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L.A. CONFIDENTIAL (1997) dir. Curtis Hanson

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the idea of a rodeo is just making me think of maria taking & putting on a cowboy/cowgirls' hat if shes dating / flirting with them im sorry shes all for the whole "take the hat, ride the cowboy" thing i fear -

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“You’ve ruined peaches for me. I can’t eat one without thinking of your hands dipping into my soft flesh, mouth dripping, teeth skimming across skin, tongue lapping at the excess: greedy, greedy, greedy. I am all rush and blush at a summer picnic lunch, hands shaking at the farmer’s market.”

— Trista Mateer, “Peaches” (via oofpoetry)

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I love you bite marks I love you hickeys I love you fingertip-shaped bruises I love you scratchmarks down the back and shoulders I love you lasting, tangible proof of passion and desire and ownership

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@johnnyssexytimes / the lil' kissie prompt <3

there's a twinkle in his eye. the warm breeze of texas air that surrounds them, the rustling of grass, flowers, & the leaves of trees overhead. their spot, they've unspokenly declared, coming back to this spot time & time again. our spot, where a lot of peace lies. there was no fear. there were no worries. they could simply be, from now until the crack of dusk as they watch the sunset. here, there were many memories that were shared. he remembers the first time they came here -- a sign of trust, a sign of freedom, they chatted a bit. his head leaned against her, then. how time has passed since. how it feels like a distant dream -- because MEMORY, it was not distant, it was not something far off. no. it was still vivid as now. maybe it was the time where they knew they wouldn't get caught. where seeds were planted & kisses yearned to be shared, each & every time. it never fails. they always ended up with their hands on one another within the hour. he craved her. maybe it was love. he always acted on his craving. always giving her an eye up & down, seeing if she wants it too. a lean in, his calloused hand that finds itself drawing to the back of her neck to draw her in, encourage her closer & closer until their lips meet, dancing a familiar tango. they know how this will end. it always starts with these heated kisses. it felt right. it felt like it was right where they needed to be, not just where they wanted to be. johnny shifts to move himself to face her more, feeling her move too. his other hand reaches around her, touching at the crook of her back, lowering -- his hand did always wander -- grabbing tenderly at her ass. come here, comes a soft growl laced within the kiss. he feels her shift, feels her rise, feels her presence encompass him, his hands guiding her to sit on his lap, shifting to lean against the tree, lips that part to allow her to catch her breath. his brown eyes look between her hazel ones, a soft smile that rises to his face. his hand brushes from the back of her neck forward to cup her cheek, a thumb that caresses rounded cheek. funny how the wolf becomes a poor, lovesick puppy. ❛ so goddamn beautiful, babygirl. ❜

tops and stems of flowers were left strewn across blanket, fallen petals and leaves picking up by the wind, frolicking about across blanket-top, snaking between blades of grass. her handiwork set off at arms length away — crown of flowerheads half-weaved together, forgotten about, now, when maria climbed atop his lap, settling thighs on either side of his.

in recent trips out here, under the shade of the tree overhead, she knew the moment the route they drove along started to become familiar all over again — the turn down the backroad, shrouded by trees, overgrowth, tucked safely out of sight from prying eyes.

their spot, nestled someplace quiet and secluded, with fields of flowers blooming around them. someplace peaceful, someplace they call their own — the sight of that hidden little turn off the main road, stirred a warmth in her every time. made her heart go a few beats faster.

the shack itself wasn't left out, at least not entirely. its wood-paneled walls got to bear witness to some moments shared between them. hungry kisses, roaming hands—

never much further than that, however. not the right place, he'd say. cut things short. she'd never minded, truly, being there — he insisted on someplace better, though.

it was always in the eyes though, wasn't it? unspoken hints. gaze that passed one another over — whether shack, or out here, under the tree. someplace else on the property. maria was shyer than johnny was — about when that certain type of frustration began to be too much to ignore. but she's started picking up on his more subtle hints . . . at least, she thinks so. when she feels his eyes fall on her, while shes out picking at flowers to bring back to the blanket laid out for them both, follow her around. how she notices, in peripherals, the up and down glances. she was becoming less of a stranger to them; less flustered into timidness. when she now meets his eyes with her own, and a set away of the flowers in her hands says perfectly fine that her attentions' turned to him.

inevitable, really, with their track record so far. she couldn't recall the last visit out here where she hadn't turned herself further towards him as his hand came to meet her, in some manner — where she hadn't closed that space between them to meet his lips. melt into them at the feel of roughened fingertips grazing along her skin. it never took much for those kisses to deepen. tastes the bitterness of beer lingering on his lips, sometimes the smokiness of his cigarettes. the bite of mint. she found herself growing used to the taste — supposed she simply enjoyed his lips against her own too much to care.

the low rumble seeped into his voice always dizzied her thoughts, and there she's found herself once again — with his hands grasping at her, pulling her, somehow, closer against himself when she'd settled on his lap. hands that trailed along thighs, up hips — dragging along fabric of her dress, riding thin layers higher off bare skin.

—broken kiss made her brows furrow, only brief, easing when she met his eyes, when they lower to his lips, and her own slowly beam at the sight of little smile across his face.

he was always pretty when he smiled.

smile grows as his voice fills what little space there was between them both — poses back at him, voice an ever-soft hum as she feels a shiver run through her, as roughened hand moves along to press against her cheek, " am i . . ? " cheek is rested further into his palm with a slight tilt of her head, dimple partly hidden behind his hand. a turn of her head and her lips brush along his palm, pressing a soft kiss against him.

curious, she poses another as a hand draws up between them, resting against back of his. " i'm not sure i believe you . . . " laying another kiss against his thumb, and another to his palm again — hazels meet back to dark, dark browns. her hips roll, rocking down against his. not breaking that contact. her voice softer, airy, " think you could show me, baby . . ? "

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Belt loops were invented so I could pull your hips against mine

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backshots in a sundress with no panties on

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the idea of someone strong enough to actually physically lift me up and down on their cock makes my brain shut down

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finger fuck me and tell me you love me and i’m your pretty girl…please

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via weheartit

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🐇

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maybe you should let me kiss along your happy trail for awhile