#i just wanted to draw someone in a cowboy hat and i decided it was gonna be tango

[fudgecake-charlie]

some small stuff from recently! sketches from when i was having a migraine and couldn't have my glasses on, and a little (vaguely) 1920's pearl design that i'm not gonna be doing anything with

[tomblythismyhusband]

hiiiii this is a request for billy!!!

what about a smutty fic where reader is riding billy while wearing his hat!? 🤍🤍

the only reason why i didn’t make this anon is so i can get the notif if you reply 😭😭

ride [billy the kid x fem!reader]

[summary]: billy the kid x fem!reader | When at a party your father was throwing, you meet Billy, a cowboy that spikes your interest.

[warnings]: 18+ MDNI, teasing, pnv, fingering, language, other smut warnings yk, edited this at 2am

[wc]: 2.8k

[note]: thank you sm for the request!! y’all are creative

You hated it when your father threw parties at the ranch. They always got too crowded, too loud, and way too dangerous. You see, cowboys and alcohol weren't always the best mix. Groping hands and lustful stares always came along with it. Your father always wanted you to be present at his little gatherings, to socialize or whatnot.

You dreaded small talk with the other girls present and weren’t interested in any of the drunken cowboys that always made fools of themselves trying to woo you. You stood there, arms crossed, pressed against the wall. Observing. The air was thick with smoke, the smell filling your lungs causing your nose to scrunch slightly.

“How’s it goin’ lil lady?” A voice sounded from your right, causing you to wince. You could practically smell the whiskey of the man’s breath without even turning to face him. Deciding to be polite you directed your attention to the man. It was a blonde cowboy. He was about 5’8”, not insanely tall but not short either. He had an unsettling feeling about him that made you feel immediately uncomfortable.

You gave him a strained smile. “It’s going well.”

The cowboy gave you a drunken smile, leaning his shoulder against the wall limply. “I like yer dress, lace is my favorite. Why… ain't you just a doll.”

You kept your smile, your cheeks hurting with tension at the forced action. “Thank you.” You replied, giving a curt nod.

The man drew closer, making your chest pump with anxiety. You always hated when men thought they could invade your space just because you were a woman. You took a slight step back causing the man to let out a low chuckle.

“You nervous doll? I ain’t gonna hurt ya. You know if you’d follow me I know a nice place we can… well you know….” He slurred, drawing one of his hands up to touch one of the strands of hair cascading over your shoulders. You jolted back, immediately slamming into someone.

Firm hands placed themselves on your shoulders as you ran into whoever it was. You turned your head, looking up quickly. “I’m sor-“

Your eyes connected with the bluest eyes you'd ever seen. You hadn’t thought the phrase “taking your breath away” was true until this moment. You couldn’t breathe. The man before you was gorgeous. Soft brown curls peaked out from under his hat that he wore, framing the sharp angles of his face nicely. The light freckles on his face indicating he’d been in the sun.

“You ok?” He said in a low voice, snapping you out of your trance. You glanced at the blonde cowboy who was still staring at you as if you were a piece of meat. The brown haired cowboy cocked an eyebrow, noticing your discomfort and pleading eyes. He cleared his throat and stared at the blonde man.

“Were you botherin’ my lady?” He asked accusingly towards the man, stepping slightly in front of you. God he was tall.. he seemed to tower over you. The blonde cowboy’s face immediately paled.

“N-no I wa-“ He stuttered.

“No? Then get the fuck out of here.” The brown haired cowboy snapped.

The blonde cowboy gave an incoherent mumble before storming away. You released the breath you were holding in and looked up at the gorgeous man who had just helped you.

“Thank you. I hate talking to men like that.” You sighed. The man laughed. (which made you realize how perfect his lips were as well)

“Men like that?” He chuckled.

You nodded. “Always too drunk and grabby all the time. No respect for anyone’s space.” You made a face of disgust that made the man before you flash another lopsided grin.

“Well.. anytime.” He gave you a smile “What’s your name?” The man asked, leaning up against the wall and crossing his arms. He stepped back, respectfully giving you room to talk. The action alone made your heart thump as your eyes trailed up his body. Even through his shirt you could tell he had some muscle to him.

“Oh- Uhm.. Y/n. Y/n Charles.” You nodded.

The man’s eyes widened. “Oh so this is your ranch? Your father’s always throwin’ parties like this huh?”

You gave him a weak smile. “Yep.. fun right?” You said sarcastically.

He let out another chuckle before looking at you again.

“Billy.” He said lowly, slightly bowing his head.

You tilted your head. Where had you heard that name before? You tried to jog your memory but it was no use. Maybe you had heard your father talking about him, or maybe some girls down at the salon.

“Billy..” You repeated, smiling up at him. “I like it.”

Billy chuckled. “Glad you like it.”

It was weird talking with Billy. You felt a bubble of desire in your stomach that you had never felt when talking to any other man. Now all of a sudden you were imagining his hands on your body, his lips on yours. You thought of his hair, wondering how it would feel if you’d drag your fingers through it.

You stared up at him, and he stared back. It wasn’t awkward, no, it was almost as if you both had an understanding. An understanding of mutual attraction. Billy wet his lips.

He leaned a bit closer, his scent filling your nose. “I know we just met but… your intrestin’ to me.” He said in a low voice.

A small smile pulled at your mouth. “I could say the same…”

Billy leaned in even closer, breath brushing the outside of your ear gently as he spoke. “We could go to your room.. get to know each other better?” His voice was rough, full of unsaid desires that made your heart palpate.

“Are you implying something a lady should be ashamed to talk about?” You teased in a whisper. Billy let out a low chuckle.

“Is that where your mind is at?” He taunted, meeting your gaze. You reached up your fingers and dragged them against the brim of his hat.

“Would it be bad if it was?” You smiled, cocking your head slightly. Billy smirked. He liked how playful you were being.

Billy’s hand found yours and he squeezed it gently, pulling you closer to him. “No… It wouldn’t.” He murmured, making your breath quicken.

You made a little tsk sound and pulled away from him. “You think I’m that easy?” You chuckled. “Nice try cowboy.” You cooed, tapping the tip of his nose playfully. Billy’s eyes widened briefly before his mouth pulled into a smirk.

“Your decision darlin’… See ya, gorgeous.” He tipped his hat then turned to walk away. You watched as he sauntered back into the crowds of people. You bit your lip as your mind replayed the interaction you just had with him. He had called you gorgeous. You couldn’t deny the fact that you found him insanely attractive- perfect even. Why were you playing hard to get? You weren’t sure why.

You continued to roam about the party, talking mindlessly with the ladies there. You tried your hardest to stay engaged in the conversations but your thoughts were still on Billy. Would it be so bad to fool around with him? Even if it was just for tonight? You couldn’t ignore the pulsing feeling in your core when you thought about it. Fuck it.

You excused yourself from whatever and whoever you were talking about quickly and started to glance around for Billy. It was still insanely crowded in the house, causing you to have to constantly say “excuse me” just to get anywhere. You searched the living room for his blue eyes but he wasn’t there. You felt a pang of fear that he had just decided to leave.

Gracefully, you slipped out of the living room and started to make your way down one of the dark hallways of your home. It was empty. The loud clamoring of the party was still heard as you walked, heels clicking on the creaking floorboards.

The bathroom door was also in this hall. You heard it open and turned. There he was.

“Billy-“ You said breathlessly. Billy’s mouth quirked up into a smirk.

“Y/n. Nice to see you again.” He joked.

You walked closer to him, tilting your head up to make eye contact. “Do you want to….”

“Yes.” He replied roughly, cutting you off before you could even finish. He grabbed your hand and led you down the hall and up the stairs, causing you to let out a little chuckle.

Once reaching the top of the stairs, you led the way, guiding him to your bedroom door. You opened it quickly. Billy was the first to step inside, pulling you in after him and immediately shutting the door. He looked around for a moment, taking note of what kind of girl you were. Your bed was made, the room tidy, and flower patterns on almost anything.

“Like it?” You teased, meeting his piercing gaze. He chuckled.

“Darlin’ do you have the key for the lock?”

You nodded quickly, striding over to your beside table to dig for the key in one of the drawers. Once found, you hurriedly locked the door with a simple click.

Upon hearing the sound Billy instantly grabbed your hips and pushed you up against the door. You dropped the key onto the ground, not caring where it ended up. You just wanted Billy right now.

You felt Billy’s bulge pressed into you, making you gasp. By no means were you a virgin- but you weren’t used to this.

“Fuck doll…” Billy rasped. “I don’t know how respectable I can be to you right now..” His grip on your hips tightened. Billy was restraining himself. Even though all he wanted to do right now was to tear off every piece of lacy cloth you were wearing he was holding himself back. You snaked your hands up to place themselves on his shoulders.

“Don’t hold back- I’m all yours tonight.” Before you could even get the last word out, his lips were on yours. The reassurance was helpful, making Billy feel as if you really wanted this. Which you did. Desperately.

Billy’s lips worked against yours with a roughness you’d never known you’d liked. One of his hands wrapped around your neck, pulling you flush against his lips even more. He tasted sweet, the softness of his mouth making you almost melt into him.

He still had his hat on- which you didn’t mind, you liked it. You soon felt his fingers leave your hips and neck and trail down and move to your back, where the laces of your corset were. His hands moved quickly, untying it with ease. You lifted your arms up and broke the kiss as he pulled it off of you and threw it to the side.

His hands then pulled at your dress as you took his lips back onto yours, unbuttoning and buttons needed and letting it slip off your shoulders and onto the floor. He parted from your lips to look down at the lacy cami and cloth shorts you were left in.

“Darlin’ you're just too much.” He groaned, his hands cupping your ass.

You smirked up at him and moved your hand to slide down one of his suspenders. “Let me see you.”

He complied instantly and started to tear off his clothes. When he lifted his shirt you could help but gasp. He was toned, muscled, scarred, perfect. He threw his shirt to the side and you reached a hand to trace a faint scar on his abdomen.

“Knife fight.” He said softly as he unzipped his pants, loving how curious you were. Your hands felt soft on his body, so gentle.

Your eyes flicked up to his. “You're perfect.” Billy chuckled at this, pulling your body closer to his as his pants fell to the ground.

“You're one to talk. I’ve ain’t never seen anyone as gorgeous as ya..” He reached up to take off his hat, but before he could throw it aside you grabbed it.

“Darlin what-?”

“Shh….” You coaxed, grabbing his hand and leading him to the bed. You pushed him gently to sit, and he immediately complied, liking this side of you. You put on the hat with a giggle and shimmied out of your cotton shorts. Billy’s cock twitched in his underwear at the sight. It felt like you were torturing him, depriving him of the touch he starved for.

Next you slid off your cami, letting your breasts sit nicely on your figure, throwing that to the side as well. You stepped forward and bent down slightly to place a palm on Billy’s bulge. He immediately let out a pained moan. “Your tourturin’ me doll.”

You giggled as you ran your other hand down his shoulder. “I could go even slower.” You teased.

Then unexpectedly Billy grabbed your hips and pulled you onto him, causing your let out a yelp of surprise. Billy immediately places his lips on one of your nipples, kissing and swirling his tongue around the area.

“No fair.” You gasped. His hands ran all over your body, as well as his lips.

Billy let out a chuckle, the voice sending a vibrating feeling through your body. “Another second and I would’ve gone crazy darlin’.”

You melted under his touch, his calloused fingertips adding to the realness of his hands. You pulled your fingers through his hair as he kissed your collarbones.

“I need more.” You whined.

Billy smirked. “And to think you had brushed me off the first time I offered this to you down stairs…..”

“Please-“ You begged again. Billy cupped your ass in response to lift you off of his lap so he could yank down the only fabric of his boxers separating him from your cunt.

You looked down at his cock as you straddled him. It was big, you’d never seen one this big before. You bit your lip, Billy squeezed your hips and kissed your jaw.

“Ready darlin’…” He mumbled against your skin. You nodded and he lifted you up, positioning your body over his throbbing cock. You sunk down letting out a strained moan as he filled you up. You were now sitting entirely on him, stretching out the walls of your soaked cunt.

“Take me s’good.” Billy rasped as you started to grind your hips. One of your hands flew up to hold Billy’s hat that still was placed snug on your head. You were so wet he slid right in, no issue. You slowly began to move up and down with Billy assisting you by lifting your hips.

You tilted your head back, squeezing your eyes shut, still keeping the hat on your head. Breathy moans escaped your lips as you moved. Billy picked up the pace, slamming you harder down onto his cock rhythmically.

“Fuck-“ You whimpered as he let out a groan.

“Ride me so good..” He mumbled. His own head was limp as he moved you faster and faster on his cock. Right now you were perfect. So tight. Molded perfectly for him. Your free hand dug into his shoulder. The nail marks left on him would be deep by the end of this.

You rode him harder as tears prickled in your eyes. Every time he slammed into you your body vibrates with pleasure. The tip of his cock hitting your g-spot with precision.

Billy took one of his hands off your hips and moved it to start massaging circles on your clit, adding to the pleasure. You paused your moment for a moment, not expecting the added stimulation. You head slumped onto Billy’s shoulder, body shaking.

You felt Billy’s mouth brush against your ear. "C' mon darlin’.. I’m almost there… You're doing so well.” He praised.

You gave a weak nod and started to move again, a throaty moan escaping Billy’s lips. With his fingers on your clit and his cock slamming your walls you were in heaven.

“Almost there doll.” He groaned again, kissing your neck as you moved on him, your stamina decreasing by the second. You felt the knot in your stomach tighten, a sign that you were getting closer.

“Billy-“ You breathed, arching your back, holding his hat still firm on your head.

“I know darlin’, I know..” He murmured as he closed his eyes and let his mouth fall open. You watched as he came, filling your already overstimulated cunt with his cum. Your orgasm hit you as well, sending your body into a fit of shakiness.

You became still, his cock still throbbing with pleasure as you clung to him, your bodies slick with sweat. Billy brushed some of your hair from your forehead and kissed it.

“I like how you kept my hat on.” Billy smirked, looking down at you. “Suits ya.”

You let out a breathless chuckle. “Thank you.”

You tilted your head up to kiss his soft lips. He seemed so tender now, so gentle.

Finally after a while of kissing you slid off of him, cum dripping down your thighs.

“When can I see you again Y/n?” He drawled, holding your waist so you were still close to him.

“Anytime you want to get your hat back.” You teased.

Billy’s eyebrows raised with amusement. “You keepin’ it?”

You kissed his nose. “It’s mine now.”

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Cowboy hat rule p.1

Hii guys I hope you enjoy this idea I had about Daniel as a cowboy :)

As you and your friends step out of the car, the heat of the Texas evening wraps around you like a warm embrace. The sun is dipping low on the horizon, casting a golden glow across the landscape. You can feel a mix of excitement and nerves fluttering in your stomach. Your friend wanted to celebrate her bachelorette party in style, and she chose the lively, rugged charm of a Texas rodeo and bar. Raised in the city, you don’t really know what to expect, but you’re ready to dive in and have fun.

You’ve dressed for the occasion in a flowy sundress that brushes against your legs with each step and a pair of borrowed cowboy boots. Your friend even convinced you to wear a wide-brimmed hat, which feels surprisingly good on your head.

As you and your friends enter the bar, you’re immediately hit by the thumping beat of country music and the cheerful shouts of people having a good time. The bar is filled with laughter, dancing, and a sea of cowboy hats. It’s like stepping into a different world.

Your friend leads the way to the dance floor, and you find yourself being pulled into the crowd, the infectious energy around you quickly washing away any hesitation. You start to dance, awkwardly at first, but soon you find the rhythm. You spin and twirl with your friends, the music guiding your movements. The joy on your friend’s face makes you smile, and soon you’re laughing along with her, letting the night take over.

After a few songs, you decide to take a break and head to the bar. As you wait for the bartender, you glance around, taking in the sights and sounds of the busy bar.

That’s when you notice him.

He’s leaning against the bar a few feet away, his tall frame relaxed and confident. He’s wearing a plaid shirt that fits snugly over his broad shoulders and jeans that hug his hips just right. His cowboy hat is tilted low, but you can still see his warm brown eyes beneath it. They’re sparkling with amusement as he watches you, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

“New around here?” he asks, his voice smooth and deep, with that unmistakable Texas drawl.

You nod, feeling a blush creeping up your cheeks. “Is it that obvious?”

He chuckles, and the sound is rich and inviting. “Just a bit. But don’t worry, you fit right in. I’m Daniel, by the way.”

“I’m Y/N,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady.

Daniel’s smile widens. “Well, Y/N, you look like you’re having a good time. It’s nice to see someone enjoying themselves as much as you are.”

You laugh, still a little shy under his gaze. “I guess I’m just trying to take it all in. This is… different from what I’m used to.”

“I bet it is,” he says, his eyes never leaving yours. “But I have to say, you look really good in that hat. Almost like it was made for you.”

You bite your lip, feeling your cheeks heat up even more. His words are simple, but there’s something in the way he says them that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Thanks,” you murmur, looking down at your drink. “It’s not really mine, though. I borrowed it.”

Daniel leans in a little closer, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. “Doesn’t matter. It looks perfect on you. And I think you’d look even better in mine.”

Before you can respond, he reaches up and takes off his own hat, placing it gently on your head. His fingers brush against your hair as he adjusts it, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. The hat is warm from his body, and it smells faintly of leather and something else—something that’s just him.

“There,” he says, stepping back to admire his work. “Now that’s a sight. You look incredible.”

Your heart is racing now, the room around you fading into the background. All you can focus on is Daniel and the intensity of his gaze. There’s a spark between you, something electric that’s drawing you closer to him.

“I don’t know about that,” you say softly, your voice almost lost in the noise of the bar.

“I do,” Daniel replies, his eyes darkening slightly. He moves closer, his hand finding your waist, his touch firm and warm. “I know exactly how good you look, and I’m not about to let anyone else in this bar get a better view than me.” "How about this," he says, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "I promise to keep you entertained tonight. We can start with a drink and maybe a dance or two. What do you say?"

You feel a rush of heat at his words, a mix of desire and excitement pooling in your stomach. You’ve never met someone so bold, so confident, and it’s thrilling.

“What if I’m not a very good dancer?” you whisper, looking up at him through your lashes.

Daniel’s smile turns wicked, and he leans in even closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “Then it’s a good thing I am. Just follow my lead, darlin’.”

With that, he guides you onto the dance floor, his hand still resting on your waist. The music slows down, and he pulls you closer, his other hand finding yours. You can feel the heat of his body against yours, and your heart is racing so fast you’re sure he can hear it.

As you start to move, you realize that dancing with Daniel is effortless. He’s a natural, leading you with confidence and ease. You follow his movements, your bodies swaying together in perfect rhythm. Every touch sends a jolt of electricity through you, and you can’t help but lean into him, your head resting against his chest.

For a while, you just dance, lost in the music and the feel of his body against yours. You’ve never felt like this before—so alive, so connected to someone you’ve just met. It’s intoxicating, and you never want it to end.

Eventually, Daniel pulls back just enough to look down at you, his eyes dark and intense. “You have no idea how much I’ve enjoyed tonight,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing lightly over your lower back.

“Me too,” you reply, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t think I would, but I have.”

“I’m glad,” he says softly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Because I’ve been waiting all night to do this.”

Before you can ask what he means, he dips his head and captures your lips with his. The kiss is slow and deep, his lips moving against yours with a tenderness that makes your knees weak. You melt into him, your arms wrapping around his neck as you kiss him back. His hand tightens on your waist, pulling you even closer, and you feel a wave of desire crash over you.

The world around you disappears. There’s only Daniel, his lips on yours, his body pressed against you. You can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but kiss him back with everything you have.

When he finally pulls away, you’re both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you try to catch your breath. “Wow,” you murmur, your eyes still closed.

“Yeah,” Daniel agrees, his voice low and husky. “Wow.”

You open your eyes and smile up at him, feeling a rush of warmth in your chest. But then you hear your friends calling your name, and reality comes crashing back in. You have to go.

“I—” you start, but Daniel cuts you off with a soft kiss.

“I know,” he says, his voice filled with understanding. “But this isn’t goodbye. Not by a long shot.”

He reaches up and adjusts his hat on your head, his fingers brushing against your skin. “Keep the hat,” he says with a grin. “Consider it a promise that we’ll see each other again.”

You nod, unable to find the words to express how much you want that to be true. “I’ll hold you to it,” you finally say, your voice trembling slightly.

Daniel leans in for one last kiss, his lips lingering on yours for a moment before he pulls away. “I’m counting on it, darlin’.”

With that, you reluctantly step away from him, your heart aching as you join your friends. As you head toward the door, you can’t help but look back one last time. Daniel is watching you, a smile on his lips and a promise in his eyes.

As you step out into the warm Texas night, his hat still on your head, you know this isn’t the end. Not by a long shot.

Here's part 2

[dreamescapeswriting]

Save A Horse Ride A Cowboy ~ SCB

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

PAIRING: Changbin x Fem!Reader

GENRE: Non!Idol AU, Established relationships, smut (MINORS DNI), sex at a party together, oral (both m and f receiving) riding, unprotected sex, lots of cute nicknames, dirty talk

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - June 2023

⤜MASTERLIST

"Who even wants a fancy dress party at our age?" You grumbled as you brushed off the crumbs that someone had just drunkenly spilt all over your new outfit. It had taken you about four months to find the perfect cowgirl outfit and you were going to be damned if you were going to let some sloppy drunken arsehole ruin it with the food he'd been eating. 

"Apparently your boyfriend's best friend." Felix quipped from beside you, you did your best not to roll your eyes toward the back of your head as you usually would with the mention of your boyfriend's best friend. Wooyoung hadn't always been your go-to "favourite" person in the world and most of his parties almost always ended in someone getting hurt...That someone is your boyfriend who would do anything Wooyoung asked him to do. 

"Wooyoung isn't exactly the most mature so I guess it's to be expected," You winked playfully at Felix. It was always playful figs between you and Wooyoung, he accused you of stealing Changbin from him while you'd accuse him of doing the same thing. There was never any malicious intent behind any of the things you would say about Wooyoung and you and he both knew that.

"You love me though, I mean. You get to look completely stunning as a cowgirl," Wooyoung whispered as he walked behind you and Felix, smirking when he saw you jump a little and struggled not to spill your drink all over the floor.

"Where's your horse anyway? I would have expected Changbin to be glued to your side in this little ensemble." Wooyoung couldn't resist the urge to take in the sight of you and he bit down on his lip as he did so. The two of you had decided to come as a couples outfit, cowboy and cowgirl for the night but everyone had half-expected Changbin to come as the horse you were going to ride. Your outfit wasn't exactly the most revealing thing in the world but it did happen to push your boobs up so much it made them look bigger than they really were and the black dress clung to your body perfectly.

"He hasn't seen me yet, we left separately." You giggled as Wooyoung wiggled his eyebrows at you, smirking as you shook your head at him. The one thing about Wooyoung was that he was a massive flirt both in front of Changbin and when his friend wasn't around, all in a playful manner of course.

"So, what you're saying is. Right now, you're a free woman?!" He called out before dramatically wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest your hands laid flat against his chest as you giggled trying to push away from him.

"I shall steal you from that mean man Changbin and we shall run off into the sunset together!" He yelled out rather confidently, drawing the attention of some other people that were around you all as you let out a small groan.

"I don't think so." Changbin cried out from the doorway, your eyes landing on him and scanning over the outfit he was wearing. There the man of your dreams stood in an all-black outfit, black jeans followed by a black western yoke with tassels along the arms and the front of his chest. That wasn't the best part though, no, the best part was the black cowboy hat he was sporting which you could have sworn was sending butterflies throughout your whole body.

"My hero," You whimpered sprinting over to your boyfriend and collapsing into his arms as he let out a deep chuckle that you could feel in the side of your face.

"You look great tonight," He practically growled into your ear, his hands wasting no time in running down your sides and grabbing onto your hips as he let out a low groan for you to hear. On many occasions, Changbin had expressed how much he loved your hips, your waist, your breasts...Your everything. There wasn't a single part of your body that Changbin didn't fall in love with every time he saw you, there was something each time.

"You do too," You whimpered feeling your body beginning to heat up at the sudden attention that you were getting from him and he smirked down at you, biting down on his lip a little.

"I know that look," You gasped out as his hands began to run down your sides until they rested on your ass and he grabbed a handful of what was "his". His hands on your body were enough to make your eyes roll back and your legs shake, you were so desperate for him and you didn't care who saw. His hands continued to grab onto your ass, softly rubbing against the skin under your dress until it finally stopped and you instantly knew why,

"Changbin..." You trailed off, realising he knew you weren't wearing any underwear under the cowgirl dress and his hands were suddenly pulling you tighter against him.

"We're going to dance," Changbin told Felix and Wooyoung who both shrugged and went back to talking among themselves but as soon as Changbin took your hand in his you knew you weren't going to dance.

"You've been naughty." He suddenly told you as he tightened his grip on your hand, dragging you through the crowded living space and toward the stairs that led up to Wooyoung's bedrooms.

"We're not in our own home," You reminded him as you eyed him up suspiciously as he continued to pull you in the direction of one of the many guest rooms inside of Wooyoungs house. It wasn't the first time the two of you had fooled around here and you were almost sure it wasn't going to be the last.

"I don't care," He smirked as he pushed you into one of the rooms before shutting and locking the door behind himself. The moment the door was locked his hands found your hips and you were being pushed against one of the walls, your eyes locking onto Changbin's for the first time since the kitchen and you noticed how dark they were.

"Fuck, you're so hot when you're like this." You breathed out before running your hands over his cheeks and bringing him into a desperate kiss. Your hands began to desperately touch and grab at one another, your fingers taking off the hat he was wearing and throwing it somewhere in the room,

"How about we save a horse and you ride a cowboy?" Changbin chuckled darkly at you as you felt your whole body aflame, whimpering a little as you stared up at him your heart racing against your chest as you nodded your head.

"I'd love to." Before you could move Changbin was pushing you onto the edge of the bed, lifting your feet up to sit on the edge as he smirked down at you.

"What a meal," He growled before sinking onto his knees in front of you., his head buried between your thighs as he began eating you out like a man starved. Your hands slapped against his shoulder as your back arched away from the bed, you couldn't remember the last time Changbin had eaten you out like this. His fingers were already pulsing inside of you at a rapid rate and your cunt was tightening around him with each thrust making your head spin.

"Changbin!" You cried out as you hit his shoulder again, your eyes squeezing shut as you began to feel yourself losing focus on him as you gave in to the feeling.

"Fuck, you always taste so fucking good," He growled as he swirled his tongue around your clit, looking up at you as you moaned his name out again,

"S-Seo Changbin, we have to be quick and quiet." You moaned out, your fingers beginning to claw at the shirt he was wearing. If anyone found out that the two of you were fucking upstairs you'd never hear the end of it but it felt too good to stop and be quick. You wanted him and you wanted him all night long if he could handle it.

"I love when you say my name like that." He moaned out against your clit making your head spin as you rolled it back against the sheets.

"Cum for me baby," He groaned out as he thrust his fingers into you, rubbing right against your g-spot as you whimpered a little. Your legs already beginning to wriggle against him as you felt your orgasm building. A few more strokes and you were going to cum you could already feel it. Without warning you grabbed him by his hair, pulling him even closer to your cunt as he began to suck on your clit. Your back arched away from the bed as you did your best to muffle the sound of your screams. 

"Good girl," He moaned out against you as your body relaxed against the sheets, your whole body spasming as he looked down at you with a proud look on his face. Changbin took great pride in being able to make you cum and in fact, he'd been getting rather cocky with his actions as of late.

"You're so cocky but we both know I make you cum faster," You quipped at him, getting up onto your feet - albeit a little shakey - but you pushed him down onto the same spot you'd been previously laying and smirked at him. You began to pull him free from his pants before taking his cock in your hand and beginning to pump him delicately.

"Fuck," He hisses out as you slowly began to pump him in your hand, slowly leaning down and running your tongue along the head of his cock making his balls tighten. As soon as his hips bucked a little you took him deep into your throat, looking up at him as he groaned and moaned your name out. He let his head roll back giving into the way your mouth felt so warm and wet around him and he let out a groan.

"D-Don't stop." He hisses out as you began to suck on the tip of his cock harshly while pumping the rest of his cock hard with your hand and humming around him. The pleasure continued to build and Changbin could have sworn his eyes were going to roll to the back of his head but it wasn't until you took him to the back of your throat again that he was pushing you off.

  "R-Ride me," He begged, scooting back on the bed as he moved to the headboard and lay his head down on the pillows you let out a giggle at the sight of him.

"My stuttering cowboy," You smirked, kneeling above him as you lined the head of his dick up with your cunt, looking him in the eyes before slowly - torturing slow - sinking down onto him taking him in by an inexorable inch.

"Jesus, it's like you were made for me." He groaned out as his hands landed on your waist, your eyes finding his as you let out a low moan.

"C-Changbin," You moaned out as you leaned down to kiss him, tightening around him as you felt him hitting deeper than before. You breathe into each other's mouths as he continues to push up into you, hitting deeper each time. Every inch made it feel as though he was rearranging your guts and you could barely take it as you clawed onto his shirt.

"Yn," He chokes out as he looks at you, your hips stuttering before you began to find a rhythm. As soon as you did you began to rock back and forth against him, one hand gripping onto his chest while the other used the headboard to steady yourself.

"Oh fuck, you just have to take all of me. You're a little fucking show off," He grunted as he looked up at you, your hips wiggling a little as you pulled up and down on him.

"Oh my god," You moaned out as your nails sink into his chest, rolling your head back as you began to rock back and forth on him,

"You feel so fucking good, Yn. Such a perfect pussy," He moaned out as he lifted his hips up meeting yours as you let out a small squeal.

"Changbin," You whispered as you carefully began to get onto your feet while keeping him inside, squatting down against him and holding back your screams. His head fell back against the sheets as he looked up at you, you looked angelic the way you were riding him and he could already feel his balls tightening at the sight of you.

"You're fucking incredible." His eyes began to roll to the back of his head as you gripped him tight, your ass slapping off his hips as you continued to fuck yourself.

"You're so big," You moaned out looking down at him as you continued to let yourself sink down on him,

"You can take it though baby, You take it so fucking well," He moaned out as he looked at you. With the sound of your skin slapping against his he knew he was getting closer,

"Jesus," He groaned out as he reaches up and rips the top of the dress open exposing your chest to him as he began to play with your tits. One hand was on your nipples as he pulled and twisted on one while the other hand snaked between your legs and began to rub your swollen clit. 

"Will you cum for me, Un?" He pleaded with you, looking at you as your hips stuttered ever so slightly.

"C-Changbin," You cried out as you felt yourself tightening around him and your orgasm building higher and higher,

"I want to feel you cum for me," He growled out as he began to buck himself against you, you tightened and he smirked at you knowing exactly what was going to come next.

"Whose girl are you baby?" Your eyes landed on him as you let out a small whine of his name.

"Yours! Yours!"

"That's right, you're all fucking mine." He growled out as he began to buck against your roughly. Your movements began to get sloppy as you roughly slammed yourself down against him harder and harder. Your body began to shake and he snaked his arms around your waist, sinking you down on him as you cum around him. 

"Changbin! Oh, fuck, Changbin!" That was all he needed for his balls to tighten and he exploded inside of you, his forehead resting on your shoulder as you collapsed onto him panting heavily.

"That..." You started off as you tried to catch your breath,

"Was fucking incredible." You finished before letting out a tidy giggle and slowly pulling off of your boyfriend, laying down on the space beside him as he spooned you from behind.

"You are," He whispered before placing a small kiss on your lower ear and chuckling a little as you let out a small whine.

"Think we can stay here all night and sneak out in the morning? I'm too tired," You mumbled as you cuddled into the sheets, letting your eyes flutter shut and not even hearing Changbin's response.

Tagline: @chiisaiblog​ @hanasonmi​ @sw33tnight​ @taestannie​ @army24--7​ @acciocriativity​ @scarletemeterio​ @halesandy​ @aerastus​ @laylasbunbunny​ @critssq​ @lenfilms​ @btsiguess-kpop​

[vodika-vibes]

Cowboy Casanova

Summary: When you decided to move to the middle of nowhere to get some perspective in your life, you expect to be bored out of your mind. You definitely don’t expect Bacara.

Pairing: Commander Bacara x F!Reader

Word Count: 4123

Warnings: Smut, dom/sub dynamics, biting, hints of a breeding kink

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @dukeoftheblackstar @kimiheartblade @mire-draws-things

A/N: This started out at one thing, turned into another, which turned into a third thing, and anyway it's now what it was supposed to be so I had to change the name, which makes me sad. The Original name was Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy. Anyway! I hope you like my sin. Also, this is a western au because...I don't have a reason other than Bacara with a cowboy hat. I'm sorry. Anyway, no requests got done today because of this. Note, this isn't edited - so if you see any errors, no you didn't.

“You’re staring,”

“Am not.” You reply absently as you drag your gaze across Bacara’s bare chest, your eyes lingering first on his dog tags and then on the nipple piercings that he got when he lost a bet.

He chuckles, low and deep, “You’re still staring.”

“If you don’t want to be stared at, then you should put on a shirt.” You counter, unrepentant.

Bacara arches a brow and flings a rag at your face, making you sputter and scrunch up your nose, “You wouldn’t say that if I was staring at you.”

“Of course not. Double standards are a thing after all.”

He rolls his eyes and walks over to you, leaning into your personal space as he picks up his rag again, a smug smirk crossing his face when your gaze drops to his chest and then his waist, before snapping back to his face, “See something you like, city mouse?”

Your face heats, but you keep your gaze locked with his, “Just worried that your pants are going to fall down since they’re hanging so low.”

“Fashion choice,” Bacara replies with a shrug, as he walks away from you and back over to the machine he’s trying to make work, “Besides, it’s hot as balls out here, and I hate the feel of my shirt sticking to my skin.”

Well, he’s not wrong about that.

Bacara leans back into the engine block and reaches in, “Why don’t you just pay someone to come and fix it?” You ask.

“You have the money for some repair man from the city to drive out here and fix this? Cause I sure as hell don’t.”

“You own, like, a dozen cows.”

“There are three dozen of them, actually.”

“That’s not the point that you think it is.”

He laughs and pulls back, “Yeah, yeah. I know. Come here, I need a small hand.”

“I don’t fix things, Bacara.” You warn, though you do hop off the bale of hay that you’ve been sitting on and walk over to him.

“You need to learn, city mouse. What happens if something breaks in your home?”

“Uh, I’ll call you.”

“What if I’m not available?”

“Why wouldn’t you be available?”

“Believe it or not, I don’t exist to come running at your beck and call.” Bacara replies dryly.

“What? Wow! Really?” You marvel sarcastically, and then you yelp when he pinches your side. “Rude!”

“Alright, Little Miss Sass, I need you to reach into there and feel around for any loose wires.” Bacara explains as he presses his chest against your back and points where he needs your help.

“Wires? I’m not going to get electrocuted, am I?” You ask as you try, really, really hard to not get distracted at the feel of him pressed against you.

He shoots you a look, “Of course not. It’s totally safe.”

“Fiiine.” You sigh out as you reach into the opening and feel around blindly, “Um...okay, I found a wire.”

“Excellent work,” His voice is low against your ear, and you can’t help but shiver. Embarrassingly, he notices and a quiet chuckle falls from him, “I need you to follow the wire and tell me if it’s connected on both ends.”

You ignore him, as best as you can, and feel around for a moment, “I...think so? It doesn’t feel loose at least.”

“Damn, I was hoping you’d say the opposite. Alright, pretty girl. You’re done. This is now, officially, someone elses problem.”

You pull your hand out and make a face at the oil on your fingers, “I thought you didn’t want to pay-”

“I don’t, which is why I’ll have Neyo come and fix it.”

“Ripping off your own brothers, shame-”

“What are brothers for if not a little unpaid labor every now and then?” Bacara asks rhetorically, “Come on, you can come inside and get that stuff off your hand.” He picks his hat up off his work table, and pauses before setting it on his head.

He shoots you a small smirk, and drops his hat on your head, it immediately tilts over your eyes, and you use the back of your hand to tilt the rim back so you can look at him, “Well, how do I look?” You ask with a small grin.

Bacara lazily drags his gaze across your body, his smirk growing, “Hot as hell,” He drawls.

Your face heats again. Still, you’re not able to stop the delight from sliding across your face, “Well, thank you~”

He stares at you for a moment longer, and then motions for you to follow him. It’s kind of unnecessary, you could navigate Bacara’s ranch blindfolded and drunk, but you do appreciate being able to walk with him.

After you get yourself cleaned up, which takes a lot longer than you anticipated since the oil just did not want to come off your hands, you meander from the guest bedroom, down the hall, and into the kitchen.

He’s still not wearing a shirt, and you’re beginning to think that he’s walking around like that intentionally. “Did you manage to get the oil off?” Bacara asks as he turns to face you.

“Yeah, eventually. The bottle of special soap was empty, so I had to make some more real quick.” You shrug easily as you sink into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. You don’t mind, you normally make it for him anyway.

Your parents would be so proud. Thousands of credits spent on a fancy Chem degree...and you use it mixing oil removing soap.

“Sorry about that, I should have checked earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You fold your legs under you, and your attention lands on something interesting on the table.

Now. Bacara is a rancher, there’s always new and interesting things laying around his house that he needs to explain to you. Over the year that you’ve been friends with him, you’ve learned a lot about ranching and about the things that he needs to do his job well.

This, however, is new.

“Bacara?” You sound slightly bemused as you reach across the table and hook a finger under, surprisingly silky, maroon rope, “What’s this for?” You ask as you turn your gaze to him.

Unless your eyes are deceiving you, there’s a hint of a blush on his face.

“It’s a joke gift. From Cody.” Bacara replies as he walks over to the table and picks up the rope, only to hesitate for a moment, “Although-” he murmurs quietly, as if to himself, as he pulls some of the rope out and lays it across your wrist, “It would look amazing wrapped around your wrists.”

You tilt your head and your mouth is slightly dry, you’re pretty sure that his comment was meant to be an inside thought, not an outside one, but it’s not like you can unring that bell.

“I think it’d look better wrapped around yours.” You blurt, and his gaze snaps to meet yours, “The color would look amazing against your skin tone.” You add, sheepishly.

He stares at you, and you stare right back at him.

And just as you’re about to apologize, Bacara smirks.

“Alright.”

You blink at him, “Alright?”

“Alright. Lets see what you’re capable of.”

You blink at him again. And then a third time as his words process, “Wait! Really?”

“Really. Unless you think you can’t handle it.”

“I can handle it,” You shoot back, “The question is can you?”

He folds his arms across his broad chest, “Let’s make this a little more fun-”

“-more fun then you getting tied up?”

His grin is predatory and sharp, “I don’t beg. Ever. For anyone.” He advances on you, “However, if you can make me beg in say...an hour, you win this little challenge and I’ll do whatever you want for a week.”

“You already do whatever I want, Bacara.” You point out.

“Unimportant.” He replies, “But when you lose-”

“-if. If I lose-”

His gaze locks with yours and his grin becomes even more predatory, “When you lose,” Bacara repeats, “I get two hours to make you beg for me, and when I win you’ll do whatever I want for a week.”

“Hold on now! How come you get two hours and I only get one?” You demand.

“Because I’m going to spend the first hour with my face buried in your pussy, that’s why.”

Your entire thought process screeches to a halt as your train of thought derails. “...oh.”

“So what do you say, city mouse? Do we have a deal?”

And, really, there’s only one thing you can say to that, “Deal.”

Bacara advances on you again, essentially crowding you, as he walks you through his home and into his bedroom. His eyes a glittering with arousal, but he doesn’t touch you, as much as you can tell that he wants to.

He kicks the bedroom door shut and turns on the lamp so there’s some light in the room, and then he folds his arms and waits.

You gaze at him thoughtfully, a small smile on your lips, “You’re wearing too much. Strip.”

His gaze is hot as it lingers on your face, “Yes ma’am,”

You consider watching him strip for a moment, but instead turn to the bed and start setting up the rope, while pulling out your phone to look up safe ways to tie him up.

“Alright,” You murmur to yourself as you make sure the ropes are secure around the bed frame, and you climb off the bed to focus your attention on him, “Pick a position that’s comfortable for you, Bacara.” You say as you carefully don’t take your eyes off his face.

“Not even gonna steal a peek, kitten?” Bacara asks, as he moves passed you and settles on the bed, with his back pressed against the headboard.

“I lady doesn’t peek, Bacara,” You sniff.

“Oh? Do they tie up their friends.”

“I can leave you know.”

He laughs and grabs your wrist to tug you onto the bed, you tumble against him, your hands settling on his shoulders, as he reaches around you to settle his hand on the back of your neck, “I want you to look, kitten. After all, I need to know if I meet your approval.” You have to shift to get more comfortable, eventually straddling his thigh so you’re not twisted uncomfortably.

You roll your eyes, but slowly drag your gaze down his chest, a nearly silent sigh of delight falling from you when you see that he’s still wearing his dog tags. Bacara chuckles lowly, and you hurriedly continue your visual perusal of the man beneath you.

He’s solid, your Bacara. Oh sure, he has a belly, but you’re pretty sure that he’s solid muscle, like the professional weight lifters you used to know in college. Big, beefy, and could lift you with one arm if he was so inclined.

Absently you trail your fingers down his chest, teasingly skirting around the nipple piercings, and down his stomach, and then your gaze lands on his cock.

Already erect and with precum leaking from the head.

He’s gorgeous.

But that’s not what catches your attention. No. What catches your attention is the golden piercings.

You blink at the piercings dumbly for a moment. “Holy shit Bacara.” You blurt, “Why didn’t you say that you had cock piercings?”

“Not really something that comes up in polite conversations,” He counters with a grin.

“But...If I had know then my-” You cut yourself off before you finish the thought, and you snap your gaze to his face, “Never mind.”

“Oh no, you definitely need to finish that thought, kitten.” Bacara practically purrs, “Come on, your what?”

“Nope. Not going there.” You shift your weight slightly, and reach down to grab his wrist, but Bacara doesn’t let you move it. “Really?”

He smirks, “Tell me, and I’ll let you tie me up.”

“Don’t you automatically lose if you don’t let me even try?” You try to bargain.

His smirk widens, “No, because I saw that look on your face. You want my face in your pussy.”

Damn him for being right.

“Fine,” You drag the word out, “I might have fantasized about you before. Maybe.”

He smirks smugly, “Knew it. Alright, you may continue.”

“I’m pretty sure that I’m supposed to be the one in control right now.” You counter, even as you bring his hand to the headboard and carefully loop the rope around his wrist.

Bacara hums and his still free hand comes up to caress your hip, “Oh, kitten. I need you to understand that I’m letting you do this. But I need you to know that I’m the one in control here, not you.”

Your fingers slip on the rope, “I’m going to pretend that you didn’t say that for the sake of the challenge.” You finally say once you finish with your knot, “How’s that? Too tight?”

Bacara tugs at the rope experimentally, “Good enough.” He finally says, as he lifts his other hand to the headboard.

You’re a lot faster this time, now that you know what you’re doing, and you sit back on your heels as you look at him. “I was right,” You finally say as you climb off of him so you’re able to peel your own clothes off.

“Bout what?” Bacara asks as he watches you strip with hungry eyes.

“That color does look amazing against your skin.”

He hums his understanding, tilting his head so he’s able to watch you push your shorts and panties down your legs. “I can just about guarantee that it’s going to look much better against yours.”

You set your clothes on a chair and climb on the end of the bed, settling yourself between his feet.

Bacara looks completely relaxed, and you’re beginning to accept that he was right, he is the one in control here, as much as it might seem like you are. “Just gonna sit there and stare at me, kitten?” He drawls.

“I’m thinking.”

“Do you need some direction?” He offers, “Because I can do that.”

“I’m not giving up yet, Bacara.” You counter as you slide up so that you’re better able to reach him, your fingers feather light as you glide them across his thigh.

His muscle twitches under your touch, “Yet, huh.” Bacara says with a small smirk, “Good to know.”

Finally fed up with his comments, you surge up and crash your lips against his. Your hands wander across his chest, lightly flicking his piercings, as you trail your tongue across his lower lip.

You’re almost surprised when he takes control of the kiss.

Almost.

He catches your lower lip between his teeth, and nips you roughly enough that a squeak falls from you. Bacara then soothes the sore spot with a lazy swipe of his tongue, and the moment you part your lips for him, his tongue slides against your own.

He maps out your mouth with a single minded intensity that leaves you moaning, and encourages you to straddle him again. When you break the kiss, you’re slightly breathless, and his gaze is dark as is slides across your face.

“You should give up, kitten.” Bacara purrs.

You shake your head, “I can still win.”

He laughs, “You’re already straddling me, and we haven’t done much more than kissing.”

“That-”

“I’ll make you feel so good, kitten.” He purrs as he tugs his wrist once, causing the knot to unravel. He presses his hand against the small of your back, and pulls you closer, and you shiver when you feel his hard erection pressed against you.

Unthinkingly, you grind against him, the head of his cock pressing deliciously against your clit and a moan fall from your lips as you do so.

His arm hooks tightly around your waist, and he pulls you closer so that he’s able to trail his lips against your throat, “Say you give up, kitten. And I’ll give you exactly what you need.”

Your lips turn down into a small pout.

“We can try this again later,” He promises, very temptingly, “After you’ve had some time to prepare properly.”

You peer at him, and then release a heavy sigh, and reach up to untie his other hand, “This isn’t me giving up.”

“Of course not.” Bacara agrees, suspiciously easily, “But, it is you forfeiting, which means it’s my turn.”

You squeak as he flips you so that you’re under him, smoothly using one hand to pin your hand over your head and tying them together and to the headboard.

Bemused, you tug on the ropes, but there’s no give whatsoever, “How-”

“Practice. I’ll teach you properly for next time.”

“...this game was designed for me to lose from the get go, wasn’t it.”

He grins and leans over you, his lips hovering just over yours, “Good girl, I knew you’d figure it out eventually.”

“You’re a dick.”

“Not gonna deny that.” He replies before he kisses you deeply, but quickly.

And then he’s moving down your body, biting marks into the soft skin of your neck and throat, across your collar, and down your chest. You squirm and writhe under his attention, biting your lower lip to keep yourself quiet.

He takes a quick moment to lavish your nipples with attention, before he’s moving again. At this, you’re unable to keep yourself from gasping out his name, and you feel his lips curl up into a smile against your breast.

Bacara litters your stomach and sides with possessive marks and then he leaves a trail of bite marks from your hip to your thighs. By this point, you’re a moaning mess, you don’t care if this means that he wins, you just don’t want him to stop.

And only then, when he’s sure that you’re covered in his marks, and when you’re whining for him, does he spread your legs to make room for himself between your thighs.

“Look at you,” Bacara praises lightly as he drags a single finger between your folds, a pleased smirk crossing his face as your hips twitch towards him, “You’re already wet. Do you have a biting kink, kitten?”

Your face burns at his words, and you stubbornly press your lips together to not say anything.

Bacara clicks his tongue, and his hand lands, heavily, on your outer thigh. It surprises you more than it hurts you, and you blink at him wide eyed, “I asked you a question.”

You know what he wants to hear. Even though you’re so horny that you almost can’t stand it. Even though his large, calloused finger is circling your clit in a way that is kind of driving you insane. You still know what he wants to hear.

What he’s expecting to hear.

Your tongue darts out to wet your dry lips, and you plaster on your most innocent expression, “Did you?” You ask, slightly breathlessly as you clench around nothing from his teasing, “I wasn’t listening.”

Bacara stops. His fingers stop moving, and his hand, which was caressing your thigh and the red mark blooming there, stops moving as well. He searches your face for something, and then a slow smirk crosses his lips.

“Safe word or color?”

Your heart racing with excitement, you breath out, “Color.”

He hums, “What color are you?”

“Green.” You blurt, “Very green.”

For a moment, there’s a glimmer of something warm and soft on his handsome face, before it’s gone. “So, it sounds like you are able to listen.”

“When I want to.”

“Then it sounds like I just need to teach you that you need to listen to me, doesn’t it?”

You feel a thrill of delight, “If you ever said anything worth listening to-” You words get cut off with a ragged moan as he suddenly thrusts a finger into your pussy and curls it, almost instinctively finding the spot deep inside you that makes you see stars.

“I’m going to tell you how this is going to go,” Bacara says, a hint of promise in his voice, “I’m going to give you as many orgasms as I want, you are only allowed to cum when I allow it.” He eases his finger out of your pussy, and licks it clean with an appreciative hum, “And, if you don’t obey me, I’ll have to punish you.”

“Punish?” You ask.

He just smirks, “Do you understand? Answer verbally.”

“I understand,”

“Good girl,” He gives himself a couple of lazy strokes as he examines your splayed out body appreciatively. “I did say that I was going to bury my face in your pussy, didn’t I.” He muses, loud enough that you’re able to hear him, “But I don’t think you’ve earned that.”

That pulls an unhappy noise from your lips, and he chuckles, “Only good girls get to have their pussy eaten, and you haven’t been a good girl.” He releases your legs, letting them fall back to the bed, before he reaches up to check the ropes one more time, and then flips you, making sure that the ropes didn’t twist in such a way to hurt you. “There we go,” Bacara murmurs as he smooths his hand over your ass and then squeezes roughly

You squirm under him, but settle when you feel his hand press against your lower back. He quickly eases a pillow under your hips and adjusts your legs so that you’re spread wide for him.

He doesn’t touch you for a moment, though you can feel his heavy gaze dragging against you body. Just as you start to squirm, a little self conscious about being so exposed, his hands are on you again.

His hands are calloused and heavy on your body, and you’re sure you’re going to have bruises from his hands covering your body, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to care as his hands press into you.

And then you don’t care about anything as the blunt head of his cock presses against you. Slowly he eases inch after inch inside you, and you’re squirming and whining before he’s even halfway sheathed.

The piercing feels amazing inside you, and you find yourself clenching around him.

Bacara groans and bites down on the back of your neck, “No cumming, kitten.” He warns as he slowly pushes the rest of the way in. As soon as he’s bottomed out, he presses a light kiss to the mark on the back of your neck.

He doesn’t move for a moment, and then he slowly eases out, until only the head of his cock is inside you. Bacara waits a beat, until you squirm to try and get him to move again, and then he thrusts in hard and fast.

He keeps the rapid pace, his breath hot against your ear, his hand fisted in your hair to keep your head down.

The sensations of his hand in your hair, and low groans in your ear, adding to the amazing feeling of his piercings dragging against your walls and the delicious stretch of his cock, are too much to handle.

And try as you might, you’re not able to keep yourself from cumming with a cry of his name.

You feel him laugh, “That’s punishment 1, kitten.”

“Not my fault-” You gasp, “Feels too good.”

“Oh? What’s that? Harder you said?” Bacara asks, as he adjusts himself slightly, before he leans in and catches your earlobe between his teeth. Before he does exactly as he warned, thrusting hard enough that you release a noise that is something between a moan and a sob of sheer pleasure.

“Good girl,” Bacara purrs, “You’re taking me so well.” He smooths his hand up your spine, “Such a willing little thing,” He coos in your ear, “I’m going to ruin you, kitten.” He catches your lips in a deep kiss, his tongue sliding against yours.

“Please,” You whisper, “Please ruin me.”

For half a moment, Bacara’s hips stutter, and he releases a deep groan. “Oh, princess. Gladly.” He pulls out completely, pulling a disapproving whine from your lips and then he flips you back onto your back, before he thrusts back into you hard and fast. “I’m going to stuff you full of my cum, princess.” He promises, “Over and over and over, until I’m good and done.”

“Cara-” You whine his name as you arch against him as best as you can.

“So, be my good girl and take all of me,” He orders as he leans in and catches your lips in a passionate kiss, “Be my good girl, and I’ll ruin you.” He promises, his gaze dark.

And, really, how can you do anything other than obey him after that promise.

[itsguysnightitsironic]

Some human skin and bone

The yassification button glitched, so sorry for your loss.

Did this take years of my life? Yes.

Did it take making at less three before realising I used their identifying colours to render them? Also yes.

Drawings without the dramatic light under the cut with some very long ramblings.

(I'm pretty sleep-deprived right now, excuse my weird grammar and ramblings.)

They are in order of making.

HOOTSIE

-She was the first I drew of the bunch, and I based her mostly on a baby I saw in a hair salon. She had these big un-blink-able eyes and these adorable chubby cheeks that just made sense that Hootsie had.

-To try to union the owl and bear parts of an owlbear, I gave her this very puffy ENORMOUS fur coat with a feather jacket under it. To define where in her original design the fur and feather separate.

-Also the claws, since Hootsie has claws, it's your decision to decide if they are REAL or if Gricko made them for her in wood.

-Her makeup it's designed to scream "OWL" and her original markings, from the big eyes, and eyebrows as owls horns, to the line to symbolise her beak.

She was very fun to draw, brain empty, just owlbear.

GIDEON

-You know the whole "re-inventing the wheel"? Well, this was a "drawing Mace by accident over and over again"

-Credits to Beth Mello for inspiration for the splash blood makeup, which it's just so pretty

-I don't know where the metallic horns came from, I know it's inspired by something but it is so locked in my mind and I can't pull the strings to know where it comes from.

I showed this one to one of my old art teachers and he said "It looks like me when I was younger" and now I can't unsee it.

Your genishi is my retired art teacher now, so sorry for your loss.

GRICKO

-Did I ask my father to pose to draw his old hands? Yes. Yes, I did. And I had to make them more rough and hairy because he has "selling wristwatches on tv" hands? Absolutely.

-I based his hair on a member of Metalica, Kirk Hammett. Now that he's older, he has this very pretty long curly greyish hair that just felt very Gricko.

-I cut his fingers. Well, only the right hand, he has the other one but it didn't grow correctly so it's more like little little finger without nail. So he has four fingers, in his original goblin design he has four fingers and so does the human version now, we don't know what happened, Gricko probably doesn't know either.

-The makeup had to have the most eccentric in-your-face eyeliner ever. With some green highlighter to remain of goblin skin, blue and white dots for his magic and to link him with Hootsie's little blue gems, and body paint inspired by Britons war paint. (Which are drawn after two of his totems.)

Lighting for this one was weirdly easy... The ocarina wasn't.

FROST

-As someone who is pretty young and it's starting to grow white hair already, I can say, that whatever it's happening to him it's more from stress than genes. What ghost scared you, sir?

-I fought with his face so much, I had his body ready for days but not the face. I wanted to keep the expression that Frost has in the original, mostly the smug smile he has.

-Credits to Freja Bermann for inspiration for his makeup which it's inspired by multiple of her looks inspired by the solar system.

-I just realised that by giving him "horns" and two dots to symbolize his tiger ears it looks like the froggy chair of Animal Crossing.

I'm not changing it. This is our little secret.

KREMY

-How do you draw an alligator as a human? How??? DRAW??

-You know what, drawing hands it's only fun if it's old people's hands. They have more texture and can be a bit rougher. They can define a character's life so well... For example, here Kremy has four fingers, you can decide if he got it cut off by fucking around, bitten off, or if he gifted it as a sign of faith to his patron, you decide.

-You hear about "Give Gideon a cowboy hat" get ready for "Give Kremy opera binoculars"

-His makeup was inspired by cabaret, just dramatic eyeshadow and eyeliner. There are markings as gator skin around his eyes and nose. And a fake beauty mark because why not?

Drawing Kremy it's always fun, even if I get tortured first by trying to structure his face.

I can't bring myself to do Torbek, Twig and Petunia, sorry, I'm very tired.

AHHHHHHHHHH.... Have a cupcake 🧁.

[xxbun-artxx]

My fellow dareth enjoyers dareth won the water elemental master poll for my metal nya au. Now unlike my other post I don't have a set in stone lore or lore ideas, doesn't help I got sick woohoo. So I'll talk about the design.

Fun fact I originally started sketching this in brown so this gi started as a brown one, it looked neat so I saved it in case I wanted to make an actual brown ninja dareth in the future (if you would like to see that lmk). While designing this I decided to use the same gi design principle of nya and metal nya's gi-s but I changed the black parts to brown to make it feel more dareth-y, yes this does kinda make him the oddball but that kinda also intentional.

I gave dareth's gi pants that cowboy thing that dareth has in his og design.

I gave him this style of glove which I normally wouldn't do because they're the mark of....a special person (wink) for now for lore reasons dareth is allowed to have them by me.

I chose this blue because its the complamtary color of his brown, but also because its not close to my nya or jay design. I gave him heels because he ~💅, I put the pattern all over his gi unlike nya's.

I feel like dareth is alright with using his power but absolutely exhales when put in a stressful situation or when definding someone  (which is cannon), he dumb, he will jump to action without thinking. I like to think his room is so aesthetic with a cowboy hat as a decoration. No reason. Just cowboy.

Interested in the drawings/designs mentioned or the metal nya au? <<Click here>> for my pined post about my aus and other

My two # for this au #ninjago metal nya #ninjago water dareth

For my other aus in the work #ninjago bun au

If you have any suggestions/questions/ request, my asks are open

Rember, you're a rockstar

Bun, out

[howdy-cowpoke]

TIMING: Mid-July LOCATION: The Bizarre PARTIES: Monty (@howdy-cowpoke) & Inge (@nightmaretist) SUMMARY: Monty & Inge meet each other at the Bizarre, finding kinship in their struggles with hunters and bonding over a little murder. CONTENT WARNINGS: Zombie-flavor gore lol

—

There were probably much safer places to do this, but there was nowhere more convenient. Anyway, it wasn’t like he’d come alone — he had Daisy, Dallas, and Denver with him, there more or less as support in case the harvesters on the other side of the market decided to cause trouble. Again, possibly. Monty still wasn’t sure if they’d been the ones to send the strangers that had slaughtered a portion of his livestock, but he might as well assume they had and prepare for the worst. 

The reason for their visit to the market was business: they needed to hire more hands to help protect the farm, as Emilio had suggested. For all his shitty opinions, that hadn’t been one of them. They needed more people, and more that knew how to handle themselves in a scrape. So the four set up a temporary booth in the market after finding out where the new entrance was, plopping their folding card table and chairs in a vacant spot. There was nothing flashy about the production, mostly just a “Help Wanted” sign and Daisy working her charm on passersby. Monty sat at the table to speak with the ones she was able to draw in, and Dallas and Denver stood behind him, arms folded across their broad chests, looking every bit the bodyguards they were meant to be. 

One such interested party, stopped by Daisy for looking like a capable young man who was down on his luck, was corralled toward the table with promises of a place to sleep and free, ethical meals. There was more vetting to be done, of course, and Monty couldn’t afford to let his desire to help anyone that needed it get in the way of his goal. It was clear to him that there was a lack of community between different supernatural species, seeing as how shifters and fae had helped attack the farm. At least of the ones they had killed. So it would continue to be an undead-only venture, and while zombies were preferred, Monty wouldn’t turn away an undead that felt kinship to them. There would be follow-up training sessions that would weed out the liars, of course. This had never been their way before, but someone had made such caution necessary. 

Smiling up at the young man as he walked with Daisy up to the table, Monty held out a hand to him. The palm that slid into his was warm, too warm for an undead, and his grip tightened as he regarded the young man carefully. 

“You are not dead,” the cowboy stated bluntly. The man looked around at them anxiously, his gaze lingering on the brothers that stood like pillars behind Monty. 

“What… what d’you mean?” He laughed nervously. Monty sighed, lacking his usual patience. 

“You are not dead,” he repeated. “We are only hiring undead, I’m afraid. I wish you luck.” The smile on the stranger’s face fell slowly into a frown, and he shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“Fine, whatever, man,” he huffed before stalking away. Daisy gave Monty a shrug, who lifted his hat to run a hand through his hair.

“I would suggest trying to touch them before you decide to bring them over,” he offered curtly, which earned him a hard stare from the woman. He quickly relented, dipping his head. “Sorry, Dais. I am just…” 

“I know, sugar,” she said softly, giving him a sad smile. “It’s alright.” 

Monty felt a hand on his shoulder, much heavier than Daisy’s own, and glanced back to see Dallas reaching out to him. He laughed gently, patting the man’s hand before adjusting himself in his seat, then giving up and getting to his feet. “Take my spot, eh, Denver? I need to… stretch my legs.” The other man nodded, sitting down in the chair that was too small for him, expression stony. Monty couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen him or his brother smile. Times were… hard. Dallas followed Monty away from the stall after a quick exchange with Daisy, refusing to let him wander around by himself even when the older zombie insisted. So the pair began their walk, Monty making sure they stayed well away from the meat market section of the bazaar. 

—

If a place could be a muse (in the artist sense, not the fae one — Inge didn’t know very much about those types), then Wicked’s Rest was one that could never be depleted. It showed her time and time again that there was still room within her to feel horror. And it was through that horror that her art improved, that her nightmares were more vivid and rewarding than they had been in a while, that she felt like the muse – again, not the fae kind – was blossoming.

But it was a double edged sword. For all the inspiration she gained, she also gained paranoia. Suffering made great art, she knew that. She knew that for all the stress she experienced she’d come out an even more accomplished artist, that soon she’d have a breakthrough again and create something that would be a culmination of the past three years in this town. One day she’d look back on her time in this town and stroke the scar on her stomach and not think of factories, classrooms or bunker basements, but in stead of the sculpture or installation she’d made.

So she had to keep at it. Despite the paranoia. Despite Cortez’ promise to chop her up. Despite Dīs being gone. And so that was why she was here, at the supernatural night market. She wanted something to protect her home, the apartment she’d grown so fond of over the past three years. A corner of Wicked’s Rest she wanted to feel as safe in as she did in the astral. Coincidentally, she knew of the place because of the astral — one of the mares she’d encountered over the years was employed there. Inge found it preposterous, using ones astral hopping skills for employment. Still, it was nice to have a connection to the Bizarre. 

She was interested in getting some kind of artifact that could safeguard her home, but it was slim pickings. She knew something like it had to exist – she’d heard of it before, had encountered something of the sort at another similar market (but she’d been too cocky to get it, then) – and yet. Nothing. No slayer repellent. 

Besides, it was hard to not get distracted by all the things on offer. She’d always had a materialistic streak, even if she also tended to be a little stingy. Her eyes were glued on a strange looking medallion she was resisting to ask about when she crashed into a pair of other patrons. It was an act of clumsiness she didn’t think befit her, but her shame would never reach her cheeks as the blood in her veins was stagnant. “Oh,” she said, “Sorry.” Her gaze traveled to the necklace for another second and something within her yearned, but she looked back to the people she’d crashed into. The man hadn’t given off any bodily heat. “What’s up ahead that way?”

—

Monty was taking this time to admire the Bizarre for what it was: a helpful resource, one he'd not fully appreciated the last time he'd been here, distracted and afraid as he'd felt then. There was no fear now, just anger. Indignant and burning, righteous in morality but what should have felt repugnant in how it made him crave revenge. It didn't, though. The desire to crack open the skull of that stupid man that owned the organ stall, to curl his fingers around that brain and rip it free from its stem felt good, and that on its own was alarming. Monty had not felt such things in many, many decades, and he dared not speak them aloud. He wondered if any of his friends could tell… if the reason Dallas had accompanied him was not to protect him from harm, but to stop him from dishing it out. 

It wasn't impossible, he supposed. Even Daisy had been extra gentle with him, quickly forgiving his harsher words that he truly didn't mean to let slip. She seemed worried. They all did, but he had of course assumed it was about the attack, not about him. 

But the way Dallas was looking at him now, distracted enough to barrel right into a woman admiring a pendant, Monty couldn't help but wonder. Dallas barely reacted to the collision, only stepping back to give the woman space and raising a hand in silent apology. Monty quickly stepped in, concern lacing his soft features as a hand found a brief but telling home on her arm. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder as he considered her question. He… hadn't been paying attention for a few hundred yards, lost in his thoughts as he'd dissected the nature of Dallas’ gaze as it kept stealing glances his way. “Ah! I am… not sure, besides our own booth. We were busy… talking.” They hadn't spoken a word. He removed his hand politely, giving her a smile. “What's that?” he asked, eyeing the same pendant she'd been mesmerized by. 

—

How ironic, to be using such polite words in a place like this. A sorry, an are you okay — as if they weren’t scurrying around in a bazaar that moved from place to place via the astral. A bazaar that was filled to the brim with unethically sourced goods and magic goods Inge didn’t even fully comprehend. It amused her, the way he was so gallant, almost. Maybe it had something to do with his age — considering his body temperature, there was a chance he was older than he looked.

“Oh – yes,” she said, waving away his concern. Any question of whether she was okay or not had been met with that same answer for decades, and this time it wasn’t a lie. Maybe a few months ago it would have made pain echo through her body, but she was walking with more ease now. “I can handle a little bump.” 

She raised a brow at the revelation that the other had his own booth. “Hm, what is it you have on offer?,” she asked, letting her gaze flick from the talkative stranger to the silent one. Inge might have prodded and poked the quieter person if she’d been in one of her more upbeat moods, but she had come here with a mission. “And I understand — talking does tend to take away quite a bit of my attention on good days.” 

She moved a little closer to the pendant now, lifting a shoulder, “I’m not entirely sure. It looks beautiful, though … not very subtle, but sometimes an outfit needs a statement piece.” Knowing her luck, it was probably cursed. Inge resisted the urge to reach for it — she could step by and barter on another day. “Not sure if it is what I’m looking for. Do you know anything …” A wave of unease passed through her. To seek for protection was to admit that protection was needed, which was to make others know you thought yourself a target. She didn’t much like it. “Ah, about where to find some form of security?”

—

“Work,” Monty responded simply. She was undead, yes, which (perhaps foolishly) instilled him with more trust, but even so, he did not want to reveal too much. That is, not until her attention turned back to the pendant and she revealed what it was she was looking for, then asked if he had any suggestions. He gave her a sad smile, feeling an immediate kinship as a fellow undead looking to protect themself from those that wished them harm. 

“I am sorry you feel the need for it,” he started. “And I am looking for the same thing, actually, though… not in the form of trinkets.” His gaze fell on the pendant again and he shook his head. “This is the work I am hiring undead for. I have a farm, and we were recently attacked.” Beside him, Dallas seemed to bristle angrily at the memory. Monty put a hand on his arm, taking a beat to allow the feeling to pass before continuing. “It was because of our nature that this happened. We are, all of us, undead. The farm is a way for us to have access to food that helps keep us sustained without threatening the safety of innocent people. Someone here,” he gestured vaguely at the entirety of the Bizarre, though his gaze settled in the direction he knew the organ harvesters to be, “does not like that. They want us to be put out of business. They killed a great deal of our livestock. So I am hiring again, to better protect us and our animals.” 

Perhaps he was being too honest. Perhaps he should have said less, but… something about the woman made him want to trust her. Anyway, he had to be honest with the people he vetted for hire, so what was the difference? It did not matter if she could not or would not work at the farm (she did not seem the type, anyway… nor did she seem desperate for a job), because she was undead and she too was seeking safety. “So unfortunately, no, I am afraid I do not have any helpful advice for you, in the matters of protection.” Holding out a hand for an official introduction, he tried to put on a warmer smile. “My name is Monty. This is Dallas. It’s nice to meet you…?”

—

The zombie prattled on, revealing that he was a farmer (this much Inge could have guessed from his appearance, looking back on it) and that he farmed … well, whatever it was he and his kin needed. So zombies or vampires, then. She found the entire concept somewhat endearing, even if she had long ago moved away from the world of farms.

“Hm,” she said, “I am sorry, too. In your case as well. It’s good, though, I always find — to meet more of our kind. For a bit of solidarity, no?” Exchanging hunter’s names and faces, or having a place to turn to when she was ran through with a sword. It wasn’t a luxury to have a network of undead: it was a need. “I would like it very much if a trinket was enough to protect me, but I think that’s just wishful thinking.” Maybe there were spells or charms that could keep a slayer from detecting her — but that was no longer the issue. Slayers had detected her. A fucking necromancer too, on top of it. “It sounds nice, though. Your farm. I’m not much of a muscle for hire, though, and animals dislike me, but maybe if you stumble upon something useful you can let me know? And vice versa?” Her nose crinkled. “Sorry people are giving you trouble for being self sustaining.”

She took his hand without hesitation, glad to hold a hand that was similar in temperature to her own. This place brought risks, after all, so it was nice to be around someone she didn’t have to suspect too much. “I’m Inge. It’s nice to meet you too.” 

—

“Sí, solidarity is a good thing to be having,” Monty agreed. The reveal that animals were not fond of her immediately drew his mind to Ariadne, and he smiled fondly. “Of course I can do this.” They shook hands, and he decided to just ask. “Are you a mare, Inge? What you said about animals… I know a girl with a similar ‘problem’, as she would put it. I do not know much of the details of her kind, but I cannot say that there is not a part of me that envies the less, ah… deadly form of feeding.” 

Dallas shifted his weight awkwardly from foot to foot, prompting Monty to give him a soft, understanding smile. The two exchanged a wordless glance, Monty nodded in the direction of the way they’d come, and Dallas seemed to relax slightly. “Ma’am,” he grunted abruptly before turning and heading back to the stall. Monty watched him go for a moment before turning back to Inge. 

“He is… wary of strangers. I think we all are right now, but the twins are especially, ah, uncomfortable.” His gaze slid back over to the pendant Inge had been looking at, and his brow furrowed. “... can I ask what it is you are looking for protection from?” A knowing look came over him then. “Or is it as simple as I think it might be…” Meaning slayers, of course. What else?

—

“It very much is,” she said, nodding. It was why she continued to gravitate towards the more undead places in town, where she felt at her safest. Inge considered Monty for a moment, before nodded. “Yes, a mare.” She wondered if she knew this girl — there weren’t as many mares around as there were vampires and zombies, and even less that would qualify that description. “It is a bit of a nuisance, but I wouldn’t call it a problem.” She smiled a little, swallowing a comment that she did think her kind had the most refined and interesting diet. “Well, I envy your ability to heal up quick. I guess the grass is always greener on the other side one way or another, hm?”

She gave the gruff cowboy a nod as he departed, amused by the way he carried himself. Though Inge tried to surround herself with fellow undead and long-lived people, it was never the way this seemed to be. A community, living together and sharing their diet. It really did seem nice. It reminded her a bit of the places in New York she’d visit, though those had been more hedonistic than … agrarian.

“I get it,” she said, though she wasn’t that wary of Monty at present. She gave fellow undead the benefit of the doubt. She started to walk, moving away from the pendant and keeping her gaze focused on all else. Inge nodded with a noise of amusement, “Sadly, it is just that simple. Some slayers know my face and name. It’s unfortunate.” Well, that and whatever other enemies she was making. The necromancer, the lamia … probably one of her colleagues, though she doubted they’d wield any weapons besides sharp words. “But it feels … I don’t know, like a trap to admit I need something like a penchant or a spell to feel safe. Maybe I’m careful around strangers too, now.”

—

“Ah… I am sorry to hear that.” Genuine concern laced Monty’s voice as they walked. “... I know how you feel, though. I think, anyway. Like you should not need the extra help, but you find yourself… frightened without it. Worried, at the very least.” He didn’t want to put any words into her mouth, but figured it was probably clear that he was mostly talking about himself at that point. He could pretend that he was missing out on a carefree life he’d once had, but that had never been the case, had it? As a child, he was wary of his brothers. As a teenager, he was wary of the strangers that offered him odd jobs for terrible pay. As a young adult, he was wary of his fellow ranch hands, and then of the people that kidnapped him and folded them into their band of killers and thieves. Even around them, though it was arguably the better half of his life, he sometimes felt wary. There were things about him that they did not know, that they could not know—not least of all because Monty had not understood them himself. He was still something of an outsider with that gang, only ever feeling truly at ease when he was around Hector. He knew his mentor would always look out for him, always protect him. Until he hadn’t, anyway. 

So there was no life that Monty was longing for, not really. He’d always been afraid, even when he seemed angry or brave. And at the farm, he’d still been wary. Not of the new family he had found, but of those that would threaten them. Men and women like Emilio and Jade, people like the ones that had killed their animals. He could not escape the fear, and he could not escape the feeling of entrapment.

So yes, he understood her quite well.

They continued to chat and walk, Monty finding comfort in the woman’s presence, in the way she carried herself so surely. But from the shadows, someone else was watching. Someone who could sense them both, and didn’t much like their continued existence. This stranger tailed them at a significant distance, keeping busy as they talked and eventually stopped by the booth the zombies had come here to run, before Monty became distracted. Daisy was fine with it, though, agreeing that he needed the distractions. She introduced herself and Denver to Inge before informing Monty that they’d managed to pick out four or five new hands, and would be conducting second interviews on the farm the following day. For now, it was time for them to head home. 

Monty looked to Inge, giving a gentle shrug. “Ah, well. I am sorry we did not find what you were looking for, Inge. But, if your night remains free… would you care to get a drink somewhere back in town?” He was just enjoying their conversation, really, and hoped that she felt the same. 

The figure in the shadows prepared to follow them.

—

It was easy to forget that while this was a town full of hunters, it was also a town full of undead. There were no population statistics in regards to species, but Inge was suddenly reminded of this fact and her own conviction that the amount of undead surely had to outweigh that of hunters in Wicked’s Rest — what with them being harder to kill. Being around Monty, who had created such a vast and steady network of undead, made her feel a level of not only security but something like hope. And though she would never want to live on a farm-based commune (the smell of manure reminded her too much of her mortal life), she liked the idea of a coven of sorts. Perhaps she should reconnect with some of her fellow artistic undead.

Still, she’d remember Denver and Daisy’s names and faces, made a mental note of the farm’s name and to look it up once she got home. It was good to know what places were safe in town. Or, at least — she hoped the farm would be safe, now that they were gathering more people to help defend it.

Inge waved away Monty’s shrug, “That’s alright, I was not expecting to find a golden solution here anyway,” she said, even if part of her was greatly disappointed. She wanted nothing more than to stumble into the perfect fix to her issues, though the trouble with that was that the common factor in all her issue was, well, her own arrogance and indulgence. She felt no need to fix those things, though. “But yes, I’d very much like that — it’s been sweet getting to know you.” 

It was good then, that the Bizarre was located near downtown this night. As they stepped into the dark of the regular world, Inge’s eyes gained their red hue. “What bar do you like? I’m personally fond of Dance Macabre, have you been?” Maybe Monty did like eating fingers, unlike the other zombie she’d met there. “Though I didn’t drive, and I suppose it’s quite a walk …” Too bad zombies couldn’t astral project like her. They really did fall short in that regard.

She stopped to consider her surroundings, head turning to see a shape inching closer to them. At least they both fell short in this regard — neither zombies nor mares had excellent hearing. Inge took a step back, pulling Monty along with her as she stared at the stranger and the axe in his hand. For a moment the air seemed to stand still, the world frozen in time before the axe was swung back and the stranger was rushing over, seeming to jump into action rather than discussion, wasting no words — just swinging that fucking axe at the two of them without thought. Inge yelped and ducked, cursing the world and all its inhabitants as she did.

—

“Ah, I do not think I’ve ever been!” Of course he hadn’t. Monty didn’t make a habit of frequenting bars in town, much less ones that were anything other than dark and quiet. And one with ‘dance’ in the name sounded anything but. He was considering the walk, about to suggest they call a cab, when Inge was reacting suddenly to something he couldn’t see behind him. She pulled him away from it, a look of fear flashing in her eyes. Confused, Monty turned to see a stranger rushing at them with an axe held high. Seriously? 

The zombie heard Inge exclaim behind him and heard the scrape of her shoes on the pavement indicating that she’d made some move to get away—good. He stood firm, sizing up their opponent and choosing to believe that they could not remove his head with a single swing. Especially not from the angle they were coming in at—the axe collided with Monty’s chest, skimming over the dense material of his work jacket before finding the more pliable fabric of his t-shirt and burying itself at an awkward angle in his sternum. The sound he made was not one of pain, but one of anger. He did not like dealing with hunters, not least of all because of the guilt that was now associated with it, given Kaden. 

Before Jade, he might have tried to run. He might have stooped down to pull Inge to her feet and dragged her to safety, leaving the hunter to chase them until he grew tired or no longer felt safe murdering someone in public. But this was post-Jade. Something in him had shifted, and his gentler tendencies were falling to the wayside, piece by piece. “Try again,” he hissed, a ringing starting up in his ears. An imagined one, probably—the same he’d always heard over the din of blood rushing past them when he’d been alive, when the adrenaline kicked in and he had to kill whoever was on the other end of his knife or six-shooter. Kill or be killed, that’s what this was. He couldn’t leave room for guilt. Kaden wouldn’t blame him. 

He didn’t carry weapons with him off of the farm, so his hands quickly found the axe’s handle and the wrist of the hunter. “You should leave,” he warned Inge with a glance over his shoulder, not wanting her to get more caught up than she already was in this—if one piece of him still remained, it was his determination to protect others. “I’ve got—” He was interrupted by a knife to his throat, held by the hunter’s hand he hadn’t managed to snag. The zombie let out a harsh, barking laugh, inwardly horrified at his own reaction. “What are you going to do, pendejo? Saw off my head with that?”

—

The scene unfolded quickly and Inge was glad to have ducked and moved away from the axe’s glinting head. Though the slayer didn’t know it, it really was better for it to find Monty’s body than her own — as he would be able to recover easily, whereas an axe to her chest would surely incapacitate her worse and longer. If anyone was going to catch the blows, let it be the one with regenerative and fast healing. Not her. It was a survivalist way of thinking, a selfish one: but she hardly knew the zombie anyway, and he was giving her an out on top of it. 

Inge considered taking it with both hands, fleeing into the astral and not looking back. It would be simple. It wouldn’t be unprecedented. Her mind flashed to Sanne’s head toppling off her neck for a moment before she burst into dust. If she had ran then, why not now? Monty sounded so very sure of his declaration, too, and Inge was already in the astral, looking down. For a moment she was taken with the selflessness of the zombie, if not confused by it.

The knife cut off his words, though, and while Monty seemed confident enough, she knew all about bravado. There was one more moment of hesitation, her escape route waiting for her but in the end, Inge decided to go for a quick dive. Reappearing on the earthly plane a few inches above their assailant, she jerked at the wrist holding a knife, pulling it back hard as she fell onto the ground. It was the element of surprise and probably not her technique that made the slayer drop the knife. “Fuck you.”

She skittered back just like the weapon, crouched and almost animalistic as her eyes found Monty’s, wondering what he’d want to do next. Her track record for killing hunters had recently taken a dive and had never been very impressive. 

—

She was gone, or at least deathly silent behind him. He hoped she was gone, hoped she was safe. Even as he stared down this hunter, knife to his throat and blade buried in his chest, he was glad. It wouldn’t be long before he’d lose himself, not at the rate this slayer was going. Once he got the ax out, his eyes would start to glaze over. Once the slices to Monty’s neck the hunter was able to get in started to heal faster than he could make them, the zombie would start to forget. He knew this, the slayer knew this, and yet he persisted. Maybe he had hope that he could cut faster than Monty could heal. It was a stupid hope. One that would cost him his life. 

There was a sudden commotion, and Monty was shocked to see Inge reappear and wrench the knife away from his throat. The slayer stumbled back, startled, looking between the two of them. Monty’s gaze met Inge’s and he gave her a grave nod, acknowledging that she’d just spared him a lot of unpleasant mangling, and more importantly, he might be able to maintain his faculties now. He gripped the handle of the ax with both hands and ripped it free, stifling the shout that wanted to press past his clenched teeth. This needed to be quiet. They’d made too much noise already. If he was going to take care of this threat and then the following problem that would come from the gaping wound in his chest, he needed time. Silence would afford them more. 

So he only grimaced, spinning the weapon in his hands and aiming the sharpened blade in the hunter’s direction. The man’s eyes grew wide, and he dove for the knife he’d dropped. 

Only two weapons? Even Emilio would be disappointed by this lack of preparation.

Monty quickly followed, raising the ax over his head as the slayer snatched up the knife and spun around. He didn’t have time to react; no time to duck out of the way or deflect with an arm, and the ax buried itself deep into the base of the man’s throat, where it met his shoulder. The blood poured from the grievous wound like a brilliant waterfall, but Monty’s focus was elsewhere. He clamped a hand over the slayer’s mouth to muffle his cries and shoved him back into the alleyway to their left. The other hand grabbed a fistful of the human’s hair, using that as leverage to bash his head against the brick wall the moment it was within range. 

The man stilled in his grip, but still Monty thwacked his skull against stone, grunting from the effort but otherwise keeping himself perfectly calm and composed. Quite a feat with the way his hunger was escalating, but there was determination in his dark gaze. Bone crunched beneath his hands, red soaked his hands and sleeves and front, and finally, his prize was revealed. The zombie let the body slump to the ground, knelt down beside it, and dug out what he coveted most. It came free in pieces, the smaller of which were immediately lifted to ravenous, gnashing teeth, and the storm inside of him slowly started to calm. 

He removed his jacket, set the rest of the brain matter inside of it, and rolled it up before tucking it beneath his arm. His attention finally fell back onto Inge, who he was surprised to see still there, still watching. He appreciated her for at least acting as a lookout, even if that hadn’t been her intention. 

In a voice that was not fully his own, coming in at a lower, harsher register than normal, Monty spoke. “Maybe we should save the bar for another time.”

—

There was no saying why the slayer had sought them out, but paranoia told Inge it was because of her. She’d been making a mess in town, feeding left and right, repeatedly on the same people. She also wasn’t just a reclusive artist, but a professor at an Maybe it was just a coincidence, the risk that came with venturing into a place like the Bizarre and leaving with another undead — but that didn’t make it any less discomforting. There being various ways for a hunter to have gotten on their trail was more worrying, actually.

She watched with a look of distress how Monty wielded his zombie ferality against the slayer, blood spraying around them like colorful fountains. Her distress was not with the violence, though that certainly did stir something within her — but with the ease the slayer had found the both. 

It was righteous that Monty cracked its skull and picked bits of brainy gore from the corpse. It was just. Inge watched still, though her distress was ebbing and being replaced by something more dull. Defeat, maybe. Though she admired the other’s ruthlessness and determination to pry the brain from its former container, to benefit from this failed attack — she knew she was not capable of such a feat. Superhuman strength was a gift passed over mares. 

All there was, was fleeing and hiding. Sometimes, there was surprising, like there had been today, but even then it was the zombie who had delivered the fatal blow. Inge felt a fondness for the other, even when stained with brain matter. “Hm?” She looked at him funnily, as if she didn’t understand why they couldn’t go to a bar now. “Maybe so, yes. Though … that was a nice display of strength.” Inge kicked the brainless body. “Good riddance.” She said it with pure conviction. If slayers wanted to indiscriminately kill her and her kind, she wouldn’t shed any feelings of guilt about their own early deaths.

“Rain check, then. I’ll need to buy you a drink sometime soon.” As a thank-you, but also as an introduction into an allyship, if not friendship. She looked the other over, gave a nod. “I’ll reach out. Get home safe, now.” And with that, Inge ventured into the astral, giving into that ever-present instinct to flee.

[celestelunisea16]

Aha, guess who finally decided to post their Undertale Yellow Oc on here-

I diidddddd!!!! QuQ

Meet Tarabi Carmet, a monster with an unknown past, as she forgot her memories. She searches to find out her past, but she has to find out... She wears a hood in cold places/climates like Snowdin, but in the Dunes, she wears a Cowboy getup like the one you see in the image above. She also has a Cowboy Hat too, but I was kinda being a bit lazy to draw that at the moment. She fights by her claws, dancing, and music, as before she had lost her memories, she had always loved to dance.

I'm working on some of her backstory, but I will say she has amnesia, lived in the Dunes as a child helping her father be a carrot farmer, moved to Snowdin around 16-17 after her father passed, and basically ends up trying to help Clover get through the Underground, no matter what Route they take. I do have other thoughts in mind for her, but I'm probably going to have to get a second opinion on her. She's around the age range as Ceroba and Starlo. She was friends with them, but when she moved to Snowdin, she had no way to keep in contact as her mother (Secretly, a very wanted criminal in the underground) refused to let her send or receive letters, so they, overtime, just assumed she didn't want to be in contact with them until the day she came back with Clover and Martlet, but she didn't remember them at all, so they assume they just mistook her for someone else. (Later on, they realize that they indeed, didn't mistake her and that she is Tarabi from back then when they were kids.) She also has nightmares a lot, mostly of past routes, because despite her amnesia, the deaths of the past stick with her, even if the monster that was seen in the nightmare is alive in the current route they are in.

She has a Genocide look and a Pacifist/Neutral look too, but it's mostly just hair and tail change.

Her Species is a Rabbit/Fox hybrid, her rabbit side coming from her father's side, and her fox side coming from her mother's. Her wings came from her father's side of the family.

I made her some speaking sprites too because I had nothing much to do so <u>

[thebluevipersden]

Tales of the Flame and the Rain

Star Wars fanfiction / PART 02 / Words: 5123 // AO3 Pairing: Cad Bane X female OC Tags: Slow Burn, Creatures, Tension, Angst, Thriller(ish), Hurt/Comfort, Blood & Injury, Roughness, Action, Age Difference Summary: Yrsa and her dangerous acklay, Cog live peacefully in their shipwreck home, until a mysterious man in a hat suddenly bursts into their lives. In this episode, the bounty hunter begins to hunt down his prey.

Warning: This part contains some slightly nsfw drawings! Thanks to @deepbluespace4 for the beta reading! 🎵 Music for the vibe (an eclectic journey of melody) 🌧️ Storm ambience for the second half of the story ← Previous episode Next episode →

CHAPTER TWO Deadlock

Yrsa was very tired. It’s been the second day when she could barely get any sleep. This time, because of the proximity of Cog, she managed to fall into a sleeplike state, but that wasn’t relaxing at all. At least her evening was a tiny bit calmer. She wanted a little refreshment at last. Yrsa and Cog headed towards the lake. Cog was an excellent swimmer, because he was partially an amphibian and loved to stay in the water that was his strongest element. The animal gladly lingered underwater even for up to half a day. Yrsa checked the reactions of Cog. The girl trusted the instincts of her beast and he seemed relatively calm, so she thought she could afford a quick bath for herself without worry. With him by her side in the water, she was as safe as possible. Yrsa undressed and walked into the lake.

Yeeesh… Cold, cold, cold, cooold… - She shivered then subdued the feeling. The cool water somewhat enlivened her. Cog enthusiastically rushed forward into the lake. He liked it very much. Then he swam next to Yrsa and watched his master. She looked back to him and swam to his side. The girl gently touched the huge head of the creature and softly leaned her forehead to his. Cog growled slowly.

- Thank you, my friend... What would I do without you?- Said Yrsa to him.

They lingered in the water for a while, then Yrsa swam a little further. She heard Cog splashing then saw him going ashore and lying down there. The animal looked back to Yrsa. The girl continued to swim, then lay on the surface of the water and began to float. It was a nice, comforting feeling. Finally, a little peace. But this calmness lasted no longer than a split second.

She shot a glance at the landscape and suddenly noticed the familiar figure with the cowboy hat on a cliff in front of her. He stood in the backlight of the Sun. The stalker didn't even try to hide, just loitered there and looked down at her. The girl’s feelings were overflowing. She quickly jumped up and shouted to the vexing man:

- Enough of this! If you want something from me, come and tell me right to my face!! - Yrsa was so upset and annoyed. She panted and looked in the direction of the cliff. The mysterious man with the hat tilted his head, stayed there a bit, then disappeared from her sight. Again.

- Hh... Um… - She sighed deeply. Yrsa regretted her former outburst a little bit. The girl submerged into the lake. Only half of her head was visible in the water as she slowly peeked around. At this point, she really didn't know what to expect from this stalker. She didn't understand why he fooled around with her, and... Wait a minute… Where is Cog? He was there by the lake shore. Yrsa lost sight of him. She decided to swim ashore and wrapped the towel that she left there earlier around her naked body. She wanted to find Cog immediately. Then something happened that she didn't expect

She heard footsteps from afar and the rattle of nearby bushes. Someone lurked behind, then sneaked closer to her. She spun around her axis and found herself face to face with her voyeur.

- Well, as ya' requested, youn' lady… - The stranger tipped his hat with delicate movements. 

Actually Yrsa was now seeing his shady figure clearly for the first time. But the feeling of the dark shadow around him was still there. The strange man was tall and cobalt blue skinned. She had never seen an individual of a similar race of his. He was almost like a reptile, walking on two legs and had minacious deep red eyes. He wore a long brown leather coat, a conspicuous wide flanged hat and some kind of breathing device around his neck.

Bane walked with heavy footsteps towards Yrsa. She couldn't observe him better, because he acted faster than light. The hunter jumped in front of the girl and pinned her to a nearby cliff in a split second. Yrsa tried to escape and shout for Cog, but Bane wouldn’t let her scream. For now… He plastered her mouth with his boney fingers. The girl looked at him in surprise mixed with fear. But she didn’t want to give up so easily. She wanted to fight back. Yrsa fiercely bit into the stranger’s hand.

- Ouch! - hissed Bane and narrowed his crimson eyes. - Sssavage lil’ wildlin'… - His lips curled in a chilling sneer.

Then squeezed her to the cliff even harder. Yrsa could barely breathe or move in the grip of this demonic blue man. He leaned closer to her, all the way to her ears and slowly swept the girl's hair away from there with a surprisingly gentle movement. Bane just breathed there for a few moments and remained motionless. Then he started to speak. He had the most grim and deeply vibrating rusty voice she had ever heard. The hunter almost whispered and was so close to her that she felt his cold breath all over her ear. Yrsa closed her eyes. She began to tremble.

- Heeey… Don' play with fire, because one day it’ll burn ya' so badly, lil’ misss…- then he smirked at her. Yrsa couldn’t speak a word. She didn't dare to look at him at all.

- Ooh… What’s it? Did the loth-cat take yer lil’ tongue? - said Bane really cynically and he smirked even wider than before. He flashed his sharp teeth threateningly.

- Hmmrh... If you apologize to me nicely, maybe I'll consider lettin' ya' go …- He said with a grin. The bounty hunter relaxed his grip on her mouth just a tiny bit. 

- Wh... What? - Asked Yrsa. Her startled eyes met his. She didn't believe what he said even for a minute. 

- Come oon... Sssing to me, birdie… - hissed Bane and measured her like a piece of raw meat. 

Yrsa tried to avoid his soul-penetrating gaze and couldn’t say a word. The darkness emanating from him completely settled on her with its whole weight.

- Nh... No… - Said the girl in the quietest possible way.

- Tsk. Say... It.... NOW!! - He thundered.

Yrsa was so confused. A lot of weird feelings stirred in her at once. She felt herself weak and immensely vulnerable. But as soon as her thoughts cleared, she acted quickly. The girl began to say a sentence softly. During this time, Bane scanned her face with his cold gaze. He waited for some kind of reaction.

- ...No ...I ...I …Ngh. CoooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOGGG!! - She screamed her beast’s name as loud as she could.

- HEY!! You... - Bane covered her mouth with his hand as rough as he was capable.

- Sssssh… Sh-sh-ss-ssh… - He silenced her. - This was a rrreally bad idea, lil' lady... 

- Mfh… - Yrsa frowned her eyebrows and looked at him intensely. But this time, she glanced right into his blood red glowing eyes and didn't look away.

Cog wandered around the forest. He felt a burning need to follow the sense of his prey. It was huge. It was enticing. Something lured him into this very area of the forest. Cog curiously stared at a buzzing electrical box and sniffed it. He didn’t recognize what kind of animal it was, but knew there was something important in that thing and he wanted to open it immediately.

- Must... Observe... It... - Thought the creature.

- Where... Is... My prey? Where... Is... It’s meat? - Cog scratched the buzzing box with his claws. He felt the body electricity given off by this strange entity.

- It... Is... An iron animal...? - He lurked around it and poked it a few more times.

- I… Must… Eat it. - He bit into the box. It tasted weird.

- Where… Is… The meat? I... Must... Kill it... - Cog continued to chew on the iron animal.

Suddenly a desperate scream of a girl broke the tranquility of the forest. It was Yrsa and she shouted Cog’s name from somewhere nearby. Cog awoke from his trance-like state. The voice pulled him back into reality.

- The... Girl... The... GIRL... 

- Something... Wrong! 

- Must...

- Protect...

- Her...

Cog screeched into the air and threw away the chewed box. The furious creature started to run fast towards the origin of the girl’s voice.

The bounty hunter was still pinning Yrsa tightly to the cliff. 

- Well, let’s go then, lil' wildlin'… Time to go! - Said Bane.

He grabbed the girl and started to drag her with him. Yrsa gasped and tried her best to resist. No matter how she squirmed, she couldn’t get rid of the bounty hunter’s grip. In that very moment Cog jumped out of the bushes, infuriated. The beast stopped when noticed Yrsa and Bane and shot his raging gaze at them. So, that blue shadow  was his enemy…. He fixed all three of his eyes on Bane and screeched loudly towards the duo. Cog wanted to destroy him.

- Oh, is another one joinin' the party? How amusin'… - Said Bane and smirked towards the enraged creature. Then with a firm and harsh motion he yanked Yrsa in front of him as a shield. Bane pulled the girl close to him and clasped her neck from behind with his arms. He fixed his gaze on the furious animal in front of them. Yrsa  tried to move towards her beast and started to call him:

- Coghh… Ngggh… 

Bane squeezed her body hard and the girl’s voice trailed off.

- No sudden move… - He hissed to her, meanwhile still watched the angry creature and began to back away slowly with the girl. Cog didn’t wait any longer. The animal just wanted to tear his master out of the intruder's arms and began to run towards them with a loud and sharp shriek. Bane was fast too, he picked up Yrsa on his shoulder and they took to the air with Bane’s jetpack on his legs.

- Hah!  So long, creep! - He shouted malevolently and continued to fly in the direction of the steep cliff next to the lake, from where he had previously observed Yrsa and Cog. Yrsa reached her arms towards Cog and watched his receding shape. 

- No... Coog! Cog! 

- You’ll never see him again, lil’ one…- Said the bounty hunter. Meanwhile they reached the cliff and landed on it. Yrsa became angry and worrying at the thought that Bane wants to separate her from Cog. From her only friend. From her only family…. That thought drove her crazy and she tried to break free even harder.  She fidgeted, squirmed, and tried to scratch and bite stubbornly. 

- Sigh… Eaasy nooow... - Said the hunter.

Yrsa tried to bite him again, but Bane was much faster. He catched her chin with the reflexes of a rattlesnake and held her tightly. The bounty hunter looked deep and cold into her eyes. From that the girl froze for a moment.

- Wanna’ get a muzzle, darlin’? - He still held her face.

Yrsa didn't say anything, just growled at him and flashed her teeth. Her eyes were on fire. 

- I won't leave my friend behind... - She said with a slightly weak but angry voice.

- Ha-hahh! I’ll be curious ‘bout that... - Bane wanted to continue what he was about to say, but he couldn’t.

From the edge of the cliff, out of the coverage of the trees, Cog suddenly appeared and rammed swiftly into them with his huge forehead. The creature swept them both. It happened so quickly they didn’t even have time to grab onto something, so Bane and Yrsa fell into the lake from the edge of the cliff. Cog didn’t wait a minute, immediately jumped after them. 

Yrsa was underwater and sinking. She lost her sense of direction. Suddenly she didn't know where was up and down and descended  deeper and deeper towards the bottom of the lake. When she suddenly regained her clarity she saw the two crazy opponents fighting in the water. They spun around each other like the alligators executing their prey. In this case, it wasn't sure at all who was whose prey.  

Yrsa needed air so badly. She floated to the surface of the water and went ashore. She was shocked by the events and anxiously watched the surface of the lake. It had been a while, but none of them came out of the water. Then bubbles gathered on the surface of the lake and Bane burst out of the waves with his half-working foot jetpack and landed on the waterfront. He suffered some injuries, but stood proud and looked at the water in front of him, pointing his weapon in that direction. 

- Come!! Catch me!! Frrreak!! - He breathed quickly. Bane noticed the girl not far from him on the shore.

- Oh, hello there… - He winked at her. Even in this chaotic situation there was some cheeky playfulness in him. Yrsa just watched what was happening with widened eyes. Cog came out of the water right away and ran at a crazy pace towards the hunter. 

- Now you are at my playgroun' !! -  Bane hissed at Cog and shot him continuously with his two blasters, but the creature had a hard shell on its back and the bullets bounced off it. Cog on the other hand tried to catch him, but the hunter was always faster, even with his injuries. It was a tough fight, like an endless dance between two brutally fast and skillful opponents. The rumbling water finally met with the burning fire. Yrsa couldn’t even intervene. It was pure madness. 

- How disappointin', I thought an acklay is faster than this... - Bane constantly taunted his opponent. In response the teeth of the creature snapped at him repeatedly, but they never hit him. - Hold on, Cog! Hold on buddy! - Shouted Yrsa exalted to Cog. Bane shot a quick look at her and grunted bitterly.

- Rrgh… Playtime is over.… - Grumbled the hunter. He knew the animal’s belly was more vulnerable than the other parts of its body, as the flesh covering it wasn’t as tough as it was elsewhere. Bane knew he could shoot there and finally kill the beast.

He quickly slipped under the animal and pointed his weapons at the belly of the creature. He fired a few times, but then he suddenly got unpleasantly surprised. Barely visible, it looked exactly like the animal's own skin - A thin plate of armor protected Cog’s vulnerable parts. It was made by Yrsa. 

- What the hell... - Said Bane in surprise. He didn’t expect that at all. The shield seemed as if it was an integral part of the creature. Cog didn't hesitate, taking advantage of his momentary dominance, struck down ruthlessly to the bounty hunter. He started to maul him.

Yrsa shuddered in horror. She was glad the beast was protecting her, but she didn't want to kill his opponent. 

- Cog!!! STOP IT!! 

Cog continued to chew on him, but for a fragment of a moment stopped and looked at Yrsa. The badly wounded Bane, in that stolen split second, lifted his arms and fired from his flame thrower attached to his arms. Cog backed away and screeched. 

Bane quickly looked around and assessed his situation. Due to his injuries and damaged equipment he couldn’t get too far and he was out in the clearing by the lake. There were no tall trees within a close distance. Then the bounty hunter catched sight of something nearby and didn't hesitate any longer.  

- The… Shipwreck… - Thought Bane. - The only logical step left was to hide there.

Gathering all his strength, he began to rush towards the Shiphome. He was almost there when he heard  the clacks of Cog's claws behind him. The animal almost breathed into the nape of his neck. Bane turned back quickly and shot the creature in the eye with a well-aimed shot. 

- Eat THIS!! 

Cog recoiled and screamed in pain, followed by the cries of Yrsa. Meanwhile, the hunter quickly kicked in the spaceship door and slammed it behind him tightly. Well, this was a complete disaster for all of them. 

The blue fire tornado struck again and left destruction after him.

Cog was insanely angry. He screamed in fury and flashed his sharp teeth. It was awful to watch as the animal raged. Yrsa rushed to him without a question and with fast movements jumped on Cog’s giant head and clung to it. The girl hugged his head as tightly and steady as she could.

- Sssh… My dear... - Cog was still terribly angry. Suddenly he jumped in the direction of their home with Yrsa on his head. He knew his enemy was there. He smelled that. Yrsa nearly fell off by the animal’s sudden movement. She quickly covered his two intact eyes with her arms. 

- Easy, eeeasy, easy now boy... - Cog growled wrathfully but he started to slow down a bit. The creature tossed the girl on his head up and down with his nervous movements. Yrsa held on and continued to reassure him. She caressed the animal with definite tenderness. After a while Cog moved more and more slowly but he was still very upset. Yrsa smoothed her forehead to the animal's and still kept his two eyes closed with her arms. 

- It’ll be alright… - She said quietly. Her soothing voice had a good effect on the creature. He got gradually calmer by the touch of the girl. Cog stepped forward a few more times without seeing anything and stopped but he was still loudly growling.

- Poor thing, your eye….- Yrsa looked sadly at the gaping hole in place of the animal's third, middle eye and kissed his head softly. The bounty hunter shot out one of Cog’s eyes. He was able to deliver such an accurate shot even in the heat of the fight. 

- Hold on, buddy, I’ll get help! - She carefully climbed off the head of the somewhat calmed but still very upset animal. She wanted to bring bandages and some herbal medicine for Cog but knew that the bounty hunter was inside her home. Yrsa really needed that medicine so she gathered all of her courage and approached her occupied home. 

- Come on, come oooon, comeoncomeon, do it…. For Cog. - Thought the girl. She slowly opened the door and entered it. Darkness hung around the small room.

- Please, don’t shoot! I just want to bring some medicine to my friend!

She received no reply and felt unusually cold air on her skin.

- I’ll come in… - Her words got cut off - Huh? - Yrsa gasped at what she saw.

Bane lay unconscious on the floor in the middle of a large pool of green blood. He was in a very bad shape. Cog almost tore off his left arm and also heavily wounded other parts of his body. Yrsa ran for the medicines, during this time she watched the figure lying on the ground constantly. 

- Oh my… Is… Is he moving at all? - He seemed unnaturally still. Especially after the speed with which he had moved before. The girl didn't see if the wounded bounty hunter was breathing at all. She didn't know what to do, since Cog also needed her help. Yrsa headed to the door to go out to her injured animal but after a few steps she stopped. 

- I can’t… I just can’t… - She sighed and looked back worried to her disarmed stalker.

She ran back to Bane and knelt beside him. Cog wasn't injured fatally after all and by all means, he was though as hell. But if she leaves this man here now, he'll surely bleed to death. Is he still alive at all? Yrsa didn't want anyone to die if she could help them. She couldn’t remain idle. 

- Hold on, Cog! I’ll be there soon! I promise! - Yrsa looked at the injured bounty hunter...

- Please don't make me regret this... - She whispered, then she began to take care of the wounds of Bane. He was barely alive. Yrsa didn't understand why, but deep inside, somehow hoped that he would survive this.

🌧️🌩️🌧️ Storm clouds formed from the gray of the sky. It was beginning to rain. The droplets pattered rhythmically on the firm metallic surface of the shipwreck home. It's been a while since Yrsa helped the bounty hunter. She had a hard time laying him on the bed by the window. He was heavy but with the help of her lifting gadgets she could manage at last. The man was so tall that his lower legs were hanging from her bed. He was still alive, but badly injured. Especially his left arm. Yrsa had only a few herbal medicines at home and the bandages made from the fibers of leaves and other plants found in the forest. She hoped that this  would be enough for saving his life. 

Yrsa had already taken care of Cog, luckily he was only easily injured despite losing one of his eyes. The beast physically seemed to be fine, but he had a newly conceived hate against the intruder. He couldn't forget what Bane did. Cog wanted to tear him apart. The feeling spreaded in him like a deadly virus. He lay outside in the rain in front of their home. He was annoyed but motionless and had been watching the door from outside ever since the incident happened. 

Yrsa was inside, next to the unconscious Bane. She sat pondering with her knees in front of her chest and observed the hunter. She gingerly pulled herself a little bit closer to him and measured Bane with the curiosity of a naturalist.  

- Who are you? - Thought the girl. - What kind of species could he be? Some kind of reptile?

She leaned a little bit closer to his head and touched it very softly. It radiated  cold. 

- Hmh… What an interesting livid blue tone… His skin is at least as cool as Cog's. 

The coldness… Yrsa suddenly remembered what had happened at the lake. She could almost feel the chill of his breath in her ear and started to shiver. To be honest, no one has ever been so close to her before. Yrsa suddenly didn't know how to feel and was embarrassed by it but somewhat she liked this new feeling. Actually she hadn’t met and talked to anyone but Cog since she crashlanded in this very place as a small child. She was completely cut off from everyone. Then he suddenly showed up and burst into their lives, out of the blue. 

- What should I think about him? He hurt Cog and I really hate that fact, but…. 

At that very moment the hunter started to speak on his gravelly voice:

- Are ya' entertained, missy? - Bane didn't even open his eyes.

Yrsa nearly had a heart attack, then skittered back all the way to the wall of the shipwreck behind her. The girl’s back slammed against the metal wall.

- Heh… - he laughed at her with a slight mock in his voice.

Bane sat up a bit on the bed with slow and careful movements. He could barely move from his injuries. They silently stared at each other for a while.

- That little troublemaker… She treated me? Just why? - Thought the hunter and continued to look at her suspiciously. When he collapsed on the floor he thought he would never get up. He wanted to know why she hadn't let him die, but he didn’t ask anything. Bane was just waiting to see what would happen next. But Yrsa didn't move either, just sat there speechlessly and observed him.

The angry growling of Cog broke the silence from outside. The creature felt the presence of his nemesis. Bane grunted and looked sullenly at the direction of the rain soaked creature. Yrsa began to worry so she started to speak:

- He... He is just upset about what happened.

- Upset? Hah! That frantic meatbug of yours almost ripped off my arm…- Grumbled Bane.

- He just tried to defend us and… He is annoyed about his missing eye...

- Oh no! It has two more perfectly good eyes left.  For now... - Bane's sneer gave way to a grin.

Yrsa shot him a savage glance. She started to say something but he interrupted her.

- I would be careful of what I'm goin' to say if I were ya'...

Yrsa took a deep breath and calmed down.

- He is just an animal driven by his instincts. Please, don’t hurt him... 

- Usually I don' bargain with my prey, ya’ know, lil’ miss… -  Bane locked his gaze on the embarrassed Yrsa. - Anyway, without my blasters, I would have a hard time with that kill, rrright? Can I have 'em back? - He asked, but it sounded like a threat.

So he noticed it. Of course he did. The girl hid them well while Bane was unconscious.

- Umm… Over time, maybe… - She replied slightly unsure but perkily.

- Ain’t ya' mischievous? - Bane tried to get up fast to threaten the girl, but his attempt failed. There was a sudden pain in his body and he slumped back on the bed, exhausted.

- Aaarh… - He grunted in pain. The girl was frightened to see this and started towards him.

- Don' move! - He growled at her.

- I… Your wound. - She pointed to Bane’s belly.

He looked down at it. The wound was ruptured and started to bleed. Green spots appeared on the bed. Bane felt very dizzy. The world began to revolve around him but he tried to pretend there was no problem at all. He didn't want to show any sign of weakness. That would be pathetic, he thought.

Despite the threat, the girl moved towards him. Bane didn't take his red eyes off her. 

She warily sat down next to him and tried to touch the belly of the hunter. Bane caught her wrist with an indefinite but quick motion.

- Don’ try… Anythin' silly… Birdie… Ugh…  - He said in a voice struggling with malaise. 

Yrsa didn’t hesitate. She reached for his wound and started to re-bandaging it. The girl didn’t even look up at Bane’s face. She was somewhat embarrassed. Embarrassed? That term wasn't expressive enough. At that moment her face technically radiated more heat than the Sun itself. But she tried to focus on the healing process. 

Bane, on the other hand, was suspicious. Very suspicious. He watched every movement of the girl. But in the end, he let her help him. Actually, the gentle touch of hers wasn’t so bad at all… It wasn't exactly the thing Bane was used to in his dangerously cruel life. He just growled and observed the process  speechlessly. 

Silence settled into the room again. Only the sounds of the strengthening rainfall could be heard. The healing process took a while, then the blue stalker fell asleep from the significant blood loss and exhaustment. Yrsa ruminated about him and the still growling Cog.

I think I’m stuck between two reckless, wild animals…

Bane had a terrible nightmare. 

The whole world was falling apart. Everything blazed around him and was engulfed in devastating fire. The bounty hunter strode on glowing embers and ashes, his feet stirred them. The cinder crackled under his footsteps. 

And he loved it.

- That's it, nnngh... - He closed his eyes and hissed, satisfied - ...More ...Moooore! - He shouted, electrified.

- You're DONE! You'll not run away from me!- He shouted. The flames flared even higher around him,  answering his voice. Bane's blue face was painted slightly purple by the color of the blood-red fire. He grinned and walked out of the billowing black smoke and went after his prey.

- Heeere, kitty, kitty... Where are yaaaa'? - He said  in his raspy, humming voice.

The dark outline of a gigantic creature slowly emerged from the smoke in front of him. Its night black shape was formed by the ashes and was so huge like a leviathan. It glowed subtly from the lava flowing in its body.

- Leave my prey alone! - Bane shouted, then shot at the lava beast with his two blasters. The creature immediately threw itself at him, its shape elongated like a shadow or a long dark wave. It wanted to eat him. Bane easily dodged its jaw a few times.

- Hah! Is dat all ya' know? AMATEUR! - He said smugly.

Then the ground beneath him turned into a huge mouth of the creature and it swallowed him.

Bane was angry. Really angry. And just fell and fell ahead. Suddenly he hit the ground and jumped up. 

- Where are ya'? Coward!! SHOW YOURSELF!! 

Countless arms grabbed him from below. He groaned in surprise. 

- Geeet off! - hissed Bane

- Cooome... Join uuus.... Joiiiin uuuus.... Jooooin… - The owners of the many hands whispered and laughed. They formed a huge mass of various faces and arms and other bodyparts.They roared beneath him like an ocean of blood and pain. Bane tried to get out of their grip, but the more he struggled the deeper he sank. He recognized in them the faces of his former bounties. He tried to shake them off his body and kicked and bit relentlessly wherever he could reach them. He sank further into this abomination, it was like a swamp of horror.

- Cooome, cooooome! Heeeeehhehehe. Joooin us! Jooooin! - They whispered and laughed at him continuously.

- RRrggh… SHUT UP!! -  He shouted, full-throated. Bane felt powerless and that was worse than anything. 

Within a short time, only his left hand remained visible from the mass then it swallowed him completely. He appeared on the other side of the fleshy ocean. There was nothing else than blackness. Full, lightless pitch black. He heard growls and laughter echoing around, but saw nothing of them. He tried to get his gun. But… His left arm was nowhere to be found. He looked at the empty space instead of the limb. 

-....What? - Said Bane quietly, surprised. Then he felt mind shattering pain in the place of the missing body part. 

-Aaaaargg!!

Bane woke up immediately. 

The bounty hunter was slightly shocked and panted heavily. He quickly raised his left hand to see it. It was still there...  

- Huh…  Bane was relieved and sighed really deeply. He buried his forehead into his right hand and slowly calmed himself down with some deep breaths. He was getting used to these dreams. It was a part of his everyday life after all and he learned to repress them within himself. Bane looked at his injured hand:

- I still need ya, ol' frien', heh... - He smiled slightly then hissed in pain. The limb hurt a lot. 

He leaned back on the bed and glanced out the window of the shipwreck. Outside he saw Yrsa with Cog. The girl gently smeared some kind of medicine on the animal's forehead, then stroked it. With those soft and smooth lil’ hands of hers…. Hmmmh… Bane brooded over it a little bit.

Meanwhile, Cog stared at the direction of the window where the hunter lay. Bane flashed his eyes. Their cold gazes locked on each other.

- Yooou… Let’s call it a draw… But ya' better be afraid of the rematch... - Hissed Bane with confidence in his voice. 

There is the water. It can crash you at ease with its harsh weight but  it can also gently caress you with its silky waves.

To be continued... Next episode ➔ ← Previous episode

Footnotes: -Thank you so much for the reading! ♥ - My drawing of the hands was originally made for this story. :) - You can find some awesome divider for your writings here. - Here are some extra pictures, early concept drawings and sketches for this tale:

[petra-creat0r]

Darkner Contest? (kinda?)

YO! Currently writing more chapters of The Puppet and the Real Boy (go read it if you haven't!)! Currently some of the stuff I'm writing requires coming up with some brand new Darkners based on some random stuff left in the attic of Papyrus and Mettaton's house. Half of it's gonna be some random fashion stuff and I have a few ideas, but I want your guy's help too! More under the cut for those interested.

Basically I need suggestions and ideas for what becomes and Darkner and how it becomes one! Some ideas I've already had is some spools of ribbon that become snakes and multiply when cut in half and a feathery boa bird! (I know I coulda done a feather boa boa constrictor, but I don't want too many snakes, maybe it can be a little more like a wyrm ig?) I'm also workshopping the idea of a few accessories coming together to become Darkners too. (ie, some belts, boots, a hat and a feathery boa becoming a cowboy with belt whips/lassos with a boa bird who can attack for them). Not all of these Darkners need to be more prominent or important ones like Queen, King, Rouxls, or even like shopkeepers and secret bosses like Seam, Swatch, Jevil or Spamton. In fact, I want them to be more like the NPC enemies you mostly just battle, like the Ruddins, Jiggsawrys, Bloxers, Plugboys, Swatchlings, Tasques, etc.

So then how do you enter this? Well! Just leave a submission to my blog! Here's the information I need.

Object your Darkner NPC is based on. Remember, since I want these to be NPCs, there needs to be multiple of them. As well, they object their based on needs to be found in an attic. Specifically, Papyrus and Mettaton's attic. I'm looking for a lot of fashion and clothing based Darkners.

A description and/or a picture or how that object if Darkner-ified. This is a written story, but I still need some sort of idea/visualization as to how that object is Darkner-ified. How is the concept of the object they're based on carried over? Can they talk like Swatchlings, or are they more animal-like like Tasques? That sort of stuff.

General sort of idea of what they'd be like in battle. What are they're attacks? How do they interact with other Darkners on the same team as them? What ACTs can the Lightners us against them and which ACTs spare them? Etc.

This one's technically optional, but do you have a name for them? Either a name for the type of Darkner they are (like how all the Ruddins or Swatchlings, though there are multiple of them, are only known as Ruddin or Swatchling) or if they're a more individual Darkner (which you're still allowed to submit), what's their name?

Finally, what's they're sorta personality? This can also go with the description, but also I mostly need to know if they're part of the attic Darkners who are causing problems in the story. I imagine most of them will be, (especially the NPC groups) but not all the attic Darkners are causing issues. If you decide to go the more individual Darkner route, those seem like the ones that are going to cause less problems for Chicago and the crew in the story.

Another thing I should mention, I have a plan for Mettaton's old Neo suit parts. We already know thanks to the Spamton NEO stuff in Chapter 2, that (at least a drawing of) the suit, became a mech-like machine. In Ish however, the suit isn't just a drawing, and the real parts of the suit are in attic. My only issue is, I'm not sure if I want Spamton to be the one in that gigantic mech this time. (This story is about the poor puppet man learning to heal and move on.) I still need someone controlling (or maybe being controlled by) that suit. So if you so desire, you can also come up with an attic Darkner that fills that role. I'd likely just contact me for further details.

I'm not sure how many people I'll be choosing as winners (depends on how many people enter) but anyone is free to enter and give me or ideas, and those I do pick, will get to feature in my story. (Once this part comes out.) You can enter as many submissions as you want (mostly because I'm desperate for ideas) and, as long as your ideas fit, I have no limit on how many entries per person I use. (Though that may change if I get more entries that I'm anticipating I get, which is honestly very little.)

While I want to just allow submissions for until it's time for the chapters I have this planned for to release, I should set an actual submission deadline. Let's go for April 15th. That gives me a few weeks until Chapter 23 is scheduled to release based on the system I already have.

Anyways, thanks for your time and I look forwards to your submissions Creative Creators!

Also remember to vote on my Addison Name polls until the end of the week! There's 4 days left and I would love a bigger sample size! (Especially on the ones other than the Pink one)

[glassrowboat]

(I haven't had the chance to play his quest yet, so forgive me if this clashes against anything we learned).

Your fingers were already twitching to get back on the machine that lay before you again, aching to touch, to explore, to learn every crevice better than you know the back of your own hand. After all, what were some calloused hands covered in knicks from the times you forgot to put on gloves compared to this beauty before you? Shining in the low light of the lamp you had flicked on to get a better look at this cyborg and the holographic screen currently pulled up with its blueprints. Or, what you could make of them with the screening you did.

There was a lot to uncover here between layer upon layer of metal plating, cables, and tech you had never seen before. Each little detail reflects a neon blue in your eyes as you take it all in.

This would be worth the headache you'd get later. A few pills aren't enough to equal out to the marvel you had access to.

Well, keyword here being had as that space cowboy groaned as he woke up. His hands immediately ran over the once damaged torso he had come to you for.

Just thinking about it had you clicking your tongue. Annoyance is clear in your expression as you meet Boothill’s eyes. Another thing you want to dissect, but it's best not to look too over excited. Not yet, anyhow.

“What kind of idiot gets hit by a ray gun and decides the best thing he can do in the moment is stumble into some random shop for cover?”

He was just lucky you knew a thing or two about this stuff, though the sign outside reading ‘repair shop’ must have been what drew Boothill in. He's literate, at least. That or extremely lucky.

“I wasn't exactly in the best spot to fuck around, so I had to get my shit together. Pull myself up by my bootstraps and figure out what backup plan I could rely on. Stumblin’ in here just so happened to be my plan to make a break for it.”

And he had a foul tongue.

Your fingers danced over the blueprint again, scouring it over with the same intensity you did the gift that had quite literally dropped at your door to find where his Synesthesia Beacon is. You'll have to alter that later, maybe make it so he can't speak to you so crudely. After all, something even Aeons themselves would stop to take a spared glance at shouldn't be so crass.

“I was under the impression a southern gentleman would know it's best not to waggle his tongue like that in front of someone he's in debt to.”

“Nah, that ain't it. That's for ladies and fine folks and from what I can see,” his eye (the one you can see) looked around your workshop, taking in the tools lining the walls, the rags thrown around the disposal bin, and finally: you. You in your oil covered glory with specks of ash on your cheek from trying to scratch an itch with your gloves on. “You ain't no lady.”

“Oh yeah?” You asked, head cocking to the side.

“‘Sides, I'm not a stick up the ass southern gent either.”

“Seems we're at a draw then.”

You rolled your eyes as he said something about a standoff. Boothill really is playing into every cliche you know about those western movies from the planet Earth. Dingy old hat all the way down to the spurs on his boot.

Wait a minute, are his shoes part of his leg, and he just has a sole slapped on the bottom?

That's gonna have to be addressed later too.

“So, space cowboy, are you going to tell me how you got into trouble in the first place? That way, I know what to chew you out for.”

“Don't see how that matters to ya, mechanic. ‘Sides, it all worked out in the end, didn't it?” Boothill shrugged.

He was so lax. Far too casual about nearly destroying something so state of the art even the friend you had called in to discuss what parts needed to be replaced couldn't be named. Though, she did give you an odd look on her way out.

“Alright Boothill, it seems we need to lay down some ground rules.” You marched over to him, not caring one bit as the man flinched the moment your foot stomped down between his open legs (not that you're sure he has anything down there anyway).”First, open communication does tend to help in new partnerships.”

Boothill’s eyes flicked from your well-worn boots, tattered at the edges, revealing the steel toe underneath, back up to you. “Partnership? Are you for fucking real?”

“Dead serious.”

He had a little bullseye for a pupil, glaring up at you in what you could only guess is annoyance or pure unbridled astonishment that you'd go around ordering the guy who had tried to grasp for his gun to point at your head as he came in.

You'd have to see if the other eye matches sometime.

“Come on, Boothill, whoever was fixing you up before clearly wasn't who you ran to, meaning you had no other choice.”

“I was in a bit of a pinch you see.”

You gestured to one of the plates on his chest, one crossed over with a giant X that had your eye twitching at the thought someone dared to damage this body in such a way. Or at all, really. “And when I get the material in for your ‘pec’ there, I can fix you up and make you look all…spiffy.”

Sure, that sounded like something a cowboy would say.

He snorted out a laugh, and you couldn't help but wonder if he could huff out steam if his body was overheating to help cool it down. After all, it would only make sense that Boothill had some sort of internal system to keep the heat down.

“And what the fuck makes you unable to do it now?”

“The IPC. What you're made out of, buddy, is hard to come by when they have a monopoly on the metal.” You said as you tapped his chest, your knuckle rapping against the very plating you were talking about.

Boothill couldn't help but scoff, his lips curling up to reveal the sharp teeth you had run your finger over before to figure out what their purpose was.

To help make bullets, you learned.

Truly, whoever made this machine, this Aeonsend itself, was a genius beyond your caliber, but you had to start somewhere to grow even if it meant studying their work with a fever.

“You're about as crazy as a loon, pardner."

Your brow quirks at the word, ‘partner’ coming from the man who had literally just been whining about the idea of collaborating before.

His mind seemed to change far too quickly, settling on one thing to the next with an ease you'll have to learn to get used to. Still, you held out your hand as you asked: “So it's a then deal, cowboy?”

“It's a deal.”

His hand fit perfectly in your own, digits that flexed with ease despite their composition, the cold feel of metal you've grown so used to, and the WD-40 you had used to shine him up all clean earlier.

You'd have to figure out how his hand worked, too.

mechanic reader who fawns over boothill's machine body with torrents of praise worthy of the sappiest romance novels—but doesn't even consider the man attached to all those gorgeous wires and fine pistons and elegant hydrolics and ooh, what an efficient system of dynamic pseudo-muscle memory!! you're so honoured to work with this beauty, to innovate upon it, even!

boothill, meanwhile, is fighting for his life to be acknowledged.

exhibit A:

he's laying on a metal slab in your lab, half of his chest popped open, your fingers fiddling inside with the tubes that feed into a fuel tank. you acquired top-grade Neutrinoil(TM) and you simply HAD to deep-clean and upgrade his plumbing. so he has to watch and bear it while you're straddling him, hands in his guts, cooing about how perfectly efficient he's about to be, how much energy he'll have, how that "awesome new engine's gonna exploit every last drop, not an inkling wasted, and this beautiful machine will run for ages."

"if ya like it so much, why not drop by my ship later? i could show ya a trick or two. put that new energy to use."

you perk up with excitement, and for a glimmering instant he thinks he's got it in the bag, until you gleefully announce, "oh, no, let's do it in my workshop! i'll hook you up to the scanners first, i must collect as much data as possible!! wait, is it a physical trick or should i also plug in the peri-mental data receptors?"

[outlaw-livin]

Hunting Partners: part two

Part one.

The sun was setting when they set up camp, deep in the cumberland forest, off the trail where the nearest living things were the critters in the trees and the fish in the river.

Canned chicken soup and crusty bread was their supper, and Mercy sipped her beer as she watched Arthur scribble away in his journal, leaning against a tree, the flames from the fire cast interesting shadows on his handsome face.

“Whatcha writing cowboy?”

“Drawing the view…the river’s peaceful.”

“Can I see?”

He hesitated, then sighed

“Sure..I ain’t much of an artist..”

He held the journal up, and across the two pages was indeed the view of the camp, both the tents, the fire, the river but in the forefront was Mercy’s own face staring back, sipping from her beer bottle.

“You…drew me?”

“I’ve enjoyed hunting with ya..” 

He closed the journal and tucked away the pencil 

“Even if we ain’t caught much.”

She smiled “It's you, trudging ‘bout in your boots, scaring away everything.”

“Well we can’t all be dainty little things like you, Miss Thomas..” 

“I ain’t dainty, nor little.” 

She stood up and walked over to him, she held out the bottle

“As you well know, Mr Morgan.” 

“Forgive me for not being terrified of someone who can’t reach the top shelf at the store.”

He took the bottle and took a swig, he chuckled 

“And who drinks watered down beer..”

“You don’t wanna be sloshed out here…lots of nasty things in these woods.”

A glint appeared in his eye, half devilish, half predatory 

“Yet you willingly sit down to eat with one.” 

“You are a teddy bear compared to some, Morgan.” 

She sat down in his lap, he made no effort to stop her

“Sure..you’ve killed some folk, but who hasn’t?” 

She took the beer bottle from his hand and brought it to her lips, the bastard had almost drank all that was left.

“I’ve done my fair share of bad deeds…so ya won’t scare me away with the big brooding cowboy act.”

She discarded the beer bottle, it clattered somewhere near the rivers edge.  

“You’re playing with fire, Miss Thomas.” 

He placed his large hands on her waist, they almost fit right away around her, his thumbs almost touching.

“Did that night at camp mean anythin’ or was it just a cold evenin’ and ya wanted some warmth?” 

He stared at her lips, his eyes hidden in the shadow of his hat.

“Since I first met ya…I felt something…Something I have no right feeling..”  He squeezed her waist “I thought you and Sean had something..but then that night proved me wrong so I guess I was just..”

He sighed and closed his eyes, she could see his long eyelashes up close, blonde and beautiful, just like his hair.

“Mercy..You deserve better than me.”

“Don’t I get to decide that?”

“I’ve got a prize on my head, I can never settle down…never give you a stable home…or children or-”

She cut him off with a kiss, he tasted of beer and tobacco, and chicken soup, bread crumbs were still in his mustache and beard.

“Arthur..I don’t care ‘bout any of that, Would I have moved out of Valentine if I did?”

“You joined the gang because Sean asked..”

“I joined because of the scary cowboy who eyed me over when he brought me to camp, and I stayed when that man saved my life during the train robbery…”

She cupped his face in her hands, tangling her fingers in his soft beard

“I stayed because of you, Arthur.”

“Merc-”

“Don’t.” she kissed the tip of his nose “I’m a big gal Arthur, I’d rather regret us being together then regret never trying.”

He kissed her this time, pulling her closer by her waist so their chests were pressed together, his teeth tugged at her bottom lip and she gasped, opening her mouth just enough for his tongue to dart inside and rub against hers, she moaned, his fingers dug into her waist with such iron grip she wouldn’t be surprised if they left bruises. 

He pulled away, she whined, he chuckled 

“We didn’t need to bring two tents after all…” 

His voice was low, desire dripping off every word, she remembered the night in his tent, of how he’d whispered in her ear as she buried her face in his chest, trying not to let out any noise that would attract attention, he’d left her a sweaty mewling mess and then just rolled over and slept, at least this time she wouldn’t have to walk back to her own tent, tail between her legs.

“This time there’s no one around…so you can be as loud as you want..” He kissed her neck “Ya can make all those pretty noises..”

“If you give me reason too..” 

He stood up, holding her waist so she could lock her legs around his thick waist.

“Oh I intend to Miss Thomas…dontcha worry.”

[chemistryread]

disclaimers/tags: female oc. written as a reader insert but reader has a lot of backstory. slowburn. angst. no fun spin on misogyny, just the bad one. implied domestic violence but nothing too graphic. minors dni.

a/n: the plot of the show is not relevant to this story, i’m just using the characters, who are likely ooc. i’m hoping to end it within 3-4 posts but like i said, it’s a bit of a slowburn. i pulled the wattpad tropes out for this one and i’m not sorry, it is cheesy. if you’ve seen the show, the boyfriend shares similarities with the tillerson boys. it’s purposefully ambiguous, up to you if it’s one of them or not. rhett is not a fuckboy in this, just a boy who fucks.

lmk your thoughts :)

part 2

right cowboy, wrong time

rhett abbott

summary: you’re not home and your boyfriend’s a dick. thankfully, not all cowboys are bad.

The humid air makes your nose itch, adapting to the change in weather. Your head is held high, however, trying not to look too out of place and dare draw any attention.

"You're not fooling anyone."

"Excuse me?"

He leans in by your side, arms crossing in front of him as he looks over his elbows, pretending something in the mud caught his eye.

"Most girls from the city who try to pass as locals at least dress up the part. You couldn't find any boots that fit your taste?"

Blue eyes squint at the pair of Vans perched on the wooden fence, matching your dark 'mom jeans'.

It was bold of this guy, you thought, to come up to you with so much snark after falling from a bull so badly the audience audibly winced. But there was something soft in his features, non malicious. You decide to risk being honest with him.

"The cowboy hat is a demand from my boyfriend. So is the push-up bra." You point to your pronounced chest with your chin, smiling when the stranger next to you follows the movement with a lazy gaze. "It's funny, he said something similar. He wants me to look more like the girls from around here."

The stranger finally looks you in the eye from under his own hat. Unfamiliar warmth fills your belly and you fight the urge to clear the hair away from his face.

"Why doesn't he just date them, then?"

A loud bitter laugh escapes from your lips right into his ears, and he straigtens up instantly, like a shock.

"Million dollar question, isn't it?" Thin lips reciprocate your smile. God, you thought you hated all cowboys. "Uhm, he says they bore him. He wants my brain, but their look. If you ask me the truth, I just think he went through all of them already, so he went looking for an idiot to appease him somewhere else. And he found me."

Amusement crosses his eyes despite the frown in display on his face.

"He sounds like an asshole."

Unkown nice cowboy has a lovely, deep voice.

You're about to lean a little closer and agree, when someone cuts you off.

"Who does?" Blinding white teeth bite into the cold night air, the strong arms of your boyfriend crushing your side into him, akin to a predator protecting his meal. "Abbott."

Your new friend acknowledges the tall blonde possessively separating you two with equal contempt in his words.

Suddenly, you're invisible. The nice boy leaves without so much as a glance.

These will be miserable months.

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

"So, Abbott, huh?"

Maybe you shouldn't have followed him into the grocery store, but it was hot outside.

"What, interested? We might have a name, but that name doesn't have much money attached to it anymore."

He doesn't look at you, simply puts what he needs in his basket and keeps walking. You trace his steps from a distance, enjoying the refreshing breeze from the AC.

"No danger of that. As you've seen, I'm taken."

His arm freezes above his head, shades of blue boring into you inquisitively, before he grabs a can of beans and checks the expiration date on it.

"I'm just looking for a friend. I'll hardly survive here if I don't have any of those."

"What about your guy? He won't like this friendship."

You shrug innocently, dusting the shelves with the tip of your fingers.

"It's his fault I can't have any girl friends in this town, seeing they are all his exes and consequently dislike me at once. Plus, who said I want you to be my friend? I'm just banking on the fact that your family is known around here, and you'd be an easy shortcut to meeting people."

"So you're using me." He speaks over his shoulder, walking to the freezer section.

"Sure am. But at least I'm honest about it."

His back is still turned to you when he speaks again.

"Is that a big thing for you, honesty?"

Your skin grows hot. This random cute boy can't read your mind, relax. He's trying to get to know you. It's small talk. Not everyone wants to hurt you.

"It is. Count on it."

Hopefully, how vulnerable it is to admit as much doesn't come across.

Abbott side-eyes you, with a genuine smirk. It forces you to look away, intimidated.

Maybe it was mistake to target him. You should leave.

Before a rude goodbye can leave your lips, the young man turns to you.

"Why are you here, if you don't know anyone?"

Short fingernails picking the label off cheap frozen veggies, you try to smile but it certainly doesn't reach your eyes.

"Taking some time off university."

How embarrassing. You have no problem poking and probing until they do it to you, and then you're avoiding eye contact and looking for an exit.

"What do you study?"

"English. In Boston. I'm a writer. Allegedly."

You can tell your joke entertains him from the small exhale that comes out of his nose.

"Do you like it?"

"I love it." The truth finally forces you to look up. You notice the confusion on his face, anticipating his question with a shrug. "My boyfriend. He wanted me to take a break."

Abbott looks disappointed, and, for whatever reason, it hurts. A silly desire for him to think highly of you.

"I don't mean to overstep, but I wouldn't peg you for the kind'f girl to go where a man tells her to."

A terrible habit, you cover the purple spot on your jaw with your hair, pretending to smooth non existent knots.

"It wasn't an easy choice, but it was for the best."

Thin brows furrow and dirty fingers brush the strands away, gently. Of course he would notice.

"I'll get out of your hair now, sorry to bother. I was really just trying to cool off. See you around!"

Trembling hands push the grocery store's doors, curse words mumbled under your breath. Great fucking job, idiot.

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

He approaches you next.

You saw him earlier when you got to the bar, drinking with another guy, but kept your head down and continued walking next to your boyfriend and his friends.

It was going to be hard to get to you, since you weren't allowed to be alone unless you were going to the bathroom. Which is how he got you.

As soon as you step out to wash your hands, he's in the corridor, chewing on his bottom lip.

"Stranger." Eyes meet and you try to ignore the hair in the back of your neck standing up. You do your best to not get your sleeves wet without having to push them up too high. "Men's room occupied?"

He doesn't miss the suggestivenes on your tone, copying the smirk you're struggling to hide. For all you know, he might have some pretty blonde freshening up in there.

"You city folks and beating 'round the bush."

His voice rumbles through you, tongue busy tsking at your poor attempt at avoiding the elephant in the room.

You take him in through the mirror's reflection. Hands in his pockets, leaning on the plastic divider failing to pass as real wood. Looking determinedly at you.

If you said so, would he beat the shit out of your boyfriend and make sure he never calls again?

Tossing the crumpled handtowel in the trash, your back touches the soaked and sticky counter, commanding him to listen by returning his direct staring.

"Okay. This is not your problem to fix. I'm sorry about what you saw, it wasn't a signal or anything. I'm fine and you don't need to get involved. Good?"

He nods and you move to leave, stopped by an unsure hand grabbing your elbow. It quickly retracts to his side, wiping against his jeans.

"Do you need a job or something?"

"I thought your family didn't have much money."

A shy smile takes over his features, breaking the restraint that always seems to reign over. Another small chuckle escapes him, making his Adam's apple throb and your eyes drag not so subtly.

The smell of hard vodka hits your nose when he inches closer, stuttering.

"My brother, uhm, has a friend who owns a diner nearby. It's smack centre of town, busy enough that he always needs more help and most of the creeps avoid it. Probably not what a fancy writer from Boston dreams of but if you plan on sticking around, it'll help you get some of your own cash."

The promise of independence.

You give him a warm smile you haven't gifted anyone with in a while.

"Can I get the name of this magical place?"

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

It's early, too early, his head feels like it weighs three times its normal and all he wants is for his family to lower their voices.

Until your sweet ring, sharpened for customer service points, breaks through his morning suffering and drowns the sour taste in his mouth.

"Hello, beautiful people. What can I get you?" The apron is neatly tied with a bow on top of your stomach, clearly tightened around your back and then the front again, with more effort than he's ever seen in this diner. He can't help but scoff, and you finally look up from the old school notepad in your hands. "Oh, hi."

Everyone at the table shoots him a glare, assuming what they always did. One more girl they'll never learn the name of, and it's possibly better that way.

His mother, in particular, has a scowl on her face, looking out the window and avoiding dealing with whoever her son messes with.

"Happy to see you here."

The sun bothers his eyes, one of which is closed when he acknowledges you. He has no idea how his mom can have her head turned that way without wincing. Although she coughs, he's sure it's in response to what he had just said.

It was innocent, but she didn't know that.

"Wouldn't be if it wasn't for you." That gets his mother to look. "Thanks, by the way."

He puts his fist in front of his lips, elbows glued to the recently wiped table, a bit embarrassed of all the attention you dumped onto him.

"I didn't do nothing, Perry is the one who talked to his friend. You should thank him."

You throw a small smile at him, almost teasing, barely whispering an 'oh'. He sees very little of your teeth, rosy lips and dimples provoking him for a brief second before you redirect your kindness to his brother on the other side of the table.

"I am very grateful, you basically got me the job." Perry extends his hand for you to shake, and there's a little spark in his eyes that's been gone since Rebecca. Maybe it's your effect on people. "Let me return the favor and get you guys a good breakfast, what do you say?"

When you leave, he takes a page from his mom's book and stares at the brightness cascading down the trucks in the parking lot. His head hurts again but at least he's definitely not thinking about the lines around your eyes when you grin or the flowery smell you left behind.

"Who is she?"

"Drop it, ma." The question comes in a much more unpretentious manner than usual and it doesn't go unnoticed by him, even if he's not looking at her. "Some girl from outta town who needed help settling in. That's all."

At the last word, he tips his hat over his eyes and decides he's better off daydreaming about the attractive outsider committed to being nice to him than fending off his family's suspicions.

You leave them to it after serving their plates, and he misses your eyes on him but doesn't say anything.

When they're leaving, Amelia dettaches herself from her father's grip and pokes you in the leg as you're cleaning a different table close to the exit. He holds the door, intrigued by what on earth this kid is up to now.

"Uncle Rhett says you're from out of town." He almost knocks his forehead on the glass as he realizes he offered you a job but never a name. You nod at his niece, sending him a questioning look. "You're just as pretty as I thought they'd be."

He feels like bolting out of the diner and running home. What if you thought he told Amelia to say that to you? You'll think he's a fucking loser.

Not that he should care this much.

Instead, he's frozen in place watching another breathtaking smile blossom on your face as you think about how to react.

"Well," You sigh, and look straight into the little girl's eyes. "Takes one to know one."

With a wink, you exchange introductions and he might have to thank his niece later for that, because he never asked for your name either.

You go straight back to wiping the table so he walks away, but not without a weird feeling someone's watching as he climbs into the back of the truck.

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

It's a while before he sees you again.

He doesn't bother you at work, too shy despite his curiosity to go in alone and too hungover to wake up in time to follow his family for breakfast.

You don't go out much, or at all, apparently. He's at the bar every night, you're not.

He sees Maria though, stunning as ever. And like most nights, she makes him too nervous and he does nothing about it.

Perry calls in a favor and now he's parking the truck in the back of the diner with a couple of boxes of fresh produce on the passenger seat.

It's you who comes out to greet him.

You're awfully quiet and evasive, taking the boxes inside without making eye contact.

When you come back with the money, you accidentally skip a step, heel of your shoe sliding off the wood and causing you to land a little harsh on the concrete.

He's quick to steady you, ready to joke about your useless sneakers when he realizes the contorted look on your face and how you're grabbing at your left knee.

"Ok there?"

Like you remembered yourself, your back straightens up and you shove the money into his hands, pushing him away in the process. The distance is not enough that he doesn't see the tears welling up in your eyes.

"Fine. Here you go. Lenny says thanks."

Turning to climb back inside, as soon as your left leg rises, you audibly wince and stop.

He's not too sure of what do, until he hears shaky breaths.

"I'll take you to a hospital, let-"

"No hospitals, I can't."

It's an automatic response and he understands immediately.

"How bad is it?"

He can't really see through your jeans.

"He- I fell. I think it's just bruised, I don't know."

"My mom can take a look at it, she's had plenty of practice with my brother and I, she won't mind. Don't protest, just get in the car. I'll tell Lenny you're not feeling too good."

Before you can stop him, he's putting the money on Lenny's palm and stammering out an excuse. He's surprised by how fast he sprung into action too.

During the ride you don't cry, but stubborn hiccups give away that you're holding the tears back really hard. He wants to tell you it's okay, he doesn't care if you cry, but he's scared if he opens his mouth he'll end up saying something that'll make you more upset, choosing instead to white-knuckle his steering wheel.

His mother is washing the pans from lunch when he gets home, you following behind uncertain, making yourself small. It's a stark contrast from the day you followed him into the grocery store, mindlessly striking up conversation, and it bothers him.

She remembers you, surprisingly, but still asks menacingly what he thinks he's doing.

"She's hurt, and I thought you might help, Ma.”

You look so uncomfortable, ashamed to impose. He tells you to take a seat on the couch and moves to grab you a glass of water from the kitchen, stopping by his mother to put a hand on her shoulder and whisper who's your boyfriend.

A look of understanding quickly crosses her eyes, and instant compassion takes over, huffing as she crouches down to get the first aid kit under the sink.

The two women fall into comfortable silence. The knee is simply sore, the skin a little dark, but he knows you probably didn't give it any time to heal, waltzing around the diner for days without taking care of yourself.

You're given pain killers and he finally hands you the water, fingertips wet from nervously gripping the bottom of the glass, trying not to curse out the man responsible for your situation.

This kind of thing wasn't entirely unusual for smaller, conservative towns, but times have gladly changed. No one here likes to see it, the cuplrits are pointed out wherever they go, sometimes being denied service and shunted from the community. Still, no one's forward enough to put themselves in between 'husband and wife'.

It's a pity, he thinks. All you had to do was ask, and he would get his father and his brother to kick an entire generation of blonde little pricks out of their town.

Alas, you never did.

He thinks you don't want to ask, analyzing closely how apologetic you are to his mother, scared to sit back on the couch and take space that isn’t yours.

The older woman gets up, glancing between you and him.

"Don't worry, kid. I'm quite happy to meet you. I usually don't get to tell Rhett's girls they are welcome to stay."

She manages to be endearing to you and venomous to him in the same breath, and he chuckles lowly through gritted teeth, looking up at the ceiling. Of course she would say something like that.

Wondering what you're probably thinking of him at his mother's revelation, he finds you biting back a grin, dimples digging into your cheeks. Once more, he loses control of himself and returns - actually, no, gratuitously hands you a wide smile in a silver platter. His reaction is five times bigger than yours.

"His girls, plural, you say?" There's something infuriating about your energy towards him. You're fucking with him, no doubt about that, but it's not mean. Well, maybe a little bit because you seem to enjoy the way he changes his footing back and forth, blushing at his damn boots. Somehow, however, it fills him with giddiness. He has no reason to be so certain about it, but he knows it's lighthearted. If you had evil intent, maybe he would've already had you crammed into his truck and drooling around his cock. Unfortunately, seems like you were truthful that day at the store. You want a friend. "'Fraid I'm not of them, ma'am. I have my own guy to worry about."

You're looking back at the matriarch now, arms hanging on top of cushions, green blemishes hidden underneath your biceps.

"That's never stopped any of you before."

It's a test.

You're quicker than her.

"I don't think the size of a district interferes with someone's morals. I might've been raised by a big city, but I'm not and have never been that kind of girl."

His mother snaps back your way, spine straight, slowly breaking out a smile. You passed with flying colors. She likes folks who can stand up for themselves, means they think they're good enough to start a fight over, and that's good enough for her.

At that moment, Amelia bursts through the door, already rambling to her grandmother about something she learned in school that day.

When she sees you, she freezes in the middle of the kitchen, out of breath from all the talking. Fast hands roll your pant leg down before she can see anything.

Amy can barely contain her smile, fixing herself up and dropping her school bag on the floor. "What are you doing here?"

You brush off the older members of the family reprimanding her lack of manners.

"Paying a visit. On my way out, though, I should be getting back to work."

Trying to stand up without a fuss is a disaster, and he's right by your side in case you need to lean on someone. Of course you reject it, though.

"Are you okay?"

"Just fine. I slipped at work and your uncle offered to help, that's all."

Shooting the girl a reassuring smile, she betrays it with a suspicious laugh.

The two of you stare at her, confused.

"Yeah, Uncle Rhett is such a helping hand."

Sarcasm is dripping from her words and he knows immediately that you two will get along. Dangerously so.

Ignoring the brat, he turns to you, hand still hovering behind your back.

"It's late, there's like, what? Forty minutes left to your shift? Twenty after we finally get there? I'll just take you home."

Your eyes widen at the mention of home. Of course he, an Abbott, can't drop you off at your boyfriend's property, where he assumed you were staying.

"Wait, can I show you around before you go? I want you to see something."

Amelia butts in before he can signal that he understood and he'd give you a ride to town, at least. You nod at the smaller figure, letting her take your hand.

He's debating whether or not to follow you two, until you look back from the doorway.

"Aren't you coming? If we get lost, we might need your savior complex."

It's another dig at him. This time, he has a comeback at the tip of his tongue.

"I'll stop saving you when you stop needing me."

He knows his mother is smiling.

Whatever confident spirit possessed him, it pushes him out the door, chest grazing yours as he tips his hat your way, boots digging into the humid grass and whistling for one the dogs to accompany you.

He hears you laugh for the first time since he saw you at the rodeo. It's really, really nice.

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

You begin seeing each other more often after that day.

Rhett comes in at least three times a week, usually with Amelia, paying for her milkshake. They sit at the counter so they can talk to you when you're not attending to any tables.

You don't think much of it. Your boyfriend's the only one you go home to every night, no matter what. You have no intentions of changing that, for now.

Aside from the Abbotts, Danielle who works with you is the only other friend you've made. You like it that way. Lenny, not unlike the patrons at the diner, asks too many personal questions so you keep your conversations to a minimum.

Work, then to your boyfriend's mansion.

The house is usually quiet, so after being stuck for so long in a writer's block, it's a relief when you pick up your laptop and start something new. It could be worse.

On a slow Wednesday, Amelia convinces you to let her help wipe the tables.

Bending down to pick up an abandoned spoon on the floor, something strange nags at the pit of your stomach. Rhett is talking to a girl with long, dark hair.

It happens. But with her, you notice, his body language is much more insecure. Spilling his coffee accidentally.

"What am I looking at?"

Amelia barely spares them a glance before scoffing. "That's Maria. Uncle Rhett has had a dying crush on her since high school. That's what my dad says."

"She's beautiful."

She really is. When she leaves the diner, most pair of eyes, men and women, follow her.

"I guess. Too beautiful, my dad says, and that's why my uncle never does anything about it. It scares him."

What you wouldn't give to feel like that for a day.

Dating a man who is constantly requesting that you look different, like other people, is terribly exhausting. And some got to walk around effortlessly desirable to everyone. It's hardly fair.

With his credit card, you buy new clothes and more make up. It's a good few weeks for the two of you, best you've had in a while.

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

On a day off, you decide to tag along for the rodeo.

Maria is there too, with one of your boyfriend's brothers, which you find weird. In a sea of options, she can definitely do better. You'd tell her, but under his eagle eye you have no time to introduce yourself.

Rhett is riding one of the bulls, and you see how her eyes never leave him, even when he's standing in the sidelines waiting for his turn. She wrings her hands together when he mounts, and claps excitedly when he marks a good time despite the pointed looks from the boys.

Your hand is in a tight grip as you walk into the bar, and the minute you do, Maria frees herself with two strong strides. Your feet almost follow her, wondering if her group of girlfriends would let you sit with them and just listen.

She spends her night laughing, dancing, and talking to Rhett as the bartender serves her a new round. Yours is spent watching in envy.

A hand possessively squeezes around your thigh, drawing your attention away.

"Sorry. I need air."

Three minutes is all you get to yourself. Heavy boots make the wood creak, awkward step causing you to stifle a tipsy laugh.

He's not gonna forgive you for that.

You're pressed against the wall, his arms trapping you as he snarls his complaints, hair flying into your mouth as you yell back. It's bad, and loud, but fuck it.

He talks about how boring you are, how the other girls don't mind growing their hair in the heat, their nails are still manicured, their asses still full despite not eating much. You talk about feeling overwhelmed and homesick, out of your element. It's not the same. It's not fucking fair.

The Abbott siblings walk out when he's calling you a stuck up bitch, your answer dying in your throat.

You're so fucking stupid. Incapable of controlling yourself. He notices the look you exchange with the younger brother, quietly crossing your arms and swallowing your tears, flustered cheeks pointing at the ground.

In no time, he's scoffing and turning towards the entrance.

"Abbott, you got something to tell me?"

Rolling your eyes, you push yourself to sound annoyed and confused, calling his name.

He shuts you up with a finger to your face.

"Don't play dumb." Looking between the pair of you, the lewdness in his next sentence makes you nauseous. "I can't let your whore ass out of my sight, can I?"

Rhett steps forward and you know this is not going to end well.

They're talking over each other and your attempt to be heard is pathetic, trying nonetheless, pulling by his shirt and begging him to let it go.

Knowing exactly how to put a stop to this nonsense, you put your body in between the men and, reactively, an elbow makes contact with your mouth. The blood is still not as sickening as your boyfriend's remarks.

It doesn't take much to assure you it was him. Perry and Rhett are more careful than that, probably raised well by their mama (in a brief moment of dizziness, a smile comes to your bloody lips). But he stopped yelling, and moving. Throwing scared glances between the people outside.

People knew, but to deal with it man to man was different.

Spitting out the dark liquid, you look up at your boyfriend. "Can we go home now?"

Cursing under his breath, he shoulders past the other boys and walks away to wait for you by the truck.

If you stop to breathe, you might crumble. So you turn and walk back inside, poignantly avoiding the two pairs of eyes bugging out at you.

Determined steps take you to the table you were sitting at minutes ago. If you had just kept your emotions under- nevermind that.

The girls, Maria especially, are terrified to see your red teeth. Her eyes question something behind you, and you assume Rhett followed you inside.

Anticipating his hand on the small of your back, you take a step closer to the table, fully under the white light hanging above. The boys are unphased by your state.

"Keys." Met with a wave of grunts at the thought of losing their friend this early in the night. "He wants to go."

A blonde head pokes out, challenging. Drunk out of his mind, slurring his words. "C'mon, I thought it was your job to, howtoputit, mellow him out? Did you even try? Let me look down your throat, say 'Ah'."

A couple people laugh. Rhett growls behind you, and before he can make things worse, you square your shoulders, then shrug.

"Why do you think he wants to go?" You could puke right then and there. Instead, you extend your hand. "Keys."

You bump Rhett on the shoulder on your way out, just like your boyfriend. The regret and the image of those crooked repulsive smiles at the table cause you to throw up as soon as your shoes hit the dirt. Perry looks away, respectfully, until you're climbing inside the truck.

--

part 2 is finished and will come out soon :)

[jakelandryshorts]

All American Beef

John wasn’t sure if he wanted to go to the cook out. He’d not seen Steven in nearly a decade and wasn’t all too sure how much the two had in common anymore. But Steven insisted. It was a bit surprising. The two were never great friends. Steven was always a bit of jock and then left their hometown almost the moment he could. However, John decided he might as well catch up with a couple of his old friends before he was getting too old. Being in his thirties, wasn’t like it was in his early twenties. He could meet people at college or bars, Now, he felt a bit old and out of place. Not to mention if he stayed out too late or drank too much, he’d be hurting in the morning.

He plugged the address into his GPS and then headed off. Steven had boasted about fireworks and celebrating the fourth. Making sure to have enough beer and food for everyone there. All John needed to bring was an empty stomach. But with how long of a drive it was to get there, he was almost wanting to pick something up on the way. John had seen the posts online of Steven bragging about his massive plot of land and the cows that he had on it. But he just hadn’t realized how much of a drive it was going to be. Once John hit an old rocky road, he was about to turn around. Being out in the middle of nowhere and thinking about his hungry stomach on an hour and a half drive back seemed to push him forward.

The road was bumpy all the way down. Each rock bouncing off the bottom of John’s car made him grimace a bit. ‘Almost there. Almost there,’ he maintained his mantra until he could see the large ranch style house in the distance. “Oh thank God…” John let out the breath that he’d been holding as he pulled his car to a stop. Then added a quick glance around his car to make sure there wasn’t too much damage.

“Well I’ll be! Is that them there John?”

John shot up. “Ste-Steven?” he tilted his head. Somehow the voice sounded familiar. But different. John couldn’t place it. The clear and obvious southern drawl just made it sound like someone he would have never talked to. Even more when he saw who it was attached to. This wasn’t the Steven he knew. The Steven he knew may have worked out from time to time, but damn, this guy would have been in the gym nearly every day. Every muscle on him was perfectly sculpted. Yet, at the same time none of them looked just for show. And show he did, as the lack of a shirt made it impossible to hide his pecs or abs.

One of Steven’s strong arms wrapped around John’s shoulders. “Sure am! Was bout to think you’d not get here. Be a real shame if ya missed out on dinner!” Then easily shook the other man as he walked down his yard.

“Yeah… That would have been bad…” John nodded. He was still stunned at just how hot Steven had become. Not that he was into that kind of thing, it was just seeing his lean muscular build was something he was always a bit jealous of. Not to mention how the cowboy hat, jeans and cowboy boots only seemed to draw more of his attention towards the rugged persona he was putting.

“Damn right it would have! We got some real all American beef here. None of that processed shit you get down at da store. They put all them chemicals or whatever and you’d be eatin more of a monkey than a cow,” Steven added.

“Really?”

Steven pulled John in tight. “Nah man. I don’t know. I jus’ know once I got some of the real shit I couldn’t go back. Tastes so much better an’ I can’t argue with the results.” He held up his arm and gave it a flex. The bicep bulged with power.

“Right,” John nodded as Steven led him around his house to the barn in the back. There were dozens of tables packed with people. Fourth of July decorations covered each of the wooden benches and they led all the way back to the barn. Red, white and blue covered nearly every inch of the property between the two areas. “I didn’t realize you were so patriotic…”

“And why wouldn’t I be?” Steven pulled John even tighter into the hug. “C’mon. Let me show you something.” He kept walking through the party, waving at some of his friends. Each one looked to be just as big and strong as he was. Their sleeveless shirts showed off their muscular arms and shoulders, while their jeans almost looked glued to their legs. There were a couple of bigger bulkier guys, but none of them really looked fat. Just that they had a bit more weight than a couple of the other guys.

Of course, none of these guys looked like anyone John would be friends with. Each one had a woman around their arm and a beer in their hand. But it was more of the overly confident and outgoing attitude that really made John happy to have someone like Steven draped around him. John was never good with parties and this was one where he knew his wallflower status would make it near impossible to get along with anyone. Every one of these guys looked like they were ready to shoot off fireworks or guns just for the fun of it while John would have rather stayed home.

Steven led John to the big red barn on the rear of his yard. A massive flag draped from the loft. “This way,” Steven said, ushering John inside the barn. There was a grill on the inside with someone watching it. “I got Jack. You go an’ have a bit of fun.”

Jack got up and tipped his hat. “Have fun.” Then took his exit.

“Uhhhh---” John felt something off the way he said it. Or maybe it was the sly smirk.

Steven just jumped in. “Don’t go worryin’ about him. Look at this!” He turned back to the rest of the barn to show off the cows and horses in their pins. Each one looked to be absolutely massive. John had only seen a couple of horses in a zoo before and cows on the side of the road. He’d always figured they were fairly large. Most likely coming up to his head if he were to stand next to them. But these animals were massive. Each one looked like they stood almost a foot taller than him. And the horses somehow looked even bigger. “Pretty awesome! RIGHT!”

“Right…” John nodded. He suddenly felt absolutely miniscule next to the animals. He was wondering how anyone could possibly even ride the horses. They looked almost the size of a moose. And that was the smaller ones. “Are they supposed to be this big?”

“Hell no!” Steven laughed giving one of the heifers a slap to the rear. “It’s just standard good ole American freedom!”

“Don’t think that’s it…” John stared. “Unless you’re injecting freedom directly into their veins.”

Steven laughed again, pulling John back into a hug, but from behind this time. His chin brushed up against John’s neck and he could feel the prickles of Steven’s beard brush up against it. “That’s why I always liked ya. Always got a joke ready.” John suddenly felt uncomfortable. The closeness between the two wasn’t like this. And even more the way he said it just didn’t sound right. It was almost sensual. But before John could react, he felt a strong hand slap his butt. “C’mon bud. You gotta try some. Best you’ll ever had.”

“I’ve—I’ve had some pretty good steaks,” John said.

“Maybe…” Steven turned around. “But every guy who tries my meat always comes back.” Then adjusted his jeans as he turned back towards the grill. “I’d done made you a special steak and it should be done.”

John was starting to feel a bit apprehensive about the whole thing. He may not have known Steven all that well, but he never knew a guy like this. “Maybe—”

“C’mon buddy. Ya gotta at least try it,” Steven said as he pulled it off the grill and shook it around. “Don’t even need ketchup.” John’s stomach grumbled loud enough for Steven to hear. The smell of all the meat was really getting to him and he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

‘Just eat the steak and leave,’ John told himself. He let out a heavy breath. “Alright…”

“PERFECTO!” Steven said. The drawl in his voice made the Spanish word sound even more ridiculous. He slopped the steak on a plate, pulled out a plastic fork and knife, then plopped himself down across from the plate. “Bet you never had a steak you could cut that easily with some cheap piece of shit.”

“No… Can’t say that I have,” John said as he sat down. He picked up the plastic knife and fork and cut into it. The meat almost looked like it separated by itself.

“Pretty good! Pretty-Pretty good!” Steven cheered. His eyes wouldn’t leave John for an instant. Like an awaiting chef eagerly awaiting a 5 star review, Steven stared as John picked up a piece he cut off and took a bite.

John’s eyes went wide. “Woah!” he let out without even thinking. “It is good!” The meat was cooked to perfection. Not too bloody, not too dry. Then there were all sorts of seasonings that cooked all the way through making the bite only taste better the longer he chewed. But one of them really stood out. Almost a bit like a salty flavor, but not quite. John just couldn’t place it.

“Told you,” Steven beamed. He watched patiently as John continued to devour the rest of the meat. The knife was only feeling more like a hassle as he dug into it. “Do you want some more?”

“Would I!?” John didn’t mean to sound so excited about it. Even after finishing the steak, somehow he still felt a bit hungry. But the flavor still sat in his mouth, making it all he could think about. “I mean…”

“Don’t worry about it bud,” Steven already had a second plate and sat down again. His eyes watched even more intently. “That’s the best complement you could give me.”

John let out a bit of a laugh as he continued to eat the steak with his fork. Pieces just fell off like it was nothing. But he loved every minute of it. Before he realized it the steak was gone and another was put in its place. Now the fork was feeling unnecessary as he picked it up and just shoved it into his mouth. “Holy shit…” he moaned through bites of the meat. He could feel his belt getting tight around his waist as he dug into the third. “Ohmygawd… This is the best damn steak I’ve ever done had,” John added with his mouth completely full.

Steven smiled.

“Eh? What’s crawled up yer craw?” John asked. “The hell?” The drawl in his voice continued, only growing more pronounced as he kept talking. He could feel a deep scratch in his throat as his neck grew wider. “You’d done an done somethin to the steak. Aint’cha?” John gripped the table. Suddenly he was getting really hot. July was always one of the hottest months, but this was different. It was a deep internal heat that seemed to radiate out of him. He could feel it all the way down into his soul. Sweat started to drip from his brow. Stains quickly grew under his armpits and down the front and back of his shirt.

“Don’t go an get worried,” Steven held his hands up. “I made them steaks special for ya. I just didn’t expect ya to eat three. Though I ain’t complainin’.” The smile on his face only broadened as he spoke.

“The Hell you go an’ do?” John forced out. It was quickly followed by a grunt as his hands gripped the table. Thick veins bulged out of the back of his hand like a thick lattice of vines. They pumped up, running all the way up his arm and then through the rest of his body. John’s breathing grew labored as he tried to focus on anything other that the rush running through him. It wasn’t anger or fear, but he could feel something. His muscles burned. More and more blood pumped faster through his body. Each pulse only seemed to make him grow a bit larger.

Suddenly Steven’s body draped over his. A cooling sensation ran over any place that Steven’s hands touched. His strong voice spoke calmly yet firmly. “It’s okay. You’ll feel great in a second.” His hands drifted down to the button of his pants and undid it.

“What’s—” John tried to speak but found the words stuck in his throat as those calloused hands touched his dick. “Sh-sh-shit!” he leaned back into Steven’s body. But was more surprised as to just how much was being touched. His somewhat below average dick suddenly felt unbelievably big in the other man’s hands. All the more surprising as the understanding of just how big Steven’s hands were. The 6’3” man could easily wrangle a horse or a cow, yet he tugged with the perfect amount of force. A deep sensual moan rolled out of John’s body as he leaned more and more into Steven’s.

Pleasure instantly took over the confusion or pain. It didn’t matter that his bones were rapidly stretching. Each one growing longer and thicker to help support his growing frame. Every bit of him was expanding outward as more and more weight was built into him. But even with his growing size, John’s body wasn’t looking thin or malnourished. Muscle rapidly added onto his frame. Massive biceps filled the front of his arm. A thick vein ran down the front.

He naturally flexed making it grow from a baseball sized, to a football size, then to a full on melon sized muscle. The triceps was quick to follow as the horseshoe muscle grew more defined and larger. His shoulders ballooned out from his sides. Almost like they were inflating like a balloon into massive cannonball sized shoulders. It was so quick that his sleeves tore off from his shirt.

Not that the weak piece of fabric stood much of a chance. His chest barreled out in front of him as two thick pecs grew out of his chest. The muscles rounded and firmed up as thick nipples punctuated their size. He barely even noticed as his smell belly tightened up into firm abs that would be impossible to miss. Each of those muscles looked like perfect little buns stacked on top of each other.

John was pressing more and more of his body against Steven’s. His arousal only grew the more he was being touched. He leaned into the touching, kissing back at Steven’s masculine neck and jawline. “Getting frisky?” Steven mocked. His hands were working a bit faster as he kissed the other man back. He could feel the constant throbbing of John’s cock with each stroke. The tension only growing the longer he did so.

Before he realized it, John had spun around on the bench and nearly toppled over onto him. At 5’8” and 145 pounds, John didn’t stand a chance against Steven. But now he was easily passing 6’4” and well over 230. With all that extra weight on him he could easily knock someone Steven’s size over. Yet, Steven stood firm easily pushing him back down.

“Huh-uh,” Steven scolded. “That’s not how we do it.” He grabbed John by the shoulder and pressed him down. Even though John’s legs had grown larger than a bodybuilder would have dreamed of, Steven easily pressed him to his knees. “This is what you want after all.” He undid his own pants and let his dick fly free. The massive rod swung back and forth, but John was quick to catch it in his mouth.

‘The taste!’ John’s eyes fluttered as he suckled on the hard rod. He could feel that salty taste fill his mouth again. Licking and lapping it up like a professional despite this being the very first time he’d ever had one in his mouth.

“That’s a good boy,” Steven praised. His hand gripped the back of John’s head, leading him into a more pleasurable experience for the both of them. “You’re probably going to be my biggest. Never had one eat as much as you. Not that I’d be complainin. Just happy cause you’ll be mine.” The thought sent a shiver down his spine as he realized that John was still growing. The man had to be 6’8” and nearly double his size. But he knew the man would be as submissive as they come. Suddenly he released in John’s mouth.

John greedily swallowed every bit of it. He’d already made several messes on the hay covered ground. And with a cock that resembled something far closer in size to a horse than any human and balls that would have made a bull almost feel like it needed to compensate, Steven knew he had a good one.

“Well! I’ll be!” John stood back up. He towered over the other man, easily standing 6’10” with a bodybuilder’s frame. Every muscle on him bulged with power and strength. Thick veins ran through his entire body as blood needed to flow to keep those muscles strong. His clothes were in tatters on the floor as were the remnants of his shoes. “You treat all yer boys that good?”

“Only the ones I like,” Steven said. He wasn’t sure how he was going to get John something to wear. Or more how to get him back to the house. With his size, he’d have to hide behind the entire barn. Not that Steven was complaining. This was always the hard part. Getting them was easy. Just get one of the guys alone and then feed them a bit of his meat with a little something extra and they’d do just about anything he said. However, he could feel John getting frisky again. His massive hands were running down Steven’s body and his cock was hard as a rock.

“Guess I’m one of ‘em?”

“Course you are! You’re my prima all American beef!” Steven jumped up for a kiss.

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

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[writethelifeyouwant]

Make Him Look - Ch 1 / 2

Pairing: Cordell Walker x Reader Rating: 18+ Tags: flirting, many many drinks, jealousy, dancing, slow burn Word Count: 3k Created for: @walker-bingo - In Vino Veritas | @anyfandomgoesbingo - Jealousy A/N: Written with the lovely @thinkinghardhardlythinking in mind ❤️and y'all can also blame her for the fact it got so long I split it into two 😂

Cordell swings his leg over a barstool and settles into his usual spot. The bar is busy but not crowded. There’s a few more empty stools awaiting occupants for the night, and Cordell hooks one with his foot and draws it closer, popping his hat down to save the seat for Liam, who’s on his way. But there’s no reason to wait for Liam before he orders – they get the same thing every time.

“Barkeep! Can I get some queso, hot wings, and whatever Pinthouse you’ve got on draft?”

“Sure thing, man,” the kid behind the bar drawls, his accent thick and voice lazy. Cordell would bet anything the guy had had a joint on his break earlier, but he’s off duty – tonight is not about busting people for drugs, tonight is about letting loose. He checks his phone to see if Liam had texted him that he’d left the office yet, but there is nothing there. Taking a sip of the drink that has just been plopped on a coaster in front of him, Cordell scans the room. It’s a bad habit that every law enforcement worker he’s ever met has developed. Even when he’s trying to relax and blow off some steam, he can’t help being a little vigilant.

He takes in the tableaus around him; the groups of kids from the local community college, the gaggle of mid to late aged men in awful polos that Cordell recognises as the inner city bowling league, a couple of less savoury looking guys playing pool, the cluster of women those guys keep eyeing up – he’ll keep an eye on that one.

Checking his phone again and taking another drink, he still hasn’t heard anything from Liam. He opens his brother’s contact and is about to give him a call to tell him to get his ass in gear when someone suddenly reaches down beside him, picks up his hat and drops it back on his head while they slide into the seat he’d been saving - except it’s not Liam.

“Hey you,” the stranger says familiarly, bumping her shoulder against his. “Thanks for saving me a seat.”

You shrug out of your jacket and sling it over your arm as you head up to the worn wood counter of the bar. You don’t see your friend yet, so you decide to go ahead and order a drink while you wait for her to show. She’s always late, you should have just assumed and shown up fifteen minutes from now. You play on your phone as you wait for the bartender to finish serving the gang of people at the other end of the bar. When you feel someone in front of you, you look up, about to order a glass of wine, except one is already being placed on the bar top in front of you.

You stare questioningly at the kid serving you the drink. You’d been here before, sure, but you’re hardly a regular, and even if you were you don’t recognise this server – so why does he know what you were about to order?

“Um, I didn’t–” you start but the kid interrupts you.

“From the gentleman at the end of the bar, milady,” he gave a geeky little bow, “Sorry, he told me to say it like that,” he grimaces at himself. You chance a fleeting look back to the group you’d noticed him serving a few minutes ago and to your horror, you recognise your ex, Dirk, grinning back at you. He tips the brim of his ball cap and gives you a wink, like he’s expecting you to be impressed that he remembers you drink red wine. Shit, this is not how this night is supposed to go. You’re supposed to be here to get drunk with your best friend and have a bit of a dance, not be looking over your shoulder the whole night hoping that jerk leaves you alone.

Panicking a little now, you check your phone but there’s no text from Lea telling you when to expect her. Knowing her like you do, you would bet anything she won’t be here soon, and you don’t want to wait on your own and risk Dirk coming to talk to you. Desperately, you scan your eyes around the bar, cataloguing your options and escape routes. Someone catches your eye a few seats along from where you are. Tall, broad – dark and handsome, your mind supplies unhelpfully – but what really catches your eye is the badge hanging from his belt. He’s a Ranger.

Normally, you’d pick a group of girls who you know would happily pretend to know you so you don’t have to wait alone but you know Dirk, and you know he won’t be shy enough to let any number of girls stop him from coming to ruin your night. But a guy - and a Texas Ranger at that – Dirk wouldn’t dare. He had an outstanding DUI, and he’d always been a bit of a chicken around cops anyways.

Choice made, you grab the wine he’d bought you – hey, you’re not made of money, free booze is free booze – and you march purposefully over to the Ranger, who’s checking his phone and not paying attention until you grab his black cowboy hat off the chair next to him. Clearly he had been saving it for someone, and you want Dirk to think that someone is you.

“Hey you,” you chirp, placing his hat back on his head as you slide into the seat he’d been saving, “Thanks for saving me a seat.” You smile at the Ranger long enough to see him looking at you completely perplexed before you glance back to Dirk and see him watching you with a scowl. You let yourself feel inwardly triumphant and turn back to the man you’d just decided to befriend, if only temporarily.

Swivelling back towards him, you let yourself get a good look at his face for the first time. His bright hazel eyes are staring back at you, confused but not unkind. Tall, dark, and handsome is definitely apt, and now you’re seeing him properly you’re a bit speechless. You hadn’t counted on him being this freakin’ attractive.

“Sorry,” you finally manage to choke out under your breath. “I’ll leave you alone soon, I promise, I’m just hiding from my ex,” you explain, and understanding melts across the man’s face.

“Anything I can do to help?” he asks sympathetically.

“Just pretend like you know me until my friend gets here?” you propose hopefully.

“Happy to,” he smiles, grabbing his drink and holding it out to clink against your wine glass. You tap your glass against his, relief flooding your body as you settle onto your stool a little more comfortably.

“Thank you…” you trail off leadingly, hoping he’ll fill in his name.

“Cordell,” he supplies.

“Now there is a Texan name if I ever heard one,” you giggle.

“If you’re gonna laugh at my name do I at least get the chance to laugh at yours too?” he grins jokingly.

“Y/N,” you give him your name, tucking your hair behind your ear and taking a sip of your wine.

“Well that’s no fun, how can I tease you for such a pretty name?” Cordell takes a sip of his own drink, mirroring you. Jeez, this one is a smooth talker.

-

When you finish your glass of wine, probably a little quicker than normal due to your anxious state, you check your phone again and see a missed call from Lea. “Crap,” you sigh, drawing a concerned look from Cordell, who is happily munching away on some chips and queso next to you.

“Everything okay?” He asks, muffled, mouth still full of food.

“Yeah, s’just my friend bailing on me,” you gripe, listening to the voicemail she’d left on your phone a few minutes ago. “Sorry I gate crashed your night for nothing,” you apologise, popping your phone back in your bag and planning on just going home to turn in early and watch some junky tv show in bed now that your ‘girls night’ wasn’t happening.

“Hey, you aren’t gate crashing.” Cordell shrugs, like he’s hedging his bets with his next statement. “I’ve had a good time so far.” His smile is shy and sincere, and you soften just a little in your annoyance at the world.

“I totally am though, you were clearly waiting for someone,” you gesture to the stool you’d taken up residence on.

“Just my work-a-holic brother, who, as luck would have it–” Cordell pulls his phone from his pocket and holds it up to show the message on the lock screen “–also pulled out on me.”

“Oh,” you blink, not sure what to make of that. It sounds like he’s asking you to stay but… “Well, thank you for being my knight in shining armour for a bit, seriously, but I don’t really want to stick around just to have my ex looking at me all night.”

“Well, if he’s gonna be a creep and keep watching you all night, we could make that fun, give him something to watch,” Cordell offers, his smirk incongruous with the almost hopeful expression in his eyes.

“What?” You’re perplexed.

“I mean, I don’t know what happened between you, but it’s pretty obvious to me that he wants you back, and you seem pretty pissed at him for that. I’m guessing the bastard cheated on you?” You huff in response, a little bitter that he’d read the situation so easily.

“Yeah, he did,” you admit, slumping against the bar, feeling downtrodden at the memory.

“So don’t let him chase you off,” Cordell shrugs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “He messed you around – you tellin’ me you wouldn’t like to mess with him right back?” he raises an eyebrow in temptation, a knowing smirk twitching at his lips.

“And you’re proposing that instead of not wanting him to look at me all night–”

“You make him look,” Cordell finishes your sentence for you. “We’ve already pretended to know each other for the past–” he checks his watch “–twenty minutes. May as well just do the whole pretend date.” Cordell looks at you with so much honesty, you believe that he really does just want to help you screw with Dirk. And you cannot say the idea isn’t appealing.

“Alright,” you concede, shaking your head slightly in disbelief that you’re actually agreeing to this, and Cordell’s face splits into a wide smile. Honestly, seeing that expression alone made agreeing to this worth it. “So, if we’re on a pretend date, you gonna pretend to buy me another drink?”

“No,” you insist, shaking your head vehemently.

“C’mon,” Cordell chides, grinning madly.

“I did not agree to this,” you shake your head, finishing off the last bit of wine in your glass.

“Come on,” he urges again, leaning against the bar and tilting his head close to yours pleadingly.

“I am not dancing,” you repeat, wholeheartedly meaning it. You think if you have to come into genuine skin to skin contact with Cordell, you might actually melt into a puddle. Now three glasses of wine into your fake date, you can feel yourself loosening up and really enjoying yourself with this handsome stranger. He’s kind, and funny, and a little weird but in a charming way – exactly your type. And him begging you to dance with him wasn’t helping your self-restraint. This is a fake date, you keep reminding yourself firmly every time he flashes you that little half smile that makes his eyes light up.

“Well, I don’t know what kind of boring fake dates you usually go on, but mine aren’t complete unless I get to show off my two-step and knock back a tequila shot.”

“Oh, we’re doing tequila now, are we?” You laugh – this guy is actually ridiculous, and you kind of love it.

“That wasn’t a no,” he jumps on your ‘non denial’ and waves at the kid behind the bar. “Two tequilas, two limes?” he holds up two fingers and the bartender nods to him, quickly pouring out the shots and dropping two lime wedges onto a plate. Cordell grabs a salt shaker from the condiments rack on the bar and sets everything up between you. You let him work, watching incredulously but enjoying the show nonetheless.

“Give me your hand,” he holds out his own hand expectantly once he’s arranged all the pieces to his liking.

“Why?” your voice is nervous but your hand reaches out instantly of its own accord. Without answering he proceeds to rub the edge of the lime over the inside of your wrist, then puts the lime in your fingers and shakes some salt over the trail of juice he left behind. He does the same thing to himself, then passes you your shot, which you take in your lime-free hand.

“Right, you wanna do this the normal way or the ‘make Dirk jealous way’?” Cordell asks with a smirk once he’s oriented himself.

“I’m gonna regret asking this, but what’s the ‘make Dirk jealous’ way?” you groan exaggeratedly, like he’s put some great burden on you, but the truth is you’re really enjoying yourself.

“Like this,” Cordell steps up to you and links your right arms together. Catching his drift you smile and try to hold back the snort of laughter that bubbles up inside you – a nervous reaction to feeling the warmth of his body against yours, even through the layer of his shirt. “One, two, three,” he counts off and you go to lick the salt off your wrist except that’s what Cordell is doing. You freeze momentarily, heat shooting up your arm from where his tongue and lips are laving over your skin. You don’t think to move until Cordell puts his own wrist against your lips and you lick obediently.

Your linked arms pull you closer together as Cordell lifts the tequila to his lips and you follow suit in a kind of trance, both knocking back your shots. The tequila hits you harder than you remember it ever doing before, and you scrunch up your face, disoriented for a moment until you once again feel Cordell’s lips on your skin. This time they’re wrapping around your finger tips as he sucks the lime into his mouth. You stand frozen, the burn in your mouth and your fingers meeting in your chest and ratcheting up your heart rate as if you’re trying to run away from the oncoming flames. But it’s hopeless, you’re stuck in the blaze now.

“You want your lime, darlin’?” Cordell laughs at your stock still frame and holds his fingers to your lips, gently pressing the fruit inside and urging you to suck. You’re sure you must have physically combusted into fire by now, but Cordell isn’t jumping away like he’s been singed – he’s pressing closer. “Dance with me,” he rasps, voice hoarse from the burn of the alcohol. It’s not a request anymore, it’s an order, and you don’t question it.

Drawing his hand down the arm of yours linked with his until your fingers lace together, he pulls you away from the bar and out onto the dance floor. It’s an upbeat country song, the kind you’d normally jump around to, but he pulls you in and wraps an arm around your waist like a proper partner dance calls for – except he’s ignored the social convention of leaving room for Jesus. He pulls you after him in tiny circles and you let him lead happily. When the song changes to something a little slower he pulls you just a little tighter, and you can’t stop yourself from moving your gaze off his shoulder up to his face.

His eyes dart over your shoulder, then smile down at you wryly, and you feel yourself blush. “He’s watching,” Cordell grins mischievously. You go to look but he puts a hand on your neck and holds you still, keeping your eyes on him. His fingers are strong and warm against your collarbone, ironically causing you to shiver. “No, don’t look at him,” his voice is low as he leans in conspiratorially, “you wanna make him look, remember?”

“Why are you helping me?” The alcohol swimming through your veins is making you comfortable and fuzzy, and you let yourself lean against him familiarly, your head resting against his chest as he continues to move you both around the dance floor. You feel him shrug as his grips on your hand and the nape of your neck tighten a little.

“The truth?” he asks. You can hear the nerves in his voice, even if you can’t see them on his face.

“No, I want you to lie to me, please,” your voice manages to stay serious through the end of the joke before you burst into giggles, and you feel your laughter move into his body and trigger his own, making his chest rise and fall unevenly beneath your cheek.

“You are one hell of a gal, you know that?” You’re glad your face is buried in his chest so he can’t see just how brightly you smile at the compliment. “Truth is, I’ve been trying to get you drunk and have my wicked way with you.” You can tell by how expressionless his voice has gone that he’s winding you up, but you pull back and slap your hand to your chest in mock horror.

“Well Cordell Walker, I have never met such a rogue in my life,” you gasp in your best Scarlet O’Hara accent. It’s not a good one. Neither of you can keep a straight face for more than a few seconds, and you both double over in laughter after your minuscule standoff.

As your laughter dies down, Cordell grabs your hands again and pulls you back to him, swaying entirely out of time to the song that’s playing. He looks like he’s about to say something but the words haven’t quite found their way to his tongue, and when you catch his eyes you suddenly don’t want to hear what he has to say and you pull away from him. He looks at you, puzzled and just the slightest bit hurt as you try to find some cover for your sudden movement.

“You wouldn’t happen to be a bourbon fan, would you?”

Part 2 Here!

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