#you know shit's about to get serious when a cowboy takes off his cowboy hat

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

༉‧₊˚. 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞, 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲 || 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧

― pairings: daryl dixon x plus size!reader

― era: season 4/pre-Governor

― summary: while out on a run, you find a cowboy hat, and what was once light-hearted teasing had actually woken up something inside of you, because he just looked too damn good.

― warnings: daryl in a cowboy hat (duh), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), cumming inside, oral (d. receiving), blowjobs, come eating, riding, biting (mentioned literally once), marking, established relationship, kissing, praise, dirty talk (mostly daryl's dirty mouth 'cause yes).

― wc: 1841

⋆ a/n: uhhh it's the way this almost turned into a 2k one shot of just straight up porn?? like i shit you not i one hundred percent think i lost my self-control while writing this, but oh well, i enjoyed it and i hope you guys do too! thank you all for the mass influx of support over the last few days, it never fails to blow my mind every time. i love you all!

masterlist | AO3

You swear your intentions were pure at first; it was just you trying to shoot the shit with Daryl and a cowboy hat, but you hadn't expected him to look so… natural with it on.

Walking around the shopping mall you, Glenn, Daryl, and Maggie were scouring through, you had come across a plain black cowboy hat lying on the floor alone. It appeared to be relatively spotless besides a little dirt and dust on it. You bent over and picked it up, your hand patting away the grime as you examined it. You couldn't help the shit eating grin that split on your face, your eyes flaring mischievously as you made your way back to your poor unsuspecting boyfriend who was searching through the camping department. 

Sneaking up behind him, you quickly placed the hat on his head, eliciting a surprised grunt from the man in front of you. 

"There," You said with your hands placed on your hips. "Now you're a real cowboy." He turned around to look at you with a glare. "Ain' no cowboy." He grumbled, and your breath caught at the sight of him. Every witty comeback you had been curating in your mind had suddenly died in your throat along with your ability to speak. "Wha'?" Daryl asked at your sudden silence. You swallowed nervously, "You look great, real sexy." 

“Shuddup.” He scoffed, taking the hat off and placing it on your head so that it slightly obstructed your vision. He continued further into the department.  “I’m serious!” You called out with a laugh as you chased after him. 

“Wild west movies used to really get me going, you know!” 

He didn’t see you shove the thing into your bag, or the fact that you were biting back a smirk the whole ride back to the prison. 

You hadn’t forgotten about the way he looked in it, nor the fact that everytime you passed by your bag, the hat felt like it was going to burn a hole right through the floor. You were waiting for the perfect opportunity to bring up its potential use in the bedroom until one fell into your lap - more like his.

You were sitting on his lap as he had his back pressed against the prison wall, his lower half resting on the two mattresses the both of you had pushed together to make a makeshift double bed. His fingers dug into the skin of your hips, your hands tightly clasping his cheeks, holding his lips onto yours as you made out fervently. Your body was slightly raised above his when you remembered the cowboy hat. You pushed a finger in between your mouths as you separated with a smirk.

“Wait.” You breathed. “You okay?” He asked in concern, searching your face and eyes for any sight of discomfort. “I got something I wanna try, if that’s fine with you.” You nodded gently. “Wha’ is it?” Your smirk formed into a wide smile at his question.

He watched you with a mix of curiosity and anticipation as you leaned over and unzipped your backpack, his palms that rested on your hips continued to keep a firm grip on you as reached for what you were looking for. His eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets when they caught sight of the brim of that stupid cowboy hat.

“The hell?” He couldn’t help but say. It wasn’t full of disgust, but rather surprise. You laughed, “I may or may not have brought it back home with the intention of asking you to wear it while we have sex.” The sides of his lips quirk as he takes the hat from your hands. “I guess ya really were serious about wild wes’ movies gettin’ ya goin’.” But nonetheless, he puts it on, and you bite your lip. 

“Like I said, you’re the sexiest cowboy I’ve ever seen.”

He tilts his head up as your lips lock in an amorous embrace, and you grind your hips down on his hard-on. He groans against your lips, gripping and pressing your body down to receive maximum pressure from your cloth covered cunt. Your kisses trailed down his neck, nibbling on his scruff and unbuttoning his sleeveless shirt to push off of his shoulders, which he helped you do. Your greedy hands trailed through the patch of hair on his chest, following the hair down to where it disappeared into his jeans. You unbutton them, moving your butt down a little bit so that you could take him out of his underwear.

He hissed in pleasure as you pressed down on his leaky tip, rubbing his precum around before you bent forward, adjusting your body so that your ass was raised and arched, licking a stripe from the vein on the underside of his cock to the tip, twirling your tongue around it.

“Shit!” He let out a raspy whimper, burying his thick fingers gently gripping onto the roots of your hair. The pressure on your scalp was welcomed as you took him further down your throat, swallowing around him and fondling his balls with your free hand. Daryl desperately tried to keep himself quiet, seeing as though the walls of the prison weren’t thick, and anyone could hear him, and that was something that he didn’t think he would be able to live down.

He could feel himself nearing his climax with every suck of your devilish mouth, and he knew that you could feel him too. You peered up at him through your eyelashes, watching his shirtless chest rise and fall heavily, he looked dark as he practically gazed into your soul, the cowboy hat adding a shadow over his features that turned you on beyond comprehension. You pressed your thighs together to desperately relieve the growing tension between your legs, and when the fat of them put pressure against your clit, you whined, the noise shooting up your boyfriend’s spine.

“Fuck, sweetheart. ‘M gunna cum.” He warned, his back arching and hips chasing your warm mouth. You only pulled off to say, “Down my throat.” Your words were heavy and breathy, but you didn’t care, taking him back into your throat and stroking what you couldn’t swallow. He gulped, allowing his head to lean back on the concrete cell wall, biting on his bottom lip so hard in an attempt to stay silent that he could’ve sworn he tasted the metallic tang of blood.

“Yeah?” He asked with a breathless groan. “‘Wan’ me to paint that pretty little mouth of yours white?” You whined at his dirty words, and he felt your noises burn through his veins like fire. He didn’t hold back from occasionally bucking his hips, his thrusts growing sloppy before he pressed your head down, shooting his load deep down your esophagus. 

You swallowed his cum, which caused him to hiss due to oversensitivity. You pulled off of him, licking your lips before sticking your tongue out to show him that you hadn’t wasted a drop. 

“God damn, girl.” He grunted as you crawled your way up to his lips to place a deep kiss on his lips, allowing him to taste himself. “Are ya tryin’ta kill me?” He asked when you pulled away. You giggled, dragging playful fingers up and down his chest. “Maybe?” You said, biting your bottom lip with a smile.

He just scoffed, kissing you once more as you avoided knocking your head against the rim of his hat. “Let me ride you, cowboy.” You heaved.

He nodded, allowing you to stand and take your clothes off as he rid himself of his pants and underwear. 

You clambered back on top of him, allowing your soaked slit to gently caress his hard cock.

“Fuck.” He cursed, the grip on your hips turning bruising due to your teasing. You mewled at the feeling of his heated skin brushing your sensitive clit, your self control slipping as you reached down and lined his cock up to your entrance, slowly sinking down due to the lack of foreplay and prep. The initial stretch of his tip hurt, your nails digging into the skin of his tanned shoulders, a silent cry leaving your lips as your head fell back. 

Daryl gave you a moment to adjust to his size, distracting you with his calloused thumb, which rubbed comforting circles onto your tiny bundle of nerves. Your muscles loosened as you moved, slightly bouncing until you found a rhythm where your ass met his thighs. He aided you in your riding, guiding your body up and down.

“So fuckin’ wet.” He grunted, rolling both of his lips between his lips as he watched where your bodies joined together, as though he was in a trance. “‘S all for you, D.” You slurred. His cock repeatedly brushed against that sensitive spot inside of your body. He was already sensitive, which made him all the more determined to help you reach your peak first.

“Put yer hands on the wall.” He rasped. You placed your arms on either side of his head, your breasts pretty much shoved in his face when his hips rose up, fucking themselves into you harshly. You yelped in surprise, pressing your palms harder against the walls as he pounded into you from below. He raised his head, his eyes searching for yours from under the hat. 

His irises swam with lust and need, but also a hidden determination that only he knew about.

“‘Gunna make you cum real good, pretty girl.” He huffed a ragged breath. “Promise.” 

“Please, Dar. I need it!” You cried. 

He looked away from you, focusing on his thrusts which were unforgiving, bruising your cervix with every slam of his tip. Your arms grew shaky as you neared your end, almost causing you to fall forward if you hadn’t laid your head on the cool rock. 

“So close,” You breathed, “‘M so close, baby, please.” You begged. “I gotcha. ‘Gunna cum with ya, sweet cheeks.” Your body flushed with relief at his words. 

Your bodies worked together to help reach your climaxes, and when you did, you held back a loud moan, and Daryl hid his in between the valley of your breasts, which lightly bit into. There might be a mark there tomorrow, but who cares?

You shuddered through your world shattering orgasm and he worked you through it, lazily thrusting into you until you muttered the words, ‘no more.’

You slowly sat back down, wincing seeing as though his softening cock was still shallowly buried inside of you.

“Holy fucking shit.” You laughed deliriously. “If I knew ya would’a been all pent up like this over some hat I would’a worn it sooner. Maybe even take ya righ’ then and there in tha’ mall.”

You smirk in amusement at his daring words, “Is that so?” You asked with a mischievous smile. “Mhm.” He hummed with a grin, his hands descending to gently massage your outer thighs whilst you cupped his cheeks, both of you falling into a blissful, giggly kiss. 

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon

#♡ ― nsfmeau ! #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x plus size reader #plus size reader #x plus size reader #plus size!reader #chubby reader #x chubby reader #fanfiction #fluff #smut #cowboy daryl dixon #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon oneshot #daryl dixon drabble #daryl dixon blurb #daryl twd #twd daryl #daryl dixon twd #twd daryl dixon #daryl the walking dead #daryl dixon the walking dead #twd #the walking dead

[whatsnewalycat]

like a moth(man) to a flame(thrower)

pairing: frankie “catfish” morales x f!reader

summary: just a deeply self-indulgent meet cute with frankie at a halloween house party.

rating: t

words: 900+

warnings: drinking alcohol, party

notes: happy halloweeeeen!

—

In lieu of red solo cups, a long-standing tradition in house party lore, your cousin opted to get black solo cups. Which was a nice touch, you had to give it to her.

You picked one off the tall stack and wrote your name on it in metallic sharpie. As you ladled the crimson “fangria” into your cup, someone dressed as Richard Simmons bounced through the cramped kitchen behind you on their way to the basement.

Sound erupted from downstairs when they opened the door, a racket of inebriated conversation and Monster Mash by Bobby "Boris" Pickett & The Crypt Kickers, then dampened when they closed it.

A skunky odor hit you after a two-second delay. You turned to look at the door, taking a sip of the fruity wine concoction, and considered joining the livelier half of the party. The floorboards beneath your feet bumped from the bass, as if trying to convince you.

If you didn’t taken one more look around before submitting to its call, you might’ve missed him.

This guy, leaning against a dining room table with his arms of his bomber jacket crossed over his powder blue hoodie. Army green cargo pants, sunglasses, a flame thrower strapped to his back. Even the big, dumb cowboy hat thing. It caused you to burst out laughing, recognition tickling your fancy.

He did a double take, only a glance at first, probably just sourcing the noise. But his attention quickly returned, alongside a crooked smile, lingering on you for a few seconds before he turned back to his conversation with an eerily spot-on Jason Voorhees.

Your pulse skittered. There was something in the way he did this. Intent.

Only another moment went by before he parted ways with Jason and started towards you.

Acting casual, he grabbed a cup from the tower and wrote his name on it, asking you, “How’s it going?”

“MacReady.”

He raised his eyebrows in question, “What?”

You pointed to his getup, “The Thing, right?”

“Oh!” Understanding brightened his features. A big, charming smile spread across his face when he looked down at himself, nodding, “Yeah, MacReady from The Thing.”

“I love it,” you grinned.

“Thanks.”

Drifting a little closer, he studied your costume. Confusion creased his forehead. He tilted his head up slightly and tugged on your feather antennae, as if trying to pluck a clue from it.

“You are… a, uhhh—” he frowned and shook his head, “I don’t know, a scary moth?”

“Mothman.”

“Mothman?”

“Right, mothman.”

“Never heard of him,” he chuckled as he filled his cup. Taking a sip, he leaned back against the counter, even closer. His gaze felt hot on your cheeks. He said, “You look nice, though.”

“Thanks,” your eyes dropped to his cup and you read his name aloud, “Frankie.”

“You’re welcome.”

You licked your lips, then told him, “That’s one of my favorite movies. The Thing, I mean.”

“It’s a classic.”

“Ok, sorry—I need to talk about this costume more. You have a fucking flamethrower and everything. And the hat—” You giggled and gave the visor of the floppy hat a playful smack, “It is ridiculous.”

Drifting a little closer, he chuckled and held up the business end of the flamethrower, “You know how many people have asked me if this is real tonight?”

“How many?”

“None. And that’s a goddamn travesty.”

“Uh-huh,” you smirked, meeting his eyes through the sunglasses, “Well, is it real?”

He smiled and shrugged, “Maybe.”

“Maybe yes or maybe no?”

“Maybe yes.”

“Shut the fuck up, are you serious?”

He nodded.

“Can we light shit on fire? Oh my god, please? My cousin has a fire pit—”

“Whoa, slow down, Sparky. The tank is empty.”

You deflated, shaking your head as you murmured into your cup, “What a tease.”

Frankie laughed, “A tease, really?”

“You can’t tell a gal you’re sporting a real flamethrower then not set shit on fire with it.”

Shaking his head, he said, “Tell you what, give me your phone number, we can set up a time for me to show you how to use it.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Heat rose to your cheeks and you smiled, “Really?”

He dug into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, then handed it to you.

As you saved your contact information to his phone, you said, “I know this might just be a cute thing you’re saying to get my phone number, but I fully expect you to follow through.”

“You have my word.”

When you gave back his phone, his hand brushed up against yours, and something sparked inside you. He tucked the phone into his pocket. You felt him staring at you, and glanced down at his mouth as his tongue peaked out to wet his lips. For a moment, the two of you stood there quietly, letting static build between your bodies, pulling you closer.

The door to the basement swung open, filling the room with Thriller by Michael Jackson. A worse-for-wear Hollywood Hulk Hogan stumbled up the stairs into the kitchen and closed the door behind him.

He squinted between you and your new friend, swaying a little, then recognition kicked in and Hogan yelled, “FISH!”

“Jesus Christ, Benny,” he muttered in response, setting down his cup to start towards him, “You can barely stand.”

“I’m fffffine,” Benny swatted at his friend.

“Let’s get you home.”

He let out a dramatic groan, but accepted Frankie‘s arm slung around his back.

Frankie looked at you, eyebrows knit together, apologies written all over his face, and asked, “Can I call you tomorrow?”

“Absolutely.”

You both lingered there for a moment, despite the dead weight hanging off one side of him, then he said, “It was nice meeting you.”

His voice was low and sultry. It heated you from the inside.

“You too,” you grinned wide and nodded, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

He returned the smile, then glanced over at his friend, “Alright, drunk ass, let’s go.”

#frankie morales #francisco catfish morales #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier #meet cute #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic

[mangekyuou]

Hi there~

I just finished reading your rules and you're a UNI STUDENT? Lmao me too, I'm majoring in English literature 🙃 yeah i know it's an old-man choice 😭 but at least I enjoy it~

So can i request a NSFW alphabet for my boy Benn?

I don't see a lot of content for him and he's sooo sooooo handsomeee and attractive.

I hope you have a nice day~

⟡    ֺ   𓂂  nsfw alphabet  ,  benn beckman.

✸     cw(s)! . . .  nsfw. gn!reader. me being a beckman stan. not proofread. minors DNI.

✸     notes! . . .  hi !! that's so cool you're majoring in english literature !! i was always interested in literature, but i could just never sit down and read or try to analyze anything. it was never my strong suit lol. so kudos to you !! thank you for requesting !! <33

!! i would also like to say that i don't really do nsfw alphabets, but i have made an exception for this one and the other one in my drafts bcuz i didn't state it earlier. PLUS i'm a beckman and shanks stan lmaooo

A — AFTERCARE. [ what they’re like after sex. ]

aftercare is truly his favorite part. he takes his time carefully getting you all cleaned up and comfortable. benn is definitely a cuddlebug :>. he loves cuddling with you after sex. there's nothing better than laying down next to you, wrapping his strong arms around you, pulling you into his chest, kissing your head, and falling into the world of dreams.

B — BODY PART. [ their favorite body part of theirs and their partner’s. ]

he hasn't thought much about himself. he doesn't even really have an answer at first. but he thinks his arms are nice. all the more strength to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

benn loves ALL of you. don't ask him to pick a favorite part of you. he refuses to give you one answer, no matter how much you beg him. unless you start to pout, his ultimate weakness. he loves your thighs. he's a thigh and ass guy. nine times out of ten, you know he's in the mood just by how long he's touching your thighs

C — CUM. [ anything to do with cum. ]

he loves filling you to the brim with his cum, watching it slowly leak out of you only to use his thick fingers or his dick to stuff it back inside. all with a "be a good baby and hold it for me, yeah?"

D — DIRTY SECRET. [ self-explanatory. ]

nothing runs through his mind like you in a maid outfit since you wore one as punishment for losing a card game. the red-haired pirates are so damn cruel. the image has never left his head, and along with it came his dirty thoughts

the thought of you bending over to better reach a spot to dust, the short skirt of your tight uniform riding up to show off your ass. the thought of your purposely spilling something on him to get him out of his clothes. the thought of you on your knees in front of him, eagerly awaiting his next command, asking him how you may be of assistance. fuck he needs you in a maid outfit so bad

E — EXPERIENCE. [ how experience are they? do they know what they’re doing? ]

benn has been around the block many of times. he has plenty of experience. i wouldn't call him a hoe...but he's had quite a few lovers in the past. mostly one night stands. he knows what he's doing and how to pleasure you

F — FAVORITE POSITION. [ self-explanatory. ]

he's a pretty classic man. he loves the cowgirl(boy) position. there's nothing that makes him cum harder than you riding him to your heart's content. oh and please do wear a cowboy hat, treat him like cattle, call him a few names, he's putty in your hands. when he comes, put your hat over his pretty face

G — GOOFY. [ are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? ]

benn is very talkative in the bedroom. he's always talking, whether it's praising you or his favorite teasing you. hell, there are even some moments where he's so unserious. telling you about some stupid shit that happened on the red force that day, while kissing down your chest. or when he's settled deep inside of you, not moving, and will stop to have a full-on conversation. like what are you doing ??

H — HAIR. [ how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? ]

it's wild and grey. his pubes are a little wavy. he doesn't particularly care much about shaving. now if you ask him to trim up a little, he will definitely do so and will make it a habit

I — INTIMACY. [ how are they in the moment, the romantic aspect? ]

benn is a very romantic man. there is not a single time when he doesn't make you seem like the luckiest person in the world. he puts his ALL into loving and cherishing you. he takes his time with you. worshipping your body from head to toe, not missing an inch. bringing you to your high again and again, singing praises to you, how well you're doing, how much he loves you

J — JACK OFF. [ masturbation headcanon. ]

benn doesn't jack off as much as he did when he was younger. the times when he is in the mood, you are usually not too far and more than happy to help. however for the few times, you aren't around, he's sitting slouched in a chair in your shared room, his hair all over his face, he was anything but his usual calm and collected self. shallow breaths and low whispers of your name leave his lips, as he desperately tries to reach his high, imagining his hand as yours

K — KINK. [ one or more of their kinks. ]

he definitely has a praise kink. even before the two of you got together, you likely picked up on his praise kink. he loves the effect it has on you. role play, he's a freaky old man. as i said earlier, he loves the thought of you in a maid outfit, this definitely extends to other things. sexy secretary, sexy nurse, you name it. HE'S WAY INTO HIS ROLE. especially if you're taking a dominant role ?? WHEW

L — LOCATION. [ favorite places to do it. ]

he's not all that into public sex. does not want anyone else to see you, other than that one time. he prefers to keep your sexy times in the bedroom. nothing beats your bed

M — MOTIVATION. [ what turns them on, gets them going? ]

it doesn't take much to get him going. you could just wrap your arms around his waist from behind, and kiss up his shoulder, and he's all yours for the evening. or when you smack his ass and run down the hall. he swears he hates it, but who is he kidding? when he does catch up to you, you're in for it

N — NO. [ something they wouldn’t do, turn offs. ]

anything that could possibly hurt you. nope. never. nada. zilch. he can't do it. he couldn't do humiliation either. anything that is not making you feel amazing and beautiful, he's not doing

O — ORAL. [ preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc. ]

definitely a giver and is the fucking best at it. he prides himself on his ability to make you cum multiple times with his mouth alone. he could spend hours between your legs if you'd let him. hooking his strong arms around your legs, you're not going anywhere until he's had his fill. but you'll be a good baby and take it, won't you?

running your hands through his grey locks only encourages him further. your moans and breaths are a melody he'd never get tired of hearing

he does love seeing your pretty mouth wrapped around his cock. he loves when you take your time, licking up a stride up his shaft, the tip of your tongue circling the blushing red head of his tip, before slowly taking him into your mouth. eye contact the entire time !! he loves that shit

P — PACE. [ are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc. ]

benn is definitely more on the slow and sensual side. he wants you to feel him, every inch of him enter you as he fills you to the brim every time he thrusts into you. and he wants to feel all of you, as he closes his eyes and stuffs his face into your shoulder, alternating between leaving open-mouth kisses and love bites

Q — QUICKIE. [ their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc. ]

he's not a quickie guy. maybe when he was younger but quickies don't satisfy him anymore. it doesn't give him the chance to fuck you properly

R — RISK. [ are they game to experiment, do they take the risks, etc. ]

he'll experiment for you. he'll willing to try some things at least once if you'd like to try them. however, it's not likely to suggest something. he knows what he likes and what he doesn't, he's not sure that's really going to change at this point

S — STAMINA. [ how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last? ]

benn can go for a few rounds, which are not usually his plan. he usually plans for one long round. but the cuddle session after the first round a lot of the time turns into another around. he's not complaining though. give him a little smoke break and he's back at it

T — TOY. [ do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves? ]

he doesn't have a problem with toys, he just doesn't really use them. he prefers using his own equipment if you catch my drift. but he definitely doesn't mind using them on you if you asked

U — UNFAIR. [ how much they like to tease? ]

now he doesn't see it as teasing. but it's definitely teasing. his teasing is very playful. the way he just walks up to you at the poker table and whispers what he's going to do to you tonight if you win...and he expects you to sit there and be calm. you better win.

or when you sit in his lap and his large calloused hands caress your thighs, inching closer and closer to your core. he notices the way you take in a sharp breath, only to stop touching you altogether. he knows exactly what he's doing and what effect he has on you

V — VOLUME. [ how loud they are, what sounds they make. ]

benn is not quiet by any means. he's very talkative in the bedroom. always teasing you or giving you praise. he is an occasional groaner. groaning your name and swears into your ear

W — WILD CARD. [ random headcanon. ]

shanks has definitely watched you and benn fuck before. it was one time and it'll never happen again. now the captain of the red haired pirates did nothing wrong, at first. the next day, roo had asked shanks where he disappeared off to and he made a joke saying "watching the taming of a stubborn bull", earning a laugh from you. he is no longer allowed to watch

X — X-RAY. [ what’s going on under those clothes. ]

listen to me and listen to me well. definitely a shower, not a grower. 7-8 inches, slightly curved to the right and upwards. uncut. above average girth. a few veins, but there's one very prominent long vein that stretches from the underside of his dick all the way around to the top. slightly darker than the rest of his body BUT there are lighter patches of skin on and around his tip

Y — YEARNING. [ how high is their sex drive? ]

don't really see his drive being that high. definitely lower than average. but hey, he's not gonna say no to some sweet lovemaking.

Z — ZZZ. [ how quickly they fall asleep afterwards? ]

aftercare is literally his favorite part, so you bet it's going to be a while before he actually falls asleep. he has to get you all cleaned up and comfortable. finally, he pulls you in for cuddles. he waits until you're asleep before falling asleep himself

© MANGEKYUOU  —  do not copy, repost, or translate my works.

#speed run challenge on how long this stays up with no problems.... #skip over the x-ray section #i don't know what demon wrote that... #but it was NOT me #one piece #benn beckman #beckman #benn beckman x reader #beckman x reader #one piece x reader #one piece oneshots #one piece scenarios #one piece imagines #one piece headcanons #one piece smut #benn beckman smut #beckman smut #☆ — MY LOVE MINE ALL MINE.

[deangirlsstuff67]

Luck of the Irish

Beau Arlen x Reader

Authors note: Happy St. Patrick's Day everyone! Just a little Beau fluff before some smutty goodness. This man would be so much fun to have arrest me. Hope you enjoy your day and be safe ♡

Masterlist | Patreon

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St. Patrick's Day. It's almost as bad as Halloween for anyone in law enforcement. The one day a year everyone believes their Irish, and everyone gets drunk disorderly charges.

This was Beau Arlen's first one as acting sheriff in Helena, Montana. So far, nothing was too serious. Kids partying in the country, couple drunks started early today and were already in the holding cells. Nothing he couldn't handle.

Jenny Hoyt comes into his office, "hey Beau, we got a domestic in progress."

Great. Well, his easy day just ended. Grabbing his cowboy hat off his desk he follows the blonde out to her truck.

"What we looking at Hoyt?"

"Nothing that can't be defused. I know the woman, y/n, she's a local bartender. Sounds like her jerk of an ex has shown up drunk out of his mind, and she's got him standing at the end of her rifle."

Good grief. Some guys need to learn to take a hint. Jenny gives him the low down on their very messy and public breakup. Typical story, he couldn't keep his dick in his pants, and she found out. Now he's back begging for another second chance.

Got to admit, knowing y/n isn't letting him get away with what he did to her shows she's strong.

It's as you'd expect when Beau and Jenny get on scene. A tall blonde, obviously drunk, man is swaying back and forth as he talks with his hands. Trying desperately to get back into her pants.

The woman, who he assumes is y/n, is a beautiful brunette. She's hyper focus on her ex boyfriend. The rifle point straight at the guys genitals.

Beau shakes his head with a smirk when he realizes she's not pulling any punches today.

"Jenny this isn't any of your concern. I've got it handled." Y/N says without breaking eye contact with the blonde man.

"That I have no doubt Darling." Beau's deep voice breaks the brunette out of her focus. Drawing her blue eyes to his green ones. God damn she's beautiful.

Apparently, her ex has finally figured out there are more people here. He whips around to face the two officers, "I don't know who you are, but stop hitting on my girl before I knock your lights out."

Looks like blondy has some balls.

"Hello. Names Beau Arlen. I'm the new acting sheriff at the moment." Beau extends his hand out to shake.

Drunken and disorderly glares at it before speaking, "I don't give a shit who you are, get your fucking eyes off my woman asshole."

Y/N is the first to speak, "Jeremy shut the fuck up you idiot." She shakes her head before addresses Jenny and I, "you have to excuse him, he's apparently left his brain cell at home today."

"Baby don't be like that. I swear I didn't mean it, it was an accident."

"Oh yes, you accidentally slipped and your dick just fell into her vagina right?"

Beau couldn't help but laugh. It honestly had to be the best thing he's ever heard from a woman. Of course, Beau laughing pissed off the man standing in front of him. So much so that he made the mistake of trying to swing at the sheriff.

It took Beau two well practiced moves to have the drunk idiot on the ground with his hands cuffed behind his back.

Jenny took the man to her truck, leaving Beau and y/n alone.

"I had it handled." Y/N sassed while lowering her weapon. Beau couldn't while the smile off his face.

"I have no doubt. But what kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't help a pretty lady such as yourself?"

"Pretty lady hey?"

Beau nodded and bit his lower lip. He knows he should be the attracted to someone he is dealing with in a professional capacity. Something about the fierce brunette has him rock hard in his blue jeans.

No other words are spoken between the two as she walks up to him. Rising on her tip toes to bring her lips to his. The kiss is hot, desperate, and passionate. When she breaks away, he's left craving more.

"Must be luck of the Irish that you were here to help me then, sheriff."

With that she walks back into her house. Leaving Beau wanting more and her drunken ex swearing in the backseat.

#jensen ackles #beau arlen #big sky #jensen ackles smut #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x y/n #beau arlen smut

[toastedkiwi]

Okay what does popstar!readers dad say when Riley asks and how does he propose to her

There’s a stare down. Riley wasn’t too sure how it was going to go. He stood his ground because he’s so serious about her and his decision. Finally, her dad says “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, Riley, and some with her. Lost time I couldn’t get back. But I’ve seen the way she looks at you and I know how much it killed her when the two of you weren’t speaking. I don’t want the same shit happening to the two of you. Don’t you dare break her heart again because I will bury your ass.” Riley said “I hope to god I never do and I’ll take care of her.” He’s told “you have my blessing.” They shake hands and then hug.

I think I originally said that it was in a truck bed but I’m kinda feeling like that’s how Riley proposes to Ex Popstar!Reader.

For Popstar!Reader, he proposes onstage. It wasn’t the original plan because what if she says no and THERES PEOPLE WATCHING. But they were singing one of his songs together. He was looking at her and she looked so beautiful. She glances over at him because he isn’t singing. He first says/mouths “you should marry me.” She’s like “what?!” People are confused because what’s happening— Riley’s stopped playing his guitar and he’s stopped singing. Popstar!Reader is trying to stay professional. But this man took off the cowboy hat and got his guitar off his shoulder and to a roadie. The ring is pulled out from an inside slit that he’s kept it safe in. This man gets down on one knee. The music stopped. She gasped. Fans are screaming. He does an off the cuff speech and finally asks the questions. She nods yes and nearly tackles him. He lifts her off the ground and they kiss. The crowd is SCREAMING.

#riley green x popstar!reader #riley green x ex popstar!reader

[quality-on-a-patch-of-awesome]

Me, for at least a full minute during episode 2.06 and 2.07 of Midnight Texas: No. No. No. No.

Me, at other points during episode 2.06 and 2.07 of Midnight Texas: But also yes, though

So, here's the thing- I kind of love Walker. Sure, he's got a pretty cliche backstory, but that makes perfect sense with his motivations. And, okay, there's probably no way of ignoring the fact that Chuy wouldn't have died if Walker hadn't turned up, but also Joe should probably take some responsibility for his actions instead of just getting pissy at Walker after. Like, Walker came in with a crush on Joe and pretty much had to take his chance- it's all on Joe that he didn't say "I'm married and still very much in love with my husband". Having said that, though, if the show didn't want me to support Joe/Walker then they shouldn't have given us that scene where they were squaring up to each other and Joe's head is just brushing Walker's hat.

Also, I've only seen up to 2.07 so I might have to change my opinion based on 2.08 and 2.09

#midnight texas #joe strong #walker chisum #listen i am still pissed on chuy's behalf #but i ship it #sorry? #also i like joe's hair better now that he's cut it #also sorry? #and i had better tags #but tumblr ate them #you know shit's about to get serious when a cowboy takes off his cowboy hat #also how dumb was it for joe to cheat on his husband in a van in the day within sight of his home?

[smashedrose]

Cowboy Like Me (Kayce Dutton x Reader)

Warnings: Smut, cheating, rough sex, overstimulation, choking, degrading language, and a tiny age gap.

Prompt: Y/N recently moved into the bunkhouse after reconnecting with her cousin, Rip. During her first night she runs into Kayce and sparks fly, leading to a passionate night and a rude interruption. Set during season one when Monica took off with Tate to live with her parents.

Authors Note: I do not condone cheating and i’m in no way affiliated with the show. I wish. This is purely fiction.

Also might make this a series so let me know if you want a part two! We need more Kayce fanfiction.

———————————————————————

Growing up my father always told me that my only remaining cousin was a monster for what he did to my uncle. I never knew what had happened but the question lingered in my mind even now as a 20 year old. My father wasn’t a nice man and the second I got my scholarship for Montana State University I left his drunken ass behind to pursue my own dreams.

If only he could see me now, I think to myself, sitting across from my so-called evil cousin. “So uh, what is your major?” Rip asked me while staring at his hands. A few minutes before he had told me what truly happened during that fated night so many years ago. “Animal Science actually.” I reply and he looks surprised at my revelation. “Well no shit, how about over your winter break you come with me and work at Dutton Ranch and gain some experience. I know your Daddy ain’t giving ya a home for christmas.” He says.

Everyone in this damned state knew of the Duttons and I was taken aback by his offer. “Are you serious?” I ask, hopeful that he’s not the mean man my father always made him out to be. “Yeah of course. I’d like to get to know ya considering you’re all I have left.”

———————————————————————

Now here I am, staring at the door to the bunkhouse that will be my home for the next few weeks. “You’re boss is really okay with this?” I whisper, nervous that I’ll walk in and make a fool of myself. “Of course, plus we’re about to be working on a bunch of new heifers and need more hands.” Rip chuckles, opening up the door.

The second I walk in it reeks of beer and the foul smelling scent of man. I wrinkle my nose, causing Rip to laugh and lead me over to the group of men playing cards. “This is my baby cousin Y/N, y’all don’t lay a single finger on her she’s here to help out over the break.” He sternly states, glaring at the man with guitar who was looking me up and down.

“Which bunk is open?” I ask the group of gawking men. They all stare at each other as if to gauge their reactions until finally the oldest cowboys says “Back left one.”

I make my way to my bed and set my hat on the floor, nervous about what I got myself into. I grew up riding horses and working cattle but i’d never been fully emerged into the lifestyle like this. I needed air to breathe so I put on my jacket and headed outside, marveling at the night sky.

I sat there for a while until I heard someone come up to me, expecting it to be Rip I pay no mind to it and continue to stare up at the sky.

“Who are you?” I hear a deep voice behind me ask. Startled, I turn around and see a man with dirty blonde hair and a slight beard towering over me. “Uh I’m Y/N.” I say staring up at the stranger. His eyes widen and he laughs, coming to sit down next to me on the grass. “Oh shit, you’re Rip’s cousin. I was expecting a child from the way he described you.” He says, laughing still.

I smirk and look back up, shaking my head. “Nah, I’m in college.” I laugh. I can feel his body heat radiating off him and realize I don’t even know his name. “Do you have a name?” I ask, to which he replies “I’m Kacey.” and takes a swig out of a bottle he had been holding.

“Well Kacey, you mind sharing?” I glance down at his bottle and back up at him, trying not to look like i’m checking him out. “Are ya 21?” He asks “In 2 months I will be.” I cheekily reply, grasping the bottle in his hands.

“Hell, close enough for me.”

———————————————————————

I can’t remember how we got here but next thing I know i’m on his lap with my hands in his hair, empty bottle discarded who knows where. His lips are on mine and he bites down on my lower lip gently, causing me to moan.

“Gotta be quiet, can’t let them know we’re out here doing this.” He whispers before attacking my lips again. I begin to slowly shift my hips and whisper in his ear “Well then why don’t you take me somewhere else?”.

He slowly stands up with me still in his arms, refusing to break the kiss. My body feels wobbly from either the alcohol, Kayce stumbling to a barn, or both. My mind races as he sets me down on a bench before rushing to shut the barn doors.

“Now, where we’re we?” He says before ripping his shirt off and laying on top of me. I feel up and down his chest, tracing my fingers over the brand. Huh, I guess the rumors about that were true.

But my exploration of him was cut short as he gripped my hands and held them over my head, attacking my neck with kisses. At this point I couldn’t hold in the moans and let go, knowing we were secluded enough. He reaches one hand down to lift my shirt, while still holding me on the wooden bench. His face retreats from my neck and he smirks at my lack of bra.

“You expecting to get with someone tonight?” He winks and I giggle looking up “Nah, it was more comfortable with this shirt.”

He leans down close to my ear and whispers “Good, because I don’t like sharing.”. He begins to lower his body down to my waist and eventually his face comes parallel to my belt buckle. “Ladies first.” He smirks and takes off the belt, along with my pants and underwear.

The cool air hits me and I subconsciously close my legs, making him look up. “You want this?” He asks before proceeding. I nod my head and smile “If you don’t fuck me right now i’ll find someone who will.” And with that his mouth is on my clit and he is sucking feverishly.

I cant help but scream, it’s been a while and he was just so good. He raises his head and teaches his hand up to place over my mouth and gets back to work.

He stops the torture on my clit and traces his tongues across every crevice, taking extra time with the places that encourage a muffled groan. His tongue feels like heaven and I can feel myself getting close, not knowing how long it has been.

Eventually he focuses on my clit again and adds a single finger, causing me to fall apart. In an instant I’m a quivering mess being held down by this arm as he continues his onslaught.

Once he’s satisfied he gets up and wipes a hand over his face, only to lip the juices back up. His hands fly to his jeans and they’re quickly removed, thrown into a pile with mine and he’s back on top of me in an instant.

“Your turn?” I ask hopefully, reaching down to stroke him. “No darlin, we’ll have time for that later. First I wanna be inside of you.” He groans and slowly pushes himself into me, stretching me open.

“Holy fuck.” I moan and cling to his back for support. “Holy fuck is right. You’re so fucking tight.” He says and begins thrusting in and out, picking up the pace as he goes.

His hands are everywhere, gripping me and eventually coming to rest on my neck, tightening as he moves faster. I can feel my body riding up and down the rough bench and although I know it’ll hurt tomorrow, it just felt so good in the moment.

“F-fuck Kayce, yes please don’t stop.” I cry out and with that he picks up his pace even more, slamming me into the bench with his hips. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

He shifts his hand around my neck to place his thumb on my mouth which I gladly accept and suck. He groans at the sight and grips my face hard and moans out “You like that? You like being my little slut?”

The pleasure was too much for me and I couldn’t take it anymore, looking up at him I moan out “You’re gonna make me cum again.”

He grips my thighs and spreads them wide, watching as I spiraled out of control. “Yeah? You gonna cum on this dick and let the whole ranch know who’s fucking you this good?” He mutters out and I lose it, screaming out his name into the night.

I feel him pulse within me and he collapses on top of me, kissing my cheek while panting. I groan from his weight and run my fingers through his hair.

Suddenly, we hear a knock on the door and a female laugh.

“Damn Kayce, Monica and Rip ain’t gonna be too happy about this.”

———————————————————————

Part Two…

#yellowstone #fanfiction #smut #kayce dutton #rip wheeler #kayce x reader #john dutton #dutton ranch #beth dutton #fanfic #rip #kayce #rip x reader #rip x beth #masterlist #yellowstone ranch #rated m #rough #yellowstone smut #kayce dutton fanfiction #yellowstone fanfic #yellowstone fanart

[lesbobiwan]

8 with Hunter 🥺 Please and thank you 😇

#8: "If you're going to act like a little brat then I'm going to treat you like a little brat." + Hunter

warnings: spanking as punishment, cunnilingus, the joys of trying to have a sex life while being a parent to a nosy child

(lets pretend that the galaxy is nice and the bad batch has both omega and crosshair on board. because im the writer and say fuck u cowboy hat man. also u guys r here for porn. not plot)

It wasn't like you were being serious. You only wanted to have a little fun.

Crosshair was just... conveniently there.

"You must have very steady hands," you remark, holding up Crosshair's hand to inspect them.

He smirks from around his toothpick, totally aware of what little game you're playing but always ready to fuck with his brother.

His fingers are more slender than Hunter's, nimble in a way that's beneficial for a man who lives his life on the trigger of a gun.

You've always valued thickness over length.

You continue to inspect Crosshair's fingers regardless.

He lets you ooh and ahh at his fingers and in turn gets a nice confidence boost while fucking with Hunter. A beneficial relationship.

The vein on Hunter's is getting exponentially larger with every second you spend touching Crosshair, but it isn't until Crosshair offers to give you a personal demonstration of how useful his fingers can be that Hunter stands up.

"Alright," Hunter's voice is short and clipped and sure to cause the best kind of pain for your backside. "Everybody out." He stands up from his bunk, drawing the attention of Wrecker, Tech, Echo, and Omega.

"What?" Echo's voice is incredulous as he looks up from whatever he was tinkering with.

"Where are we going?" Omega asks, bouncing up to her feet.

You would smile at her overabundant enthusiasm if it weren't for the fact that you wanted to be fucked. Now.

Being a new parent really puts a damper on your sex life, which was already had to be a little sneaky to begin with when you shared a ship with four other people.

Hunter falters, mouth falling open but staying silent.

"Um, Hunter and I just need to talk about something real quick, sweetheart," you cover, excitement starting to build in your gut.

Tech scoffs and mumbles something under his breath.

Wrecker elbows him hard enough to shove Tech into the side of the bunk.

"Oh," Omega rolls onto the backs of her heels, "what about?"

Yup, you're tapped out for trying to come up with excuses to get a child out of the house so you can have sex.

You look at Hunter and gesture out towards Omega. Your turn.

"Uhm... adult stuff," Hunter stammers smartly.

"C'mon, kid," Wrecker plucks Omega up around the waist and hauls her under his arm like a ball, easily leading her out of the ship.

Tech and Echo are the next to rise, both of them hauling little scraps of machinery.

"You do know we're in the middle of nowhere," Tech reminds the two of you on your way out.

"Out, Tech."

Crosshair is the last to get up, groaning with the obvious tremendous effort it takes to stand up. "You owe me," he informs you, pointing one of his long fingers at you.

"Bye, Crosshair," you sing, reaching out to graze a finger along his wrist as he steps past you.

The tension in the ship is palpable.

"I can't help but feel like you're mad at me," you point out, eyes trailing over the way that Hunter's broad chest rises and falls with each of his deep inhales.

You see Hunter's nostrils flair — most likely breathing in your arousal. No sooner than the thought enters your mind, Hunter's eyes dilate. Definitely breathing in your arousal.

Still, he doesn't say anything.

"Me and Cross were just having some fun," you defend, cheeks growing red.

Suddenly, your grand idea doesn't seem that grand anymore.

"Do you want to do this here? Or in the bedroom?" Hunter steps closer into your personal space, so close you can smell the GAR issued soap on him mixed with something distinctly Hunter.

He's offering you a small bit of mercy, a small portion of control in your punishment.

Then you have to open your big mouth.

"We could always use Crosshair's bun — hey!"

Hunter's hand closes around your hair within one breath and the next.

"Hunter!" you cry out, hands scrambling at his wrist, "What the hell are you doing? Let me go!"

He sits on a bunk and — oh, fuck it's actually Crosshair's bunk, Hunter's actually doing this — sprawls you across his lap, one heavy hand on the back of your neck.

Heat rushes to your cheeks and your cunt. "Okay, this isn't funny," you say, while internally you beg for him to keep going, "let me up."

You don't try as hard as you should to get out of his grasp. You think Hunter knows.

"No." Hunter's grip on your neck tightens while his other hand drags both your pants and panties over your ass until they get stuck around your knees. "If you're going to act like a little brat then I'm going to treat you like a little brat."

Shit. You rub your thighs together over his lap, one of your hands clasping around his ankle.

"How many do you think you deserve after that little stunt?" Hunter asks, though you know it's purely rhetorical. "Ten? Fifteen?" His hand swipes across the meat of your asscheeks, warming up the skin before he strikes it — another small mercy.

You hold your breath. You're sure any number you give will only be doubled.

Hunter huffs. "Smart girl," he comments at your silence. "Count."

That's all the warning you get before —

Smack!

You yelp at the first sting across your skin. The sound registers first before the pain. You jerk across his lap, kicking your legs out as you squeal.

The hand on the back of your neck tightens imperceptibly. "Forgetting something?"

"One!" you cry out, voice thick.

He offers you no praise. Not yet, at least. He knows this is light work for you. It's towards the end of your punishment that he'll have to start talking you through it.

Smack!

Hunter's palm lands on your opposite cheek, harder this time.

"Two!" you yelp, hands clenching around Hunter's ankle.

True to form, it takes more than a few spanks in order for you to begin to reach your limit. Your eyes get teary and you do your best to dig your face into the pristine sheets of Crosshair's bunk.

Still, despite your pain, you feel your inner thighs get slick with your arousal.

"That's my girl," Hunter coos, fingers turning almost gentle as he scratches at the nape of your neck. "Just a couple more, can you do that for me?"

His hand soothes the skin of your burning ass, but you jerk against him in sensitivity.

It's too much. Too much, you just want to be good for him now.

"Color?" Hunter prods, pulling his hand away from your stinging cheeks.

"Green!" you sob into the sheets.

Good girls take their punishment.

Hunter gives you one appraising squeeze to the back of your neck, distinctly different from how he grabbed it to get you under control, and wastes no time in delivering two succinct and brutal spanks — one to each cheek.

You wail out each corresponding number and allow yourself to devolve into tears against the sheets.

Hunter smoothes contact-warm palms over your ass cheeks, soothing the ache as best he can without getting up to grab some bacta. "Good girl," he praises, "such a good girl for me," his hand around the back of your neck slides up and begins scratching at your scalp just the way you like.

You feel your heart rate slowing down, and no doubt Hunter can too, under his careful ministrations. The ache in your ass is no less prevalent, but you can bare it.

Besides, you think as you begin to roll your hips against his thighs, there's another feeling you can focus on, instead.

Hunter chuckles, sliding the hand on your ass to dip between your thighs and ghost a finger along your folds, "Well, I suppose you do deserve a reward, don't you?"

You turn to look at him over your shoulder with teary eyes. "Please?"

Hunter flicks his thumb across your clit, and you jolt across his lap for a different reason this time. "Hands and knees, baby," he murmurs, patting your hip once to signal for you to move.

Your limbs feel sluggish as you pull yourself off his lap. "On the floor?" you ask as you start to lower yourself onto the cold ground.

A hand around your wrist stops you. "No. Right here."

Your eyes flew open. On Crosshair's bunk? Spanking you in one thing, but fucking you?

Your cunt burns in excitement. Crosshair will never forgive you and you'll never forget this.

You settle yourself onto your hands and knees on the worn-in mattress, and you don't have to wait long at all before broad, thick fingers are spreading your thighs open and a wicked tongue is pressing against your cunt.

"Fuck!" you cry out, back bowing as Hunter dives in.

His tongue is downright sloppy as he does his best to bury his face in your dripping folds. The sounds he's making against you are obscene and make your facial cheeks go almost as red as your ass cheeks.

Hunter groans against your cunt like it's the best thing he's eaten, and you tremble with the vibrations.

Fuck, you're so close already, it's not even fair.

His lips wrap around your clit and he sucks.

"Hunter!" you sob, falling face first into the mattress. Your thighs tremble beneath his hands.

After being spanked within an inch of your life, your orgasm is tittering along a cliff's edge, ready to be knocked over by the barest gust of wind that comes along in the form of Hunter sliding two thick fingers into your cunt and curling.

You fall apart around him, lips falling open in a wordless scream as your walls clench around his fingers. His relentless lips that sucked at your clit switch to slow licks as you ride out your orgasm.

Hunter pulls his fingers from your sopping pussy with a wet squelch. Immediately, he sucks his fingers into his mouth.

You watch behind heavy eyelids as Hunter licks up every last drop of your release — you also notice the large wet spot in the front of Hunter's pants.

The knowledge that he came in his pants like some fresh-faced cadet is almost enough to have you wanting a second round.

"C'mon, baby," Hunter rasps, "Let's get you cleaned up."

~

When the rest of the crew comes back, Crosshair takes one look his bunk, with a wet spot from your tears and the crumpled up sheets and immediately groans.

"You're both disgusting. You're washing my sheets," he complains, pulling them off his bed as best he can without touching too much of them.

"Why?" Omega asks, popping her head in out of nowhere. "What'd they do?"

Yeah, Hunter can deal with that one too, you think as you burrow your face deeper into his chest and close your eyes.

#100 follower celebration #hunter brat tame me challenge #sergeant hunter x reader #hunter x reader

[writerofshit]

(I mentioned briefly a story of how the Stream Team met. This is that story.)

Somewhere in Los Santos, in the late night hours of a Tuesday, a convenience store is robbed. So is one several blocks southeast. And one roughly in the middle of them both. After all, what's more convenient than 24 hour chili dogs on every other street corner?

Cash. Cash is more convenient. So are guns. Hollering, waving one to get the other. Most important, back alleys that twist and turn, snaking away from increasingly distant sirens. Three individuals find themselves running through these alleys, a couple grand each weighing their pockets down.

It's through serendipity and convenience that their paths cross.

The man from the farthest store arrives first. He's done this a few more times than he'd like to admit, so he'd had a plan. Of sorts. Cut through the park, take a few sidewalks like an upstanding citizen, under the bridge and find a fire escape to utilize from there. There aren't any that reach the ground, of course, because he's smart but not quite enough.

And so this is why Trevor is standing in an dark alley, contemplating whether or not the dumpster will give him enough height to reach the ladder, when the man from the middle store appears. He's around Trevor's height, but would probably win in a fight between them, if he were so inclined. He doesn't seem to be, though. He seems shaken, like he's not quite sure how he ended up in this alley. He's holding a gun almost gingerly, as if it might bite him.

Trevor pulls his own gun.

'dont you fuckin' try anything!'

This does not go over well with Matt. He takes a step back, and then seems to remember that he also has a gun so maybe this is even footing. He holds it aloft, finger nowhere near the trigger.

'same, asshole!'

At this moment the robber from the first store arrives, also, of course, with a gun. And a mask. And an entire purple and orange neon fucking suit, actually, topped with a white cowboy hat. It gives them a few extra inches of height they are distinctly lacking, comparatively. Somewhere in the back of his head, Trevor acknowledges that this newcomer could probably kick his and the other gunman's asses. It is not a pleasant thought.

'oh, what the fuck!?'

Jeremy sounds more annoyed and less scared than one would think, considering they've run into an alley only to find two men with guns. Two men who quickly turn those guns on them.

'who the fuck are you?'

The question surprises them all, including Matt, even though he's the one who asked. As it turns out, people have a tendency to say the first thing that comes to mind when in a stressful situation. Such as, having robbed a convenience store for the very first time and immediately finding himself face to face with other apparent robbers. It would get to anyone, probably.

'i don't want any trouble, but i've already robbed someone tonight and i don't give a shit about felony murder!'

Two lies and a truth, is what Trevor has chosen to play, for some reason. In reality, one does not rob a convenience store at gun point if one is intent on staying out of trouble. And he does, in fact, care very deeply about felony murder. Felony murder is the precise reason he'd shot a bag of Doritos and not a clerk. In his defense, the clerk had initially rolled her eyes at him, asked what exactly he thought he'd get out of this. He'd found this question rude.

The truth, of course, is that he did rob a convenience store. That did happen. No take backs.

'so did i!'

Matt and Jeremy speak so in unison it's almost scary. If they didn't know any better, they'd think the two of them had always known each other.

Trevor's gun wavers between them, unsure which is the bigger threat. The guy who clearly has zero experience with guns, or the weirdo who seems to have far too much? It's a toss up, really. So his aim pinballs back and forth, but his finger does not curl around the trigger. He's serious about that felony murder thing.

The air seems to shift, suddenly, and the sound of sirens is now growing closer. This evidently also annoys Jeremy, and they throw a glance over their shoulder to the direction they'd come from. Red and blue lights flicker past.

'shit. ok. we're all robbers, i guess, and we're all fucked if we keep standing here. who's got a plan?'

Jeremy's eyes are staring impatiently at Trevor. Eyes being the only part of their face Trevor can see. And their hands, a plastic bag in one and a gun in the other.

Trigger finger is an apt name.

He glances at Matt, still wild eyed and glancing back and forth. No, Matt probably does not have a plan. He sort of gives the impression that he's never had a plan ever, actually. That perhaps he'd simply woken up here and decided to wing it. So Trevor makes an offer.

'fire escape?'

There's another moment of tense silence. Well, minus the sirens. And oh, helicopters. Even better. Jeremy shrugs.

'good a plan as any.'

And then they're off, brushing past Trevor and hoisting themself up onto the dumpster. He knew it could work. Trevor blinks and Jeremy has caught the ladder, is quickly working their way up. Shit, how does five foot something manage to get that high on a good day, much less in this situation and with a bag and gun in hand?

Matt's gun clatters to the ground, and honestly, that's probably for the best. He's climbing onto the dumpster now, and he mutters something about not signing up for this shit. Trevor reminds him that he apparently robbed someone, so yeah, he kind of did.

Before Trevor climbs up, he shoves his gun into his jacket pocket. Smart? Probably not. Convenient? More so than climbing with a gun in his hand. He follows Matt up the ladder, wondering what happened to his plan. Yeah, the ladder had been involved. Two other people, however, were not.

Above them, glass shatters.

'warning, maybe!?'

'oops. careful, there's glass.'

Jeremy's voice is no longer directly above them. Instead, it comes from one story up and a little to the left. So they've broken into an apartment. Sure, add breaking and entering to the list of charges, that sounds great. But Matt and Trevor follow, because there's not really another option.

Inside the apartment, Jeremy's mask is gone. The suit is quickly disappearing as well, revealing a rather boring outfit of a white tank top and...sweatpants? The true mystery lies in where the cowboy hat has gone to, because that's a hard item to miss.

'do we really have time for this? don't you think someone might, oh, i don't know, wake up and call the cops?'

Trevor doesn't mean to hiss, it's just that he's sure there's more pressing matters to attend to than an outfit change. Continuing to flee, perhaps.

'nobody's gonna wake up.'

They don't even have the wherewithal to lower their voice. It registers to Trevor that Jeremy's bag and gun are missing as well. Had they dropped them on the way up? It was certainly possible. Trevor thinks he would have noticed a gun flying past his head, but there's a lot going on.

'can we maybe not kill anyone? he brought up a good point with that felony murder thing.'

It's the most words Matt has strung together since he'd shown up. It's damn near a whisper, but at least it's progress.

'i'm not- god, can you two shut up? i gotta make a phone call.'

Jeremy yanks the door open, hand carefully wrapped in the fabric of their shirt. For a moment, Trevor thinks they're leaving and steps forward to follow Jeremy. Instead, Jeremy turns and heads toward the kitchen, pulling open a drawer and digging inside it briefly. They come back with a cell phone.

Something dawns on Trevor.

'is this- do you live here? did you break your own window?'

Jeremy doesn't answer. They put the phone to their ear.

'you're gonna wanna hide whatever you've got. and try not to look like you just climbed in through a window.'

And then-

'hello? yes, hi, i'd like to report a break in, i think? i was hearing a bunch of sirens and then i don't know what happened but some guy just broke my window? he ran through and i just- my friends and i are really scared and we didn't know what to do- yes, we're ok, he's gone, but we- you'll send someone? ok, thank you. the address? oh, uh, it's the del perro heights building, apartment 7. should i shut the door? no, don't touch anything. ok- guys, don't touch anything, she said someone's on their way to check on us! thank you so much- no, i think we'll be fine. thank you.'

It's a marvelous performance. Jeremy genuinely sounds like some poor flustered victim of a crime. Trevor would applaud if he thought Jeremy would appreciate it. Almost immediately, their voice is back to normal.

'check things out my ass. they're gonna show up, ask which way he went and never call me again. feel real fuckin safe.'

Jeremy settles themself onto the couch, choosing the spot closest to the door. Matt, who has apparently gotten over his initial terror, wanders into the kitchen. Searching for something to distract himself, if Trevor had to guess. Trevor is still standing in the middle of the living room, dumbfounded. How did a simple robbery become hanging out with other robbers, waiting for cops to show up?

'i'm jeremy, by the way. they won't ask, but y'know. just in case.'

They're flipping channels on the tv, seeming to arbitrarily skip almost a dozen programs. Finally, they settle on one and stand. Trevor recognizes it as an old Disney movie, and desperately wants to ask why the fuck Jeremy has put this on.

'uh, hi. i'm trevor. why are we watching Mulan?'

'matt. oh hell yeah, i love this movie!'

He sounds remarkably cheerful, considering the circumstances. How Trevor had seemingly switched places with Anxious McGee is beyond him. He needs to get it together. He pulls his gun from his pocket and takes it to the kitchen, sticking it in the drawer Jeremy had taken the phone from. There are several other phones of varying price point. He steps back to the living room just in time.

'that's why.'

They don't elaborate. Apparently Trevor is meant to just figure this out on his own, which ordinarily he might be able to do. After the course of events of this particular evening? Not a chance.

But he can't ask, because now there's a cop in the doorway and he's staring at Trevor and that will never be a good thing. Trevor stares back. He has no clue what he's meant to say. Hello? Welcome? He went that way?

'oh thank god! we've been so terrified, we didn't know if he'd come back or what he'd do.'

Naturally, Jeremy has taken lead on this. They're a phenomenal actor, Trevor has to admit.

'did you see which direction he went?'

'toward the stairs, i think. we've all been rooted to the spot, you know, it's so scary-'

Matt freezes in the doorway of the kitchen. He's just out of the view from the front door.

'right, well. you boys did the right thing by calling. can you give me a description of the man?'

The corner of Jeremy's mouth quirks.

'gosh, it all just happened so fast. taller than me, probably, but shorter than you, wouldn't you say, trey?'

Trevor nods, because he's not quite sure what else to do.

'alright, thank you. someone will be in touch with you for an official statement. in the meantime, if you remember anything else don't hesitate to call.'

He's holding a card out to Trevor, of all people. He takes it carefully, like if he does it wrong somehow the guy will know and arrest them all. The card is simply the number for a tip line.

As suddenly as he'd arrived, the cop is gone and they're all breathing sighs of relief. Jeremy closes the door.

'you guys can stay for Mulan, if you want.'

So they do.

Trevor asks about why Mulan again, and Jeremy explains that they assume most people have seen it, could answer any questions about it if they came up. Perhaps, if LSPD officers were less incompetent, they would have. Although if that were the case, they wouldn't be LSPD officers at all.

Matt asks about the window, and Jeremy says yes, they did break their own window. Of course they'd had an actual plan when they'd entered the alley. They were always going to end up exactly here, give or take the extras. Asking for a plan was simply a test, determining the merit in bring them along. They'd passed.

Jeremy asks if they want to stay for Mulan II, which is apparently up next. They do.

Somewhere in Los Santos, in the early morning hours of a Wednesday, three convenience stores are recovering from three separate robberies. Right in the middle of them all, their respective robbers are sitting on a couch together, watching a straight to video children's film.

It is the beginning of something far greater than any of them can imagine.

#is this dumb? maybe. did i have way too much fun writing it? absolutely. #is this how any of this would go irl? god no. is it still fun? hell yeah. #fahc #fake ah crew #ks writes

[dynyamight]

here’s a concept: deku, a farmer boy goes out to the Wild West and encounters a cowboy kacchan. deku teaches cowboy kacchan to plant corn and take care of chickens. they then become close. after that they marry and are known at the “maize buckaroo duo.”

(this is so random hshshshsh. but the idea just sparked outta nowhere ;33)

i offer you, farmer!deku x cowboy!bkg you give concept. i create fanfic. ;33 i luv this idea & ilysm

—

When Midoriya registers the fast, loud gallops outside, hitting and snapping down on the ground, he ceases his movement, before smiling hard.

The Monday morning has just started, and already there’s excitement in his chest. Those familiar sounds gave him the absolute flutters.

However, that excitement drops. Daisy huffs, back kicking at the milk bucket in an annoyed fit. Midoriya hurriedly picks it up, before all their shared, hard efforts were to go down the hay. Literally.

“Sorry, sorry!” Midoriya urges the cow, quickly smacking his wet hands on the folded towel on his knee. Then, resting a short calm palm on her snout, he whispers reassuringly, “You did amazing, today. Let’s get you back on the field.”

After setting the bucket aside, Midoriya takes the rope around Daisy in one hand, and lifts open the gate with the other. Together, they slowly make their way out of the stables, more or less. Daisy steps on Midoriya’s heels, hurrying him up.

However, stepping outside, Midoriya already knows to turn to his left, instead of his right at the gated grass field. From the sounds he heard inside, he bets on seeing Dynamite, first.

And, sure enough, turning around the corner of the stables, the proudful stallion meets his eyes, neighing a loud greeting over his way. Midoriya halts Daisy and offers a small wave back.

There’s a small jolt from Dynamite, before he starts walking, at a quick pace over towards Midoriya. Finally, that’s when Midoriya sees Bakugou, riding on the back of the horse, the finest, leather saddle equipped.

Midoriya shakes his head, smiling up. “Surprising to see you, so soon. It’s not even sunrise, Kacchan.”

“How fucking rude,” Bakugou clicks his tongue, before stopping Dynamite’s steps with a small pull. He tips his black, cowboy hat down, though barely. “Not even a damn ‘morning’ my way.”

“You’re never one for pleasantries, anyway.” Midoriya teases, pointing at his hat. “You didn’t do a full tip, you know.”

“Tch, you ain’t special.” Bakugou huffs, “Be grateful.”

Taking a few steps forward, Midoriya pats the side of Dynamite’s face. “Good morning, boy! How are you, on this fine early day?” He holds in the laugh, glancing at the scowl Bakugou sends his way.

Dynamite doesn’t give any cues of delight. But, by the way Midoriya feels the stallion lower his head, and press firmly against his hand, it’s not too far-fetched to assume he loves the touch.

On the other hand, Bakugou swats at Midoriya, face twisted in disgust. “Gross! I don’t want that fucking creature’s juices all over him.”

Behind Midoriya, Daisy stomps on the ground. ‘The field, remember?’ Midoriya imagines her quip. And, from the wagging of her tail, she’s losing her patience. Quickly.

“Yeah, yeah.” Bakugou sneers aloud, speaking directly at Daisy, “Say whatever you want. But, I ain’t wanting your spoiled cheese on my damn horse.”

“That’s not what she’s upset about.” Midoriya deadpans. “And, what? Can’t handle milk, out of all things?”

“Milk that came straight out of her tit.”

“Where else would it come from? Trees?”

“Whatever, I just don’t want that shit on my horse, for fuck’s sake.”

Though, they couldn’t argue anymore about it. With a strong force, Daisy begins to pull Midoriya away, forgoing staying another second away from her beloved grass.

Fortunately, for Midoriya’s heart, Bakugou cues Dynamite to follow, trailing right next to them. “Damn, she reminds me of my hag. So fucking dramatic.”

“Your hag?” Midoriya questions, tossing a curious head over. “Is she your dog?” He guesses.

“My mom.” Bakugou corrects, nonchalantly.

Midoriya supposes the open expression of shock wasn’t concealed well, because Bakugou lets out a laugh, turning away with a fist to his mouth. “You’re such a mama’s boy.” He snickers. It leaves Midoriya red in the face.

It’s just he would never call his mother anything, but an absolute blessing. He loves her, dearly.

The moment they step onto the wide, open area of the field, Daisy tosses her head, wanting the rope around her neck off. Hushing her quiet and still, Midoriya loosens off the knot, allowing the loop to widen, and finally, pulling it over her head, free.

As Daisy trots away, passing through the sheep and goats, Midoriya’s surprised to see Bakugou pulling himself off Dynamite. Landing smoothly on his feet, leather boots shiny with clean spurs, Bakugou fixes his hat, showcasing more of his face.

His red meets green. “Nice farm you got building.” He compliments. “An improvement from before.”

Midoriya nudges him, with a dull elbow jab. “Stop, It looks the same.”

“That ain’t true.” Bakugou firmly states. “Two months ago, this place had nothing.”

“Well, it’s still not enough to open a public business.” Midoriya sighs, readjusting the straps of his brown overalls. ”I might have to pull out another loan, in order to afford some harvest equipment for my corn.”

“Tch, that’s why you should join the rodeos.” Bakugou insists, crossing his arms to his chest. “It’s the easiest way to make money, here. Good money.”

Midoriya looks back at Bakugou, unimpressed. “Says the state champion.”

Dynamite snorts, conveniently in tune to Midoriya’s mock. It causes a slight reddening in Bakugou’s face. He quickly turns back to his horse, munching on the grass. “Shut it.”

“Anyways, I’ll find a way. Rodeo, or not.” Midoriya continues, yawning in between his words.

“Geez, where’s your damn etiquette.”

“Left it back home. With all my sins and exes.” Midoriya teases, outright. And, despite the smack over his head hurting, Midoriya can’t help, but laugh. “I’m serious!”

“You’re so annoying.” Bakugou grumbles, digging one of his spurs on the ground. “Bringing up stupid shit.”

Midoriya shrugs, still rubbing the back of head. “I promise you, I was a lady killer, where I’m from.”

“Killing those poor, innocent ladies with your bad breath.”

Immediately, Midoriya raises a hand over his mouth, puffing out an air. Though, all he can smell really, is Daisy.

God, did that mean his breath smells like Daisy? The cow?

Bakugou rolls his eyes. “Gullible Deku.” He simply states. “Your breath s’fine.”

Midoriya groans, and he tries to smack Bakugou back over the head. Though, Bakugou dodges his hand easily, leaning away.

“Making fun of a farmer on his own bought land, is an insult to his pride.” Midoriya huffs, taking back his hand.

“What are you going to do about it?” Bakugou mocks, a grin forming against his lips. “Make me work? Not a chance.”

With a lightbulb feeling running through his mind, Midoriya absolutely loves the off handed suggestion. “Actually, yes! You can help me feed the chickens!”

Turning his heels quickly, Midoriya smiles at the absolute panic in Bakugou’s voice. “Hah? What the— No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you are!” Midoriya sings aloud, taking quick steps towards the gate. “C’mon, hurry up, now! Leave Dynamite out on the grass!” He calls out, as he opens the gates, and goes into a full sprint out.

By the time he reaches the stables, goes to his feeding cabinet, shelves crowded with plastic containers and bags of nutrients for his livestock and crops, and grabs onto the chicken feed, Bakugou has begrudgingly made his way inside.

“It smells.” Bakugou complains.

“Suck it up.” Midoriya laughs, before taking a plastic bowl off the shelves and setting it down on the counter. He pours the feed inside. “I bet the rodeos smell just as bad.”

“They don’t.”

“Well, you’re being paid to say that.”

Bakugou walks over to him, standing by his side. He leans on the counter, as Midoriya lifts the feed bag back into the cabinet. “If they did, I wouldn’t do them.” Bakugou states, narrowing his eyes. “Simple as that.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Before Bakugou can insist otherwise, Midoriya pushes the bowl into his hands. He holds back a laugh, when Bakugou almost drops it completely. “Now, let’s head to the coop, shall we?”

Clicking his tongue, Bakugou grimaces. “S’too fucking early for this.”

“Hey, you’re the one who showed up.” Midoriya reminds him, as they walk to the back of the stables, where the clucks of the chickens resound louder. “Which, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s with the sudden visit? Forgot to buy eggs, from yesterday's pick up?”

“Does it matter?” Bakugou questions, instead.

That takes Midoriya aback. “I mean, not really. But, we never meet on the weekdays.” He admits softly. He takes a moment away, to crack open at the tall, wooden gate at the end of the hall.

The chickens weren’t too active, thankfully. Several of them are still sitting perched and hidden inside the coop. Otherwise, only a few were already walking around outside the coop, clucking aimlessly.

Midoriya feels Bakugou lean close to him. When he looks, he notices a chicken had passed by Bakugou’s boots, with no pay to mind. However, Bakugou was visibly losing his mind.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared.” Midoriya smiles.

Bakugou scowls, glaring right down at him. “They got bacteria. Sick motherfuckers.”

For a cowboy, Bakugou has a keen distaste for getting unnecessarily dirty. It never fails to surprise Midoriya. “Well, just wash your clothes when you get back home.”

“I got other shit to do after, you know.” Bakugou growls.

“Again,” Midoriya sighs, “You’re the one who chose to be here. I’m simply utilizing you.”

As Midoriya leads Bakugou over to the coop, he grumbles under his breath. “Gonna have to pull another loan, if you want me working for your ass.”

Rolling his eyes, he ignores the silly comment, and instead gestures at Bakugou to start throwing the feed at the nearby chickens, surrounding the coop. When he stares back, confused, Midoriya remembers the guy’s not a farmer in the slightest. “Start throwing the feed.”

Bakugou hurriedly starts tossing small amounts. “I knew that. Thought you were gonna say something else.”

It’s hard to imagine what else an open hand in air would mean, but nevertheless Midoriya doesn’t argue. The chickens awake are already bustling over, surrounding the dropped feed in seconds.

Taking a handful from the bowl, Midoriya kneels down, going close to the small crowd of chickens. He notices some of them quickly waddle over to him, instead of feed dropped on the ground. The few that come to him peck at his hand, and it floods warmth to Midoriya’s heart.

“They prefer off the hand, huh.” Bakugou comments above him.

“I would like to think that they like me, but sure.” In seconds, the feed’s all gone, and the chickens wait around him for more.

“You should kneel down, too.” Midoriya offers gently to Bakugou, making sure his voice doesn’t startle the creatures. “Feed them off your hand.”

There’s an obvious hesitation, before Bakugou gets low, kneeling next to Midoriya.

One of the chickens tries to reach into the bowl in hands, in which he pulls it away quickly. “I’m getting fucking attacked already.”

“They’re eager.” Midoriya insists.

Dipping his hand into the bowl, Bakugou raises a handful of his own. He whips his head to Midoriya, glaring. “If my hand bleeds, I demand a lawyer to prosecute you.”

They don’t even hurt that bad. Though, telling Bakugou that would probably have him second guess everything. Hence, Midoriya shakes his head. “You won’t.”

Within a few seconds of only impatient clucking surrounding them, Bakugou finally puts his hand out. In seconds, the chickens start to peck at his hand, picking up all the feed quickly.

Midoriya stares at Bakugou. He’s cursing them out, demanding them to stop pecking so hard, for fuck’s sake. And, despite the apparent discomfort from the first handful, Bakugou goes for another handful, offering his hand once more.

Again, the cussing ensues, but it’s still all Bakugou’s free will. He could have stopped at the first hand, but he didn’t. Instead, he’s still kneeling next to Midoriya, feeding these silly, rambunctious chickens.

When Bakugou definitely had better things to do.

“Why did you show up?” Midoriya asks once more, standing up. The chickens have already departed, as Bakugou had tossed the rest of the feed from the bowl, out in the open. “You only buy my products on Sunday’s.”

“Why do you keep asking.” Bakugou reflects back, opening the wooden gate open for Midoriya.

Midoriya steps in front of him, back inside the stables. Once inside, hearing the wooden gate close, he turns around, facing him. “You know, I’m not letting you off, without hearing what’s on your mind.” He softly smiles.

Bakugou stares back at him. And, for an odd moment, his eyes scan all over his face, jittering, until they cease. “You’re making this a big deal, Deku. Just wanted to check up on the farm.”

Ah, that does make sense. “Oh my— Then, why didn’t you say that earlier!" Midoriya laughs.

Bakugou shrugs. “Again, it’s not a big deal. Now, where’s the damn sink?”

Midoriya leads them back to the entrance of the stables, where the sink was, alongside various cleaning supplies perched on shelves. They wash their hands, in silence.

They don’t say much either, when they head back to the grass field, to pick up Dynamite. Though, Midoriya doesn’t mind the silence. Bakugou has a limit to his social battery, and Midoriya has grown to know when it’s time to give him his quiet and peace.

After Bakugou sits back up on Dynamite, and they walk back to the open road, around the corner of the stables, he slightly pulls the reins, causing the stallion to come to a stop. It causes Midoriya to look up, wondering if the cowboy forgot something, back in the stables.

Instead, there’s a slight flush in his cheeks. He coughs loudly, clearing nothing in his throat. “There’s a rodeo this Friday.”

Midoriya waits for the rest, but instead Bakugou says nothing else. “Oh, uh, okay? Will you be participating?”

“Yeah.” Bakugou simply utters.

Again, nothing else is said. “Well, I wish you the best of luck, then.” Midoriya offers, despite the confusion in his mind.

“Are you—” Bakugou stops, inaudibly grumbling under his breath. “I mean, the rodeo ain’t too far from here.”

“Oh!” Midoriya’s genuinely surprised, “Who would have thought? That’s a shocker.”

“Yeah. You could go, even.”

“I’m not joining rodeos. No matter how many times you demand.” Midoriya laughs.

“No, to watch.” Bakugou corrects, though the moment he slips the words, it suddenly causes his entire face to go red. “Fuck, I mean, you could watch. Other riders, and competitors, or whatever the fuck.”

Midoriya can’t seem to understand where Bakugou’s coming from. This cowboy wants him, a new residential farmer, to watch a rodeo. A rodeo, which he has never seen in his entire life.

Though, if Bakugou’s asking, Midoriya’s heart will always simply agree. “I’ll go watch, then.” He reassures him, “And, I guess I’ll cheer you on, if you’re any good.”

Bakugou’s face calms, though there’s still a stiffness in his shoulders. “Cool.”

Midoriya thinks he wants to say something more, but instead Bakugou brings his thighs closer to Dynamite, squeezing him slightly. Instantly, Dynamite starts trouting off.

Before he can call out, Bakugou looks back at him. “Starts at 7 in the afternoon! Don’t be fucking late!”

And, just with a small kick, Dynamite starts racing off on the road, Bakugou leaving Midoriya only with his thoughts.

There’s not a lot of information about the rodeo, though Midoriya knows he will most definitely ask around for the rest of the details. Essentially, it’s a nearby rodeo, that starts at 7PM. Surely, there are others in town that know where exactly is the event.

Midoriya can’t help, but drift his focus away from the rodeo, and back to Bakugou’s distant figure. Against the morning sunrise, he looks so cool.

But, a farmer like him, attracted to a cowboy like Bakugou, is so embarrassing.

#star responds #thank you for the best idea ckai !! #basically: deku has moved states in order to build his perfect farm #however all he can produce rn is milk. eggs. and oddly enough corn #& at the start. he only had his trustee ol' cow his mother had gifted him #so. when cowboy bakugou drops by the farm one day. with his horse exhausted and needing a pit stop #he stumbled upon a farmer who literally had nothing #however. his kind gentle soul causes bakugou to willingly buy his milk. which he greatly pays for #after that. he stops by every sunday. to buy whatever products midoriya has in stock. or more or less HAS #& bakugou has a definite crush on the farmer. hence. the rodeo invite #midoriya finds him attractive and exciting. but not much else. #if anything he doubts bakugou would even be interested in a lame farmer like him #little does he know ;)) #bakudeku #bkdk #ckatsudon #my beloved #FICLET

[onlyangelcas]

boats and a blue-eyed birthday boy

read on ao3

The boat won’t start, because that’s just Dean’s luck. His son is inside, celebrating his 4th birthday, and his surprise gift is malfunctioning right before the big reveal.

Ever since Dean, Cas, and Jack moved out of the bunker and into their cottage-style lake house, Jack had been obsessed with the water. He was enthralled by the lake, spending hours on the dock watching the fish swim by or dipping his feet in on warm days. Cas fueled his interest by purchasing every book and guide about lake-dwelling creatures and plants.

Jack’s obsession was pushed even further when their elderly neighbor had offered to take him fishing on his boat. From that moment on, boats became all the rage in the Winchester home. Books about boats moved in next to the lake books on Jack’s bookshelf, his cowboy themed bed sheets were swapped for a set adorned with tiny sailboats. Dean and Cas had to practically restrain him from pestering their neighbor for a boat ride everyday.

That’s how Dean found himself purchasing a repaired boat from some guy in southwest Minnesota. He had made the drive to pick up the boat a few weeks ago, it was relatively affordable, not a luxury speedboat or ridiculous pontoon, but perfect for about 6 people to climb on board for a day of fishing or relaxing on the water. Dean had made a plan with El, their elderly neighbor, to keep the boat stored in his garage until Jack’s birthday. El was happy to help, even took apart the motor to make sure everything was working and got it in the water that morning to surprise Jack.

Now, Dean is huffing over the damn thing, trying to decipher why it won’t start. Everyone else, including El, the only person that could actually help him, is inside trying to keep Jack distracted while Dean preps the boat.

“Shit,” Dean curses, after another failed attempt at turning the engine over.

He slams his forehead into the steering wheel, frustrated tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. Four was the worst year of Dean’s life, for obvious reasons, and he wanted to make sure that Jack’s fourth year was everything that his wasn’t. He knows it’s stupid, to get this worked up over a freaking boat, but this boat was so much more than that. It was a promise to Jack that he would always be there, he would always love him. So if he’s a little emotional over the possibility that this boat will ruin his son’s very important 4th birthday, who can blame him?

Dean turns his face toward the sky, the sun peaking through the tree branches to warm his skin. He thinks this is a moment he would pray, if he had anyone to pray to. Considering his two favorite angels are already inside the house, it seems kind of arbitrary. Instead he just looks at the sky, watches puffy white clouds drift by lazily, and wonders pointlessly about what he did to deserve this.

“Looks like you could use some help.” Says a gravelly voice Dean instantly recognizes as belonging to El.

He runs a hand across his face, quickly wiping away any evidence of tears. “You think you can get this thing going?”

“I should have told you earlier, you got to give it some gas as you turn the key.” El says simply, nudging Dean out of the way before pressing his foot to the accelerator and starting the boat.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Dean declares, slapping a hand to the other man’s back. “I thought the day was ruined.”

El laughs, adjusting his trucker cap and turning to face Dean with a serious look. “Boy, you think this boat not running would have ruined the day?”

Dean cocks his head to the side slightly, a mannerism he’s picked up from Cas after all these years. “Would have been a bummer if Jack’s surprise tanked.”

“You coulda given that kid an old thing with a couple of paddles and he woulda been ecstatic.” El smiles, clapping his shoulder affectionately. “All he really wants is something to share with you.”

In moments like these, El reminds him of Bobby so much that it almost knocks the wind out of him. There’s a lump in Dean’s throat, he quickly turns his head toward the ground and lets out a wet laugh.

“You and Cas,” El starts again. “And I guess Sam helped out, too. You guys raised that boy right, he doesn’t need things to be happy, he just needs people.”

Dean looks up, his glossy eyes meeting El’s, he gives him a soft smile. “Now, how’s about we go get that kid and show him his gift.”

“Yeah,” Dean laughs. “It’s showtime.”

El promises to keep watch of the boat while Dean jogs back up to the house. He pulls open the backdoor and immediately bumps into Kaia, who is looking at him guilty with her hands tight around Claire’s waist.

“Really? This is a birthday party for a 4 year old.” Dean attempts to scold, but there’s no real heat to it.

“Sorry!” Kaia yells as Claire says, “Who died and made you a patron saint?”

Dean laughs loudly at that, pressing a kiss to the side of Claire’s head as he passes. He makes his way into the kitchen, where Sam and Eileen are putting the finishing touches on Jack’s birthday cake.

Where’s Cas? He signs when Eileen catches his eye.

Living room. She signs back, giving him a warm smile.

He can hear Rowena’s laughter filling the room before he even steps over the threshold. She’s standing to the side of the living room, deep in conversation with Jody and Donna. Jack is on the floor with Alex, talking animatedly while he secures one of her braids with a bright pink hair tie. Jack’s wearing a red cowboy hat with a t-shirt that says ‘This is my 4th rodeo’, the shirt was Cas’ idea, along with the matching ‘Jack’s 4th Rodeo’ shirts that everyone in attendance is adorning.

Cas is perched on the sofa, watching Jack and Alex with a fond look in his eyes. Dean slides his hand across Cas’ shoulders and bends down to plant a sweet kiss against his lips. “It’s go time.”

Cas smiles excitedly as Dean sticks his hands under Jack’s armpits and pulls him to his feet. He reaches into his back pocket and retrieves a bandana that he begins to fasten over Jack’s eyes.

“Alright everyone, it’s time for Jack’s big surprise.” Dean says as he secures the bandana around Jack’s head. “Head out to the backyard so we can show our birthday boy his present.”

Everyone files out the backdoor and into the yard behind the house. Dean and Cas each take one of Jack’s hands in their own, leading him toward the dock.

“Okay buddy,” Cas says once the three of them reach the rocky shoreline, the rest of their family gathered behind them. “You ready?”

“Yes! I’m ready!” Jack nearly squeals.

Sam has his phone out, no doubt recording the moment so no one ever forgets it, as if they ever would.

“Everyone countdown with me,” Dean says, reaching for the bandana.

“Three… two… one!” The group counts off in unison as Dean releases the bandana in one swoop.

Jack stands there slack-jawed and in awe for a moment, clearly overwhelmed by the sight in front of him. “A boat?” He asks more than states.

“Yeah, baby, it’s for you.” Dean says, a little confused by the 4 year old’s reaction.

Jack turns to him and Cas, his hands still holding tightly onto theirs. “Our boat?”

“Yeah, Jack, your daddy picked it out for us.” Cas states, running a hand through Jack’s hair.

Jack releases both of their hands then, throwing his arms around Dean’s neck so aggressively that he tumbles from his crouched position onto his butt. “Thank you daddy!”

Dean buries his face into Jack’s neck, hiding his suddenly teary eyes, and says, “Happy birthday kiddo.”

Jack pulls away and places his small hands on the sides of Dean’s face before leaning in and pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek. “I love you daddy.”

Dean huffs a wet laugh, looking over Jack’s shoulder to see his family watching with eyes as shiny as his own.

“I love you more, Jack.” He says, smacking an equally sloppy kiss to his forehead. “Now, how ‘bout we take it for a spin?”

“Papa too?” Jack asks, eyes lighting up.

Dean looks up at Cas, who has tears slipping unashamedly down his cheeks, and smiles. “Yeah, papa too.”

After they get Jack secured in his life vest, he takes his spot at the front of the boat, kneeling on the seat and leaning precariously over the edge to watch the boat carve through the water. Cas is seated next to him, one hand looped tightly in the back of his life vest, and Dean is at the wheel. The sun is setting over the horizon, reflecting off the lake and painting them in a picture-perfect orange glow.

Jack looks back at Dean, his blonde hair curling slightly from the spray of the boat, his gap-toothed smile is wide and unapologetic. Cas is looking at him, too, affection and love spilling over every feature, his mouth turned up in a lopsided grin.

“I hope I can be 4 forever!” Jack yells, letting out a wild laugh as Cas reaches over to tickle his neck.

Dean knows, somewhere in the back of this mind, that he should be worried that Jack is getting older. One day he’ll grow up, probably move away, and their house will no longer be littered with plastic sailboats and tiny socks discarded around every corner. At this moment, though, he can’t find it in himself to worry. Jack won’t be 4 forever, but he’s sitting in front of Dean with a smile like sunshine, toothy and perfect, laughing raucously, unashamed in his joy, and that will always be enough.

#happy birthday jack #he's 4!!!!! #nougatparty #userzaddy #seraphcastiel #dclcu #djdjdk yes i posted this already but i wanted to include the text in the post not just the link #spn #supernatural

[luv-eddiediaz]

Hi. Me again, with my obsession of cowboy Eddie and city Buck. 

I was driving around the country last night looking for some cool rocks to put in my yard (I live in town, but like 20 minutes from all the ranches and wide open spaces), and I had like a Buddie version of a Hallmark movie playing in my head the whole time. 

Imagine with me:

Buck has been living in NYC. He’s been working at some art gallery and dating Abby and living with her in her fancy loft while she sculpts, but something happens and she still needs to go find herself, so off she goes to abandon our boy, who, after a couple of months, and some conversations with his friends, realizes she isn’t going to come back, and he sets off to start over. 

He basically throws a dart at a map, and it lands on El Paso, and so that’s where he packs his bags to go. He gets a job at a local bar, and rents a room in the back. He doesn’t think El Paso is going to be for him, so he’s just going to work a few weeks until he can figure out where he wants to go and has some more money saved up to get there.

He notices that every other night, a dark haired man comes in and orders a whiskey, neat and two beers. He sits alone and doesn’t talk to anyone except the girl who works at the bar with Buck at night (I’ve named her Desiree). To Buck, he seems kind of sad. 

One night, Desiree is off, and it’s Just Buck. The guy comes in and Buck brings him his whiskey without him having to order. The man tips his hat, and Buck smiles, but they don’t say anything. When he’s finished his whiskey, Buck goes back to him with his draft of Budweiser, and again he tips his hat, and Buck smiles. They don’t talk until Buck brings him last beer. 

“It’s Buck, right?”

“Uh, yea, how did you know?”

“Desiree is my cousin. She’s mentioned you a few times. Doesn’t like you very much.”

Buck laughs, “I didn’t think she did.”

“It’s your shoes. They’re too shiny, and she says you smell too nice.”

“How does someone smell too nice?”

“Girls here are just different than where you come from.”

“Everyone here is different than where I come from.”

And the man laughs so quiet Buck isn’t even sure he’s laughing, and then he holds out his hand, “I’m Eddie.”

“Nice to meet you.” Buck meets his hand, and it’s softer than Buck would have thought given his dirt stained jeans, and his small drawl, and the cowboy hat he never seems to take off his head. 

So, now whenever Eddie comes in, Buck waits on him, and as the customers dwindle down, Buck ends up sitting in the corner booth with him, and they talk. About New York mostly, about Abby and art, Eddie’s son, and how Buck thinks he might do better in Austin if he was going to stay in Texas. 

“If you change your mind, and want to stay,” Eddie says one night, “I have a shed I converted to a guest house. I’d be more than happy to rent it out to you.”

Buck isn’t sure why, but the thought of Eddie wanting him to stay makes him feel good, and so he decides to take him up on the offer. He meets Eddie at his place one Sunday afternoon, which is this sprawling ranch, and a large, gray stucco house. Eddie shows him around the grounds.

“So, these are Greg and Elizabeth,” he says of two goats nosing at Buck’s shoes, “those are the three Rosies,” he points to three brown cows, “the chicken coop is in the back, but you’ll have to ask Christopher their names, because honestly, I don’t know. I think he keeps changing them.”

“All these animals are yours?”

“Uh, the goats and chickens, yes. One Rosie is a boarder, and the other two are ours until I find them somewhere else to go.” 

“Do you like rescue animals?”

“Sort of. I’m a large animal vet.”

“How did you not tell me this?”

Eddie shrugs and smiles this little half smile Buck has come to adore, “I don’t like talking about myself. And you love talking about yourself.”

“Do not.”

“You really do.”

Then Eddie shows him the shed/house, and Buck decides he’s going to stay there. Eddie also asks if during the day Buck wants to help out answering phones and stuff in the clinic.

Hilarity would ensue with Buck in his fancy sweaters and nice shoes trying to help wrangle the goats and the cows. Sweetness comes when he’s out feeding the chickens with Christopher, and eating sandwiches with him at the reception desk of the vet clinic. 

At some point, he starts wearing flannel shirts, and faded denim. Eddie even buys him his own cowboy hat the day he takes him out horseback riding. 

That same day, they sit by a creek, underneath a tree while their horses graze, and have a more serious conversation. Eddie opens up about his wife’s recent death, but how they had been on the rocks for a while, and Eddie thought maybe they were going to work things out, but she said she didn’t want to and then she had an accident in town. 

Buck doesn’t think he’s crazy when Eddie puts Buck’s hat back on his head and he feels this electricity as they stare at each other, close enough to smell what the other had for breakfast on their breath. He thinks maybe Eddie is going to kiss him, but he doesn’t. And it leaves him disappointed. 

So, of course. with the two of them on this precipice of something, Abby comes back! 

She finds out where Buck is, and goes down to Texas. It’s a Saturday night, and Buck is working at the bar, and it’s a little bit busy, but Christopher is staying the weekend with his aunt and cousins, and Eddie is down there, and between serving Buck lets Eddie try and teach him to line dance, and they shoot a round of pool that lasts forever because Buck keeps having to go work, but it doesn’t matter, because he is having the best time, and he’s seeing Eddie laugh with his whole face, and he knows, he just knows he is falling in love with this man, and only hopes he’s falling in love back. 

They are literally just about to kiss in a dark corner when Buck sees Abby in the middle of the bar, and says her name. He doesn’t forget Eddie is there, but he kinds forgets Eddie is there and walks over to her, gives her a hug.

“What are you doing here?”

“I missed you too.”

“Can we talk?” she asks, “are you busy?”

“I’m working, but I can take a minute; here.” He leads her to a small booth and slides in across from her.

“Look,” she starts, “I’m not sorry I left, because I had to. I was feeling suffocated.”

“By me?”

“No, well, yes, but not you. Just my life, and you happened to be a part of that. I needed to get lost to find myself again.”

“And did you?”

“Yes.”

“It’s been five months, Abby. I left us. I left New York; I started over.”

“I see that. Kind of a weird choice.”

“I like it.”

Because he likes Eddie. 

Shit. Eddie. Buck looks around the bar and sees that he’s gone, and he doesn’t blame him for bailing. He looks back at Abby; at the beautiful curve of her face, her bright green eyes that still pop through the lenses of her glasses. He remembers what it felt like to kiss her lips, and feel her hands through his hair. He never loved anyone the way he loved Abby - she was the first real thing in his life, but he knows now, that Abby never loved him the way he deserved.

“Buck?”

“Thank you for coming here to explain yourself.”

“I was kind of hoping I could talk you into coming to New York with me.”

“Nah, I’m good here. I’ve got all these flannel shirts now, and the concrete would just kill these boots.”

Abby laughs, “not to mention the cowboy.”

“What cowboy?”

“The one that’s been staring at us like he’s ready to pull my hair.”

Buck looks to where Abby is nodding and he wonders how the hell he missed Eddie sitting there.

“Yea, and the cowboy.”

She smiles and kisses Buck on the cheek as she gets up to leave. Buck waits a few seconds until she’s walked out the door and saunters over to Eddie with a woeful look on his face. He sits on the barstool next to him 

“I’m sorry about that,” he says.

“Oh, you’re sorry for dropping me like a dirty rag as soon as you saw your ex-girlfriend? Or is she still your girlfriend?”

“No. She’s my ex. There’s uh, there’s someone else I’m kind of interested in.”

“Anyone I know? It’s a small town after all.”

“I think you may be familiar with him.”

“Him? That could be a dangerous thing here.”

“I like a little bit of danger.”

Eddie smiles, “what time do you get off?”

“About another hour.”

“Hmmm, I’ll come back and pick you up.”

Eddie tips his hat and leaves the bar, and Buck thinks the last hour of his shift drags on forever, but finally he’s cashed out and collected his tips and he goes outside to find Eddie sitting in his truck. Buck gets in, and they drive out past the town lights, past his ranch, almost right up to the border to Mexico, and park. 

Buck feels like he’s in a country song as the radio hums in the background and Eddie leans over the console to touch his fingertips to Buck’s chin and pull him towards himself to give him a soft, slow kiss. 

It’s the best kiss Buck has ever had, and he can’t help but smile the entire time. It’s the beginning of what Buck knows is going to be the rest of his life. 

#buddie #911 fox #mj free writes #buddie fic #country eddie #east coast buck #one day i'll give it the proper treatment it deserves #long af #and i didn't cut it #omg i'm so sorry

[captainsassmanes]

Here’s my Malex remix gift for @cosmicclownboy! I took a little bit of your meta, some of the small things you like (Alex + leather, yes please!) and created this drabble. I hope you enjoy :) 

Open Up My Eager Eyes

“You’re either cruel, stupid or a bit of both.”

Michael huffed out an unamused laugh and rolled his eyes as he brought the rim of his beer glass to his lips. Kyle didn’t move, his smirk and raised eyebrow still perfectly in place.

“Not that I give a shit but,” Michael sighed and turned in his seat, “what exactly are you talking about?”

Contrary to what was probably popular opinion, Michael wasn’t stupid. He was well aware that the only time he and Kyle exchanged more than a passing nod, the topic was always the same.

Alex.

“There’s no way,” Kyle said leaning against the bar top, his bicep flexing in his perfectly fitting denim jacket, “that you haven’t noticed what Alex has been doing.”

Michael smirked and shrugged, helpless against the urge to rile Kyle up. “What’s he been doing, Doc?”

Shaking his head, Kyle threw back the rest of his beer, smacking his lips before standing and tossing a few bucks on the bar.

“Alex has been sad and lonely for way too long. You and I both know the man’s incredible and deserves the best so,” Kyle smiled as he pulled out his keys. “Tomorrow night, Isobel and I are taking him to Planet 7.”

Michael’s façade fell with no hope of keeping it in place. His cheeks paled and he swallowed past the panic rising in his throat. If the smile on Kyle’s face was any indicator, he knew his words had hit their target.

“He might not find Mr. Right at the club but Mr. Good Enough for Tonight will probably be there.” He clapped Michael on the shoulder before heading out the door, arrogant swagger followed like a cloud.

Michael was frozen, brain sifting through too many thoughts at once. Why was this always happening? Why were they always on two different paths when he was so desperate to be right next to Alex? He figured he’d had time after Alex and Forrest fizzled out, do the awkward acquaintance thing then move into friendship then -

“If I were you-”

“Jesus Christ!” Michael jumped, hand moving to his chest as he caught his breath. He was so lost in his own thoughts he didn’t notice when Rosa had taken the seat next to him.

She just laughed. “If I were you, cowboy, I’d show up at the club and tell him how I felt.”

“How I’m – “

“We all know you’ve been in love with each other forever. You’re just too stubborn to deal with your shit and communicate. You people keep claiming to be adults, but I just see one idiot after another.”

“Ouch,” Michael chuckled, giving Rosa a playful push. He sighed, pulling on his hat and digging out a few bucks. “I’ve messed up so many times for so many years. I guess, if I were him, I’d probably tell me to fuck off.”

“Nah,” Rosa stood, heading back to her friends. “Just be honest. Talk, for god’s sake.” She put her fingers to her lips and then shoved her kiss aggressively against Michael’s cheek with a wink.

Talk, Michael thought. Easier said than done.

***********

It took Michael longer to get ready than he’d planned. No one seemed to realize it, but it took a considerable amount of time and effort to get his curls to fall just the right way. He showered, shaved, fixed his hair and tried on every shirt he owned. Ultimately, he went with his usual style: jeans, clean white t-shirt and a relatively new purple, long-sleeved flannel.

The night air was cool, whipping his hair in front of his eyes as he drove to the club. In his many years living in Roswell, Michael never visited Planet 7. He didn’t know why. He certainly wasn’t ashamed of his sexuality, though he wasn’t walking around with a pride pin on his chest, either.

There was a first time for everything.

He parked the truck and took a few deep breaths, tapping nervously against the steering wheel. Michael watched as more than a few very attractive people walked in and out of the door. He’d been so focused on the environment, how he’d fit into the club, what he’d say to Alex, that he forgot Alex would be here, looking gorgeous he had no doubt, surrounded by other gorgeous, and horny, people.

“Just be honest. Just talk.” Michael repeated his new mantra to himself as he walked into the noise and flashing lights. He did his best to kiss the wall, wanting to survey the scene before diving right in. He’d planned an entire speech for Alex, practicing parts of it over and over again in his tiny mirror while he fought with his hair. Michael found the bar and ordered himself a beer, nodding politely at the blonde with the bright smile who handed him the bottle.

Across the room, highlighted in shades of pink and purple from the lights, Alex sat at a table by himself. He had a small smile on his face though Michael could tell, even from so far away, that it was laced with sadness. He followed Alex’s eyes and watched as Isobel and Kyle danced drunkenly with a small group, laughing and smiling, hands and drinks everywhere. Kyle waved Alex over, trying to get him to join in, but Alex just smiled wider and shook his head, taking a sip of his drink.

He looked stunning. Alex’s hair had gotten long and he’d let some facial hair grow around his perfect mouth. A blue t-shirt emphasized the shape of his chest and his arms and, Michael noticed with a flush to his cheeks, a leather jacket was thrown carefully over the back of his chair.

He shouldn’t be alone, Michael’s brain supplied as he felt a wave of confidence and a pure need he had been ignoring for too long.

Moving across the dance floor, Michael did his best to move between the sweaty, dancing bodies, his eyes never leaving Alex. He stood in front of Alex, whose eyes lifted, and jaw slightly dropped. Michael offered his hand with a serious look on his face.

“Dance with me.”

Alex placed his drink on the table and slid his hand into Michael’s, strong hands holding one another. They found their own space, as far from the crowd as they could go, as a slower song played through the speakers. Michael slid his arm around Alex’s back, fingers finding bare skin beneath the soft cotton. His other arm moved slowly between Alex’s muscled shoulder blades, pulling with a desperation at the neck of the shirt. Alex hesitated for just a second, seeming to process what was happening. His hands moved up Michael’s chest, arms coming to rest once they were wrapped around Michael’s neck, one hand moving into those chestnut curls where his fingers couldn’t stop running through the strands. They rounded into one another, practically becoming one. Their faces rested in the crook of the others neck, both taking deep breaths and closing their eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Michael whispered, breath tickling the shell of Alex’s ear, causing goosebumps to race down his neck. “I was terrified.”

“Of what?” Michael thought, if he could taste Alex’s voice, it’d be sweet like berries in summer.

“I can’t mess this up again, Alex. I think it’ll kill me.” He felt Alex nod in understanding, hair brushing against his cheek. Alex stood straight to meet his gaze. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for weeks. You just seemed to – “

“I know.” Michael said, eyes squeezing shut from embarrassment. “I knew what you were doing, and I wanted to talk, to start over, so badly. I just kept picturing messing it up or you walking away, and I couldn’t - “

“I’m not going anywhere this time, Michael. I’m right here.” Alex’s hand moved to Michael’s face, thumb dragging gently across his stubbled jaw.

Michael’s shoulders relaxed and his chest lost some of its tightness as a calm washed over him. Alex rested his forehead against Michael’s as his slid his thigh between the other man’s legs, both hands returning to the curls he never seemed to get enough of. “I’m not going anywhere, Michael.”

Michael sighed and pulled Alex closer, their bodies moving with the music, lost in their own world while the universe spun around them.

“I forgot what this felt like,” Michael laughed, rubbing his nose against Alex’s. Alex smiled and asked, “what?”

“Happiness.”

#malexrem #malex remix 2021 #cosmicclownboy #my fic #drabble #roswell new mexico

[ladyanaconda]

Helluva Dad Vol. 4: Spring Broken

Bombproof just had to get a cold; it was nothing serious, but he'd need to rest for a few days, meaning that Striker and Jake would have to ride the I.M.P. van to get to work. It might have been a more-or-less intriguing experience if not for the radio music playing at full volume and Blitzo's careless driving. Striker spent most of the ride covering his ears while Jake was peering through the window alongside Millie.

This is why he'd rather ride Bombproof to work.

"Daaad! Can we ride the van with uncle Blitzo more often?!"

"Over my corpse!" Striker shouted over the noise. "Get away from the window, boy! The last thing I want is you losing your head!"

"But it's so fresh out here, dad!"

"Now!"

Jake groaned and went to sit next to his father with an unhappy scowl on his face. "Killjoy."

"Is this your first time riding a van?" Millie asked curiously.

"No, it's my first time riding a van with a crazy driver!" Striker banged on the wall separating the back with the driver's seat. "Hey, Blitz, can't you go any faster?!" he snapped sarcastically.

Jake's face had gained a somewhat greenish hue and his arms were clutching his stomach. "Dad, I think I'm gonna hurl!" he groaned.

"Kiddo, whatever you do, don't hurl on the carpet or Blitzo will deduct it from this month's paycheck! If anything, hurl on Moxxie's fanny pouch!"

"Hey!"

The van making an abrupt turn to get into the parking lot was the last straw for Jake. As he rushed towards the window, the vehicle came to a sudden stop and skidded. Jake would have flown out of the window if Striker hadn't grabbed him by the tail, but the vomit went up to Jake's stomach, all the way to his throat, and flew out of his mouth.

"Are you okay, my boy?" Striker asked, concerned, as he cradled the impling in his arms.

"I hate vans," Jake grumbled, earning a hair ruffling from his father.

"Listen up, you unoriginal pink cum dump! You have three goddamn seconds to get your tampon race car out of my parking spot…!"

Blitzo's voice brought the stunned group out of their daze. Striker stomped out of the van, intending to pummel Blitzo for the awful experience, but stopped in his tracks as he saw the cause of the problem. A pink car had parked on I.M.P.'s only parking spot. And the owner of the car was none other than…

"Oh shit! Verosika!"

The succubus didn't seem to hear him or didn't care. She was seething with rage, her face dripping with vomit. Jake flinched when her eyes fixed on him.

"I should have known you'd be here. I could smell fish for miles, which is odd because I believe the nearest ocean is…" Blitzo fell off the van's cabin, faceplanting on the ground. "Three rings down!"

Verosika outright ignored Blitzo this time and stomped her way towards the van. Jake hid behind his father.

"You little brat-!"

"Whoa, whoa, hold your horses, miss!" Striker stood to his full height. The succubus was taller than him, but he never faltered. "My boy didn't to… Well, throw up in your face."

"You should be grateful! You got a facial treatment for free!" Blitzo sneered. Verosika looked like she'd snap at any moment, but she merely huffed and wiped the vomit from her face with a napkin, which she then threw at Blitzo's face.

"I suppose you're the fella who spawned that brat, am I right?" She asked, uninterested.

"I'm the boy's father, that's right." Striker nodded. Is it just him or is the succubus eyeing him eye to toe behind her sunglasses?

"You ought to teach that little spawn of yours some manners, cowboy." Verosika purred the last word in a seductive manner, running her hand down Striker's chest, leaning a bit too close for his liking.

Thankfully, Blitzo got in between them. "I'm surprised they let your fat ass out of rehab," he growled. "I can see you're still a drunken whore, clutching unto that beelze juice bottle like it's the last cock in Hell!"

"They let me out because I'm still famous, and rehab is for sad, loser wash-ups." Verosika took a sip from her flash, sneering as she wiped some drops left on her lips. "So, your sister says hi." Jake made a 'burned' hiss. Striker gave him a stern frown.

"Why are you parking here?! This is the only parking spot my company has, so take your tampon race car somewhere else!"

"Um, Blitz…" Jake pointed at the ground. I.M.P.'s name was crossed out in purple spray paint while Verosika's was written in cursive letters.

The succubus smirked. "I'm doing a bit of freelance for one of the infinitely more successful companies in the building…"

"Dad, who's that nasty woman?" Jake asked.

Loona gasped as if the impling has just spoken blasphemy. "Wait, you don't know about Verosika Mayday?"

"Not exactly. I mean, I've seen her in dad's porno magazines, but-" Jake quickly covered his mouth, but it was too late. He laughed nervously when his father stared at him in shock. "Just to clarify, dad, I didn't read. I skipped!"

"I'll talk with you about this later." Striker hissed.

Thankfully, an angry yell from Blitzo distracted them from the argument. "I wasted so much time with a bag of holes like that."

"You know Verosika Mayday?!" Loona asked, incredulously.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, her. Yeah, we dated."

"That explains a lot of things." Striker murmured as Millie and Moxxie stepped out of the van.

"Was it before or after she became a pop star?"

"You dated a pop star?!"

Blitzo frowned. "Okay, why are you all acting like that's such a shock?"

"Hello, it's Verosika Mayday?" Loona pointed out.

"It's you?" Jake added dryly.

"I just… Is she blind? Suffering some form of brain damage? I mean, it'd make sense if she had dated Striker."

The cowboy rolled his eyes. "Gee, thank you, Moxxie, but she's not my type."

"Okay, look, you are all making this into a way bigger deal than it needs to be." Blitzo crossed his arms. "I don't pry into your stupid personal lives."

"You do that all the time, sir!"

"Come on, you kinda do that."

"You totally do that."

"Do I have to remind you all the times I've nearly shot you for sneaking into my house at two in the morning?!" Striker snapped.

"So…" Jake grinned mischievously. "What was sex with her like?" He yelped in pain when his father gave him a smack in the back of the head.

*HB*

Jake didn't quite understand what the fuss was about. From what Millie and Loona said, Verosika Mayday was a musical pop star, but dad wouldn't let him listen to her music; when questioned as to why he couldn't, all dad said was that it was for 'adults'.

In the end, Striker managed to distract his son via target practice. Millie would place an apple on her head so Jake could shoot it with the crossbow; Striker was quite surprised that she wasn't frightened in the least.

"Hey, Blitz, what did you do to Verosika Mayday for her to hate your guts like that?" Striker questioned casually.

"It was nothing, really! I merely borrowed her credit card when she was still sleeping and went to Wrath to take horse riding lessons!"

"Well, no wonder she's so mad."

"Hey, you're supposed to be on my side."

Striker shrugged. "Sorry, but you're on your own when it comes to relationships."

The door slammed open, startling Jake into shooting the arrow a few inches down, but Millie caught it with a hand. Moxxie looked disheveled, and his face was covered in lipstick marks. All he said was that he needed to lay down as he dropped to the floor. Millie went to check on him.

"What happened to Moxxie?" Jake asked. Striker shifted uncomfortably.

"Let's say that he received too much love," he murmured.

"But it wasn't from Millie, she's right here."

"Oh, Strikeeer!" Blitzo sang as he leaned in closer to the cowboy with a wide, exaggerated smile. "Do you know what's the best part of being the employee of the month?"

"Let me guess: to do you personal favors so you won't have to face your shitty issues yourself?"

"Bingo! I was wondering if you could use your… natural charm," Blitzo quirked his eyebrows coyly. "To have that bitch give back our parking spot."

Striker dropped Moxxie's cup of coffee. "What?"

"You know, a little bit of sweet-talking, flirting. Maybe some oral sex-"

"I know what you mean, Blitz! What I mean is why me."

"Well, you're a ladies' magnet. I don't think you'd have trouble convincing a drunken slut to give you all of her assets."

Striker wasn't sure of how Blitzo always, always, manages to convince him to do that kind of stuff, but in the end, he agreed to try 'without' having to recur to sex. He didn't need to go far, as the band of succubus had taken the vacant offices right in front of I.M.P. Well, no wonder Blitzo was so mad! Meeting up with your ex and finding out you'd have to be in the same building for a bloody week wasn't pleasant.

Striker took a deep breath and stepped into the room. Apparently, the succubus band was still making fun of Moxxie's probably tiny dick. They went silent as soon as he came in.

"Well, look who it is."

"Greetings, miss Mayday." Striker tipped his hat for the sake of courtesy. "I suppose I don't need to explain why I'm here."

"Want a kiss, cowboy?" one of the incubi got a little too close to his liking, prompting Striker to point the barrel of his pistol right at the demon's face.

"Put a hand on me and I'll put a bullet in-between your eyes." the imp hissed, tail rattling.

"Oh, look! His tail is like a baby rattle!"

"Hey, did that cute little impling come with you? I want to eat him with kisses!"

This time, Striker pulled out his angelic pistol. "Leave the boy out of this," he growled, expression dark. The sight of the weapon scared the succubi into silence, all but one.

"Well, well, you certainly have more balls than the little guy with the bowtie." Verosika purred, hips swaying as she approached him. "Too bad I already got a bodyguard, 'cause you look like you'd be good at that." she gently pushed the barrel of the pistol aside with a finger, leaning dangerously close to Striker's face. "I suppose Blitzo is still throwing a tantrum over the parking spot, right?"

"That's right, ma'am." Striker stepped back warily, putting his pistol away. "Perhaps we could reach an agreement, considering that…"

He's dealt with succubi before, but never in such a personal manner. Not ever since… Striker knew what was happening when he realized he had been cornered against the wall. Verosika's hands lay on his chest as she leaned in close to his face. His tail rattled uncontrollably. His bottom tightened at the she-devil's enticing aura.

"An agreement, you say?"

"Y-Yes…" Striker cursed himself for stuttering.

Verosika pulled him closer by the waist, licking her lips. "You have such alluring eyes, cowboy. Reminds me of an anaconda hypnotizing her prey…" Striker grabbed her wrist before she could reach for the zipper of his pants. Verosika laughed, running her other hand down the line of his neck. "Let me kiss you…"

Her lips were inches away from Striker's when she heard a click and something pressing against her stomach: the blessed pistol, firmly held in the imp's hand.

"Nice try, sugar, but my heart already belongs to someone else." Striker sneered. Impressed, Verosika stepped back, smirking.

"Not bad, cowboy. Not everyone can resist my charms. Just for that, I'm offering you a deal."

"A deal?"

"A demon duel. I bet you and Vlitzo's sorry company can't off as many people as we can fuck by the end of the day. If you win, I'll return your parking spot. If I win," Verosika whispered into Striker's ear. Whatever she told him sent shivers down his spine.

Reluctantly, Striker looked up at the succubus, fists clenched. "Game on, bitch."

*HB*

"Alright, shut your assholes, here's how we're going to do this shit. First, we find a fuck ton of clients, we portal up, we have our fun murder time as per usual, we pill all the bodies into a big fucking canoe…" Striker didn't pay attention to the rest of Blitzo's ranting, instead distracting himself by polishing his angelic rifle. "Do you have any questions?"

Jake raised a hand. "What does orgy mean?"

Striker spat his mouthful of coffee right into Moxxie's face while the others exchanged nervous glances. Blitzo cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Let's say it's something you aren't supposed to know about for at least ten years. Now-"

"Where did you learn that word?!" Striker all but yelled, grabbing the impling by the shoulders.

"One of Verosika Mayday's songs is called 'Orgy' and I got curious."

"And where did you hear the song?"

"Loona was listening to it." Striker glared at the hellhound, but she merely shrugged.

"What? It's just a song. By the way, think I can come with you guys this time?"

"Absolutely not," Blitzo said, crossing his arms disapprovingly. "I forbid it. Not gonna happen. Sorry, sweetie. Spring break is no place for vulnerable goth girls. You know the kind of freaks yup there who'd drool all over you!"

"Well, I can blend in with humans easily enough. Just let me tag along."

Blitzo blinked. "Wait, say that again?"

"I can blend in…?"

"Do you have a human disguise?" Millie inquired.

"Yeah. Don't you?" Loona widened her eyes in realization. "Wait, you five have been screwing around on Earth this whole fucking time without human disguises?!"

"What if we did?" Jake asked.

"Let's say it's against the rules to be seen by humans in our real forms."

"Okay, new plan!" Blitzo made a new, crudely-made scribble. "Loonie can help lure the humans to us and we'll take care of the rest. Okay, how about that?"

"Flawless logic."

"There's one little detail. We need enough client killing demands to win this bet so I won't have to-" Striker trailed off as he recalled that Jake was listening. He cleared his throat. "How will we get so many clients in such little time?"

Blitzo grinned. "I got that covered, Strike."

*HB*

Basically, Loona just lured the people on the list to a secluded spot so they could kill them without anyone noticing. Jake still couldn't believe how hot Loona looked in human form.

Jake was sure that something was bothering his father. Ever since he returned from talking with Miss Mayday, Dad acted a bit… edgier than usual. He didn't tease Moxxie as often and focused more on killing the targets. But what gave him away was the fact that he was using the blessing-tipped rifle rather than the regular one. He only uses it when there's something on his mind.

By evening, they had killed twelve people, two offed by Jake with a broken bottle.

"That's twelve kills in the back!" Blitzo laughed as they continued to put the bodies into bags. "I'd like to see that waily snatch orgasm that many…"

"All right, spring breakers! Ya'll ready to get fucked up and make some bitchin' bad choices?!"

The group glanced in the direction of the nearby stage adorned in black and pink just as Verosika stepped out of the smoke in her own human disguise. All the humans on the beach roared in excitement as the concert began. Jake noticed something odd in their behavior. Once Verosika started to sing, they-

Something covered his eyes. "Hey!"

"You're not supposed to watch this, Jakey!" Millie cried out hurriedly. Striker gave her a thankful look.

"Goddammit! That bitch started her goadish mating call! Now she's gonna win all those sex maniacs! We gotta pick things up, guys! He's on the list, Loonie?"

"Huh? Y-Yeah… I-I think so." Striker realized that Loona hadn't even looked at the supposed target. Her attention was focused on Verosika's own hellhound.

"Blitz, I don't think-" Too late. Blitzo had already sliced through the human's skull.

"All right, next one, Loonie, come on." No reply. "Loonie? Wait, where-" Blitzo panicked once he realized Loona was nowhere to be seen. "Where's my baby?!" Striker merely pointed towards Verosika's hellhound. There she was.

"And… We've lost him." Moxxie sighed as Blitzo stomped his way towards the hellhounds.

"Can't blame him. I wouldn't like any guys sniffing 'round my daughter either." Striker murmured. "Anyhow, looks like we'll have to handle the rest of the list."

Millie laughed in excitement. "Hell yeah! Team MMSJ getting shit down!"

Jake wanted to help with the killing spree, but his father put him on a table behind some beer barrels, blindfolded him with his red scarf, and firmly told him to wait for him there. So the impling sat there with a big pout on his face, arms crossed. What's up with dad today?!

"Yeah, party!"

The table was knocked over without warning. Jake fell face flat onto the ground. "Ow! What the…?!"

"Eeww! Oh my god! Fucking possums!"

"Wait, what?" Jake lifted the blindfold and realized the humans had seen him. Before he could try to escape, he was grabbed by the tail and shoved into a barrel of beer.

"Ow! Jake?!"

"Moxxie?! What's going on?!"

"I don't know, I think the humans mistook us for opossums!"

The two imps were thrown about within that confined space, sometimes getting submerged under the beer. They accidentally ended up taking big gulps of the alcoholic beverage.

*HB*

"That boy is in so much trouble!"

He gives him one simple instruction: wait at the table. Then he returns ten minutes later to find Jake and the table gone.

"Hey, Mildred! Have you seen Jake 'round here?" Striker asked Millie as soon as he saw per peering into a barrel.

"He and Moxxie are inside one of these barrels!"

"What? What the fuck are they doing in there?!"

One of the nearby barrels wobbled. Striker tipped it over with a kick, spilling out the remaining beer as well as two familiar imps.

"Moxxie!"

"Jake!"

"Millieee!" Moxxie blurted out in a drunken state. "Hey, when did you get four heads? I wanna kiss 'em!"

"Jake? Are you okay, kiddo? Striker grabbed his son by the shoulders. "Answer me, boy!"

"Hey, daddy! The impling said in-between hiccups." "This water's soo tasty! Can I have more?"

Striker rubbed his temple. "Wonderful. My kiddo's drunk and he's only nine."

"Chill out, cowboy! Just don't tell Striker 'cause he'll make a fuss!" Moxxie giggled.

Striker would have made a fuss if not for the massive sea monster that emerged from the ocean. A loud roar sent most of the humans running away from the beach, but Moxie and Jake were completely unfazed.

"Oooh, fishy! Can I keep it, daddy?"

A long, slippery tongue wrapped around Moxxie and Jake as they were pulled into the monster's mouth.

Striker and Milli exchanged determined nods. The former shot a nearby human to take his bottle and make a molotov cocktail, which he threw at the monster. The explosion was enough to make the creature fall. The imps swam towards the mutant fish, digging their respective knives into its hide just as it got back on its feet. They managed to climb towards the mouth and pry the jaws open; Moxxie and Jake, still in the tongue's grasp, were clumsily punching the monster's uvula. Millie reached out for their hands, but instead of clasping it, the drunken imps merely gave her a high-five.

"Oh, for the love of…!" Losing his patience, Striker went into the mouth and sliced the tongue off. The fish shrieked in pain and spat out the severed organ, and its two captives, with it.

However, the abrupt movement slipped the angelic rifle off Striker's shoulder and sent it down the beast's throat. "Oh, no, you don't! Mildred, think you could keep this thing busy?!"

"Striker, what are you doing?!"

The cowboy took out his knife. "I'm gonna retrieve my weapon."

*HB*

Millie and Striker swam back to the beach, both panting heavily. The latter was covered in the creature's blood after slicing open its entrails, his rifle held tightly in one hand and the bloodied knife in the other. They reunited with Blitzo, Moxxie, and Jake on the shore.

"Oh, yeah, way to show off, guys!· Blitzo cheered.

"Are Mox and Jakey okay?" Millie asked.

"Oh, yeah. They're fine." Blitzo looked down at the still-drunken imps in his arms and dropped only Moxxie to the ground.

Thankfully, Jake had fallen asleep; his young age made him less tolerant of the heavy alcoholized state. Striker carefully took the boy in his arms.

"Aww, they grow up so fast!" Blitzo chirped, teary-eyed, as he watched Jake snuggle in his father's embrace.

Sadly, the relief didn't last long as Verosika and her crew approached.

"That was handled rather… Obvious, don't you think?" Verosika sneered.

"You know, I found this," Striker held up a black and silver flask decorated with hearts. "While slicing through that creature's entrails," he smirked. "And I know for certain that it doesn't belong to any of us." That said, he tossed the flask back to its owner.

"Would be a shame if anyone found out you guys were behind a giant monster fish in the human world." Millie sneered.

"Oh satan! You all be so… fucked! Haha…!" Moxxie laughed in his drunken stupor.

Verosika was taken aback by the realization that they were right. "Yeah, well, you five nasty ass gremlins will be in shit for not being in disguises." she countered.

"A human called me a possum. I'm not a possum!" Moxxie collapsed face-first into the ground.

"And given that the humans who saw us were in a deep alcoholic intoxication state, they'll probably think it was a product of their imagination." Striker added with a sneer of his own.

Blitzo chuckled. "You know, we could keep this little Bee movie scene on the down-low if you agree to let us use that parking space." Striker nearly laughed at the sour, almost childish scowl on the succubus's face. She was against the ropes and she knew it.

·...Fine."

While the others cheered at their victory, Striker merely sighed in deep relief.

"Hey, Strike, now that we're on it, what did that bitch say you'd have to do if we lost?" Blitzo asked later that day.

Striker's only response was a loud slurping sound with a straw as he enjoyed a well-deserved meatshake.

#helluva boss #helluva dad #helluva dad au #helluva boss striker #striker helluva boss #helluva boss blitzo #helluva boss moxxie #helluva boss millie #helluva loona #verosika mayday #helluva boss ocs #one shot #helluva boss fanfiction

[wyn-n-tonic]

Golden, Like Daylight -- Part II

Word Count: 1,846 Warnings: References to drug use. PTSD. Ben Affleck. As always, if I forgot anything please message me and I'll amend this warning. A/N: Protect Francisco Morales at all goddamn costs, honestly. 

MASTERLIST | PART: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX

“Fish?”

He cringes inward at his military nickname, it rips at his heart hearing it drip from his best friend’s mouth now. This man he would die for, almost has died for. None of the others had called him that in years, he insisted on Frankie with them. But he’d barely heard from Santiago, had no way of telling him.

He hears the words he’s saying, same shit he always says:

“I need a pilot. I can’t do this thing without you."

Years of that shit pulling him into another tour here. A deployment there. Again and again. Long after he served his sentence and was free to go.

“I don’t know, man. I got the new baby now,” he beams. Santi didn't know Luna and all Frankie wanted to do was tell him about her but he holds back, opting instead for, “And my lady isn’t into my doing this kinda shit anymore.”

He looks back at Will, a knowing look exchanged between the two. He is begging for his brother to step in, say something. Save him. He’s throwing Leah under the bus but, fuck it, it’s true. She isn’t into him doing this kinda shit anymore. And she wasn’t the biggest fan of Santi, always coming up with shit to get the rest of the boys into.

“Wha—what does that mean?”

Frankie lets out a breath he feels like he’s been holding all day and stands, knowing he’ll start shaking if he doesn’t. The knee bouncing is getting out of hand but he was hesitant to seek out anti anxiety medication while detoxing. He’d just sweat it all out anyway. Santiago’s droning on behind him, hell bent on staving off rejection.

“Did you read the text? This can change you and that baby’s life forever.”

Leave it to Santi to exclude Leah, he wasn’t necessarily her biggest fan either. But to just gloss right over her? Didn’t even fucking ask Luna’s name.

He crosses his arms, “What happened to that bullshit about going back to your mother’s homeland and empowering the people to police themselves?”

Santiago stares him down, a power grab of a laugh escaping him.

“Anyway, I lost my license. I can’t even fly right now.” Please just drop it, please just drop it, please just drop it.

Benny’s wrapping his knuckles. William’s looking between the two. And Santiago? Santiago is closing the space between them.

“I don’t need a pilot with a license, I’m in with the army down there,” he says as if that makes things better. It doesn’t. He knows it, Frankie knows it, the Millers know it. But if there’s one thing Santiago Garcia gets, it’s his fucking way.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Frankie’s firm, he’s not fucking doing it this time. He’s worked too goddamn hard on everything. Built a life out of rubble and was this close to pissing it away, he’s not gonna seal the deal on Leah’s promise to go.

Santi paces, frustrated, “Lorea is destroying that country. So we get to take out a very bad man, and, oh, by the way, there’s a winning lottery ticket stuck to the bottom of your cowboy boot.” He says that last bit with a mock tone and he’s smiling, believing he’s got Frankie now. A bit of a tease to rile his best friend up, get him laughing, get him in it. “Every guy in that gym would jump at this.”

“Come on, focus, guys! It’s fight night.” —————

“Hey!” He catches up with Santi in the hall, “I didn’t mean to call your shit bullshit.”

He didn’t, really. He knows where Santiago’s coming from but he can’t be the one in the thick of it anymore.

Another of those cool, indignant laughs, “It's all right.”

“I got busted,” Frankie says coolly, like he’s letting you know he left the light on, “it’s not a big deal.”

Santi’s head snaps to the right.

“Actually,” the taller of the two continues, “It's a big deal.”

“Coke?” Santiago’s trying not to let Frank’s addiction shock him, scoffing, “Jesus, Frankie.”

“Technically, it’s a suspension, I’m still under review but… it fucked everything up with Leah. I’ve been detoxing in Will’s spare room for weeks.”

“You’re telling me she didn’t know before the suspension? I don’t buy that.” Frankie tried to ignore the venom in his words.

“No, she knew. We’ve been in couple’s counseling while I’ve been getting clean, she said she didn’t know it was as often as it was. Just thought it was a hit here and there.”

“So things are good still?”

Frankie takes a deep breath, “We seem to have gotten back to good but that’s not where I wanna be, Pope. I wanna be great.” He looks to Santi and then Will, “What about you? What are you gonna do?”

There was no doubt in the world where Benny stood. He’d follow Santiago into hell. He pretty much had on more than one occasion but Benny always was a wildcard. Will was too calculated for that bullshit, he needed a plan. He needed foundation under his feet, not just charisma and Frankie would follow him. Frankie owed him his life. Will was the one to convince Frankie to hang it up. The one putting a half dead Frankie in cold showers and pumping his fucking stomach on no sleep. Will was the one Leah called when Frankie got too close to the edge. His brother, Luna’s godfather.

“I said if Redfly’s in, I’m in.”

Fuck! Fucking Tom. Frankie takes his hat off, adjusts his hair. I fucking hate Tom. —————

“Tom is not in our wedding,” Leah glared down the kitchen island at Frankie, arguing again about the goddamn wedding party. She didn’t even want it anymore. Had thrown her hands up, on more than one occasion, and begged to just run down to the courthouse.

And it all circled back to Tom fucking Davis.

“We served together for ten years, Leah! It’s a bit fucked up to have the rest of the boys up there in tuxes, Tess as our flower girl and Tom is,” he flails his hands out, “Three rows back with that one coworker who brings you coffee every Friday.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d let Tom sit that close to the altar, Francisco Morales. And next to Alexa? She is my angel and Tom Davis will be nowhere near her, do you understand me?”

“Then marry Alexa, babe!”

Leah put her hands on her hips, “Bitch, I might.”

He breaks and laughs, lifting his hat to rub at his forehead, “What do you want me to tell him then? You have plenty of friends who could be a fourth bridesmaid.”

“How about you drop Benny too?” She shrugs, “Just keep Will and Santi and I’ll keep my sisters. Two and two.”

He throws the hat on the counter, “YOU LOVE BENNY!”

“You're right, baby,” she laughs, eyes bright. A challenge on the tip of her tongue. "Drop Santi.”

He charges after her, ready for her words, and chases her through the house. Their house. Still nowhere near unpacked after a month and he’s cursing the unintended obstacle course he’s laid out for himself. She’s making quick work of it but, fuck, he’s out of shape.

He runs up the stairs, back screaming with every step as he gains on her. It helps his legs are much longer than hers.

She makes it to the bedroom, spinning to close the door but he grabs her before she can, pinning her down with all his weight. She insisted on the nicest sheets they could find and almost never made the bed, preferring to fall right into the softness without much work.

He ran his hand down her body, drumming his fingers in a soft rhythm until he reached her thigh, hitching it over his hip.

Her heart was still racing from the chase but Frankie felt it tick upwards as he placed his lips on her neck.

“Francisco,” she whined, “we can’t do this right now. We have to do grown up things.”

He smiles into the soft skin, “this is grown up things.”

“You know what I mean.”

He looks up at her, “hmm…” He’s got her right where he wants her, none the wiser as he reaches down to her knee and—

“Frankie, what are you doing?” Her voice comes out an octave higher, panic in her eyes pleading with him not to when the corner of his mouth crooks upwards and—

He digs his fingers into the soft flesh at the bend of her knee, smile blown wide as she screams out like a hyena.

“Stop! Stop!” She laughs through labored breaths, “baby, it was just a joke.”

“You're not funny,” he lulls with a kiss.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” her eyes filled with hurt and conviction, “I'm hilarious so… ya know, jot that down.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“But Tom fucking Davis is not in our wedding or I swear to god, Francisco Morales, I will call the whole goddamn thing off. It is my day and I’m not having his big Irish head in my wedding photos for the rest of my life.”

He laughs again, “Fine. But what should I tell him?”

“Tell him I fucking hate him.”

“You don’t hate anybody, baby, I don’t think you’ve got that in your heart. Be serious with me, please. What do I tell him?”

“Tell him,” she thinks for a second, because she absolutely does have the capacity for hate in her heart, “that I can’t choose amongst my friends for a fourth bridesmaid and so I just want to keep the party small with only my sisters.”

He seems satisfied by that, nodding his head. “But I am keeping Santi.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“But…”

Her stare is like daggers, “I’m not talking about Tom anymore.”

“No. No, it’s not that,” he’s laughing, his life is all laughter now. “I just still think we should set Pope up with Kristyn.”

She’s pushing out from under him, sitting up for the higher ground. Her finger is in his face, her words are measured, “If Santiago Garcia even so much as looks at my little sister, I will do what so many have tried and failed to do before.”

“And what's that, sweetheart?”

“I will kill him.”

The whole bed is shaking with his laughter now, “You're right, baby, you’re hilarious.” —————

Will’s in front of them now, hands on his knees, “What's the verdict?”

Tom looks at Frankie, then to Will, “I'm in for the recce if you guys are.”

The world goes quiet, replaced by a high pitched ringing in Frankie’s ear as he downs the world’s shittiest beer.

Fuck.

“Fish?” Santiago’s voice cuts clear through, always had.

Frankie lowers the plastic cup, “When is it?”

“We leave Thursday.”

Fuck.

Again, he lets go of a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, staring off into the ring. Staring off at nothing and everything.

“Okay.”

This could change his family’s life forever.

Fuck.

TAGLIST: @justanotherblonde23 | @greeneyedblondie44 | @icanbeyourjedi | @notcookiebelle | @princess76179​ | @bbuckysbeardd​

#i believe in francisco morales supremacy #francisco 'catfish' morales #okay but frankie was actually baby #frankie morales #triple frontier #god i'm really posting another fanfic before bed and dipping i love y'all #fanfiction #pedro pascal #santiago 'pope' garcia #william 'ironhead' miller #benny miller #tom 'redfly' davis #charlie hunnam #oscar isaac #oc #ofc #original character #original female character #fanfic

[babbushka]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy

Flip Zimmerman x Reader

3k; N S F W (sex at the station/semi-public sex, spanking, nudity, rope, creampie, name calling, dirty talk, praise kink, rough fast and dirty PIV sex, fingering, titty fixation, desk sex, come feeding)

Part of the Flip Zimmerman NSFW Alphabet // Also available on AO3!

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

“I hate this.” Flip grumbles under his breath for what has to be the hundredth time, as Ron snaps another photo and winds up the film.

He’s down in the bowels of the CSPD, practically naked, wearing nothing but a pair of assless chaps and a cowboy hat, turning towards the camera and trying his damnedest to pose without looking like a total joke. Jimmy’s leaning against the wall of the impromptu photo studio, Ron’s got the camera and the lights all set up, and he hates this.

“No you don’t, or else you wouldn’t be doing it.” Jimmy points out with a little flick of ash off the butt of his cigarette, and he scowls, because despite Flip’s sour mood, Jimmy’s right. He agreed to this of his own volition, and he wasn’t backing out now.

“C’mon Zimmerman, it’s for a good cause.” Ron agrees in his practical cheerful way, and Flip shoots him a glare because he doesn’t need to be reminded that the whole of Colorado Springs is going to see his bare ass.

“Rookie I don’t care what it’s for, if (Y/N) sees me like this – ” He starts, exasperated for a moment, right when the door to this little studio opens, and in you walk.

“Sees you like what honey?” You ask, not looking up at him yet, fiddling with the door still to get it to close properly. Jimmy and Ron stifle a laugh awaiting your reaction, and they’re not disappointed when you finally do look up and see Flip standing there, cheeks out for the camera in his cowboy getup. Your eyebrows shoot up and a huge grin creeps across your face as you appraise him with, “Ohhhh like that.”

Flip blushes straight down to his belly button when you saunter up to him. He’s really naked, you’re surprised to see, he’s not got anything to cover up his cock at all. You glance around at where Ron and Jimmy are still chuckling into their palms as your husband sweats in front of you, and you kiss his cheek sweetly.

“Do you need me to leave? I can go flirt with the chief or something for a while.” You bat your lashes at him, making Flip roll his eyes and grumble to himself before getting his arms around you.

“No – for fuck’s sake, c’mere.” He scowls, grasping tightly at your waist, making you laugh as he pulls you flush to his hard-muscled stomach, your arms wrapping around his big broad shoulders.

“Is that a cattle prod or are you just happy to see me?” You grin, entirely too cheeky, and the boys burst into snickers.

Your mouth starts to water though, because though they can’t see with the way you’re pressed up against him, Flip’s cock really is big, and it’s hard and nudging at your thigh, a long thick line that makes you have to swallow hard. You want them to leave so that you can have your man all to yourself, so you can have that cock to yourself.

“I hate you.” Flip leans down to kiss you, brushes his nose against yours as his hands dig into the flesh right on your hips, holding you close.

“Mhm I can tell.” You smile against his lips, opening up your mouth for him, letting his tongue slide against yours as your fingers curl through the dark brown hair that’s so soft and so thick right at the nape of his neck.

You both lose yourself in one another so quickly, that you nearly forget that you’re at the station at all, forget that Ron and Jimmy are right there watching. You don’t mind, you don’t care if you’ve got an audience – let them look, as long as you’re getting your fill of your man, your husband.

“Take your top off!” Jimmy whistles playfully, and though you laugh, it snaps Flip out of kissing you and he turns around sharply to jab a finger in his best friend’s direction.

“Fuckin’ watch it.” Flip hisses, possessive enough that you can feel your pussy flutter, and Jimmy only puts his hands up in playful surrender.

You pull away from Flip for a little bit and he immediately turns back to face the wall so that his buddies don’t see the raging erection he’s sporting. He couldn’t even cover that thing with both his baseball mitts if he tried, not when it was hard like this.

“Mm, you know what’s missing?” You ask as you walk over to where you set your purse down by the door.

Jimmy and Ron only shrug and shake their heads, but then you fish out some red lipstick and apply it carefully to your mouth, before winking at them and going back over to where Flip’s waiting patiently for you to – kiss his ass?

You try your best not to smile as he turns around and glares at you for being such a pretty accomplice, as you press a smacking kiss right to his ass-cheek, the absolutely rock solid roundest most deceivingly firm cheek in the entire world, as you always said.  

“Oh now it’s a party.” Ron says with a handsome grin, and you weren’t sure that Flip could scowl any darker than he was in that moment, making you laugh.

“You know I knew you guys got creative with your undercover disguises but I’m not so sure this is the most workplace appropriate.” You dust off your knees and tease playfully, trying to get your Philly into a better mood. He was always so serious, all the time, he needed to lighten up a little so you wink, “Unless you’re going to a strip club, in which case, I better get to come.”

“No it’s – it’s a calendar, for charity. We’ve got to beat the fuckin’ firemen.” He huffs out, and ohh that explains it. Flip’s had beef with the fire department for as long as he’d been working with the station, you understood the stakes now.

“Everyone loves the shit out of sexy firemen.” Ron nods in agreement.

“Are you guys in it too?” You ask him, directing the question to Jimmy too, who smiles and pops his collar.

“You bet baby, Flip’s the last one we’ve got to shoot because he keeps putting it off.” Your friend explains and you turn your charms back onto your husband, grinning at how so completely Flip he could be.

“Aw be a good sport honey.” You go back over to him, slipping and sliding your hands all across his big firm pecs, getting him warmed up, getting him to melt.

“Maybe he just needs a little…motivation.” Ron asks with the camera ready, and Flip only groans, smacks a hand onto his face and shakes his head.

“I’m going to kill everyone here and then myself.” He’s joking of course, even though he says it with the straightest face possible. His cock is hard against your thigh once again, and you know exactly what’s going to get him to relax and be comfortable.

“What if you tied me up?” You whisper right in his ear, and oh how his cock jumps at the thought, the sight of you down at his feet, all wrapped up in pretty rope, like he’s just wrangled you down himself.

“There’s no fucking way I’m letting you be in this calendar, ketsl.” Flip growls, but you just grin.

“Who said anything about the calendar?” You ask, your hand sneaking a quick squeeze around his shaft and making his jaw clench, his eyes sparkle with excitement. He’s such an exhibitionist sometimes, it thrills you both.

You give him a couple seconds to think it over, and eventually he nods quickly, licks his lips and swoops down for a kiss.

“Hurry the fuck up and get these shots.” He says to Ron, letting you go and getting into the right pose once again.

You quickly get out of the way and Flip faces the wall, turning to look over his shoulder at the camera lens. He even lifts his hand and slightly tips his cowboy hat, and Ron takes as many shots as are left on the roll of film. You think that the addition of the little kiss mark is perfectly placed, right on his ass, right where you know so many women are going to lift the calendar up to their own lips and pretend they put it there.  

“Okay now scram, I missed my girl.” Flip immediately strikes up a cigarette, and Jimmy and Ron get the hint.

 The second that the door closes behind them, Flip’s on you like a bee on honey. He’s untying your halter top before you even know it, your nipples stiffening from the cool air of the room as he cups and grasps your breasts in his hands.

“Mmmmm I missed these, let me?” He asks, already getting down to their level, and you huff out a little laugh with how eager he is, how he’s already squeezing you tight.

“All yours cowboy.” You pick the cowboy hat right off his head and place it on top of yours, leaning back against a desk in the room. Flip follows your every move, eyes darkening with lust as he presses his face right into your cleavage, nuzzles his nose there and licks at one of your nipples.

“F-fuck.” He sighs out when he sucks the nipple into your mouth and you give a little moan in the back of your throat. He’s looking up at you and you’re smiling down at him through hooded lids, his cowboy hat too big on you and tipping forward, making his dick leak all over his stomach.

“You like that don’t you? Why don’t you fuck me really fast, do something with that hard cock of yours?” You scratch your nails across his scalp, making him shudder and groan as he lets go of your breast with one hand to start stroking himself off.  

“You want it? Want this big dick?” He bites and licks at his lip as your tits press right in his face, ribcage expanding with your deep breaths, pushing them out further. “Let me see, show me that pretty pussy.”

You’re good, real good for him, so you hike up your short skirt, showing him your underwear. He hooks a finger around the little scrap of cotton between your legs and tugs it aside, and he groans with how it sticks to you, how glistening and shimmering your cunt is.

From his spot down there on the floor, he pulls your nipple back into his mouth and gives it a good hard suck as he pushes two fingers inside your pussy. You have to lean back onto your elbows for support on the desk as you moan from the feeling, and Flip follows you, thrusting his fingers in and out.

“Oh shit you’re wet, listen to that, listen – hear how soaked you are already?” Flip presses his deep baritone against your stomach as he kisses your flesh, soft skin laid out on the desk for him as he stands up, leans over you and rubs the head of his cock through your folds. “That’s my fuckin’ come from earlier isn’t it? Slut, god you’re so good to me.”

You get a good look at him, at your husband’s well-groomed body, how he’s hairy enough but not too hairy, not covered in it the way some men prefer to be these days. His happy trail leads down to a neatly trimmed thatch of dark hair, hair that’s course and feels so good as it rubs against your pussy. 

“U-uh-huh, just for you, all yours, fuck me I can take it.” You know what he means, he’d fucked you when you came to visit him for lunch, had filled you up so much that you could almost feel it sloshing around in your cunt.

You wanted nothing more than to get fucked hard and fast right now, wanted to get tied up and bent over and spanked so hard that you’d see the print of his massive fucking palm for days.

He reads your mind because he’s stepping away for a minute, off to go get rope, off to go give you what you want. You flip yourself over and press your face against the desk, legs spread and feet apart, just the way he likes you.

Your heart is racing when you feel the coarse rope winding sloppily around your wrists, binding them together, giving him a good place to hold on as he roughly thrusts his cock straight into your wanting pussy. It’s easy, real easy, because you’re so used to him, had been so thoroughly fucked by him at lunch. His come squelches out around his cock, and he wastes no time fucking it back into you.

“Oh fuckin’ – ” He grunts out as he grinds his hips as close to yours as possible, just savoring the feeling for a moment.

“Ah – yes!” You gasp, your cunt drooling and dripping all over the floor where you’re bent over. Your mouth drops open and Flip takes that encouragement to roll his hips, pull out and thrust right back in.  

He fucks you hard, fast, just like you want, just like you asked. He wraps his hand around your hair and gives it a good tug, stretching your body and arching your back for him as your hands flex and clench around nothing, arms rendered useless by the rope.

His cock splits you right there on the desk, and you can’t help but moan loudly, moan out his name, little pleas of, “Oh, oh faster, Flip, honey – yesyesyes!”

He meets your every demand, and before you know it you’re crying out as his hand cracks down hard on your ass. Flip loves the way your legs shudder and twitch and shake, so he does it again, your cunt clenching down on his cock. He slaps your ass harder, pitches you forward on the desk from the force of it, and you should out his name, tears of pleasure flicking off your lashes.

“Shh, shh ketsl, you’re perfect but you gotta be quiet, shh.” He drapes his stomach across your back and covers your mouth with his palm as he goes back to thrusting inside you. He holds you like this, presses you down harshly against the desk as he rams into your pussy, your cunt taking his cock so well, the head of it nudging right against your gspot. Even with his hand over your mouth you’re still so loud, eyes shut tight, eyebrows drawn up in bliss. He licks his lips and shoves three fingers into your mouth to try and quiet you with, “Suck.”

“Mmmm – ah!” Your body jolts a little as he fucks you particularly right, right on that spot, thrusts over it again and again until you’re gasping and choking around his fingers, spit bubbling and stringing around your palm.

“Oh fuck, fuck you’re so good, so fucking tight.” He encourages as your cunt clamps down hard on him, not yet coming but close, so close, he can tell with the way you’re rocking back with every thrust he gives you, taking as much as you can, greedy greedy greedy.

“Your cock’s huge I’m – I’m oh!” You moan and whine and gasp when he pulls the hand away, using that wetness to push through your folds and rub fast fast fast at your clit, making your shoulder blades pinch back as your back arches and you gush on his cock, “Flip no fair, that’s – oh!!”

“Let me fuckin’ feel you ketsl, let me – jesus fuckin’ – oh my god.” He drops his head down onto your back as his orgasm crashes through him, his hips still moving, still seeking out the hot wet tight tight tight heat of your pussy as it spasms and flutters and throbs around him.

He dumps a fresh load of cum right into your cunt, the head of his cock so deep inside you that it’s practically knocking up against your cervix. He smooths his hand around to cup your pussy as he thrusts shallowly in you, feels how it moves inside your body and comes some more. He’s panting hot and heavy in your ear, as his cock pulses and fills you up to the brim, your pussy only able to take so much, the overflow already dribbling down the backs of your thighs when he pulls out slowly.

Flip loves watching your pussy flutter for him the minute you pull out, like your body is angry that he’s leaving you. He plugs you up with those fingers you were sucking on, fucks come back into you, loves the obscene sound it makes, the sticky wet squelch as he scoops it up off your thighs and feeds it to you.

You’re good, a good girl for him and you lick it off his fingers, that little cowboy hat perched on your head, driving him crazy. He plucks it off your head and puts it back on his own, unties the rope around your wrists and flips you onto your back so he can kiss you properly.

He’ll have to find something to wipe you both down with, and the desk, and the floor…but for now he takes his time kissing you until your breathing both evens out, until you’re sighing happy little whimpers against his lips. He cups and squeezes lightly at your breasts, kisses all over your cleavage when he pushes them together and makes you smile, blissed out real nice and hazy.

“Phil honey?” You ask, one of your hands rubbing idly at his shoulder, comforting and soothing.

“Mhm?” He asks from between your tits, making you giggle and sigh.

“When are we thinkin’ those calendars will be ready?” You ask with a cheeky wink, and he looks up at you, licks across his teeth with a little smile of his own, and kisses you once again.

And if everyone gives him wolf-whistles when he comes into the station a week later after the calendars have been printed, he doesn’t mind, because in the middle of it all, Ron had slipped him a couple photos of you with your arms all around him from before they left the room, and he can’t deny how good you look together.

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Tagging some pals :)  @steeevienicks @heldcaptivebychaos  @solotriplets @formerly-anonhamster @lookinsidemyhead @candycanes19 @adamsnacc-kler  @whiskey-bumblebee @magikevalynn @tinyplanet-explorers @chelsjnov @romancedeldiablo @helloimindelaware  @autumnlovesadam @peterisparker  @goodboybensolo  @the-marvelatic @miasera @emily-strange @proxyfoxy @disaster-rose @hazydespair @yosoymuyloca @1-800-choke-that-snoke @ktellmeastory @anongirl007 @zimmerxman @okk--maaan​ @flapjacques​ @aweirdlookingtree​ @callmemania-pls​ @theold-ultraviolence​ @og-selene​  @schopenhauerdeathsquad​ @nekonaomitard​ @feminine-machinegun​ @contesa-lui-alucard​

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