is a thin line.
You want to cry, hearing his interview. Though crying would be the bare minimum; what you really want to do is pitch an absolute fit, scream that it’s not fair, and nobody’s seen because he’s been so careful to not let anyone see. It had taken you months to coax it out of him. But you can see the mask cracking in how wide and shining bright his brown eyes are, the way he trips over his words.
He stumbles back against the door in his driver’s room when he returns, let’s his head thunk back against it too heavily.
“Baby.” You open your arms to him (part offer, part demand). “Come here.” You prompt when he doesn’t move immediately.
“That was so shit.” He says into your collarbone, voice thick. And then, after a beat; “Would’ve been better off with the fucking horse.”
“You still would’ve beaten one of the horses too.”
He snorts with laughter in spite of himself, and you try not to feel like it’s a victory to make him laugh in the face of it all.
Daniel sighs, afternoon shadow of his beard tickling your neck. “I hope they’re not all like this. I didn’t think...” He hesitates and you squeeze him like a prompt to continue. “I didn’t think I’d go out hating it. It’s not s’posed to leave a sour taste.”
“Darling.” You pull back and put both hands on the side of his face, tilt his head up to look at you. “You’re not going out. You’re prioritising your mental health.” You kiss one cheek. “And you have a plan.” And then the other. “And nobody can take away what you know about yourself. And what your people know about you. No matter how loud they are about it.”
He makes a noise of affirmation and turns his head to kiss your palm. “Thank you.” He says quietly. “Be lost without you, bub.”
#f1 fanfic#daniel ricciardo fanfic#November f1c prompts#daniel ricciardo x reader#formula 1 imagine#f1 imagine#daniel ricciardo x you#daniel ricciardo imagine#f1blr#daniel ricciardo fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 driver x reader#f1 driver x you#formula 1 x reader
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May I request Texas art and maybe hc’s? 👁️👁️
*not forcing <3*
Why of course my good sir!
Here he is! Here’s the guy! I didn’t really feel like doing full body so I didn’t lol. And I tooootally didn’t look up how to draw a cowboy hat because I had no idea how to… nooo, never… (I’ve never drawn him before, so his appearance may change a bit in the future)
Onto the hc’s, I do have a few for our cowboy here!
— He definitely has a blanket that’s also his state flag (I’m not sure if this is cannon, but I’ve seen it in so many fics it might as well be lol)
— He has a gun collection, as well as a few other states, and they like showing off their gun collections to each other.
— His rivalry with Oklahoma is more of a petty rivalry that turned into just a habit than an actual hate/dislike (not to say they don’t dislike each other, it’s just nowhere near what his and Cal’s rivalry is)
— He likes birds. I have no idea where this came from, but it’s not leaving. My man likes his birds
— He’ll say his favorite color is something “manly” like red or something, but it’s not. He likes sky-blue, lavender, and pink (he’d drown himself in toilet water before ever admitting it though)
— He has asthma. I came up with this as I was thinking about my hc’s for him literally like 3 minutes ago. My brain was just like “this guy cannot breathe well” and you know what? Sure. He cannot breathe well. (There has definitely been a time when he was in a heated argument with someone at the table but then just doubled over and started wheezing/gasping for air (asthma attack) and was like “Hold on— *Wheeze* gimme a second. *Wheeze* Someone plea— *Wheeze* —se get me my— *Wheezing continues* damn inhaler!!”)
— So it’s cannon that Texas is a system, but I’m pretty sure we’ve only seen him and Austin. My Texas’s system is comprised of Texas, Austin, Huston, San Antonio, and maybe Dallas (haven’t decided yet)
— Shatter glass near him (especially by dropping it) and he will have a panic attack. I mean like, full on sobbing “Nononono please I’m sorry whatever I did I’m sorry please don’t” as he backs up as much as he can and then just sinks to the ground waiting to get hit (fuck you Mexico)
— Speaking (typing? Writing?) of Mexico, he was very abusive. Texas has so many scars (emotional and physical) that came from him. Sometimes Tex still finds himself thinking it was all his fault (as per Mexico would always tell him)
— He has nightmares, frequently. He usually just ends up staring at the ceiling or crying himself back to sleep after a nightmare.
— He was close with California before. They had a big (huge) fight and they haven’t been the same ever since. He wishes he could take back all he said, go back and fix everything, apologize, be close to him again, but he can’t. (He can, he’s debated going over and apologizing for everything many times, he always backs down because “there’s no way he’d forgive me, he’d laugh in my face and slam the door.” (He would not. Cal also wishes he could take back all he said and apologize and fix everything, but they’re both stupid and think the other will be mad at them))
Hmmm, I think this is all for now! I love traumatizing my blorbos, don’t you?
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