#cowboy air shoes >:]

[sonic-adventure-3]

sheriff shadow of floating rock world take 2

[bunni-lime-boutique]

I MADE A SHOE!!!

I call em the

🤠🐎COWBOY SUNDAES🍨🍓

YES YOU HEARD ME

MADE

A

SHOE

LIKE DESIGNED, MEASURED, CUT, SEWED, SANDED, GLUED

The whole nine!!!

It was at this place called SRGN Academy and it's an absolutely AMAZING program!

If you've ever wanted to learn how to make your very own shoe THIS IS THE PLACE TO GO!!! 👍🏽

To my knowledge they have a location in New York California!

[jebunkle]

is this the real life?...

806 wc, gn!reader, all of them are having a mental breakdown

i saw some awesome sahsrau (self-aware hsr au) from @aventurineswife and they seemed a bit tired of making it...so i thought i'd give it a shot :p maybe ooc on some parts, sorry

the astral express who, while visiting a planet, begin to sense something amiss. it feels as if something, someone, has eyes on them occasionally.

while you're just logging in to play the game and pulling for new characters, everyone starts to freak out. what is watching over them? it can't be the aeons, something much more divine. hell, maybe even the aeons sense something is different.

himeko brews coffee while chatting quietly with welt, "you've felt it too, yes?" she asked him nervously, as if someone would hear if they were too loud. she sips her drink while glancing around every moment or so, displaying her franticness.

the express notices her off putting attitude, but before they can dwell on it, they begin to feel the same as her. it's almost like an illness, if this plague's symptoms were paranoia and impending doom.

the stellaron hunters are hardly different. kafka's smooth demeanor falters as she gazes off into the deep null of space. "who are you, divine being?" she asks into the nothingness, her sultry voice filling the otherwise empty air. as blade is sat on a couch, arms crossed over his chest, his posture seemed to be more tense than usual. of course, he was always uptight, but his behavior was extra rigid as of lately. silver wolf on the other hand, can't help but chuckle at kafka's philosophical rants and blade's silent pondering. she can tell that they're all puppets on a larger stage, meaning close to nothing in the vast universe — both her universe and yours.

aventurine, ever relaxed, has been carrying himself with a bit more of a troubled expression. his typical flamboyance has faltered and few around him have noticed. as aventurine sits on a red leather chair in an empty casino, he does not feel alone; tossing a golden coin between his fingers, aventurine begins thinking aloud. "i see you've chosen to reveal yourself, huh?" the blonde's voice is low and almost soft, as if he's trying not to offend whoever he may be speaking to.

dr. ratio's hair is a slightly unkempt, his eyebrows are pinched together much more frequently, and his papers and studies are left askew on his desk. a few members of the intellegentsia guild slowly catch onto how he's acting, and it's truly unbecoming of the infamous strict professor. his employees can be seen wearing a concerned expression when glancing over at him, yet are too afraid to inquire on his troubled state. "i will uncover whoever is ensuing this chaos amongst us all." ratio promises himself.

the xianzhou luofu is eerily quiet. the arbiter general himself has gone silent as well, as if the ship has been submerged into an ocean of solitude. jing yuan sits in his chair with his fingers intertwined atop his lap. internally, he wonders about this rumored 'creator'; are they real? is it an aeon? what does this mean for him? his companions? is something terrible on the horizon? his endless inquiries are certainly unlike him, causing the master diviner fu xuan to worry about him.

she feels that the world has been tilted also, however she's more concerned about jing yuan's scrambled state. "please, go home and rest, general." she pleads annoyedly, "mm. give me a moment, diviner fu." jing yuan replies quietly, his words melancholic. "you know as much as i do that something has changed." he states to the shorter woman.

boothill's shoes tap eagerly against the pavement that lined the roof of the building, echoing an ambience of anticipation. "what in the world are you?" the man questions the air rhetorically. he cannot, for the life of him, figure out what's causing such a stir in the mood of everyone, himself included. the silver cowboy's hand is rested on his hip, the other lifted to his neck with a finger pressed to his chin. "i dunno, but yer rackin' all our brains here.." boothill remarks, hoping that whoever is watching over him will hear it.

the enigmatic memokeeper is seen with a more defined smirk recently. black swan has taken interest is this unknown deity that has spiked fear and franticness all over the universe. she rests her palm against her chin, staring up into the stars that decorate the black outside of the express's windows. "i hope you'd be willing to speak with me, demiurge." she exclaims in a calm yet excited tone.

the head of the oak family stands in his obnoxiously large office, hands pressed against the polished table as he stares down at it. there's a few scattered documents thrown astray, but they're not important right now. all sunday can think of is you. he knows you exist, he's sure of it, and he won't rest until the day comes that you visit him and grace the world with your presence.

im so happy the eagles won the super bowl and kendricks performance was goated

dividers by @/hyuneskkami

[ellieslob]

★cheerleader x pervy!loser ellie

+warnings: stalker ellie, voyeurisim, dub-con???, a bit of degrading, smut

+ kinda inspired in she by tyler the creator and frank ocean, and bottoms, ngl

ways to help palestine!!!

REBLOG!

pervy!loser ellie staring from outside of your window, hiding between shadows and bushes, pressing her thighs together, trying to concentrate only on your moans, not on the disgusting growls your stupid junkie boyfriend was making, she was indecisive about taking a real look, or staying with only your beautiful sounds, either way, at this point, her panties were soaking wet.

god, she was pathetic.

one of your moans turned into a scream, a pornographic sound that went directly to her untouched and desperate clit, shit was almost throbbing. she couldn't help it, her eyes went further into the room, the bed squeaking as he pounded you, you were riding him, the reverse cowboy position only made ellie’s view more enjoyable, she could barely see something out of that piece of shit, not his stupid face, not his repulsive body, just his dick, sliding in and out of your abussed pussy. you were facing completely towards the window, towards her, your room didn't had curtains and still, you were comfortable showing your almost naked body, only your bra on, getting railed like a fucking slut and opening your legs for her, stroking your covered tits, brushing your clit so desperate,  your littles whines of distress when not even that could bring your climax. ellie got fucking pissed, that dip fuck not only was making you do all the extra work, he wasnt even fucking you right, sure, he was doing the bare minimum, but she could see in your expressions that he wasn’t hitting the right spots at all, you were a crying mess and all for the wrong reasons.

your hand got tired and you tried to move a little, you finally opened your eyes and caught her, staring directly at you, her eyes filled with fear and horror.

fuck.

she should have stayed at her fucking house masturbating only to your instagram stories or something, shit, shit…

shit.

you weren't screaming or throwing things at her to make her go. you didn't stop moving, you didn't take your eyes out of hers.

you knew that little fucking weirdo, always stayed late at the gym and stared at every single one of your practices, but not to all the girls, no; it didnt matter how curvy, how showy or how pretty the girls were, she never looked at them, her eyes seemed to be glued to your body, the feeling of her gaze scanning when you bend over and tie your shoes, was kinda exhilarating, hearing her things fall and hit the ground when she noticed you were only wearing a thong, was definitely funny and her little coughs to try to recover from it? you had to admit they were kinda cute, soo pathetic, but kinda cute.

so when you saw that fucking pervy bitch hide by your fucking window again, like she had been doing the last couple of nights, you begged your stupid useless boyfriend to fuck you right there.

ellie saw your hands creeping to the lace bra, a smirk crossed your soft red lips, you threw the item directly to her face, she catched it in the air, and rushed to push it on her nose.

smelled fucking amazing.

“fuck!” those were the first words you had said in the last thirty minutes, you pushed your hips against the ones that were fucking you, ellie stood a little higher, eager, wanting to touch you, to actually touch you in the places you needed her. you saw her hand slip down her cargo pants, your moans got higher, damn, at this point you seemed more desperate than her. “faster.” you demanded, the dumb fuck thought you were talking to him, but ellie smiled, and she moved her own hand quickly, bitting her lip, your hips started moving like crazy and your little shy and mostly acted moans became so raspy and loud, whines that almost sounded like cries for help. 

actual tears were going down, you were almost drowlin’ as you kept fucking yourself roughly, shit, you were about to cum, for the first time in the night, ellie mouthed “your clit” and you reached it furiously, both of your hands were moving at the same pace, both of you were looking at each others lips, mouths opened lewdly, wishing you could reach them and kiss.

“fuckfuckfuck, yes baby” your eyes struggled to not get closed, you needed to look at ellie’s face, to her eyes being almost rolled out, her desperation, you wanted to keep that picture forever in your brain, but you were cumming hard, god, it was the best orgasm you have had in a long time, the brunette was a hot mess, all blushed and biting her lip to bleed, her hair was tangled and sticked at her forehead, her hand was moving briskly under her underwear and her brown eyes almost begging you to cum, so she could.

fuck, she was fucking sick

and still, you wanted her to be the one under you, so she could touch your nipples, play with them until they hurted, so she could edge you, so she could spank you and kiss you, put her tongue in yours while she pounded on you.

and you could hear her moaning in your ears.

“ellie!” you were dumbfucked, couldn't think about anything else but your climax and hers, that followed yours immediately, but at the same time your boyfriend heard you and looked instinctively at the window, catching a glimpse of the brunette´s face before she picked up her pants and started running.

“what the fuck, was that creep whatching us? are you okay? you must have been like super freaked out”

you blushed, covering your breast with your hands, trying to recover from the orgasm “yeah, it was… super fucked up”

[madewithsilk]

Need something with cowboy Ellie 😋😋😋

SAVE A HORSE, RIDE A COWGIRL

— p; cowgirl ellie x f!reader

— cw: strap on, sex, name calling (praise & degradation) and more

⋆˚࿔ Cowgirl Ellie that delights in taking you on rides atop horse. The way you instinctively wrap your arms around her waist, seeking reassurance and stability, your heart racing in tandem with the trotting. She could feel your every curve against her. “Hold on tight, sweetheart,” She reminds, turning her head to the side to see you through her peripheral with a smile. “Wouldn’t want ya’ to fall off.”

⋆˚࿔ Cowgirl Ellie that shows off the gun on her holster whenever a man tries to hit on you. Her gaze is stern, perhaps sided with a cocked eyebrow, while she lifts her shirt to reveal the weapon. You're too busy hooked onto her arm to even notice the staring man, "Ellie are you even listening?" You complain with a growing pout. She returns back to the conversation, hand on your chin. "Repeat that hun?"

⋆˚࿔ Cowgirl Ellie takes you to ranches with parties and horse or bull riding shoes just to show you off and boast about her skills. She'll keep you around, telling all her friends about the cute little doll she got. Then she'll tell you to watch her ride. Her friends curiousity always tipped you off. "How long you and Williams have been together?" "How much younger are ya'?"

⋆˚࿔ Cowgirl Ellie that taught you the hat rule, taking off her hat and placing it on your head. When she took note of the oblivious expression painted on your features, she chuckled and pulled on your waist to press you flush against her. "Wear the hat, ride the cowboy," She joked, assuming you'd heard the phrase and would understand now. When you shook your head cluelessly, she finally explained and took joy in the little embarrassed, flush look on your face.

⋆˚࿔ Cowgirl Ellie that took you home that night and performed the phrase a bit too literally.

She leaned against the headboard, her hands tightly on the supple skin of your hips. Her loose jeans were now under her ass yet not completely pulled off her body, testament to the rushed movements.

Ellie's strap was already out of her boxers and instead formed a bulge inside your tummy. You were completely nude besides the panties you pushed to the side in a hurry. She thrusted her hips upwards, watching your tits bounce with the erratic movement.

She couldn't help but let out whiny little groans at the sensation of the harness teasing at her clit, head thrown back as you tried to maintain a steady pace. "Ell— Ellie-," Your voice was in the form of a complain, tongue nearly lolling out.

She nods in acknowledgement, grabbing your jaw to keep your eyes set on hers. "Feel me, sweetheart?" She huffs out, pressing her other hand on your tummy to highlight the print of her silicone dick. "Right in there," She gestures.

Your hands were flat on her abs, using them as leverage to hoist your body up and down. Your thighs trembled, the strap hitting your deepest and sweetest spots each time with ease. Her hat was already thrown in some corner of the room, along with all the articles of clothing.

Your babbles were now small whimpers, "Please Ellie, just fuck me—" Her hands hold your hips in the air, simply thrusting into you to hit the perfect spot. You let her handle you roughly, tongue coming out while a bundle formed in your tummy. "Close baby girl?" She whispered, giving you a few harsher thrusts for you to cum all over her strap.

Your sleepy, needy moans were shown on the white ring of cum dripping down the silicone, lips permanently stuck in the O shape. "Mmm, dirty girl." Ellie bites softly onto your earlobe, giving you another hard, whimper-eliciting thrust.

[yellowharrington]

save a horse (ride a cowboy!) -- joel miller x reader

pairing + fandom: joel miller x reader, the last of us (hbo)

word count: 3.9k

warnings/notes: smut and porn!!! minors DNI, 18+!!! no outbreak!au. she/her pronouns used, afab!reader (with mentions of body parts), no use of y/n. age gap (joel is at least 10 years older). drinking (both reader and joel), unprotected PIV, oral (f receiving), spanking, dirty talk, car sex. if i missed anything lmk!

a/n: recommended listening: save a horse (ride a cowboy) by big & rich. honourable mention to austin by dasha bc it's been on repeat. please take the time to leave comments/reblog if you liked it <3 thank u for reading!! divider by @cafekitsune

summary: meeting an older man at the bar and spontaneously fucking him in his truck was not on your list of things to do for your first summer back in austin, but what can you do?

You hate going dancing.

Sweaty clubs with bodies brushing up against one another, sticky with the hot summer heat, confined to the walls of a crowded bar and beer sticking to the bottom of your shoes. Not the way you plan to spend your first Saturday night back in Austin for the summer, but Maddy is so convincing, your hand clasped around yours, a pleading look in her eyes. 

“I promise. It’s so fun. We’ll invite Kaylee and Erin and it’ll be a whole thing.”

You rolled your eyes at her, slipping your hand out from between hers. “Fine. One drink, one dance.”

She squealed with excitement and clapped her hands together, stepping up from the small cafe table. “We can pregame at mine. Wear that black top you have.”

You nod, thinking of the top in question. A corseted black thing that didn’t leave much to the imagination, breasts spilling out of the stop beneath the tight stitching. You think it probably got shoved to the back of your closet somewhere.

~

Joel hates going dancing.

Well, he doesn’t hate dancing. He just isn’t good at it, and hasn’t gone since his very early twenties. And he certainly would not be interested in spending the evening with Tommy at a country bar in downtown Austin, surrounded by women who would grimace at a pair of old men taking up a table.

But Tommy is convincing, hands gesturing around him annoyingly, until Joel gives in. “Fine. One drink. Then I’m leavin’.”

“This city is swarming with beautiful women,” Tommy says, knocking back another sip of his hot coffee. “And you’re too holed up inside to meet any of ‘em.”

“I like my own company,” Joel starts, bringing his own coffee mug to the sink. “Some of us are happy by ourselves.”

Tommy snorts, a hand clapping onto Joel’s shoulder. “Keep tellin’ yourself that, big shot. We’ll see when there’s a bunch of hotties in front of ya, then you can tell me that you like being alone.”

Joel gags at his use of the word ‘hotties’, and pulls his work boots on. “I can still change my mind, ya know.”

~ 

Night falls over the suburbs of Austin, taking the sunshine but leaving the humid, sweet heat in the air. You’re surrounded by your friends at Maddy’s apartment, a light pink gloss swiping across your lips. You’ve managed to dig out the top she had mentioned earlier, tied in a tight bow at the back. Your dark jeans hit just below it, letting slivers of smooth skin show, which somehow seemed sluttier than the fact your boobs were practically falling out of the top. Your jeans outlined the plump curve of your ass, a pair of dark cowboy boots adorning your calves. The last time you’d dressed like this was a long time ago, so it felt a little foreign, but not uncomfortable.

The cab ride to the bar is eventful, with 4 girls singing along to the songs on the radio at the top of your lungs. You were already a drink or two deep, having done some brightly coloured shot at Maddy’s house, taking it without thinking. You still weren’t planning on doing anything insane tonight, and bar drinks were expensive, so this was probably the best it was going to get for you.

The car pulls up to the bar and waits for you all to pour out, flashing your IDs to the bouncer, sliding inside past the thrums of people already inside. The bar was almost full, dance floor packed, drinks being poured by every bartender. Neon signs and amber lamps served as the only lighting for the establishment, already making things feel fuzzy around the edges for you.

Joel sits at a rickety wooden table in the corner of the bar with Tommy, scratching the wet label off of his beer bottle. He had fished out a plaid t-shirt from his closet, his usual jeans taught across his thighs and a pair of nicer boots than his work ones on his feet. His hair was pushed back, curls still lapping at the nape of his neck and curves of his ear. He was noticeably older than the other patrons of the bar, painfully aware of that fact, he felt rather uncomfortable. Tommy didn’t seem to mind, feet tapping at the beer-washed hardwood. “Stop lookin’ so mad,” he remarks, close to Joel’s ear. “You’ll scare ‘em all away.”

There are groups of people pouring in from outside, bachelorette parties and frat boys, making Joel feel unbelievably out of place. It was hard to lighten up when he wasn’t sure exactly what he was doing here.

The doors open once more, your group of friends pushing their way through the sea of people, hand in hand. Joel notices, one girl in a cowboy hat, one in denim jean cutoffs, one with a big belt buckle that glints pink against the light. 

Then he notices you.

His face softens as you follow behind your friends, as they push to the front of the line for a drink. He’s got 10 years on you, easy, but that doesn’t stop his cock twitching against the zipper of his suddenly too-tight jeans.

Soft curves, a top that fits you just right, and jeans that accentuate the dips and lines of your body. You’ve got warm energy, a bright smile adorning your glossed lips. 

You barely even notice him, until you turn around and make eye contact, your shining eyes meeting his. He’s too handsome for his own good, biceps and shoulders pressed tight against the sleeves of his shirt. He’s got his thighs spread across the chair he’s sitting in, towards you, almost like he wants you to come and just sit right on his lap.

You offer a small smile across the dim bar, taking your drink and following your friends to the last open table they’d spotted. A high top, back to the stranger now, giving him the opportunity to see your shape. He swears you’re sticking your ass out on purpose, so he can see the soft skin where your jeans meet the bottom of your top. 

“Joel,” Tommy’s voice cuts through the bustle of the bar. “If you’re gonna be so fuckin’ miserable, we can go. There’s another place-“

Joel stops him, teetering his beer towards his brother. “This is fine. We can stay for another round.”

~ 

You pull yourself away from the group after finishing your round of sugary drinks and shots, your head beginning to buzz. “I’ll get the next ones,” you giggle, pushing yourself out of your seat and steadying yourself on the ground. “Green tea shots?” The girls hoot and holler back to you, as you turn on your heels towards the crowded bar. 

Joel gets up, almost looking panicked, when he sees that you’re leaving your group. He downs the rest of his beer and tips his head towards Tommy, as if to ask, “another?”. Tommy nods and sits back in his chair, continuing to observe. Joel makes a beeline, able to slide right beside you in line.

You can smell the cologne and laundry detergent on his clothes while he stands behind you, shuffling on his feet. You can almost feel his nerves, radiating off of his large form. 

He can smell your perfume and shampoo, it’s intoxicating. 

Joel is served first, the bartender leaning forward to listen to his request. “Two Buds, and uh,” you feel a soft hand on your shoulder. If you couldn’t see that it was him, someone would have a black eye.

“What are you drinkin’, darlin’?”

His voice is sweet like honey as he dips down to be so unbelievably close to your ear, his hand now on the side of your arm. Heat spreads up your neck at his proximity. 

“Oh, I’m getting like 4 shots, you don’t have to-“

“What kinda shots?”

“Uh, green tea. Green tea shots.”

“And four green tea shots.”

The bartender nods as Joel slides his cash across the bar, turning, and looking down at you slightly. You feel impossibly small in that moment.

“You really did not have to do that, thank you.” You’re on your tip toes, a hand pressed against his chest now, lips as close to his ear as you can get. 

He shivers. He can’t remember the last time someone was this close to him in this way. 

“No problem,” he waves it off, taking the two beers by the neck of the bottle and moving over slightly for you to grab the shots. 

Your ass brushes across the front of his jeans, and he knows it’s intentional.

“Thanks again for the drinks,” and you’ve disappeared back into the crowd in a second.

Oh. Nevermind.

He can’t help but feel a little dejected, slinking back to his seat with Tommy and passing him his beer. “Struck out, huh?”

“Shut up.”

Joel watches your table still, annoyed, but not entirely surprised. Pretty stupid of him to think you’d want to fraternize with a man such as himself, so much older than you. Maybe he’d come off too strong?

His head is all but hanging in his hands when he watches you get up again, your friends coming along with you. He averts his eyes in embarrassment, not noticing that you’re making your way over to his table.

Tommy notices.

“Ladies!” He draws out, hands thrown up in the air. Joel looks up then, locking in eyes with you immediately.

“Didn’t think I’d leave you hanging, did ya cowboy?” A smile tugs at his lips as you extend a hand to him. “After you were so nice?”

He laughs a little, your other friend taking a hold of Tommy and pulling him towards the crowded dance floor. He’s very easily persuaded.

“Come dance with me!”

“Oh, I’m not a dancer,” he laughs, warm and honeyed. It makes heat pool in your core.

“Neither am I. Come anyways.”

All he can do is obey, taking your hand and letting you lead him away from the table. 

~

The music pulses under your feet as you end up in a tight line, shoulder to shoulder. He can’t stop looking at you, leaning down to speak into your ear. 

“I wasn’t kiddin’ when I said I didn’t know how to dance,” he explains, and his breath is hot against the curve of your ear.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it when we start goin’. Just follow me.”

And I saddle up my horse

And I ride into the city

I make a lot of noise

Cause the girls

They are so pretty

Joel’s eyes are parked on your body as you start to move along to the steps of the line dance, feet tapping against the hard wood of the floor beneath you. Your hands are up by your face, clapping along to the beat. He tries to follow along, at least stepping in the right direction, clapping at the right time, but it’s no use.

Your body is insatiable - hips rolling to the pounding music. The curves and lines of your ass, paired with the soft tissue of your breasts nearly busting out of the top you chose to wear. Your skin is supple, shining against the dance floor lights that are favouring him right now as he lets a red blush engulf the skin of his cheeks and neck. 

He wonders what it looks like underneath, peeled off and bunched up around your ankles, or thrown on the floor of his bedroom. He thinks of fingering the ties of your shirt, loosening them and pushing it off, his hand across the front of your throat as he makes you look at yourself. How pretty you are. Goosebumps spread across the exposed skin of his arm.

You grab his hand suddenly, and he’s taken out of his daydream. Your eyes are fiery as you let yourself get even closer to him, feeling bold enough to put his hand across the small of your back.

“Follow me,” you command, as he looks down at the footwork you’re doing along to the song.

Riding up and down Broadway

On my old stud Leroy

And the girls say

Save a horse, ride a cowboy!

He attempts to follow it again, egged on by the feeling of your hot skin against his thumb. He could honestly maybe cum just from this touch alone if he really tried.

It’s not actually as hard as he thought, if he concentrates. A few steps, repeated over and over again, until it comes naturally. You notice how easily he picks it up, smiling up at him, beaming up while he’s lost in thought. 

The song picks up, and the whole floor is enthralled by the dance. You see Joel’s smile light up the room, and he hasn’t dared to move his hand from your back. You don’t mind.

When your body turns toward his, he halts before almost running into you, still following the steps along to the song.

“Do you wanna get out of here?”

Your words take him by surprise, but they are not unwelcome. 

“Yes.” His hand envelops yours as he takes a look at Tommy, seeing that he’s still in the throws of the song with your friends.

Your hand leads him off the dance floor and towards the club bathroom, but he stops you, lips close to your ear again. “My truck is parked out back, if we want, a little more, um,” he clears his throat, “privacy.”

“Show me the way,” you smile, letting him pull you out the doors and into the darkness of the parking lot. 

He fishes for his keys nervously when you get to the side of his truck, an older model with blue paint. He can’t remember the last time he did anything like this, if he ever has, and it’s getting to his head.

“Let’s get in the back seat,” you say, taking him out of his trance. “Wanna feel you.”

He lets you in first, pushing across the bench seating as he slides in beside you. There’s a moment of awkwardness, before your hand reaches out to touch his denim-clad thigh. His breath hitches.

“Relax,” your smile is intoxicating to him, and he’s drinking you in. “We’re just here to have a little fun.”

He lets himself lurch forward, your lips pressed against his fervently. They’re rough and chapped, but cold from the beer he’d been nursing earlier, offering you some reprieve. 

Your hand snakes up his chest to the side of his throat, pulling him in to come closer and delve deeper. His tongue comes out to lick across your teeth and press against the soft wetness of your tongue, as his hand comes up to palm your breasts over your top, grabbing at any flesh he can get his fingers on. 

He quickly and deftly finds the bow Maddy had tied on the back, pulling it loose and letting the fabric relax so you he could pull it off of your form.

His hands began to explore the soft skin of your breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth as you arch into him and let a strained moan come from your lips.

“Fuck,” is all you can think to say, because his large hands are spread across your back, forcing you closer, and into him. Soft moans escape your lips as you let him take what he needs from you.

“Off,” he commands suddenly, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of your jeans and yanking them down, after you pop the button and undo the zipper. Your boots have come off at some point in the tussle, and now you’re naked in the back seat of a stranger’s car with not much to say for yourself.

You push his flannel down his shoulders as his weight hovers over you, revealing how strong he really is. Rippling biceps beneath his tight shirt, strong chest, kind eyes. 

You’re lying beneath him, when his hands come up under your thighs to push them apart and expose your pussy to him. He kneels between your soft thighs, thankful for the dark night sky around him, as he delves into your heat with his warm tongue.

You see stars when he makes first contact, a broad stripe of his tongue sending you into space. He’s hungry for it, immediately suckling onto your clit and wrapping his lips around it, strong hands still pushing your thighs apart. He’s taking his time to taste you, wild and intricate, feeling the bulge in his jeans strain against the zipper.

“Oh, fuck,” you manage to get out, in between breathless moans. Your hand came down to tangle in his hair, feeling the soft locks between your fingers, enjoying the way he’s making your hips roll onto his face. You can’t help but rut against him, soaking his wet mouth with your slick, using him to get yourself off.

He’s moaning into your pussy, working his own now-free cock in one of his hands, while the other delves two fingers into your core. Your breath catches in your throat when he fills you, stretching you open and wide for him, hitting the perfect spot to make your stomach start to spasm as you threatened to unravel beneath him.

“Fuck, so good, so so good,” you laugh breathlessly, the ecstasy beginning to take over as he continued to work your pussy, and you felt the familiar white-hot feeling along the back of your thighs.

“I’m gonna, — oh my god,” you couldn’t even finish your sentence before he was tonguing at you harder, eyes flickering up to watch you. “I’m gonna fucking come.”

“Good girl,” he growls into you, only offering you momentary reprieve from his tongue before using the rest of his energy to help you ride out your orgasm on his face. Your hips bucked and spasmed against him, the windows fogging up with your hot breath as you fucked yourself on his fingers. He let you pull on his hair as moans tumbled from your lips, breathless and spent.

When you managed to come down, he took his fingers from inside you and pumped his cock a few times, now bobbing in between the two of you as he slid himself up your body to kiss up your chest and capture your soft lips into a kiss.

“Sit back,” you whispered, pushing on his chest to bring him back sitting upright. His jeans were pooled around his ankles now, and you had pulled his t-shirt over his head to meet the other clothes on the floor of the truck. You positioned yourself across his lap, pumping his cock a few times and feeling the girth around your fingers.

He looked blissed out, head against the headrest, savouring the feeling of your pretty hand around him. If he looked down between your two bodies he might come right then, at the sight. 

“You did so much work, baby,” you coo, sitting down on his thick cock and bottoming out immediately, just to watch his lips fall open and eyes flutter close at how tight you are. “Made me cum so easy.”

Your lips latch onto his neck as you kiss and lap at the rough skin, letting your hips rock back and forth, slowly at first. Getting used to his length inside of you would’ve been tough if he hadn’t opened you up so easily beforehand. 

“Move,” his hands come to your waist, lightly forcing you to grind down on his lap. His cock was hitting inside of you so perfectly as you swallowed him into your body, looking down as his head lulled back against the seat. “So fuckin’ pretty,” he started, letting you set the pace of your hips, hand coming up to paw at your breast once more.

“You like this cock, don’t you?” You nod, letting your hand come to the seat behind his head and steadying yourself before beginning to bounce in his lap. “Yeah, fuck, yeah I do.”

He’s in his element now, any and all shyness from the newness of the situation melting away as he pounded into you mercilessly. The truck was no doubt shaking back and forth a little, a steadying hand print the only window to the outside world. Joel didn’t even care if people could see, they’d just be jealous.

“I’m gonna, fuck-,” he starts, eyes cloudy at the edges, vision fuzzy as he looked up at you. You were fucked out, cock-drunk on him, watching as he was coming undone underneath you as you squeezed around him. “Oh yeah?” You tease, not letting up on the rhythm of your hips, his hand coming down to your ass in a firm slap.

You moaned then, arching your back into him and sitting back. “Where do you want me?”

He’s desperate to cum now. Even the thought of your pretty face beneath him, taking his hot ropes on your soft pink lips is making him jerk forward into you with need.

He pushes you off, and you wince from the loss of contact. He’s fisting his cock above you right away, pink tip ready to explode any second at the sight of you, tits pressed together. Your mouth is open, and he sticks his fingers in between your lips as you moan around them, tasting yourself.

“Cum all over me,” you start, pinching your nipples with your free hand. “Fuck, I want it.”

It’s enough for his knees to buckle and hot cum to shoot all over your stomach and tits, painting you white with his seed. His eyes squeeze shut as you watch him ride his orgasm out, balls emptying onto you as he slows down and regains consciousness, taking a second to drink you in when he can open his eyes again. 

Your breath is heaving as you take a finger to swipe some of his cum onto your finger, dipping the digit into your mouth. His brows furrow together as he pulls you up to kiss your lips, devouring you, hands coming up to each side of your face as if to thank you for such a good time.

“Been a while since I did anything like that,” he laughs, and you follow shyly. “You got like, a napkin?” You giggle, as he grabs something in the front seat for you to clean up with. “Thanks. That was fun.”

He nods in agreement, catching his breath before pulling his t-shirt over his head. “I suppose we should go back in there,” he checks his appearance in the rearview mirror, all blushed and fucked out. 

You put your top back on over your body, turning towards him. “Can you lace me back up, please?”

His hands begin to work at you, tightening a bow at the bottom much like it had been done before.

A thought crossed your mind that made a giggle escape your lips. “What?” Joel asked, amused, pulling his jeans back on over his hips. 

“I don’t think I ever got your name.”

He laughs too, thinking of the events that had transpired given neither of you knew such a basic piece of information. 

“I guess we can stick with cowboy.”

[speaknow-sw]

𝑺𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒊𝒍𝒌

Summary : When your car broke down in the middle of 1950s Texas, you welcome with pleasure the help of a handsome cowboy.

Word count : 2.4k

Ｃｏｎｔｅｎｔ: mdni, 1950s AU, Cowboy! Anakin, Ditzy!, Wealthy! Reader, surnames (doll, peach, dollie,), kissing, vaginal fingering, brief pussy-eating, PiV, breeding kink, wife kink, mentions of grooming, pregnancy kink ?

AN : Okay so I got that AU in my head since FOREVER. That damn picture of Hayden with the Stetson got me ruining so many panties. Here’s a tribute to all the Cowboy delulu wifeys. Hope you’ll enjoy !!!

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the vast Texas plains. The air was thick with the scent of wild grass and the distant hum of cicadas. You, a city girl from New York, had never seen anything like it. The endless stretch of land, so different from the concrete jungle you were used to, was both beautiful and intimidating.

You had been on your way to visit a distant relative’s ranch, a place you’d never been before, when your car—an elegant, shiny Cadillac that was far too fancy for these dusty roads—had sputtered and died in the middle of nowhere. Now, here you were, miles from the nearest town, with no idea what to do.

Your pretty summer dress, all ruffles and soft pastels, was completely out of place here, with the silk scarf wrapped around your head to protect your hair from the burning sun. Your designer heels were sinking into the dirt with every step you took around the car, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. You were lost, both literally and figuratively, your usual confidence shaken by the vastness of this wild, untamed place.

As you leaned against the car, biting your lip in frustration, the sound of hooves reached your ears. You looked up, shielding your eyes from the sun, and saw a figure on horseback approaching from the distance.

As the rider drew closer, you could make out more details—tall, broad-shouldered, with a wide-brimmed Stetson casting a shadow over his face. His horse was a magnificent creature, all muscle and grace, moving with the kind of power that took your breath away.

When he finally stopped a few feet away from you, you got your first real look at him. The man was strikingly handsome, with sandy blonde hair that curled under his hat and deep blue eyes that seemed to see right through you. He was dressed in a simple white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal strong, tanned forearms, and worn jeans that clung to his legs in a way that made your heart race.

“Well, now, what’s a pretty little thing like you doin’ all the way out here ?” he drawled, his voice low and smooth, with just the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

You blinked up at him, momentarily lost for words. He was so different from the men you were used to—polished, city types in sharp suits and shiny shoes. This man was raw and rugged, with a presence that seemed to command the very air around him.

“My car…” you started, feeling a little foolish under his steady gaze. “It just… stopped. I don’t know what to do.”

He dismounted with an easy grace, the muscles in his arms flexing as he swung down from the saddle. As he approached, you could feel the heat radiating from his body, mixing with the warmth of the sun. He looked over the car, his expression thoughtful, before turning back to you.

“Well, I ain’t no mechanic, but I can take a look, dollie,” he offered, his tone kind but with an undercurrent of amusement, as if he found your predicament both endearing and a little amusing.

“Thank you,” you murmured, stepping aside to let him take a look under the hood. As he worked, you couldn’t help but watch him, the way his fingers deftly moved over the engine, the way his shirt clung to the muscles of his back as he leaned over.

After a few minutes, he straightened up, wiping his hands on a rag he’d pulled from his back pocket. “Looks like you’ve got a busted radiator, peach. You won’t be goin’ anywhere until it’s fixed.”

Your heart sank at his words. “Oh no, what am I going to do ?”

He glanced up at the sky, which was beginning to turn shades of pink and orange as the sun dipped lower. “It’s gettin’ late. Best thing would be to come back to my place. It ain’t too far, and you can stay the night. I’ll take a look at your car in the morning, doll, see what can be done.”

You hesitated for a moment, the idea of staying with a stranger making you nervous, but there was something about him—something solid and trustworthy—that made you nod in agreement. “Alright, thank you, cowboy. I really appreciate it.”

He gave you a nod and helped you up onto his horse, his hands firm and steady as they gripped your waist. You settled into the saddle, feeling a bit awkward, but his presence behind you was reassuring.

As you rode through the fields, the wind gently tugging at your hair, you couldn’t help but lean back against him, the warmth of his body seeping into yours. His arm was wrapped around you, holding the reins, and you could feel the strength in him, the quiet confidence that seemed to radiate from every part of him. 

Suddenly your silk scarf escaped from your head and you gasped. A strong hand latched backwards and caught the fabric. The cowboy winked at you and pocketed your scarf not without smelling it beforehand, leaving you speechless.

When you finally arrived at his ranch, the sky was a deep indigo, the stars just beginning to twinkle above. The house was a charming, rustic place, with a wide porch and warm, inviting lights glowing from the windows.

He helped you down from the horse, his hands lingering on your waist for just a moment longer than necessary, sending a thrill through you. As you stepped inside, you were greeted by the cozy warmth of the living room, the scent of wood and leather filling the air.

“You can make yourself at home,” he said, his voice softer now, almost intimate. “I’ll get you somethin’ to drink.”

You nodded, wandering over to the fireplace, your fingers lightly brushing over the mantel as you took in the room. When he returned, he handed you a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid glinting in the firelight.

As you took a sip, the warmth of the alcohol spread through you, mixing with the heat that had been steadily building inside you since the moment he’d appeared on that dusty road. You coughed your lungs out at the burn.

“I never did catch your name,” you said, looking up at him over the rim of your glass.

“Name’s Anakin,” he replied, his eyes locked onto yours. “Anakin Skywalker.”

You smiled, the name fitting him perfectly. “Thank you again, Anakin. For helping me.”

He took a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “It’s my pleasure, darlin’. Can’t leave a lady in distress.”

There was a charged silence between you, the air thick with something unspoken. You could feel the tension building, a magnetic pull that drew you closer to him, your heart pounding in your chest.

Before you knew it, he was right in front of you, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. His touch was warm, his thumb brushing over your skin in a way that made your breath catch.

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low and rough, filled with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine.

You could only nod, your voice failing you as you lost yourself in the intensity of his gaze.

And then he was kissing you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and demanding. It was like nothing you’d ever experienced before—raw, passionate, and filled with a desire that made your head spin.

You melted into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the solid muscles beneath his shirt. He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you, holding you against him as the kiss deepened.

His hands moved to the small of your back, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between you. You could feel the hard lines of his body against yours, the heat of his skin seeping through his shirt, igniting a fire in you that you hadn’t even realized was there.

You gasped as his lips moved to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made your knees weak, his stubble scratching deliciously against your throat. His hands were everywhere, sliding down your back, over your hips, exploring every inch of you with a hunger that matched your own.

“Anakin…” you breathed, your fingers tangling in his hair as he pressed you against the wall, his body pinning you there with a strength that made your pulse race.

“Shh,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low growl. “I’ve gotcha’, darlin’. Jus’ let me take care of ya’.”

And take care of you he did. He lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bedroom, where he laid you down on the soft, inviting bed. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, casting everything in a warm, golden light.

He stood above you for a moment, his eyes dark and intense as he took in the sight of you, his chest rising and falling with deep, steady breaths. And then he was on you, his hands and lips exploring every inch of your body, igniting a fire in you that burned hotter with every touch, every kiss.

Anakin's kisses trailed down your neck, his hands sliding over your dress, finding the zipper at the back. With a smooth motion, he pulled it down, the fabric slipping off your shoulders, exposing the delicate lace of your lingerie. His breath hitched at the sight, his eyes darkening with desire.

"Pretty, lil’ angel," he whispered, his voice husky as his fingers traced the outline of your bra, making your skin tingle. His lips followed the path of his hands, pressing hot kisses along your collarbone, down to the swell of your breasts, until you were arching into him, desperate for more.

You tugged at his shirt, your fingers fumbling with the buttons in your eagerness to feel his skin against yours. He chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine, before he helped you, shrugging out of the shirt and tossing it aside.

The sight of him, all hard muscles and golden skin, took your breath away. His chest was broad, his abs defined, and you couldn’t resist running your hands over his torso, feeling the heat and power of him beneath your fingertips.

He groaned at your touch, his hands slipping under your bra, pushing it up to free your breasts. His mouth was on you in an instant, his tongue teasing your nipple, sending jolts of pleasure through you that had you gasping his name.

His hands were everywhere, sliding down your sides, over your hips, pushing your dress the rest of the way off until you were lying there in nothing but your panties. He paused for a moment, just looking at you, his eyes roaming over your body with a hunger that made your skin flush with heat.

Then he was kissing you again, his mouth claiming yours in a kiss that was all-consuming, his hands sliding down to your thighs, spreading them apart as he settled between them. You could feel the hardness of him pressing against you, the evidence of his desire making you ache with need.

"Anakin," you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation as he kissed his way down your body, his hands hooking into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down with a slow, deliberate motion that left you trembling with anticipation.

He kissed the inside of your thighs, his stubble grazing your sensitive skin, making you shiver. And then his mouth was on you, his tongue stroking over your most sensitive spot, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you that made you cry out, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you.

He didn’t stop, his tongue and fingers working together to drive you higher and higher, until you were teetering on the edge, your body strung tight with need. And then he was inside you, filling you completely, his hips moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm that had you moaning his name, your nails digging into his back. « Gonna make you a mommy, » he grunted, biting your throat. His hands gripped your waist tightly probably letting bruises. He swallowed the sweet skin of your cleavage in his mouth, suckling hickeys and pressing hot, tongue kisses on your chair. « My sweet little wife, gonna drag you on the aisle, » he pounded harder in you, his large cock reducing you at a doll-like state, your cock drunk face driving his crazy. « You’ll gimme babies, huh ? As much babies as I want. Gonna keep you round and full of me. Mine. My wife, the mother of my children. » his thrusts got sloppy and his face contorted in a mask of need.

The pleasure built and built, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until it snapped, sending you spiraling into an orgasm so intense it left you shaking, your body clinging to his as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. You screamed your release, arching your back and curling your toes.

Anakin followed you over the edge, his own release spilling deep into you as he groaned your name, his body tensing above you before he collapsed, pulling you into his arms as you both lay there, breathing hard, your bodies tangled together in the aftermath. 

The night was a blur of passion and desire, a heady mix of pleasure and sensation that left you breathless and yearning for more. Anakin moved with a confidence that only came from someone who knew exactly what he wanted, and he made sure you knew it too. He took his time with you, savoring every moment, every gasp and moan that fell from your lips. He pushed you to the edge again and again, his touch driving you wild, until you finally tumbled over, your body arching into his as you were consumed by the pleasure that only he could give you. You couldn’t count how much time he made you cum and came himself but you sure knew your belly wasn’t this bloated when you started.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the only sound in the room the crackling of the fire and the soft rustle of the sheets as you settled into the warmth of each other’s embrace. Then he kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there as he murmured, "I knew you were somethin’ special, doll."

You smiled, a lazy, satisfied smile as you snuggled closer to him, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. "I guess I’ll have to find more reasons to get stranded in Texas," you teased, your voice soft and content, the Stetson since forgotten on the floor.

The End…

[cherrygarcia-07]

🍎Apple Dumplin’ // Spencer Reid🍎

Spencer meets a quirky girl at a bookstore and is instantly smitten

pairing: spencer x kitschy! sunshine! reader (no y/n or pre-chose name though reader is nicknamed Apple)

genre: fluff

content: meet cute, spencer rambles about fungi and alice in wonderland, spencer being absolutely pathetically whipped

notes: i picture this as early seasons reid but it’s not specified, 3rd person but no physical descriptions of the reader besides what she’s wearing

word count: 2.3k

I love apple dumplin’ and i have other things planned for this so I hope you like it🫶

masterlist

——————————————————————————-🍎——————————————————————————

Spencer often found himself in his favourite bookstore on his days off. It was small, quaint, tucked far away in the quiet side streets like a well kept secret. It was a magical hidden world you had to stumble across, and finding it felt like if you kept walking just that bit further you might feel the ground grow cold beneath your feet, the floor becoming the glistening snow of Narnia and if you listened closely you might just hear the faint trotting of Mr Tumnus in the distance. It was humble in size yet rich in the form of bookshelf upon bookshelf reaching floor to ceiling, the comforting woody smell of the pages filling them drifting through the air, encompassing Spencer in a gentle hug as it pulled him through the door. He took a sip of the coffee that seemed to be a permanent accessory of his, letting the warmth spread through his chest as he glanced over the leaves of the potted plants dotted around the store glowing in the warm light that shone from strings of fairy lights bordering the shelves. It was near silent, the words between the pages before him saying everything that needed to be said, though they were occasionally interrupted by a stifled cough or a sniffle from the shopkeeper leaning over a desk, sipping on coffee of his own. Spencer offered him a friendly smile, which was politely returned, before succumbing to the beckoning calls coming from the books before him, strolling over to raise his hand to their spines in greeting.

Where usually he would be drawn to textbooks and other non fiction works, today he found himself gazing upon the classics and fantasy novels, a habit of his after a rough case. While he loved to learn far more than he could ever express, sometimes he just needed a new world to lose himself in, someplace magical and adventurous, far, far away from the violent reality he found himself in far too often. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his job- he did-, but there was also an eternal childlike wonder within him yearning for the exciting freedom of swashbuckling pirates or for the thrilling tales of cowboys in the wild west. It was carefree, it was fearless, things that he could never allow himself to be but looked up to with boyish admiration, though this he’d never admit. Behind him, a bell rang signalling the entrance of another customer but he kept his eyes locked on the aged book spines in front of him, gold lettering jumping out at him and keeping him firmly in place.

Some time passed, spindly fingers having flicked through book after book, keen eyes having soaked up story after story as he gently pushed another back into its spot on the shelf. He stepped back slightly, eyes now looking up and scanning for something else to read when he rather roughly collided paths with someone behind him, the force of the crash bursting the bubble of tranquility he’d been so content in as a book dropped to the floor with a heavy thud.

‘Oh my goodness, I am so, so sorry!!” Spilled a sweet voice from the person beside him as Spencer instinctively ducked to the floor to retrieve her book.

As he prepared to stand up his eyes met a pair of bright red tights tucked into a similarly bright pair of green mary-jane shoes. Rising to his feet, he took in the complete kaleidoscope of colour staring back at him with wide, apologetic eyes outlined with sharp, brown wings and long, curled lashes. Shiny hair either side of colourfully clad shoulders bounced as she shook her head, apologising once again as she tried to adjust the apple shaped crossbody bag resting against her hip despite the stack of books in her arms.

“It’s alright, don’t worry about it” Spencer said as he placed the book on top of the pile with a small smile.

“Are you hurt at all?” She asked, batting painted eyelids in his direction.

Spencer felt momentarily lost for words in her gaze, involuntarily letting out a quiet gasp as his brain scrambled to answer the simple question. The sudden ache in his chest probably didn’t qualify as a ‘yes’ anyway. He felt like asking if she had perhaps stepped out of one of the books he had been flicking through, her aura unlike anything he’d ever been in the presence of and he couldn’t help the way his heartbeat sped up and his stomach flipped.

Mouth opening and closing in a fish-like manner, he realised he still hadn’t answered her.

“Uh, um no- not at all. I- are you okay?” He choked out, trying to ignore the small wobble in his voice but then she smiled- a wide, enamouring smile that reached her twinkling eyes and he felt his breath catch in his throat as he took a long swig of coffee to soothe the feeling.

“Oh thank goodness! I’m just fine, don’t you worry about me.” Polka dotted nails twitched against the bottom book on the pile as she struggled to keep hold of the tower in her arms, clearly carrying more than she anticipated buying.

Spencer’s brows furrowed with intrigue as he took in the myriad of topics written on the spines: there was a cheesy romance novel or two; a book about plants and fungi; about astronomy and constellations; mythology; philosophy; and finally what looked like a collector’s edition of Alice In Wonderland, the book which he had picked off the ground for her. If she was studying anything specific he couldn’t tell what it was.

“Do you need a hand with those?” He asked, nodding towards the pile and a blush crept up his neck when she let out a candied giggle and said yes. Carefully, he took the top 3 books in one hand with his coffee in the other, leaving her with 4 which she could hold tucked in one arm instead.

“Thank you so much, you’re a life saver!” She beamed, introducing herself before adding, “but my friends call me Apple, bet you can’t guess why.” She joked, referencing the several apple themed accessories adorning her outfit.

Spencer had to admit she did kind of look like a fruit had grown legs and come to life, but it was endearing, refreshing.

Laughing, he responded, “I’m Spencer.” Usually he would be thankful both his hands were full to give him an excuse to refuse a handshake from a stranger yet for some reason with her he found himself cursing the fact, wanting to reach out for her hand and admire the chunky rings that sat around her fingers.

They turned around, heading to the counter side by side, a shy silence between the two of them until she tilted her head up at him, “oh, by the way I really like your mismatched socks” she said, nodding down to where one red and one green ankle peeked out of his converse. “We’re totally matching, I must’ve been destined to run into you today.”

At this, Spencer turned to face her, and if her words weren’t enough to completely fluster him, the newfound proximity to her face certainly was. To say she was beautiful was an understatement. She was indescribable, unlike anyone he had ever met. It wasn’t even conventional attractiveness, though she certainly had that too: it was the way she looked at him with nothing but kindness as if they had known one another forever; the way the freckles on her rosy cheeks bunched up as her grin illuminated her whole face; the way her eyes twinkled so clearly he felt the urge to throw away the astronomy book she still held for he could already see the constellations staring right back at him. He cringed at himself a little, realising how starved he must be to be so whipped from such a short interaction- but then again who wouldn’t feel the same after hearing that honey-like voice and that sugary laugh of hers. Blushing even harder than before, he quickly faced away from her again, keeping his head forward.

“Thank you. I uh, I like your outfit too. Very colourful.” He forced out, silently cursing himself for how simple his vocabulary had become around her.

“Really? Oh, that’s so sweet of you.” She beamed, and although Spencer couldn’t see it he could still feel the joyous energy radiating from her. “I’ve been told I’m kinda clown like, not that I mind. I guess I should learn some magic tricks or something to complete the look, huh?” Apple joked again, and Spencer’s ears turned pink as she giggled.

“Actually, if you were going to pursue modern clowning you’d need to tackle more than just magic tricks; like juggling, stilt walking or even ventriloquism-“ He cut himself off with a quick apology, not that she seemed to mind his impending ramble much to his surprise. “But I’m pretty good at practical magic myself if you ever need a tutor,” he humoured her before realising how oddly flirty that had sounded and if it were even possible he turned a whole shade redder as he resisted the urge to slap himself in the side of the head, now also feeling ridiculously uncool for having boasted about practical magic in the first place.

To his disbelief, she seemed almost impressed and said “well then, if I ever go into the magic business I know just who to call”, offering him a playful wink which he caught out of the corner of his eye, heart threatening to beat out of his chest.

Figuring it the best way to protect his brain from becoming mush entirely, he shifted the focus back to the books they now both carried.

“What are you studying, exactly?” He asked, clearing his throat and regaining some stability in his voice as they set the books down on the counter, the shopkeeper’s eyes darting between them with a seemingly amused look Spencer couldn’t quite place.

“Nothing in particular, actually.” She sighed fondly, tracing the spine of one of the books with a white and red nail, “I find myself interested in just about everything. There’s nothing better than curling up on the couch with some kind of encyclopaedia, I think.”

Spencer’s eyes fell back to the astronomy book on the counter as he wondered just where in the sky this shooting star of a woman had fallen from.

“No way, me too!” He exclaimed excitedly, feeling childishly giddy all of a sudden.

“At the risk of sounding like a nerd I’d say I’m pretty into fungi at the minute.” Apple looked away sheepishly, watching as the shopkeeper scanned her book on the very topic and placed it into a paper bag.

Picking up the copy of Alice In Wonderland, a grin tugged at Spencer’s lips. “Not at all, I find fungi fascinating myself. In fact, the Amanita Muscaria- more commonly known as the Fly Agaric or Fly Amanita- is heavily featured in Alice In Wonderland and is said to have been an inspiration in the creation of the story, so much so that the effects caused by it’s hallucinogenic properties are often referred to as ‘Alice In Wonderland syndrome’ as it distorts the consumers perception of reality much like it does in the novel.” He glanced up with a nervous smile on his face, embarrassed slightly at his inability to keep his ravings to himself and he hoped that he hadn’t bored the young woman beside him.

Much to the excitement of the butterflies in his stomach, Apple seemed enthused, nodding intently as she clung onto every word, and they flapped their wings hard, fluttering around in every direction as Spencer tried to catch his breath which had faltered once again in an attempt to calm them. Her skin seemed to glow under the light of the string lights of the bookstore, like some kind of eccentric angel sent down just for him and he noticed how the fruity scent of her perfume waltzed around the room, mingling with the earthy smell of the books in a heavenly dance, like they were meant to be, her world and his. He traced the line of her jaw with his eyes as she turned to pay the shopkeeper, it’s shape surely carved by only the finest of craftsmen, the same one who must’ve been responsible for the elegant shape of her nose that ended in a curve atop the cupids bow of her soft, pink lips.

A delicate hand reached over the counter, retrieving the bag of books with a smile and a sugary ‘thank you’ that rang in Spencer’s ears like wedding bells.

“You know, I work at the bakery across the street from here. You have to come in sometime and pick something out, as a thanks for helping me today.” She spoke, gesturing out the window to a cosy looking pale yellow building with chalk drawings of apples and flowers in the window.

“You don’t have to do that, it was nothing really.” Spencer murmured bashfully, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“It was gentlemanly.” Apple tilted forward in her kitschy shoes, forcing him to meet her gaze, which he struggled to do so given the way these 3 words had managed to turn him to jelly where he stood, “I want to pay you back.” She batted her lashes at him once again, as if she knew he wouldn’t be able to say no to her.

A breathy chuckle escaping him, Spencer agreed and felt his heart swell as she squealed in delight, waving goodbye as she turned on her heels and practically skipped out the door.

In a daze, he returned to the books he had been browsing earlier, only to leave empty handed because what story could possibly compare to the fairy tale he had just experienced right there?

[ailoda]

updated: 01.02.25

ᯓ ✈︎ fluff

Love of My Life (❤): the dagger squad meets hangman's best-kept secret. (@moondancediner)

I'll Carry You (❤): Hangman and his wife attend a naval ball. When her shoes give her blisters, Hangman ensures that she gets back to the car comfortably. (@tip-top-cloud-surfer)

Heart of Texas (❤✘): while in Texas for your best friends bachelorette trip, the last thing you expect to find is the green eyed cowboy in the bar. Or to find him again months later. (@sunnysidevans)

Easy Skies (❤): feeling cuddly so you end up cuddling Jake for the first time in the early stages of your relationships. How this would lead to them napping together? Nothing but praises and love affirmations between them. Soft kisses. Readers first kiss with Jake. (@thewulf)

Tugging on the bottom of someone’s shirt. (❤) (@spideystevie)

The Orange (❤): you and Jake share an orange. He’s in love with you. (@violentdelightsandviolentends)

↪︎ For Eternity (❤): you and Jake share an orange. He's never loved you more. (part two)

"Can... can you hold me? please?" (❤) (@spideystevie)

Teacher's Pet (❤): you need to come up with a lesson plan to teach your eighth graders about aerodynamics, only, you barely understand a word of it yourself. Luckily for you, your boyfriend has a pretty decent knowledge of the subject. (@honkytonk-hangman)

Take Care of Business (❤): the last time you met Lieutenant Jake Seresin, the war was still ongoing and you’d been in a floundering engagement. Back then you’d seen the possibility for more in his eyes, and now? Well, now you could explore it. (@honkytonk-hangman)

When Jake Met Polly (❤): Jake likes to flirt with his Air Traffic Controller. (@honkytonk-hangman)

8 o'clock (❤): "stop looking at me like that...like you’ve seen me naked.” (@roosterbruiser)

Hangman's Mystery (❤): Jake takes you to meet the crew after claims of him hiding you from them. You’re extremely shy and aren’t a fan of lots of people, making Jake be more protective of you. For once, Rooster knows more about Jake’s life than the others do. (@0mg-bird)

Nothing But A Gentleman (❤): Jake is obsessed with you. you eat it up. you’re obsessed with his obsession. but also with him. (@simpforrooster)

Wedding Day (❤): Hangman falls in love with his wife all over again when he sees her in her wedding dress for the first time. (@tip-top-cloud-surfer)

Call Me Daddy (❤): when your daughter mistaken Jake for her father, you're more than embarrassed. That until she tells you why she called him that. (@eternalsams)

Turbulence (❤): Jake would never get over how ironic it was. You, the wife of a naval pilot, scared of a little turbulence. (@mydarlingrose)

Careful Hands, Precious Cargo (❤): when Jake cups your face. (@winchesterandpie)

Drunk Confessions (❤): you take care of a drunk Hangman. (@spideystevie)

"Stay As Long As You Want" (❤) (@spideystevie)

In Sickness... (❤✧): Jake feels his pulse jump and his stomach fly when he talks to or about you. Obviously, this must mean he’s gravely ill. (@honkytonk-hangman)

↪︎ ...And In Health (❤): a year after Jake has come to terms with his sickness, he might just have the opportunity to find the cure. (part two)

Always Second Choice (❤✧): but you're always Jake's first choice. (@lulunothulu)

Sunkissing (❤): eight and a half months Dagger had been at sea, which is honestly one of the shorter deployments Jake had been on, certainly not one he’d have usually complained about, except that this time, for the first time, Jake had somewhere else he wanted to be aside from in his jet. (@honkytonk-hangman)

Same Boat (❤): based on Same Boat by Lizzy McAlpine. (@winchesterandpie)

Flygirl (❤): Whiskey is the Dagger Squad’s favorite bartender, and Hangman’s best friend... when he decides to take her flying long repressed feelings bubble to the surface. (@vivalas-vega)

Safety Net (❤): “you are such a nerd.” (@selencgraphy)

new! It's All About You (❤✘): 4 times Jake thought about marrying you and the 1 time he did. (@bussyslayer333)

[schlattslambo]

a little old fashioned || schlatt

part one

warnings: (y/n) being used, mentions of a previous relationship, calling schlatt jay

note: okay i may have gone a little long with this one but please enjoy!!

you weren’t normally one to frequent bars. frankly, you hated them. there were so many gross men - and even women sometimes - that insisted on sitting with you. breathing your air and replacing it with alcohol laced carbon dioxide. they would flirt with you, getting close with warm breath on your ear. the feeling made your skin crawl. you weren’t even sure why you allowed your friends to drag you here. your breakup wasn’t even that bad. sure, your ex was online looking for a new girl to fuck the day after he broke up with you, and he broke up with you on your birthday, but things happen.

and so you sit, eyes focused on the bead of condensation sliding down the side of the drink that you’ve been nursing for the better part of an hour. the friends who insisted you come out are on the dance floor, and have been for roughly half the time you guys have been out. music blares with some country song that you’re pretty sure you know the name of but can’t put your tongue on. your friend comes bouncing up, alcohol happily buzzing through her system.

“you gotta come dance!” she yells over the music. “you can’t just mope all night.”

“i’m not moping,” you reply, picking at the corner of the coaster that your drink sits on.

“babe you’re literally sitting here like this,” your friend plops into the booth across from you, glaring at your drink. you can’t help but laugh.

“i don’t look like that!” you counter.

“bullshit!” your friend laughs. “you have horrible resting bitch face! now come on!”

you allow your friend to yank you out of the booth and onto the dance floor. your shoes stick to the floor slightly with each step, but it’s hard to hear the noise over the music. your friend falls into step with the people around you, flawlessly line dancing. you look at her.

“when the fuck did you learn to line dance?” you ask.

“i took those dance classes that kyle was telling us about,” she replies with a grin. “turns out i’m the best line dancer since that girl in footloose.”

you attempt to dance as well, but you’re not exactly rhythmically inclined, so you bump into the man next to you. you turn and begin to apologize, but his warm brown eyes stop you. he’s tall, nearly twice your size, and his facial hair is…impressive. a cowboy hat sits on his head but allows a few dark brown curls to rest on his forehead. his large hands grip your shoulders to steady you as he gives you a smile.

“careful there,” he says. “you okay?”

you nod, finding yourself void of any response. this man is attractive. intimidatingly so. he’s got a little chub to him - which in all honesty gets you hotter than a whore in church - and the flannel he has on has buttons that are just begging to be popped by you ripping it off of him. but he’s also muscular. you aren’t sure you’ve ever seen anyone like him before.

a chuckle brings you back to earth, and you realize you’ve been staring at this guy for the better part of a minute. your face burns and you immediately look down.

“if you two lovebirds aren’t gonna dance, then move, would ya!” a gruff voice cuts through the music, causing the man in front of you to drop his hold on you.

you take the chance to go back to your seat. coming here was obviously a mistake, so you fish your phone from your bag and attempt to get an uber. unfortunately, all of the ubers are either way too far or super expensive. you weigh your options. you could either spend a lot of money on a ride home, or risk walking home. you quietly chew on your lip, listing the pros and cons of each option.

you look up as someone sits across from you. its not either of your friends, but the man from earlier. he grins at you, his eyes soft.

“hi there doll,” he replies. “sorry for that back there.”

“it’s okay,” you reply.

a silence lingers between the two of you, and you’re not sure how to break it. you’re nervous and can barely bring yourself to look at him. you want to fill the silence, make him not think you’re boring, but every time you open your mouth, nothing comes out. thankfully, before you make a fool out of yourself, he speaks.

“my name’s jay, by the way,” he smiles at you. “what can i call you, doll? other than gorgeous, of course.”

“(y/n),” you reply.

“(y/n),” jay replies, as if tasting your name on his tongue. “thats a very pretty name. it suits a pretty girl like you.”

your skin prickles in anxiety as jay grins at you. you’re also pretty sure your entire body is red. why is he flirting with you? there’s a bar full of people, and there’s at least 15 beautiful girls in the bar. you’re also not skinny by any means, which you’re slowly learning to love. why did he pick you to talk to?

“thank you,” you manage, clearing your throat. “i like your name too.”

jay’s smile warms your heart slightly. he seems genuine, but you can’t help but reinforce the walls that you keep up just to be safe.

“do you come out often?” jay asks. you shake your head.

“not really, i’m not a big bar kind of person,” you admit. “i’d rather stay home with a cocktail and read.”

“me neither,” jay replies. “my friend ted decided that we were gonna dress up and go out tonight. i’m not usually wearing all this.”

a flirty remark sits at the back of your throat. you know it’s a little out of your comfort zone to outwardly flirt with people, you’re more of a stare and hope they get your brainwaves kind of person, but you figure why not. neither of you tend to go out so its now or never.

“well the hat really suits you,” you smile shyly. “and the boots.”

jay’s face flushes, and it’s dark enough that you can see it even in the dim lighting of the bar. a smile pulls on the corners of your lips. you adore when boys blush, especially boys who seem rugged and not the blushing type like jay. it’s absolutely adorable and you’re trying to think of ways to keep him blushing.

“well thank you, doll,” jay smiles. “your hair is beautiful. and i love the color of your eyes. i could get lost in them.”

now it’s your turn to blush. you’re not used to this kind of flirting. your ex would always compliment your body, but never took the time to look into your eyes while doing it. just as you’re about to mumble a thank you, jay speaks again.

“are you drinking tonight?” he asks.

you nod. “i am, yes.” you reply.

“c’mon, let me get you a drink,” jay offers as he stands, extending a hand for you.

you take it hesitantly and jay walks with you to the bar. “i can get my own drink, jay,” you say, smiling at him.

“pretty girls like you should never buy your own drinks,” jay says. “now what’ll you have?”

“vodka cran,” you manage.

jay winks at you before turning to the bartender. he orders his own drink, an old fashioned, before smiling at you. you look up at him, searching his face for any signs that he might be just doing this for fun, but you can’t find any. his brown eyes are warm, and that blush is still sitting on his cheeks.

he hands you your drink and you sip it, noting how he takes the tiniest sip of his own drink.

“does your friend bring you to bars often?” you ask. jay shrugs.

“sometimes,” he admits. “usually we just hang out at my place, but today he wanted to try something different. he’s the one with the white shirt dancing with the girl with blonde hair.”

you grin, spotting your friend in the man’s arms. his hands are on her waist and hers are on his shoulders.

“that’s my friend he’s dancing with,” you smile. “she’s got a thing for cowboys.”

“well ted isn’t exactly a real cowboy,” jay chuckles. “more like the nerd who reads about them falling in love with city girls.”

“hey!” you giggle. “those books are good!”

with that sentence, the tension between you two dissipates, leaving you both relaxed and smiling. it might be the drinks, but you notice that jay’s shoulders are more relaxed. after a moment, you figure it wouldn’t be so bad if you openly flirted with him. besides, you probably wouldn’t ever see him again. a tap on your shoulder makes you turn and your stomach sink.

“well hey there, petal,”

standing in front of you is your ex. all 6’2 of him. he’s wearing his stupid hat - the wilderness explorer hat, you called it - and the flannel that never quite fit him. anger bubbles up in your gut at the sight of him. you grip your drink so hard that you’re sure the glass might shatter.

“hi,” you reply coldly.

“didn’t think i’d see you here,” your ex replies. “i thought for sure you’d be moping in your room.”

“why the fuck are you here?” you grit. “and what makes you think i want to talk to you?”

“just wanted to see how you were holding up,” your ex smiles. “and i’m on a date.”

“okay?” you ask. “im sure whoever you’re on a date with won’t be too happy that you’re talking to your ex. do they know you left me on my birthday?”

jay’s ear twitches at that statement. what the fuck do you mean he broke up with you on your birthday? before he can register his own movements, he places a hand on your shoulder, pressing you into his side.

“is this guy bothering you, baby?” he asks.

your ex’s eyebrows shoot up into his receding hairline. he wasn’t expecting anyone to come to your defense, especially a man that’s taller than he is.

“yeah, he is.” you reply, playing along by wrapping your arm around jay’s waist. “i’d like him to leave.”

“you heard her, get lost,” jay glares at your ex.

“you do realize that she’s barely gonna talk to you, have anxiety over the most minimal shit, and then play the victim?” your ex replies before walking away.

your shoulders sag and you let out a long breath. out of all the people you would rather die than run into, he just had to be one of them.

“i’m sorry, did you say that he left you on your birthday?” jay asks. you nod, the familiar lump rising in your throat.

without saying another word, jay grabs your cheeks and makes you look up at him.

“that makes him a pussy,” he tells you. “and i don’t think he’s on a date, because he just left.”

you nod, eyes shining with tears. “thank you jay,” you reply. “you didn’t need to do that.”

“don’t worry about it doll,” he replies with a smile. “i don’t have to do this either.”

you watch as jay walks out of the bar. you can hear a few words being exchanged before he comes back in, examining his knuckles.

“jay, what did you do?” you ask.

he shrugs. “have him a little attitude adjustment.” he says simply. “now, do you want another drink?”

you look up at jay, who gives you a smile. out of all the things you thought would happen tonight, falling for a guy in a cowboy hat who punched your ex in the face was not one of them. and just like that, the tiniest crack forms in the walls you put up.

[childrenofcain-if]

The D scenario was way too sad, author, I'm begging for you to make it up for our sad rockstar cowboy/cowgirl 😭👺

here’s the pt. 1 of this.

the phone call ended with a terrible finality. the sound of D’s voice cutting off mid-sentence felt like a door slamming shut, loud and unmistakable.

you stood in your new york city apartment, one hand still gripping the phone, the other clenched at your side. your heart was racing, every beat a thud of regret, anger, and guilt. the city hummed outside your window, a discordant symphony of car horns and distant chatter, but you barely noticed it. all you could hear was D’s voice echoing in your head, sharp and raw: “i’m here, waiting by the damn phone every night like some—some pathetic—”

you ran a hand through your hair, pulling at the roots as you began pacing back and forth across the narrow strip of space between the kitchenette and the window. the floorboards creaked under your weight, an old building’s way of reminding you it was there, but it couldn’t anchor you.

“what is wrong with me?” you muttered, your voice harsh in the quiet room.

your anger had already started to unravel, leaving only the jagged edges of shame. you replayed the conversation in your head, your own voice rising, defensive and cold. and then D’s, breaking apart in places they hadn’t meant to let you hear.

D wasn’t needy. not really. at least not to you. they were just... D. passionate, fiery, always a little too much and never quite enough, all at the same time. and you—you were a mess in your own way, carrying your ambitions like armor and forgetting, sometimes, to reach out from behind it.

you slumped onto the couch, your elbows on your knees, your head in your hands. this wasn’t who you wanted to be. this wasn’t the kind of partner you wanted to be.

after what felt like hours, you finally sat back, exhaling shakily. the truth was as clear as it was painful: you’d both been wrong. neither of you was handling this well. the distance, the texts, the calls—it was a pressure cooker, and tonight it had finally boiled over.

but you loved D. that thought settled over you like a weight and a balm all at once. you loved them, and love meant showing up, not just when it was convenient, but especially when it wasn’t.

you grabbed your phone, fingers flying over the screen as you pulled up flight options. austin. friday night. it wasn’t exactly cheap, but money wasn’t an issue. you booked the ticket before you could overthink it, the confirmation email lighting up your inbox a second later.

***

the week passed in a haze of classes and half-hearted meals. every time your phone buzzed, your stomach twisted, but the messages were always mundane. updates from classmates, a sale alert from your favorite store. nothing from D.

by the time friday rolled around, you were vibrating with nerves. your luggage was packed and sitting by the door. you made sure your phone was fully charged, and set your alarm two hours earlier than necessary. you checked on your luggage three times before finally locking it and hauling it out of the apartment.

the subway station was crowded, the air thick with the smell of metal and sweat. you stood with one hand on your phone, your other clutching your bag, eyes darting to the mytransit nyc app and the digital displays above to make sure you don’t miss the subway leaving for the airport. five more minutes to go.

and then you saw them.

at first, it didn’t register. just another figure in the sea of commuters near the turnstiles, fumbling with a yellow metrocard at the machine. but then they turned, and your heart stopped.

D.

they looked different here, out-of-place but somehow not. the edges of their leather jacket were fraying, and their doc martens were scuffed, a sharp contrast to the polished shoes and sleek coats of the people bustling around them. but their eyes—those stormy gray eyes you could pick out in a crowd of thousands—were unmistakable.

D saw you at the same moment.

for a second, neither of you moved. the station swirled around you, a blur of noise and movement, but it might as well have been silent.

then, like magnets, you were drawn together. you barely registered your feet moving, barely noticed the way people swerved to avoid you. and then you were there, your arms around D, their arms around you, and it was everything.

the kiss was messy, desperate, and entirely too public. you could feel D’s hands shaking where they gripped your shoulders, could taste the salt of what might have been tears.

when you finally pulled back, your foreheads pressed together, you were both laughing breathlessly.

“w-what are you doing here?” you asked, the words tumbling out between shaky breaths.

D gave a sheepish smile, one hand rubbing at the back of their neck.

“i was coming to see you. i couldn’t—” their voice caught, and they shook their head, trying again. “i couldn’t stand it. i couldn’t stand being apart anymore.”

“i was on my way to the airport,” you said, still holding onto them like they might vanish if you let go. “i booked a flight to austin. i was coming to apologize. to fix this.”

D’s arms tightened around you, their eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your chest ache.

“you don’t need to apologize,” they said, their voice low and rough. “i’m the one who... god, i’ve been a mess without you. i keep overthinking everything, and then i get scared, and then i just—” they broke off, exhaling shakily. “i love you so much, and i’m sorry. for all of it.”

“i love you and i’m sorry too,” you said, reaching up to cup their face. their skin was warm under your palms and the familiar scent of expensive marlboros, leather and cinnamon made your head spin pleasantly. “i should’ve called more. i should’ve—”

“stop,” D interrupted, shaking their head. “we’re both idiots. let’s just agree on that and call it even.”

you laughed, a wet, shaky laugh that felt more like relief than humor. “deal.”

a few people were giving you strange looks as they looked over you two, but you both ignored them. one older woman smiled as she passed, muttering something about young love.

you took D’s hand, threading your fingers through theirs.

“come on,” you said, a grin breaking through the tears. “i can’t wait to show you around the city.”

D huffed a laugh. “don’t know if i’m gonna like it too much,” they said, but their eyes were soft, and their grip on your hand was firm.

“you’ll like it,” you promised. “i’ll make sure of it.”

D glanced at you, their gray eyes soft and full of something that made your chest feel too small.

“maybe,” they said. “but even if i don’t... i’ve already found you here, that alone makes the city tolerable in my book.”

[formosusiniquis]

twins of the heart

Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington; Robin Buckley/Carol Perkins wc: 2141 | T | tags & themes: Meeting the SO; No-longer Secret Relationships; Humor & the Tiniest Hint of Angst For @stobinmonth Day 11: matching | AO3

“I'm not changing.”

“We are not meeting my girlfriend for the first time matching, Steven.” Robin crosses her arms, ironically -- probably he's never really understood that -- matching his stance as she stands across from him.

Standing beside their selected arm chairs -- Robin's plaid with low arms and a springy cushion and Steve’s sunken and leather with the tall back -- he feels like Clint Eastwood. In a standoff with Robin, who's a second cowboy he doesn't know the name of even after weeks of watching spaghetti westerns with Wayne. She's got a smirk on her face. 

She thinks he's going to give in.

“We're in agreement then,” he says, “you've got a closet full of other shirts go find one.”

Robin looks seconds from ripping his button up off his shoulders, like it's his fault she's finally realized how much fun the bright colors are instead of the neutral pattern clashing she used to do.

“Your closet is bigger, she's my girlfriend you go change.”

“No, I've got my whole outfit planned.”

“I don't care that you matched your shoes to your shirt.”

It’s true that he has done that. It's also true that he has a backup outfit that he could use instead. But something about the frazzled way she’s looking at him, the way she’s tugging at the ends of her hair is tapping into his inner need to be a problem.

So instead of going back to his room. Instead of continuing what could, without a doubt, be an hours long argument until she either gave up and went to change or they went to the restaurant matching. He takes a step forward, settles down into the embrace of his chair and crosses his leg over his knee.

“Let’s talk about why it’s so important this ‘first’ meeting goes well.” He puts the air quotes around first because he knows how much it annoys her. Clasping his fingers on his knee when he’s done. “Are you worried that this sincerity of matching with your soulmate will scare her away?”

“You’ve taken one psych class, and it was developmental psych. For children.”

“Is this hostility real, or is it an easier emotion to express than fear?”

“I hate you. I hate you. I don’t know why we’re doing this.”

It wouldn’t be hard to keep this bit going, but Robin’s stress is quickly moving from funny joke to actually concerning. “It’s Carol, babe. I probably know your girlfriend better than you do.”

“Great,” Robin claps her hands, spins in a circle like she’s about to go back to her room but thinks better of it. “You can stay home then and I can make that table for three a table for two instead.”

“Robs.”

“You have to change.”

“We’re meeting,” he says slowly repeating her question from earlier in the same cadence he uses with his daycare students, “because you want your two favorite people to get along and because you feel bad that you were secretly dating my old best friend for a whole month.”

“She’s changed.” Robin says.

“I’m sure she has,” he agrees. It would be stranger if she hadn’t. Of the three of them Carol had always been the smartest, the quickest to point out what they had missed. Picking at a stray cat hair his lint roller had missed, he wonders how long after he’d left that Carol realized he’d been right about them being dicks. Wondered how long before she stopped being so stubborn and did something about it too.

“You’ve changed.” She says slowly like she’s repeating the answer to a question he’s asked three times already.

That doesn’t feel fair to either of them, and he’s ready to say that, when Robin’s hand flapping distracts him. “Except you haven’t, you’re just Steve and you’ve always been Steve but what if she has changed and you all can’t stand each other.”

“Well you’ll have to break up with her then.” He uncrosses his legs, braces his arms on his knees, a mockery of that ‘I mean business’ pose that Hopper would take at the end of a lecture,

Only Robin doesn’t laugh. Her eyes drop down to her clasped, nervous hands instead.

“No.”

“I mean,” she starts to say the expression on her face almost as guilty as it was when he answered the phone just to be shot back in time at the sound of Carol’s complaining the second she hears the line open.

The snap of her gum and the, “Babe, you are not going to believe this.” Had been so jarring he’d had to check that he was in the shitty, smoke-stained kitchen in their apartment and not the white walls of his parent’s house. When he’d caught Robin’s eyes hers had been wide enough he could see the pink in the corners. Panic like he hadn’t even seen in the Upside Down.

“I’m sure I wouldn’t,” he had said, hearing the soft sound of Carol’s surprise through what’s passing for a connection. “I’ll pass you over to Robin now, Babe.”

That night she’d done what passes for grovelling: take out from the place he likes but she can’t stand, Some Like it Hot already playing on the TV.

They didn't like arguing and like apologies even less. Robin was sorry he was sure, even if he was less sure why she hadn't told him about Carol in the first place. She hadn't had any problem complaining about her when she realized they were sharing the same campus.

And now they were wearing matching shirts in their living room, minutes from being late to a dinner with a girlfriend she’s thinking about breaking up with. Maybe that's why she hadn't said anything last month or last week or any time in between when her “study sessions” at “the library” went late enough that they missed getting to see each other before work and bed.

Steve is fine being the voice of reason, even if hes not sure why he has to be. “You’re not going to break up with your girlfriend if we don’t get along.”

“I will break up with whoever I want to.”

“Robin.”

“Steve.” Her arms are crossed, pulled tight against her chest. 

He thinks they’re going to have to actually talk about this. Not just bicker and tease and ignore the places where the hurt feelings come from. Because hurt feelings aren’t them, they aren’t something they do. They’re Steve and Robin. They don’t fight, disagree, or really argue -- because not wanting to get pizza from the place twenty minutes away that doesn’t deliver for the second time that week is none of those things.

“Were you ever going to tell me you were even seeing someone? Or should I just be glad I didn’t walk in on you eating out in the kitchen.”

“There wasn’t anything to tell.” Robin snaps like a rubber band pulled too far: sudden and it’s break more surprising than painful.

“At some point there was, and since we aren’t actually attached at the brain I really don’t know what you’re thinking.” He keeps his voice level but now that the words are leaving his mouth it’s like the slow peel of a scab coming up. Fresh blood following the sting of an unhappy, unhealed wound.

He wishes he were, wishes he could know everything about her, and she him, instantly. Wishes thoughts and extensions and meaning could just be there immediately and obvious. 

But it isn't, they aren’t. Steve just has to deal with knowing there are things that will always be secret, meaning he may never even be aware he missed.

“You liked her and I didn't,” Robin says carefully, the first stuttering chugs of a train starting forward. It has to start before it can barrel on. “That’s how it started.”

Steve is still sitting, legs spread, and Robin’s hands are flicking back and forth, swaying in a miserable vogue as thoughts arrange themselves in her mind, she steps forward.  Stepping and putting herself in that open space, ending the argument they still weren't really having through her proximity.

“Then we both hated her and that was good,” Robin continues. “What if now that I like her, you still don’t?

“If you never meet again it’s never a problem,” she continues. “I won’t have to end things. Cause that’s what I’ll do, Steve, there isn’t a choice between you and someone else. It’s always gonna be you. You’re my person.”

“It’s always gonna be you too, Rob.” He settles his hands on her waist in an almost hug, contact so he can keep looking her in the face when he asks. “But why are all you nerds so black and white?”

She scoffs, a total not-answer he knows means she doesn’t know what to say because he’s right.

“I didn’t hate Care, I still don’t. I was mad at her and Tommy. Mostly Tommy. But it wasn’t like she was dead to me. We talked in class and at games. She moved here for school, we were busy with fighting evil. We lost touch.”

“You don’t hate her?”

“I hate like three people and two of them are dead already. Everyone else is just annoying.”

“So you’ll change?”

She asks it gently, like it should be accompanied by an upset child’s sniffle. He almost feels bad about the way he knows he’s going to answer. Turning the hold on her waist into an actual hug, Steve rests his chin on the soft muscle of her stomach, looking up into her chin, and says, “No. We’re already late.”

He’s laughing too hard to keep his feet under him as Robin pulls him out of the chair. When he stumbles up to standing, she squeezes his hand, hard, a punishment for being mean to her.

“I hate you. I hate you. I hate you,” she chants.

She’s still muttering it down their apartment hall, in the car, and up to the restaurant where her mildly pissy face melts into something soft and gooey.

Carol is already waiting looking polished and pressed as she always has. The mid-length skirt and the chin length hair suit her. If the fashion is any indication, the 90’s seem like they’ll be kinder than the last few years have been.

Steve drops Robin’s hand as Carol walks up, gives them the space to greet one another. A warm hug: hands drifting. A kiss to the cheek: lip gloss sticky and possessive. Kind doesn’t mean they don’t still need to be careful, their greeting never slips beyond what could be friends meeting up. 

And when they let go Carrie’s eyes, still soft, take on that sly pinch at the corner. She hugs him too: one arm, from the side, hands firmly in the zone of public decency. “This twin thing is cute.”

Robin groans so they can both hear all the ways that Steve has victimized her.

“I mean it, Birdie, “ she says. And Steve can hear the way age has sanded down some of her sharper edges. “Makes me hungry.”

Robin flushes, a deep red Steve can feel the heat of in his own face. “Really?

Some of her edges, not all. The look in her eyes revealing that sharp gleam he knows meant, at one point, that she and Tommy were going to disappear into a spare bedroom and leave him to fend for himself.

“I had meant literally.” If they disappear to fuck in the bathroom he’s leaving them with the bill.

But Carol shakes her head and puts the obviously dirty thoughts behind her. “I haven’t seen you two look this cute since the summer we graduated.”

Wait. 

“You didn’t ever come into Scoops.” Steve accuses. 

Carol’s complexion betrays her. “No, but Orange Julius was right across the food court.”

Robin is looking back and forth between them. And she was worried they wouldn’t get along. He’s about to give Rob the food to get Care riled up for weeks.

“You spend a lot of time in the food court that summer?”

“Freshman fifteen doesn’t count if it happens before the school year starts.”

“And the seats across from Scoops were the best in the room?”

“It had the best view, and I can remember more than a few freaks and geeks who would say the exact same thing.”

“Wait,” Robin says, “you were looking at…”

“Blue looks good on you,” Carol sways into Robin’s space, a leer on her face that suggests that Steve will have the apartment to himself tonight. Carol’s eyes cut up to him, a reminder that she hasn’t forgotten him or the purpose of tonight, “It looks alright on you, Stevie.”

“Yeah, big surprise who you think wore it better. You’ve always been easy.”

“We have that in common, looks like you match with both of us.”

[thaleleah]

𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂 𝓛𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓶

Pairing: Billy The Kid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Dark-ish!Billy (just the tiniest bit tho), Virgin!Reader, Dub-Con, P in V, Hate Fucking (kinda but not really lol i tried), Fingering, Creampie, Possessive Behavior, Mentions of a gun shot graze, Talk of tying up/restraining/bondage, Slight Dirty Talk, Rough Touches (he grabs her face & throat), Use of the word “drawers” instead of panties cause I'm cringey like that lol

Word Count: 3.5K

A/N: Dedicated to my anon who sent in this ask and put the thought of hate fucking in my head. I tried, hun lol. Didn't turn out how I thought it would and it's not my best work, but it did help me get out of my writing slump a bit sooooo i hope you enjoy it.

A/N 2: Please accept this supposed to be drabble that turned into basically a fic length thing as compensation for not having Godless Part 2 out yet. Hoping to finish it up within the next couple of weeks 🤞🏻

Summary: Jesse's younger sister is a pretty problem for Billy.

He’s so pissed at you. 

Jesse’s little sister once again trying to prove herself useful, trying to prove that she’s ‘one of the boys’, but doing nothing except getting in the way and causing trouble. 

It was supposed to be a quick job. They’ve rustled cattle together enough to have their system down pat, everyone in their gang playing their part perfectly so that they can be in and out of their target’s territory in the shortest amount of time. Very rarely do they get caught in the act now - and if they do, they’re good enough to never suffer losses. 

But when there’s a sweet-voiced, overly driven Miss suddenly among their operation when there’s not supposed to be, things can go wrong. 

You must have followed them, just far enough behind that they didn’t see you during their final look around before starting their run. One minute, everything was fine. None of the ranch owner’s cowboys were in sight and the cattle were proving to be easy to corral, not a single one of them choosing to go rogue and trying to push out of the herd. 

And then the next minute, you were there. You were wearing a dress when they left, a pretty little thing that Billy thought made the color of your eyes pop. It’s not your normal outfit, but you own it now courtesy of Jesse who was tired of hearing you nag about how much you wanted to come with them, how ‘helpful’ you could be if he just gave you a chance, and told you that if you wanted to be helpful you would run down to the local liquor store and make sure he had something to drink when they got back. 

You had switched out of the dress and back into your shirt and overalls, the shoes on your feet traded for riding boots instead of those dainty lace up ones. The hat that sat on your head covered your hair and the first thing that Billy notices when you ride up next to him is how tightly your hands are gripping the reins. 

The sight of you there catches him off guard and his gallop turns into a canter as he stares at you with wide eyes.

“Hey!” Jesse shouts from a little farther out. “What the hell do you think you’re doin’ here?”

“I deserve to be here just as much as any of you,” You reply, head held high as you glare back at your brother. 

“Hell no! Get your ass ou–” 

The bullet whizzes past his head, cutting through the air with a near deadly precision. Everyone ducks, heads snapping to where the bullet came from as the sound of the gunshot rings in their ears. There’s a couple of the ranch owner’s cowboys standing at the top of the hill, firing shot after shot towards the gang and the compromised cattle. Another bullet just barely avoids digging itself into Billy’s arm, the hot lead grazing against his upper arm and tearing through his shirt. Your eyes are wide when Billy shouts in pain, your own yell echoing his as he instinctively clutches his arm. 

He can see in your face that you’re terrified. You don’t know what to do. You’re going to get hurt if he doesn’t do something. 

Without thinking, Billy jerks his horse towards yours, forcefully nudging your own horse in the direction of the nearby treeline while he pulls out his gun with his uninjured arm to help return fire. The gang scatters, most of the cattle is already out past the property line and able to be herded during the commotion. The gunshots continue but no one else gets hit, and the group hollers the entire way back to the house, adrenaline pumping from just the taste of a bit of dangerous contact. 

You stay silent the entire ride back home. So does Billy. And so does Jesse.

But the second your feet are back on the ground, you’re in trouble. 

Jesse lays into you.

“What the hell did you think you were doin’?”

“I just wanted to help!”

“Yeah? Some help you were. You distracted us! You could have gotten us all killed,”

“Them shootin’ at you had nothin’ to do with me! I deserved to be there!”

Billy sits on the top post of the paddock fence as he presses a clean cloth against the graze on his arm, watching you both as you tear at each other's throats. He’s glaring at you too, bright blue eyes piercing into the side of your face as you scream at your brother. He watches as the tears fall from your pretty eyes, twin streams cascading down your cheeks as your hands fly around you in frustration. 

A Pretty Problem. That’s what you are. 

You’re a problem when you’re shooting. Your aim is always off, missing targets by an inch and somehow never able to fix yourself enough to hit them the next time. It’s a problem how you ask him for help, your back pressing against his chest and he guides you to adjust your position. Those are the only times your bullets hit the standing cans. When he steps back and you try again, you’re back to missing, and Billy just refrains from rolling his eyes even as his body feels like it’s been touched with a live wire just from the smallest bit of contact with you.  

You’re a problem when they’re drinking, a bottle in your hand as you try your best to match their intake. The others would leave you on the floor, stepping over you when you inevitably drop from too much alcohol. It’s Billy that picks you up, wrapping his arm around your waist and carrying you to your bed. 

You’re a problem when you’re laying there, sprawled out along the sheets somewhere between sleep and forcing yourself to stay awake. The way you look up at him is a problem, eyes glassy and half-lidded as you mumble a soft ‘thanks, Billy,”. He knows he’s not a good person, no matter how hard he tries convince himself he is, but fuck - he deserves some extra points for the self restraint he has to leave you there like that. 

You’re a problem when you’re being a brat. The constant butting into conversations, volunteering for jobs and then throwing fits when you’re turned down. You’ve taken to pleading with him for support, asking him to speak on your behalf just to make your brother and the other men see sense. 

“You’re the youngest,” You say, and your eyes are wide and nearly watering as you beg. “That’s why they call you The Kid. Doesn’t that bother you? Imagine how I feel!”

And how can you even ask him to do that? You can’t even shoot right on your own. Ain’t no way he’s speaking up for you so you can go on dangerous jobs and get killed. 

No. 

You fight just as harshly as Jesse does, spewing out insults and arguing your points until you’re both blue in the face. Neither of you notice when Billy jumps off the fence and heads into the house. You make him so angry - so naive and so willing to put yourself in danger just to try to prove yourself. Jesse is right. You could have gotten them all killed today with your little stunt. If you hadn’t been there, then their attention wouldn’t have been divided. Maybe he or Jesse could have seen the cowboys up on the hill a few seconds earlier and gotten out of there without even so much as a graze. In this world, every second is important and being distracted for even a moment can cost you your life. 

He’s still stewing when you follow him into the house only a few minutes later. Your eyes are rimmed red, lips puffy from where you’ve clearly been biting them. Bad girl, he thinks as he glares at them. It’s a nervous habit you have and he’s constantly telling you to stop. The sight of your teeth biting into your bottom lip always makes him go crazy. It should be his teeth digging into it instead. 

“What?” He mumbles gruffly.

“Are you okay?”

“Got grazed by a bullet,” He says, his eyes never leaving yours even as he hooks a thumb under one of his suspenders and pulls it off his shoulder. “You think I’m okay?”

He watches you as you watch him pull the other one off too, your eyes following the fallen straps as they hang around his waist. They follow his hands back up as he undoes the buttons on his shirt, one after the other after the other until the thin material separates in the middle and he can push it off his shoulders. 

His skin feels hot under your intense gaze, and the darker more primal part of his brain wishes you would follow his lead. Undo your own suspenders, unbutton your shirt but make it slow - tease him a little bit cause that’s what you are.

A tease and a brat. And he should treat you like one. 

Instead, you’re stepping up to him and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Your fingers trace just below the thankfully shallow wound of the graze. “You should let me wrap this for you. So it doesn’t get infected,”

“You shouldn’t have been there,” He says in return, and his anger flares as he watches you roll your eyes. 

“God, Billy. Come on. Didn’t I get enough of this from Jesse?”

“You could have- hey!” Billy’s hand snaps out to grip your jaw, stopping you in your tracks as you turn to walk away from him. He holds you still, forcing your face to stay turned towards him as he growls. “You could have been killed today with your little stunt. You had no place there,”

Your hands clamp around his wrist trying to pry his hand off of your face and your words are determined despite the small flicker of fear present in your eyes. “I deserve to be there just as much as any of you,” 

“Oh yeah? Is that why I had to save you today?”

“You nudged me in a direction I was already goin’ to pull my horse in. I wouldn’t call that savin’,”

He pushes forward, making you shuffle back even as his hand stays firm around your chin. Your back hits the opposite wall, a pretty gasp falling from your lips from the rough movement.

“Brat,” Billy hisses as he presses his body against yours, pinning you to the wall. “You’re a troublemaker. I should tie you to your bed, keep you there - bound and out of harm’s way.”

Your breathing hitches at his words and he can feel the way your fingers clamp tighter around his wrist, those big wide eyes that torment him in his dreams staring up at him. 

“Billy,” You whisper, but he just continues his thought. 

“I’ll take care of you,” He says, voice low and quiet between the two of you but it somehow sounds deafening in the silence of the house. “Keep you fed and safe. Give you a nice blanket to keep you comfortable while you wait for me to get home.”

Billy’s hand releases your chin, calloused palms sliding down your jaw and wrapping around your throat. He can feel how you swallow thickly under his hold. 

“And you can take care of me in return,” He continues, his words almost a growl in your face as his warm breath fans across your skin. “As a reward for keeping you out of trouble.”

Even with only centimeters apart, he can barely hear you as you whisper. “Reward you how?”

And fuck, if you knew all the dirty things that play in his mind at night…

“On your knees,” He says, the hand not currently wrapped around your throat reaches up to flick off the suspender strap around your shoulder. It falls around your waist much like his did just minutes before. “On your back.” The other suspender falls like its twin. 

The sound of your heavy breathing echoes in his ears. His eyes drop to your parted lips and he’s sure that his pupils are just as large as yours are. His breathing stops in anticipation despite the fact that it's him who leans in, closing the distance between the two of you as he presses his lips against yours for the first time. 

He wants to be embarrassed by the sound he makes when he tastes you, so soft and sweet and somehow so much better than he ever imagined. Your breathing shudders when his tongue brushes against your bottom lip, but it cuts off in a soft gasp when he presses in again to kiss you harder. Need curls tightly in his gut, anger burning through his veins at you for making him feel this way. 

So on edge all the time, so unhinged. So desperate. 

The hand around your throat tightens a bit and the little squeak you let out in response has him swelling in his trousers.

“Troublemakers like you need to be put in their place,” He says, voice raw and gravely with lust. “You wanna be a big girl and ride horses all day on dangerous trips?” His nose bumps against yours, lips just barely brushing against your own as he speaks. “You can ride me instead.”

His hand leaves your throat to pull at the button on your overalls, and your own hands grip onto the tight muscles of his biceps. 

“Billy, wait,” You say, hand moving down to cover his as he pops open the buttons, but he grabs your chin in his hold again. 

Wait? Wait? You want him to fucking wait? No, you’ve already made him wait long enough. 

“Shut up!” He growls. “I’ve heard enough from you.”

His other hand manages to push down your overalls and they fall to the ground, pooling around your ankles. You whimper as his hand slides across your belly, his long fingers tracing over your soft skin as they travel down and down until they slip under the thin material of your drawers. 

“Good girls do what they’re told,” He whispers, breathing hot and heavy as he presses his mouth against your cheek, and you can feel the stubble that’s started to grow back already on his jaw scratch at your face. “I’ll have to teach you better.”

You gasp when his fingers first touch you, the gentle caress of his fingertips on your clit that has you jumping against the wall but unable to go anywhere with how he has you pinned. He groans against your cheek when he feels how wet you are already, soaking into the pads of his fingers as he circles the bundle of nerves between your thighs. 

“Billy,” You moan, and he kisses you harshly, cutting off the rest of your sentence if there even was more because he can’t bear the thought of you trying to get him to stop again.

No waiting. No stopping. You’re his. 

“Just be a good girl for me, okay?”

His fingers slide through your wetness, trailing slowly over your slit as his arm pushes deeper into your drawers. The tip of his finger nudges at your entrance, rubbing and teasing against your dripping hole for a moment before pushing inside you, and fuck - you feel so tight around him already. Your pussy clenches around his finger as he moves it inside of you, sweet cries ripping from your throat when he adds another, stretching you more as he curls his fingers against your slick walls. 

He muffles your moans with his lips, and he can’t help but push his hips against you, pressing the thick bulge in his pants against your thigh for some relief. 

Damn you, he thinks. Damn you and your driven attitude, bad shooting, sweet demeanor, and pretty face. Jesse could kill him for this. Jesse would, and he would deserve it. But this is your fault. Your. Fault. You tempted him like this. Threw him off his game and destroyed his self control just by being you and he hates you for it. 

Your moans are a constant now, turning into desperate whines of “Billy, please! Oh, god, please!” as he watches you greedily hump his hand. He’s throbbing in his pants, cock pulsing with need and heavy as he presses harder against your thigh. He’s not going to last long - not with the way you look right now and the way he knows you're going to feel wrapped around his cock just from how you feel clamping around his fingers right now. 

You’re not going to last much longer either, and his fingers thrust inside you faster, thumb rolling over your clit as he pushes you closer and closer towards that edge.

Come on, pretty girl. Be good for me.

He’s never touched you this way before, but it’s like he knows your body inside and out already. The look on your face tells him you’re about to cum, and he wants to see it - wants to see it so badly to see if it matches the same look you have when he makes you cum in his dreams - but he wants to make you suffer. Just a little bit more. Like you make him suffer. 

The cry of protest you make when he pulls his hand away is beautiful, as is the way your eyes widen when he brings the soaked digits to his mouth, sucking your taste from them and fuuuuckkk you taste so good. Of course, you taste this good. 

He kisses you again, sliding his tongue inside your mouth against yours just to make you taste yourself too as he undoes the buttons on his own pants. The restricting material is gone in seconds along with both of your underwear. His hand grips your hip, squeezing the flesh between his fingers before dragging his hand along the curve of your ass and down the back of your thigh.

In one swift movement, he has your leg hooked around his hip and his cock positioned at your entrance. 

“Wait,” You whimper, looking up at him with those beautiful big eyes of yours. “I’ve never–”

“I’ll take care of you,” He says, slowly pushing himself forward. The clench of your pussy as he works his cock inside you feels like heaven, slick walls squeezing him tight as he fills you up. 

Your arms wrap tightly around his neck as he sinks in, face digging into his neck to muffle your soft cry. A pang of guilt shoots through him at your pain. He doesn’t want you hurt. You’re a brat and a troublemaker, but he’s only ever wanted to keep you safe. But the more primal part of his brain keens at the idea. 

It’s your first time. He’s your first. You’re his. Only his.

His good girl.

His pretty problem.

He wants to fuck you hard, wants his hips snapping against yours so hard they leave bruises. Wants you crying against his mouth, moans and whimpers so uncontrollable that your brother and the rest of the gang hears them from outside from how loud you’re being. He’s not going to last long, he was right about that. His hips move slowly against yours, cock dragging against your walls as he pulls out until just the tip is left buried in your cunt. 

Your small whines of pain quickly turn into pleasure as he rocks into you, your warmth hugging his cock so tightly he thinks you might be trying to keep him buried inside you forever. He fucks you faster, pressing you harder against the wall as he claims your lips again. His fingers find the sensitive nub between your legs, rough fingertips circling your clit relentlessly until your panting against his mouth. He greedily swallows your squeal when you cum around him, cunt forming a tight and unforgiving blissful prison around his cock as you drench him and his fingers. 

He moans with you, hips stuttering and inconsistent as your orgasm triggers his. He holds your face against his, his other hand clutching your hip as he holds you still, not letting you run away from him even if you try as he spills himself inside you, painting your walls white.

It’s quiet in the room as you both come down from your high, just the sounds of panting as you both try to catch your breath. He should pull out. Anyone could just walk in at any moment and catch you, but he grits his teeth at the thought of having to move away from you. He’d die happily inside you if he could. So, he takes another moment, letting himself revel in the feel of your still pulsing walls around his length as he lays his forehead against yours.

“You’re goin’ to keep being my good girl, right?” He says softly into the space between you. “Stay out of trouble?”

And despite the exhausted look on your face, when your eyes meet his, all he sees is that strong-willed defiance.

A pretty problem indeed.

[its-quiet-colter]

Warm Hotel Rooms.

Agent Whiskey x Agent Pisco - Male! Reader

Word count: 3123

Warnings: 18+ NSFW, smut, implied switch!whiskey but he's a bottom here. friends w benefits, anal sex, blowjob, whiskey being a harmless flirt. also implied bisexual!whiskey but nothing is mentioned for the reader.

Notes: this took me WEEKS to finish, omg i low-key hate how it turned out but here we are. i'm hoping this is one of a five part whiskey and pisco series.

| Part One | Part Two |

| archive of our own |

The door of the hotel barges open, hitting the back wall with the force of your combined weight as Whiskey pushes you through the doorway. Your lips are locked together, and you feel the addictive rumble of the other agent groaning into the kiss as he nips at your bottom lip like a man starved. Both of you nearly trip over each other as you toe off the bespoke leather shoes you wore for the mission, courtesy of the Kingsman, and stumble your way to the couch.

Whiskey goes down willingly when you lightly push on his chest, hitting the cushion with a thump. His cowboy hat sits askew on his head and he pants with ragged breath. The rise and fall is soothing underneath your palm, his heartbeat heavy, as you feel the heat through his shirt. A sly grin sits on Whiskey’s face, his eyes flashing with excitement and anticipation– arousal. 

You’re not so different; with messy hair from where his fingers slid through it, and your top lip red from the brush of his mustache against your own stubble. You can see the visible tent in Whiskey’s slacks as he looks up at you expectantly and you hook your fingers under the loop of his tie and tug it loose. His breath hitches as you straddle him, your leg sliding between his own and he reaches out to grip the lapels of your suit.

“You’re killin’ me here, Pisco.” Whiskey chuckles breathlessly, but you notice the way his hips buck, searching for friction against your thigh. “And I ain’t a man that begs, sugar.”

“Alright, alright.” You grumble half heartedly, too worked up to argue. Pushing off his chest, you sit back enough to take off your tailored blazer and unclasp the holster strapped around your chest, discarding both in the dark hotel room. The clank of the weapon is a little jarring as it hits the coffee table and disturbs the heavy air around you two. “So damn impatient, whining like a proper pillow princess.”

The joke earns you a playful spank over your ass as Whiskey tugs you closer, the feel of his palms squeezing your cheeks, even through the fabric of your slacks is nothing if not addictive. But then again, so is the agent under you. 

Whiskey brings your lips together again, feeling the way his tongue slides against yours as you grind against each other on the couch. The previous playfulness, whilst always present– it always is with a man as cocky and self-assured as Whiskey– is forgotten in the dimly lit hotel room. Instead all that remains is the soft, heated feeling that hangs around you both, the hum of arousal that settles in your gut, and the quiet little grunts and moans that are swallowed by each other.

Your clothes rustle against one another as you roll your hips against Whiskey’s, grinding your erections against one another as you kiss. His hand wraps around your tie, the other sliding through your hair as he cups the back of your head, ensuring you stay close. Barely giving you enough space to breathe. Whiskey has always been a man that takes as much as he gives.

“Fucking hell,” You pant against his lips, your tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip. Both of you have been geared for most of the night, ready to pounce on each other the second you arrived back at the rendezvous point at the hotel. “You sure know how to rile a man up, Whiskey.”

“Yeah?” He chuckles, low and rumbly with that signature grin of his. “You enjoyed that little stunt I pulled with the scientist?”

With a shake of your head, you look down at Whiskey, all disheveled and flushed underneath you. A lighthearted laugh leaving you. “In a room full of biochemists bidding for pharmaceutical companies to fund their experimental drugs, you somehow still managed to find a way to flirt with the prettiest woman in the room.”

“So you admit she was pretty?” The other agent chuckles, his grin wide. It’s a playful game between the two of you. It’s addictive. Always walking a fine line between how far Whiskey can push– flirting with targets, informants, marks and the like whilst out on the field. How long can he spend riling you up? How long before the two of you wind up in bed together after missions? Or any surface for that matter. Finding fleeting moments between debriefs and stakeouts to expend all that pent up energy. That’s how it’s always been for you two. Something neither of you are willing to address or admit to enjoying far more than partners should.

You roll your eyes at Whiskey’s banter, your hands sliding down to find his belt and pull it from the loops. He moans softly, hips lifting up so you can work his slacks down. Making him shuffle awkwardly in that rare display of the real man underneath the suave Agent Whiskey. The one who likes too many teaspoons of sugar in his coffee, the one who couldn’t loop his tie properly until you taught him in the bathroom outside Champ’s office after your first mission together. The man who bites his top lip, his brow always furrowed slightly whenever he tries to work out of his slacks, just so you two can fuck over whatever surface is avaliable out in the field. The man you know and trust as your best friend, Jack Daniels.

Whatever fancy one-liner Whiskey had ready dies on his tongue as he shuffles down his pants and boxers enough for his cock to spring free and rest up against his abdomen. He hisses slightly as the end of his shirt brushes against the sensitive underside, and you push the offending fabric up enough to kiss your way down his chest. Starting from the middle of his sternum, his skin warm and soft, you leave a trail of kisses down his chest and to his navel. The end of your nose and the scrape of your stubble has him shuddering under you, heat settling in his gut.

Whiskey sucks in a breath, his palm coming to cup the back of your head. “Pisco–” He all but whines your name as you lick a strip up the underside of his cock, your hands holding his waist to keep him still. You feel him twitch against you, his resolve slipping as he tries to rock his hips up and get more of you. Blunt nails scrape the back of your neck, sliding up into your hair and messing it up further in a desperate attempt to keep you close. “Please, sugar.”

You lean up enough to take him into your mouth, tonguing at the slit as you lap at the tip of his cock. Whiskey’s head falls back against the arm of the couch with a hearty moan, his eyes falling shut in bliss as you take all of him down. You can feel the heat of him on your tongue, the taste of his precum, the heady smell of his scent. A potent mix of whiskey, worn leather, and something else which can only be described as Jack himself.

He all but moans as he feels the swipe of your tongue on the underside of his cock, and his fingers tighten in your hair. He can’t help it now, his hips jutting up in little thrusts as you suck hard and hollow out your cheeks. Your own appearance is flushed, hair stuck out in multiple directions and spit trickling down your chin. Not that you mind. Being a mess for Whiskey is as intoxicating and addictive as it is to turn him into one.

———————

The two of you had been wound up all night, the feel of arousal simmering under the surface of your skin as you watched him flirt with pretty scientists and handsome businessmen alike. Whiskey loved the attention, always jumped straight to playful flirting with targets, knowing it riled you up and put him in the centre of attention. It felt good. And Whiskey loved the tease.

Your eyes followed him the whole night at the convention, watching as Whiskey weaved through the crowds, polished and suave with his bespoke suit and his Statesmen glasses on. He was handsome. Whiskey knew it and so did you, neither of you bothered hiding it. The physical attraction to one another–the unspoken arrangement between the two of you. It somehow strengthened your partnership, your trust with the other agent. Each physical touch, a statement to your bond. Your friendship; solid and unbreakable both in and out of the missions.

You watched as Whiskey flirted with her, the scientist. Soft blonde hair, bleached a few shades brighter than her natural tone and dark brown eyes. She tied it back messily, a last minute decision to keep the wispy ends out of her eyes. Pretty, Whiskey had called her. She’s a good ten years younger than the both of you, but her white lab coat, long and unbuttoned– her achievements embroidered into the breast pocket– a signature of her achievement, shows her worth amongst a room full of male colleagues.

Her laugh is full and bright, smiling with her teeth at whatever flirty joke Whiskey made. And you watch as she shuffles on her heels, leaning towards him. The slight flush on her cheeks, the way she runs her fingers along the rim of her medical brochures, ready to hand out to pharmaceutical companies ready to potentially fund her research. Her touch, so subtle only you would catch it. Because you’re looking at him, and he’s looking at her. The slight curve to her jaw, the dimple on her cheek, the pink gloss of her manicured nails.

Whiskey knows you’re watching. It’s a part of the game. He knows you see the way he touches her elbow, his fingers soft on her skin. He knows you see the way he leads her through the expo, like he was meant to be there. You watch as he passes right by you, his eyes meeting yours. The slight curve of his lip and moustache as he grins, giving you a wink before he diverts his attention back to the scientist as pretends to indulge in her conversation about biochemics. That’s when he knows he’s won, done his job in wedging himself under your skin so Whiskey is the only thing you’re thinking about on this mission like every other one you’ve done together. He knows he’ll have it good tonight, laid out underneath his agent Pisco. 

Distracting yourself, you turn and focus on the three men in front of you. Three men in their sixties talking about some research project they all worked on decades ago. A dry, monotonous conversation that drags on like boots on carpet. All the while you pretend like it interests you, laugh and smile with your own charm and lull the men into a false sense of security. It's enough to settle the heat in your belly, enough to stem the simmer of arousal that built up when you had half a mind to drag Whiskey out the back and fuck him against the door of the cubicle. Instead, you watch and listen as you drift in and out of your thoughts. Distracted. 

“Pisco, Whiskey has made it to the data room. Standby. If security is alerted you two might need to get out of there fast.” Ginger’s words are like a bucket of ice, sharp and startling as she speaks through the comms. Her voice in your earpiece, always comforting on missions, brings you back to reality and into the environment. Whiskey is notably missing, presumably out the back hacking the data servers holding all the scientists research and project proposals whilst you’re out here keeping an eye on the exits and making contact with the targets.

Whiskey’s charm, for all that it does to you, makes him one of the best agents Statesmen has. He’s just cheesy enough to fly under the radar. He lays the flirting on thick, playing dumb half the time like he’s drawn to every attractive person he meets, unable to stop himself. Makes himself the loudest one in the room so as to be seen as the innocuous one in the room. Harmless and inoffensive. No one stops to think the himbo cowboy– the one preoccupied with every woman in the room is there to steal highly sensitive intelligence.

It’s something you’ve come to love about the other agent, only because you know the real man underneath is far from it. Jack cares when he wants to, and when he does it’s not done lightly. For those he considers family, Jack will protect them with his life. You’ve seen how he’s run head first into danger, following after you and giving you cover and back up. You’ve seen him half heartedly try to patch you up after you’ve done the same. He remembers the coffee order you like, he always gets you something on your birthday, always lets you fly in the front seat of the Silver Pony.

Jack is your dearest friend. Agent Whiskey is your partner. Neither of you dare to break what trust you two share.

“Excuse me gentlemen, I need a word with my associate.” Whiskey’s voice breaks the conversation, the men watching as he takes your arm and pulls you away towards the entrance.

“You got it?” You ask, watching as he takes out a disk holding the intel you both need. 

“It’s all in here, darlin’.” He says, his hand still holding your arm. Leading you much like he led her. Only this time he’s more hurried, anxious to get out of the expo. It's only a matter of time before security figures out they’ve been hacked.

It’s only about an hour’s drive to make it to the other side of the city, where the rendezvous point is set. Room 802 in some bougie downtown Hotel in Seattle where Statesmen have gadgets stored in the walls and behind the closet doors, a bottle of their finest liquid gold on the nightstand and the perimeter secured. 

Whiskey could barely keep his hands off you in the car as you drove. His palm, rough and calloused as he untucked your shirt, touched the skin above your hip, palming over your erection. Red lights and speed cameras be damned, both of you were ready to be out of the car. The other agent barely able to contain himself once you checked in, his hands scrunched in your lapels as he pushed you through the door of Room 802. Pressed against your front, the two of you kissing with moans shared between you.

———————

“Ngh, fuck. Give it to me, sugar.” Whiskey all but purrs, his amused grin faltering as he feels the stretch of your cock bottoming out. He clenches around you, hands clawing at your back as you hold his leg up to his chest. 

Neither of you move from your place on the couch, muscles tight and tense as Whiskey pants underneath you. Giving him the time his body needs to accommodate you. His skin is slightly coated in sweat, already wound up and ready to come since you spent a good twenty minutes holding him on the brink of an orgasm whilst you lapped at his cock and worked him up to three fingers.

“There you go,” You can’t help but praise, almost cooing as you feel him relax. Whiskey shuffles on the couch slightly, giving you more room to plant your knees and pull back, beginning to thrust into him properly. 

The first brush of your cock against his prostate has him crying out, arched beautifully under you. His cock, untouched and leaking against his stomach twitches with precum beading out of the tip. “Ah..” He whimpers, hands planted on your back as he draws you closer.

“Whiskey,” You moan his name, your hand cradling under his knee as you hold him open, watching the way your cock slides into him with each moan you drag out. His lips, soft and red from where he bit them, are held open as he’s lost in pleasure. Each little noise falling off his tongue as he looks up at you with doe-like eyes.

He begs for it harder, deeper but no less intense. And who are you to deny your partner anything?

Whiskey groans, one hand settling on the couch to steady himself as he fists the pillow, the fabric stretching under strain from his palm. His brow furrows as his prostate is hit again, eyes fluttering shut. He’s so pretty like this, you think. You hold the angle, thrusts steady and deep as you ram that one spot inside of him, your own chest panting with the exertion.

He clenches around you again, the warm feel of him around you causing heat to pool in your stomach. But you hold on, determined to see him come first. Whiskey isn’t far away, his thighs starting to shake under your hands as he takes all that you give him. His toes curl and he cries out, head thrown back slightly.

“Pisco– please sugar.” Whiskey begs, gasping with each thrust of your cock inside him. He wraps his arms around your neck, pulling you down on top of him. He likes to come like this, sweaty and flush against you, panting in your ear as he scrambles to hold onto your back. “C-cumming–”

You groan as you feel him spill between your stomachs, warm come adding to the heat that surrounds you both. Whiskey’s moan in your ear is like heaven, his southern accent thicker when he’s riding out his orgasm. Breath hot and panting against the shell of your ear, his hair sweaty and stuck to yours.

It’s only a few more thrusts before your own orgasm crashes into you, pulling out a deep groan as you pull out and add to the mess on his stomach. You pump your cock, once, twice and three times, spilling over Whiskey as he moans underneath you. Still shaking in his residual pleasure.  

You had half a mind to lick him clean and wring another orgasm out of him, but both of you are spent. Reaching over to the coffee table, you pick up the tissue box and wipe the two of you clean whilst Whiskey comes down and regains his breath.

“You know… this place has a pool, Pisco. It’d be a shame to waste Statesmen money…” Whiskey says, his eyebrow raising expectantly with a knowing look.

A soft laugh escapes you, light and satisfied after your orgasm. “We should shower first.” you say with a kiss to his shoulder.

“Alright, sugar.”

[angel-of-the-moons]

Peaches and Cream

Pre-War!Cooper Howard x Curvy!Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Smut, NSFW, Oral (f! Receiving), reader's got some thick thighs and little bit of hair down there, overuse of pet names. (You can't tell me this man wouldn't call you a pet name at every available opportunity)

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Remember that line in MK 11 where Kano goes "Aren't you a peach? I could eat a peach for hours."? I just got some body wash that smells exactly like those peach ring candies and this happened upon me like a bolt of Zeus hit me whilst in the shower today

Divider by @/saradika-graphics

Being on the rebound after the messy divorce with Barb wasn't on Cooper's priority lists. Dating one of the animal trainers from one of his movies sets was certainly never an avenue he thought he'd pursue.

But when his horse got loose on set and she ignored him in favor of you? Oh, you got his attention all right... One thing led to another, and boy did the tabloids have a field day when pictures of the two of you kissing made it into circulation.

You were used to tabloids and reporters, working on movie sets. And now, dating America's favorite heart-throb cowboy? Oh, you bet your ass if you weren't used to it before you sure were, now.

You had fallen into a comfortable routine, often staying over at his place. To say Barb was prickly about how quickly he seemed to move on was... nice. She did however like how good you were with Janey, so that eased her annoyance with you some. So, she got used to seeing you around when Cooper would pick Janey up or when she dropped her off.

Today was one of those days, Cooper had run out to see his agent about something when Barb showed up to take Janey back again. You said stiff goodbyes and gave Janey a big hug, and once they were off, hopped in for a quick shower.

Your skin was still damp and your hair was still wrapped up in a towel when he got back, looking tired and annoyed.

Cooper kicked his shoes off by the front door, Roosevelt letting our short barks of excitement as his owner patted his head, before scampering back off to lay in his bed and gnaw his beef bone in content.

You just finished pouring a glass of sweet tea when Cooper's calloused hands circled your waist from behind, briefly giving your soft belly a squeeze before his fingers bunched in your dress as he kissed your neck. "Missed ya." He murmured.

"You were gone maybe, twenty minutes." You giggled, reaching up to brush his cheek with your hand as you slipped your drink, the ice cubes clinking loudly on the glass.

"Long enough. Didn't even get to kiss my baby goodbye when she got strapped into her Mama's car." He snorted, pressing his nose against your skin, breathing in the scent of the soaps you'd used.

"Damn, you smell good. Like a fuckin' peach."

"Oh?" You smirked as his hands began to roam, reaching down the front of your dress to grip the fat of your thighs in his palms, kneading softly. You bit your lip when he hummed an affirmation, his teeth grazing your skin on your shoulder.

"Mhhm... Good 'nuff to fuckin' eat." He drawled, his tone as thick and sweet as molasses; the timbre of his voice crawling through your pores.

"If you're hungry I can make dinner." You reply breathlessly, trying to interject your sense of humor.

"Nah, darlin'." Cooper growled, yaking you by the dress so you were flush tight against him; able to feel the growing outline of his cock as it filled out the crotch of his pants, "Not the kinda snack I want."

His breath hot on your ear, goosebumps on your skin; you barely had enough time to set your glass of tea down on the counter before he began tugging you to his bedroom; the towel on your head being unraveled and forgotten in the hall along the way.

The moment his door was kicked shut he turned you around and his mouth found yours like a homing missile--all teeth and tongue; dancing, twining, tugging and messy--knocking the air from your lungs as his hands blindly unbuttoned the top of your dress, groaning when the soft expanse of your bare breasts greeted his hands.

"No bra, darlin'?" Cooper rasped, pulling back from your mouth to grin.

"'s more comfortable." You barely mutter out before his lips are on you again, kissing you backwards until your knees hit the edge of the bed, knocking you back while he stayed standing.

His eyes lit up with a mischievous twinkle as he gave you that signature smirk of his coupled with the quirk of his brow. "Oh, you won't catch me complainin' babydoll... Not at all."

You huff and reach down, undoing the clasp to his belt, hastily trying to slide it free of the loops of his pants, but his hand stops you and you pout up at him impatiently.

"Easy now, baby." He said in a low and heavy tone, his accent emphasizing "baby" and making a shiver creep down to your toes.

He lifted his other hand to tug the buttons on his shirt free, plucking each one until his button-up was open more, revealing the white undershirt beneath.

"Now..." He growled softly as he began to sink to his knees, "Told ya I wanted a snack, darlin'... Now I'm gonna get one. Just lay back and relax."

Your heart sputtered a beat as Cooper pulled your thighs apart and just tugged your panties to the side; not even bothering to remove them before giving your damp folds an open-mouthed kiss, running his tongue along the length of your slit and drawing a shaky moan from you.

His hand trailed softly over your skin, brushing over the short mess of curls before using his thumb to pull the hood of your clit back; giving the sensitive nub a nip before chuckling.

"You're awful jumpy t'day, baby." He said, kissing that sweet little pearl a couple of times, stroking it with his fingers as you huff out a whine.

"Your fault..." You groaned, daring to look down at him.

Your eyes locked and he gives you a short wink, lowering his mouth again, this time dragging his tongue up your folds slowly before moving back down again as his thumb rolls your clit in opposite tune of his mouth.

Your head dropped back onto the bed and your voice seized in your throat, one hand bunching in the sheets while the other goes to grip at his immaculately slicked-back hair, tugging the strands free as you feel his tongue curl inside of you.

Cooper was good with his mouth; both on-screen and in the bedroom, this was never a debate.

His tongue was so skilled it had your legs all but jelly one night when he parked it at the local lookout; he'd lifted the cupholder separating your seats and tugged your hips over to him, leaning across the divider to eat you out right there in the front seat of his car. You barely had enough time to grasp that it was really happening before he ripped those sweet, sweet sounds he loved so much from you.

God, were you thankful that nobody had caught you two that night; "Cooper Howard caught in compromising position at Lover's Lane" you could just imagine the press salivating at that headline if they'd caught you.

You were happy he kept his antics on set confined to his trailer... but you had a feeling somebody walking by could probably hear what went on in there.

"Oh, fuck--Cooper!" You mewled, arching your back when he slid his long fingers inside of you, his lips wrapping firmly around your clit like a vacuum, writing obscene love-notes with his tongue, drawing more and more of your beautiful voice from inside of you.

Your toes curled and your hand tugged at his hair, making him groan and his eyes roll; his voice vibrating against you in a way that had you practically sobbing.

"Jus'--fuh--fuck." You moaned breathlessly, your heart pounding in your chest, your toes curling so hard you could feel your calves beginning to cramp.

"B-baby I'm--" You hiccuped; "'m gonna... gonna..."

All your words did was spur him on further, encouraging him to flatten his tongue in one long, slow drag until he could flick your clit again, his face and hand already soaked with your mess; his eyes dark and hungry like a wolf about to eat his lamb.

"That's it baby, c'mon, give it t' me." Cooper muttered against you before stroking your clit once again with his fingers, plunging his tongue and fingers inside of you in an alternating rhythm that had your brain feeling like it was turning to liquid sludge inside your skull as your climax hit you as if it were a runaway freight train.

Both of your hands gripped his hair tight, your thighs squeezing around his head, the flesh molding around his head wonderfully as he drank down your release, his hands going around your thighs to reach up and squeeze your belly while you rutted against his mouth; your voice babbling the sexiest things he could ever hope to hear from you.

When your orgasm finally died down and your legs dropped to hang over the edge of the bed, Cooper pulled back and grinned up at you, his face slick and shiny with your juices, his hair an absolute mess.

Fuck, he looked so good like that.

"You good, darlin'?" He asked you, his hands spreading over the squishy pouch of your tummy, his fingers tracing the stretch marks that lightly etched your skin.

"I... Y... yeah. Just need a breather." You pant, your eyelids heavy as you blinked up drunkenly at the ceiling.

"Good. He hummed, leaning down to kiss your throbbing clit, grinning at how your breathing stuttered and your body twitched as he did.

"Cause I can eat a peach for hours, babydoll."

[samsxowboyhat]

Redacted headcannons BUT some of them are actually cannon

After Vincent got turned and William was positive he wouldn’t go on a bloodlust spree he would sometimes go out and forget he was rich

Asher was one of those overly excited tall scrawny kids who would get colorful bands on his braces

Aaron and Elliot would play as duo characters for every video game that allowed the player to select characters

Gavin would know how to do things but wouldn’t know how he knew how to do them

Laskos powers sometimes happen as a reflex like his fight or flight instinctively turns into float the second he feels his body falling or if he’s on high places(you wouldn’t catch this man on any roller coaster)

Sam has an old outdated picture of him and his grandmother that’s in black and white

All earth elementals are naturally strong, Water elementals are naturally smart, Fire elementals are naturally determined, and Air elementals are naturally focused

Milo and Sam’s family bloodline has/had problems with addiction so they never associate with alcohol or smoking with the fear that they could get addicted

Quinn used to “joke” with Darlin when they were still together by grabbing them and pretending to turn them when they weren’t paying attention and to this day they wonder if he was serious about biting them

Asher was one of those kids who would listen to old metal songs over and over(AND OVER) again until he learned the lyrics

Sam does own a cowboy hat and the Shaw pack(main 8) has made “save a horse, ride a cowboy” jokes(Sam doesn’t know wtf they’re talking about)

Darlin would lie to Gabe and David’s mom about their parents letting them stay over because they wouldn’t wanna go home

Lasko wears sweaters WITH EVERYTHING

Gavin got his music taste from FL when they first started meeting up claiming that he wanted to get closer to them rather than having sex with them

Darlin and Sam were cautious when they had their first time always asking each other if they were okay before, between, and afterwards

David’s contact name in the pack phones is “Davey” but they’ll never admit that to his face(he currently knows that Asher and Angel have it as theirs)

Gavin has nipple piercings and a tongue piercing(he has tried to convince Lasko to get one)

Darlin has a slight degrading kink that you could NEVER get them to admit(Sam found that out when they once started crying and he thought he hurt them and was flabbergasted when they told him to do it again)

ALL of Asher’s shoes are dirty except for his dress shoes and Milo gets so pissed when he wears nice sneakers and creases them or gets them dirty

Angel and Baabe both like kpop specifically Ateez and seventeen

Sam has a house in the woods and prefers a working house over a cute one(he has a porch swing)

Sam doesn’t like talking about his family but could go hours talking about his grandma

David hates the nickname “Dave”(don’t ask me why I just feel like he does)

Darlin once thought they hurt sams feelings and disappeared for days until they came back with a gift for him and waited until he saw it before talking to him(they’re terrible at apologizing and refused to tell Sam where they went while they were gone)

Porter always kisses Treasure's knuckles

FL has once broken a comb in caelums hair(but was so confused when they were able to move their hands through his hair)

The younger Shaw pack had a clubhouse in the woods in an abandoned cabin that Gabe helped David clean up

TS TOOK ME ALMOST 3 HOURS I QUIT(I’m lying:3 GM AND GN It’s currently 4:36 IN THE MORNING)