#the cowboy hat is ridiculous but so hot

[yzzyhee]

flamin’ hot lemon — lhs

bf!heeseung x gf!reader

warnings: established relationship, suggestive (blowjob— minors dni), kissing/making out?, petnames (baby), lowcases written

wc: 3.8k~

synopsis: you know how the saying goes… save a horse, ride a cowboy… or do something about it as long as it’s saving the horse…

now listen to: flamin’ hot lemon — jaehyun

a/n: now. this song was on repeat ever since the release so obviously, it had to happen as i remembered the sweet venom stage— also ! first time writing smth that’s like not fluff / small suggestive and actually going almost all the way in but well, this was heavily saved by my beloved precious @ja3yun — a big round of applause cause without her this fic would’ve never seen the daylight 🙂‍↕️ anyway, feedbacks & constructive criticism is appreciated ✌🏻

ps. my wife said to make it clear there won’t be a part two so i’m saying it — there won’t be a part too.

you blink. and then you blink again, and again, and again as if each time you won’t be met with the same view, thinking it must be your eyes playing tricks with you.

“baby? you okay?” heeseung asks, a slight hint of worry in his eyes though his tone gives him away. he knows. of course, he knows why you’re suddenly speechless, staring at him as if he came out of your shared bedroom completely naked.

your mouth parts, forming an “o” as you try to wrap your mind around the view before you. and what a beautiful view… there he stands, your boyfriend, in all his denim-clad cowboy glory.

the fitted jacket hugs his frame in all the right places, highlighting his broad shoulders and the way the jeans cling to his legs is almost unfair. a silver belt attached to his jeans that accentuates his pretty tiny waist. and of course, the most important part of it all, the cowboy-denim hat that sits low on his head, casting a shadow over his mischievous eyes.

you knew you were going to match — a cowboy always has to have his cowgirl after all. you have the perfect blend of casual and playful; a fitted, deep red plaid button-up shirt, with the sleeves rolled up just above your elbows, high-waisted denim shorts that hug your hips perfectly, a fringed brown suede vest that you wear over your shirt, and a pair of scuffed-up cowboy boots completing your whole look.

“yn?” he smirks, his voice low as he takes a slow step toward you. “cat got your tongue?”

you blink again, the heat rising in your cheeks as your brain scrambles to catch up. your mind isn’t cooperating with you, struggling to string together a coherent thought, let alone a sentence. you try to focus, but the way heeseung is standing there — all cocky and confident in that ridiculously attractive cowboy outfit — has your nerves completely scrambled.

“i- what… what is this?” you finally manage to stutter, gesturing vaguely toward his outfit. the words feel clumsy on your tongue, your heart pounding a little too loudly in your chest.

heeseung chuckles softly, his hands casually resting on his hips, the gesture making you even more aware of how well the denim clings to his figure.

“it’s for the party tonight. you like it?” his voice is low, teasing, and you know now that he’s fully aware of the effect he’s having on you.

right, the party. your friends thought it was a brilliant idea to throw a random halloween party even though it wasn’t even remotely close to 31st october, yet, you still agreed without much thought. but now, standing here, facing heeseung like this, it’s hard to focus on anything except how your pulse seems to be dancing under your skin, and how your throat has gone dry.

you try to clear your head, but every time you look at him, the butterflies in your stomach only get worse. heeseung’s eyes don’t leave yours, the playful spark in them making your pulse race even more. his presence feels overwhelming, like the air between you two is thick with electricity.

“i-yeah,” you breathe, swallowing hard. “i just wasn’t expecting… this.”

his smirk deepens, and you catch the slight shift in his expression, a glimmer of amusement mixed with something else—something darker, more intense. “i wanted to surprise you,” he says, his voice soft now, like he’s not just talking about the costume.

and suddenly, you’re acutely aware of how close he’s standing, the warmth radiating off him, the way his fingers brush against your waist as he steps in even closer. you can smell his cologne, something warm and familiar, but tonight it feels different, headier and spicier somehow.

“so, are you surprised?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper now, as he gently tilts your chin up, his thumb tracing along your jawline.

you nod, your breath hitching in your throat. you’re not sure if it’s the way he’s looking at you, or the way his thumb continues to brush against your skin, but you feel like your heart might just burst out of your chest. everything feels so intense — like the whole room has shrunk to just the two of you.

heeseung leans in, his lips hovering just above yours, and you feel like time slows down. your heart is racing, your entire body tingling with anticipation as his breath mingles with yours. you close your eyes, waiting, wanting.

then, he closes the distance, his lips finally meeting yours in a soft, tentative kiss. it’s gentle at first, like he’s testing the waters, but when you respond — when you kiss him back with equal intensity — something shifts. the kiss deepens, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between your bodies.

your mind blanks, the only thing you can focus on is the warmth of his lips against yours, the way his hands grip your waist, the way he kisses you like he’s been waiting for this moment just as much as you have. it’s slow but deliberate, filled with a tenderness that has your heart fluttering wildly in your chest.

when he pulls back, his forehead resting gently against yours, his breath is slightly uneven, and his lips are curved into a soft smile.

“i think we should head out for the party now…” you say, your voice just slightly louder than a whisper.

humming in response, heeseung’s lips brush your forehead in a featherlight kiss before he straightens, his hands reluctantly sliding from your waist. “right,” he says, his voice hushed and warm, though there’s a playful glint in his eyes. “wouldn’t want to keep the party waiting.”

by the time you reach your friend’s hourse, it’s buzzing with life. you can hear the thumping bass of music before you even reach the front door, the muffled sound of laughter and voices spilling out onto the porch. the house is decked out in full halloween glory — orange and purple lights drape across the front yard, casting an eerie glow over the hay bales and fake tombstones scattered across the lawn. a giant inflatable skeleton waves ominously from the roof, its eyes flickering red.

the inside of the house is even more chaotic. there are people everywhere, dressed in every kind of costume imaginable — witches, zombies, vampires, superheroes — filling the space with laughter and energy. the smell of caramel apples and popcorn mingles with the unmistakable scent of candy and punch, and the air is thick with excitement.

heeseung’s hand tightens slightly around yours as you weave through the crowd, his thumb still brushing against your skin in that comforting way you love so much. you catch glimpses of familiar faces as you move deeper into the house, waving at people you know from classes as you pass. everyone seems to be caught up in the pre-halloween spirit, and the atmosphere is electric, a blend of fun chaos and easygoing joy.

you suddenly spot jay, his cowboy hat cocked at a ridiculous angle, standing with his girlfriend, aejay, by the snack table. jay is in a flannel shirt and boots, looking like he stepped straight out of a western, while aejay rocks a sleek, edgy vampire costume — her dark lips and red contacts making her look both elegant and slightly dangerous. they’re laughing about something, jay’s arm slung casually around her shoulders.

when jay catches sight of you and heeseung, his grin widens. “well, well, look who finally decided to show up!” he calls, raising his red solo cup in greeting. “and look at you, heeseung, pulling off that cowboy look like you were born for it.”

heeseung grins back, tugging you closer as you approach. you laugh, shaking your head. “is this some kind of cowboy reunion?” you ask when you reach the couple and eye jay more intently in his flannel and boots.

jay smiles and nods, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “we thought it’d be funny. jake should be around here somewhere too, dressed as that cowboy character from toy story.

heeseung immediately perks up, avid fan of the toy story movies, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “you mean woody?”

jay snickers, already sensing where this is going.

“well,” heeseung says, glancing at you with a mischievous grin, “looks like jake’s the only one buzzing with excitement tonight.” he leans closer to you, voice dropping to a playful whisper. “but don’t worry, baby — i’m no toy. you don’t have to pull my string to get me talking. however, you can pull on something else…”

you roll your eyes, groaning at the cheesy, suggestive line, but you can’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. “heeseung,” you laugh, nudging him in the side, “let’s just hope jake doesn’t take the woody too seriously tonight.”

jay bursts out laughing at that, and even heeseung’s eyes crinkle with amusement.

the four of you chat for a while, catching up amidst the hum of the party. aejay, always the life of any gathering, starts telling a dramatic story about how she had to battle three different costume stores to get the perfect set of vampire fangs. jay interrupts her every few seconds, adding his own exaggerated spin to the tale, making you laugh until your stomach hurts.

the lights are dim, casting everyone in a soft, warm glow, and the air is filled with the scent of sugar and cinnamon, along with the occasional burst of cold air from the open back door.

it’s a perfect kind of chaos—the kind where time seems to slow down and you’re acutely aware of every moment, every laugh, every smile. but most of all, you’re aware of heeseung’s presence beside you, his hand never leaving yours, his arm wrapping around your waist every so often, like he can’t bear to be too far away from you.

you keep stealing glances at him, your eyes tracing over the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his denim jacket fits perfectly across his broad shoulders.

you bite your bottom lip, unable to comprehend how this ridiculously handsome man is yours. every time you look at him, an involuntary expression of satisfaction and adoration spreads across your face. that’s right, he is yours.

sensing your stare, heeseung leans down, his lips ghosting over your ear in that soft, teasing way that always makes your heart race. “having fun?” he asks, his voice low and intimate, like a secret meant only for you.

you look up at him, your heart fluttering in your chest as you meet his gaze. his eyes are dark, full of warmth, and something else — something that sends a rush of heat to your cheeks. you nod, feeling your breath hitch slightly. “yeah,” you whisper, smiling softly. “i’m having a lot of fun.”

heeseung grins at your response, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as his arm tightens around your waist, pulling you just a little closer. the heat between you feels tangible, like the rest of the crowded room has melted away, leaving just the two of you. “good,” he murmurs, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple.

then, he leans back just enough to look into your eyes, his fingers grazing your chin. with a gentle touch, he tilts your head up towards him, his thumb brushing across your skin as he smiles, his voice dipping even lower. “wanna have even more fun?”

the way he says it, the way his eyes flicker with mischief, makes your pulse quicken. you can feel the air between you both shift, thick with anticipation, and all you can think about is how close his lips are to yours, how effortlessly he seems to set your whole world spinning with just a look.

heeseung’s grin deepens as he holds your gaze, his fingers still resting gently under your chin. you feel the tension change between the two of you. his face has written trouble all over it and, without another word, he gently grabs your hand, forgetting about your friends and starts tugging you through the crowd with that easy confidence you love so much.

“where are we going?” you ask, your heart racing in your chest, excitement swirling inside you as you follow him down the dimly lit hallway.

heeseung glances back at you, that signature playful smirk tugging at his lips. “wouldn’t you like to know?” he says, his voice teasing.

before you can ask another question, he stops in front of the bathroom door, pushing it open slightly and pulling you inside with him. the moment the door clicks shut, the noise of the party fades into a distant hum, leaving just the two of you together in the small space.

your back presses gently against the bathroom counter and heeseung leans in, his hands bracing on either side of you, caging you in, his eyes dark with a playful intensity. he doesn't say anything for a moment — just looks at you, his gaze roving over your face like he's taking his time, savouring the way you're biting your bottom lip, the way your breath catches every time he gets a little closer.

"you’ve been staring at me all night," he murmurs, his lips brushing just barely against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "got something on your mind, baby?"

your cheeks burn as his words settle over you, but you can't stop the grin that threatens to split your cheeks. "maybe," you tease back, your hands instinctively finding their way to the front of his denim jacket, your fingers toying with the fabric.

heeseung’s eyes flick down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. "you know," he says softly, his voice laced with amusement, "if you wanted my attention, all you had to do was ask."

you laugh, the sound light and breathless, your body buzzing with anticipation. "oh, i’ve had your attention all night," you counter, your voice just as teasing, leaning in closer, your lips grazing his jaw. "haven’t i?”

his breath hitches slightly at the contact, his arms tightening around you. "yeah, you have," he admits, his voice dropping to a hushed whisper, like it's just for you. "but now... i think I want a little more."

your heart skips a beat at his words, your pulse thrumming wildly in your chest. heeseung leans in, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours, close enough.

your heart races as heeseung’s lips hover close to yours, the tension between you thick and electric. the space around you seems to shrink, and the air feels warmer, heavier, with anticipation. his breath mingles with yours, and you're maddeningly aware of how close his body is to yours, how his hands on either side of you are steady, but his eyes — his eyes tell you he's barely holding back.

your hands tighten their grip on the front of his jacket, pulling him closer still, your breath dancing with his. the sound of your heartbeat thrums in your ears, loud and steady, as you resist the urge to close the gap between you immediately. instead, you let the tension simmer, savouring the way it builds and swells in the space between you both.

"i want to give you something," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

heeseung raises an eyebrow, his eyes dark with curiosity and desire, but his smirk never falters. "yeah?" he murmurs, his lips just a breath away from yours, his hand gently sliding down your arm, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. "what’s that, baby?"

you bite your lip, your pulse quickening. "a little reward," you tease, your voice playful yet laced with intent.

his grip on your waist tightens slightly, and you can feel the tension in his body as he leans in closer, his lips brushing the edge of your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "i like the sound of that," he whispers, his voice low and rough.

you grin, your heart racing, and slowly, you let your fingers slide down from his jacket to his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your touch. "but," you say, tilting your head up just enough so your lips graze his jaw, "you'll have to be patient."

heeseung groans softly, his head dipping forward until his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm and uneven. "you’re killing me," he mutters, though there's a hint of amusement in his tone, like he's enjoying this playful back-and-forth as much as you are.

"patience," you repeat, your fingers tracing slow, deliberate lines down his chest, your touch light enough to drive him crazy.

heeseung chuckles, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth, his voice thick with both amusement and frustration. "you’re really gonna make me wait?"

looking up at him through your lashes, the smile on your lips is playful but knowing. "i think it'll be worth it," you say, your voice teasing, and you lean up to press a soft, lingering kiss to his mouth

his lips press back against yours, but before he can deepen the kiss, you pull away, your smile widening at the quiet groan of protest he makes. heeseung’s hands tighten on your waist, and his eyes meet yours with a mix of desire and amusement, like he knows exactly what you're doing, and he's more than willing to play along.

you tilt your head slowly, a playful smile tugging at your lips. before heeseung can even register what's happening, you drop to your knees, the cool bathroom floor sending a brief shiver through you. when you look up at him, his breath catches, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows thickly.

his hands, which had been resting on the counter behind you, grip the edge tightly now, knuckles white with tension. his gaze locks with yours, dark and full of surprise, anticipation, and something deeper. you can see the way his chest rises and falls, his breath coming faster as the realisation of your bold move settles in.

"y/n." heeseung breathes out, his voice rough, like he's struggling to keep control. his eyes flicker between your face and the space between you, his hands twitching as if unsure of whether to stop you or let you continue. but his body betrays him — he's frozen in place, caught between disbelief and desire.

you bite your lip, leaning closer, your fingers lightly grazing the fabric of his jeans. "shh," you whisper, your eyes never leaving his. the power shift between you both is palpable, the air between you charged with intensity.

you can see the effect you're having on him-the way his breath hitches, his muscles tensing under your touch, the raw hunger in his gaze as he watches your every move.

for a moment, you both just stay there, the silence in the small bathroom heavy and thick with expectancy. heeseung’s jaw clenches, his hands still gripping the counter as he lets out a shaky breath. his lips part as if to speak, but no words come out, just another sharp inhale as he watches you, eyes hooded and dark with want.

but instead of taking things further, you pull back just slightly, your teasing smile widening. "still want me to keep going?" you ask, your voice soft but dripping with playful intent, leaving him on the edge of anticipation.

heeseung’s grip loosens for a moment, and he lets out a low, breathless chuckle, his voice hoarse. "you’re really not playing fair, are you?"

you wink at him and moisturise your lips. a feel of rage and desire rushes to heeseung’s limbs as you free his now hard dick. your hands wrap around the base of his dick and you stroke him with a rotating motion. a small gasp escapes your boyfriend’s lips as a zap of pleasure shoots down his spine.

heeseung’s fingers sink into you hair, gathering it in a ponytail, and then yanking you back not so smoothly. you look back at him, eyelashes batting and lips forming a pout. “let me have a taste, please.”

and who is heeseung to say no to you? he stares at you as you slide his length into your hot, wet mouth, the tip of him disappearing past your lips as you continue pumping him at the base slowly, your grip tightening gradually.

your movements are slow, teasing and sensual. you peek up at your boyfriend through your lashes the whole time, watching his reactions, relishing in each moan and hiss — loving the effect you have on him.

suddenly, heeseung tugs you away gently, his fingers tangled in the makeshift ponytail he created, his eyes dark but steady as they meet yours. his lips curl into a teasing smirk as he watches you spread his precum across your lips. his thumb lightly brushes your bottom lip, and his breath hitches for a moment.

"why did you stop me?" you ask, your voice soft but with a hint of frustration, groaning slightly at the abrupt interruption.

his grip tightens ever so slightly around your arms as he pulls you up to stand, his expression shifting from playful to something more serious, yet still burning with desire.

“we’re leaving the party now, get up.” he says firmly, voice low and commanding.

you frown at first, confused by the sudden shift, but before you can question him, he's already pulling you closer, his hands gripping your elbows as he makes sure you're steady on your feet. his eyes soften as he sees your confused, slightly hurt expression, and his lips press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“no, no, baby. i loved it, i love you” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin, “ but we’re doing things my way now. let’s go home.”

a playful smile spreads across your face, and you nod, understanding the promise behind his words. "as long as you wear the hat while fucking me, i’ll go anywhere you want," you tease, your voice playful but full of anticipation.

heeseung chuckles, adjusting the cowboy hat still perched on his head “you really love this costume, don’t you?”

“you know what they say, save a horse… ride a cowboy…” you say in a sing-song voice, winking as you turn around and open the bathroom door to step out.

behind you, heeseung’s deep, booming laughter echoes down the hallway, and you feel his presence close behind as he follows you out. there’s a glint in his eyes, and you can feel the shift in the air, the promise of what's to come.

as you step back into the party, the noise and music barely register. all that's on your mind is heeseung, and judging by the heated look in his eyes, the feeling is mutual. there’s only one thing on his mind as he watches you saunter ahead — tonight, a lot of riding will be involved.

after all, he thinks with a smirk, a lot of horses need saving.

[crazylittlejester]

The whole chain wearing silly hats. Who's wearing what?

Wind: Propeller Hat.

Four: Frog Hat

Wild: Those squid hats with the silly eyes

Legend: Gnome Hat, but it’s the most vibrant obnoxious shade of pink you’ve ever seen in your life

Hyrule: A baseball cap with those plastic googly eyes slapped all over it

Sky: Bowling pin hat

Twilight: This

Warriors: Twilight threw a hot pink cowboy on him thats ever so slightly bigger than a cowboy hat SHOULD be, so he looks absolutely ridiculous

Time: Not really a hat but yknow those rubber horse heads? That

[fastboatsmojito]

moon I'm here to bring you cowboy hat rule Tyler Owens after discussing cowboy hat rule carmy with olive

anyways I think that would slay and Tyler would eat up you riding him while wearing his cowboy hat (and maybe his silly shirt)

-🌂

HELLYEAHHHHH COWBOY !!!!!!! 🗣️

IF YOU FEAR IT, RIDE IT - Tyler Owens x reader

| A/n; literally just threw this together as soon as the ask came in bc it’s making me BLUSH so forgive any grammar mistakes </3, cowboy hat and soaking wet white t-shirt combo save me.. everyone say thank you umbrella anon 🫶🏼

| WC; 690

| CW; 18+ smut btc obviously, Petnames; Sweetheart, Darlin’, Baby, and Cowgirl a few times oops. Praise, a little cheesy at times I couldn’t help it </3 only a little plot whoopsie daisy !

Dividers by @strangergraphics <3

If you could stare a hole through him he’d be nothing but his cowboy hat by now, shaking under the heavy clouds of rain above you as your eyes followed him out of his truck. Drops of water quickly seeping into his shirt, practically begging you to drool over him.

He shook his head with a smile when he saw what you were wearing; your favorite ‘this ain’t my first Tornadeo’ shirt with his face right in the middle. A gift he’d given you when you first got together, tears of laughter streaming down your face as you held it up in front of you ‘oh my god this is ridiculous, Ty. I love it.’ Easily one of your favorite memories.

You hugged him as soon as he was close enough, wrapping your arms around his neck as he laughed softly at your excitement. It was clear you weren’t letting go of him anytime soon, letting him pick you up swiftly to bring you inside.

“You weren’t waitin’ for me out there too long, were you?” He asked, kissing the top of your head as he kicked the door closed.

“Don’t want you gettin’ sick.” You moved your head from his shoulder as he sat down, hands planted firmly in the middle of his chest as you got comfortable on top of him.

“Just when I heard you pull up.” Your voice always made him soft, finally feeling at home again after a long work trip.

“Couldn’t wait to see me, huh?” He teased with a grin, adoration clear on his face as you studied his features, it hadn’t even been a week since you’ve seen him but it always felt like longer.

“I missed you!” You remarked through giggles as he grabbed your face and kissed each of your cheeks, his stubble tickling you.

“I bet I missed you more, darlin’.“ He contests, raising his eyebrows as you suddenly grabbed his hat from him, putting it on.

He knew how much you loved it, eyeing it on his dash every time you were driving with him, getting all shy when he told you how good you looked wearing it for him.

“Well if it isn’t my very own cowgirl. I ever tell you how much I love seein’ you in that?”

“Once or twice. Makes me feel hot, and getting to steal it from you is half the fun.”

“You are hot. Drives me crazy when you take it without askin’.” He confessed, pulling you in for a kiss until you were breathless and squirming over him.

“Ty,” You sighed, getting lost in his hands moving to draw little patterns over your upper thigh.

“Can I ride you?” You whispered into his ear, dragging your hand up and down over his chest as he groaned.

“‘Course you can, baby. Keep the hat on, let’s see if this cowgirl can ride.”

——

His Your hat and shirt were still on, your hands bracing yourself on his broad shoulders. Panting out as you moved over him, hips grinding down onto him every time he bottomed out.

“That’s it, sweetheart, just like that. Takin’ me like a fuckin’ dream, baby.” He praised, honeyed accent drawing out the words. His warm, rough hands moving under your shirt.

He looked relaxed under you, drinking in every sweet sound that left your mouth as he reveled in your warmth, groans and sighs of his own dancing between praises in your ears. Like this is exactly where he was supposed to be.

Your movements slowed down as your legs got progressively more tired as you went, sighing his name once again when he cradled the back of your head with one hand and thrusted into you.

“Shit- Ty,” You leaned down to quiet yourself on his lips, moaning into his mouth instead when the hand on your waist gripped you tighter, steadying you as he sped up.

“I know, darlin’.” He punctuated with a kiss to your temple, “Sweetest cowgirl in the world. Can’t believe I get to see you like this.”

He didn’t just see you like this, he made you like this, and that cowboy hat of his was one hell of an accomplice.

——

HEHEHEKF oh this was so sweet i love that flirty cowboy </3

[hongism]

THIS WORLD. - k. hongjoong (m)

➼ genre; smut (some minor angst and fluff) ➼ pairing; hongjoong x fem!reader ➼ au; outlaw!hongjoong, dystopian futurism, lore accurate ateez ➼ warnings; explicit smut ➼ rating; m/18+ ➼ wc; 4.5k

What he’s given you is essentially one chance and night. Nothing more and nothing less.

part of the outlaw miniseries.

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➼ smut warnings; piv, unprotected sex, oral: f, creampie, light choking/asphyxiation, dirty talk, breast/nipple play

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Cool night air brushes across your cheeks as you set foot on the roof, eyes already scanning your surroundings in the hopes of finding what you’re looking for here. Of course, it doesn’t take much — Hongjoong is a hard man to miss unless the government officials are looking for him, in which case he has an uncanny ability to make himself totally invisible in a crowd.

There are no crowds up here though; just you, him, and the night to keep you company.

You see him clearly across the stretch of roof that’s accentuated by gaudy neon signs and other electrical components that keep the bar below powered.

“Closed up shop for the night,” you offer as a means of greeting the man. He’s donned his usual dramatic regalia tonight as well, complete with the patterned bandana pulled up over his nose and the ridiculous cowboy hat he fetched out of a dumpster several months back. It matches the vibe of the bar, he had told you and Mingi. While you weren’t on board, Mingi was more than a little eager to pull together a similar outfit for himself. “Everyone else went home.”

K-Hot Chilli Peppers. When you saw the job listing online, you had laughed at the name before realizing that it’s only half as ridiculous as many of the other bars in Night City, and you weren’t about to be picky given that you were desperate to find a place that lets you actually use your tender’s license on the daily. Upon being hired, you were promptly told to not ask questions when two rugged outlaws came through the doors and went up to the roof without pause. Answers came on their own, naturally and over time as you peeled back the seemingly endless layers to the two vigilantes who had set up shop in your new place of employment.

Whatever the circumstances and however the stars aligned that night you saw the job listing, it all boiled down to this: standing across from Hongjoong on the rooftop under the stars with this magnetic sort of pull towards the man. A pull you shouldn’t even think to entertain mostly because you’d like to keep your job and also a little bit because you’d like to keep your life.

Hongjoong got a message today. You know that much because you saw the small moped buzz by in front of the bar after all the customers left, and though you don’t know who that delivery driver is, you know he always brings something more than crappy takeout. The most convincing piece of evidence came in how Mingi promptly stormed out of the bar without so much as a goodbye twenty minutes later, and now here you stand up on the roof with the last man standing not long after. You aren’t here to ask questions as that wouldn’t be in your right (fairly so).

“I’m gonna close up and lock everything, if you’re done?” you continue pressing when Hongjoong fails to say anything back to you. He turns, gaze sharp as it finds you across the rooftop. The next moment, he pulls his bandana down to rest around his neck and exposes his handsome face to you.

“We’re not gonna be around much longer.”

You pull your lips together and do your best not to frown. “They won’t know you were ever here.”

“They’re gonna come looking here. And they’re gonna rip the place apart trying to find us.” Hongjoong takes slow steps in your direction as he speaks, tone low and quiet as though trying to either threaten or warn you. You don’t think he has a need for either. “When they come knocking, it’s not gonna matter what you do know or what you don’t know. Just being affiliated by name is enough of a crime.”

“Business is too good to be knocked down by a little police search.”

Hongjoong sinks his teeth into his lower lip. The light from the neon signs bounces off his face and casts crude little shadows across the roof. He looks far too worried for your liking, almost like there’s a semblance of care in the man, which was not part of the plan. You think you’re the one to blame for that, considering how you can’t simply leave well enough alone and have to express some modicum of care for those around you, including the vigilante outlaws that frequent your workplace and stay after hours. And well, all these months that have passed in this comfortable routine have made the heart grow fonder in many ways.

You’re quite fond of him, you think, and maybe those feelings are reciprocated to some extent.

The sky is clear tonight, free of clouds but the lights and pollution from the city obstruct the stars somewhat even now. Curfew is about to begin, but there’s no chance of you making it home before the drones start patrolling the streets. You could have left thirty minutes ago — should have most likely, but that chance is well and gone now.

“We leave tomorrow. I don’t know when we’ll be back.”

When is merely code for if, and you’re not dumb enough to think otherwise. If he survives whatever obscene plan he’s ready to deploy, you’re positive that Hongjoong won’t come back or set food near the bar again, even as a hideout. Men like him don’t stick to one place for long, especially not when their heads are full of grandiose plans of anarchy and destruction. You don’t blame him for it, but it does make your heart ache a little more than it should.

Your shoes skid across the stone of the roof as you cross the distance between you and him. It breaks the silence you’ve presented as an answer to him, and Hongjoong’s eyes grow wider as you turn the space into an afterthought. Shaky hands find their way around Hongjoong’s shoulders then come to clasp behind his neck.

“Tell me you’ll survive,” you plead to the night air between your lips.

“Of course I will,” he answers without hesitation, whether a lie or a truth he is willing to truly stand by and believe. You don’t ask that he tell you he’ll return here; some dreams are a bit too far-fetched.

When your hands begin to fall away from him, Hongjoong dips his chin and slots his lips over your parted ones. You scramble to regain your hold on him, fingers stretching up to tangle in the dark blue strands of hair on the back of his head just below where his hat sits. The pressure against your mouth is faint to begin with, something small and searching as he tests the waters and waits for your response. As though pulling him closer and nearly kissing him moments ago wasn’t enough of a confirmation for whatever this is.

“This is all I can give you,” he exhales into your mouth, and you press another heated kiss against his lips. I don’t need more than this. This is enough. This is all I could ask for from someone like you. It would be nice if you could ask for more but this is all the greed you can bear. His hands wander from your hips up to the hem of your shirt that sits against the loops of your jeans. The first contact of his fingertips on bare skin hits you like a bucket of ice water and sends goosebumps all across your body.

“Hongjoong,” you say against his mouth as he palms his way down to your thighs. He does well to quiet whatever thoughts are rushing through your head right now with his lips, breaking from yours to mouth along the line of your jaw. The force of his body moving against yours is enough to push you back, and you fall into step with him in an almost haphazard sort of way. Your back hits the wall soon after, right beside the door you just came out of minutes prior, and now Hongjoong has you pressed against the concrete with a knee slipping between your thighs. “Hongjoong.”

“You can’t stay here.” The blunt tips of his painted nails dig into the flesh above your jeans. A gasp tumbles from your lips as he licks over a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, and it makes your knees buckle in turn. “I can have two of my men transport you to a different area of the city in the morning. Earlier the better. We won’t be enacting any plans under the sun’s gone down.” You busy yourself with the buttons keeping his shirt around his body.

“No.”

He pauses where he is, halfway to removing your shirt from your torso, and looks you in the eye. You abandon his shirt in favor of clasping both hands around his cheeks.

“I’m not going anywhere because you’re going to come back to me and get me yourself.” Rather than denying your wistfulness, Hongjoong offers a half-smile and a breathy laugh, one you share in yourself before pulling his face back up to your own. You taste his lips again, but this time you pay more attention to it, the hint of spice on his tongue as he pushes past the seam of your mouth and explores you further. Your hands are busy with his shirt once more under the urging of your eagerness to have him. He responds in kind by hiking your shirt up over your chest and dragging the blunts of his nails down over the exposed skin on his path to your pants.

“Let me go down on you?” Your chest tightens at the proposition and at the way his voice sounds inexplicably strained from the mere thought of tasting you.

“Take this stupid shirt off first, for fuck’s sa—” Frustration wins the battle against his clothing, and Hongjoong leans away from you with a clear, resounding laugh that makes your stomach turn to mush. You ought to kick yourself in the side of the head for not acting on the blatant chemistry dancing between the two of you before now. Still, if this truly is a one-and-done thing, you’re going to do the absolute most to make it worth it. And maybe a bit unforgettable for both of you. Hooking your fingers under the handkerchief still tied about his neck, you pull Hongjoong close once again. He rushes to brace his hands on either side of you, his shirt still dangling from where it remains tucked into his ridiculous faux leather pants. His mouth goes straight for your neck, pulling the skin between his teeth and sucking so harshly at it that you feel tingles rush up to your skull. Your whine is music in the distant noise of the city, softly exhaled against the side of his head and disturbing the hair behind his ear. His hat is beginning to get in your way now too, especially as he kisses a path down to where he left your shirt. You catch the brim just before he goes lower, stripping it off his head with the hand you have draped around his shoulders. When he looks up at you from between your breasts, you smile, close-lipped but with an arched brow meant to tease further.

“The amount of filthy, heinous jokes on my mind right now,” he groans, head dipping forward to rest against your chest.

“If you make any sort of cowboy joke I’ll make sure you finish in your hand and nowhere else.” The threat is halfhearted of course, but it makes Hongjoong laugh in that obscenely pretty way again and you revel in the sound as he frees your breasts just enough to have access to them. Your nipples are already hardened peaks thanks to the simple touches from earlier, but the cool air stiffens them even further before Hongjoong has the chance to pull one into his mouth. Your back curls up off the wall, Hongjoong pinches your right nipple, and at the same moment, he pushes you back to the wall with enough force to punch a moan out of you.

“F-Fuck, Hongjoong.” You’re suddenly rather grateful to have something to hold onto because otherwise you would be digging your nails into your palms and making yourself bleed. As it is, you might run the risk of ruining Hongjoong’s treasured hat with how tight you’re gripping it at present. Your other hand sits on his bicep, atop the black-lettered inking that dances across his arm and reminds you that this man in your arms is one of a kind. You wonder, far and away in the back of your brain, how many have had the pleasure of being in your current position. He disperses those runaway thoughts mere seconds later; his hand sneaks down from its perch cupping your breast and locks onto the button keeping your pants together. The resulting lewd and wet pop! that comes from him pulling his lips away from your nipple makes your neck heat up.

“Bet I could make you cream your panties without even getting in your pants,” he quips as the button comes loose. Deftly, he works the zipper down in the same smooth movement.

“Who are you trying to impress, cowboy? You’ve already got me for the night.”

The muscles in his neck strain as he laughs and tilts his chin to the side, and your breath hitches watching him sink to his knees between your legs. Hongjoong folds his fingers around your wrist — the hand that currently holds his hat by the brim — and slowly, he guides you to place it back where it belongs atop his head.

“There. Now you can call me that again.” You can’t hide the unsteadiness of your breaths from him like this, even though he’s currently occupying his focus with stripping you of both jeans and underwear in one go. You brace a hand over your heart just to make sure it's still part of you despite racing like you’ve just run a marathon. Hongjoong’s lips skate against the inside of your knee when he lifts your ankle and carefully pulls the boot from your foot. Fabric follows suit quickly, then he commits to the same routine for your other leg — complete with the ghosting kisses and soft drags of his nails over the bare skin of your thighs. The growing pit of arousal in your stomach is so heavy that you think it might simply drip out of you the moment he touches your folds.

“Hongjoong,” you whisper. His kisses climb to the inside of your thighs, close enough to exhale heated breath across your pussy, but he doesn’t push further than that. Content to sit between your legs in the lewdest of positions and stare up at you through fluttering lashes.

“That’s not what you called me.” Hongjoong grins, cheek brushing against your thigh so close to your sex that your muscles twitch. “Maybe I’ll consider it—” he enunciates the word particularly harshly “—and do whatever you’d like?”

“You’re so — ugh, I want you to eat me out,” you mumble into the cradle of your hands, hardly able to look down at the man and be expected to speak like a normal functioning human being in this sort of predicament. He’s silent in return. “Cowboy.”

The veil of seriousness drops at that, and you’re the first to laugh at the sheer absurdity of calling him such a thing right now. Hongjoong can’t seem to keep himself together either, huffed laughter spilling out of him in turn.

“I wasn’t serious about you calling me that, y/n, I was just teasing. But I guess you want it pretty damn bad, huh?”

“Shut up!” Your tone contorts into a cracked gasp as Hongjoong wraps a hand back and around your thigh and spreads your legs over his face. Your hand flies to cover your mouth — something done out of pure instinct — and the man beneath you is quick to tut his disapproval.

“Let me hear you, pretty. I don’t want you covering anything up.”

“I-It’s the middle of the night,” you argue through your fingers.

“And? Wake the whole damn city if you have to, I want you to cry on my cock.”

You let your hand fall away and come to rest atop Hongjoong’s head (his hat, rather). Your view of what he’s doing is entirely obscured except for the slightest glint of his eyes when he tilts his chin against your cunt. You can’t seem to tear your gaze off of him regardless, lips parted and quivering as he presses his tongue between your folds and takes his first taste of you. The tension in your gut is wound into a knot so tight that your eyes burn and sting at the corners. Hongjoong takes you into his palm, onto his tongue, and into his deft fingers, and unravels you gloriously.

Two fingers dip lower and press against your entrance. He teases you with the pad of his middle finger only, toying with your hole and pushing into you ever so slightly before retracting to circle your clit with his tongue. He can’t run his mouth as he very much loves to in this position, but you’re finding that he makes use of his mouth in other more devilish ways, another talent he keeps tucked under his belt that you’re reaping the benefits from.

You can’t think of the last time you got laid, and trying to think of the last good fuck you had would be an even taller order. To imagine when a man last ate you out with actual passion and not simply as a means to an end might be impossible, or perhaps Hongjoong is simply keen on blowing every last sexual experience you’ve had out of the water in one go. When his fingers finally, at long last, stretch you open, you cry out with a moan so loud that it would be a miracle if no one heard it.

“Gonna make you taste yourself on my lips, pretty. Make your little cunt cream all over my cock until I fill you up with cum.” You jerk Hongjoong’s head almost violently, a sharp response to the way his fingers curl against your walls, but it doesn’t deter him in the slightest from the task at hand. He pulls your clit between his lips and sucks until your knees give out under you. It sends his fingers deeper into your cunt in the same motion, nearly making you come undone.

“T-Too much, too much, Hongjoong, it’s — fuck, fuck, ah!” You fold in on yourself, free hand moving to press against your stomach as the pressure in you reaches an unbearable degree. Hongjoong works his fingers in and out of you at a steadily increasing pace and almost seems to be making a game of the way he curls them each time he flicks his tongue against your clit just for another moan to climb out of your throat. Each sound is more broken than the last, sweat beads on your forehead, and you think there’s a euphoric end in sight just for him to pull away without warning. Your walls clench tight around nothing as his fingers are now gone from you and sucked between his own lips. Dazed and frustrated, you pass an incredulous stare his way just for him to grin back at you, tongue teasing the vee between his fingers.

“Hm? Did you want something?”

“I—” Hongjoong eases your body back against the stone wall and hoists one of your legs around his hips. Your cunt is still tense and pulsing to the rhythm he spent all that time building. “If you don’t get inside me right the fuck now, Kim Hongjoong, so help me—”

He makes good on his promise to have you taste yourself on his lips. His tongue shoves its way into your mouth as well, eager to tangle with yours and push your arousal onto your own taste buds. You delight in the fervor with which he kisses you, and in the sound of his belt jingling because it means more pleasure is on the horizon. You feel a hand against your hip, and that’s the only real warning you get before he’s pushing the length of his dick into your pussy and burying himself to the hilt in you. You scramble to grab hold of him somehow. It’s a slight miracle that you don’t bite both his and your own tongues in the process because you cry out into his mouth. Your moan remains unbroken even when he pulls your mouths apart and rushes to cradle the back of your head before you whack it harshly against the concrete behind you. There’s not a second to catch your breath in Hongjoong’s mind; his other hand is busy at work, and he presses the pad of his thumb into your clit. He rubs once, twice, three times before you unravel on his cock.

“You’re so tight, fuck, if you could feel yourself, your cunt is so tight.” There are stars behind your eyelids, clearer than the ones in the sky, and Hongjoong begins to rock his hips up into yours as the weight of your orgasm barrels down on you. “You feel so good on me, pretty. Fuckin’ made for my cock, yeah?”

“Yeah, y-yes, yes, yes.” Your voice cracks at the tail end of your agreement. It turns into something more akin to a sob than a moan. Hongjoong’s pace is relentless in every regard. The lack of pause doesn’t let your body come totally undone or relax, still wound tight around your previous orgasm to the point where it feels like it won’t end.

“Keep taking it, lovely, I won’t be able to pull out with you squeezing around me like this.”

Whining, you drop your head to the side, chin coming all the way down to your shoulder. Hongjoong snakes his hand around to your neck and braces his index finger and thumb on either side of your jaw. Your head lolls in tune with the way he moves you and without resistance — every ounce of strength in your muscles has melted into goo in his hands. When he presses you back to the wall, your breath hitches. The sensation of his fingers at your neck has you feeling floaty and a bit detached from your body in the most pleasant way imaginable. His thrusts jerk your body enough to offer more pressure against your neck every so often but it’s not as persistent as you wish for it to be.

When you reach between your bodies and clasp your fingers around his wrist, Hongjoong seems to think that you want him to pull away because his grip loosens instantly.

“More,” you grit out, yanking his hand harder into the column of your neck. The steady rhythm he’s found falters momentarily for him to resituate his grip, but once he’s settled back into it, each thrust comes with a delightful headiness as your breath becomes shorter.

“’m close,” he announces. He shifts a hair to look down between your bodies and watches his length disappear into you a few more times before pulling his focus back up to your face with a groan. “Gonna cum in you, pretty, you’re still so tight.”

“Wanna cum with you, t-touch me again,” you pant, licking your lips between each phrase, “please.”

Despite his own shaky hands, Hongjoong reaches down to where his cock pumps in and out of you. He finds your clit with ease and rolls two fingers over it in a similar rhythm to his thrusts, pace only growing as he races towards his finish with you in tow. His motions fail as he orgasms, but the sudden feeling of his cock twitching inside your walls and pumping you full of hot cum pushes you over the edge with him. You almost don’t even feel it with all the sensations hitting you at once, and Hongjoong’s body falls against yours so harshly that your moan is positively unholy.

His hands keep roaming — tracing every inch of skin he can reach like he wants to commit it all to memory, and you simply let him do as he pleases because it feels good and it feels damn good to be wanted by this man. He pulls you towards a different section of the rooftop with your pants and underwear in hand. When he tugs you down to the messy pile of blankets that he and Mingi leave up here for particularly cold nights, you don’t even complain either. He lays himself down atop you, easing between your legs and caging you in with elbows pressed to concrete on either side of your head.

Hongjoong kisses you softly, and you smile against his lips. He finally settles down beside you after a few more exchanged kisses. His hat gets put aside with the other stray pieces of clothing — including his shirt that he’s finally decided to rid himself of far after the fact. The aftermath is peaceful, if a bit hazy as your brain still feels a jumbled mess of putty, and the stars above are bright.

“I’ll have someone pick you up in the morning to take you over to my men. The bar won’t be safe for a few weeks minimum. They can give you some cash to help cut your losses in the meantime too.”

“Okay,” you answer quietly. Beside you, his hand searches the blankets for your own. You let his fingers tangle with yours and squeeze until it hurts.

“Just don’t let Wooyoung try to convince you to buy into any scheme he might come up with.”

“Who?”

“Trust me, he’ll let you know who he is.” Hongjoong laughs at his own comment but falls into silence when he glances at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Come back for me please.”

Hongjoong is quiet beside you for several lingering seconds, then he leans across the empty space and kisses your temple.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

You believe him.

────────────

please like & reblog this work and consider leaving a reply or sharing your thoughts in a reblog or ask!

this work belongs to caly / hongism (2023). do not copy, repost, or plagiarize in any way.

[tencrushesperday]

Country Girl (Shake it for me)

matt rempe x reader

warnings : mentions of alcohol, sexual innuendoes, 454 word

no idea where i even got the idea, but let’s not forget our boy is a hockey player from calgary (he would probably laugh in my face for mentioning luke bryan out of all the country artists possible)

It was finally summer and you had Matt all to yourself. Now that your classes were over and he was done for the season, he had asked you to tag along to Michigan to meet with some of his hockey buddies at a country festival.

You had turned over the whole city looking for a specific pair of red cowboy boots. Your suitcase was packed with jean shorts, cute tops and sundresses. You planned on stealing Matt’s flannels and hoodies in case it was cold in Michigan (and his cowboy hat too obviously).

The camping site was set near the festival fields. You were the furthest thing from a country girl, born and raised in New York, with a lawyer mother and a father working in finance. So you had thought about offering Matt to pay for a hotel a bit further from the festival but he was so happy to be camping with his friends you couldn’t get on your high horses and sound like a prick.

You were already on your what? sixth? seventh? beer of the day and it was barely 5pm. If you couldn’t sing along to the lyrics, you were giving it your all in your moves.

Matt took you on his shoulders at some point and you were sure people behind you hated you both but you’re too buzzed to care.

You couldn’t believe your ears when Luke Bryan came on the stage. You felt ridiculous for only knowing this guy. You were jumping around as soon as Country Girl started playing.

You took Matt’s hands and made him jump in a circle with you, then he spun you around on the lyrics “spin me around this big ole barn” and you threw your head back in a laugh. Your white sundress was fly around you at the movements.

Your hips were swaying around on the guitar riffs and then you beckoned him closer with your finger till you could grab his white t-shirt.

He was so hot with his cowboy hat.

You knew your boyfriend was hot but he was looking particularly delicious in his country boy attire.

His shirt still in your hand, you pulled him even closer with a drunk smile on your face. He was mirroring a just as enamoured expression. You couldn’t help but take the hat off of his head and put it on yours while looking up at him through your lashes.

One eyebrow raised, he was giving you that “Are you sure?” look. So you got on your tippy toes and whispered in his ear “Don’t worry cowboy you’ll get a ride later”, the smirk audible in your words.

Later that night, you both disappeared from the party and went to “take a walk” by the lake as Matt had so expertly put when his friends asked.

[lennadanvers]

Pure Imagination: going to the thrift store with him

Eddie Munson x Reader

Eddie’s clothes are rarely new-new. Money’s always been tight, and you can’t get most of his favorite bands’ merch brand new in the tiny and boring Hawkins. So he goes to the (only) thrift store in town.

He’s bought some of his signature pieces there, and there’s always fun stuff. He used to go with Wayne all the time, whenever his uncle had a couple hours to spare. It’s one of the first places they went to when Eddie moved in with him. He didn’t have more than what he was wearing when he knocked on the trailer’s door, so Wayne helped him find some badass t-shirts and a couple jeans. He bought his first patch there.

As he grew up and started being able to take care of himself, his uncle stopped going with him. Wayne had to get as many shifts as possible to provide for the both of them; so he was always working or sleeping.

It’s okay. Eddie hasn’t needed help to try on clothes for a long time, and his uncle always let him decide what to wear anyway. But he likes to talk. And he gets bored easily. Besides, it’d be a shame if you missed the absolute treasures he’s found hidden in the racks.

Also, Eddie saw you once in there.

It was summer. The boiling sun came across the dirty front window and made your legs look golden. Your not-so-clean sneakers tapped on the floor at the rhythm of the music the owner had playing. Your dress- a sundress that had his nerves at risk of extinction- was short and light, flowing in the hot air the standing fan blew uselessly. You had your hair up. On one hand, it was a shame because he likes the way it moves. On the other, it left your neck naked. Eddie is almost sure he saw a tiny mole under your jaw. He wonders how it tastes.

You were looking through the teacups. As you lifted a small one with a silver edge and blue flowers, you smiled. Eddie found himself wondering if there were any castles around Hawkins- maybe he would get lucky, find one with an egocentric prince, get cursed and become a teacup. Would you like a black, metal teacup?

He felt both like a stalker and a little kid seeing his crush out in the wild. Still does, whenever he catches a glimpse of you.

Catches is kind of an understatement, though. He hunts traces of you.

Eddie is a sunflower. Hawkins is a very dark, very depressing and closed place. He’s trapped in it. But sometimes, when he hears your name or your laugh, he swears there’s a ray of sun in the corner. Like the very dark, very depressing place isn’t as closed as he thought. Like there is, in fact, a way out. Like you’re there, and that’s all he needs to survive.

So he stretches and stretches, grows in your direction- day and night, even when it looks like you’re not there anymore. Like a faraway ray of sunshine, you’ve never touched him, never made contact. Like a warm beam of light, you don’t know he’s there, don’t know his survival depends on you- it’d be impossible for you to know.

It's okay, though. He’s going to stretch as long and as far as he can.

He does so by pretending you’re telling him to try on the ridiculous jacket at the end of the rack. He chuckles to himself and pictures you wearing the awfully pink cowboy hat, and blushes when your imaginary voice smiles at him with a “’howdy!”. He doesn’t like cowboys- or cowgirls- particularly, but he likes you.

The phantom of you follows him to the fitting room, where he tries on jeans and t-shirts. Eddie has always been a little histrionic, so he enjoys having an audience. Even if it is an imaginary one. He twirls around, hoping to make you giggle. Agrees with you that those pants are a little too tight, but that he should get the shirt, though. And the sweater. He jokes- internally- that you’re going to wear it more often than him, he wishes.

Sometimes he spends a little too long daydreaming. Looking at you trying on skirts and boots, listening to your laugh, inventing stories to explain how each thing ended up in the thrift store.

Eddie likes talking. A lot. And it’s a little lonely going shopping all by himself.

He’s so lucky to have you.

I'm sorry it took so long. I have this thing where I start writing and then it sits there forever until I force myself to finish things. I like this, though. Hope you guys liked it <3

If you'd like to be added to the taglist, just let me know!

Taglist: @whataboutbibi @hellfirenacht @daisyridleyss

Masterlist here

[palioom]

string lights

summary: you want to decorate the Christmas tree, Jack has other things in mind.

pairing: jack “whiskey” daniels x f!reader

word count: 1.7k

warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n; dirty talk; unprotected p in v; some bondage; inappropriate use of string lights (and probably unsafe too)

a/n: finished this despite writer's block, enjoy!

• masterlist •

Never ever give Jack Daniels anything that resembles a piece of rope.

That was something she had learned quite quickly while living with him, because if Jack was one thing, it was a fucking menace.

A terrible, hot and cocky menace.

As soon as he could get his hands on rope inside the house – and sometimes even outside of the house, like in the barn – he would not hesitate to use it. It was a fun habit, really. The things he would do with it ranged from grabbing things from across the room, to catching her so he could pull her into his body amongst other quite entertaining things.

Or loop it around her body for an impromptu bondage session. Pretty knots carefully placed all over her body, making her writhe below his broad frame while she desperately moaned his name.

She really should’ve known better than to let him detangle the string lights for the Christmas tree. Because usually, that was her job. It was calming most of the time, sitting cross legged on the sofa and slowly freeing inch by inch from the huge ball it had turned into over the year.

With the TV running in the background, while Jack got the tree all set up in the corner of the living room before he would start on the exterior of the house.

This time, she had given him the task to detangle them, all because she wanted to decorate the living room. She hadn’t gotten around to doing it before now, setting down the little cowboy themed ornaments wherever she could.

Santa dressed as a cowboy, cows instead of reindeers, fitted with small Christmas hats and festive looking cowboy boots were just some of the things.

They had even more ornaments to go on the tree, some downright ridiculous, but charming in a way.

But just as she was finishing up the fireplace, hanging up stockings that looked like cowboy boots, she felt something loop around her middle and pull her back.

And that’s how she had ended up here, string lights wrapped around her wrists and arms, looping around her torso. Blinking in colourful lights like she was the Christmas tree – just spread out on the floor in front of it.

Arms raised above her head, the lights leading to the nearest outlet, Jack knelt between her bare, spread thighs and laughed at the display.

“Ain’t you a pretty thing?” He drawled, the southern accent thick as he spoke. Always showing those pearly white teeth as he smiled, his rough hands smoothing under the fabric of her top.

They were cold, a shiver running over her skin and her nipples hardening beneath the knitted sweater. 

“I look like a fucking Christmas tree.” She replied with a small laugh, arching her back when Jack’s hands found the swell of her breasts. A moan slipped past her lips as he squeezed them, his clothed bulge rutting against her naked pussy when he shifted slightly. “You gonna put me on display instead of that?”

A twinkle appeared in his eyes, clearly liking the idea she had thrown out as a joke. The mental image of her standing in that corner instead of the tree, full of ornaments and string lights, simply was too good.

“Don’t give me ideas, darlin’.” He chuckled, leaning over her to slot his lips over her own. Grinding his middle into her on purpose, just to hear those small gasps and pants tumble into his mouth, her legs wrapping around his middle.

She struggled against the restraints, some of the warm bulbs pressing into her skin - Jack had made sure these were LEDs so he wouldn’t accidentally burn her. It was kinda fun to be restrained like this, but, fuck, she really needed to touch him. Open the zipper of those damn jeans so he could finally fuck her instead of rubbing himself against her clit.

“Jack, please.” She whined against his lips, his thick mustache tickling her skin as he kept kissing her. Like he was in no rush to continue, despite the hard length in his jeans. “Fuck me.”

Jack leaned back with a chuckle, smirking down at her while he admired his work. The blinking lights only added to the usual excitement of seeing her tied up, completely at his mercy but now bathed in a flurry of lights.

A small, wet patch was visible on his jeans, making her groan.

“I think I’ll be nice today, little lady.” He drawled, his hands running over her exposed thighs, then over her calves before leaving her skin and finding the zipper of his jeans. “Givin’ you an early Christmas present.”

Even a so-called present from Jack included some teasing, palming himself with one hand while a small groan escaped him, the other one slowly pulling down the zipper. Keeping her squirming in her restraints, on the plush carpet below her.

“You’re gonna give me a headache, Jack.” She groaned, her eyes glued to where his thick fingers now vanished into his jeans to pull out his cock. Already leaking, the tip fat and dark and just begging to be buried inside of her. “Gimme your cock, please.”

Jack spit into his hand, giving himself a few small tugs, languid and teasing before moving closer to her. Slowly he let the head drag through her glistening folds, coaxing a whine out of her whenever he nudged against her swollen clit.

Savouring this, and the sight of her, watching how she spread her legs wider so she exposed herself to him. A million ideas raced through his head as he watched the lights blink rhythmically, making him unable to wait any longer as he pressed inside of her.

“Oh, fuck yeah…” She breathed out, enjoying the stretch his cock brought as he stretched her open, her fingers flexing and needing to touch him.

He braced himself with one hand on each side of her head, his cowboy hat lopsided when he looked down at her, brown eyes even darker than before. This was so much better than decorating the tree.

“You think we can do other things with those lights, cowgirl?” Jack rasped, already overwhelmed by her when he started to move. Slowly, pulling almost all the way back before slamming himself back into her. “Tie you to the bed with it? Make it a lil’ more festive?”

She nodded, moaning when he hit that good spot inside of her. The idea was good, something about him tying her to the bed with these string lights instead of their usual rope just added to the excitement.

The small lights pressing into her skin, warming it up, definitely helped turn her on. To see her skin lit up in reds and blues and greens while he fucked into her, his face illuminated by them too.

“Sounds fucking good, Jack.” She breathed out, her back arching when he picked up his speed. One of his hands bunched up the fabric of her sweater, pulling it up to expose her breasts to him, the air of the living room cold against her heated skin.

“Look at you like this.” He groaned, ducking his head to suck one pebbled nipple into her mouth, licking and biting at it while he kept fucking into her. “Think these are sturdy enough to hang you from the ceiling?”

“Oh, God.” She moaned. They had recently gotten into it, letting Jack tie his knots all around her body and then suspending her from their bedroom ceiling. That image made her squeeze his cock hard. “Please, yes!”

Jack chuckled around her nipple, his own mind consumed by the image of her suspended by these colourful lights. He could decorate her like a tree, add ornaments to the knots, into her hair. 

She always wanted things to be more festive.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you, little lady?” He drawled, feeling himself close to just spilling inside of her. The wet squelch of her was evidence enough that this needed to happen again. “Hangin’ from the ceiling, all nice ‘n pretty for me while I stretch your little pussy open with my fingers and my cock?”

“Tie me up again.” She whined, legs wrapping around his hips and pulling him in deeper. The wiry hair above his cock kept brushing against her clit, creating more of that friction she desperately craved, so close to the edge. “Gonna cum, Jack, fuck-”

The thought of it all - her hanging from the ceiling while the lights deliciously bit into her skin and Jack’s thick fingers fucked into her - let her orgasm crash into her, rolling over her like an avalanche. She pulled Jack closer, tightening the grip her legs had on him, a low grunt coming from him as her pussy sucked him in deeper, gripping him like a vice.

“That’s it, ‘atta girl.” He groaned, spilling his cum inside of her just a few shallow thrusts later, bending his head to press his lips onto hers, teeth clashing against each other with the force of it. “Cum all over my cock.”

Once again she strained against the string around her wrists, her arms hurting at this point while wave after wave washed over her, her whines and moans muffled by his mouth on hers.

Slowly calming down, he pushed himself up again, looking down at her while she dazedly smiled at him. Warm and cozy beneath him.

“You can detangle the lights more often, cowboy.” She giggled, wincing slightly when she moved her arms once more. Now that the rush of the pleasure and her orgasm ebbed away, it did hurt a little bit.

Jack swiftly opened the knots he had tied around her wrists before moving down her arms, granting her movement.

“I’m serious ‘bout you hangin’ from the ceiling, sugar.” Jack drawled, taking one of her wrists into his large hand once he had freed her and brought it to his mouth to kiss the faint, red mark there. A dangerous glint was in his eyes, and she knew that as the idea had sparked in his head, he would definitely go ahead and try it out with her. “We’ve got the setup, just gotta get more lights, mhm?”

She giggled again, shaking her head with a roll of her eyes. “Let’s get the tree set up first, alright?”

Jack laughed too, pulling out of her and then helping her get dressed.

Oh, he couldn’t wait to see her covered in those tiny lights once again. And maybe she’d let him decorate her just a little more, too.

[zepskies]

How would Beau comfort reader who’s gotten home from work and is feeling overwhelmed and sooky? I’m in need of comfort my the cutie patootie pls and thank you beloved 🫶🥺

Hello, my love!

I know it's been a while since you requested this @chernayawidow, but I’m so sorry you’re feeling down. It’s my pleasure to fulfill this prompt for you! 😘💞

AN: This is sort of a sequel to “Didn’t Mean to Stay,” but can be read as a stand-alone.

Word Count: 3,000 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, lots of hurt/comfort, fluff, and feels.

Imagine: Beau gives you the support you need.

You heaved a sigh while climbing up the short flight of stairs to your apartment. Why the hell you decided to live on the second floor, you had no idea…

Okay, mainly for the safety aspect of being a single woman living alone, but at least for the past year, you hadn’t been all that single (or alone, for that matter).

Seeing Beau’s truck in the parking lot reminded you that your boyfriend was already home from work. It was rare that you got here after him, but you perked up a little.

I hope he got something for dinner. Your stomach began to rumble at even the first stray thought of food. After the ridiculous day you’d had, you’d happily eat your weight in just about anything.

A hearty sandwich, Chinese lo mien, a whopping burger with fries…hell, you’d eat a whole damn bag of pizza rolls. As long as it was hot and you didn’t have to cook it.

Once you managed to insert your key and unlock the apartment, immediately there was too much sound coming from the living room. Guns and blasting and whoops and hollers. It all grated on your ears and your frayed psyche.

You grimaced as you locked the door behind you.

“Are we being invaded?!” you called.

Mercifully, the cacophony ceased as you walked into the living room and found your boyfriend with a sheepish smile. On the TV was an old western classic, The Magnificent Seven.

Typical, you thought. Your Texan cowboy loved his westerns.

“Sorry. Too loud?” he asked.

“Just a touch,” you replied.

“Well, I’m glad you're home.” Beau nodded at the TV. “Was gonna ask you what your Netflix password is.”

“What, don’t tell me you settled for 1960s cowboys?” you quipped.  

You dumped your purse on the coffee table and sunk onto the couch next to him. Beau slid an arm around your waist and pulled you in closer. You obliged by shucking off your shoes and resting against him, with your head on his shoulder. You let out a long sigh.

“Well, that was my fallback plan. See, damn Netflix booted me out and I’m really gearing up for that new season of Cake or Cake,” Beau said, with a somewhat childish smile that almost succeeded in tugging your lips upwards as well. Your brows drew together.

“Cake or…oh my God. You mean Is It Cake?” you asked. You nearly slapped yourself with your own hand as it came up to cover your eyes. Your shoulders shook with silent laughter.

“Ah, yeah. That one.” Beau grinned.

“I just can’t figure out how I keep guessing so wrong," he continued. "It looks like a hat. It should be a hat. How the hell is it actually cake? These guys are just so damn talented, I’ll tell ya. I mean, I’ve eaten my fair share of quality cake, but I ain’t never eaten a hat cake…though that does sound good to me, now that I think about it. Heh, I could finally say, ‘if that ain’t real, I’ll eat my own hat.’ And I’d actually be able to take a bite.”

Now, normally you found boyfriend’s diatribes incredibly endearing. Beau was a talker, and you appreciated having him with you at social gatherings. Not only was he great at connecting with people (something you very much admired), but the man was damn good at filling a silence.

Today, however, he was feeding the headache pulsing behind your eyes. You loved him dearly. Yet you were tempted to dig your nails into your own arm just to stop yourself from snapping at him to please, stop talking.

“Speakin’ of food, that reminds me. My stomach’s damn near ready to eat itself.” He eyed you. “What’s for dinner, baby?”

Your hand slid from your face and slapped onto your leg. Your head slowly turned to him.

“I don’t know, Beau. What’d you cook?” you said tartly.

It was an effort, considering how comfortable you were while tucked against him, but you moved his arm off your hip and lifted your heavy-feeling body off the couch. Shaking your head, you trudged a path over to your room.

You didn’t see it, but Beau frowned. Though you heard him follow after you. You did your best to go about your business, unbuttoning your pants and starting on your blouse. You were just so damn tired, and probably still anxious. Even your hands were trembling and fumbling with the buttons.

Still, you sensed him coming closer, saw his sock-covered feet out of the corner of your eye. The rest of him was comfortably dressed in sweatpants and a wool sweater you bought for him last month; he was getting better, but still acclimating to Montana winters.

“You’ve been here all this time,” you grumbled. “You see how late I’m coming in, and you don’t think, hey, my girl’s gonna be tired. Why don’t I figure out how to work the stove so she doesn’t have to worry about feeding my six-foot-ass, bottomless pit—”

Beau’s hands stilled yours, and he took over unbuttoning your blouse to help you. He bent his head enough to catch your eyes, smiling a little at your grumpy face.

“All right, all right. I see your point,” he said. “You had a bitch of day, huh?”

“The longest of my damn life,” you said. The stress of each moment played behind your eyes. So much that they stung with unshed tears when you raised your gaze to meet his.

Beau’s brows furrowed in sympathy. He paused in what he was doing to stroke your cheek and press a tender kiss to your forehead.

“And I wanna hear about it, but first, you go take a nice long shower,” he said. “What do you feel like eating?”

“Food,” you said petulantly. But he was being too sweet for you to be all that annoyed with him. A reluctant smile was growing across your lips. Beau smirked.

“You in the mood for Italian? Chinese? Maybe feeling a little adventurous and wanna try that Greek place down the street?” he suggested. “I think they deliver.”

By now he’d worked your blouse open. His hands were finding their way along the curve of your waist, smoothly across your skin, then meeting at the small of your back. He pressed the heel of one hand there, where he knew your shitty desk chair often made you ache.

You gripped his strong arms for support and leaned into him. You let out a sigh and rested your cheek against his chest, where he dropped another kiss on the top of your head.

“Greek sounds good, actually,” you confessed.

“Mmm, hell yeah. You want chicken, steak, or lamb on your gyro?” he asked. You felt the reverberation of his hum, and it was weirdly soothing. Though his question reminded you of one of your favorite movies that you too often quoted to him: My Big Fat Greek Wedding.

“What you mean he don’t eat no meat?” you said with a giggle. Beau’s lips moved to your forehead, and you felt the shape of his smile.

“It’s okay, I make lamb,” you both said together.

He chuckled and held you a bit tighter, secure and comforting. “All right. Lamb it is…you think they got cake on the menu?”

When you laughed, it was muffled by his sweater.

After a hot shower, good food, and three episodes of Is It Cake later, you were falling asleep on your corner of the couch.

All through dinner, Beau had listened to you vent about your day. About the problems your coworkers had hoisted on you to solve in the midst of a massive project you were already tackling. How your boss then blamed you for not coming to her first before you overloaded yourself, and how you’d very seriously contemplated going to HR before you figured just dealing with it would cause you less grief in the end.

Your boyfriend listened and gave his two cents, both supportive and fair. That was another thing you liked about him; he was always fair.

Now, he roused you out of your drowsy state when his arms wrapped around your frame and lifted you up.

You whined in protest. “Whaaat? Don’t move me.”

“Nope, you’re goin’ to bed,” he said, in his sheriff’s voice that boded no argument. You grumbled, but you still snuggled closer to his chest and pressed your sleepy face into his neck.

Smirking, he walked you into the bedroom and laid you down on your side of the bed. He came to your place often enough that he now had his own side, complete with his own nightstand and a couple of drawers of your dresser, even a bit of closet space.

You really should’ve just told him to move the hell in already, but you weren’t like Beau. He was a man of action. He processed things quickly and made decisions just as fast. His job demanded him to be that way.

You tended to drag your feet. You also tended to worry, and weigh pros and cons, and you were cautious by nature. Even dating this man had been a slow process, for which he’d been very patient with you. (And you with him, especially in the beginning as he learned to open up to you.)

The evidence was plain to see, as he raised the blankets and helped you roll underneath them. You just took him by surprise when you grabbed the front of his sweater and pulled him down with you.

“Hey!” he laughed. He had to brace himself against the mattress before he crushed you. His knees fell on either side of your hips while your arms twined around his neck.

“You’re a wily one, even half-asleep,” he remarked. You smiled and threaded your fingers through his soft brown hair.

“Like a rattlesnake in the tall grass,” you teased. In fairness, the two of you had gotten into watching David Attenborough's nature documentaries.

Beau’s brows raised, his smile deepening.  

“Oh yeah? Better not mess around then,” he chuckled. “I might just get bit.”  

You snorted. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You leaned up until your lips were nearly brushing his. Beau’s eyes lowered to your face, taking in all the things that felt more like home than his little trailer near the woods.

Just before you would’ve closed the small breadth of distance, you veered away from his mouth and went for his neck instead. He even flinched at the tease of your teeth playfully biting him.

"You little vixen!" He laughed deeply as he unwound your arms from his neck. He pinned you down to the bed and pressed his hips down into yours over the sheets. But it was his claiming lips that stopped you from fighting back.

Your shoulders trembled with giggles that he swallowed up, kiss after kiss. Your eyes closed as he dragged the sheets down away from your body. His hands caressed you through your thin tank top, brushing over a hardened nipple with the back of his hand, then squeezing your breast through the fabric.

You sighed into his mouth. “I know I kind of started this, but I’m really tired, baby…”

“Who says you gotta do anything?” rumbled his rich voice.

A tremor of heat ran through you. Even with your eyes closed, your exhausted body responded to his touch. His lips drew a hot, wet path down your neck, all while his hands did sinfully good things, sliding under your tank top and gliding against your skin. You let him take it all the way off, followed by your pajama pants and cotton panties, though he paused to squeeze your ass in appreciation.

“Someone’s been doing squats,” he noted, grinning down at you.

“Nah, just an extra slice of that honey cake,” you retorted. Apparently, the Greeks liked honey on everything.

Beau’s head tilted. “Huh. Well, I do like me some cake.”

You laughed, then jolted with a yelp when he slapped a bare cheek.

But you couldn’t just lay idle when he started on his own clothes. You sat up and helped him raise the sweater up and over his shoulders, but he stopped you.

“I mean it. You just lie back and relax,” he said, giving you a charming grin. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes; he was just too damn good to you.

While he finished taking off the sweater, your hands drifted down to the waistband of his pants. You caressed the hardening length of him, earning a hiss and a groan from him.

“Can’t I just…” you tried.

With difficulty, Beau grabbed your wrist. He raised a brow at you and guided you back down.

“For once, I’m ‘a need you to listen to me,” he said, kissing your cheek and then the other side of your neck.

You breathed a laugh, but it caught on a moan as his fingers brushed through your wet folds. He made a sound of approval. And those nimble fingers gathered some of your wetness and began circling slowly over your clit.

You sucked in a breath and arched against him. You even whimpered a little as his free hand wound through your hair, giving him further access to your neck. He hummed against your skin and grazed his teeth under your ear.

“I gotcha, baby. Whenever you need it,” he said, low and steady. You gripped his arms for dear life as two of his fingers slipped deep inside you. You panted into his neck, rocked your hips mostly in time with his fingers as they twisted and pulsed around your tightening walls. His thumb rubbed against your throbbing clit.

“Please,” you whispered into his neck, squeezing your eyes shut. “Want you inside me.”

“We’re gettin’ there,” Beau nodded. He was breathing harder too, just from anticipation. The sounds you were making, the way you were squeezing his hand from the inside had him painfully hard.

“Now,” you insisted. Your hands moved to grip his hair, and your lips met his in a devouring kiss.

Beau matched your passion with closed eyes and furrowed brows. He’d had a plan for you at the start of this, but what kind of man would he be if he didn’t abide by your wishes?

So he withdrew his fingers from your slick pussy, even though you uttered a shuddering breath. It took everything you had within you to remain still and resting against the pillows as you caught your breath. You wanted to wrestle down his sweatpants yourself and show your boyfriend how appreciative you could be.

But you also appreciated what he was trying to do. You watched him with tired, but still hungry eyes as he kicked off the pants and the boxer briefs and returned to you, bracing a forearm above your head after he spread your legs and raised up your knees.

He lowered himself between the warm cradle of your thighs and kissed down your chest, licked between the valley of your breasts.

You arched up again when his tongue found your nipple, swirling around it, and finally taking it between his teeth. His hips rolled against yours, making his cock press against your core teasingly.

“Beau, for the love of God,” you moaned.

He chuckled. “Maybe you oughta learn how to be patient.”

You grabbed his bearded face between both hands and raised him up to you. He noted your challenging brow, but also your smile.

“Maybe you shouldn’t tease the rattlesnake,” you replied.

Beau laughed and ducked his forehead against yours. “Okay, darlin’. I’m sorry.”

He nosed at your cheek, angling for a kiss. You tipped your head back and welcomed his lips, especially when his tongue slipped past to tangle with yours. His forearm was braced above your head, but his free hand left your hip to line himself up to your entrance.

Another shudder went through your body as he finally slid home inside you. The shape and feeling of his cock was familiar as it stretched your inner walls, and you caught his moan in your mouth.

Your legs wrapped around his hips and squeezed, forcing him in deeper. His eyes screwed shut as he lost focus for a moment. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of the feeling of you, or the sound of your voice, or the way you trusted him, but still tried to give as much as you took.

He pulled out nearly all the way, slowly sliding back in so you’d feel every inch. You clenched on him as a tremble ran through your body.

You uttered a broken gasp of his name that spearheaded goosebumps across his skin. And his next movements were faster, though just as deep.

He followed the encouragements of your voice, especially when he shifted his hips at an angle he knew would make you writhe. His fingers stroking your already sensitive clit, in time with his last wild thrusts, had you threatening to rip out a chunk of his hair. Instead, you gasped in his ear and dug your fingers into his hips.

His own release followed yours shortly after; he could only resist you squeezing the life out of him from the inside out for so long. And you held him afterwards, even though he still had a trembling arm braced above you.

Your hands smoothed up and down his back, trailing lightly with your nails. His breath was hot, but not uncomfortable against your neck.

You felt absolutely boneless as your legs slid from his hips. He pulled out of you soon after, but your embrace kept him from moving very far. He rested on his side, and you turned towards him. You both knew you’d have to deal with the sheets and the cleanup, but not just yet.

You carded your fingers more soothingly through his hair and drew his face back to yours.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you whispered. And you didn’t just mean in this bed. “I haven’t had that in a long time.”

Beau’s smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “You don’t gotta thank me for that.”

“Yeah, I do,” you nodded. Your lips formed a tired smile before they pressed softly to his. “I love you.”

Beau took a moment to brush a sweaty strand of hair away from your face. He’d believed in second chances before he met you…just not for himself. Meeting you made him swear by them.

“Love you too,” he said.

And the warmth of that bone-deep knowledge was more satisfying than even the heftiest slice of cake.

AN: God, I love Beau. I miss Big Sky. 😭 But feel free to let me know what you think of this one! It's only my second time, but I really do love writing this guy. ❤️

And tell me...are you team cake 🍰 or team pie 🥧?

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[twentyjere]

OK IMAGINE IMAGINE:

Eddie moves to LA with Chris and ends up at the 118. He mentions to Hen or Chim that he’s kinda missing Texas a bit. So, they decide to surprise him with a trip to Texas Roadhouse (for those of u who have no idea what Texas Roadhouse is, it’s a steak restaurant themed kinda redneck and country and it’s amazing. The servers used to line dance in the aisles between tables with cowboy hats) Basically they go out and Eddie’s like “this is fucking ridiculous , not at all what Texas is like but damn these rolls are good” they get sat and then their server comes to take their drink order. THE SERVER IS BUCK. I’m his cowboy hat, wranglers, and way too tight T-Shirt, Eddie is ENAMORED. Like has no idea what to do this guys so hot. THEN THEY LINE DANCE (preferably the watermelon crawl or smth kinda suggestive) and Eddie looses it more cause damn can Buck dance. Buck clearly flirts with him, and yes Eddie leaves a hefty tip and Buck leaves his phone number. The whole dinner Hen and Chim are so making fun of him being all nervous and stuff. Then, after his shift buck checks his phone to see a text, “hey cowboy” idk but I love it

[nyoomfruits]

ROMANCE AUS #7

Sorry for shouting. Please and thank you.

7. made out while in costume at a halloween party (lando's outfit for reference)

“This is ridiculous,” Lando hisses, uncomfortably pulling at the pink ruffly collar around his neck as he makes his way into the kitchen. It’s already fairly packed, mostly because Lando had tried to stall actually arriving at this party for as long as possible. “I look like a fucking idiot.”

“I think you look….” Alex appraises him, looking at Lando’s ‘sexy Princess Peach’ costume with a shit eating grin. “Well. Like a princess.” Lando glares at him and makes his way over to where the booze is set up, pouring himself a hefty shot of tequila and knocking it back immediately with a wince.  

“Really putting the peach in Princess Peach with those hotpants,” George agrees, entering the kitchen and patting Lando on the shoulder as he passes him on the way to the fridge. He’s dressed as some kind of Greek god, and Lando’s 99% sure he only picked it because it was an excuse not to wear a shirt.

“I hate both of you and I’m unfriending you on Facebook the second, I get home,” Lando grumbles, adjusting the stupid tiara on his head and pouring another shot of tequila.

Alex laughs. “A bet’s a bet, mate. And you lost.”

“Yeah, my fucking dignity,” Lando says, pulling at the back of the hot pants in the hopes it will at least cover some of his ass. He’s never making another bet with George and Alex again. “Anyway, at least I am wearing something original instead of, what,” he gestures at Alex’s outfit. “A cowboy?”

“Ken!” Alex says, completely unbothered, doing a little spin.

Lando snorts, rolls his eyes. “Right. And who’s your Barbie, then?”

Charles chooses that exact moment to swan into the kitchen in a bright pink cowboy suit complete with sparkly cowboy hat and white cowboy boots. “Lads! Are you ready to get wasted?!”

“Of course,” Lando says. “Why did I even ask?” And knocks back another shot of tequila.

--

It gets better, after a while. He’s starting to get considerably more drunk which makes him feel considerably more comfortable about looking like a very scarcely clad Princess Peach, and he’s starting to have actual fun.

So of course, that’s the exact moment George decides to ruin everything again. “Lads,” he says. “I have fantastic news. I have spotted… A Mario.”

Alex and Charles holler like George had just told them they’d won a million bucks each. Lando frowns. “So?” He asks, regretting it immediately when he’s suddenly faced with three absolutely shit eating grins. “Oh, fuck no,” he says, suddenly realizing what they’re hinting at. “Absolutely not.”

“Come on, Lando, you have to,” Charles says, putting on his big stupid pleading puppy dog eyes. Lando hates him. “It’s Mario,” he adds, like that somehow explains everything.

“Yeah, what is Mario without his Peach,” Alex agrees, not even trying to hide the smirk on his face.

“I am not making out with some random dude dressed up as Mario just because you guys seem to think that people in matching costumes need to make out!” Lando exclaims. “Actually, by that logic, why aren’t you two making out,” Lando says, gesturing between Charles and Alex.

Alex shrugs. “We already did.”

“When you were trying to create, what was it? ‘The world’s funkiest cocktail’ in the kitchen,” Charles adds.

“I can attest. I watched them do it, it was hot,” George says, and takes an obnoxious sip of ‘the world’s funkiest cocktail’ through his straw. “This is very funky by the way.”

“Thank you,” Lando says primly. “Still not making out with Mario.”

Alex gets a very dangerous mischievous gleam in his eyes. “I dare you,” he says, and George and Charles simultaneously let out a gasp that would’ve been very funny if Alex hadn’t just doomed Lando’s entire night.

“Oh fuck you,” he says, glaring, before knocking back the last of his own glass of ‘the world’s funkiest cocktail’ and slamming his cup down onto the bar. “All right, where is that fucker.”

“That’s no way to talk about your future husband.”

“Can it, George.”

Alex snorts. “He’s on the couch in the living room.”

“All right,” Lando says, shaking out his limbs like he’s going to run a fucking Marathon instead of make out with a guy that might not even want to make out with him. “Here goes nothing,” he says, before making his way back into the living room.

It’s pretty packed, but he finds the couch easily, ducking behind two girls dressed like Wednesday and Enid before coming to a standstill in front of the guy dressed as Mario. He even has one of those stupid stick on moustaches, though he’s ditched the gloves, the pair lying abandoned on the arm rest next to him.

Other than that he’s. Kind of cute. In a sort of boyish way. He has something weirdly familiar, though Lando can’t quite place it. “Hi,” he says, trying to stand in a way that accentuates his. Something. It must work regardless because the guy’s eyes snap to Lando and then widen ever so slightly, the light flush he had on his cheeks – probably from the heat – darkening considerably.

“Lando,” he blurts out, and Lando falters a little because huh. So he does know this guy. That’s a little. It’s probably not a great start to trying to woo him, not remembering who he is. The guy must notice Lando’s confusion because he adds. “Oscar? You’re in my econ 101 lecture.” His eyes dart away and then back again, lingering for a moment on Lando’s thighs, that are very prominently on display.

“Right!” Lando says, though he doesn’t specifically remember Oscar. “Monday 8am. My favorite class.”

Oscar laughs, a loud, sharp thing that sort of seems to startle out of him, folding his body ever so slightly forward as he does so. “Yeah, that one,” he says, and he seems a little tense now, his shoulder dropping ever so slightly.

“Where’s Luigi?” Lando asks, changing the topic before he has to reveal he still doesn’t technically remember Oscar, nudging Oscar’s cap with his hand, watching Oscar’s eyes widen when Lando leans in a little closer.

“Oh, uh. Fucked off,” Oscar says, blushing slightly. “He uh. There was this girl, so.”

“Ah,” Lando says, nodding. “Daisy.”

Oscar’s brows knit together in a decidedly cute way. “Daisy?”

“Yeah,” Lando says. “You know. Daisy, Luigi.” He gestures between them then, “Mario. Peach.”

“Right,” Oscar says, blushing impossibly more. “Right, yeah. Mario and Peach.”

“Exactly!” Lando says, and then, because he’s getting signals, and because Oscar has been trying very had not to stare at Lando’s. Everything. For the past five minutes, he sits down. In Oscar’s lap. “Peach and Mario,” he says, as Oscar flails a little and seems to have some kind of internal panic about where to put his hands.

Lando solves it by grabbing them and putting them on the flimsy little waist of his body suit. Oscar lets out a slow shuddering breath as he glances up at Lando with wide eyes, but leaves his hands on Lando’s waist, as Lando readjust himself, puts a knee on either side of Oscar’s thighs. “As I was saying,” he says. “Mario and Peach.” And then he takes Oscar’s face in his hands, takes off the stupid moustache, and kisses him full on the mouth.

Oscar makes a tiny little noise in surprise, fumbling a little as their teeth clack together, but then suddenly something in him seems to snap, and he kisses back. His hands are suddenly everywhere, from Lando’s waist to his back to his ass, squeezing down in a way that makes Lando moan into his mouth, an opportunity which Oscar uses to slide his tongue into Lando’s mouth, kissing him like a man starved.

Lando lets his hands slide from the sides of Oscar’s face into his hair, knocking the Mario hat off and tugging ever so slightly, eliciting a delicious little moaning noise from Oscar that he swallows eagerly. It goes on like that for a bit, each of them giving as good as they get, when Lando finally pulls away, breathing a little heavily.

Oscar looks equally debauched, breathing heavily, eyes wide and hair messy. He looks… He looks fucking hot, and Lando vows to pay more attention in econ 101, next time.

“Mamma Mia,” Oscar breathes out, in a terrible Itatlian accent, and there’s a little twitch to the corner of his mouth, even though his words are incredibly deadpan, and it startles a laugh out of Lando. Hot and funny. Yeah, Lando’s definitely going to start paying more attention.

But for now, he presses his lips back to Oscar’s, and sends a small little thank you to that bet he lost. Maybe he should start losing them more often, if it gets him this.

[stevethehairington]

omg so i just watched the crossover ep bc i just wanted some more sweet sweet buck eddie hen and. so. ik lonestar is set in austin and ik that's like. 9 hours from el paso. BUT LIKE yknow SURELY eddie's been to austin a few times so like. im just thinking. im just thinking that once they finish the job in the crossover episode they aren't due back to la immediately so buck begs eddie to like show him around texas bc like this is Eddie's Realm, this is where he grew up (the state, not the city but close enough lol). BUT ANYWAY im just thinking about the two of them getting some good ol texas bbq, and buck asked for it, yknow for the Full Texas Experience, but he may or may not be regretting it bc eddie is sitting across from him, and he's got a smudge of bbq sauce above his lip that buck is i t c h i n g to wipe away, and then eddie decides to start l i c k i n g his fingers clean instead of using a napkin like a sane person. and buck is just. losing his mind a little (read: a lot). then later, they're like walking around town or whatever and they find a little souvenir shop and they pop in (maybe eddie says he wants to get chris a little something — or maybe BUCK say that) and then eddie finds a cowboy hat, and he puts it on and buck, well, buck almost swallows his tongue because like, jesus, even the WAY eddie puts it on is hot what the hell. but then eddie traces the rim of the hat with his finger and tips it down and winks at buck as he says "howdy pardner" in a ridiculous over the top twanging accent and buck reallllllllllly is gonna lose it. (and if buck ends up buying the hat — "for christopher, but, yknow, you're welcome to wear it until we can give it to him" — then well.) THEN LATER they go to this bar, and they're having a good time and it turns out this bar does line dancing and they start it up and eddie's like omg and bucks like do you know how to do it? and eddies like i mean. i do. and bucks like get in there!!! and he sticks the cowboy hat onto edides head and pushes him into the group and he's having fun watching eddie absolutely crush it at line dancing (and hot damn he looks so so g o o d, so in his element) and then at one point eddie manages to snag bucks hand and pull him into it too and idk he like walks him through it as they go and it's just a lot of buck misstepping and eddie coaching him through it and fixing it and he starts to get the hang of it and it's actually so fun and he and eddie keep looking over at each other and grinning and it's like. the best night bucks ever had.

[cometcon]

I uh... I did it again. XD My brain has been going brrrr over this fucking GORGEOUS artwork by @zunkome2 on Xitter (click the view on Twitter button to see their art) and it inspired me to write fanfic of it. I love this art so fucking much!!!! I hope I can keep practicing and be as good as them one day. :D

So yeah, I could not stop thinking about this and I love that Blitz is canonically such a horse-girl, and I can totally see Striker realising and using that to his advantage in trying to draw Blitz in and hopefully get him on his side.

Anyway, my brain decided it was time to take like 5 hours of my day on and off making me try to write this to the best of my current ability. Enjoy. XD

---------------------------

Blitz was in Heaven.

An ironic descriptor, considering their actual location, but picking a better one would have been impossible right then; especially with a hellhorse nuzzling his chest ever so gently in search of another rawhide strip. Her mouth may have appeared vicious - and technically yes, that Lovecraftian maw was capable of crushing flesh and bone to mush in a single bite - but the non-business parts were also far softer to the touch than anyone less familiar with the creatures might expect.

"Sorry. I'm all out," he murmured regretfully, giving the beautiful beast a scratch on her forehead as she shoved her muzzle into his other hand. He had to take a small step backward however when she suddenly whipped her head up and to the side with a greeting whinny. Strange. What was that abou-

"Lot of others would've lost a limb for that." The unexpected voice made Blitz tense, tail shooting straight out behind him in surprise before curling tightly, an embarrassed flush rising to his cheeks. He peered around the hellhorse's neck, praying his mortification wouldn't be obvious to the cowboy now leaning against his mount's side. How the fuck had he arrived without him noticing? Striker plucked the wheat stalk from between his teeth and smirked. "She likes you."

Blitz coughed awkwardly and began backing away, mind and mouth both rapidly trying and failing to come up with a believable excuse for his actions. "I was just- uh… I was looking for… We had them at the circus, see, and I thought maybe- Strips are really good for their teeth, you kn- I mean of course you'd know that! I just-" Striker's eyebrows had been climbing steadily higher beneath the brim of his hat the longer Blitz waffled on, and in desperation he found himself resorting to a ridiculous escape route he hadn't used since he was nine years old. "Ah, I think I hear Luna calling me! Coming Loonie!" 

He skittered across the corral and clambered over the fence, cheeks burning hot as he cursed himself silently. Why had he turned into such a blathering idiot in front of the one person he'd actually hoped to impress this weekend? Blitz knew a ruthless killer when he met them and Striker was clearly I.M.P material. After a pathetic show like that though, there was no way he would want to-

The ground under his boots had begun to vibrate while he fumed, faintly at first, then increasing to a thundering roll. He instinctively darted to the side and kept walking, expecting whoever it was to just barrel past him at the reckless speed they seemed to be going. But his path was abruptly cut off by a fiery grey mass, Striker expertly bringing his mount from full canter to a standstill in a cloud of dust. He swung her around to stand side-on so he could look down at the choking imp, that shit-eating grin Blitz was quickly becoming familiar with exposing a gleaming gold fang to the sunlight.

"Pretty sure your hound went bean-pickin' with the rest an hour ago," Striker commented, leaning forward to rest an arm on the pommel, free hand tapping his thigh absentmindedly, "Since you got so much free time to burn, how 'bout you come help me check the fences? Got a few posts loose on the South end thanks to that pesky varg pack last night." The hellhorse shuffled under him, pawing at the dirt and snapping her jaws a little at the mention of vargs. "Bombproof wouldn't mind catching a few either, I bet. Maybe you'll get to see her on the hunt."

"Oh, uh…" Perhaps he hadn't completely blown his chances after all? Striker certainly wasn't behaving like he thought Blitz a dithering moron, literally chasing him down to offer another opportunity to spend more time together and bond with Bombproof. What an incredible name for a hellhorse… No, focus! He could salvage this. He just had to pull himself together and show what a great prospect his group would be compared to farm work in the boonies. Preferably without turning into a rambling mess this time. He forced a nonchalant shrug. "Sure, why not?"

Striker slipped his boot free of the stirrup, hand extending in clear invitation. Blitz's brain stuttered, immediately dropping every part of his own peptalk as it dawned on him what the other had actually meant.

"What, you plannin' on walkin' there? It's miles of Wrath terrain. C'mon Blitz, I don't bite," Striker drawled, head tilting as his eyes took on a knowing glint, "Unless you ask nicely."

Well that decided it. Blitz was reaching for the proffered hand before he could second-guess himself, so caught up in his whirling thoughts Striker had to correct which foot the distracted imp tried mounting with. Blitz didn't have long to stew in his humiliation at least, preoccupied by the ease of how he was hauled into the saddle, hands directed to grip the pommel while the taller demon reached around him to grasp the reins. Striker nudged his leg out of the way, retaking the stirrup and leaving Blitz to squeeze Bombproof's sides tightly with his thighs as she responded to her rider. A moment later they were galloping down the driveway, wind whipping past their faces and her powerful form surging below them.

Blitz was wrong. His time in the corral had been a beautiful experience, but still only comparable to Earth at best. 

Now he was in Heaven. 

And he never wanted to fall.

[greymoonfeelings]

flufftober day 1: wearing each other’s clothes

pairing: Jake Seresin x Fem!reader

word count: 1k

warnings: suggestive comment

scroll for a surprise!

•••

“Babe, where are the costumes for the party tonight?”

Jake saunters out of the steamy bathroom, a white towel tied around his waist. He finds you stretched out on your queen size bed, casually scrolling through your phone. It takes him by surprise, he thought you’d be getting ready.

“What are you talking about?” You shift your gaze to him, clueless as to what he was referring to.

“The Halloween party tonight?”

You shake your head, it doesn’t ring a bell. You’re sure you would have remembered needing costumes for a Halloween party and when you checked the calendar this morning there was nothing noted.

“Rooster’s been talking about it for weeks. It’s his first party at his new house. He said we all have to dress up or we owe him $40.”

“It looks like you better pull out your wallet.”

“It looks like you better pull out your wallet.”

“Damn, I swore I wrote it on the calendar.”

Jake leaves the room, heading into the kitchen to double-check. His forehead slumps against the wall when he sees the empty square on the calendar.

“Don’t you have spare cat ears or anything?” He hollers from the kitchen.

“Why would I have cat ears laying around?”

“I don’t know! You collect all sorts of weird stuff!”

“Unfortunately, cat ears aren’t one of them.”

Jake reappears, flopping onto the bed beside you with a loud groan.

“I really don’t want to be in debt to that man.”

You rack your brain trying to come up with a solution. A simple one comes to mind. “I have an idea, but I’m not sure you’re going to like it…”

An hour later you’re standing next to your boyfriend, putting the final touches on his look before stepping back to examine your work.

“I truly am an artist,” you beam, admiring the crisp winged eyeliner you’d drawn.

“Oh my god.” Jake looks in the mirror horrified. “I look like my sister.”

“Wait.” You scurry out of the bathroom to find the perfect item to complete his costume.

You return with a neon pink wig in your hands. You stand on your tiptoes, gently placing it over Jake’s short blond hair.

“Now you look like your sister.” You giggle at the grimace that flashes across Jake’s face.

“So you have a wig laying around but no cat ears?”

“Jess made us wear wigs for her bachelorette party.” You shrug. “Just be glad I didn’t pick the highlighter yellow one.”

“This is ridiculous.” Jake pulls at the black rayon top that stretches against his chest. On his hulking form it fits like a crop top and he looks like he just raided a teenage girl’s closet.

“I don’t know, I think it’s kinda hot.” You lick your lips, trailing a hand down your boyfriend’s toned abs.

His eyebrows furrow as he watches your reflection in the mirror. “Really? This is turning you on?”

“Minus the wig, you look like lava girl.”

“Well, what are you gonna wear?”

“Only the best of Jake Seresin attire. Denim on denim and your big ol’ cowboy hat.”

Jake trails behind you into the bedroom. You rifle through the closet to find his jean jacket and pluck his tan cowboy hat off the top shelf.

“See, now we both look silly.” You motion to the way the denim jacket hangs off your body.

Even though Jake was sour about his costume, he couldn’t help but smile at you. Seeing you in his things made his heart skip.

“You’ve never looked more beautiful, honey.” He pecks you on the lips, the bangs of his wig tickling your forehead.

“Maybe we should stay home instead.” Jake looks at you suggestively. “I could leave the crop top on.”

“As tempting as that sounds, we should go to the party. You did say it was really important to Rooster.”

Jake groans, annoyed with himself for commenting earlier.

“Cheer up, Princess.” You lovingly pinch Jake’s cheek, causing him to roll his eyes.

“You gonna make fun of me all night?”

“I think I’ll let your friends do that for me.”

You knew his friends well enough to know they’d get a kick out of seeing Jake all dolled up. He could be a real egotistical asshole, but seeing him like this would surely knock him down a few pegs.

———

Rooster opens the front door to his new house, whistling at the sight before him. Jake pushes into the house with a grumble, bumping against Rooster in the process. You walk in behind your boyfriend, rolling your eyes at his dramatics.

“What’s wrong with strawberry shortcake?”

“He’s embarrassed.”

You can hear the laughter coming from the other room, no doubt it was at the expense of Jake and his costume. Rooster gratefully takes the case of beer from your arms before leading you to the rest of the guests.

“Looking good Hangman!”

“Give us a twirl!” Fanboy insists and everyone cheers in favor.

Jake begrudgingly turns around, giving everyone a full view of his ridiculous costume.

“You’d look a lot prettier if you smiled more.” Phoenix antagonizes him further with the usual comments that women get.

“Oh, c’mon guys, he’s already in a bad mood, don’t make it worse.” You come to your boyfriend’s rescue with a drink in hand.

“Was this your idea?” Coyote asks. “It’s one of your better ones.”

“Well if someone had given me more than two hours notice, I may have been able to get us actual costumes.”

“I like strawberry shortcake and cowgirl barbie.”

“Agreed. You’re looking mighty fine in that cowboy hat, girl.”

“Thank you, partner.” You tip your borrowed hat in Phoenix’s direction.

“I don’t sound like that.” Jake grumbles.

“Sure you do, sugar.” You continue with the fake southern accent. “Now who thinks they can out-drink me, the greatest pilot the US Navy has ever seen?“

As the night progresses, Jake’s bad mood disappears and he fully leans into pretending to be you. He starts mimicking your personality and becomes the night's main entertainment, dancing on top of tables like a sorority girl and singing Mariah Carey at full volume. You’ve seen him let loose before when drunk but never to this degree. It’s nice to see him having so much fun even if you’ll be the one babying him tomorrow morning when his hangover hits.

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Cowboy | Mathew Barzal

you meet Mat at the Calgary Stampede wc: 1.5k ps. I wish this was better :(

There were many places you did not expect to visit for your two week trip to Calgary but a rodeo never even crossed your mind as a possibility. 

Growing up in the Bronx you always associated rodeo’s, horse races, farming, etc. to the south. You had of course heard of all these things in school and occasionally saw photos on the internet but it never occurred to you that you would ever personally experience things that you equated with the southern american lifestyle. 

Hence why you’re staring at your best friend like she has three heads even though she just announced the two of you were going to the Calgary Stampede instead. 

“What am I even supposed to wear to a rodeo?” you ask and she laughs at your expression making a ridiculous smile land on your lips. 

You never would have picked out this activity by yourself but honestly you were always down to try anything once. Besides, Callie promised for hot guys to be in attendance. 

“Cute but comfy,” she answers, heading over to her own closet to sift through her options. 

You hadn’t seen your best friend Callie in over a year and you had been planning this two week vacation at her home in Canada for ages now. You missed her dearly the entire time the two of you were apart and you were beyond glad to be with her now. 

As she looks through her clothes, you head over to your suitcase and begin to yank things out of your bag. You decide on a pair of light wash cut off jean shorts, a cropped graphic tee with tennis rackets crossed on the front and your favorite necklace. 

“Should I wear gross shoes?” you ask, turning to face your friend as you fasten your necklace. 

“Nah, you can borrow my cowboy boots.” 

“Your what?” 

You and Callie get dropped off by the uber a block away from the stadium and the unusually hot Calgary sun beats down on your back as you walk. The street is crowded, cowboy boots clack against the sidewalk and the smell of fried food and hay greet your nose. 

“Why are we here again?” you ask, trying so hard not to complain but you were seriously beginning to question how your best friend decided to attend this event. 

“Because of this,” she says, holding a finger up to you and you tilt your head in confusion but watch her next movement regardless. 

She strides forward, bumping into the man ahead of her and he turns with a concerned look on his face. 

“I’m so sorry!” she exclaims and you snicker upon realizing what she’s actually doing. 

“No need to be sorry darling, the fault is all mine,” the handsome man replies to your friend, tipping his hat to her before catching back up to his group. 

“Oh I definitely get it now,” you say when Callie falls back into step with you. 

“Exactly.” 

The two of you finally get inside, the place swarming with people and you’re slightly overwhelmed by all of the activity happening around you.  You try to keep track of Callie as you walk through but when someone cuts in front of you and you’re told to wait as workers pass by, your best friend is nowhere in sight. 

You look around frantically, finding yourself backing up towards a wall in hopes you can grab your phone and call Callie but end up bumping into a wall of a human instead. 

‘Woah,” a deep voice says and you turn to meet a pair of soft brown eyes that makes your stomach swoop.

Mat had barely been paying attention  to anyone else as he made his way through the giant building. He was in part trying not to get lost and part interested in everything around him. That is until he spots a girl, wandering the crowd who looks lost and nervous. 

He instinctively heads her way, planning to see if she needs any help when her side meets his chest in an awkward movement. His hockey skills take over, his arm moving from the light hold around your waist to your arm. 

She had to be the most beautiful girl in the entire place, her stunning eyes and soft expression is all Mat can focus on as his heart speeds up faster than when he’s on a breakaway. 

The panic in your eyes must be palpable because the man takes your arm softly and pulls you out of the way of foot traffic. 

“You okay?” he asks and you start to look around praying you can somehow find Callie in the sea of people passing by. 

“Yeah I just lost my friend and I’ve never been here before,” you admit shyly. 

“I’ve never been here either,” the older boy admits and for the first time since bumping into him you finally take a real look at him. 

He’s easily the most attractive man you have ever seen and you’re shocked by his admission considering his dress. He’s clad in a black t-shirt, loose black jeans, white sneakers, and a black cowboy hat to top it all off. Your heart skips a beat when his eyes meet yours again and you can’t help the smile on your lips. 

“Did your friend drag you along as well?” you ask, your nerves fading as you continue to talk. 

“Half dragged and half intrigue on my part.” 

“Sounds just like me.” 

“So, your friend?” he asks and your mouth drops open in remembrance. 

You dig your phone out of your back pocket and dial Callie’s number, relief flooding your veins when she answers on the first ring. You exchange quick words and you swear it’s only seconds later when she finds you. 

“Oh thank god,” she says, pulling you into a hug. “You scared the shit out of me.” 

“And this is why I told you to make sure I'm still behind you.” 

She brushes you off with the wave of your hand and you roll your eyes. Callie takes this moment to notice the boy next to you and she raises her eyebrows at you expectantly. 

Mat had instinctively taken a step back since your friend had come to get you and he finds himself frowning at the idea that this might be the end of your interaction with each other. 

“Who is this?” 

“Oh! This is,” you start to say but fall flat when you look over at the boy again. “I never got your name.” 

“Mat,” he supplies and you nod. 

“He helped pull me out of the crowd when I lost you,” you tell Callie and she nods approvingly. 

“Ready to go? The first round is about to start,” she tells you and you nod. 

“Wait!” Mat calls when you start to walk away. “Where are you guys sitting?” 

You’re starting to think the universe has certain plans for you when Mat tells you that he and his friend are sitting in the row directly in front of you and Callie. The four of you head in the right direction, Mat’s friend falling into step with Callie and the two chat away happily about the Calgary Stampede. 

“So, where are you from?” Mat asks. 

“New York.” 

“Seriously?” he asks his mouth gaping open at you. 

“Bronx born and raised. I’m here visiting Callie for two weeks.” 

“Shit I live on Long Island.” 

“Small fucking world,” you respond grinning. 

When you get to your seats, Callie pulls you to the side and you look at her in confusion. 

“Would it be okay if I sat with Alex and you sit with Mat?” 

You grin ridiculously wide, knowing Callie and Alex have been hitting it off and she rolls her eyes at your expression. 

“Ooh someone has a crush,” you say, wiggling your finger at her and she shoves you away and heads to the seat next to Alex. 

“Hey stranger,” Mat grins when you sit down next to him and you can’t help the smile on your lips. 

You had known Mat for approximately thirty minutes and yet it has already felt like a lifetime. You both had an incredible amount in common and you had never felt so at ease with someone in your life. 

“So,” you begin and Mat turns to look at you. “Where’s the cowboy hat from?” 

“Alex,” he answers, gesturing to his friend in front of him. 

“Hmm,” you muse, your eyes running over the hat again. 

You reach up, lifting the hat from his head and slipping it onto your head. You push your hair to the front, fixing it so it looks good underneath the wide brim. When you look over at Mat again, there’s a sly smirk resting on his lips. His arm comes up to rest on the back of your chair and his touch sends shivers down your spine. 

“Looks good on you darling,” Mat drawls and your heart stops, skips, and speeds up all in a matter of seconds. 

“Hey (y/n),” Callie says but halts when she sees you. 

“Yeah?” you ask, confused at her and Alex’s matching expression. 

“You know what they say,” Alex says. 

“Save a horse, ride a cowboy.” 

[midnightfire830]

I’m sick today so imma share a few band AU idea blerps:

Black Hat got really controlling over the band especially over costuming, makeup, and maybe a few of their songs. He absolutely hated the members wearing ridiculous costumes and extravagant makeup.

So of course Cuphead doubles down. Cuphead and Bendy made a western album consisting of bendy playing acoustic guitar and Cuphead playing piano. (I put a couple songs I had in mind for that album tho its mostly based off of Poor Man’s Poison). And when they went to perform it live Cuphead asked Alice to make him the most over the top cowboy costume.

Stars, of course this just made me think of Ken and Barbie’s cowboy outfits from the movie.

Alice: So you want me to completely redesign your costume for the performance? *sighs* ok what do you want?

Cuphead: PINK.

Cup the night of the show walked out of the dressing room with this hot pink cowboy costume and full makeup. The rest of the band also wore accents of pink somewhere in their costumes but Cuphead went waaaaaaayyyyy overboard.

Cuphead: strikes a pose “So Hat! What do ya think?”

Black Hat: “I THINK I’m not being paid NEARLY enough for this…”

Of course the moment that Cup walked out the crowd went cussing WILD. Alice and Cala were standing off stage and watching cussing proud of what they did. That tour turned out to be one of their best selling performances. (I’m so half debating drawing this dear god….)

It’s safe to say that it definitely taught Hat to back the cuss off.

Yes I made a playlist for this au. I’ve made like cussing 3 at this point. Fight me.

Okie. Thanks for coming to my TEDtalk

✌️

[ava-valerie]

for the request thingy please 🖤

cowboy brock lesnar , spicy/smutty , and on a road trip but there is nowhere to sit so he offers you a spot on his lap maybe? save a horse, ride a cowboy. ;)

I was SO hoping that someone would pick this exact combination 😫💖💦 YES! YES TO ALL! You. Shall. Receive. 💖

** Headcanon **

NSFW below the cut (18+ readers only)

Brock's amused smirk grows wider the more irritated you get

The sheer sight of your raised eyebrows and the convulsed mouth gives him that little extra joy of the situation as he stops the vehicle next to you

You were expecting a car, or at least a bike, when suggesting the roadtrip

And not a fucking tractor

Now you get all riled up, wielding the arms

"What is THAT?!"

His chuckle is almost provocative as he answers

"As you can see, that's a tractor."

"No shit, Brock! Where am I going to sit?!"

You whine while looking up to the big man who casually sits on the only seat available

Looking ridiculously hot with that sleeveless vest and the stupid cowboy hat

The urge to either slap his face, OR make out with his face grows inside of you

Brock gives you a lopsided sneer and pats his thigh

"Climb up. It'll be comfy. Promised."

Why does every word sound like a mocking?

You grab the hand he offers and he easily pulls you up and on his lap

Your back resting against his upper body

"Sheesh. I hope my hair won't get tangled from the amazing speed of this tractor."

The complaint causes him to snort and he runs his fingers over the inside of your thigh, holding the steering wheel with the other hand

"You're such a crybaby. Let's see if I can turn this crying into... hm... whining..."

With that said, he slowly moves a digit over your clothed sex

Adding so much pressure you almost jump from the contact

Without a warning he removes the hand from the steering wheel and you have to grab it

"What are you doing?!"

"You got this, kid. Eyes on the road."

Both of his hands sneak under your shirt and bra, fingers teasing your sensitive nipples as you fight to keep the eyes open

The need for some friction gets unbearable and you slide up and down on his thigh

Feeling how he flexes the muscle

"Oh my... please!"

You whimper and he firmly pinches a nipple while sliding a hand in your pants and pushing a finger inside you

Groaning in your ear

"I love it when I can make you shut up and instead whining... Now enjoy the fuckin' road."

His talking makes you twitch and he keeps on fingering you

On a tractor