#𐚁

[motherbeysuniverseeee]

a face💋

[hvneybuckin]

art donaldson

cheating, subby art, handjobs, gn reader, art drools on reader, slight implication of a praise kink

18+. minors dni

587 words

Art loved tennis. Art adored tennis. Did he live for tennis? No. Well, yes, he did— but he didn’t do it for him.

Art’s main priority was always going to be his family. Always going to be Tashi. That’s why he pushed himself so hard. He felt as though he owed it to her. Tennis was her dream, and he was going to make it real.

However, even Art Donaldson— one of the best tennis players of his time— needed a break.

That break was you.

And after a particularly shitty match, he thought he deserved a rest.

So it’s really no surprise when he ends up in between your legs, back to your chest while your hand reaches around to tug on his leaking cock. “Is this good?” Your voice is nothing higher than a whisper, bitten lips from the makeout session from just moments before brushing against Art’s ear. “Yeah— yes, just…a little faster, please.”

So, you do what he asks; because how could you say no to him? And you’re glad that you obliged, the broken gasp that slips out of him sounding almost angelic to your ears. His head falls back to rest on your shoulder, eyes clamped shut.

Your fingerpad brushes past his angry, red tip, and Art thinks he might actually see heaven.

“You really needed this, yeah?”

Your tone is always so gentle whenever you’re with Art. As if anything above it could break him. He’s not quite sure if he likes it, but right now— the signs are pointing towards yes.

He nods in response, afraid that if he tries to speak, his voice will betray him.

“I know you did. Been so stressed lately, hm?” You pepper soft kisses all over his face, but never his lips, and the whine that escapes his mouth comes straight from a place of desire. “It’s okay, though. ‘M proud of you, my perfect boy.” Art’s hips jerk up at that, and it makes you giggle simply because he really is so sensitive. “Think ‘m gonna cum soon,” he whimpers into the skin of your shoulder. His words are slurred, and you can already tell he’s not all that much there anymore.

You take it upon yourself to stroke him faster, and you can hear how his breathing speeds up, gets heavier.

“Fuck.”

It comes out whiny and pathetic. He can’t be arsed to say anything else, but that one word does all the work for him. “‘S okay, you can cum for me, Art.”

That’s all it takes to push him over the edge, spurts of milky white shooting out of his cock and onto your hand. He’s babbling mindlessly, most of it coming out garbled— but what you do pick up is the many “thank you’s” and obscenities he spews.

After you let him ride his orgasm out, he’s actually really quiet. “Art? You still with me?” You whisper, looking down at his blissed-out face. A thin string of saliva connects his lips to your shoulder.

He was drooling.

He blinks his eyes open, and once he’s fully brought back to reality, he gives you one of the sweetest smiles you’ve ever seen. “Yeah.” You offer him a slight grin back, hand reaching up to brush some stray curly strands of hair away from his face. “Should we shower? Or would you prefer a bath?”

“…Can we just stay here? Like this?”

And right then and there, you think that maybe Tashi won’t mind if he doesn’t come home that night.

[cozymoko]

Wild, Wild West 𐚁

Introduction fic for my cowboy OC idea. I hope you guys like this. This was in my drafts for at least half a year, haha.

Pairing: Yandere Cowboy x City Girl! Reader

Format: Short fic; 1.4k words

WARNING(S): Yandere themes, possessive, minor insecurity from reader.

Synopsis: Jealousy, Jealousy, read all about it! When in a new environment, insecurities are bound to surface. Why don't you go get you a drink to simmer down a bit?

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!

The old Texas sun was relentless, harsher than usual, beating down on the skin of those poor townspeople just going about their day. Its temper reminded you of your late grandmother, always nagging and pestering like there was no tomorrow.

You found refuge near the large clumps of hay by the stables. The smell was familiar—unpleasant, sure, but nothing you couldn’t handle.

Why the hell were you out here? Damn you for wanting to tag along, keeping that big oaf company. He couldn’t stop poking fun at you, pushing you past your limits. It was like he knew you inside and out, from the surface of your pampered skin to the depths of your fluttering heart. For a man who wasn’t too fond of school, he sure seemed to study you a lot.

And speak of the devil. He wiped dirt and grime off the worn denim that hung low at his waist. “What’s the matter, darlin’?” he called out, glancing over his shoulder to meet your eyes. “You don’t look too hot.”

Hell, that was an understatement.

He sauntered over, slipping his hat off his head. His long strides had him at your side in moments, staring down at your seated position. Pushing his deep auburn hair from his damp skin, he squatted next to you. “What’s the matter?” he asked, placing the hat back on his head.

You pressed your lips into a thin line, torn between telling him and keeping your annoyance to yourself. You weren’t even doing any heavy lifting, just spectating, but somehow, that made the heat even worse.

“It’s hot,” you mumbled, swallowing your pride.

“Then take your shirt off.” He grinned, raising a brow. “It’s just you ‘n me today, and it’s not like I haven’t seen you without it anyhow—”

“Stop!” you shouted, hugging your knees to your chest. If not for the heat, you’d have flushed even redder.

“Alright, suit yourself.” Jamie smirked, planting a kiss on your temple before rising to his feet in one swift motion. He turned back to his polished truck, the one he treated like gold. Sometimes, you swore he loved that hunk of metal more than anything, but you’d soon learn that his world revolved around you.

Your eyes followed his back, tracing the way his muscles moved with each twist of the wrench. Jamie was a tease, but damn if he wasn’t easy on the eyes. Your gaze drifted to the tattoos scattered across his tanned skin, lingering on the intricate, slightly faded markings near his jugular—your name, carved right there. The sight of it made you hot all over, and you found yourself popping open a few buttons.

You had told that stubborn fool not to get it, warning him that tattoos were permanent and took hours of pain to remove.

“Why’re you sayin’ something like that?” he’d chuckled back then. “It’ll be a cold day in hell before I get this baby removed, sugarplum.”

The memory made you want to laugh. Jamie was as stubborn as a bull—and as big as one too. Too bad all that stubbornness would be the death of him. Not literally, of course.

“You wanna help me with the cattle? Think they need some lovin’, too.”

You tilted your head, a spark of hope flaring up. Maybe he was serious about wanting your help, about spending time together—maybe he was letting you be part of this place, tending to your shared home. But then he shrugged.

“Or I could get Mary Anne to come by. She’s always good with ’em—knows her way around horses like she was born with ’em.”

Mary Anne. Just the mention of her name made your blood boil. You’d seen her—all soft curls and sweet smiles, the kind of girl who fit right in here. Unlike you.

Your lips thinned, the jealousy rising like a rattlesnake. “Oh, is that so?” you asked, trying to keep your voice even despite the bitterness creeping in. “Mary Anne this, Mary Anne that—why don’t you just go on and ask her, then, since she’s not a ‘city girl’?”

Jamie’s eyes narrowed. “Hey now, what’s got you so riled up, sugar?”

“What’s got me riled up?” you snapped, rising to your feet. “You know damn well, Jamie. You think I don’t notice how you bring her up every time it’s my turn to help?”

You took a deep breath. “I know I’m not as capable as the others, but this is my home too. I’ve been here for over a year, and you still don’t ask me to help.”

He rolled his eyes, sighing as he straightened up, towering over you. “Aw, hell, [Name]. You actin’ like this ’cause you’re on the rag or somethin’? Ain’t no need to get all hot ’n bothered over nothin’.”

The words hit you like a slap, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, disbelief turning into a wave of fury. “You think that’s what this is about?” you hissed, your voice sharp as a knife. “You think that just because I’m upset, it’s gotta be because of that?”

Jamie shrugged, unfazed, and that was the last straw. You spun on your heel, the dusty ground kicking up beneath your boots as you stormed off. “Go on and call her, then!” you shouted over your shoulder. “I’m sure she’s just itching to help you!”

You didn’t wait for his response. You marched across the sunbaked field, fists clenched tight. You needed to get away—somewhere he wasn’t. The barn blurred into blobs of red as tears stung at the corners of your eyes. But you weren’t about to let him see you cry. Not now, not ever.

This is not where you wanted to end up. An old, run-of-the-mill saloon on a Friday night, surrounded by drunkards and divorcees, the air thick with the stench of stale tobacco. Voices murmur, glasses clink, and the laughter around you is harsh and grating. To hell with it all. To hell with them.

The whiskey settles in your veins, warm and familiar as you lean against the sticky bar. Neon lights flicker, casting a red glow across your half-empty glass, and you blink to clear your vision. You know you’ve had too much, but the night’s long, and the noise makes it easy to drown out everything.

"Fuck," you mutter, rubbing your temples.

You’ve never been much of a drinker. After moving to the countryside to be with Jamie, life on the ranch demanded your focus. Jamie hated liquor, practically despised it.

Dammit, [Name], forget about him. You shake the thought away.

“Now, darlin’, looks like your glass is ‘bout empty,” a smooth, slow drawl cuts through your thoughts. The man tilts the brim of his hat back just enough for you to catch a glint in his eyes—cold, calculating, like a snake. “Why don’t you let me get you another?”

Oh, right. You weren’t exactly alone.

“Sound good?” he asks again, his voice dripping with intentions you’re too drunk to untangle, coaxing you with the rough pad of his thumb tracing over your knuckles.

You hum. “Thank you.”

For a moment, you try to recall his name—Michael? Richard? Ashton? Danny? None of them sound right. Nothing about him feels familiar. Just another face in the blur. You decide he’s irrelevant.

"You don’t want it to get cold now, do ya?"

A voice in your head tells you to stop, to head home before you cross a line. Something about him makes your stomach churn, but you blame it on the alcohol. It doesn’t take much persuasion before you reach for the glass.

The liquor is bitter but good. But once it slips down your throat, the room spins. You blink hard, trying to steady yourself.

The barstool creaks as you sway, gripping the counter for balance. The stranger’s grin stretches wider, eyes watching you like a hawk. You know you shouldn’t have taken that drink, but it’s too late. The world starts tilting.

You turn, ready to brush off the man beside you, when you hear the heavy boots. They echo on the old floorboards, slow and deliberate, each step sending a chill down your spine. Then, a hand rests on your shoulder, the grip firm, possessive.

“Takin’ drinks from strangers now, sugar?” His voice is low, a whisper against your ear. “Why’d you go and do that for? You know better.”

Jamie.

His breath is warm, almost too close, as his fingers dig into your shoulder just enough to keep you anchored. The stranger’s hand pulls back, and you catch the flicker of fear in his eyes.

Jamie’s fingers tighten, not enough to hurt, but enough to warn. “Ain’t polite to drink without me, darlin’.” His tone is calm, but there’s a tension in it, like a leash pulled too tight.

You look up at him, the soft light catching the curve of his grin. The cowboy hat sits low, loose curls brushing the nape of his neck, his button-up shirt hugging the broad stretch of his shoulders. His forearms, tanned and strong, are exposed as his sleeves are rolled up. His eyes, though—dark and unreadable—pin you in place. There’s a hunger in them, one that makes your skin prickle.

He runs his thumb over your bottom lip, wiping off the smudge of your lipstick. His grin widens, revealing sharp canines that peek between his lips. It’s friendly enough—too friendly. Like the way foxes smile when they’re circling prey.

“Mm, you’re drunk.” He says it like it’s a fact he’s already known for hours. “How much you had tonight, sugarplum?”

You stare at your glass, pretending you don’t know. You don’t want to admit to your carelessness.

Jamie chuckles, a low, knowing sound. “So, quite a bit, huh?”

His laugh is loud, and it feels like a warning. He leans in, his hand settling on your hip, fingers curling possessively. “And flirtin’ with some nobody at the bar. That’s new.” His eyes narrow. “So, you gonna tell me who he is?”

The stranger shifts uneasily, glancing between you and Jamie. His bravado fades, and he mumbles, “Look, I didn’t mean no harm. Just thought she could use some company.”

Jamie doesn’t even look at him. His eyes are locked on yours, sharp and unyielding. “Ain’t that sweet?” he says, his voice soft, but his grip on your hip tightens, like he’s claiming a prize. “But I think she’s got all the company she needs.”

The man hesitates, looks like he’s weighing his options, then backs off with a muttered apology, disappearing into the crowd.

The world tilts again, and you’re struggling to stay upright. The bar fades around you, the noise drowning in the back of your mind. The room swims, and your vision blurs, the faces blending into nothing but shadows.

Jamie’s presence feels suffocating. His eyes linger on you, dark and intent, like he’s waiting for something. Like he’s testing you. And you know, deep down, that he doesn’t just hate you drinking—he hates you here, surrounded by people who aren’t him.

“Let’s get you home, darlin’.” His tone is almost gentle, but there’s an edge beneath it, something possessive and unyielding.

Before you can protest—before the room spins again—he’s there, pulling you into him, lifting you off your feet like you weigh nothing. His arms wrap around your waist, and the world blurs as you’re hoisted over his shoulder, carried out the bar like a prize he’s claimed.

The night air bites at your cheeks as he strides through the darkness, the cold wind cutting through the haze in your mind. You can feel his heartbeat, steady and sure beneath you, and his fingers grip your thigh, possessive and unyielding. He’s not letting you go.

Everything in you says to fight back, to push away, but he smells like home—like honey and oak. The world narrows down to him, the steady beat of his heart, the warmth of his touch.

“Man, you’re gettin’ heavy. Eating too much pumpkin pie, huh, sugarplum?”

“Fuck you,” you manage, but it’s weak, and the smile he gives you is sharp and satisfied.

You close your eyes, the world tilting again, and for a moment, you let yourself sink into it. Maybe this isn’t so bad.

Maybe this is just how it’s meant to be.

⠀⠀𐚁

⠀. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

©CozyMoko, all rights reserved. Don't repost my work on other platforms.

[cupcek]

Me encantas con tus palabras pero tus acciones me entristecen 人月 🎚🌸 ⣔

[abbyshands]

𐚁⊹₊ ⋆ YOU GOT ME, DARLING 𓄀 part 1

“i- i meant, like, heat-wise. it’s in the, um, 80’s right now,” abby replies awkwardly, scratching the back of her neck like it’ll settle the nerves having a field day in her veins. “but you are pretty hot,” she mumbles under her breath.

series masterlist (coming soon ...) | series document | READ THIS | DAILY CLICK | PALESTINE LINKS | main masterlist

𓄀 pairing: cowgirl!reader x city girl!abby anderson

𓄀 includes: masc!reader, tall!reader, reader has tattoos and piercings and is implied to be muscular, established friendships (abby x ellie, dina, and manny), reader has an established backstory, modern setting, flirting, reader has an accent so read as such!

𓄀 summary: you decide to represent your business, cowboy classics, at seattle’s annual farmer’s market, unaware that the universe would send an angel with blonde hair and blue eyes to your feet.

𓄀 notes: so i had a lil’ idea and i ran with it so i present this lil’ series i’m gonna start <3 i have lots of ideas for it so be prepared for it to be a lil’ all over the place if i’m being honest. also, eventual smut of course! please comment or let me know if you want to be tagged. alright now, enjoy! ♡

𓄀 wc: 3k

every year, seattle hosts a farmer’s market that lasts a week, the hottest week of the summer. for the last, dear god, however many years you had lived here, you had never come to it, much less represented your business at it. but this year, you figured, why not? all your other friends were pooling into the heart of the city to attend the yearly market, so why couldn’t you?

you weren’t the biggest fan of seattle when you first arrived here. it was a stark contrast from where you grew up, a little prairie in rural texas. you remember shuddering each time you passed by a building the first week you lived here, wondering, where the hell are the fields?

seattle was just so different. rainy, cold, urbanized down to the last letter. you had moved here from texas when you were only 18 by your parents’ wishes for you to go to a college, get a degree, and get a damn job. your parents had been hard on you growing up for reasons unbeknownst to you, not like it mattered. not then, and not now.

after studying in college for two years and narrowly managing to get an associate’s degree in business, you decided to not pursue your bachelor’s, instead getting right to work. you earned yourself a job as a construction worker, the closest you had gotten to home since moving to seattle two years prior. the hot days when the sun came out in the summer, the rigorous work outside, the dirt on your skin by evening to show for a job well done. it was all you could have asked for and more.

when you managed to get yourself afloat, considerably well off, you ventured right outside urban seattle and scored yourself a little farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, far up a mile long dirt road. it was perfect, reminiscent of that old texas charm you had missed so dearly since leaving it. and then, when you finally settled down, you purchased a place bordering the urban and rural areas of seattle to make your own, where you used your associate’s degree and your casual texan charm to open a business.

cowboy classics read the sign hanging off your stand as the hot summer sun beat down on your back, shining down on your skin, which glistened with sweat as you set up your stand. thank god your stall had a roof, or else you’d be a goner for the next few hours that you’d be at the farmer’s market.

the market was crowded that morning, and more people were drawn to you and your stand than you were ready for. you couldn’t say you weren’t flattered, especially when you made a solid hundred dollars in the first hour and pretty girls were all but falling at your feet to buy your merchandise.

cowboy classics consisted of several products right off your farm. fruits like apples, berries, and melons, veggies like corn and peppers, and herbs of all kinds, such as cilantro, parsley, and rosemary, which you had grown yourself. dairy products, like fresh milk in classic milk jugs, regular and strawberry, cream cheese, and smooth butter. jams and jellies that the folks back home and your friends here in seattle could die for. and last but not least, handmade soaps and candles.

one would wonder why your shop was called cowboy classics when you were clearly a girl, if it weren’t for your heavily masculine energy. it seemed to radiate off of you, like the very sunrays shining down on your skin. from your voice, deep and low, thick with a rural texan accent, to your attire, a flannel and jeans, a belt with a big buckle and boots, and you couldn’t miss the cowboy hat, to even your scent, musky cologne mixed with the smells of your farm and all the products you produced from it.

now, city girl abby anderson couldn’t be further from a cowgirl. having grown up in the heart of seattle, washington, abigail “abby” anderson works as a personal trainer at a gym a few blocks away from her house. as tall, big, and muscular as she is, she couldn’t be more awkward. she wasn’t clueless, she just preferred her bed to being so human as to socialize. she was a little shy, but complex in nature, her sweet blue eyes easy to get lost in, her blonde hair shaping her freckled face to flawlessness.

the yearly market was always fun for abby. her dad would always take a few days off his shifts at the hospital just to bring abby to the market, unable to resist the way her eyes lit up when they settled on all the wonders the place had to offer, at least for a little girl. now that she was older, she had grown to adore it even more. it was all so raw, so natural, and the products at the market were inexpensive and could actually be of use to her.

abby was walking through the market with a few friends beside her. her best friend, ellie, her girlfriend, dina, and one of abby’s closest friends, manny. manny liked the market as much as abby did, though it was less for what you could buy and more for what you could take home with you. in other words, the pretty girls. ellie previously just liked to accompany abby to the market, but since having met dina, she came more for dina’s love of it.

“shit, it’s hot,” abby said, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead for the third time in the last ten minutes. her pale forehead glistened with sweat, little blonde baby hairs plastered to it.

ellie chuckled, nodding. “this heat wave’s no fucking joke. we’re going to be liquid by the time we get out of here.”

“ooh, look at that! those shirts are so cute!” dina suddenly exclaimed, causing the group’s attention to snap to a stand of hand knitted shirts and randomized accessories, like scarves, purses, and gloves. before ellie could even respond, dina was dragging her by the hand to the stand.

abby chuckled, having grown quite used to dina’s impulsive nature. when she turned to her side to look to manny, she realized that he had also wandered off, easily finding him chatting up a pretty girl at a different stall. abby rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t keep the amusement off her face. those were her friends for you. looks like she was on her own.

if she was being honest, she preferred to walk through the market alone, at least when she was actually looking through the vendors for good finds. it was reminiscent of her childhood, this little piece of seattle that gave the city girl a taste of what it was like on the other side of urban, even if it only lasted a week.

abby was walking through the market, having yet to find a stand that piqued her interest, when one poked out at her. curiously, she squinted to get a better look at it, her feet approaching it of their own accord. the owner’s back was turned, but abby could tell that it was a woman, one that was a sight for sore eyes, at that. but what interested her, too, was the variety of products at the stand, produce and dairy products, jams and jellies, paired with what looked like soaps and candles.

it was only when she turned around that abby’s attention was hers, and hers only.

who the hell is that?

the closer abby got to your stand, the more intrigued by you she was. you had a face that could bring anybody to their knees, clad in a flannel and dark blue jeans, a brown belt with a huge buckle, and jesus christ, a black cowboy hat to top it off. it was like she had looked one way and been in seattle, washington, than turned and teleported into rural texas. she couldn’t help the way her eyes raked over your body, taking you in in all your glory, tattooed arms and hands with a prominent tattoo on your neck and collarbone, several silver piercings in your ears.

alright, she’d bite.

and she hoped you would, too.

your interest was piqued when you saw her walking up to your stand. the girls who had approached you thus far were pretty, but this girl was a downright stunner. blonde hair tied back in a braid that fell over her right shoulder, exposed by her black tank top, paired with her brown cargo shorts. she had these pretty blue eyes, too, pretty blue eyes that sparkled like sweet diamonds in the burning seattle sun, accompanying the prominent freckles on her nose and cheeks. 

she was muscular like you, only it peaked out in her arms, hands, and thighs, whereas your muscle presented itself in your broad shoulders and chest. you can’t wipe the grin off your face as she approaches your stand, and you set down the soaps you’d just picked up from a crate behind you on the stand, seeing as you had just sold out for the second time since arriving at the market.

“hey there,” you smile at her, and shit, even your voice is alluring, and it matches your face just right. dark, deep and low and thick with rasp, a texan accent to it that was impossible to miss. it was embarrassing for the blonde, just how fast her face heated up, that is, and she gave you a shy smile in response, along with a little awkward wave. “see somethin’ ya’like, baby?”

yes, you.

abby cleared her throat, nodding, trying so hard to ignore the way her stomach flips at the way that last word slipped off your lips. “uh, yeah. your stand is really cool,” abby said, a rosy blush covering her cheeks and nose as she inspected the soaps you had just set down on the counter. before you can respond to her compliment, she asks, “did you make these yourself?”

you nod to confirm, looking down at the soaps she was referring to. “sure did. handmade all day. the folks here quite like ‘em. sold out twice,” you said, leaning over the counter, eyes settled on the blonde girl before you. abby’s battling to ignore how nervous she feels at being in the presence of such a handsome woman, heavily aware of how much taller than her you are.

and she never meets girls who are taller than her.

abby takes one of the soaps into her hands. pine, her scent of choice in cologne, hair products, air freshener, candles, whatever it may be. she would marry the damn scent if she could. reading the label, she realized the scent of the little handmade bar of soap was a mix of pine and vanilla, and she lifted it to her nose to give it a smell, earning the blonde’s instant approval. “well, i can see why. this smells great,” abby commented.

“i’m glad’ya like it,” you chuckle as your tongue darts out to lick your lips, your eyes raking over the girl for the millionth time since she had walked up to your stand. you can’t help but be curious about her. unlike most of the girls you had met at the market thus far, she wasn’t throwing herself at your feet.

though you wouldn’t mind if she did.

“i’m abigail, by the way. abby,” abby said with that awkward grin of hers, putting her hand out for you to shake. abigail. jesus christ, she never introduced herself like that. you were making the poor girl so nervous she couldn't even think right. you take her hand into yours, kissing the back of it before telling her your own name, tipping your hat. shit, even your name made her heart skip a beat.

was there a damn thing about you that abby anderson wasn’t attracted to?

“it’s nice to meet you,” abby smiled, unable to tear her eyes away from you and all the products your stand had to offer. she walked over to a little shelf beside it, stocked with candles of all scents. “did you make these, too?”

“that i did, darlin’. use the same scents as i do the soaps, so if’ya like that pine one, it’s there,” you say. abby nods. you didn’t have to tell her twice. somehow, it only smells better to her when the scent of pine and vanilla fills her nose in the form of a candle. and, of course, because you made it. she sets the candle and soap onto your stand, timid as she slides them over to you, a small mumble of, “just these,” leaving her lips.

you take the candle into your hands, grabbing a piece of brown wrapping paper from the stack of it you had behind the stand. you put it down, setting the candle in the middle of the sheet of paper before wrapping it up and putting it into a little bag alongside the soap. abby would be drooling if her lips were parted, watching the way your muscles flex at even the smallest movements as you wrap the candle up for her.

you give abby a price, to which she takes out her wallet and hands you the bills, graciously telling you to keep the change. you smile at her, more than thankful for her kindness, but not needing the extra money. “that’s alright, baby. i’ll get’ya your change, though i appreciate the gesture,” you return, reaching behind you to fetch a few ones and coins. but not before abby cuts you off.

“n- no, really, i insist. you deserve it,” abby says a little too quickly. an angel this one was, that was for damn sure.

you chuckle, shaking your head. “well, aren’t you sweet. insist, huh?”

abby nods firmly, though the blush on her cheeks betrays the show of confidence. “yes, i insist. you’re going to be here all day, you’re selling awesome products, and you’re hot. it’s the least i could do,” she says, like the fact was common knowledge. you lean in just to tease her, raising an eyebrow.

“ya’think i’m hot, darlin’?”

abby’s eyes widen at how close you get to her face, and how suddenly aware she is of her own existence. she almost can’t hear you over the sound of her heart rattling in her ears, pumping in her chest as the musky scent of your cologne fills her nose. she tries and fails to not let her eyes wander down to your lips and fuck, her head was spinning, spiraling with the handsome cowgirl she could die happy now that she’d met.

“i- i meant, like, heat-wise. it’s in the, um, 80’s right now,” abby replies awkwardly, scratching the back of her neck like it’ll settle the nerves having a field day in her veins. “but you are pretty hot,” she mumbles under her breath.

you sure as hell don’t miss it.

“well, thank’ya kindly, darlin’. you’re mighty fine yourself,” you smirk, and abby’s head was spinning. how did people like you even exist in real life? you were right of of a western movie, the way you looked, the way you sounded, even your energy alone was enough to throw a city girl like abby for a loop. “but you’re damn right. fuck, sweatin’ like a damn sinner in church in this heat,” you say, taking a second to stretch as you do.

abby can’t help the way her cheeks burn at the simple act of you cussing. and she’d tear her eyes from you right now, if it weren’t for the way your flannel rises when you stretch, revealing the lower part of your torso. you make direct eye contact with her and shoot one of your signature smirks her way before speaking. “well, if you’re gonna be such a sweetheart, s’only fair i do a little somethin’ in return,” you say. you reach behind you to the little cooler that’s filled with all the dairy products you make on your farm, rummaging through it. “d’ya like strawberries?”

abby nodded, wondering what you were getting at. “i do.”

“alright, then,” you nod in return, pulling out one of your jugs of strawberry milk and sliding it across the counter towards her. “can’t have a pretty thing like you burnin’ up in this heat, now can we? promise you’ll like it.”

abby cursed the blush on her cheeks, hoping you’d think she was getting sunburnt instead. pretty. you think she’s fucking pretty. “i- i’m sure i will, but i don’t think the change i gave you covers this,” abby said, just about ready to reach into her wallet and give you every last bill in it. but you shake your head, taking her previous words.

“ah ah ah. i insist. alright?” you say, and there’s a no nonsense way about the words that leave your lips, like you won’t take no for an answer, so firm that it sends chills down abby’s spine. she pouts and she’s fucking adorable as she does it. and when she gives you a reluctant nod, you smile. “attagirl.”

jesus christ.

“i’m going to pay you back for this. somehow,” abby says, a hint of brattiness to her voice. you can’t say you don’t like it, especially when it’s accompanied with that cute pout of hers. you chuckle as she asks, “what do you want?”

“hm,” you pretend to think about it, putting your hands on your hips as you push your tongue into your cheek. abby’s trying and failing hard not to look at the sweat dripping down your tattooed arms. you make up your mind, then look down at her. “why don’t’cha come back tomorrow? late, when the market’s ‘bout to close. i’ll show’ya how to make it up to me,” you say with a wink.

abby’s heart skips a beat at your words. she doesn’t think she’s ever been more happy to hear a promise like that one. her smile is equal parts coy and shy as she responds to you. “i’ll be here.”

no matter how confident you look on the outside, butterflies are swarming ‘round your belly within. a pretty girl like this one, shy and sweet, generous and kind, was going to come back tomorrow to see you, no convincing needed. had you died and gone to heaven? you smile, blowing abby a little kiss. “alright, then. take care now, abigail,” you tease, just as she’s about to walk away. abby playfully rolls her eyes at you.

“abby.”

𐚁⊹₊ ⋆ taglist! @aouiaa @plutolovesyou @soupycloud @xayn-xd

[niilue]

For your 3k event can i request Feitan + bratty sub + feminization + male reader? I’m starved for sub/bottom Feitan content!

⎯ feitan portor • hunter x hunter

cw: dom reader, male reader, bratty feitan, feminization, rough sex, dirty talk. written in third person.. babe i know the lack of sub feitan its a sin :(

niilue’s 3k event

feitan groaned, his muscles tensing as he felt himself being fucked hard and fast. he cursed under his breath, the sensation of his lover's thick cock sliding in and out of him, hitting his prostate with each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body. his dominant partner seemed to be enjoying it just as much, their hips meeting in a frenzy of lust as they fucked on the bed.

gespite his initial protests, feitan couldn't help but arch his back and moan as he felt himself getting closer to orgasm. the combination of his lover's rough treatment and the feminine lingerie, with its soft, delicate fabric and vibrant colors, was driving him wild. he knew he shouldn't be enjoying it this much, but there was something about giving in to his dominant partner's demands that made him feel incredibly turned on.

his lover reached down, roughly grabbing a fistful of feitan's hair and yanking his head back, exposing his throat. "you like this, don't you, brat?" he growled, spit landing on feitan's skin. "you like being my little slut, wearing my panties and getting fucked like the whore you are?" feitan whimpered, his eyes darting back and forth between his lover's face and the ceiling, trying to decide if he should lie or tell the truth. "yeah," he finally managed to choke out, "i like it."

feitan's lover chuckled darkly at his admission, a smug smile playing on his lips as he tightened his grip on the little man's hair. "that's what i thought," he murmured, leaning down to nip at feitan's earlobe, sending shivers down his spine. he pulled back to admire the way feitan's cheeks flushed pink, matching the delicate lace that adorned his body. "beg for it, then," he demanded, his voice low and commanding.

feitan clenched his teeth, his pride warring with his desire. he hated admitting defeat, but the need for release was becoming unbearable. "p-please (name)," he stuttered, his voice shaking with need, "fuck me harder, i'm begging you."

(name) chuckled again, pleased with the response. he complied, his strokes becoming more powerful and relentless, pushing feitan closer and closer to the edge. "that's it," he encouraged, "ask for what you want, my pretty little thing."

feitan bit his bottom lip, his eyes squeezed shut as he moaned, "more, i need more!" his body was a writhing mess of pleasure and pain, the feminine lingerie feeling both humiliating and exhilarating against his sweat-slicked skin.

with a wicked grin, (name) reached around and pinched feitan's nipples, eliciting a high-pitched squeal. "you're going to cum for me, aren't you?" he taunted, his voice thick with lust. "you're going to fill you're panties like a good little girl."

feitan's eyes snapped open, glaring up at his partner with a mix of anger and arousal. "fuck you," he spat, his voice filled with passion.

(name) simply smirked, leaning in to whisper, "that's the spirit," before pushing feitan over the edge, making him scream out his orgasm, his body shaking uncontrollably as he came in the pink and white lace.

feitan's body went limp as the last tremors of his orgasm faded away, leaving him panting and covered in a sheen of sweat. he felt the weight of his lover's body pressing down on him, but instead of relief, he was filled with a sudden burst of energy. his bratty side resurfaced, and he couldn't help but smirk up at (name). "is that all you've got?" he challenged, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "i thought you'd make me scream louder than that."

(name) lift an eyebrow, his grip on feitan's hips tightening. "you want more?" he asked, his tone deceptively calm.

feitan nodded, a glint of mischief in his eye. "yeah," he said, his voice a breathy pant, "i want to feel like i'm really being fucked by a man, not just some wimpy excuse for one."

(name's) smile turned predatory, and he pulled out of feitan with a wet pop, leaving the bratty sub gasping. he grabbed a handful of the soft lingerie, wadding it up in his fist and using it to wipe the sweat from his brow. "you're really asking for it now," he said, his voice a low rumble. "but if you want more, you're going to have to beg for it properly."

feitan huffed, pushing himself up onto his elbows. "fine," he snarled, "but you'd better make it worth it."

(name) chuckled, his eyes dark with desire. "oh, I will," he promised, leaning down to whisper in feitan's ear, "and you'll be the one begging for mercy by the end of it." he reached for the nightstand, grabbing a small bottle of lube and a new toy, one that looked particularly intimidating.

feitan's eyes went wide, and he swallowed hard. "what the fuck is that?" he demanded, his bravado slipping a little.

"this," (name) said, holding up the toy with a wicked smile, "is your next lesson in obedience." he lubed it up, the sound of the gel spreading over the smooth surface making feitan's heart race. "now, be a good girl and spread those legs for me."

feitan's cheeks burned with a mix of anger and excitement as he reluctantly did as he was told, bracing himself for whatever was to come. he knew that with each challenge he threw, (name) would only push him further, but the thrill of the game was what kept him coming back for more. he was going to make him work for it, though. he was going to push back and make him earn every single moan and scream. the air was thick with tension as the toy was positioned at his entrance, and with a quick thrust, it was inside him, stretching him wider than he'd ever been before.

the pain was intense, but it only served to fuel feitan's brattiness. "is that all you've got?" he goaded, his voice strained but determined. "i can take more than that!"

(name's) smile grew, and he began to move the toy in and out, twisting it as he went, making feitan's eyes roll back in his head. "oh, i know you can," he said, "but the question is, will you beg for it?"

and with that, he began to pick up the pace, driving the toy deeper and deeper into feitan's ass, the black-haired man's moans and curses filling the room as he struggled to keep his pride intact.

feitan's breath came in ragged gasps as the toy stretched him, filling him to the brim. his body was on fire, his muscles straining against the sensation of being so thoroughly used. but he wouldn't give in. he wouldn't beg. not yet.

(name's) eyes glinted with determination, his thrusts becoming harder, faster. "come on, feitan," he growled, "give in to the pleasure. beg for more."

but feitan only gritted his teeth and dug his nails into the sheets, refusing to break. the pleasure-pain bordering on agony was almost too much to bear, but he knew that if he gave in now, he'd never hear the end of it. his eyes rolled back in his head as he felt the toy brush against something deep inside him, triggering a shockwave of pleasure through his entire body.

"that's it", (name) whispered, his voice laced with lust. "you like that, don't you? you want more." his hips began to move faster, his thrusts more powerful. "say it," he demanded. "tell me you want more."

feitan's chest heaved as he struggled to keep his composure, but his voice, when it came out, was a hoarse whisper. "more," he managed to choke out. "please."

word count: 1,272

[chrissdollie]

𐔌　‧ॱ ୨♡୧ ˚　ride　₊˚ ♡

⊹˚₊ summary: with your daddy away, matthew sturniolo visits your family's cozy farm where he convinces you to join him for a horse ride. you nervously gallop through town together and find yourself falling for the boy your father may never approve of. ︵︵ notes: farmers!daughter!reader x cowboy!matt, sfw, fluff, daddy issues, small bit of angst at the end, kind of a rapunzel and flynn ryder kinda thing (as mentioned by matt hehe), ending is not proofread ︵︵　word count: 2k

　　"those fuckin scoundrels," your father spits, stern eyes glaring out your tiny kitchen window as herders pass by, their horses kicking up dirt and dust. you lift your head from the overflowing sink to watch for the few seconds the men ride by. your father shuts the fridge with a sigh. you reavert your gaze to the distressed man, your fluffy lashes fluttering as you blink with concern.

"are you alright daddy?” you chirp, lazily brushing the sponge in your hand against a dainty pink plate as you watch the man wave his hand dismissively.

“fine, darlin, fine. check on the eggs when yer done there, alright?” he grunts, making his way towards the front door. you hum contently, quickly drying your hands and disregarding the dirty dishes before skipping through the homely cottage, bathed beautifully in the warm sun. “bye bye!” you kiss your dad's cheek, patting his back lightly as he pulls his jacket off the hook. the door opens and closes, and suddenly you're all alone again.

you don't mind it, humming quietly to yourself as you pick up your basket and step out the back door, your pretty boots crunching on the green grass. the only thing keeping you sane is the farm. your father doesn't let you go out-- he says exploring just leads to problems, and you listen because you'd never want to trouble your dear old dad. you're detached from the real world, though you don't really know it, do you? you're a quiet young thing with no ambitions unlike the other girls in town with dreams of leaving home and making a change.

the hens cluck familiarly as you step into the spacious chicken coop, smiling at your fluffy birds. like a giddy child, you talk to your animals, especially considering they're the only real friends you've got. "daddy's out in town; he wanta get some lambs, sheila! wouldn' that be nice?" you coo, politely moving your chicken to collect her eggs.

when you finish, you open the screened door to let the chickens out. they scramble past the threshold, freely wandering the farm as they please. your face brightens as you catch sight of your horse, petal, staring directly at you as if patiently waiting for your attention. you wouldn't admit it (especially not in front of the other animals), but she was your favorite part of the farm. you've had her since you were little, slowly watching her delicate white mane grow-- you click your teeth when you notice the pink flowers you'd left woven in her mane fading. then your eyes widen as you spot a smidge of brown hair moving behind her.

"hello..?" you call out as you clutch your basket tighter and hurry over to petal's fenced-in area. you gasp when you reach a man bent down on his knees, inspecting your horse's hooves. he looks up at you, and your heart pounds a little louder. you've seen him before, you have the biggest slightest remembrance of square dancing with the boy at one of the town gatherings. "oh," you sigh, clutching your heart. "hi matt," you mutter shyly.

it's been a while since you've seen matthew sturniolo-- ever since your father decided that now as a "big girl", boys would be eyeing you as you danced, therefore there was no more for you. the brunette hair is longer now, and his face has lost some of its pleasant youthfulness.

matt chuckles awkwardly as he stands, dusting himself off. "heya sweetheart-- m sorry to scare ya like this," he says with a gentle smile, holding his hand out to your free one. ever the charmer, he leaves a delicate kiss on your knuckles, and your nerves settle a bit.

the brunette exhales heavily, taking a quick look around the farm. "ts been a while, huh? i was, uh, lookin at your steed's foot there. seems like she needs a bit of care," matt gestures towards petal.

"oh," you whisper to yourself, eyes averting to your pet's hoof. he takes in your cute appearance, subtly grinning at your little stud earrings and bouncy pink dress. "is it.. bad?" you mutter before letting out a tiny gasp.. how rude you've been! "oh! um, are you thirsty? or do you want something to eat maybe?" you take a step back, ready to head inside. but he shakes his head, waving his hand.

"thank you, but i'm fine. actually came here to ask ya-- um... y'wanna go fer a ride?" matt asks hopefully, eyes searching yours for any signs of rejection.

your father would never agree. you gulp, dropping your head to your feet. "oh, i'm not sure.. daddy would--"

"im not askin what he wants." he cuts you off sharply along with a stern look. "do you wanna go fer a ride?... with me?"

you exhale, looking over to petal. it almost looks like she gives you a nod of encouragement. "i-i'm not very good.." you stammer embarrassedly, picking up your head. he chuckles again, tapping his foot against the grass lightly. "ill teach ya,"

you nod, lips parted. matt's head tilts towards a chicken by his boot, his grin widening. "they gonna be alright out?"

"oh! uh, one second.." you head behind the coop into a tiny shed, pulling out a handful of oats. spreading your palm, you call the chickens over, the oats being bait to lure them back into their home. the birds cluck loudly, stumbling over themselves as they follow you into the stall. "here you go babies," you coo quietly, spreading the oats around the ground. you dust off your hands before stepping out the screened door to a smiling, almost sheepish matt.

you awkwardly brush off your dress, looking around. "so.. where's your horse?"

matt nudges his head to the side. "wrapped to that tree righ’ there," he looks toward his brown steed tied to a thick oak tree. he hums contently, mindlessly playing with petal's clean mane, turning back to you. "so, shall we?"

you sway back and forth, still nervous about leaving the animals all alone. "needa put the eggs away first.. oh nd i need a saddle-- are you sure you don' wanna come in real fast?"

the brunette shakes his head, "nah, that's alrigh'. i'll help you and.." he pauses, motioning to the dying flowers in your horse's mane. "petal, right?" he asks with a giggle. you grin toothily and nod in confirmation, him nodding back.

"well, i'll help you two get geared up," he offers, flashing that enchanting smile you loved seeing back whenever you accidentally stepped on his shoes while dancing. he'd always reassure you, saying "that's alright," just as he did now, and give you that sweet grin that made your worries disappear.

matt steps away from your horse, his chaps swinging back and forth as he makes his way towards you. "so.. how've you been lately?"

leaving your beloved home for the first time in forever wasn't as hard as you initially thought it'd be. having matt as company helped, he soothed your worries with ease when you debated just staying with the animals like always. he caught you up on how to ride your horse, how to hold the reins, the right times to squeeze your legs, and steering. you got the hang of it again with little trouble (you almost fell off petal when mounting..) and you found yourself having great fun in the unexpected event.

"let's race!!" you grin, slowing down with matt trailing close behind you. he readjusts his black cowboy hat as he raises an eyebrow with his horse, jeff, pulling up next to you. "i dunno 'bout that, m pretty sure i'd win," he chuckles, petting petal with unintelligible coos.

the valley the two of you had been riding in for the past hour was gorgeous, with hardly any trees surrounding the large meadow, allowing you to feel free. you giggle with a nod, “yeah probably,”

matt stares at the side of your face for a moment before humming and taking off straight ahead with a loud laugh. you gasp with a wide grin before giddying up, racing behind matt.

you two race all the way home, the sun setting above you as you hear the familiar noises of the farm. “so it’s a tie then?” matt smirks, hopping off jeff. he walks over to your side, grabbing your hips before you could protest and helping you off.

you stick your tongue out a little. “i coulda won if ya didn’t take off before me.. but yeahhh it’s a tie,”

the boy ruffles your hair playfully, forcing a small giggle out of you that’s cut off shortly when you notice your father’s pick up truck in front of the house. you exhale, mentally preparing yourself for the upcoming stream of harsh curses. you turn to matt, kissing his cheek quickly. his eyes slightly widen, clearly taken by surprise.

“daddy’s home but um..” you’re immensely shy again, eyes locked on the dirt ground slowly getting darker as the sun fades away. “thank you for today. i really loved it..”

if you thought matt’s expression towards you couldn’t get any softer, it just did. he always wished there was something he could do about your restrictive father, but alas, he’s still just a boy. he can’t be your knight in shining armor yet.

he nods, placing a finger under your chin to lift your gaze. your eyes are glossy, bottom lip only slightly trembling, though matt’s able to catch it. he offers a gentle smile, rubbing a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb. “we should do this again sometime, ay? me, you, jeff, and petal,”

“i think the fuck not.”

you and matt both jump at the raspy voice. you turn towards the back door where your father stands with a shotgun in hand. matt places his hand on his hat, “sir—“

“matthew get your goddamn ass off my land ‘fore i shoot you dead,” your dad spits, lifting the gun to rest in both hands. matt inhales heavily before snatching your hand into his. you let out a soft gasp, whispering, “what are ya doin?”

he ignores you, challenging your enraged father with a cold gaze. “i apologize for keepin your darlin out so late, sir.” he starts, keeping a firm stare. he couldn’t be your knight in shining armor then, he thought he couldn’t even save you now. but his giddy heart tells him to fight for you.

your daddy cuts him off again, “i don’t give a—“, only this time, matt keeps talking.

“i never was able to take her for a ride before you hid her away like fuckin rapunzel. guess that makes you mother gothel then, huh?”

as matt speaks, your eyes were blurred with tears, threatening to spill over any second. you kept your composure though, knowing your father hates when you cry. matt standing up for you made you proud and sick with adoration. but it’s also making matters worse for you, because now your father’ll come down on you even harder.

“you can shoot flynn ryder. go ‘head. you know who my parents are. and you know karma’s a bitch ain’t it?” he challenges, raising both eyebrows, keeping his hand in yours reassuringly.

your father scoffs, gripping his shotgun tighter before turning to you. “get yer stupid ass inside now.” he grits his teeth, his nose practically flaring steam.

you hesitantly drop matt’s hand, pulling petal in behind her fence quickly before running into the house, keeping your head down as you rushed past your father.

when you’re gone, he sucks his teeth, threatening matt to stay away before he steps into the house, clutching onto the door. before shutting it, he lets out an unexpected chuckle. “and by the way, jeff is a dumb ass name,”

matt huffs as the door slams shut. his eyes quickly avert to your room’s window as the light turned on, your dad’s yelling muffled by the walls. it’s then that matt realizes, he didn’t really save you at all.

help this is kinda short oopsies.. not doing a part 2 unless someone comes in my inbox with an idea (plz be specific 😞)

[mattnott]

boyfriend!mattheo who just lost a quidditch game, so he takes his frustration out on you not by hurting you but by fucking you so slowly it's pure torture, keeping you on edge until you beg for more, and when you finally start pleading, he snaps, pouring all that pent-up anger into you, fucking you so deep and hard that you're crying out in pleasure, so overwhelmed that you can't even remember your own name.

[yovrnewromantic]

THE MEANEST GIRL IN HUFFLEPUFF

a small series inspired by my harry potter oc! and her interactions with her peers! enjoy :) please lmk if you have any requests!!

the masterlist! (written by a hufflepuff in denial so yk its accurate)

Harry Potter... Coming soon...

Draco Malfoy

Cedric Diggory

Hermione Granger

Theodore Nott

Ron Weasley

Mattheo Riddle

Lorenzo Berkshire

Fred Weasley

Blaise Zabini

Pansy Parkinson

Ginny Weasley

George Weasley

Luna Lovegood

Neville Longbottom

[motherbeysuniverseeee]

🖤CUNTRYGIRL 🖤

[hvneybuckin]

tashi duncan

afab reader, age gap (reader’s in college), cheating, implications of oral sex & fingering, tashi’s kind of manipulative

18+. minors dni

950 words (not proofread)

Tashi knows real talent when she sees it.

She can tell when someone has the potential. The passion, the drive. When they just need that one last push to get them exactly where they need to be. Tashi saw that in you.

The way you held yourself off and on the court was admirable, maybe because of the fact that she saw a little bit of herself in you. Of course, you still had room to improve (i.e, your serve was the smallest bit off), but you were constantly crushing your competition regardless.

You could go so far with just a little bit of help, Tashi knew this. If you kept this up, the U.S Open could be right around the corner.

However, when you received the email in which she informed you of how much she adored your matches, going on to say that she’d be pleased to speak with you sometime soon— you definitely weren’t as composed as you are on the court. With trembling hands, you sent a short and simple email back, praying that it made you look professional.

The two of you agreed to meet at the hotel she and her husband stayed at. The building was humongous— it left you feeling like a fish out of water as soon as you stepped through the large glass doors. If rich people had a smell, that was what this hotel smelled like. Even the lobby was pretty big, decorated with modern art that claimed to have some kind of symbolism behind it.

It wasn’t long until Tashi had come downstairs to welcome you into her hotel room.

She looked so much more intimidating in person, feeling as if every time you made eye contact, you shrunk in size.

“I’ve seen you play. You have a special talent for tennis, something that’s rare in most players these days. You just landed a Uniqlo partnership, right? Imagine what else you could accomplish in the future.”

Her praise makes your cheeks flush. You’re afraid that if you try to look directly at her, the words you plan to say will die right there in your mouth— so you speak into your freshly made cup of coffee (courtesy of Tashi).

“Thank you, Mrs. Donaldson, that’s a really big deal coming from you.”

“Tashi’s fine. There’s really no need to thank me either. I wanted to talk to you because I think you can be even greater than you already are, hon. You just need someone to help you get there.”

It didn’t take a genius to understand what she was implying.

“Oh. Well, Tashi…I appreciate the offer but, don’t you already have a lot on your plate? You’re already coaching your husband, and you also have a kid— I don’t wanna cause you any stress.”

You could hear her chuckle, your eyes fleeting back up to meet her own.

“I think I can risk getting a wrinkle or two. Can you risk losing the career of a lifetime?”

Huh.

You stay silent, letting her words swirl about in your head. Your eyes are reluctant to meet hers, but you force yourself to do it anyway.

“No. I can’t.”

“You can’t.”

Tashi’s eyes urge you to say something, anything more. Your fingers trace the edge of the mug in your hands. You knew what she was waiting for. The words die on your tongue, your hesitation preventing you from speaking further. You could use the help, you knew that.

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

When you accepted, you thought you had an idea of what you were getting yourself into. Key word; thought. It started off harmless. Tashi was the teacher, and you were the student. She was helping you, training you to become better.

However, it was starting to feel less and less innocent.

It felt less innocent whenever she’d come up behind you, carefully helping you fix your stance and you could feel her lip graze your ear.

It felt less innocent when she invited you out for lunch and dinner, disguising it as a chance for the two of you to discuss future matches.

You knew it definitely wasn’t innocent anymore once Tashi’s head was slotted comfortably in between your thighs.

And for some strange reason, you didn’t quite seem to have a problem with it.

Maybe because of the fact that whenever you’d voice your doubts, she’d tell you that it was fine, that she was just trying to “calm your nerves”.

In fact, she’d tell you that every single time— right before burying her fingers in you, hitting that one spot that made your eyes roll to the back of your head.

It made you forget just for that moment; then the feeling was back just as quickly as it left.

“…Are you sure we should be doing this? It doesn’t feel right,” You took her silence as a sign to keep talking, Tashi continuing to put her shirt on while you rambled. “What about Art? Or— God, even worse, what about Lily? Jesus, both of our careers are on the line—“

“Do you wanna be a good tennis player?” The way she cut you off was expected, but for some reason it rendered you speechless. You didn’t respond, but instead blinked. Then you resorted to averting your gaze, head hanging low with…shame? Embarrassment? You weren’t entirely sure.

Tashi’s hand moved to grip your jaw, forcing your eyes back onto hers. “Do you…want to be a good fucking tennis player?”

You nodded— or, well, attempted to.

“Uh-huh, well, good players don’t question their coaches. Go get dressed, we have to see your dietitian.”

She lets you go, and you move to locate your panties— because professionals do what they’re told.

from aiden — AH i tried my best with the characterization but it might be just the slightest bit off 😭 IDK i wanted to get smth else out rq so i hope u guys like it eek !!!!!!!

[cozymoko]

I really loved your yandere cowboy OC idea (Jamie) and is it possible to ask for a part 2 or something? You have me hooked👀

My Fancy Lady

Yes, anon!

Nav. Masterlist

𐚁 Pairing. Yandere! Cowboy x City Girl! Reader

𐚁 Warning(s). slight yandere themes, subtle jealousy from reader, overall just lovey-dovey though.

𐚁 Format, word count. Scenario, 2.2k words

𐚁 Synopsis. You're returning to your home back in the city, but you wouldn't dare go without your precious cowboy.

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!

Jamie wasn't one for small talk��'less it was his woman doin' the talkin'. So, nights like this? Big ol’ fancy affairs? They weren’t his scene. He’d rather be anywhere else, maybe takin' on some honest work in town or catchin' a rodeo a few miles out. Hell, anything that didn’t have him stuffed into this stiff suit, collar chokin' him half to death.

But, reckon he had it comin’. You get yourself tangled up with a city girl, and suddenly you're wearin’ city clothes, trailed by folks who don’t know a lick about good, hard work. He couldn't help but stay close, though. With a pretty thing like you on his arm, he had to be. Men were wolves in these parts, sneakin' glances like they’d never seen a woman before—especially one who wasn’t theirs to look at. Made him chuckle under his breath. "What a damn shame."

Jamie stood across the ballroom, leaned up against the wall, one foot crossed over the other. He could’ve gone and greeted your folks, but Lord, your mama was a spitfire—firing off questions quicker than he could answer. He respected her, sure, and your pa too, but he’d rather keep what was left of his sanity. Just takin' in the sight of this place made his pockets ache.

Chandeliers dangled high above like crystal-studded stars, throwing soft light around the room. Gilded columns lined the walls, polished up so fine they seemed to look down on everybody else here. Tapestries hung alongside big, expensive-lookin' paintings—probably worth more than his whole ranch. The floor? It was slick as a lake after rain, shiny enough he’d bet a nickel it could trip even the steadiest cowboy.

Then there were the folks. Struttin’ around like proud peacocks, laughin' in polished tones that came off a little too uppity for his taste. Colors swirled around him—reds as bold as a fight, blues like icy temptation—colors he'd never even seen before danced across the floor. Reminded him a little of berries and fresh tomatoes, and just the thought got a chuckle outta him.

He’d never fit into this world, but it didn’t stop him from admirin’ its quirks now and then. Even so, this whole scene was like a country mile from his real life. He was just as sure he’d turn you into a cowgirl one day, but until then, he could appreciate the wonders of what money could do, even if he wouldn’t spend his hard-earned cash like this.

But there was one bright spot in all this: you.

There you were, right in the center of it all, falling into familiar voices and easy laughter. This was your world, and you looked like you belonged in it, talkin' to faces from your past who sized up the man beside you with curious glances. And yet, you smiled at them all—good and bad. Weren't you just the sweetest thing.

The cowboy stands across the ballroom, leaning against the wall, one foot tucked over the other. It's not that he didn't want to greet your folks, but your mama was a spitfire — hammering the two of you with more questions than he can count. He loved her, and your pa too, but he'd rather keep the last piece of his sanity tucked in his belt.

High society folks rubbed him wrong. Spoiled sons and daughters who’d had everything handed to 'em, struttin' through life without a lick of sense about hard work. Obnoxious, entitled, without a care for anyone who hadn’t grown up just like them. Jamie couldn’t stand it.

Yet somehow, out of all the men you coulda chosen, you picked him. What a thief, he thought with a quiet chuckle, his dark gaze never leavin' your face.

Course, he wasn’t all that innocent either—he’d done his damnedest to pull you away from this pampered life, wanted to whisk you off to the country, to his life, his world. And he’d caught you, good and proper. But that didn’t stop him from feelin' that familiar heat, the sharp taste of blood on his tongue from biting back the urge to snap at every wolf eyein' you tonight.

“Don't make a scene,” he murmured to himself like a man clingin' to a thin thread of patience.

He’d be lyin’ if he said he didn’t want you all to himself. Seein' you wrapped up in those fine silks, hair swept back in that way you liked best, lips painted in a soft color that made you glow... God, he wanted you. If he had it his way, you’d be in worn-out jeans, maybe one of his old flannels, smellin' of him and the wide open fields.

But he couldn’t tell you no. You hadn’t seen your family in months, and it just about broke his heart to see you so homesick. Jamie ain't one to go on about his old man, but if he learned one thing, it was this: happy wife, happy life. And you may not be his wife just yet, but he planned on changin' that real soon.

So to hell with all these other women, these high-class dames flittin' around the room. He didn’t care one bit about their money or their flirtin' glances. Jamie toyed with the silver pendant around his neck, tappin' his boot in time to the music.

Just then, a young woman drifted up, not much older than you, lips red as blood and curving into a sly smile. “Excuse me, sir,” she purred, “would you like to—”

“I’d be careful, sugar,” he cut in smooth, twirlin' his whiskey glass. “My wife fights. And I'd rather not see you back at your surgeon’s tonight.”

A crooked grin played on his lips as he raised his glass to his lips, his eyes catchin' yours across the room. There was only one woman he wanted on his arm, and she was wearin' a ring that matched his own.

You never thought you'd see him in a suit before your wedding, but it was quite the surprise — a pleasant one, at that.

Standing there in front of you, Jamie looked like he’d stepped right out of a magazine. Broad-shouldered, lean muscle wrapped in a midnight suit that clings just right, standing out among the tailored suits and smooth accents. The crisp white dress shirt only made his deep auburn hair look richer, slicked back smooth with every curl in place, and those dimples peeked out just as he caught you staring. His boots clack as he shifts, whiskey swirling in his hand, that silver band on his ring finger catching the glint of the chandelier. The sight of it alone sends any would-be admirer scuttling off with barely a second glance. He’s your plus one for the night, and the whole room knows it.

When he smiles, there’s a glint of trouble in his eyes, and those dimples—well, they could make even the stiffest folks around here swoon. He looks like the kind of man who just barely tolerates a tie, tugging at it with a smirk whenever he catches your gaze, as if to say, “You really think all this makes me any fancier?”

He’s still Jamie through and through: rugged under all that polish, with a bit of a roguish streak he could never quite hide. And tonight, even though he’s dressed up to meet your family and stand in this world of chandeliers and silk dresses, he’s every bit the man you fell for—charmingly untamed, with a quiet confidence that makes you weak in the knees.

Your friends try to pull you into old stories and polite gossip, but your eyes keep drifting back to him. Jamie’s gaze is steady, unwavering, as though he has little interest in the things around him. There’s a hint of a smirk playing at his lips every time he catches you staring, his dimples deepening, and that mischievous glint in his dark, loving eyes. You know that look too well. It’s possessive, fiercely protective, as if he’s daring anyone to even think about taking his bride-to-be.

The more you look at him, the more it pains you to look away. You try to play it cool, but he knows you too well—knew what to say, when to say it, and how to say it. It leaves you with thoughts from earlier in the day, making your knees weak all over again.

“My, my, he cleans up rather nicely,” a warm, familiar voice whistles beside you. “Don’t you agree, dear?” You jump, blinking back into the present, only to find your mother smiling knowingly.

“Distracted?” she teases, twirling you around to face her, an amused smile etched onto her red lips.

She glides past the group of dazzling damsels, fanning herself as she casts an appreciative glance toward Jamie. “Lord, honey,” she whispers in your ear, amused. “If he’s not about the most handsome thing I’ve ever seen—and the way he looks at you? It’s like he’s afraid the floor might steal you away.”

You laugh, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, but her words are truer than she knows. Jamie tips his glass toward you from across the room, raising it in a silent toast. There’s something soft in his expression—a flicker of mirth in his dark eyes.

You almost let them drown you, submerge you in their warmth. If not for the grating sound to your left.

"Who might that be?"

"I haven't seen him around."

"Should I ask him for a dance?"

"Do you think he's spoken for?"

"Of course, look at the jewel on his finger!"

"I quite fancy him. Shall I pursue him anyways?"

"Oh, how shameful~!"

Some of the girls here are looking his way—of course, they are. Jamie has that rugged charm, like he was carved out of southern dirt and bathed in the evening sun, with the wild confidence of a man who knows he’s got nothing to prove. His auburn hair, slicked back in a style that both respects the occasion and still says he’s a cowboy first, gives him a sharp, roguish look that’s almost out of place here, like a tiger in a cage.

But despite the glances, the obnoxious remarks, no one dares approach him. The way his eyes follow you, even from a distance, says more than words ever could. He isn’t here to be seen; he’s here for you.

Yet, it doesn’t make it any easier to hold your tongue. You’ve hosted these parties since the age of fourteen and know how people behave here—their promiscuous ways, and the men who can’t help but leer. High-class harlots looking for any man to pounce on, taken or not. Greasy men following women’s every move, provoked or not. You remember too well. This was the yearly matchmaking party hosted by four of the wealthiest families in the city, your family being one of them. It wouldn’t look good if you didn’t attend the event your household had built its reputation around.

You knew Jamie would settle on keeping to himself, yet you hadn’t thought your rugged companion would be the talk of the party. That alone makes the joy blossoming in your chest wilt. For once, it feels as though he isn’t just your fiancé, but everyone’s. Of course, you want everyone to love him as much as you do—but without undressing him with their winged eyes.

Just then, Jamie makes his way over, his familiar smirk making your heart skip a beat. “Sugar,” he says, poking the soft flesh of your cheek, his eyes gleaming with a familiar, mischievous warmth. When he finally makes his way back to you, he tips his drink up, raising a brow. “Sugarplum.”

His words go in one ear and out the other, turning fuzzy and static as they pass through your mind. A deep frown settles at the corners of your lips as exasperation bubbles over.

“Jamie, stop it!” you huff, swatting his hands away. “You’ll ruin my makeup, you damn brute.”

“Yeah, yeah…” he murmurs, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. But he doesn’t bother moving his hand from the top of your head, his fingers gently brushing through your hair as if daring you to protest again. You turn away, cheeks flushed, doing your best to regain the poise you usually wear like a crown.

Jamie notices the pout you're trying to hide, his lips curling in amusement. For all your princess-like composure, you’re showing more than you realize tonight. He leans down, his voice low and teasing.

“Don’t pout, pumpkin. Fix your face.”

You glare up at him, crossing your arms, but he just chuckles, reaching for your hand. Before you can react, he pulls you closer, his grip firm yet careful, as if he were holding something precious.

“Remember, Sugar,” he murmurs, giving your kiss a long, playful smooch. MUAH! “You’re the main character.”

With a playful glint in his eye, he twirls you around, his hand never leaving yours as he guides you in a slow, elegant spin. You can’t help but let out a surprised laugh, your frown dissolving as he twirls you like with practiced ease.

Only then had you decided.

That night was quite the surprise indeed—

A pleasant one at that.

©CozyMoko, all rights reserved. Don't repost my work on other platforms.

[seoyangi]

𝒪 nce in a thousand years ' 🎐 九尾狐

@qqmariztwsse @w0ny-d3w

[sugarbcnes]

⌕ www.saintels.co/webcamz/sintober2023/1

♱ 𝖘 𝖎 𝖓 𝖙 𝖔 𝖇 𝖊 𝖗 ♱

★ NOW SHOWING 🎞️ VOYEURISM

☆ starring miguel o’hara

☆ contains masturbation, ejaculation, watching another person masturbate, pet names. rushed writing. this is a drabble. 18+ MDNI.

☆ voyeurism is the practice of gaining sexual pleasure from watching others when they are naked or engaged in sexual activity.

there’s just something so pretty about it all. when his eyes aren’t screwed shut, he’s gazing at you from under dark lashes before he throws his head back onto the pillow.

you sit by the end of the bed on your knees, hands on the sheet between your thighs and lips parted to let out quiet pants as you watch miguel pump himself dry in his own fist. ribbons of thick cum that often paint your walls inside are milking down his knuckles.

“you like that, baby?” he rasps out.

he watches you chew on your nail, brows furrowed as you nod rapidly.

miguel letting you watch him pleasure himself was simply a treat.

you were a good girl. miguel knew it. he adored the way his own pleasure was the pure source of yours, and getting to watch him please himself was something you frequently begged him for.

he often gave you this pleasure to watch him when he thought you deserved it. the only rule — don’t touch yourself.

“fuck, amor,” he whispered under his breath before a loud groan rumbled from his throat. the last of his orgasm spurted out in loads to cover his beefy torso, muscles visually tightening as he tensed himself for his release.

when he sat up, he took in that of what a lustful mess you were. he could see the hearts in your eyes, practically feel the heat from your cheeks as you tried your best to control yourself.

he sits up and leans forward, softly cupping your warm cheeks.

“amor,” the whisper flows like silk as his pillowy lips place feathery kisses over your face.

you jolt slightly in surprise, a small gasp elicited from your lips as miguel runs two fingers over your folds.

he collects the slick on his digits and smirks as he brings them up to your face.

“enjoyed that did you?”.

you whine quietly at his teasing, the mess of your orgasm squelching as you squeeze your thighs together tightly.

[niilue]

Could I request Levi from AOT + dildos/toys plays + double penetration + male dom reader?

— levi ackerman • aot —

cw: dom reader, sub levi, dildo, toys play, double penetration, male reader, sweet reader.

niilue’s 3k event

levi's ass feels so hot and tight around my cock as i begin to thrust, faster and harder. i can feel the head of my dick pressing against his prostate, and he lets out a moan that sends shivers down my spine. i grab his hair roughly and yank his head back, watching as he arches his back further, offering himself to me completely.

my other hand finds its way between us, teasing at the entrance to his body before slipping inside, finding the thick, velvety length of the toy I'd prepared earlier. i push it against him, slowly at first, feeling the slick heat of his body as I push the dildo deeper and deeper inside. he lets out a gasp, his muscles tensing as he adjusts to the foreign intrusion.

"that's it, baby," i murmur, my voice rough with desire. "take it all." i begin to thrust the dildo in and out of him, harder and faster now, feeling his body stretch and accommodate me. I grab his hips, guiding him up onto his knees as I stand behind him, giving me deeper access to his ass. my cock is still buried within him, thrusting in time with the dildo, stretching him to his limits.

i lean down, my lips pressing against his ear. "you're so fucking amazing, levi," i whisper, my voice shaking with need. "i can't get enough of you." my other hand finds its way back to his cock, already hard and leaking pre-cum. I begin to stroke him in time with my thrusts, feeling him grow hotter and harder in my grip. "come for me, baby. show me how much you need this."

as if my words were a trigger, levi's body tenses and arches forward, his breath hitching in his throat. his fingers scrape against the mattress as he tries to steady himself, his ass clamping down on me in response to the building pressure within him. his moans fill the room, echoing off the walls and surrounding us like a symphony of desire.

as the pleasure overtakes him, his moans grow louder and more urgent. "i'm… i'm close… i need… more…" his voice is pleading, desperate, and I can feel the tension building in his body as he fights for release. i pick up the pace, thrusting harder and deeper into him with the dildo, my cock still buried inside him. "come for me, levi. let it go."

his ass clenches around me, squeezing tightly, and I can feel the heat building inside him. "please… more…" he gasps, his head falling back as his orgasm takes hold. his body shudders with release, his muscles relaxing as he cums around my cock and down the length of the dildo. the tension finally releases, and I collapse on top of him, panting heavily.

my cock twitches inside him, still hard and demanding more, but for now i'm content to just hold him and feel his body pressed against mine. "god, levi," i whisper, kissing the back of his neck. "you were amazing."

words count: 508

[chrissdollie]

‧ॱ ୨♡୧ ˚ farmers!daughter!reader and cowboy!matt ₊ ° ⊹

ノ　masterlist

ride -- wc: 2k ⊹˚₊ summary: with your daddy away one sunny afternoon, matthew sturniolo visits your family's cozy farm where he convinces you to join him for a horse ride. you nervously gallop through town together and find yourself falling for the boy your father may never approve of.

forbidden love trope, innocent!reader, rough exterior matt (with the sweetest heart), pink ribbons, flower picking, red and blue flannels, square dancing, animal lovers, daydreaming, handmade soap, crocheting