#country x reader

[magicalbunbun]

I’m now thinking about what a y/n in country humans would look like

Is more like Antarctica trio

Nicknames:

Male y/n: Atlantis

Female y/n: Elbonia

Non-binary y/n: Laputa

[hetaliatrashlife]

Fear of the Unknown - (Aph!America x Reader)

Hey guys, a longfic here I decided to fix up from my drafts! - 3,500 Words (Will hopefully be a second part if wanted!)

WARNING - Foul Languages and depictions of Kidnap, proceed with caution! 

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Awaking to the feeling of warmth, knowing that where I laid my head the night before definitely wasn't a warm and comforting place, sitting up quickly on edge as you were on a serious under cover mission and couldn't risk dawdling around. Throwing the covers off of you feeling around what you assumed to be the motels bedside table for your glasses, putting them on quickly, you felt the arms of someone wrap around you and snuggle into your back. You stiffened up, throwing the assailant out of bed and onto the floor, pinning his arm behind his back and shouting, "WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?" with a grunt, he turned to face you, vision still blurry due to the dim light, "(Y/N)...it's me? " Your eyes widened, how was your target here in bed with you? A literal hitman you'd been chasing most of your career, was just underneath you, you picked him up and pinned him to the wall, his back hitting with a loud thud as he winced, his face covered in concern and confusion, "Don't play dumb Jones, why in the world are you in my room huh? You're coming with me! " He grabbed your wrists before you could even try to begin placing the cuffs on him, "I don't know what's wrong with you, but I am a cop-", She looked at him and began laughing, "Is this another ruse? Another ploy huh? Impersonating a cop, what sick games are you up to now? " You ripped yourself from his grasp, disgusted by his touch. Alfred could do nothing but analyse the woman before him, she looked exactly like his partner (Y/N), but there was something about her...the usual vibrance in her eyes diminished to nothing but anger and hatred, Alfred knew it was directly pointed at him, his heart ached a little even amidst the confusion he disliked the thought of you hating him, "(Y/N)...I think you need to sit-", "STOP TALKING TO ME LIKE THAT! You don't get to be sweet with me you prick." Her words oozed hatred, with each glare Alfred felt his heart pang, "Please, can I explain something to you! " Her gaze didn't soften, but her grip on him sure did, especially when she began analysing the room, it definitely wasn't the cheap run down motel she had been staying in the night previously, this was more homely and sweet, "Did you genuinely kidnap me Jones? Trying to live out some fantasy? " She crossed her arms, still standing infront of him still cornering him into the wall, Alfred had never seen this sort of look from his partner, let alone the woman he loved and he knew that she was serious, the thoughts of amnesia quickly dissapated out of his mind when he saw your clothes, a shaggy black hoody, black ripped tank top stained to high hell, black skin tight jeans and scuffed combat boots laced up to the knee. You looked exhausted, almost worn down but there was still that fire in you, a fire he knew all too well. Alfred lifted his hands up slowly, moving to turn the light on and as he did you blinked a few times, to accustom yourself to the brightness, "Look (Y/N)...I think you're (Y/N) anyway, I'm Alfred Jones yes, but I work for the NYPD and I'm far from a wanted man..." You scoffed at him, "I hate liars." You grabbed your gun and pointed it straight at him, he waved his hands infront of him as he rushed into the draw from the cabinet you'd just picked your glasses up off, he grabbed a badge and slowly handed it to you, "Please just look, it's all legit you can even call my superior..." You raised an eyebrow as you snatched the ID badge, still holding the gun with one hand pointed at him, "Do you mind putting that do-", "No. Until I can prove you're some sort of replica and not the actual Jones I'm looking for you'll deal with it, okay? " Her words weren't questioning in any sense, they were orders...commands and the emotion behind them made Alfred shut up real quick. As you inspected the ID, he drank you in, your nails were chipped...brittle almost, your hair unkempt in a messy poytail, Alfred wondered how he'd allowed her to just over power him like this but then again...she was YOU...she even answered to your name, he couldn't bring himself to harm you even if it wasn't the you he remembered.

Peering down at the ID, your eyes widening in shock as he must've been telling the truth, all the details were there...but you couldn't trust him, thinking it could be a fake ID badge you knew you had one last safety check, making your way over to the side table next to Alfred once more and picking up the phone, dialling with one hand the number to his super intendant, "Hello, is this Mr Kirkland? " A british tone made it's way through the speaker, "Hello, yes it is. What can I help you with? " Your eyes shot wide, this was your...boss? But he sounded sweet, almost soothing, not like the rough englishman you grew up with, "E-Ermm...", "(Y/N) is that you? What's bloody happened? " Thinking exactly the same you shook your head, eyes darting straight at Alfred, "I'm not (Y/N), I bumped into your colleague and I just wanted to make sure that a Mr Alfred Jones is employed with you? " Her heart raced, head spinning almost as she came to the realisation that this...this wasn't her reality, it couldn't be. Things were too bright, too nice it seemed. "Well yes, of course he is why would you ask? " It felt like your world had been shattered, you were in some dream it seemed, the same man who had brutally killed people all over the USA was employed by the NYPD? Your hardened gaze fell slightly, the fear apparant as you placed the phone on the reciever, "I-I...I don't know what to think..." Your world had shattered in seconds, pinching yourself to make sure this was real and not some deluded nightmare your brain had convuluted from forgotten past memories. You walked up to the man still stood by the wall, your hand reached up to his face and gently rubbed his cheek, he seemed to invite the warmth of your touch but before he could reminisce you pulled back, "I...I don't know what sort of fucked up place I'm in, but me and you we're enemies...I've been hunting you down since I was eighteen, it's been eight years of constant under cover work and still never being able to stop you...you killed so many people...the piece of you I had from childhood died when I took my first case..." Alfreds eyes widened in horror, disgust even and he couldn't fathom ever being a cold hearted killer, let alone one that does it purely for money. You threw yourself down on the bed, defeated and more than a little torn. Alfred sat next to you, making you jump slightly he waved his hands infront of him once more, "Hey, I know the Alfred you deal with is like that but I seem to be the complete opposite...I understand you might be a little scared of me, but I want to help you find where you belong and I'd also like to find my (Y/N)-" He heard you laugh sorrowfully, "Your (Y/N) huh?...It's hard to imagine myself ever getting with you, no offence..." He smiled slightly, "None taken dude, now let's get changed and sort some kind of game plan out yeah? " You still couldn't believe this was Alfred, I mean you could because it reminded you of the piece of Alfred you hid deep down and kept under lock and key, the sweet caring boy he was before whatever happened snapped him into the evil monster he was now. But looking this Alfred up and down made your chest heave, "This is what I could of had huh? " You whispered to yourself, your eyeline boring into the carpet beneath you with so much intense sadness Alfred couldn't contain his emotions as he wrapped you in a hug, his hands gripping you so tightly as if he was scared you’d slip through them, your body once more stiffened up against his touch as it was so alien to you, "S-Sorry, it's just you look almost identical to my (Y/N) and I would always comfort her...if you don't like it, I can get off? " You felt tears prick at your eyes, they fell in heaps landing on clenched hands beneath you, succumbing to the comforting warmth of his touch, almost envious that another version of you got to enjoy each and every moment with him. Your eyes soon made their way to Alfred, noticing the man was..."E-Ermm...I am so sorry, but would you mind getting some clothes on?..." Your face heated up within seconds, the mans chiselled body so close to you, with each scar telling a story that you could only begin to imagine. "O-Oh I'm so sorry, of course!" He quickly parted from you, his touch lingering on your skin making it yearn for more. Seeing Alfred be this kind to you sent you into a whirlwhind, after spending most of your career chasing after the same man stood before you...but this wasn't him was it, it was the better version...the version you desperately begged for all these years, you couldn't help but satiate this fantasy for just a little while longer. You watched as he grabbed a couple of things from a dresser then throwing them at you, you couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at him, "You look like you need a change of clothes and i'm more than sure you'll both be the same size..." You nodded quietly, unable to meet his gaze whilst he was still practically naked, "Thank you...", "You can call me something like a nickname if it's more comfortable for you? How about Alfie?" Eyes widening at the nickname, "I-I can't...Jones seems just fine for now..." He scratched the back of his neck, guessing that you had nicknamed your Alfred that too before he went all psycho killer, "Well I'll leave you to get dressed, meet me downstairs in the kitchen and I'll cook us up some breakfast." You nodded again, thoughts still whirring around in your head, 'What's happening?' 'When will I wake up?' You heard the door softly close and lock into place, as soon as it did you finally allowed yourself to breathe a deep sigh, painful almost gasping for air. You couldn't fathom that this is what your life could've been, you peered around the beautifully decorated room stroking your hands across the plush bedding beneath you, knowing that you hadn't felt linen this smooth in a long time. Your eyes stopped on a framed picture on the bedside table, shakily moving your hand towards it knowing just what would be peering back at you...there it was, you and Alfred on a date in a different country, holding eachother close and smiling like the world didn't matter. You watched as drops hit the glass, wiping them away as you stroked Alfred's face, you took a double take at the smiling woman looking back at you, this (Y/N) had shorter well kept hair, she wore brighter clothes and her nails looked so perfectly primed. You stared at yourself in the reflection, not understanding how you drew such a short straw, "She got it all huh? " You chuckled grimly to yourself, placing the picture back on the bedside once more, standing up to assess the clothing you'd been given, a white off the shoulder top with a pair of blue high waisted jeans, "Damn, she really is different..." You hurriedly got dressed, grabbing a pair of socks and your boots as you made your way into the hallway.

Eyes immediately drawn to the hundreds of photo's littered around the place, your heart ached at the smiling face looking back at you...no she was looking down on you, 'You never deserved this...' Your thoughts seeping in again, you shook your head slightly and gave the bridge of your nose a pinch, "I look...so happy..." Your words thickened the air, the envy almost sickening to you...what you would do for this sort of life, one that seemed ever so perfect and happy. Making your way down the smooth carpeted stairs, you turned a corner to be met with another hallway, a certain picture stood out amongst the rest making your stomach churn and bile shoot into your throat, "That's...-", "Oh yeah, that's when we-...I mean me and my (Y/N) went on a camping trip in highschool, she always kept that picture even though I hated it...but now I can't help but look back and see our beginning you know?..." He quickly stopped himself as he saw your body language, you looked defeated and broken, all's the blonde wanted to do was wrap you up in a blanket and protect you, you may not of been his realities (Y/N) but you were still a (Y/N) and he couldn't understand what went so horribly wrong with himself that he left you like this, a shell of a woman who used to be so vibrant so hopeful, your eyes looked bleakly as you grabbed a wallet out of your pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper to reveal the same photo Alfred described to you, "You mean this one?...Yeah I do treasure it, more than he'll ever know..." The picture was stained and slightly torn at the edges, showing just how much use you got out of it, "I...I'm so sorry..." He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, he expected you to flinch away or push him off but you just kind of accepted the gesture, it had been a long while since you'd felt the touch of someone, the feeling of human contact was so rare to you especially with the whole undercover thing, you couldn't make friends and whatever family you did have thought you were probably dead. Your hand reached up slowly and cupped his, squeezing it almost like a lifeline, just wanting to know someone cared about you. "She's very lucky to have you...." Your smile didn't portray happiness, bitter jealousy if anything but the only thing Alfred saw was pain, you turned yourself towards the kitchen doorway as not to see the cherished memory you had once lived through. Alfred's hand pulled back slowly as if he wanted you to know he cared, that he was there for you. "I was lucky...I am lucky...you saved me-" He heard you chuckle dryly, making your way to the pristine modern kitchen you placed yourself at the breakfast bar, "If only you knew what happened in my reality huh? You wouldn't think so highly of me..."

Other Reality (Y/N):

You awoke, the stench of vomit and sweat instantly filling your nostrils like a pungent wake up call, "W-Where am I? " You muttered out, grabbing your glasses and swiftly placing them on your nose, you searched your surroundings. "A Motel? Why an earth would I be here? I must've been kidnapped..." You used your detective skills to assess the room, make sure if it was a kidnapper he wasn't still in the room or on the premises, then the fear set in, "Alfred...he wouldn't of ever let this happen so what if they've got him?!" You couldn't calm your beating heart, everything felt dark and gloomy especially without his bright smile to awaken you, his laughter was always your favourite melody. "No, he's fine. I have to be hopeful, I know he's got this and that whatever's going on he'll save me! " Making your way to the bedside cabinet you spotted some things, a mobile phone and keys, you thought this was your bingo until you saw the password protection, "Shit, they don't even have a background..." Then a text flashed on the screen from a private number, "You're getting colder little mouse, I'm waiting." The tone of the text was sinister, repulsive even. It was like they were hunting you down like prey, a wild animal and this was their hunting ground. You made sure to search the room for supplies, knowing that anything could be left in this godforsaken hell hole. Finding a duffel bag, you ripped it open and saw, "Ammo?...Guns?...Freaks got a whole travel bag, but...if they're leaving it for me are they expecting me to play? I-" You sat yourself on the side of the bed, backtracking everything that happened the night before, falling asleep in Alfred's arms to the feeling of him playing with your hair was the last you remember and then this...you couldn't wrap your head around it, but you knew you had to get out and find your way back to him. Another buzzing sound came from the locked phone, the text reading, "428 Hampton Boulevard. 30MINS." Having no choice but to grab the duffel bag and meet this maniac at his desired location, you knew that with them you'd more than likely find your answer's to the other questions that have been plaguing you. Your eyes fell onto a pile of clothes, grabbing them without hesitation you saw, "Women's?...They're my sizing, they must really have it out for me...to know this-" You shivered thinking of all the times you'd haphazardly left your clothing in places it could be easily picked up and from the looks of it this person knew a lot about you. Throwing the clothes on as quickly as you could you grabbed the duffel bag, throwing it over your shoulder seamlessly, grabbing the keys on the side knowing that if you got pulled over you could always call in to your boss, "I'm sure Artie won't mind covering for me if theres a psycho after me..." Making sure to take the burner phone with you, in case things got too much for you and you had to call the emergency number, Alfred would be so proud of you for facing such a feat head on but you also know he'd be angry for endangering yourself if you have him, you thought to call him but the motel didn't have a phone and the mobile you had wouldn't make calls unless unlocked. You speed walk past the receptionist who gave you a weird look, 'Yeah I'm sure seeing a kidnap victim would make my head turn too love...'

You grabbed the car keys in your hand placing the key between your fingers just in case this creep decided he would rather meet you here, you surveyed the area and didn't spot anything too out of the ordinary. You examined the keys to try and identify what car they'd be used for, they looked eerily similiar and seemed to belong to a car you owned back when you were a teenager so you recognised the car almost immediately..."Red Honda...95 plate..." Eyes widening in shock, this couldn't be right? It looked exactly like your old car down to the busted tail from where you got rear ended by Alfred after he'd just learnt to drive, shaking the thoughts out of your head you pressed onwards not being someone to stray away from a fight especially when it meant you getting closer to being home again, safe in Alfred's arms. Starting the car up was easy, remembering how to drive manual was not though, the brain fog was over bearing from being in fight mode and you honestly couldn't think straight but for some reason as soon as you'd clicked in that belt and revved the car to life, it's like you were teleported to being that sweet naive eighteen year old again, not a care in the world. Staring at the clock you knew you had fifteen minutes left to get to your destination, but fortunately you were perfect with directions and from patrolling that area in downtown new york so often you knew exactly where you were headed. Not bothering to check the car out, knowing that being superstitious would get you nowhere but trouble you headed for the place. The tires screeched beneath you, the car coming to a halting standstill the phone barely alive but just enough in case you needed to dial in an emergency.

Scanning the area for this unknown assailant you couldn't see a thing, it may have only been 7am but it was downtown on a Sunday no one was going to be up and around just yet, atleast not the people you'd want to bump into anyways. You felt something- no someone staring holes into you, your eyes widened spotting a hooded figure in the alleyway, grabbing a gun cautiously you made your way towards the spot, "Hello?..." Quietly you made your way towards the person, gun pressed firmly behind your back finger on the trigger waiting for the perfect moment. This was presumeably a man by the build and height, you heard a chuckle but the feeling of fear was now overcome with that of confusion, you began shaking as you'd only ever heard one person with that specific laugh, "Alfred?..." Before you had time to react or to question the person before you, you felt a rag slam into your face the sweet stench of chlorophorm filling your every sense, your gun shooting as you pulled the trigger almost on instinct, pain searing up your leg knowing full well you'd just shot yourself, your eyes began to glaze over in realisation, this was Alfred...but it couldn't be? Struggling with the man as he kicked your newly bleeding leg, dropping the gun shaking you used the last of your strength to throw your hands up and around his face, knocking his hood down to show his face...you froze with fright shaking uncontrollably now, this was Alfred...but he didn't look the same? He was glaring daggers at you, grinning from ear to ear, a large scar adorning his once fresh face, the beautiful cerulean eyes that gave you peace of mind now dim with zero emotion, he pulled you against him tightly almost suffocating you, "I've got you my little mouse..." He almost purred into your ear, your eyes welling up with tears as darkness overcame you. Awaking what felt like moments later, your eyes shot open darting across the scenery before you, your arms writhing beneath the sturdy ropes that pinned you into what seemed to be a chair of some sorts, your eyes landed on the man sat infront of you still grinning like a cheshire cat, "Naughty girl, I didn't think you'd come running...you never usually do but then again you don't look how you usually do..." He stood up, distain spread across his face as he ripped your mouth piece off with little to any thought, "Who...who the fuck are you?!" He leaned in close, the smell of booze permeating his breath as he spoke, "Why...I could ask the same of you? "

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Thank you for getting this far, I posted this as it’s the first thing I’ve written in a long time that I’m actually proud to post, I’ll be sure to add part 2 as it’s already written if people want it! 

I hope you have a wonderful Evening // Morning! ;3;

[wriothesleybear]

Outlaw!Boothill x Saloongirl!reader headcanons

~warnings: slight mentions of jealousy, stealing, and western stand offs that involve guns, shooting a man. Otherwise, mentions of flirting, nicknames, cheesy pickup lines from our favorite robot cowboy, pre-release Boothill, fem!reader.

~a/n: Just a quick little something due to @the-guardian-kitsune wanting me to share my thoughts on Mr. Robot Cowboy. Boothill's leaks are invading my mind while I wait for the update today. His ultimate...omg its so good! Is it bad that I get tingles when I hear the whip in his animation?

Outlaw!Boothill is the most fearsome outlaw in the town. Everyone runs to close their shops and doors when he comes into town. He's usually harassing the town sheriff with his buddies or robbing people. If someone gets on his nerves and actually has the guts to try and stand up to him, it likely ends in a stand off.

Outlaw!Boothill spends his time flirting with you when he's not busy stealing and holding up stagecoaches and trains. Always goes to your saloon, specifically for you. No one else really captured his eye except for you. Plus most of the other saloon girls are scared of him. For some reason, you're not. Hence, making him take interest in you. While everyone usually steers clear of him, you aren't afraid to talk to him.

How you guys met was he stomped his way into your saloon one day, looking for some whiskey. Seeing the most wanted outlaw, your other customers immediately fled. He plops himself down in a chair, kicking his boots up onto the table, waving his hand for a drink. "Hey little lady, you mind gettin' me some whiskey. Neat." You were already annoyed at this cowboy storming his way in your saloon, scaring your customers off and ruining your business.

Boothill looks up and notices you haven't moved from your spot behind the counter. Instead, you're crossing your arms and giving him an annoyed look. He glares at you. "Did you hear me darlin'? Whiskey. Neat." You don't move an inch, returning his glare and simply say no. He's caught a bit off guard for a second. He's used to people being too scared to stand up to him. "No?" He gets up, slowly walking towards the bar where you're at. "Do you know who I am." He points to the wanted sign on the wall nearby, his face adorns the flier. You glance at it. "Yeah. And? I don't serve rude customers. Either learn some manners or get out." Now he's thrown off his high horse. He's never had someone call him out like you did. You expected him to become more hostile, but instead, he just laughs. "Alright little lady." Since that day, he's been attracted to you. He likes the way you aren't afraid to stand up for yourself and speak your mind, especially towards him. He likes the 'feisty little lady that you are'. His own words that he used when he first asked you out.

Outlaw!Boothill teases you to get you worked up on purpose. If you really want to get him to shut up, call him "Bootie". The first time you called him that, you swear you saw his cheeks go red. Knowing the effect the nickname has on him, you use it when you're not in the mood for his teasing. But the times when you get so annoyed at his teasing that you angrily walk away, he uses his whip to grab you, pulling you right back into his arms and dipping you. Your heart skips a beat as he lowers his head to yours. You hold your breath while at a loss for words as he says, "Now where do you think you're going little lady?"

Outlaw!Boothill gets jealous when other men try to swoon you or check you out in your little saloon outfit. He is a protective boyfriend and is the type to defend your honor. So when he sees someone harassing you, he either challenges them to a stand off or he just straight up takes care of them right there in the saloon. Ugh just imagine: watching as the two men take 10 paces in opposite directions as everyone watches from the sidelines. Nerves invade your senses, worries cloud your mind about the men fighting over you. You don't want anyone to get hurt especially Boothill. Then, at the end of the countdown, both men quickly turn to each other, guns raised and they go off. Boothill is left standing as the other man falls to the floor. He walks over to you as you're left in shock. "Now darlin'. How about a kiss for your cowboy?"

Outlaw!Boothill who spoils you with his attention and gifts (which he probably stole). He gets a bit annoyed and offended when you don't accept his gifts, saying how he shouldn't steal things from others. It just goes over his head and he says "Darlin', I think you're the real criminal here since you stole my heart." This usually shuts you up. Your cheeks turn red as he smirks. Turning away from him, you quietly say, "Just.. go easy on stealing gifts for me, Bootie." He ignores your signature nickname for him and turns you to face him. Pulling you close to his chest, he says, "Whatever you say, darlin'." He gives you his signature shark tooth smile. He would never admit it but he's whipped for you. No pun intended.

[joelssgirll]

day dreamin’ about everyone’s favorite old man.

[realangelahernandez]

When he’s written by Lana del Rey

[fandomnerd9602]

Inspired by a story found here

Country!Wanda approaches Y/N at a booth…

Wanda: what’ll it be, darling?

Y/N: I’ll have the steak and eggs for dinner, thank you kindly.

Wanda: mmm…what’ll you have for desert?

Y/N: how offended would you be if I said you?

Wanda: my shift ends in an hour, baby. I’ll wait up for you

Wanda gives a wink and turns to head back to the kitchen…

For @lifespectator

[madelynraemunson]

— along for the ride ☆

🐃 the tag team (co-writers): @joshlmbrt @swiss-mrs @mediocredreams 🩶

eddie x fem!reader

a/n: reading flight of icarus and finding out eddie is from tennessee REALLY husked my corn 🤠 also, this may or may not have been inspired by the bull fight scene in hoard

cw: daydream p in v sex, riding, eddie gets a hard on watching reader ride, innuendos, play on words

Stamina. Strength. Strategy. Safety. The Four Important S’s when it comes to bull-riding. 

‘Support’ is your unofficial fifth. You’ve generated quite the following after showcasing your riding skills at Whisky Jim’s every Saturday night, the ooohs and aaahs of your spectators filling the air as the spotlight drenches your cute… calculated… perspiring body. 

Bull-riding at the dive bar every weekend has become a favorite hobby of yours. It’s a perfect outlet for all the stress, the rough-and-tough of it all perfectly counterbalancing your slow-as-snails, but somehow busy and draining 9 to 5. Riding gave you something to look forward to.

“Look at her go,” an onlooker coos in admiration. “She’s got life by the goddamn horns.”

You toss your head back, glossy lips parted in excitement as the crowd’s appreciative hoots and whistles filled the air.  You could get used to this. You have gotten used to this.

Even with the world at your feet, things were starting to get boring again. And you are constantly craving something wild, something new. Something or someone that will make like the bull by sweeping you off your feet and taking you out for a spin.

Someone like Eddie Munson, perhaps.

Eddie isn’t sure what drew him… here out of all places. But something about the rowdiness compels him as he climbs out of his van, Halen and into the bar, boots scuffing the hard wooden floor. But the flight-risk metalhead is determined to find out, itching for adventure as he saunters with feigned confidence into the southern saloon. 

He flags down the closest bartender, a country heartthrob of a man with black hair and blue eyes. The Casanaova places a coaster down in front of him as Eddie steps up to the plate. “What’ll ya be havin’?”

“Anything local,” Eddie replies, more of a question, unsure of what exactly is available. “Anything hoppy.”

“Bottle or Tap?” the man follows up after a curt nod, mindlessly running a hand over his thick mustache.

“Tap. Pint, please.”  

The bartender gives another nod before disappearing to fulfill Eddie’s request. Meanwhile, the outcast takes this short window of time to look up and down the bar at the different patrons. 

All from different walks of life. But all here for presumably the same reason.Whisky Jim’s is decently packed, but for the most part, the crowd is congregated either in booths, at tables, or in the middle of the floor.

A glass is placed onto the coaster. The same deep country twang effectively regains Eddie’s attention.

“Wanna start a tab, brother?” The older man asks with a polite grin, eyes crinkling up at the sides as he does. 

Eddie offers a polite smile in return.

“Uh, sure. Thanks.” 

The bartender studies him intently this time, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“First timer?”

 Eddie clears his throat uneasily, kicking at the peanut casings at his feet to avoid contact with the John Wayne of a man that was in front of him.

“Obvious?” 

The man cackles at Eddie, the slight patronization of the old-timer’s demeanor making him want to evaporate. But the amused blue eyes and downturned smile indicates it’s all in good fun, much like his uncle Wayne who always liked giving him a hard time whenever he made himself too small. 

“Son, you couldn’t stick out further if you were a dog’s balls.” 

A fellow bartender laughs at the man’s remark. Then Eddie joins in. It was pretty funny. 

“You just don’t really look like the kind to be into square dancin’, is all,” the bartender remarks as he narrows his eyes at Eddie. Eddie shrugs and takes a sip of his beer, slightly wincing as the first sip hits him.

“Well, you’re not wrong. Just thought I’d explore a bit outside of my usual.” 

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Eddie.”

“Greg.” The bartender gives him his hand to shake. “You from around here or you comin’ from outta town?” 

“Hawkins.” 

“Not too far from home then. And it seems you came on a good night.” 

And as if on cue, the crowd towards the middle of the building erupts in cheers. Eddie briefly glances over his shoulder in the general direction before turning back to Greg with a curious head tilt.

“What’s happening?” 

Greg nods his head over in the direction of the crowd.

“Bull Ridin’ Night.”

Your thighs are wrapped around the firm leather seat as you’re whisked around in one fluid motion. You turn to give your rapt audience a wink. The crowd eats up your presence, evident by the adorn kisses they blow your way. You buy into the theatrics, pretending to catch them before putting them in your back pocket for later. It only riles the audience up more.

“They bring that thing out on Saturdays,” Greg explains. “Between the Karaoke Nights and the Hoedowns, Bull Ridin’ is one of the most popular.”

 Eddie tries another glance in that direction, but due to the crowd, he doesn’t have the best view of who is actually riding.

 “You gon’ give it a try?”

 Eddie’s head whips back around to the older man to find a teasing smirk on his face. Eddie shakes his head.

“I… don’t think so.” He chuckles. “I’m not the most balanced or coordinated person.” He admits that with a grimace and another sip of his Hawkins Pale Ale. 

“I’m just teasin’ ya, boy. HEY!” Greg whistles at the bartender next to him. “Who’s up there now?” 

 The coworker throws a quick glance over their shoulder before replying. There’s a bashful smirk when they reply, 

“Who do you think?” 

The crowd erupts again, cheers and whistles alike. Who else gets this kind of crowd engagement? No one else other than you, of course. 

“Looks like my girl is up there breakin’ hearts again.” Greg lets out a soft laugh. 

Eddie gulps as his breathing shallows. A girl? Up there? On that thing?

Eddie, once again, nearly strains his neck trying to get a glimpse of the rider. When he fails, Eddie turns back to the bar, downing the final quarter of his pint, before looking back at Greg.

“Fetch me a bottle for the road, yeah?”

 Greg issues him a chuckle, grabbing the empty glass and handing him a bottle version of that very ale, while Eddie sets off on his curiosity journey to the middle of the floor.

“Boys will be boys.” Greg’s female coworker remarks with sassy pursed lips.

Eddie closes in on the crowd,  slipping through the few empty spaces between the onlookers with half-assed ‘Excuse me’s. Though no one was paying him any mind. And when he settles by the barrier, just a mere two rows behind, he finally gets the perfect view of you.

Eddie couldn’t fight the grin that spread across his face at the sight of you working the crowd. He watches as you give a practiced flick of your hips to get the crowd going and the enticing jiggle of your breasts under your tight shirt. Drew in Eddie’s eyes like a laser beam. The thin material was stretched taut, giving a hint of the perfect tits underneath as you arched your lower back and thrust your chest forward to keep your balance. 

“Christ,” he exhales sharply, in awe of your natural performance, the boisterous, unpredictable gravity of the machine whirling you around as you wrestle to hold on. 

His eyes drink in the sight of the soft, rounded curve of your ass that peeked out of the bottom of your faded Daisy Duke’s as you lean forward to steady yourself in the saddle.

WHOOSH!

The bull jerks sideways and you flex your thighs and circle your hips in the saddle to keep yourself astride. The plush skin of your upper thighs press tightly against the seat and your upper body sways in rhythm with the bull’s movement. 

You were born to ride.

“That’s how you do it, Indiana!” a spectator hoots in adoration as you cling on for dear life. “That’s how you do it!”

You give a deep roll of your hips to meet the thrust of the machine, causing Eddie to run the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip before sucking in a shaky breath. Your hips… the way they roll… is almost hypnotic, and Eddie’s brown doe eyes can’t help but linger on the sliver of skin that peeks out, black, intricate swirls of cyber-sigilism that tease him slightly. 

Fuck.

“God, she’s so pretty…” he thinks to himself. “And she knows how to ride.”

Eddie’s eyes trail to the white of your knuckles, his own fingers gripping the bottle of his beer when his eyes slide up your arm and land on your face.

The front of his pants start to feel uncomfortably tight. Eddie adjusts himself as discreetly as he could, but even the soft brush of his fingers against the strained denim causes  him to hiss under his breath.

“Ride it, cowgirl!” an audience’s comment centers Eddie once again. “LET ‘EM KNOW!”

The way you matched the bull’s gyrations and anticipated its every move made him weak in the knees, and as he watched you swirl your hips in the saddle like a modern day Annie Oakley he couldn’t help but wish it was him straddled between your shapely thighs instead. 

As Eddie stood there watching, the dull roar of the crowd faded into the background. At that moment it was just you and him. 

In his mind he’s already lassoed you to his bed; and you’re sat astride him like a cowgirl in your saddle, hands splayed on his chest for balance as you lowered yourself onto his throbbing cock. And you’d bite down on your plush lower lip and let out a soft moan as you sank down onto him slowly, taking your time and adjusting to his size. 

“Oh, Eddie,” he could almost hear you purring. “It’s so big.”

And he’d chuckle with false modesty and rub a hand tenderly along your thigh as if to soothe the delicious stretch of his thick girth.Then once you adjusted, you’d move, meeting each unpredictable roll of his hips with your own as you mastered the rhythm of your very own long-haired bucking bronco.

And he’d be gripping you tight with each deep thrust, pistoning, plowing himself into you while watching his cock disappear into your slick pussy over and over with each forceful snap of his hips. And with every strained mewl he milks out of you he’d press you down by the hips and drill into you further, your weak cunt just about ready to tap out on top of him. This handsome bull’s sure a challenge, you’d be thinking to yourself. Eddie is a ride you wouldn’t be able to survive.

———

The crowd disperses when the show is over. Eddie stands a bit straighter when you finally leave the middle of the floor, eyes darting towards the plush smirk that your soft lips create. If it’s even possible, he thinks you look even more heavenly. He’s sure you don’t even realize what you’re doing to him. 

Little does he know that for you, he’s taken that same effect. You’ve grown so accustomed to everyone here that a new face has captured your attention. And you felt him staring at you, with a gaze so impassioned that you just about almost lost your footing up there. But you pulled it off real well, attempting to shake off the redirection in the form of a dramatic bounce of your tits.

It perplexes you. A man making you that nervous? Up until late, it’s become rather unheard of. You want to know this man and see for yourself what his energy is all about.

Eddie finds himself fixing his appearance when he notices your legs striding over, clearing his throat as his palm slides over the stubble that he had been trying to grow. 

“You know it’s kinda rude to stare the way that you do,” you remark.

“How so?” Eddie challenges. “Everyone else is doing it. What makes me different from everybody?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” you smile at him.

Eddie shifts his weight onto the counter, bringing the bottle up to his lips, taking another gulp. His eyes dart everywhere -- the metal buckle of your belt, the skin that was shiny with dried sweat, your hands that tap at the sticky countertop of the bar, the way your lips wrap around the tip of your bottle and the liquid that slips out and down your chin that he greedily wanted to tongue away. 

“Funny,” you observe. “I’m here every Saturday and I’ve never once seen your face.”

He thinks he’s looking over at an angel, really, heart beating faster when he realizes it’s him that you’d made an effort to come up to. Made an effort to get to know.

“Interesting that you saw me.”

“I see everything from up there. And you’re a newcomer, I can tell. Sticking out like a sore thumb in the best way.”

You invite him into your energy, closing up the distance between the two of you with a graceful stride in his direction.

“You were amazing,” Eddie says to you. “Really know how to put on a show, cowgirl.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie insists. “Spotlight loves you. Killer crowd engagement as well.”

“You a performer too?”

“Depends who’s asking.”

“Mmm, I don’t know…” you sigh dreamily. “Just a fellow performer lookin’ for some tips and pointers.”

Not much needs to be said to know that you two ache for each other, judging by how the intimate dive bar grows non-existent for as long as you two are captured in the forcefield of each other. Eddie thinks that there would be absolutely nothing better than giving you some pointers, his hand leaving the bottle, some of the liquid sloshing around the precipitating glass, heart pounding in his ears as he nods quickly. One rowdy night wouldn’t hurt anybody, he thinks to himself. And it’s very apparent that, the stunner that is you, wants take him for a spin.

“So what do you say, cowboy?” you cock an eyebrow at him. “Why don’t we ride off into the sunset, just you and me?”

dividers by: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more @saradika @mikeykuns

[hearthaleydunphy]

Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off - OP • 81

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader

warnings: drinking?

synopsis: oscar knew exactly what to expect when his girlfriend told him she was going out for margaritas…

a/n: my “cuntry” playlist had taken over my mind. also i love osc. anyways tell me you like this or i will cry

she said “i’m going out with my girlfriends. Margaritas at the Holiday Inn” - oh, have mercy, my only thought - was tequila makes her clothes fall off

“Hey, I’m heading out,” Y/n said, pressing a kiss to her boyfriend’s cheek as he sat in bed, scrolling through his phone.

“Hm. What are you guys up to this time?” He asked, softly pressing a kiss to the back of her hand before she could leave him.

“Margaritas,” She said nonchalantly, seeming to forget what happens everytime tequila hits her tongue.

“Well, be safe. Maybe grab an extra layer though,” Oscar Chuckled. Y/n lightly shoved him with a scoff but did, in fact, grab a jacket on her way out.

she’ll start by kicking out of her shoes - lose an earring in her drink - leave her jacket in a bathroom stall - drop a contact down the sink

Y/n grunted as she dropped down into the booth her and her friends had claimed as their own. She was quick to kick her heels off. One margarita and two songs deep and her feet were already killing her.

She was quick to finish off her drink once the heels were off. She place the glass on the table and reached over it to grab something from the other side of the booth, not realizing the backing of her earring had come off and the earring had fallen into the empty glass.

Kika was quick to replenish Y/n’s drink before dragging the girl back to the busy dance floor.

she don’t mean nothing - she’s just having fun - tomorrow she’ll say “oh, what have i done?” - her friends will joke about the stuff she lost - yeah, tequila makes her clothes fall off

As the night continued Y/n only lost more things. Oscar was not shocked when she stumbled into their apartment, her dress the only remaining piece of her outfit. Despite how late it was, he was quick to help her stumble through her night routine.

He knew she’d be confused and disappointed when she woke up the next morning and realizing she left behind her favorite jacket and heels at the club, but Y/n knew the real problem would come from the jokes about that night from her friends and Oscar himself. Right now, that did not matter to her cause she was back in the arms of the man she loved.

[ventique18]

King 🐉 who uses you to get tf off work.

🐉: "You have ten minutes to discuss."

Some official: "My king? This is a long topic--"

🐉: "Then be present first thing tomorrow."

Official: "Pardon my rudeness, however the line to your audience is always long--"

🐉: "Queueing at three in the morning will surely land you first ten, I'd wager."

Official: "I beg you, just an hour of your time--"

🐉: "An hour! Surely you jest? What would my spouse say? Or do? Can you imagine! An hour of overtime!"

🐉: "My sympathies go to you, though you must understand that my hands are tied. I am sure you empathize. Spouses can be terrifying..."

Official, defeated: "Yes, yes..."

🐉: "Eight minutes."

Official: "Y-yes!"

From then on, anyone who wants an audience with the king has learned to practice thoroughly before the scheduled meeting date. They learned to discuss so concisely and quickly, in fact, that it paved way to the emergence of a brand new entertainment scene in their country: Thorns and roses rap, where participants try to decimate each other with the most eloquent, rhythmic and thorny phrases they could within a short given amount of time.

[maximotts]

Number four with cowgirl Wanda please 😵‍💫 My free use queen

cowgirl Wanda my love my life 💖 uhmmm have some not so secret barn loft sex

cw: 18+ minors dni; smut, dry humping, strap-ons, previously agreed upon free use/dubcon if you really squint hard

"Do you want them to hear?"

“It was real sweet of you to come all the way down here just to bring me lunch.”

Wanda shouldn’t have been able to sound so innocent while tearing at your clothes, tugging the thin straps of your sundress from your shoulders just to let it fall and bunch at your waist. You also should’ve known better than to think she was innocently asking you to sit on your lap to ‘rest’ after finishing off the sandwich you’d brought her from the house.

Truly you’d known since she led you up to the barn’s hayloft, but Wanda left so early that morning, her side of the bed cold by the time you woke up, and you’d missed her terribly ever since. “Well I haven’t seen you all day, Wands. I needed to make sure you weren’t working yourself to death down here- ah!”

The brunette’s mouth latched onto your breast then, free hand coming to massage the other as you scrambled to keep yourself balanced. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I won’t let you fall.”

The pair of you continued on like that for a while, Wanda keeping busy with sucking your tits as you tugged her tied back hair and stammered out praises. Impatient as you were, shaky hands fell to your girlfriend’s jeans, fumbling through unbuckling her belt just to grind your hips down to hers hard, silently begging for the strap on nestled between her legs.

“Always so needy to be filled, is that what you want?” Her hand snuck under your dress and, upon searching for underwear and instead finding your bare pussy, Wanda nipped at the underside of your breast. “Came down all by yourself with nothing on under this thin little dress? Naughty little bunny.”

There was no denying it, having hoped that one way or another, your midday visit would result in the sex you’d missed out on this morning. But who could blame you when your girlfriend was always so enticing? “I need you so bad, please.. I’ll beg so prettily for you.”

You’d put on your best pout, stroking Wanda’s cheek much too gently for the carnal need buzzing between you both. She lined the toy up to your entrance without another word, dying to fuck you just as much as you needed to be consumed by her. “Go on and beg, baby. Let me hear you.”

“Oh fuck, yes!” You moaned, sinking down onto her cock in one fluid motion. Your knees shook against the old wood of the loft, head falling into the crook of Wanda’s neck as she bucked up into your tight hole. “Feels so good, don’t stop—“

“That’s it, take what you need, pretty thing.” Wanda held your hips in a relaxed grip, allowing you to ride her however you pleased while she enjoyed the show.

It was just as you’d set the perfect pace that the large barn doors below opened, Natasha’s and Carol’s voices filling the otherwise empty building. Instinct had you backing off, but Wanda wouldn’t let you, fingers digging into your sides. “Stop it, we can’t! Someone’s here!”

“Shhh,” Wanda smirked when you shook your head, gripping your ass so roughly you yelped- much louder than you’d have liked. “Do you want them to hear?”

She didn’t stop there, refusing to be denied when she’d been so looking forward to this loft rendezvous, and soon your back met a scratchy bed of hay, Wanda driving into you more determined than ever. Wanda couldn’t care less if her friends heard what was happening up here; it wouldn’t be the first time they’d accidentally overheard and it probably wouldn’t be the last. “I bet it only turns you on more, thinking about everyone wanting to listen in on how pretty you sound getting fucked dumb.”

“N-No, I-” Realistically you didn’t stand a chance, tiny whimpers already escaping despite your best efforts to keep quiet. She held your hands above your head, keeping your body on display as she had her way with you and damn it, if it wasn’t so hot, you wouldn’t be struggling so intently to meet her hips with each thrust.

Wanda started to circle your neglected clit then and the last of your performative defiance faltered, legs falling open with a wanton moan. “You promised to beg, so you’d better not have been lying or I’ll leave you here with an ass so red you’ll be crying for me to carry you home.”

[spacexseven]

Fyodor would be a family man that’s good at hiding his true intentions from his family such as the decay of angels and rats house along with his s/o just nurturing their son and having a peaceful side along with Nikolai being a family friend who would entertain Fyodors son. One happy family

anon i could kiss you senseless rn...literally one of the best things i've ever had the honor of seeing in my inbox. this idea has ruined me i swear it's Perfect

fem reader, reader is married to fyodor and has a son w him

cw: yandere character, deceit, manipulation, mentioned murder

fyodor dostoevsky makes for a wonderful husband—loving, ordinary, almost suspiciously so, but you married him knowing that he was an ordinary man. you loved him knowing that he was an ordinary man.

an ordinary man with some extremely unsettling secrets, none that you knew about.

the fyodor dostoevsky you knew and loved was the man who kissed the palm of your hand, and if he was feeling particularly affectionate, your forehead, every morning before he left for work, with a half-smile on his lips and a fond gleam in his eyes. you weren't quite sure what he did, except that he worked for a company of some kind, but you didn't like the way his face hardened when you probed, so you left it at that. it didn't matter what he did, anyway, so long as he came back to greet you every night, safe and unharmed.

the man you married was the one who'd come home to greet you with a tired nod and a warm embrace, entertaining your son's excited rambling over dinner. he held you close when he read before sleeping, stroking your hair with a light touch. as far as you were concerned, he was an amazing husband and lover.

though he was not necessarily a good person otherwise.

you were so easily blinded by the tender warmth he showed his family, that you hardly cared for his uncharacteristic slip-ups. like when he scowls, ever so slightly, when the news broadcasts some detective agency receiving an award, or when a ghost of a smile lingers as you wonder out loud how a casino could be floating in the sky.

you never once questioned the times he came home in an entirely different coat from when he went out, or when he was away for days on end, not calling you or leaving you a single message. was it because you trusted him wholeheartedly, or because you were afraid of what the truth really was?

but even if you had your own suspicions, it would have never even come close to what fyodor was really doing. how were you to know that the same lips that whispered sweet songs of praise to you with a coquettish smile were the same ones that uttered a death sentence to his countless victims? and how were you to know that the steady hands that caressed your body so intimately had also touched numerous corpses? the husband that spoiled you on anniversaries and birthdays could not be the same man that was actively planning to cover the world with the blood of sinners.

for the most part, you liked nikolai too. he was a little odd, considering his getup and his tendency to seemingly pop out of nowhere, but he was good friends with your husband—dos, as he called fyodor—and your son loved playing with him. he didn't tell you what he did, either, though he let it slip that he worked very closely with your husband. he refused to explain fyodor's unexplained disappearances, though he would often stop by to show your son a new magic trick when fyodor was gone for a little too long, just to reassure you a little.

nothing really gave it away; not the amused expression when you told him to stay safe on his way, nor his eccentric coworkers. you were just happy that your husband always came home to you, and never failed to remind you that he loved you. there were, perhaps, more things that should have worried you. the way fyodor insisted that you keep your social circle small, or the frustrated look in his eyes that was beginning to appear more and more often. even the peculiar things he was beginning to tell you.

you're lying in fyodor's lap, mind drifting between sleep and consciousness as he looks at you with an unreadable expression. then, perhaps noticing that you weren't completely asleep, a little smile appears on his face. "tell me," his voice is soft, but every word feels strangely heavy, "will you ever leave me?" you frown slightly, and he chuckles. "even if i did something you don't agree with?" you shake your head, "what's this about?" his smile widens, and he gently pinches your cheek. the look in his eyes is unnaturally cold. "it doesn't matter. either way...you don't have anyone else to turn to."

and you could have continued the way life was, with your mostly ordinary husband and your wonderful family. at least, until he turns up at your door after an especially long period of disappearance. you would be thrilled, normally, but you're much too shocked at the sight of your husband in what looks like a prison uniform to feel any relief.

[riaki]

hii! yk that trend on tiktok where the girl asks her man to name a woman and gets suspicious when he says a name beside hers? i would like to request that with gojo please! thanksss

name a woman | satoru gojo x f!reader thanks for ur req! here u go <3 slightly different from what u asked but i hope it works | cw fem reader + petnames, slightly suggestive, he's kinda a scumbag lol

it's a lazy saturday afternoon when you get betrayed by your boyfriend.

you're sitting at the round table on the patio of satoru's place; you always forget just how rich his parents are whenever you're around him. if not for that stupidly expensive cologne he wears and that one time you happened to see the price tag on the new pair of sunglasses he bought himself, you would've been blissfully unaware. after all, for a rich kid, he's pretty grounded. at least, when he isn't tooting his own horn.

but being here on the gojo estate, it hits you in the face like a ton of bricks; forces you to accept the fact that your boyfriend is loaded.

the breeze is gentle as it runs through your hair, but satoru's absentminded touch as he drums his fingers along your arm is more than you could ever ask for. it's the little things like this; habits of his that make you love him all the more. the way he'll throw his arms around your neck and latch onto to give you a big hug from behind, or carry you around like you're a little kid when you're worn out and you can't feel your feet from a day's worth of walking.

there's seven empty juice boxes littered across the table and a half-empty one in your hand; the paper straw is already folding in on itself, which makes it much harder to get any of the remnants at the bottom of the carton. at least the drink is nice and sweet; refreshing lime on a sunny day.

"why did they stop giving these things plastic straws? it's so soggy now," you complained, shifting in your seat as you shook the juice box. it did not relent, or give up any of its juice. you make a face, and you could swear it makes one back.

satoru glances up at you, tearing his attention away from his phone as a small grin appears on his lips. "don't you know? it's good for the environment. obviously, you're not in tune with nature like i am." he snickers, adjusting his shades on the bridge of his nose before turning his attention back to the screen between his fingers, withdrawing the hand that was on your arm to form a cushion for his chin on the crook of his elbow.

"oh, [name], [name]! you're hurting us! woe be upon thy and thou foul plastic tomfoolery." your dignified lover puts his phone down, straightening up to wave his arms about as if he's one of those inflatables you see in front of car dealerships. you think he's trying to be a tree, but you're not entirely sure. "hear that? the plants are calling you," he grins, pausing his arm waves to nudge you in the shoulder.

"stop doing that, satoru. you look stupid. the maids will think you've lost it," you chuckled, kicking his leg in jest as you leaned back in your seat and took another sip from the juice box.

"you're one to talk." he scoffs, and you glare at him, giving him a pointed look. he just giggles, sticking his tongue out before making a grab at your juice box. you swipe it out of his reach before he can wiggle his fingers any closer, and the way his expression falls an apple from a tree makes a laugh bubble from your throat. unlike the apple, it's not gravity that's pulled him down; you never indulge him, because you like making him chase. he enjoys it— he thinks it's good that you're playful. but it's annoying when he's thirsty and it's not his fault those juice boxes are so damn small.

"toru, i have a question for you. answer well and the rest of this is yours," you said, shifting in your seat to cross your legs and face him, propping the juice box on your knee. there's not much inside, but you know he'll scavenge for every last drop, like he's some raccoon. it's cute, you think.

he perks up immediately, turning his phone off and mirroring your position in his own seat; his limbs are slightly too long and too lanky to fit proportionately in the seat, but he doesn't seem to mind when his knee bumps against yours.

"yes? what is it, my sweetpea?" he grins, enjoying the sour expression on your face. it seems the lime juice has worked its way into your system.

you scowl. "sweetpea? what kind of nickname is that?" it's cute, though, so you don't say anything more. you stare at him for a moment, taking in his features; the wide smirk on his lips, the way his hair gently ruffles around his face like passing clouds.

you sigh; resigned, as you roll your eyes.

"name a woman."

"...what?"

he tilts his head to the side, staring at you through his lashes, an inquisitive squint that makes him look a lot like a white cat.

you laugh a little, and his grin widens. "you heard me. name a woman. any; the first that comes to your mind."

he hums in acknowledgement, making a show out of tapping his chin with a finger in deep thought, a mock pensive expression twisting his lips down before he looks at you again, a teasing glint in his azure eyes that gives you a terrible sense of foreboding.

"kuroki meisa."

...

now it's your turn to ask. "what?"

he shrugs, a shit-eating grin on his face yet again as he tilts his shades down to give you a look that he knows will get you bothered.

"you heard me, princess. i named a woman. the first that comes to my brilliant mind, right? now how about giving me that juice box—" he starts, reaching forward and leaning in his seat to make another grab at the box perched on your knee. you yank it away from him just in time; his fists close around cool air and he groans loudly.

"you're no fun." he pouts, biting the inside of his cheek.

"satoru! who the hell is kuroki meisa? you were supposed to say me! or your mom, at least. or shoko." you glared at him, turning your nose up and refusing to acknowledge him as he pouts and crosses his arms over his chest like some petulant child who got his ipad confiscated.

"i did what you told me to do! you can't be mad at me for that." he protests, squirming in his seat.

a lightbulb goes off in your head; normally, that'd be a good thing, but the way you're gritting your teeth so hard he thinks your jaw might crack doesn't bode well. "wait, don't tell me. is she another one of those models? satoru, i swear—" you start, but he cuts you off hastily, making a mad grab at the juice box and coming out successful and surprisingly unscathed.

"she is." he says sheepishly, toying with the sad paper straw before attempting to take a sip. he struggles, but eventually you hear the tell tale sign of liquid moving up the hollow straw. you're too busy seething to notice, though.

"gojo." you say his surname, and he flinches a little, an overwhelming sense of icy dread sinking its claws into his shoulders as his grin turns into one of nervous panic. it's familiar; the one he experienced when you'd found one of your missing bras in the drawer compartment underneath his king sized mattress (that he always complains about feeling ten times emptier without you in it).

"yes, my sweet?" satoru's about to face you when something hits him square in the face— with all malicious intent and cutting cardboard corners. seven juice boxes on the table plus one half-filled one has now become six on the table, a half-filled in his hand, and another on the floor. you're glaring daggers at him, still posed to strike in your chair. he rubs his cheek, grinding his teeth together and grumbling before he looks at you again with an extremely disappointed expression on his face. "the plants, baby! if they didn't already dislike you, they sure do now." he huffs. but with the way you're looking at him, he wouldn't put it past you to throw the table at him next.

"give me my juice box back, you brat." you hiss, and he laughs, staring down at you like you're some cute little zoo animal. he wants to dote on you; he can't help it! you're so adorable, with your cheeks all red and your bottom lip sticking out in a little endearing pout. he wants nothing more than to drop the juice box, drag you onto his lap and squish your pretty face until you start complaining and stop him with a kiss.

satoru knows he won't get anywhere if you're still pissed at him, though, so he at least has to try and make amends.

"aww, don't worry, baby! you're the only woman i think of when i—"

"that's enough out of you, traitor."

satoru just grins and finishes off the juice box, relishing in the look of mild anguish on your face as you watch the cardboard crinkle inward like some black hole sucked it in; a telltale sign of what was half-filled a moment ago becoming completely empty; a dry well that was once your reservoir of life. you retreat back into your seat, hugging your knees to your chest and putting on your best, heart-tugging frown. it doesn't take long for satoru to notice when you do, and he immediately melts, tossing the juice box aside to the poor plants and leaning forward to cup your cheek in his palm.

"what's wrong, love? you know i only did it to see you upset," he chuckles, and you can't help but smile before remembering you're supposed to be pissed.

"that was the last juice box, satoru. and i'm still thirsty. and a little hungry." you sighed, rubbing your forehead. you felt a little guilty. "but it's okay."

satoru sighs, before pulling away and standing up, stretching his arms and cracking his back with exaggerated movements, like he's making letters out of his body.

"alr-ight! up with you, then. let's go to the market." he grins, lending you a hand and nudging your foot with his. you stare up at him with those sweet big eyes, and he feels himself melt a little.

"are you sure? they're expensive—“

"shut it, sweetpea. it's all on me. how does katsu sound?"

your face lights up, and so does his. after all, he'd do anything for his sweet girl— no model could ever compare to the very sun of his life; the brightest star in his sky.

not proofread i hope we’re not surprised my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

[chrollohearttags]

y’all hear me out rq…a black!fem country singer with southern boy!jean as the love interest in her video and the tension is brazy cause he finer than a bitch and you finer than a bitch too..y’all touching all over each other so he handles it once y’all are done shooting—

[hungharrington]

no thoughts head empty just steve being completely fucked out and pussy drunk that he's rambling and shaking as he fusses to line his cock with your entrance because he's just so goddamn desperate to be inside you!! ugh

- 🪐 heading to bed hope u have a good day :)

drooling at the very thought… you all know by now that i like my men whiney and god, if steve wouldn’t be all whiney by this stage. there’s a tremble in his thighs as you sit atop him, your silky folds just soaking his cock, wet enough that you’ve been pleasurably sidetracked because fuck, when you roll your hips that way your clit catches on the head of his cock and sparks of pleasure catch in your stomach. it’s warm in his room. your hands are planted on his chest as you rock back and forth, chasing your own pleasure, it takes a particularly loud whimper from steve to realise you’ve pushed him over into completely pussy drunk :( he’s just so worked up :( so fucking hard beneath you and it’s so so good and not fucking enough. “pleasepleaseplease” he begs, eyes scrunched closed in a poor attempt to keep himself together, but when you’re so wet and hot and dripping over his cock it drives him mad, “please honey, y’gotta— y’gotta let me put it in :( she’s just crying for it, please” and he drags your hips forward with his hands, letting your hear just how turned on your are, how absolutely soaked you’re getting his cock- and how can you refuse that pouty little face? you shift up, lifting one knee so you perch on the bed beside him and in the same moment you sink down, steve’s sitting up and pouncing— he hovers above you, a bulging bicep from his tense forearm pressed into the bedsheets beside your head and the kiss he gives you is searing, burning, pure lust melted into his love. he leans back, one hand trailing down your thigh to push it out, spreading you wider and beginning to line himself up. normally he’s such a tease, all tantalising taps of his heavy cock on your clit to make you squirm but tonight he fumbles for a moment, torn up in the hot wet heat of your cunt that the moment he can inch in, he’s sliding all the way in with a gutteral groan, head bowed as he tries not to cum too soon :( then it’s all, “thankyouthankyou,” as he finally starts to fuck you, already all fucked out :) 

[marieslittlecorner]

My Joel 🌾

[fandomnerd9602]

Y/N walks into the living room to find a bunch of Wanda variants…

Bambi!Wanda: hi there! Are you my new stuffie?

Werewolf!Wanda: (growls seductively)

Rockstar!Wanda: (purrs) I could write an album about you

Gamer!Wanda: oh baby I just leveled up

Country!Wanda: looking for a ride? (Winks)

Y/N approaches their Wanda…

Y/N: Wanda? I think your variants want to-

Wanda: they’ll have to fight me to have you, detka

Scarlet Witch enters the room…

Scarlet Witch: where’s Y/N?

Wanda: all yours Scarlet!

For @lifespectator