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iplayghoul · 2 months

Text

let the light in

xx: cowboys! eren & onyankopon x reader . .

9.9k words — life on a ranch, porn with plot, tension, feelings, eventual sex, fucking in.. mud & rain, reader is referred to as 'she', 'girlie' etc, use of 'daddy', lots of spit & being dirty, reader is a country bumpkin, light arguing, thumb in ass, pussy spanking, spitroasting, cunnilingus, crying, some squirting & creaming, lots of shortened words & punctuation (country dialect duhh), not proof read sorry, awkward moments.

notes: been writin dis since december 2023... enjoy u guys :] rbgs appreciated

“hiya mrs. brown!”

worn out boots of marble cake pink and brown swirls, graze the dirtied gravel near the elderly woman's cottage as you slip from the horse. mary-lou, you affectionately call her, dusting her pinked moist nose with a pat before hobbling onto the stone path. over the horizon, the pastel orange and yellows of the sun threaten to melt into your skin, kissing it golden as the morning begins and so do your deliveries.

golden-blonde, french curl braids woven into your roots fall past your lower back ending in thick, loose curls, some held together by bows and others hair clips. they bounced with every step. mrs. brown was the first on your list of deliveries today. on cool mornings like this when spring teases its approach, you often bake little treats for the other villagers. apple tarts, blueberry jellies, cherry pies with freshly picked fruits, warm buttery honey-milk breads and healthy breakfast muffins: all made with ingredients grown at home! but, we'll explore the garden later.

calling this a village was a bit of a stretch, realistically, a happy delusion at most. acres of farm property was shared by each of the residents whose homes were nearby, despite the farm areas creating distances of land behind them. tok, tok, tok! the haste below mary-lou's hooves pulled you back to your task as you rearranged the goodies and stepped onto the wooden plank. mrs. brown sat atop her rocking chair, crocheting a blanket you'd commissioned. a chuckle, “ [ ] , dearest, always in y’head, aren't yuh?” mrs. brown softly muttered, deep brown skin crumpled besides her lips, short pastel curls tickling her ears. hands busied with the neapolitan coloured yarn. her countryside twang was a pleasant aerated tone, reminding you of your own parents.

you huff and offer a smile. “mrs. brown I've—”, “must I remind you, dearest, eleonora,” the playfulness in her voice offers it a quiver. “and let me guess . . . cherry pie?” thin, quivering lips stretch to a smile, your plump ones mimic hers as you nod with a sweetened expression. “yes, eleonora, I know how much y’love cherry pies n’–”, “and my grandson does too, y'know!” you stop to stare at her as she wears nothing but a smug look on her face, her head bobbing side to side with a ‘you know damn well’ manner.

eleonora lived mostly alone. when her daughter married, giving her a sole grandson they'd moved to the city. luckily for her, and you, her grandson moved back on his own to the country. he fixed cars, motorcycles, tractors– you name it, he's got it covered. she said his name was onyankopon or, ony’. to be honest, you spied around one time to catch a glimpse of him. back when you first moved in and eleonora became immediately smitten with the idea of you and her grandson as potential lovers, you snuck around where ony's ranch was, peaking at who the man could be. you barely saw him really, the small flash of him you saw all greasy with engine oil was so far away! but infatuation always grew in you from a small bud, slowly growing before flower petals started spilling out your throat.

“are ya’ stoppin by him too, darlin’?” she pries further, “I ‘dunno els’ . . . y'know I haven't actually met ‘em right?”, “oh I know dear,'' she breathes, “ he's strong, he's tall, he surely is handy ‘round the house and- and he's not ‘onna dem toxic masculine things i hear ‘bout on the Internet! I think he's had a boyfrien’ b'fore, that must count!” she relieves your hands of the heavy treats while speaking, “eleonora . . .”, “c'mon darlin’, you've got t'get married someday, n’ imma’ be the flower gal!”

all you can do is shake your head and accept the sweet kiss to the cheek she offers you before trotting back to your horse. mary-lou grew rather impatient! settling her brown and white spotted body to the ground awaiting your return. to be completely honest, you craved love. the partying, sex and relationships of college got old and moving here right after left you high and dry with the weight of ‘unlovable’ bearing down on your shoulders. the lack of men your age was . . . a troublesome dilemma but who were you to complain? you hiked yourself back onto mary-lou and continued your journey to the next cottage home.

looking over the blueberry skies and whipped cream clouds kept you in grandiose delusions of a love so pure and sweet, like powdered sugar that you could indulge in, maybe one day.

♡

“down girl, down!”

The rough, deep voice shakes the silence near the upcoming ranch. after your deliveries, you'd end up with a few apple-cherry tarts remaining, sometimes the neighbours are vacationing in the city, or insist you keep some! by this time, the sun shone fully now, its warmth tingling your skin. “awe, shucks, man!” another voice caused your brows to furrow, peering up ahead at the ranch . . . the one in which eleonora's grandson resided. from what you could see without the sun in your eyes, two men of tall statures– roughhousing with gorgeous horses. the one in the cowboy's hat was doing a terrible job of trying to calm one of them. their manes were a beautiful silky white, shining healthily under the sun as they lifted their front legs to the air before trotting around the . . . shirtless men again. mother would scold you now if she could see you openly ogling at the two, you push that thought to the back of your mind.

mary-lou slows on your command beside their ranch gate, huffing and happily shaking out her mane as she watches the other horses play. something possesses you to hop off with the remaining tarts, awkwardly shuffling to the fence– your pink-brown boots were worn mismatched to your strapless white lace top and similar mini-skirt. “uh . . . howdy there fellas!” both men turned to your direction, blocking their eyes from the sun and beginning to stroll over.

the closer view made your breath catch in your throat. the one on the left, you assume is el's grandson, his skin was a dark mahogany brown, he glistened slightly with sweat in the sun, deeply defined muscles prelude veins below his belly button then covered by bright blue jeans and black cowboy boots to match his hat.

he had a handsome face.

thick two-toned lips spread to reveal a bright smile, a few teeth plated with gold caps as he teased the man to his right. this man had dark, black, shining curls that rested atop his shoulders, two eyebrow slits decorated with piercings, matching ones on his . . . pretty lips. his skin was a dusted tan, sunkissed tone and he wore black jeans atop his brown boots. You couldn't miss the tattoos that crept up the side of his abdominals, you were curious.

“how c'n we help ya’, miss?” the left spoke up and your cheeks felt hot, it's been a while since you heard that pet name, you chalked it up to the blazing sun. “well, uh, you're eleonora's grandson, right?” you nibble on your nails nervously, he nods, “I just . . . thought it’d be nice to give y'all these extra treats i baked.” pushing the basket in their direction and allowing the dark haired one to peep under the cloth, he had a mischievous look to him and he elbowed the other in the ribs with a slick smile, “wass ya’ name, pretty? ‘m eren, dis is ony’,” he pointed between them, “ n’ y’made these y’self, ma’?” eren pulls out a tart, staring down at you through long eyelashes, “oh! uh I‘m [ ], n’ yes! I did n' I grew all'em fruits m'self too!” you bounce on the heels of your boots, nervously.

ony’ stays mostly quiet you've noticed, taking in your outfit as well, his eyes raking over you. eren warmly feeds him a bite of the tart as their horses trot over to mingle with mary-lou. “how long ya’ been livin’ ‘round here, sugar?” ony’ speaks up soft and mellow, grabbing himself his own tart to taste. eren reaches out to pet mary-lou. “i guess it’s been a about a year now! y’see i moved out ‘round here after college.” you nibbled your shiney bottom lip, “what ‘bout y’all? your grandma talks ‘bout you all the time, but, i ain’t really seen you round here?” you turn to eren who makes a kissy face at mary-lou before turning to you. “i mostly tend to the farm ma’, as y’can tell, ‘m better with the animals than ony’ here.” he flashes you a smile and props his arms against the fence biting his lip and lowering closer to your eye level. ony’ playfully smacks his arm, flashing a gorgeous smile with his gold teeth sparkling in the sun, “shut up, man.”

you look away quickly, catching yourself staring at his lips, he certainly doesn't miss it. you totally push the basket towards eren’s arms, “y’c’n have the basket y’know i always weave more, i’ve gotta get goin, now,” you rush, “wait– take m’ number, pretty,” eren offers before reciting it a couple times so you’ve got it down. “n’ which onna’ these ranches ‘s yours, mama?”, you're mounting mary-lou once more, “it's not too far! it's the ranch with the blue fence n’ the pond out front!”

♡

the days after that remained uneventful, with no deliveries of any kind, you preferred to remain on the ranch tending to the animals and house work. you'd never texted eren, only saved his number and stalked his contact profile . . . and opened his chat section many-a-times without saying anything. taking a liking to someone new is hard. you don't forget the many times a partner toyed with you, assuming innocence and naivity of you based soley off your appearance, then doing whatever they'd wanted behind your back. you were past that now, hopefully at least; the concrete walls you used to block others out wasn't something you'd liked to be reminded of.

padding out the back door, the coldness of the stone path chills beneath your bare feet. your toes painted with the cutest design within your artistic range, accompanied by the musical arrangement of your anklet. you pick up a dirtied bucket with the many things you'd needed to complete your chores for the morning, taking a long look at the expanse of the ranch.

a deep breath of clean air, healthy green fields relieve your eyes of their stress; partly cloudy skies was the forecast! weather for hanging outside, the cumulus clouds indicated it to be the perfect day for fishing too! the pond was still, the little lambs were just waking up in their pen, the gardenias were blooming; the white dexter cattle mulled around, seemingly bored behind the fence. just as you begin to walk by with the bucket of feed, the cows behind let out soft, deep ‘mooooo’s’: a ‘good morning!’ greeting in their own way. each receiving gentle pets to their fur.

your mental list of duties was shorter today: pet the cattle, inspect the lambs & brush their fur, throw feed for the chickens & clean their coupes, feed the dogs, feed the fish.

you couldn't help but wear your best little dress to do the tasks today, a simple white thing that cupped your breasts just right. “oh, how are ya’ buttercup!” you squealed in delight as the silky white wolf dog rushed up to lick your feet, his opposite onyx counterpart, bentley offered a short bark to show her delight, sitting peacefully and obediently. she'd recently fallen pregnant with pups, confusing as you'd given both animals the proper precautionary procedures! while filling their food bowls, you couldn't help but be reminded of eren and ony’. your toes dug into the grass a bit, excited at the idea of . . . sharing your home with someone else again. both men seemed pleasant, highly attractive, but feelings always confused you. perhaps they were only being decent human beings to you, nothing more.

to be honest, you hadn't had the best history with relationships. it's part of– it's one of the main reasons you'd decided to move out to the countryside. casual sex was fine, yeah, whatever, you enjoyed it. however, when it comes to your relationships, you refuse to believe you attract shitty people. from making fun of how excited your are by things, to the way you dressed, wore your makeup, your hair, how you cry— the whole works had been used against you. there was only so much of it you could handle. moving away meant . . . fresh start, new people, new experiences. and most importantly, a place where everyone did as they pleased. as much as people think gossip goes around in small villages, the country area was mostly pleasant. neighbours traded crops for items, enjoyed each other's company and minded their own business.

sitting beside the pond, bentley and buttercup eagerly cuddled up at your side; the joy this life brought you was comparable to hot chocolate at the end of a winter day. now you think about how long its been since you could cuddle someone on a cold day. it probably hasn't been since your mother was alive. now was a good time to visit eleonora.

♡

a raspberry lemon loaf warmed your hands as the weather began to cool. the trudge to eleonora's ranch was tranquil, pleasant animals, butterflies and chirping birds kept you occupied for most of it. that is, until your boots dragged to a stop in the dirt, noticing a familiar face in el's front yard.

onyankopon's hair was short, brushed into smooth waves atop his head and faded on the sides, revealed by the lack of cowboy hat. he was shirtless, once again, knee deep in the dirt of his grandmother's yard where he dug the soil for new plants. you swallow, nibbling a plump lip that made your mouth spring from the strawberry flavoured gloss. a colder breeze blew up under your thighs, blowing your simple little dress slightly; furrowing your brows with concern as you peered at the beautiful bright sky, you force yourself to walk up to the gate and begin to unlatch it.

eren's grassy green eyes meet you first, his hands busily feeding a plump cherry into his mouth. pretty pink lips sucked them in, unwelcoming to the juicy red droplets that escaped the cherry. he licks his lips to pull them in. you take a deep breath and focus on not dropping the raspberry lemon loaf. “h-hiya everybody!” you greet, noticing eleonora seated in her usual spot on the rocking chair of her porch while observing the two men.

you hold the loaf somewhat close to you and swallow hard, walking along the stone path of which both men were at either side of. ony’ in the dirt and eren manspreading on the front steps. you held eyes with the ground. “howdy ony’, eren, nice to see you two ‘gain,” you say in a pleasant mumble as you make way up the stairs to eleonora. “brought you this raspberry lemon loaf els’!” you look at her smiling slightly, caught off guard by that signature smug look she held. what insane thoughts about your love life could she be brewing now? the silence from the two men was noticeable too, you were sure they'd turn to look at you as you presented the treat for el’, “my, my! well doesn't this just look lovely!” she claps clammy hands clad in flower themed rings and laughs jolly. “ony’, son, could you get us some tissues n’ forks? oh- n’ eren darlin’ why don't you bring out the pitcher ‘f lemonade with s'm glasses.” the two men stand as she calls upon them, uttering out their deep ‘yes ma'am's’ as they towered above you in walking by. your eyes trailed them slightly before turning back to eleonora who never (not once) misses your silent pining.

ony’ wore his jeans low on his waist, the band of his boxers showed off its maker's name. eren, on the other hand, wore a white wife-beater below unbuckled blue overalls, leaving them hanging over at his waist. “so, have ya’ found y'self a boyfren’, honey?” eleanora asks somewhat loudly as the two men shuffle around the kitchen bearby and your eye widen. “now what kinda’ question is that els’?” you sputtered, “you know I haven't got one.” eleonora giggles like a school girl. you take a cool seat onto the steps. eren and ony’ share small smiles as they return with lemonade and dishes. ony’ takes a seat in a chair opposite eleonora, elevated above you whilst eren makes himself comfortable back in his spot across from you on the steps. raspberry lemon loaf is shared around with the cool glasses of not-too-sweet lemonade to wash it down, eating brought silence besides low groans from the two men who seemed to enjoy your baking. their groans were not sensual, but pressing your thighs together was still a must as a reaction to the unexpected sounds of pleasure. fuck, you felt like a creep. eleonora complimented your skills, asking, “[ ] , did ya’ grow these in the box gardens y'made?” you nod and swallow quickly, all attention to you as eren mumbles ‘box garden?'. ``yea els’, the box gardens ar’ doin’ great, but I've got some extra wood around I think I'mma try to make a few more like the boxes I bought from the market!” eleonora smiles as if she were expecting to hear you randomly bring up your recycling duties.

“ony’, can't you n’ eren build those boxes f’[ ]? I strongly believe lil’ ol’ her shouldn't handle all dat’ wood . . .” you internally blush deeply at the innuendo and take the final bite of your slice of the loaf. eren speaks up, “y'sure right on we can, els’ . . . y'okay wit’ us helpin’ y'out ma?” he takes a quick glance up at ony, locking eyes with him who also lets his stare above you burn into your scalp. “s– sure, I don't mind!” you mutter out lightly and eleonora gives a jolly clap, “well ain't that just darlin’! the day's young, y'all can get started right now!” you have to hold your breath to avoid your last sip of lemonade going down your larynx. the two men mentioned how they're not busy the rest of the day and wouldn't mind before you can even collect yourself. somehow, coming over to eleonora always results in you being roped into another scheme of hers.

and just like that, you found yourself on a quiet . . . and awkward walk back to your ranch with the two young men following closely behind you. anxiety bubbled in your stomach, clamping your lips shut to avoid letting the insecure feeling from escaping your lips. the nerves were getting to you with every second that passed by. “s-so, uh– wassup wit y'all ‘round here?” they both walk up to match your pace. “oh, well, ony here prefers to do all the technical shit like– fixin’ cars n’ all'at.” eren shoves his palms into the pockets of his overalls, walking up ahead where he could look back at the two of you while talking, he maintains glances with onyankopon that you just don't seem to understand. “I prefer to stay on the ranch n’ watch the animals– y'got any besides that horsie?”

“oh– yea i've got m’ horse, mary-lou, two wolfies: bentley n’ buttercup.” a sweet smile stretches on your face, tummy warming a bit. “oh! and I've got names f'all my fish in the pond, my little lambs– oh they're just the cutest! a–and my fluffy cows! they're lovely,” you clasp your hands in excitement, eyes following your footsteps, sputtering happily over the animals. “gosh, n’ I'm tryin’ out a little butterfly area in my front garden, but m’ not the best at it, can’t tame butterflies y’know— they pee on ya’ too! that's fuckin’ crazy,” you reveal with a giggle. as you look up to ask the two a question, you can't help but blush, embarrassingly at that. eren and ony stared at you with pleasant smiles, deeply dimpled too. “oh my, m’ sorry for my ramblin’ how rude of me–”,”no. no, keep talkin’ pretty.” ony's deep voice encourages you and you peer curiously at him: trying to figure him out. he turns away from you licking his lips and spares eren a look before he starts walking again. it urges you both to continue onto the ranch as well, eren shakes his head with a chuckle; he thinks he’s got a handful on his hands.

“y’got a boyfren’ ‘round here, [ ] ?” eren brushes hair over his shoulders, asking the question calmly whilst maintaining a look up the path, ony’s arm brushed yours as he walked close by. “well– no, what about you?” you melt your lips together before stuttering out,”wait, not– i mean, girlfriend . . . well– i don’t care–!” ony barks out a laugh while eren turns around to give you a bright smile, all three of you burst into giggles. “nah, no girlfren’ or boyfren’, ma’.” ony speaks up gently, “but, uh– me n’ E’ might be lookin’ for a third to make us official, i dunno.” your eyes widen but ony gives a nonchalant shrug, handsome face glowing with a smug smile like he didn't just drop #thebomb on you. it reminded you of his grandmother, you look to eren who’s looking back at you and onyankopon with just a slight grin and your breath catches in your throat. “oh! there’s the ranch just up ahead,” you blurt out and skip past eren, scurrying over to unlatch the gate to your front garden as the two followed you in.

now your heart felt like it could melt. like– like a huge strawberry ready to burst! what did ony’ mean by that? oh, how you felt like a dizzy little dove. luckily the dogs rushed up to you, excitable and ready to meet the new visitors who they eagerly sniffed. ony’ and eren were happy to roughhouse on sight laughing with the dogs and complimenting the patch of primula's you were trying to grow, the pretty pinki-ish flowers were just beautiful. you lead them through your home, overly conscious about each step you took while they surely eyed every nook and cranny of your decor. “um- y'guys need anything? I've got some snacks . . .”, “nah, we're good,” eren mumbled, sounding obviously distracted by their nosey observations of your living space. you hear the tone of your dryer going off just as you unlatch the netted back door that served as another layer next to the already opened wooden one.

“holy shit,” ony’ whispered, your organization of the backyard was impeccable. clean and solid fencing around the cows, plants on the left with storage on the other. you left the two to walk out into the cold breeze that passed by as they observe the surroundings and the pile of wood waiting for them; all while you quickly rushed to the laundry room nearby to dislodge your clothing and stuff them into a basket. you hurry back out to join them.

“so, here's one of the other boxes i made,” you gesture to the dirty box filled with planted Spanish thyme, “i know it looks kinda wonky but, hopefully you guys can do better,” you offer an awkward laugh and sit on the back steps, legs crossed.

eren and onyankopon share a look, then grab some planks bringing them more into your line of view with some of the tools nearby and sitting in the grass. even in your own home, you felt a little out of place. in silence, eren and ony’ shared alot of chemistry you didn't understand. despite this, what ony’ said on the way here never left your mind. “y'guys got alot ‘f experience . . . relationship-wise?” you scratch behind your ear. they worked separately lining up wood and nailing them into place, muscles working diligently. “mm, yea. ‘guess y'can say that ma',” eren glances at ony who hums low and offers you a small smile.

“it's jus’ that– ‘m thinkin’ ‘bout watchu said earlier . . .” you blink, fumbling, “unless that was like a joke ‘r somethin’—”

“i wasn't joking.” onyankopon confirms calmly, his jaw tight. you allow the silence to continue for a few beats, eyes flickering back and forth between the two and your hands petting the dogs that came to lay beside you. “we don't expect ya’ to jus’ trust us like that, missy,” eren offers gently, shoving his curls into a small bun and you nibble your bottom lip.

ony's brows furrow and he's hammering the last few nails into his box before he speaks up. “how c'n we get to know you ma’? me n’ E’ been . . . chillin’ for over a year. since college, actually, n’ we been watchin’ y'too. w’dont expect you to feel the way we do in 10 minutes or even in a day. let us get t'know you.” you squint a little.

“y'serious?” your chest feels a little hot and you're praying to the gods you don't fuck this up. “c's i don't intend on gettin played wit’ ‘specially not out here, y’hear me?” and you don't mean to raise your voice a little, the sounds just flow out. “hey, hey now,” eren pushes his finished work aside and stands, tugging his overalls up, hands resting on his hips. “we don't got no bad intentions, sugar, chill wit’ us,” and you blink up at him, unmoved.

“m'kay, let's just say i decided to ‘chill’ wit’ y'guys,” you stand up, fold your arms and start, “what exactly are we g'nna do, hm?” you look back and forth between them, not missing the way your buttercup whines on the steps where she lay, evidently fed up with all the chatter. “y'got 3 seconds n’ don't say sex. one,”

“who said anythin’ ‘bout sex?” ony’ joins you two as he puts the tools down, “two,” “yea, y'better shut that shit up. let's bake sumn together, show us around y'day, hang wit’ us at our ranch, talk about shit. fuck y’mean sex?” you stubbornly stay silent and stare. eren’s jaw bone pokes out with the way he clenches it. “we're not lookin’ for sex. if we wanted sex from you we coulda seduced you a long time ago, sugar,” he shrugs with a smile and you lick your lips, sighing. “okay, ‘m sorry. I’–I'm such a bad host,” you mutter out, “y'all want anything to eat? or some water.” you hear a low ‘okay’ from ony’ so you shuffle away to the kitchen to grab some bottles for them.

you tried to focus on the coldness of the bottles on the way back as a way to cool your temperament. “i moved out here wit’ intention ‘f startin’ fresh n’ shit.” you start, tossing them bottles before plopping yourself beside buttercup who nuzzled her cold nose into your thigh. the two men were sitting once again, evidently having spoken to each other in your absence.

your voice was shaky as you took a deep breath, garnering the courage to speak up for how you felt, “i'm tired of gettin’ dogged out, n’ played wit’ n’ allat bullshit.” you pout.

“‘m not exactly sure how gettin’ involved wit’ two handsom’ fellas is gonna help me figure out to– to i dunno, regulate m’ emotions.” you frown and shove some braids back behind your ear, “s’ like i damn near avoided it– i moved back t’the country damnit.” a sigh, “i cant just figure out how to adore n’ love– people again or if i'mma be able t'dish it out as much as before.”

“you get what i mean?” your ramble ceased as you finally look up from your focus on your knees and look back and forth between ony and eren. ony chuckles softly while eren offers you a smile and speaks up.

“we'll take it slow, you'n gotta ‘love’ anybody yet, mama,” ony nods at his words, “gotta build a friendship wit'chu first, we not playin’ ‘round.”

♡

a week or so passes in which life goes by as normal. you spend your days busying yourself with gardening and grooming your animals, baking treats and new concoctions. the only exception is eren and onyankopon have somehow easily squeezed themselves into your life.

on your deliveries you hear, “howdy, ma',” they chase across their lawn and hop across the fence to drag you inside and sit you down in the warm house where the two eagerly pester you to try the . . . ‘shrimp alfredo’ they whipped up.

thus, the two would end up in your kitchen, breathing over your hair whilst you instructed them on the proper technique. “naw, i don’ told E to do all'at,” onyankopon protests. so too do they pester mary-lou and your dogs, roughhousing and giving them baths much to their dismay.

through many experiences you learn, onyankopon isn't particularly fond of being tickled, or of wearing shirts. he stays shirtless almost all twenty-four hours of the day and you can only avert your eyes. eren is obsessed with overalls and has an array of them: gray ones, distressed ones, short ones, and he never buckles them properly.. on the ranch, the two gorgeous white haired horses were named armin and reiner, two friends they shared from college. sparkling like diamonds as you're given the opportunity to ride them each around the boys’ ranch in the golden sun. you'd also learned that the two were sexually . . . fluid, they'd called it. vaguely, they'd mentioned their sex lives and based on what they said you couldn't help but assume they were talking about each other. who else was there out here except you?

“yeeehaw! can't catch up, can'ya’?” eren howls and shouts as he trots across the ranch on his horse, ony lagging behind in the chase. here you sat on a wooden little bench near the steps of ony' and eren's ranch; clad in a simple white cropped tank and blue jeans with a chunky belt, your cream coloured cowboy hat sit pretty atop your head. a pretty calico cat licked at your bare feet and nudged you for pets.

at this point, you felt yourself slipping. it was obvious by now you'd grown to enjoy each other's company and serious conversations were imminent.

what were we, how will the dynamics work, what would they expect from you? just then you felt a tap to your forehead.

“heya, girlie,” eren squats down before you to grab your attention, “watchu, thinkin’ ‘bout,” ony’ mumbled, toying with a toothpick between his teeth.

you smack glossy lips together, “jus’. . . ‘bout us three y'know? how- like, where do we go fr'm here huh?” your eyes flutter, cheeks warming. you feel the silence actually, eren and ony’ are doing that stupid thing where they talk to each other with their eyes.

butterflies flap their wings about, joyous as ever. it makes you smile a little, as you're beginning to grow nervous. “let's talk inside ma’,” onyankopon suggests, stepping past you into the house where eren follows.

“me n’ ‘ren c'n take care ‘f each other n’ you, know that?”

you all shuffle onto the dark gray couch in the living space. ony’ and eren's ranch had a deep modern aesthetic. dark oak accents adorned both the outside and inside, complimented by gray and brown shades of furniture.

“i know that . . . ,” you pout,

“so wassup,” eren stares you down, the emerald swirl of his eyes warmed your belly yet you couldn't maintain eye contact with him for long, eren just had that kind of stare without realizing it himself.

“‘m g'nna be frank, ion wanna impose on nothin’ y'folks got . . . n’ my past relationships ain't been the best.” you huff and continue, “‘m jus’ puttin’ that out there. i feel like we've been talkin’ for a while n' I'm fond of y'all.”

“i jus’ don't wanna be the one to mess things up,” you finish in a whisper.

onyankopon hums low and eren plays with his lip ring, “n’ das’ all, girlie?” he asks and pursed his lips, dimple deepening at that. you give a nod and a small ‘yup’ while intertwining your hands onto your knees that were pressed together. “y’ talk to us, we talk to you, got that? if it's an issue y'got: don't hesitate to let us know,” ony’ iterates.

eren makes a noise of agreement, “y’communicate everythin’ wit us, sugar, we're serious,” and you nod slowly. “‘kay . . . i get that,” your eyes feel a little wet with emotion, ones you're not too sure of yourself.

you were happy to hear them affirming their commitment yet still anxious for the future. regardless, you couldn't help but lurch forward, you grab the back of eren's neck to press a sweet strawberry jelly flavoured kiss to his cheek, leaving a baby pink glossy print on his cheek along with a loud ‘mwah’ as you smiled. similarly, you crawl over his lap to do the same to ony’ who only bit back a grin, gold capped teeth glistening in the light much like the glossed smudge on his face.

♡

inevitably came the days you'd call the ‘honeymoon’ phase in a relationship, except it lasted what felt like forever.

these days you preferred to be cuddled up in your bedroom, legs being warmed by a black, gray and white blanket you were committed to crocheting. with a couple dark, gloomy days where the usual creamy clouds frowned down on you, the animals often retreated to their pens and little beds of hay to seek warmed from stormy weather. buttercup and bently invaded each others personal space in their dog beds down at the living room, you smile a little at the thought.

“yeen gotta be like that, ony’,” you hear eren groan in a mischievous pout as the two men exit your bathroom smelling of your bath soap. onyankopon mumbles something of ‘’s a stupid idea’. you giggle under your breath, hands hard at work weaving and looping the thick yarn for the blanket.

“ [ ] , watchu’ think, sugar?” eren plops himself onto the bed, “hm?” still fixated on your progress, ony’ huffs from his seat on the ottoman, lotioning his chest and arms then turning back to rub some excess onto eren's foot. “i told ony’, let's take the horses f’ a ride, ma’, he talkin’ bout ‘oh it's rainy’, i think it'll be chill,” he smiles big and winks expecting something of an applause for his great idea of fun.

“ion mind whateva’ y'guys wanna do, jus’ once we shower ‘gain after, ‘fore we get sick,” you shake your head at the thought. ony’ smacks his teeth, “c'mon, don't support him.”

“what, playin’ in the rain is fun, baby!” you chuckle, eren simply props his head on his palm, enthralled by your meticulous work. regardless, he nods mindlessly in agreement at the discussion.

just like that, cowboy hats and boots were thrown on and you head down to the stables to round up the horses. ony’ and eren raced each other down to them before you could even get a word in. the thought reminded you of buttercup and bently who currently settled and slept with one's head atop the other.

the fresh rain smell hits your nostrils quickly, smelling of the humidity off the grass and pitch of the street. you could audibly hear the wind bristling about the bushes as it cooled your skin. all you wore was a thin white tank top, jeans along with your classic pink-brown boots to match your hat. eren and ony’ warmed up the horses, encouraging mary-lou to shake out her mane and trot a little. onyankopon was seated by reiner, rubbing at his legs to warm him a bit and doing the same to armin. of course, you stare unabashedly, his muscles (unclothed) bulged with each motion, waistline visible amid his jeans.

you stare so much so, that you don't even notice eren come up to your side to press a wet kiss to your neck, he wraps an arm around your shoulders and gives your ear a kiss too, “starin’ at my man, girlie?” he laughs boyishly and you swat him, “dat’s m’ man too, freak,” he gasps falsely at the insult and you speed off to grab the harness for mary-lou; ony’ pretends he didn't hear the bickering and mounts his horse.

“s’ not rainin’ all too much now, see?” eren comments, scooping his hair back into a low bun under his hat. the three of you clicked and clocked through the damp grass and onto the street, letting the drizzle of rain moisten your skin with each speckle. you gnaw at your bottom lip, lost in thought as you trail behind the two men. at the same time, another cold gust would brush past you three, drying your skin again. yet, as you flinch when a particularly large droplet mands on your cheek, the rain picks up again and you smile.

sometimes moments like these felt so good, connecting with nature and taking in the beauty of the weather. it didn't stop you from being distracted, eren's white wife-beater was getting soaked. the tattoos creeping up his side peaked through the material and stared right back at you. you bitr back a groan and cover your warming face with your palms, wiping it clean of rain, while eren and onyankopon fall back on their horses. the peaceful silence with nothing but the ‘tock’ of the horses’ hooves kept your mind wandering.

now drenched, you could only imagine peeling off these clothes, a strap of your flimsy little tank top blew off your shoulder, and you felt the material sticking to the bulge of your breasts nestled in your black bra that now stood out ten times as much. god, you felt like a fuckin’ pervert. you couldn't even bring yourself to look down at your own chest, feeling scandalized enough. something about thinking of yourself in . . . near erotic situations such as this made your clit thump like a sweet little rabbit's nose.

nonetheless, you ignore it and allow the rocking atop mary-lou as she walks to distract you. onyankopon rides his horse nearer to yours and eren does the same, you gasp under your breath when ony’ nudges you. “wassup,” he murmured, “nothin’ ‘m jus’ distracted.” you comment plainly and eren huffs out a laugh beside you.

all you do is stare down at mary-lou and pet her mane, the pulse between your legs pushed to the back of your mind. “y'so bad at lyin’, know that?” eren laughs, you blush and groan, “no ‘m not, shut up,”

“chill, chill,” ony’ whispers, in his stupid, sexy, amazing, deep voice and you let out a big shuddering breath. as you're riding you feel ony's wet bicep brushing against yours. this had to be the end of you.

ony’ reaches an arm behind you, stretching to meanly pinch eren's shoulder. you're not sure what that meant but you didn't care to know. “where we ridin’ to?” you ask, rubbing glossy lips together. “mm, let's jus’ head to me n’ ony's ranch,”

“kay,” you settle with that, sweet n’ soft.

“wanna race, jaeger?” ony’ slips in lowly, pulling ahead and looking back at you two with his. . . stupid handsome smile, “h- hey now, let's not–” and you're interrupted by shouts, “let's go!” eren pulls off.

you groan softly, hiking up mary-lou’s harness a bit as you begin to gallop behind the two men. the raindrops stung against your skin and you whined trying to catch up to the two and your breaths harsh. with each hard breath you let out you couldn't help but let it bubble up into laughter, you just felt so good.

you felt giddy, blinking away raindrops that attacked at your eyes and racing past the two men, who yelled and called out to you, “yo, ma’ we gon' catch up,” ony's cowboy hat flies back behind his head, held up by the string beneath his string as he pulls the white horse forward chasing after you.

the three of you speed past grunge fencings and rosey bushes all bowing their heads now from the deluge. your tank top was completely soaked, and you imagine so was eren's when you pulled in the gates of their ranch and headed around back where you could free mary-lou to run around in the fenced horse enclosure.

you sit on the ground and linger near the side of the house by some plants, boots kicking about scattered hay and picking up sticky mud. eren and ony’ pull in the same time, wet chests heaving and eyeing you as they quickly hop off and lead their horses to the enclosure. “you win, watchu want?” eren huffs out, swinging his hat off and tossing it to the side, letting the rain seep into his curls. “hm?” you moan while rain kisses you, “i get a prize?”

he nods and slumping down against the wall next to you and propping his arm on a plant. you take the time to stare at his pecs . . . light brown nipples peaking through at you. eren catches you staring, it forces you to look away quick and brush a wet braid out of your face just as ony’ arrives.

“yall chillin’?”

“yea . . . mama's chillin’ alright,” eren smiles up at ony who lays in the grass beside you. “she baskin’ in her– win,” eren laments, reaching forward to tickle you and you bark out laughter lurching at him. his fingers pet your ribcage and you grab eren's shoulders, “what the– fuck! eren!” you squeal and wrangle with him. ony’ sits in the wet dirt beside you guys with his hands resting behind his head, basking in the rain and ignoring the shoves and pushes nudging him.

“i swear t’ god ‘ren, you– ack!” eren flips you on your back and you land hard with your head on ony's thigh while he wrangles your hands above your head. digging your feet in the ground for leverage couldn't help with the mud slipping beneath you. onyankopon only hums in amusement, watching you stop struggling beneath eren, your chests bouncing with gasps of air.

“you . . . y'know that's not fair, eren,” “i know what's not fair, sugar?” he stares you down, grip on your wrists tight with his chest pressing against yours. the swell of your breasts popped out of your tank top, glistening and sticky when it touched his skin. “mmm, you want somethin’?” he sucks his lip rings into his mouth teasing you, eyes wide and glossed over, throat drying. you lick your lips and slip from his grasp, sitting up and leaning your back onto ony's chest. just as you make that decision you swallow hard feeling his wet chest through your thin top. you wipe some wetness off your forehead evidently applying some mud that was on your arm to the spot.

you catch your breath, rubbing dirtied arms onto your shirt to clean them as best you could. you felt filthy but god, your fat little cunt ached laying in the dirt.

“onyan'” you call out to the man behind you with your eyes trained on eren who simply sits back smiling impishly at you, “yea, sugar?”

“wan’ m’ prize,” it comes out in a whine.

“yeah? ‘n what's that gon’ be,” he murmurs low in your ear, eren still hears him. you let out a ‘hmph!’ deep in your throat. then, you drag dirty hands against your tank top before peeling it off you and above your head, tossing it into some grass elsewhere.

crawling on your knees, ass arching in ony's direction, you gesture to eren with a finger, “come here, c'mon,” and you grab the back of his neck, kissing up his sweaty wet throat licking and sucking up anything your mouth touched. you press your lips to eren's, cold wet metal between you two when you let his tongue into your mouth, sucking it up when your lips lock hot.

eren groans into your mouth, hand gripping at your ass concealed by your jeans and he falls back into the mud. you reveled in the slick sound of your lips separating from each other, tuning out how soaked your jeans were getting in the rain. the ambient pelting sound on the rooftops only edged you on further, sitting in eren's lap.

“fuck, you're nasty,” eren mumbles against your lips when you pull away for a second, fingers toggling with the buttons on his jeans. he resists a big smile, elbows resting in the muddied dirt to hold himself up while you roughly tug his jeans down a bit. just enough room for you to reach his dick.

“see how she treatin’ me, ony'?” eren wipes rain off his nose, locking heavy-lidded eyes with onyankopon then down at you, “she roughin’ me up ‘cause she won,” he grumbles and you pull his cock out.

eren flinches when his dick is exposed to the rain, tan-brown tip oozing pre mixed with droplets. your knees dug into the mud beneath you, ass arching up. you stare shamelessly at eren's dick, letting the saliva build up about your tongue while you press a few kisses to the tip. his breath shudders above you, leaning his head back for the rain to fall on his face. “c'mon, pretty, do watchu want,” you grip him tight, feeling like your palm could memorize the girth and veins that popped out. then, tugging him up slightly, you slot your mouth in the gap between the bottom of his dick to his balls. sucking on the skin, you let you built up salivation drip down his balls, slurping the heavy sack onto your tongue.

you suck eren's balls into your mouth, swirling your tongue around mounds and his mouth drops open revealing his tongue ring. he grins, giving you a loud shameless groan, he was certainly showing off for ony’ who sit behind you watching. “suck it like dat, yea,” eren mumbles to you, licking the rainwater off his lips. he lets you have your way a bit more, focused on your features: the way the rain made your eyelashes clump together, the droplets sliding down your nose, to the spitty goop around your mouth all over his balls.

“c'mon, c'mon,” he pulls your mouth off him with a hand gripping the base of your hair, licking the splittle off your chin then kissing it into your mouth and swallowing your whines. “y' fuckin’ nasty, jaeger,” onyankopon mutters lowly behind you and eren bites back a smile. “filthy ass, take that shit off,” you up off your knees, flopping back on your ass where you fiddle with the buttons on your jeans.

your cheeks burned, both eren and ony's eyes grilled into you and everywhere you touched got streaks of mud in it after having your hands dig into the sopping ground. on your arms, your boobs, eren's shirt. slowly, you shucked your jeans down, slipping them past your ankles along with your boots. your panties were stuck up your ass when you sit in some wet patches of dirty hay, tossing the jeans aside realizing you wore significantly less than the other two men with rain beating all over you.

eren and ony’ share a look then eren's the first to lurch forward gripping your legs with his muddied hands, pushing you back to lay in the dirt and kissing about the clear parts of your belly. he nips at the swell of your breasts in your bra, sucking and kissing wherever he saw fit. “er– eren,” he's prying your legs apart, pushing them ‘till your knees were besides your ears. “eren, stop–,” then he's plucking your panties out your ass and sliding them up your thighs, he stretches the thin little things beyond repair to sling them off your ankles. “what the fuck,” you whisper, eren's fucking unreachable n’ you're both staring at your fat puffy cunt. he takes a second to look to the side at ony’ before returning his attention to your pussy, sprinkles of water sliding down, yet the blubber of slick collected between your lips was noticeable.

the pretty thing was so fat your hardened clit could barely peak through. eren dips his tongue deep, digging at your hole then dragging his tongue through your folds illiciting a low gasp. the cold metal bar in his tongue nudged at your clit. he curled his tongue around the bundle of nerves, giving it a few flicks before spitting and licking another strop up your cunt. “feels– fuckin’ good, eren, oh,” you whimper, his gentle motions paired with the ambient beating of rain against your skin had you on a high. he shakes his head side in your cunt, arousal making sticky strings beside his cheeks as his nose nudges the fat of your pussy. “holy shit,” you press your head into the soft ground beneath you, eyelids fluttering shut when eren suckles softly on your clit. you hum and moan, licking your lips and feeling your head spin, “‘ren . . . oh my god,” he slurps noisily suctioning his mouth over your pussy, sucking hard over and over and over again relishing in the throb of your clit against his tongue.

“he knows, baby,” ony’ murmurs and your mouth drops open with a loud moan, his voice just did something for you. you felt the muscles in your legs twitch, itching to close them with each swipe of eren's tongue and swirling pleasure in your tummy. your hands dig into the dirt behind you, legs quivering.

“tastes fuckin’ good don't it?” he's mumbling and eren's groans into your pussy sends shockwaves against your clit, he nods vigorously. “ohh– shit,” you sit up on your elbows digging in the mud, hair soaked and heavy and your legs only spread wider; your eyes trained on eren's tongue making sloppy circles around the fat mound in your pussy.

eager, you slip your hands into eren's wet curls, stuffing his face into your cunt, “eren, eren– yea-ah!” his groans rumble in his throat and here came the fucking waterworks. your climax comes hard along with several slick kisses to your clit, beads of sweat and rain slipping down between a furrowed brow and a guttural moan ripping from your throat.

eren's mouth releases its latch onto you, your legs flopping into puddles of dirt beneath you. “prepped her f'you,” eren licks his lips and looks to onyankopon who sits there with a fat bulge beneath his jeans although unbuttoned.

“mm yeah?,” you both shuffle over to the wet patch of hay ony’ sat in, slightly less soaked albeit equally as muddy.

onyankopon gestures to eren with two fingers as he lifts himself up, brushing water from his face and allowing eren to take a seat against the wall. your eyes flicker between them, sitting with your butt resting on the heels of your feet feeling exposed. it doesn't help that eren reaches behind you to unhook your bra, your cheeks feel hot. nevertheless, you slip them off your arms.

onyankopon shucks down his jeans just below his ass, “ [ ], come right here,” walking on your knees you shuffle forward to ony’ who puts a hand above the swell of your ass, pressing his bare chest to yours. ony's gaze is something serious, he bends his neck and clasps his lips to yours. it's slow, methodical and hot. onyankopon breathes deep and groans into your mouth. your body goes limp a little: drooping in his grasp and relaxing against his body as his tongue gently guided yours against his own. “mhm, okay . . . okay,” he presses a few kisses to your lips with a squeeze around your throat as he weans you off his mouth.

“turn ‘round,”

you whine, “w'nna look at'chu,”

ony's unmoved, he swallows, “look at ‘ren, baby,” and he guides you as you turn in the slippery mud to arch your ass up to him, his palm glides down the small of your back deepening that arch while your head rests on your folded arms before you. the position makes it hard for you to focus properly on eren, you peep at him through your eyelashes.

your cunt is sticky, swollen lips bound together by the white film of your arousal after the orgasm eren gave you, and you feel ony's hands kneading your ass. he spreads them, watching your pussy lightly spread open with it. you hear his belt buckle jingle slightly as his hands continue to massage your back right along with the downpour. ony’ grips his cock in his hands, tugging the thick thing lightly a couple times. he catches eren staring as he pumps it harshly before pressing the fat tip against you.

“fuuuck,” ony’ slaps his cockhead at your entrance letting it get coated by your arousal before slipping the first inch in slowly and already you're speechless. “holy– shit,” your cunt stretched to accommodate the girth and ony’ grips the curve of your back for leverage, letting out a guttural groan while slowly inching into you.

he sits in it for a moment, allowing you just a moment to familiarize yourself with the fat pipe he just lay in you; then, he's pulling out slowly and pushing in again and you whine. “what the fuck,” you feel ony’ lean his weight over you, and you gasp as he starts smacking his hips to your ass.

paired with the wetness of the rain, his hips leave a stinging slap against you and you're faltering with your tits mushed against the mud. eren left your pussy sloppy, your cunt whipping up loads of cream slick around ony's cock and your mouth is just ajar. jaw tightening with shallow, whiny moans cascading past your lips, ‘ah's and ‘oh's are all the men hear. “mm, ony’,” you try to murmur, body giving way fully to the mud beneath and ony's grip on your tightens,”watchu’ want, hm',” he grumbles.

oh how he knows nothing of the way your clit throbs everytime his heavy balls slap against your cunt.

“wan'— wan’ it deeper, please,” and you gasp hard when ony’s hand comes up to your ass, digging his thumb into the curled rim of your butt before bringing a foot to the ground for leverage; his ankle beside your ear, you eagerly grab onto it. “got fuckin’ good manners, don't she?” he grunts out, and the other man nods.

onyankopon gives you two warning strokes, pressing his cock to the hilt and curling his thumb inside your ass and you feel overwhelmed. then, you gasp in a loud sob as ony’ starts drilling his cock deeper into you, his hips smack you hard and his weight presses you everytime he drives his cock in. “fuck, fuck–,” you're squealing, hands draw digs into the mud as you can't help but writhe against the mud. “feel good?” you all but whine in response, “feel fuckin' good?” “ye- yes!” you mewl out. ony’s muscles contract and you can see it in his leg, intent on keeping you from sliding away from him under the soaked muddy slop.

the noises are . . . obscene. pornographic bursts of air shooting out amidst the stirring up of your melting cunt and your cheeks burn with embarrassment along with fresh tears streaming but you're breathless. “so fuckin’ loud,” ony’ mumurs, his lips curling into a smile when he hears the noises you make.

“m’– fuck, m’ sorry,” you weep and your walls squeeze ony’ tight. you feel a glob of slick collect at the tippy top of your cunt, the fat bulge of your clit and stickily drip down onto the ground with each rock of your bodies. “takin’ m'shit fuckin’ good, sugar,” onyankopon drawls low and you sob.

you hear him whistle above you and with a quickness eren's pants come into view. he sits, legs spread with his groin in line with your face against the ground. he scoots forward enough so he can lift your head and replace the mud beneath your nose with the musk of his balls. “‘ren, ‘ren, ren,” you're chanting, itching for your orgasm approaching with each quick and sloppy drag of cock in you. “m” right here, girlie,” ony's pummeling you from behind and your drooly mouth now has eren's pretty tanned cock slapping against it. “holy– fuck, hng- shit,” you mutter out before you're latching your lips onto eren's tip, inviting him into your mouth. he controls it, gripping your braids and rocking your head onto his dick.

“c'mon, c'mon, takin’ that shit s'fuckin’ good,” eren praises when he starts to snap his hips into your mouth, matching ony's strokes. he strokes your soaked hair gently, juxtaposing the nasty aggression each rock of his hips brought. you gagged, muffled, globs of spit streaking down your chin as you relaxed your throat for eren's dick. in the same way, you're making a mess on ony's cock, coating his length in hot creamy release that trickled down your own cunt. “she's fuckin’ creamin' on it, E',” and you moan when eren laughs cruelly above you, “cream on y’fuckin’ cock, ma’,” he grunts.

each drag of cock against the ridges of your cunt, the slosh of your mouth had you moaning in a frenzy. “was’ ya’ problem, huh?” eren groans out, and onyankopon knows exactly what your problem is.

“mama's bout to fuckin’ nut, huh?” he can feel the extra squeeze around his cock and rolls his neck to let some rain coat his face and distract him from his own ache. they listen to how you squeal around eren's cock, hands grabbing at his jeans and ony’ pumps his thumb into your ass consistency.

“mmm, fuck,” onyankopon hums, angling himself so the curve of his cock digs at you just right, and he smiles: satisfied when you start to squirm and fuss beneath him. eren pulls you off and you sob, coughing a little to clear your larynx. you whimper as eren all but ruts against your face. “keep her right fuckin’ there,” ony’ groans and you grasp onto eren's jeans, cunt twitching with each movement yet eren forces your shoulders back to keep your body where ony’ wants you: daggering his cock into you with a forcefull quickness that eren's rutting mimics.

“ohmygod, oh!” you blubber out, chanting ‘shit, shit, shit's

“gon’ leave you fuckin’ gapin’, quit playin’,” and you weep.

your hips twitch and you feel the knot in your stomach stiffening, “wan’ you're cum, want y'all's c–cum, fuckkk,” wail into eren's skin and take his cock back into your mouth just as your cunt spurts and your ears feel clogged from the rush of blood to your abdomen. “take it, take it, take that cum, baby,” eren groans. you felt light-headed, stars twinkling at you around the edges of your vision as your eyes rolled and soon you were forced to blink away the brain fog to swallow the thick loads eren gushes into your mouth.

he whines, unabashedly and onyankopon gives you a couple more strokes before his cock is digging into you to bury his surge of cum into you with a hiss.

eren falls back, letting you catch your breath and stroking rain away from your face. ony’ pulls out quick before you start to get sore, giving your cunt a few wet slaps before eren's pulling your limp aching body onto him to give you some relief. “gotchu’, gotchu’.” he consoles.

“c'mon, E,” ony’ rushes, “huh?”

“gotta’ get out the fuckin’ rain,” he puffs out a laugh before he's lifting you off eren. they both try not to slip in the mud, hurrying off into the ranch for long hot showers.

913 notes · View notes

vamptastic · 2 years

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occasionally i sit there and just have a holy fuck i saw mcr LIVE in 2022 dude moment. i was THERE. i saw and met and talked to so many cool people and heard so many of my favorite songs and went to possibly the worst breakfast joint in north florida and dehydrated myself to impressive levels and somebody drove a HEARSE to the VENUE. dude. i was 17!!!! i got to do that as a teenager! like this band that was so important to so many adults when they were my age, that got them to the place they are now, managed to do the same thing for me years after they broke up and now they're back and i'm experiencing it right alongside the people they saved. also they're just so fucking good live, i don't think i realized how much metal influence they really have esp ray until i heard it in person, the music really sounds completely different in a way you can't capture in recordings. i spent the whole summer leading up to it with their albums keeping me company at my lonely ass internship, watching the tour from afar never thinking id get to go, and then i actually went and saw and participated in it and they've only gotten more important to me since then. just, man, mcr is everything.

#discovered so much new music thanks to them too!!#franks other bands and the misfits and thursday and midtown and homeless gospel choir and-#also got me more into punk history and riot grrrl and metal altho i am. very much a neophyte.#also was so important to me to see so many trans ppl in one place and have gerard wave the flag around #when ive been watching things get worse n worse for trans people #i mean shit dude i already knew i was gonna have to wait till 18 but at least it was my dad and not desantis before 😭#will always remember make room!!! and vampires especially. those songs are so fucking powerful and even more so live #idk the live music in my town is all country and classic rock covers #wanna get into the local music scene in college but until then? never seen live music before and this was so so so special #like what a first concert holy fuck. and everyone was so nice even tho i was some 17 y/o with my mom and no idea how this all worked!!#just. mcr man!!! mcr.

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quizzicalwriter · 11 months

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dally winston x virgin!reader who asks her boyfriend dally to be her first time

Sweet Thing

Pairing: Dallas Winston x Fem!Reader

Summary: Intimacy, intimacy, intimacy.

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Kissing, touching, fingering. Inexperienced and slightly innocent reader. Loss of virginity.

A/N: Thank you for the request!

Word Count: 2.8k (I got carried away.)

You’d always been Dallas’s favorite preoccupation, distracting him from everything else in life. The sweet thing he carted around whenever he hung around with the boys or found himself in the drunken den that was Buck’s on a Saturday night. You’d be there, propped on his lap with his arms wrapped securely around your waist.

Not that you didn’t have anything to say besides sitting there, hell, the guys loved you. You could hold your own when it came to their wit and it made you a worthy companion for Dallas in their eyes, not to mention your inexplicable ability to put up with his shit when nobody else had before - or seemingly nobody else had been given the chance.

Normally Dallas would’ve gone for girls at the drive-in, greaser girls, or any woman he could get his hands on or who could handle his banter for longer than a minute without giving him the back of their hand. You weren’t one of them, and frankly, that terrified Dallas. There was a part of him that wanted to pull away, push you away in hopes that he’d save himself the pain of heartbreak later on he’d convinced himself he’d suffer. But he always stopped himself whenever you found yourself in his arms, gazing up at him with your doe-like eyes.

It was a difficult thing, Dallas being intimate. He was born and raised in a constant battle for survival, not showing love or producing it, but you made it easy. The longer you two had been together the longer he found himself wanting to keep you close, protect you from dangers he seemed to see everywhere. The worries you once had about him leaving eventually faded, the look in his eyes as he gazed at you whenever you laid in his arms far outweighed any ill thoughts you’d suffered with.

The only way you could describe it was ardent, laced with a deep desire that you’d never seen before in his brown eyes. A deep desire that would show itself in the bounds of the night after the two of you had disappeared together, culminating in you on his lap in his bed, hips rocking together as he kissed along your throat and down onto your chest. Or with your legs wrapped loosely around his hips, him grinding into you, you whispering sweet moans into his mouth spurring him on to do more, touch you more, please you more.

Dallas never pushed, he was always understanding whenever you pulled away. Of course, he’d have to adjust himself in his jeans, but he’d quickly pull you to his chest and press delicate kisses along your face, murmuring how much you mean to him, something he didn’t dare do in front of others. That side of Dallas was for you, nobody else, so you treasured it whenever he showed it.

On one particular Saturday night in the midst of autumn, you found yourself propped up against Dallas’s side on one of the couches in Buck’s bar, legs bent up at your chest as you fiddled with frayed denim at the end of your pant leg. Dallas was in a debate with a random man, someone he seemed to know well enough to bullshit with, talking about how the two had snagged something good off a rich man’s car not too long ago.

If it hadn’t been for the incessant country music Buck played when it rounded two in the morning you’d likely have fallen asleep against Dallas, but the occasional jump of a new song kept you jerking awake, a tired pout situating itself on your features as you rested your cheek against Dallas’s shoulder.

“Looks like your miss is real tired.” The man stated, taking a long puff from his cigar before gesturing toward you with the end of it, a snicker following his words as he propped himself up against the end of his pool cue. Dallas quirked a brow, looking down at you where you were tucked into his side with a hidden smile.

“Guess she is.” He murmured, not saying anything more beyond that before moving to prop himself up straighter, hand smoothing down your back as he looked down at you. “Tired?”

You weren’t tired, tired. More so bored, the constant scent of smoke and alcohol wasn’t helping the boredom or the budding headache in the back of your skull. But knowing if you said anything other than ‘yes’ at that moment would result in another hour downstairs, you nodded, feigning a yawn as you let your eyes flutter deceptively.

Dallas caught on, but he didn’t say anything. Instead choosing to click his tongue against his teeth as he played along, shrugging as he moved to stand. “I’ll see you later, man.” He stated, causing the older man to shrug himself before dispersing off into the crowd. Dallas turned to you, helping you to your feet before leading you up the stairs.

“Lyin’ is a sin, y’know that right?” He chuckled out, quiet enough for only you to hear as he nudged open his bedroom door with the toe of his shoe, causing you to laugh yourself and avert your gaze from his as you moved into the familiar room.

“Didn’t lie.” You mumbled out, another pout crossing your lips as you kicked off your shoes, making your way to his bed. “Real tired, Dally.”

“Sure, doll.” He snickered from the corner of the room as you made yourself comfortable on the bed, the familiar metallic clang of his belt hitting the wooden floor echoing throughout the room soon after.

He moved beside you then, letting out a sigh as he wrapped his arms around your middle, pulling your back flush with his chest. The sound of country music and clattering pool balls still echoed from downstairs, but the only thing you could bring yourself to focus on was the feeling of Dallas’s knee between your legs.

It was an innocent move, both of you slept with your legs intertwined, it felt comfortable given how small his bed was. As he shifted to get more comfortable his knee pressed harder against your clothed cunt, causing your cheeks to flush red as you choked back a whine. Dallas stiffened, breath catching in his throat as he took a moment to gauge your reaction before moving his knee again.

“Dal-“ You whined, hand moving down in between your legs as you buried your face into the pillow you two shared, his scent lingering heavily on the fabric doing nothing to quell the growing ache between your legs.

“What, doll? Feel good?” He whispered, words ghosting across the nape of your neck, causing your back to arch involuntarily as you slowly nodded. His hand smoothed down your front, bumping over the fabric of your shirt and jeans as he slowly moved to cup your sex, ever so gently applying pressure as he rocked himself against you.

You felt yourself soaking your underwear with arousal the longer he rutted against you, his fingers pressing against your cunt through your jeans as he did. A familiar sensation bloomed in your lower stomach, one that left you clenching your thighs around his palm as you tried to quell the growing ache.

“Gotta tell me what you want.” He whispered against the shell of your ear, trailing a litany of open-mouthed kisses along the curvature of your throat, pressure from his fingers increasing against your cunt. “Need to hear you say it.”

“Fuck, Dallas, just fuck me.” You whined, embarrassment over the prospect of voicing your needs soon being overweighed by the sheer need you felt for him, your hand moved to grasp at his forearm as you begged. “Please, Dal.”

That seemed to be all he needed as he moved to sit up on his knees, pressing another kiss to your jaw before pulling his shirt up and over his head. You laid there, lips parted as you watched him undress, feeling your blush spread from your cheeks to the top of your chest. You wanted to touch him, feel him, kiss him - so you did. You moved to sit up, folding your legs underneath yourself as you moved to press a kiss to his lips, hands moving to cup his jaw, only pulling away when you felt that familiar pull to touch him elsewhere.

You’d seen him without a shirt, but you’d never truly been able to admire him until now. Your hands wavered over his body, fingertips dipping in between the rivets of his toned skin, along healed scars, a faint bruise that still lingered under the left side of his ribcage. Above it all you found yourself fascinated with the way his chest rose with each breath and the small freckles that lined his skin. They reminded you of the ones he’d gotten from his time in the sun that plastered themselves against his cheekbones and upper shoulders.

Dallas let you look, eyes fluttering whenever your hands would drift farther south than before. You could hear him taking in shuddering breaths, chest catching every few minutes as though he were teetering on the edge of self-control. He raised his hands then, looking to you for approval before he lifted your shirt up and over your head, bundling the soft fabric in his hands before letting it fall to the floor.

You reached your hands behind yourself, unclasping your bra, letting the straps fall down your shoulders until your bra collapsed into your lap, exposing your breasts to him. Dallas had seen women before, he’d seen plenty, but none of them had ever had the effect you currently had on him. He felt his throat dry, brown eyes flickering between your chest and your eyes before he moved to gently lay you back against his bed, situating himself over top of you.

“You want this?” His words were hushed as his hand drifted down over your bare stomach, slowly unbuttoning your jeans as he kept his gaze locked on your face, watching for any sign of discomfort or worry. When you responded with a nod and a quiet, “I want this.” He smiled, a soft laugh leaving him as he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips.

You’d envisioned losing your virginity hundreds of times, a perfect encapsulation of what sex had to be painted in your mind, vivid and blaring. But this was so different, the way Dallas was so gentle, not afraid to laugh if something awkward happened, both of you sharing the pure moment of intimacy with smiles on your face. Nothing could’ve ever prepared you for it and that somehow made it all so much better.

As he slid your jeans off your legs he smiled up at you, a soft look on his face as he tossed the denim to the floor, moving back up to place another languid kiss to your lips. His hand moved between your thighs, fingers splaying against your cunt through your underwear, a groan passing his lips when he felt just how wet you’d become.

“Dallas, please-“ You begged, thighs trembling as he continued to tease you through your underwear. He relented, placing a gentle kiss to your jaw before moving to sit back up, slowly sliding your underwear down and off your body before discarding them to the floor as well.

“So beautiful.” He murmured, eyes wandering over your form laid in front of him, hands smoothing up and down your sides as he took it all in. “So fuckin’ beautiful, doll.”

You watched with bated breath as he slipped his jeans off, kicking his boxers off along with them. His length was bigger than you’d anticipated, only having felt the shape of it when you’d ground down against him during your frequent make-out sessions. As if sensing your apprehension he moved back over you, hand moving to cup your cheek as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“It won’t hurt, alright? We’ll take it slow, real slow.” He whispered, voice soothing as he helped you to wrap your legs around his hips, your heels subtly digging into the flesh of his lower back. He smiled down at you, eyes voicing a silent question if you were alright to which you quickly nodded back, a smile upon your face as well.

He braced himself on his arm, face close to yours as he slid a hand down between you, helping to guide himself inside before sliding his fingers up to slowly circle your clit. A moan left you at the feeling, leaving you clenching around his tip, the feeling causing him to bite back a grunt as he slowly began pushing in.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He groaned out, brows screwing together as he pushed himself to the hilt inside of your welcoming cunt, pausing in his movements to give you a chance to grow used to the feeling. “Doin’ so good, baby, so good.”

You’d heard horror stories from your friends, tales of how their first time had been painful and rushed, but this felt the complete opposite. While it took you a moment to grow used to the feeling of him inside of you, it was an incredibly welcome feeling. You could feel yourself clenching down around him, his fingers circling your clit only adding to the feeling building in your stomach.

“Dal- Dal, move.” You whispered out, voice hoarse as you grasped at his shoulders, desperate for him to move. He snickered at your pleading tone, slowly pulling himself out before pushing back in, slowly and deeply fucking you as he whispered words of praise into the crook of your neck, pressing kisses against your damp skin whenever he couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of your warmth surrounding him.

You could hear your wetness coating his cock with each thrust of his hips, his fingers slick against your clit. The room was filled with the sound of skin meeting skin, broken-off moans, and whispered words. Your thighs tightened against him as he adjusted himself, lifting himself a bit, unknowingly brushing against a spot within you that you’d never known existed - one that pulled a drawn-out moan from your chest.

“Yeah?” He asked through a smirk, hand moving down to cup your hip as he pushed back into you, hitting that very same spot. You could hardly think, let alone breathe as he fucked himself into you, fingers working at your clit as he angled himself to hit that spot over, and over. “Taking me so good, doll.” He grunted out, grip tightening on your hip as he picked up his pace.

Your hand shot down to his wrist as he continued toying with your clit, eyes fluttering shut as you felt your orgasm building to its peak in your lower stomach, the feeling causing you to rock your hips in tandem with his thrusts. The look on your face was enough to make him groan, his hand moving from your hip to your jaw as he tilted your face to look at him.

“Look at me when you cum on my cock, baby.” He murmured, voice soft yet authoritative as he slammed into you. As soon as you opened your eyes he moved his hand, pressing it against your lower stomach as he continued fucking himself into you. It felt as though he were pushing you down onto him, that spot that nearly blinded you with pleasure constantly being rutted against by his cock.

All you could muster was a weak, “F-fuck,” as you came undone, back arching off the bed as you whined out his name. He didn’t stop, stifling a groan at the way you writhed beneath him as he felt his orgasm building. Once you started swatting at his fingers that still circled your clit he moved his hand, choosing to grab the other side of your hip, effectively propping you up against him as he fucked you.

The pace was near brutal, moans forced from your body as your breasts bounced with each thrust. You couldn’t focus, still reeling from your last orgasm as he continued fucking you into oversensitivity-fueled bliss. You could feel his thumbs pressing into your hipbones, short curses slipping past his lips.

“Gonna cum, baby.” He grunted, pulling out of you a second later, spilling his cum across your lower stomach. His chest heaved, cheeks flushed red as he pumped himself through his orgasm. You could only watch in a haze of your own, still catching your breath as he looked up at you, that familiar crooked smile taking over his features as he moved on top of you once more.

“Did so good, doll. Real good.” He murmured against your cheek, pressing a kiss to your skin between each sentence. “You feel alright? Need me to get you something?” He asked after a moment, a hint of concern evident in his tone that made you smile as you shook your head.

“It felt perfect, Dal. I’m alright.” You whispered back, turning over onto your side to face him, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek, leaning up after to press a kiss to his waiting lips. “Perfect.”

A/N: Thank you for reading if you made it this far, or even if you just skimmed it over - either way I appreciate the interactions! As always you can find my work over on my ao3 under the user “Unscriptural.” Thank you anon for the request! (Sorry for the late posting, or early? Wherever you are? I finished editing it and didn’t want to queue it, so here is your daily scheduled reading material.)

#dallas winston x y/n #dallas winston writing #dallas winston x reader smut #dallas winston drabble #dallas winston x reader #dallas winston smut #dallas winston imagine #dallas winston #dally winston x reader #dally winston #my work #the outsiders writing #the outsiders fanfiction #the outsiders fanfic #the outsiders #request #anon ask #the outsiders dally #the outsiders dallas

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obsessivevoidkitten · 1 year

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Between A Rock And A Hard Place

Male Yandere Human-like Golem x Gender Neutral Human Reader (CW: Noncon, huge dick, golem man, magic, fatal violence towards bandits, spit used as lube, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 1.8k (Sorry this took forever, was originally going to be a drabble and then kinda got away from me, hope you all enjoy huge dick golem man.)

The small town that you lived in, Somnheim, had been victim to a swathe of horrible luck. Raided by bandits, packs of beasts killing livestock, and enemy soldiers scavenging what they could. Finally the town had enough and sent for a practitioner of the magic arts to aid them in the defense of their village.

This was you.

They didn’t have much but they offered a home and food for your services. You figured you could help them and have a quiet place to conduct your research away from the prying eyes of the council, who liked to hold newer mages under their thumb. It would also just be something nice you could do for your fellow humans, and these folks clearly needed the help.

You didn’t want to stay in this place forever though, so your solution would have to be one that would last long after you were gone.

Given your expertise in summoning and animating the logical choice was a good, old fashioned, golem. A pentagram, some select incense, clay flesh molded to a slate skeleton and imbued with an amethyst heart carrying an artificial soul, some runes carved in, and a scroll inserted that would have him follow his purpose and give him personality.

Then just add in a spell that turned the humanoid clay man into something more human so as not to frighten the villagers too badly and make him able to experience a near human existence.

The ritual was a complete success. Of course it was. You were you after all, young but talented and more importantly utterly dedicated to your craft.

Somnheim now had a mighty protector. An artificial man over 9 feet tall, with huge bulging muscles, shaggy brown hair, stoic brown eyes that gave nothing away, and glowing green runes on his arms and legs. The spell that made him human-like was more than just visual, it gave him nearly all the functions of a human male, he’d be as durable and strong as the hardest metal, never age, and of course he was certainly infertile.

Not one for creative names, you named him Slate.

Eventually bandits came by and decided they would stock up in Somnheim before going on to bigger and better loot.

They did not live to regret that decision.

Slate simply rolled a massive boulder down the hill they approached from and flattened all but a couple. Those he took care of quickly with magically precise throws of average sized stones.

Over the months any threat he couldn’t flatten with a boulder or smack with a stone he would pop open with his mighty fists.

By the end of his first year as the village’s guardian he was beloved by every single townsperson. Even the tiny children, who would climb on him and put flowers in his shaggy hair as he smiled and watched, had no fear of him.

You had enjoyed your time there, but eventually it was time for a change of scenery. You wanted to do more field research and you had saved enough money up with side projects to be able to fund a trip to the other side of the country near The Great Forest.

The villagers were grateful and sad to see you go, but they were much more interested in Slate than you.

But when you packed your bags to leave behind your wattle and daub dwelling once and for all you found yourself blocked by Slate.

He uttered one word in that deep, almost monotone, voice of his.

“No.”

“What do you mean no? I have to leave.” You tried to squeeze past him but he was not having it.

“I must protect the village… Your presence here makes the village safer… I might need repairs… or reinforcements… And you also tasked me with keeping you safe…”

You fudged the wording. You, breather of life into stone, weaver of clay, and creator of souls, messed up the wording.

He picked you up like a box of luggage and sat you on a chair in your makeshift study before going over to the heaviest bookshelf, picking it up, and placing it in front of the only door so you couldn’t escape.

“I’ll move it when I need to leave… then I will put a rock outside to keep you here…”

And that became your life. A literal prisoner in your own home.

Your magical abilities were useless in this situation, you were not a battlemage that could explode a wall, you couldn’t teleport, you bent earth.

Of course you tried to tunnel your way out by making a hole under your bed, but Slate had walked in and caught you red handed. He had confiscated and locked away all your magical supplies and texts unless you needed them to repair him you were not getting them back.

Slate was tentative enough of your physical needs, bringing you food and water and taking you outside like some sort of pet for sunlight, fresh air, and exercise. You had tried to run away but of course he had inhuman speed. And the villagers refused to help. What if Slate refused to save them if they did that?

It was a fair concern, he was made to protect the village and not villagers, he may even see them as a threat if they assisted you. You were on your own.

Though you were healthy enough physically your mental condition was deteriorating rapidly. How could you not be? Being trapped in the same building, even with trips outside, was awful. The villagers only looked at you with pity if they looked at you at all, and no one would even talk to you anymore.

It got to the point where you barely eat, refused to go outside, and spent all your time laying in bed.

Slate was failing the magical directives that governed his personality and behavior. You were clearly not safe, he was convinced that you would die if this continued, and honestly you likely would… eventually…

But the golem was not incapable of learning. He observed the other humans to find out what he could add to your life to bring you back to your usual self.

One night, when he was sitting in front of the house watching the humans passing by and holding hands, he came to the conclusion that humans had families, they lived together in their dwellings and they loved each other. They coupled together and mated.

Up until this point Slate had only been directed by simple emotion and the unyielding parchment that had imbued him with his goals. But now his task demanded something more of him, it demanded a much more complex emotion. The magic in him allowed this evolution, and now he was much more dangerous because he loved you. But it wasn’t just love he felt for the first time, it was lust.

Slate’s expression became one of someone thinking about the one who they adored infinitely, an expression of a man thinking about the person he wanted to have writhing in pleasure beneath him, even his normally green runes and brown eyes took on an amorous pink glow.

When you heard the boulder blocking the door shift and then heard the bookshelf take its place as what was blocking your way out as Slate came lumbering in with his heavy steps you didn’t even glance up.

Not until he stood in front of you and you noticed his strange pink glow replacing his green one did you stir.

You sat up in bed and when you saw the strange way his normally near emotionless eyes were staring at you, and glowing, you scooted away.

“I know what you need now! I am so sorry for not realizing sooner…” He said in a surprisingly soothing tone, a stark departure from his normally deep monotone.

“What do yo-”

Your words were forgotten as he took off his shirt and pants revealing a sweaty body and a frighteningly large cock.

“You need a partner to be happy, like the other humans, and you need to mate!”

He sounded very eager.

“No! Uh… I don’t need to… mate. I need to lea-” he put a large finger over your lips and shushed you before gripping your pants and peeling them and your underwear away from you carefully.

There was no dissuading him from his chosen course of action, he would make you happy and keep you safe no matter what!

It’s what you needed.

Slate leaned forward and spit all over your hole, thoroughly lubing it with his spit, before pressing his big cock into your hole.

It was so large that you let out a whimper of pain at first, but he was somehow knowledgeable enough about sex to know he needed to let you adjust to the size rather than just ramming himself in.

You gasped and writhed but he held you still with his massive hands running up and down your sides as he slowly pulled you down on his prick.

Slate was in complete heaven, he had never really known much pleasure of any kind, let alone the type that came with burying his cock in someone he was now completely obsessed with.

He had no idea his dick could be used for this at all, but now that he did he would certainly be doing this everyday, maybe even a couple times a day! The perfect blend of heat and softness was amazing.

As he began to thrust slowly, with a blissed out expression as he stared up at nothing with drool coming out of his mouth, you couldn’t help but moan in pleasure as his cock caressed your depths perfectly.

Hearing your breathy moans snapped him back to reality. You were finally happy again~

The treatment was working! That settled it, he would do this every single day no matter what!

Carefully gripping your sides a bit more firmly he moved your entire body back and forth on his cock. You couldn’t help it, your whole body twitched with the force of a massive orgasm. The sensation of your body spasming around his previously virgin dick caused him to slam in deep and cum hard.

He pulled you close, holding your head into his muscular chest as he panted, his dick still firmly impaling your limp body. You hadn’t been eating much and this serious fucking had taken a lot out of you.

Slate cleaned the two of you up, bathing you gently before taking advantage of your compliant state by spoon feeding you some dinner he had brought from a town person.

Mating with you made you so pleasured and too tired to resist him when he took care of you, he almost couldn’t wait until you had enough energy to do it again, his cock strained in his pants with anticipation.

#yandere teratophilia #yandere monster #monster boyfriend #gender neutral reader #yandere boyfriend #male yandere x gn reader #yandere terato #my ocs #yandere x reader #male yandere #My OC Slate

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ceilidho · 8 months

Text

take me home, country road

[ao3]

prompt: 1800s price/reader…. reader flees to his town where Price is the sheriff after a murder in her previous town only to be mistaken for the mail order bride that Price just sent for ….and he’s not interested in hearing any of her excuses when she tells him that he’s got the wrong girl (part 3) part 1, part 2

“Neglecting your husband already?” he asks when you pull away from the arm curling around your waist. It’d migrated there from your back during the walk away from the courthouse.

“You know I’m not—I’m not some horse that you can just…break in,” you seethe, glaring up at Price. Your arms are crossed tight over your chest, putting the slightest boundary between you and him. It’s more of a mental boundary than anything, a self-soothing gesture; you know it hardly even registers to him because the man still looks down at you with that unimpressed expression, like dealing with a particularly vexing child.

“I hadn’t noticed,” he says dryly, looking you up and down. It’s a scorching, hungry look and it makes you shift from foot to foot.

The two of you stand outside the front door of his house, the front door still shut tight. You put up a fuss on the walk from town as the reality of your situation finally sunk in, squirming in his hold until he threatened to just load you over his shoulder and carry you off. His tone leaves little for you to doubt. Nothing about him brooks skepticism; until the end of time, you’ll look at John Price and think, this is a man of action. This is a man that will move heaven and earth.

You clam up after that, lips pursed shut though turned down at the corners.

It’s a bigger house than you might’ve expected for a single man, but perhaps it was built with a wife and children in mind. The thought makes you swallow. A wooden two-story thing with a porch out front and an adjacent stable for his two horses with a pen around back. Speckled Appaloosas that look up at the sound of his boots and keys, attentive for all of a few seconds before losing interest.

You know without asking that Price must have built this house with his own two hands. It’s not shoddy by any means, but his house has that indefinable quality that some places have. Organic. Homegrown, almost. It’s hard to put up against the houses of your youth, but then again, you grew up in the cramped quarters of the city, apartments thick with the scent of sewage on bad days and dust on the good. The two are hardly comparable. It’s even harder to put up against the estates that you’ve spent the better part of the last few years cleaning and learning inside out, but at least his house doesn’t make your stomach turn at the sight.

There’s a moment when you first turn to him where you wonder if he’ll look for approval in your face, some sign to set him at ease, but when you meet his gaze, it’s steady and impenetrable. Quietly self-assured. It’s incongruent with the machismo you were raised around, the constant need to impress or transcend. It puts you on edge. It makes you almost feel like baring your teeth.

Your comment had come from seeing the horses and the house and the porch with the two rocking chairs, your hackles raising every step closer. Price built his house big enough for children because he anticipated a baby in his future. Children he’d have with his wife, which, though a fuzzy memory as far as memories go, you quietly stepped into the role of not half an hour ago.

You’ve thought about it before. Motherhood; marriage, domestic living, settling down with a man to start a family. The reality of your life has always made it seem like a problem for the future. Years chipping away like flakes of faded paint off the walls of your bedroom, still living with your aunt and uncle well into adulthood, trying desperately to scrimp and save and stay afloat. Disappointing but not surprising that you’d never been considered the marriable sort, not with scrubbing other people's toilets for a living.

And now look at you, ring on your finger and whisked home to be bedded. A shiver roles down your spine at the thought and you scowl at Price instead of sinking into the strange thrill.

When he wraps a hand around your wrist to pull you towards him (his fingers easily overlapping; another thrill), you snap.

“That is quite enough with all the touching!”

His eyes narrow. “I’ll have more than my hands on you by the end of the night.”

A more proper woman would gasp. You barely hold yours back.

You know in the back of your mind that you’ve already lost any semblance of an upper hand in this situation. It has long spiraled out of your control. His ring sits on your finger all nice and pretty, and though you signed your marriage license under a different name—your own rather than the name of his actual intended—that Price hadn’t even bothered confirming, you are, for all intents and purposes, his to touch as he pleases.

“I’m—” your eyes dart around, the urge to bolt a sharp and sudden compulsion lodged in your chest, “—I know I said yes, but I—there’s always the possibility of an a-annulment if we don’t…if…”

You flinch, startled, when he pulls you into his chest only to cup your face again. He has big hands with callused fingers, rough against your skin. Up close, you can see the way his beard is cropped closer than his mustache and mutton chops. It gives him a grim air, almost somber until you catch his eyes staring down at you with an affection that feels unearned, meant for someone else.

“Deep breaths, darling, there’s nothing to fret about just yet. You’ll work yourself into a state like this,” he murmurs, dropping his head to sip a kiss from your lips again.

You’ve been in a state since the moment you walked into the sheriff’s office and laid eyes on this man. Turned around and knocked sideways, like you’ve walked into a storybook without noticing. If only it hadn’t all been so sudden, you might’ve been able to approach the situation with a clearer head. You might’ve been able to think up some other way out of it beyond giving Price a fake name and waiting anxiously for your true identity to be painstakingly drawn out over the course of a week.

“Don’t know why you keep working yourself up,” Price says softly, then slots your lips together for another tender kiss. “Figured you might be a little skittish, but…’m gonna be such a good husband for you, honey. Not gonna want for nothing.”

His slow kisses drag out longer than back in the courthouse, languorous and decadent. As if he has all the time in the world now. In a way, he does, now that he’s helped collect your belongings from the inn and brought you home. When you think of pulling away, the hand wrapped around your wrist lets go and slides to your back, pulling you flush against his chest. Your breasts flatten against his chest, pulse skittering like mad when you feel the hardest of his chest against yours and the muscle holding you in place.

You can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips when the hand on your cheek slides to the nape of your neck and grips, holding you in place. The kiss deepens, the heat on your cheeks feeling palpably hot, vision swimming until your eyes have no choice but to flutter shut. Your suitcase sits forgotten somewhere in the dirt, toppled over onto its side. You pant low, hot breaths into his mouth when he breaks the kiss, letting his lips just hover over yours.

“There we go, darlin’,” Price mumbles against your mouth, sliding the hand on your low back down to grip the plump flesh of your ass through your dress, lips twitching when you make a broken, affronted sound. “Isn’ that better? Not thinkin’ so hard?”

You can’t think at all, in truth. When he kisses you again, your thoughts evaporate up into the clouds, the tongue licking into your mouth dispelling any ideas or notions you might’ve had. It disappears into the heat and lust and the fingers digging into your backside, groping at the flesh there without shame or compunction. You go with him when he clutches you closer, gasping again into his mouth when you feel something hard press against your low belly. He grunts when you twitch against it.

“John—John—” you gasp, pulling your mouth away and whimpering when he chases after you, letting him steal another wet, slick kiss before your trembling hands clutch at the fabric of his shirt. “Enough—it’s not—it’s not proper—”

“No prying eyes around here,” he grunts. “‘Sides, who’s going to tell a man he can’t kiss his own wife?”

Trembling all the harder at his words, you dig your nails into his shirt sleeves and hope you pinch the skin underneath. All twisted up inside. The ring on your finger glimmers when it catches the light, brighter even than the sun this close to your face. When Price feels your nails dig into his arms, he groans, fingers pressing harder into your bottom and making you squeak. All the pent up lust finally trickling out of him and into you.

“C’mon, honey, let’s get you inside.” He finally lets you go after giving your bottom lip one last wet suck, pulling it into his mouth while his half-lidded eyes stare into yours. It’s somehow more intimate than kissing.

You’re still reeling when he turns around to pick your suitcase off the ground, certain that your knees will give way and send you tumbling as well. Every point of contact on your body sizzles, aches. You watch from outside of yourself as he turns back to you, suitcase in his hand now, eyes still dark and fixed on you. Hungry. Your eyes widen when they flit down to find a thick bulge at the crotch of his pants.

Like a cold bucket of water has been dumped over your head, you hiss and back up three steps when he takes a step towards you. “Oh no, you don’t take one step closer! I won’t have anything to do with—with that!”

You must look like some feral barn cat, back all puffed up, teeth bared to the man trying to coax you towards him. Price must see it too because he grins, amused. “Still spittin’ mad, huh? Felt those claws in me before, darlin’…gonna love feeling them with nothing between us.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Price doesn’t bother clearing anything up, but you intuit it the second he takes another step in your direction, whirling around and sprinting towards the house. It feels counterproductive to seek shelter in the man’s house, but dusty plains stretch out in every direction apart from back into town, where you know not a soul will lift a finger to help you. His house is the only shelter you’re going to get.

You hurry up the porch stairs, tearing open the door before glancing over your shoulder to find Price not far behind. He advances on you at a walking pace, but each stride of his long legs matches two of yours, making you shriek and scurry up the staircase. You dart for the first open door you see, slamming it shut behind you and leaning your whole weight against it. Glancing down, you perk up at the sight of a lock on the door before flipping it.

It’s not long before the sound of boots clomping up the staircase meets your ears, headed straight in your direction. You shake when you hear him pause right outside the door, then startle when he tries the knob.

“You gonna let me in, darling?” Price asks, grin in his voice. Even raps his knuckle against the door for good measure.

“No,” you snap.

“Not even for your things? Got your suitcase right here.” You hear him set it down, a little clunk against the wood floor.

“I can manage like this. I’ve slept in my dress before.”

He pauses. “Have you?”

You tilt your chin up proudly despite the door blocking his view. “Yes, and I don’t mind doing it again. You can just stay on the other side of that door until you…until you put that thing away.”

“Can’t do much about that thing, darling; it’s sort of grown on me over the years anyway,” Price chuckles. “Well, not much I can do with it behind this door. I’ll go tend the horses ‘till suppertime comes ‘round and then come back to tend to you.”

“Licentious…reprobate,” you hiss through the door.

He laughs, the sound deep in his throat. Your stomach flips.

The stairs creak under the weight of his boots as he descends back downstairs. You wait until you hear the front door open and shut behind him, until the house is completely quiet save for the blood pumping in your ears before you hastily unlock the door and dart a hand out just to pull your suitcase in. You shut and lock the door as soon as it passes the threshold.

It takes a while to settle your nerves and for the trembling to subside. In the meantime, you sit on your bottom at the foot of the door, with your back still pressed firmly to the wood, and take stock. There’s a bed in the room, one you hadn’t noticed in your mad scramble to lock yourself in. A bigger bed than the one you’d slept on back at the inn, but just as sparse, with gray flannel sheets and a blue quilt folded and draped over the end of the bed.

The rest of the furniture in the room—two end tables, a chest of drawers, a desk, and two chairs situated in the corner of the room—appears so consistent in its design that you have to wonder if Price made them by hand as well. Hardly a reason to question it. You think to yourself that you’ll have to ask him how he finds the time only to quickly shake that thought away. Can’t be getting too chummy, certainly not if you don’t expect to be around in a month’s time. Hopefully less than that.

You chew on your lip at the thought of fleeing in the night.

It trickles into your thoughts while you open your suitcase on the bed and riffle around for your nightwear. Price will likely keep you under lock and key for at least the first week of your marriage, giving you little opportunity to take off any time soon. If only you’d held your tongue and played the demure bride, he might’ve had some cause to trust you. Certainly not now, after your most recent display.

Your own stupid fault, as usual. It’s not the first time your temper has gotten the better of you. You’ve faced worse consequences for it.

Outside the window on the far end of the room, a horse whinnies. You pause, remembering that Price hadn’t gone very far. When you glance out curiously, you see him letting the horses into the pen, giving one a good rub down the bridge of its nose. The horses seem to melt under his touch.

It’s strange watching him from far away. From a distance, it’s hard to reconcile him with the man that bent you over his desk not an hour ago and tanned your bottom. You cringe at the memory. It’s not that Price doesn’t seem like a man that would take his wife over his knee if he saw fit to do so, but you still can’t imagine yourself as that woman. When you think about it, it feels like a play, something you saw happen to someone else. Not you wailing and squirming like a cat in heat.

As if feeling your stare, he glances up at the window and winks when he catches your eye. With a squeak, you leap away from the window, scurrying back over to the bed.

A couple hours pass in restless contemplation, practically biting your nails to the quick. Eyeing the windowsill like you still might go over there just to check on what Price is up to outside. You hear him come back into the house once or twice, tensing up at the sound of his boots, only to be left vaguely disappointed when you hear him leave and the screen door slam shut behind him.

You spend so long holed up in the bedroom that you miss lunch entirely. Below you, you hear Price puttering around downstairs in the kitchen—the sound of a knife chopping vegetables and then the sizzle of meat on a pan. The hunger pangs nearly make you break, but you’ve gone without food before.

Your heart skips a beat when you hear him ascend the staircase again and place something just outside of your door. He doesn’t try coaxing you out this time, just heads back down the stairs and out the front door. Again, you ignore the pang of disappointment; ignore the urge to open the door and holler down the stairs for him to stay gone.

He leaves anyway.

Curiosity needles at you though, so you open the door up a crack when you’re sure you’re alone. There’s a plate at the foot of the door with vegetables and meat, slightly cooled but still fresh, the plate still warm. He must’ve known you wouldn’t try coming downstairs and fixed you up a plate.

You eat in silence at the desk, bad mood ripening. Angry at yourself and everyone else. Even John. Especially John. The audacity of fixing you up a plate, of thinking of you in the first place. Irritated enough to stand boldly by the window this time, hand clutched in the curtain, tracking the movement of his shoulders and hips when he moves with the horses and fetches water from the well. You lose sight of him a couple times as he finishes up the day’s chores around the house, but the flutter in your belly always settles when he comes back into view.

It’s easy to let yourself admire him from afar, somehow less humiliating without his eyes on you. He’s a solid man, body carved into its shape from the rough labor that’s part and parcel of living out on the frontier. A wide back tapering down to lean, narrow hips and thick, muscled thighs hewn from lifting and pulling and all manner of physical work. You bite your lip when you remember what it felt like to cling to that back and dig your nails into his arms.

You give your head a shake. It’s dangerous to let a thought like that latch on.

In the few hours between lunch and sunset, you occupy yourself by reading one of the books stowed away in your suitcase. Then get bored and refold your clothes. The horses bray when they’re taken into the stables for the evening. The crickets out in the bushes in the yard chirp as the sun sets pink in the far distance. It’s quieter out here in the plains than back in the city, you think, something you haven’t yet had the time to appreciate.

When Price comes in for the night, you’re firm in your resolve to keep the door shut. If lunch at the door was just an attempt to butter you up, he has another thing coming. In a house this big, there’s likely a guest room or somewhere else to sleep—a sofa or a sleeping bag tucked away under the stairs. He’ll just have to make do while you take the bedroom. There’ll be no sharing a bed with the man that grabbed your backside like a piece of meat.

He doesn’t come up the stairs right away. Like before, you hear him rustle up supper, spatula scraping against a pan and knife coming down on a chopping block again and again. Not enough time has passed since lunch for you to feel more than peckish. You’re thankful for that when you hear him sit down to eat.

The knock at the door startles you. You hadn’t heard him come up the stairs. “Ready to talk now?”

You stare balefully at the door. “No.”

“We have to figure this out sometime, darling.”

“No, we don’t.”

“I’m sorry if I gave you a fright earlier, but, honey, that’s how husbands kiss their wives. Nothing improper about it.”

“I’m not frightened, I’m just not—we don’t need to do any of that,” you huff, embarrassed all over again. “You’ve hardly given me any time to even think. I didn’t know you from Adam this morning and now we’re married.”

Price sighs, the sound muffled through the door. “What am I going to do with you, honey?” It’s said to himself, a fond exasperation that puts you on edge all over again. He has no right to be amused with you, no right to be delighted and charmed by your ire.

“Well, you can sleep somewhere else for the time being. I’d prefer the bed to myself.”

He lets out a low, dark laugh. “There’s not a chance in hell that I’m sleeping anywhere but with my wife from this point on. You oughta come to terms with that quick.”

“Well then, you can sleep out there because I’m not unlocking the door!”

He lets out a mean sound, almost mocking. “Yeah, ‘bout time I addressed that, huh?”

His words make you frown until you hear a floorboard creak as Price does something on the other side of the door. Then the doorknob jiggles. Horrified, you watch as the door unlocks and the knob turns, your husband’s body filling out the door frame. You’d forgotten how well he could fill one out. He almost has to duck to come inside, mused hair from working outside all day brushing against the top of the frame.

“Always put a key on the top of the door, just in case,” he explains, pinching the little silver key between his thumb and forefinger before shutting the door. Your heart jumps when he locks it behind him. “Ready to talk now, honey?”

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