#World Finals Rodeo

[icelynodette]

NFR Vegas 2023

[chxrryhansen]

౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ Cherry’s Cevans Series Rec List

thought i’d make a list of all the best cevans (characters) series i have read!! i have lots more to add and will continue to update this list🫶🏻 i will also create a one shot fic rec list in the near future💖💘💞

Preying On You Tonight - @evansbby

“Steve is the cocky, brash and domineering alpha who makes your life at university a living hell every day. You’re the complete opposite - quiet, meek and reserved. You’re convinced Steve hates you, but what happens when he finds out you have a boyfriend? (a/b/o dynamics)”

Wicked Games - @evansbby

Ari is the campus fuckboy and you’re his little plaything. But he’s telling the truth when he says he’s going to make you his girlfriend soon, right?

What A World - @onsunnyside

S.H.I.E.L.D. had a lot of secrets, you just never expected one of them to be an actual person—a blue-eyed giant, wild manbeast at that. [tarzan!Steve Rogers x doctor!reader, nomad!steve, size difference]

Just Because I Won’t Die For You, Doesn’t Mean I Won’t Kill For You - @dbnightingale24

Lloyd Hansen is just another job for you. Your last job. However, when he decides that he wants to take you for a ride and have a good time, well...how’s a girl supposed to say no?

Closer To Heaven And Closer To You - @georgiapeach30513

When your boyfriend, Ransom wants to take a trip back home to the ranch to meet your family, you are unsure.  Knowing that a rodeo is in town could only mean your ex, Frank Adler, was most likely riding for eight seconds, still trying to beat his best friend, Steve Rogers.  All you wanted was a nice time, not old memories bothering your brain.

Just Like The Caged Bird - @georgiapeach30513

You are a widow who moves back to her husband's hometown after selling your in Georgia home.  Moving in above your brother in law's garage.  Sharing the space with his friend Bucky Barnes, but your other brother-in-law Andy causes problems, along with your overprotective brothers.

Pretty Petals - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

You go on a self-improvement retreat, but not all is as it seems. (multi-character)

His Koala Bear - @kinanabinks

you and steve have been best friends since you were 5. for the longest time, he has wanted so much more from you. and it's getting harder for him to stop himself from taking it.

Belong Here - @angrythingstarlight

Steve has been looking for his perfect girl and suddenly there you are stuck in this dingy restaurant. You don't belong here, you belong with him.

Finding Home - @navybrat817

Steve finds a home with you. (lumberjack Au)

Their Doll - @kaiparker-avengerssmut

y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

No Better Than Beast’s - @lokislastlove

You’re an animal rights activist who sets out to put an end to animal testing… but it’s a risky mission. (Dark!Steve Rogers)

Doppelgänger - @boxofbonesfic

Your husband’s twin brother has always made you uncomfortable, and after two years of marriage, you finally find out why. (Dark!Ransom Drysdale + Dark!Lloyd Hansen)

Million Dollar Man - @chrisevansgoodgirl

your relationship with ransom and his insane family.

Brooklyn’s Sweetheart - @spacesnail3000

Bucky and Steve had always been meant to keep her safe and happy. As far as anyone else was concerned, that was their sole reason for being alive. Unfortunately, the things that kept her safe were not always the things that kept her happy. Lately, she was making it pretty damn hard for them to compromise.

Let It Snow - @spacesnail3000

She was his Omega, and Steve had a plan. She would love him. He knew she would.

Sweet Renegade - @cevansbrat0007

A new arrival in town leads to an unexpected complication in the form of a sexy as sin Bounty Hunter named Ari Levinson.

Evergreen, Evermore - @babyjakes

loving husbands jake and ari had always believed they were all each other could ever want or need. but one unusual summer, when their world is turned upside-down by an uncanny girl from down the street, they find that having someone to love, nurture, and care for together is the missing piece that finally completes their perfect family and lives.

A Huckleberry Is Nothing Without His Hummingbird - @dbnightingale24

Lloyd and Y/N have been amicably(ish) divorced for four years. However, when earth shattering trauma come their way, will they lean into what they truly want, or will the flames from past traumas still burn too bright?

Civil war- Brooklyn - @saiyanprincessswanie

Ten years ago the Readers world was turned upside down when her father was killed by Hydras Brock Rumlow. She believes the loves of her life Steve Rogers and James “Bucky” Barnes were also killed while trying to avenge her fathers death. Reader is now working for the FBI on a task force that is meant to take down Hydra. She volunteers to go undercover to take down Hydra. In doing so she not only puts herself in the cross hairs with Rumlow but she gets to meet the mystery men causing Hydra issues. Who are the Captain and Winter Soldier? What lengths will you go through to uncover the truth and seek revenge?

The Boston Brute - @time-for-a-lullaby

When you graduated from Northeastern University, you had your sights set on the West Coast. And then you were offered a position with the Boston Bruins Athletic Training Department. And then you met Chris. A 6′3″, ruggedly handsome hockey player dead set on making your life a living hell by pushing every button and getting on every nerve. Despite your obvious disdain for each other and the ‘No Fraternization’ clause in your employee contract, you’re drawn together in a passionate, fiery love affair that seems to burn everything in its wake. 

Planet Evans Universe - @astranva

In which Chris was a nervous mess when he met his A+ list celebrity crush, highest-paid, and the most iconic actress, you, at Vanity Fair’s 2014 after party. (Following the life of overprotective!dad!Chris x wife!actress!reader!)

Don’t Speak - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (Dark!Andy Barber)

Cat and Mouse - @queen-of-the-avengers

You’re called the Vixen because you were HYDRA’s favorite creation. You’re very hard to catch, and once you are, it’s even harder to keep you.

Let’s Ride - @starryevermore

You’re a single mom and have just moved into a new town. You have no interest in looking for love, but the funny thing about love is, it waits for no one. (Biker!Ari Levinson)

Out Of The Darkness - @sunshinexsin

Sienna Jons has lived in Boston for three years now after graduating and is running her own salon in the city. With a small group of friends sticking by her side, she's content with her life. Enter Chris Evans, a known and feared mob boss in Boston’s underground crime world. Coming out of a long relationship ended in a bitter divorce, Chris isn’t looking for anything serious until Sienna crosses his path. Trying to win her over proves difficult for the man who seemingly has it all and Sienna is not willing to be with someone who causes such destruction in his own hometown. Sienna soon finds herself entangled in the crazy, violent world of the mob and struggles to find a way to either live with the hardened man Chris has always been or get away from him before her own life spirals out of control.

Murder He Wrote - @wiypt-writes

You’re sent by your asshole boss to do a review of a Celebrity Host Haunted Mansion, hosted by none-other than the arrogant, wild-eye browed actor Lucas Lee, but you’re worried you’ve missed the boat…that is, until at the last minute, an email arrives to say they can let you in on the last admission that night, which just happens to be Halloween. (Dark!Ransom Drysdale)

Poison Paradise - @the-iceni-bitch

Robert Pronge was sure he could settle for a fake domestic life as long as he could go on killing. Little did he know that you could give him everything he needed.

A Bun In The Oven - @witchywithwhiskey

the leaves are changing—green fading into golden yellow, burnt orange and radiant red—and the days are getting shorter and colder as autumn settles in. it's the perfect time of year for baked goods, fall foliage, book stores, and to curl up next to (and get under) our favorite man with a plan, steve rogers

Wilford’s Demands - @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

Wilford places you in Curtis’ care so he can impregnate you.

In The Balance - @goodgirlofglory

One unsuspecting evening, the stranger Steve Rogers appears bloodied and in need of aid at your doorstep. You immediately catch his eye, and he forces himself upon you within the hour. Several months of repeated visits from him results in your pregnancy, and the night you find out, Steve intereceps you on your way to an abortion clinic and kidnaps you to his mansion. Will you carry the child to term? Will you buckle under the pressure of capitivity? Will you escape the grasp Steve has on you, or will you submit to it and your own, conflicted desires?

Drowning Siren - @rogerswifesblog

The Avengers found an old abandoned HYDRA base, that had been cleared after HYDRAs existence had been exposed. At least they thought it was cleared. It was the biggest experimental lab they had ever seen, the closest base to the ocean, full with creatures-dead creatures. Some of them laid still on tables, stripped with metal cuffs, open and already rotting. It was an awful smell. But then they heard something beautiful. A melody, a beautiful voice singing unbelievably gentle sounds. Walking into the building full with ocean creatures, they had no idea their life was about to change.

Vampire Kings Religion - @marvelcriminalhoe

In a world where fantasy beings roam every corner, the humans are on the bottom. Looked at as weak and disgraceful. The vampires are the opposite. They rule the land, and all of the creatures that take part of it. the current ruler, King Steven, has ruled for more than 150 years, alone. After many nights, and long talks with his most trusted hands, he comes to the long awaited decision that he will finally, take a wife. All female creatures, are to be evaluated, so he can find his perfect match. Of course, no one expects for him to choose a human. Especially not one from the church. Especially not the daughter, of the leader, of the church. The same church that detests the mythical creatures, wishing for nothing more than for them to perish in fire. How could this union possibly end well?

Ride And Prejudice - @pagesoflauren

A take on Pride & Prejudice, certain circumstances in your life have led you to take refuge and work in a farm village, particularly on the ranch owned by Steve Rogers. He doesn’t take kindly to you, having bad perceptions about city folk. Your only reaction to that is the one you deem acceptable: get annoyed at every little thing he does whilst doing your best to annoy him and still keep your job.

Love On The Brain - @howardpotts

You’re just a student, living her normal daily life in New York. One night changes everything, without you even knowing. Steve Rogers slowly introduces you to his world full of money, drugs and voilence. But are you able to handle what he has to offer? (MobBoss!Steve Rogers)

Flamingo King - @onsunnyside

The sun is brutal this summer, especially in Flamingo Trailer Park, the land of big hearts and cheap tricks, you’ve been here for years unlike your “new” neighbour, Ari. He’s older, bigger, and intimidating, the local rockstar, and you, well, aren’t you just the sweetest girl in the whole damn city?

Make It A December To Remember - @imyourbratzdoll

AGE AND SIZE DIFFERENCE IS ADDED TO ALL! SANTA AND THE GRINCH ARE LARGER THAN THE READER! THE ELVES ARE THE SIZE OF HER PALM! (a chris evans xmas universe)

This Love Is Bad - @wildestdreamsblog

You were just trying to escape your past, and Ari was trying to chase his future.

Nowhere To Run - @sagechanoafterdark

On the last day that Steve spent in your small town before heading off to basic training for the army, he made sure it was one you wouldn’t ever forget. Years later when he appears in your town he seems like a changed man in more ways than one, but you’re ready to show him that you’ve never forgotten that day. (Dark!Steve Rogers+ Bucky Barnes)

Nice To Be Kneaded - @rogersideup

Almost every news station in the country was covering the chase for the missing superheroes post-raft-escape following the Civil War. Steve Rogers face had been plastered on the cover of every news paper, fliers stapled to street lamps, posted on bulletin boards in what felt like every coffee shop in the country. It had been just a few long months shy of a year, just long enough to grow out his hair and beard to make himself as unrecognizable as he could manage. Though he was still the poster boy of disorder within the states, he found himself in the scanty town of Greenwood in the house right next to yours.

Forever And Ever More - @syntheticavenger

Ransom Drysdale may be Boston’s most eligible Alpha who has his eyes set on you. With his inheritance hanging in the balance, he won’t take no for an answer, whether you like him or not.

Hackers Heart - @bakugousaysdie

steve rogers has always been america’s golden boy, leading earth’s mightiest heroes and serving his country. you have always been bad with boundaries, a little too curious, and an absolute disruption. you are an absolute menace,so it’s only right you fell in love with the most adored man in the country.

Arranged - @time-for-a-lullaby

Living in this life, you’ve never gotten to have much say in anything. What you wear, who you hang out with, and now, who you marry and you’re dreading your arranged marriage to the Italian mob boss, Chris Evans. Expecting to suffer through a life of abuse while being kept under lock and key, you’re pleasantly surprised when Chris is nothing like you expected. He’s the most feared man on the East Coast, only brought to his knees by one thing and one thing only. You.

[norrisainz33]

Southern belle || CL16

☆ summary: charles’ and oscar’s rumored girlfriend is the it girl in country music and with the austin grand prix approaching fans wonder if they’ll finally know who she’s with

☆ pairing: charles leclerc x american!singer!reader

☆ fc & warnings: megan moroney and slightly suggestive - you are responsible for the content you consume

☆ requested: yes!! thank you for this request 🤍

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynuser has made a post

liked by sabrinacarpenter, charlesleclerc, oscarpiastri, patriciooward, formula1, arianagrande and 301,356 others

ynuser: huge announcement 🚨 i’m singing the national anthem at the austin grand prix!!! i can’t wait to see y’all there but in the meantime, i’m practicing my driving 🏎️🤍

view all 364 comments

user1: ohhhhhh my god yessss

user2: everyone peep both oscar and charles in the likes…..

user22: begging for new music queen 😭

formula1: quick someone get her seat on the grid

ynuser: put me in coach!

scuderiaferrari: you’re always welcome to join us for the weekend 😉

mclarenf1: or you can join us 🧡

user4: taking note of both ferrari and mclaren being here 💀

user3: MY FAV ARTIST AT MY FIRST GP?! IT DOESNT GET BETTER THAN THIS

patriciooward: see you there princessa

ynuser: can’t wait 🤍

user4: and why do none of yall think they’re together??

sabrinacarpenter: prettiest girl in the world

ynuser: says you,, a literal goddess

user6: y/n/n this is huge!!! i’m so excited for you

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, and 7,293 others

f1gossip: y/n y/l/n dropped a new song today and all signs say these lyrics could be about our very own charles leclerc. she sang this song for the first time today in atlanta while wearing a shirt that says “i 🤍 my situationship.” this comes after rumors of the pairing secretly seeing each other after being photographed together briefly in a miami nightclub. do we think the man who ‘isn’t from where she’s from and feels like home’ is a certain monegasque ferrari driver?

view all 435 comments

user1: first of all the shirt is absolutely iconic and i will be buying one exactly like it

user1: second of all i honestly hope she is talking abt charles

user2: idk the fact that the song is called tennessee orange makes me think it could be oscar… didn’t he also get rumored to be with her?

user3: omg it could be oscar!

user1: why would you guys think it’s oscar???

user2: user1 i think it’s because of that video mclaren posted where oscar and lando had to guess the lyrics to songs and one of y/n’s songs was played and oscar sang like the entire thing and lando was like umm??? and oscar turned beat red and said he really liked y/n

user1: ohhhhh my goodness ok i didn’t see that video. begging one of you to do a breakdown of all the info we have for oscar vs charles

user2: i got you , lemme make a twitter thread brb

user14: did y’all consider that this song is truly about a man from tennessee

user3: no! hope this helps!!

user4: ever since she dropped the lore that she loves f1 y’all have been grasping at straws to connect her to a driver fr

user34: do we think she could get him to a rodeo? i’d die to see charles at one

user7: praying with everything that i have that we get an answer abt who she is with at cota

user5: obsessed with this level of delulu from you f1gossip

user8: could you imagine the charles leclerc being your situationship???? i mean wow

ynuser has added to their story

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user1: why is everything you do so hot

user2: i wish i could see if oscar or charles swiped up

_quinnhughes: how about you come visit me next?

ynuser: i have heard vancouver is nice this time of year

charlesleclerc: oh wow

ynuser: 🤭🤭🤭

charlesleclerc: you’re more than welcome to take me for a ride after you’re done there

oscarpiastri: need some pointers on how to do this myself

ynuser: it’s all in the hips osc

oscarpiastri: noted

user12: i’m obsessed with you

user13: ok! cool girls ride mechanical bulls! taking notes 📝

user14: thank you for being so sweet at the bar this evening and taking a picture with us!! you are literally the nicest person in the world 🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

ynuser has posted to their story

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user3: IM HERE AND IM READY!! YOU ARE GONNA EAT UP THAT NATIONAL ANTHEM

user6: RAHHHHH AMERICA 🇺🇸 🦅🇺🇸🦅🇺🇸🦅🇺🇸

oscarpiastri: hoping you are my good luck charm y/n

ynuser: wishing you a safe race ossie 🧡

user8: ugh youre in blue you were supposed to be in red or papaya to confirm which boy you’re with

charlesleclerc: i think you’d look amazing in ferrari red

ynuser: you think so?

charlesleclerc: i know so

iamrebeccad: i can’t wait to see you later

ynuser: likewise 🤍

yourbff: you’re living the dream, i miss you bestie

ynuser: i miss you more. please come visit me soon 😭

user13: so excited for you gorgeous girl

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, yourbff, user5, user6, and 12,345 others

f1gossip: charles and oscar were stood next to each other during y/n’s rendition of the american national anthem and didn’t even look at each other once during the entire thing. do we think there’s trouble in paradise between the father son pair? could both of them be pining over the same gorgeous american princess?

view all 333 comments

user2: them standing next to each other is diabolical

user8: she IS america’s sweetheart and i just hope whatever boy she’s with is treating her right

user6: the way she was unphased and just pranced right on by them in her little cowgirl boots… iconic

user3: i was praying that she was going to stop and wish one of them good luck

user14: guys have we CONSIDERED that just bc she likes the sport and the drivers know who she is doesn’t necessarily mean she’s with one of them?!

user1: imma hold your hand when i say this

user22: my money is on one of them winning and kissing her in celebration

user33: my money is on them being secretly photographed at an after party

user44: tbh my money is on nothing being confirmed this weekend

user23: you better put some respect on my girls name and at least mention how she NAILED that anthem

charlesleclerc has made a post

liked by scuderiaferrari, landonorris, maxverstappen1, carlossainz55, ynuser, yourbff and 634,910 others

charlesleclerc: thank you austin for a fantastic weekend

view all 999 comments

user7: OHHHH MY GOD

user2: i know that’s my girl y/n!!!!!! that’s y/n!!!!! you can’t convince me otherwise!!!

user1: it’s her 😭😭 war is over 😭😭😭

scuderiaferrari: congratulations on a great weekend ❤️

user3: she put him in a cowboy hat i’m screaming

maxverstappen1: 👀

charlesleclerc: 🥰

carlossainz55: who is that in the last photo? surely not you

charlesleclerc: it is me in the last photo!

carlossainz55: your pants are oddly tight there

user16: i love a cl16 podium

ynuser: who’s that cowboy?

charlesleclerc: your cowboy

user2: STOP IT

f1gossip: and y’all didn’t believe me

user73: someone check on oscar

landonorris: lmfao they’re all friends it’s ok

user2: LANDO IS ALWAYS AT THE WCENE OF THE CRIME

user24: prettiest boy on the podium as always

charlesleclerc has posted to his story

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user44: glad she stayed true and is wearing a football shirt and not ferrari merch

maxverstappen1: feeling a little betrayed that i’m finding out with the rest of the world. WHY DIDNT YOU TELL ME

charlesleclerc: mate i didn’t tell anyone

maxverstappen1: but i’m not just anyone 😔

yourbff: my beautiful girl - you better be good to her

charlesleclerc: i will be don’t worry!

user2: the confirmation i needed im obsessed with you both

ynuser: will always wear red for you charlie 😘

charlesleclerc: that’s my girl ❤️

user4: who’s this diva

user14: whelp i didn’t see this coming

carlossainz55: get her in a ferrari cap asap! also rebecca says you need to bring her to more races

charlesleclerc: trust me if i had it my way she’d be at all of them

user55: an american princess and a monegasque prince… a perfect match

ynuser has made a post

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ynuser: mama i like him a lot 🤭 (p.s i’ve always looked better in red)

view all 867 comments

user6: can the european mind even comprehend texas and college football y/n?

yourbff: well… we’re all about to find out!

user2: brb sobbing this is so cute

landonorris: how did you convince him to put on a cowboy hat???

ynuser: it wasn’t easy that’s for sure

user3: my 2 fav things colliding. y/n and f1 ,,, i used to pray for times like this

charlesleclerc: and i like you a lot

ynuser: 🤭 i’m so glad you do

charlesleclerc: it’s simply impossible not to

user67: mama y papa

user89: i can’t believe you’ve fallen for a vroom vroom that isn’t in nascar

scuderiaferrari: welcome to the family y/n ❤️

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs appreciated 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[seresinhangmanjake]

Late Date

Summary: It’s your birthday and Tyler’s going to do some wrangling to make sure no tornado can ruin your day. Unfortunately, that also makes him and the Wranglers a bit late to your party. 

Notes/Warnings: Fluff. It’s not angsty at all, despite how the summary may sound. Inaccurate meteorology/tornado stuff. Slight jealousy. This is based on a lyrics request: “you’ve got long hair slicked back white t shirt and I’ve got that good girl faith and a tight little skirt.” It’s just meant to be kinda cute, and I did my best, so hopefully you guys like it. Comments make my entire world, so if you do like it, let me know :)

Words: 1650

Tyler Owens Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag List

It happens often. You and Tyler are enjoying your time together when Disaster suddenly puts you in her path. A picnic in the park, a late-evening rodeo, a dinner date for him to meet your mother—all ruined. And yes, you believe Disaster does this intentionally. Disaster, in the form of a funnel of warm air and moisture, is as much in love with your boyfriend as you are, and she’s a jealous bitch, always calling him away when he’s in the throes of life with you. 

Luckily for Tyler, you’re not as jealous as his tornado. You’re not as greedy. When he leaves you to meet her, you let him go because he’s the town hero, and you don’t let your emotions get in the way of his job. After all, he does what he does to save the things he loves—this town, his family, you. And regardless of the time he spends with her, you know you’re his number one. 

Today, however, you could do without his job. The jealousy that you have rarely felt up to this point seeps through as he throws your favorite white t-shirt of his over his sculpted chest before buckling the belt wrapped around his jean-clad hips. He stomps one foot down into his boot and then the other before rifling through the dresser chest at the base of the bed.

“You have to do this on my birthday?” you ask, trying not to pout from your seated position on the mattress. The silk sleeve of your robe falls down your shoulder, exposing bare skin, and despite the chill, you don’t pull the garment back up your arm. Anything to keep him in this bed, you think, and for a moment, you you’re satisfied that it might be working. Tyler pauses on his hunt for a clean flannel as his eyes glue to your chest, your pebbled nipples just barely hidden by the rest of the smooth, thin material. 

You sit up on your knees and wrap your arms around his neck, but it’s from your touch that Tyler finally blinks, shakes his head, and says, “Darlin’, wouldn’t you rather feel reassured that your evening tonight will go tornado-free? I’m just going to go with the guys, disrupt anything that’s already formed, and observe the conditions as best I can so we don’t get any coming our way when we’re supposed to be celebrating another year of your life.”

It’s hard to argue with him when he hits you with logic, but it’s made harder by the pout on his face. That is supposed to be your pout. He’s the one leaving you on your birthday—decent reason or not—not the other way around. 

“Fine,” you say.

Tyler grins from ear to ear. He leans in and captures your lips in a long kiss before pulling back and brushing your unkempt hair out of your face. “We’ll meet you at the bar, ok?”

Nodding, you say, “Yea,” and untangle your arms from his neck. He gives you one last kiss. 

“Happy Birthday, darlin’” glides to your ear in his smooth, low voice, and then he’s out the door. 

—

“He’ll be here,” your cousin tells you. You’ve been staring at the bar door for a half-hour, disappointed with each new blond cowboy who walks into the crowded space. “When has he ever let you down?”

You sigh. “I know. But why did the bitchy tornadoes have to run wild today of all days? He said they chased four between here and the next town over, and two of them put up a real fight,” you say, relaying the information of Tyler’s earlier texts. “Plus, it’s raining now. That’ll only make it more difficult for them to get back.”

The bartender offers you and your cousin the drinks she ordered. She winks at him and downs the entire glass in one gulp—which he seems to find very impressive—before nudging your glass closer to your folded hands atop the counter. 

“Well, the only thing to do is drink up,” she orders. “Might as well have fun while we wait.”

—

You’re two drinks in. Your cousin has knocked back four, and while she’s no lightweight, the effects show in the uptick of her flirtiness with the bartender. She’s agreed to wait around until his shift is over, which was quickly retracted when she remembered that it’s your birthday and the fun she is meant to be having is with you, not the hot guy who stopped charging her for drinks an hour ago. But you assuage her guilt, knowing you have no intention of hanging around a crowded bar until two in the morning unless your boyfriend is going to be with you, birthday or not. 

With the acceptance of your third drink, you hope to easier ignore the appreciative glances from the blond cowboys on the other side of the mass of dancers in the center of the room. You must be a sunny-haired, country boy’s type, but they aren’t your man, and to be honest, you’re surprised they’re daring enough to look so long. The town is small enough that you figured by now everyone knows you’re Tyler’s girl, but clearly, that’s not the case. Either that or they just don’t care. 

When you start to feel it—the slight high, the looser inhibitions—you decide the best course of action is to simply ignore them, and so you hop down from the stool and make your way to the dance floor to do exactly that, planting yourself in the middle of a group of like-minded women swaying their hips to the tune. Like that, you let yourself go, alcohol allowing you to surrender to the flow of the feminine voice coming through the speakers. Your mind drifts, your eyes close, and when you feel a hand on your waist, you think of Tyler. When hips grind against yours, you think of Tyler. When lips touch your neck, you think of Tyler. And when your eyes open, you see Tyler.

He steps into the bar with the Wranglers in tow, his soaked white t-shirt clinging to his torso that every woman—even those invested in men of their own—notices, his hands slicking back his damp locks. With a grin on his handsome face, he glances around the space in search of you, but when he finds you, that grin drops faster than a rock can hit the ground. 

It’s then that you realize the paws on your body are not his. The breath hitting behind your ear is that of a stranger. Tyler’s stomping his way over to you, but you don’t need him to release his building rage because you have plenty of your own. 

Flipping around, your palm meets the cheek of one of the knock-off Tylers. He yelps and rubs his face. His irises turn red, and he looks ready to give you a scolding or call you some sort of vile name, but his eyes widen at the shadow that suddenly looms over you and he shrinks where he stands. 

“Y-Your girlfriend?” he eeks out. 

It’s fascinating to see the demeanor shift. Tyler must have more of a reputation than you realized. You haven’t lived in town long—you moved in with him three weeks ago after a year of long-distance dating—but you’ve known for a while that he is well-loved and anyone who crosses him crosses the town. What you didn’t know was that the people’s devotion to their tornado-wrangling hero could incite such fear. And honestly, you’re a little impressed; a little turned on. 

Tilting your chin up, the back of your head lands against your boyfriend’s chest. His arm comes around your waist, hand flattening over your stomach. “You think?” he spits. 

When knock-off Tyler skitters back to the gaggle of knock-off Tylers, your Tyler turns you around to face him. With a cocked brow, he says, “Now, darlin’, what was that?”

You shrug. “Thought he was you.”

Tyler looks over your shoulder to the group of blonds. His eyes narrow. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’ve had a bit to drink,” you chuckle.

His mouth parts, an ahh sound leaving his throat as if to say, ‘That explains it.’ “Where’s your cousin?” His gaze follows yours to the familiar woman whose body is half thrown over the countertop, her lips connected to the guy whose neglect of other patrons is about to cause a riot. But you don’t care about a likely-to-be-fired bartender; you care that your boyfriend was absent for so much of your birthday.

“What took you so long?”

You’ve started to gently sway with the music again, this time taking the correct Tyler with you. Your hands clasp behind his neck as his link around your waist, pulling you in close. 

“Sorry, darlin’. It was rougher than we anticipated,” he says, and though you expected to be much more put out, you feel settled with that explanation. You’re just happy he’s with you now and not standing you up for a date with his unpredictable weather. “You look pretty,” he tells you as his palms slide down over the skirt that’s snuggly fitted around your hips. “I haven’t seen this one before.”

“Bought it today.”

“For me?”

“For me.” You roll your eyes. “But I might have guessed you’d like it.”

He hums, gaze raking appreciate up your body to your mouth. “I do,” he says, then he presses his lips to yours. However, remembering the scarlet hue coating your lips, you quickly pull back. 

“Your whole mouth is going to be red if you keep kissing me.”

Tyler’s brow pinches. One hand’s fingers glide up your body and slip between the strands of your hair. “Good,” he says. “Then people will know we’re a matching set.”

[littlelamy]

more cowboy rafe pls 🙏🏾🙏🏾, maybe one where he wins first place in the bull riding competition and they celebrate after, maybe a bj fic 👀

lamy's note: hope you enjoy it!!!

the night sky stretched endless above the rodeo grounds, a sprawling canvas of stars winking down at the bustling crowd. the smell of dirt and leather filled the air, the sound of cheers and stomping boots reverberating through the stands as the crowd roared for the final event of the evening. bull riding. the main event.

you stood by the fence, your fingers curled around the worn wooden rail, heart pounding in time with the anticipation that buzzed through the crowd. your eyes never left him—cowboy rafe, the rugged, daring man who had stolen your breath and made your pulse race every time he so much as glanced your way.

he was in the center of the ring now, perched on the back of a massive, thrashing bull, his hat tilted low over his brow, his muscles taut beneath the snug fabric of his shirt. his jaw was set, eyes focused, every inch of him exuding confidence and control. this was his world, where danger was a dance partner, and victory was just a heartbeat away.

"hold tight, rafe!" someone shouted from the sidelines as the gate flung open, and the bull charged into the arena with a fury unmatched.

the crowd held its breath, watching as rafe moved with the beast, his body fluid and controlled, as if he and the bull were part of the same wild, untamed force. every buck, every twist, every second felt like an eternity, the tension mounting as the eight-second mark approached.

when the buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the ride, the crowd erupted into applause. rafe leapt from the bull's back with practiced ease, landing on his feet, a victorious grin spreading across his face as he tipped his hat to the cheering masses.

you couldn't stop the smile that spread across your lips, your heart swelling with pride and something deeper, something hotter that simmered just beneath the surface.

as the crowd surged forward to congratulate him, rafe's eyes found yours, a flicker of something dark and knowing sparking in his gaze. he made his way through the throng, his boots kicking up dust as he closed the distance between you.

"didn't know i had such a pretty fan watchin' me," he drawled, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his shirt clinging to the hard lines of his chest, and the sheer presence of him so close made your breath hitch.

"first place, huh?" you teased, trying to keep your voice steady, though your body was already thrumming with anticipation.

he smirked, stepping closer, his fingers brushing against your arm. "you proud of me, darlin'?"

"maybe a little," you murmured, your cheeks heating as his touch lingered, his hand slipping around your waist to pull you closer.

"thought maybe we could celebrate... just the two of us," he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

your knees went weak at the suggestion, a wave of heat washing over you as you nodded, unable to find your voice. he took your hand, leading you away from the noise and the lights, to a quiet spot behind the barn, where the only sound was the rustle of the wind through the grass and the distant hum of the crowd.

the shadows stretched long around you, the moon casting a silvery glow over his features as he turned to face you, his eyes dark with desire.

"been thinkin' 'bout this all damn day," he murmured, his hands cupping your face as he kissed you, slow and deep, his tongue sweeping into your mouth in a way that made you melt against him.

your hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, eager to feel the warmth of his skin beneath your palms. he groaned into your mouth as your fingers traced over the hard planes of his chest, his hands sliding down to grip your hips, pulling you flush against him.

"want you, rafe," you whispered, your voice trembling with need as you dropped to your knees before him, your fingers working at the buckle of his belt, the heat of him already pressing against you through the fabric of his jeans.

he cursed under his breath, his hands tangling in your hair as you freed him, his length hard and throbbing in your hand. you glanced up at him through your lashes, your lips curling into a teasing smile before you leaned in, your tongue flicking out to taste him.

"fuck," he groaned, his grip tightening as you took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the head before sliding down his shaft, taking him as deep as you could.

his hips bucked, a guttural moan escaping his lips as you hollowed your cheeks, the wet heat of your mouth driving him wild. you moved slowly at first, savoring the way he shuddered beneath your touch, the way his breathing grew ragged with every bob of your head.

"you're gonna be the death of me, darlin'," he rasped, his voice thick with pleasure as he watched you, his hand guiding your movements as you set a steady rhythm, the sounds of your mouth on him filling the air.

you moaned around him, the vibrations making him groan, his hand tightening in your hair as he thrust into your mouth, his control slipping with every second. the taste of him, the feel of him, the way he trembled and cursed your name—it was intoxicating, your own arousal pooling between your thighs as you took him deeper, faster, your own need building with every desperate sound that escaped his lips.

"gonna come, baby," he warned, his voice hoarse as he teetered on the edge, his hips snapping forward in a frenzy of need. "fuck, you're too good... too perfect..."

you hummed in response, your tongue swirling around him one last time as he spilled into your mouth, his release hot and salty as you swallowed him down, milking him for every drop. his body shuddered, his head thrown back as he rode out the waves of pleasure, his hands cradling your face as he gazed down at you with a mixture of awe and adoration.

"c'mere," he murmured, pulling you to your feet and wrapping his arms around you, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss. "you’re mine tonight. let’s keep this celebration goin’."

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesbabygirlx

[crappymixtape]

hang on tight, baby • part one

NAVIGATION -> PART I •  PART II •  PART III favored to win in barrel racing for the upcoming rodeo, you’re out in the corral practicing when your obnoxious neighbor, tyler owens, swings by to say hi, but when the wind picks up you both won’t have a choice but to trust each other • 18+  | ( 3.0k – TW: natural disasters, tornado, injuries • witty banter as foreplay, fluff in their own way, enemies to idiots in love, tyler owens x reader )

H A N G O N T I G H T, B A B Y • P A R T O N E 🎶 devil always made me think twice, chris stapleton

Clouds stretched overhead, lazy liked pulled taffy as the sun beat down on you in the midday heat. You’d been up since the first fingers of light had crept up over the horizon, dew still clinging to the long stalks of wheat in the early morning, but as the day spun on summer made sure to remind you what it was capable of.

That June in Oklahoma wasn’t anything to mess with.

Sweat beading across your forehead, you had half a mind to toss your hat over the corral fence but it was the only thing keeping you from getting sunburned. Pushing at your windswept hair with a gloved hand you tucked the flyaways out of your face and clicked your tongue at your horse, Tilly, to get back into position.

“C’mon, girl. One more run and then we’ll call it,” you coaxed, readjusting your grip on the saddle horn and giving her neck a pat. Tilly snorted, her hooves stamping in the dirt, anxious to take off again around the three wooden barrels dotting across your little makeshift arena. “That’s it, easy…” you murmured.

Barrel racing horses were built different, like they were brought into the world locked and loaded with a fire burning in them – they lived to ride like this. A black flash of muscle and tension set loose like a snapped rubber band and honestly? You lived for it too.

Tucking your chest tight against her mane, you knotted your fingers in the reigns, sucked in a breath and held it steady in your lungs. Three…two…one…

“Yah!” you kicked your heels to Tilly’s flanks and she took off like a gunshot. Hooves thundering across the ground, winding a tight circle around the first barrel in a blur as you ticked off the seconds in your head.

Seven, eight, nine – you rounded the second barrel – ten, eleven – you approached the third – twelve – and then you heard it. A blast of drums and twangy guitar riffs, a Chris Stapleton track followed by a loud engine backfire and it threw both you and Tilly off track.

Your booted foot smashed into the side of the last barrel and you yelped, Tilly kicking her back legs in a start with a high pitched whinny.

“Whoa, whoa–easy!” Pulling back on the reigns you soothed her, hands smoothing down her mane. Shh, s’alright girl, and she slowly calmed, cantering to a stop just at the edge of the corral where you could finally see who’d come tearing up the driveway.

Tyler Owens.

“Well hey, sweet stuff. Damn, you were lookin’ good for a minute – what happened there at the end?” he hollered out his open cab window and it made your hands ball into fists.

Brows pinched together and lips twisting into a deep scowl, you tugged at Tilly to head back to the gate, “I told you not to call me that, Owens.”

“What? Sweet stuff? What’s wrong with that?” you could hear the grin in his tone, saw him in your head without even having to look. Stupid smirk, stupid aviators, stupid toothpick and stupid belt buckle.

“I ain’t sweet,” you shot back and it pulled a chuckle out of him, a low, rough sound that put a flicker of heat between your ribs.

He cut the engine on his truck, boots shuffling in the grass as he hopped out, and the heavy slam of his door told you today just wasn’t gonna be your day.

Tyler tutted at you, teasing. “Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, Sawyer?” and that snagged your attention.

Dismounting faster than he could blink, you were out of the saddle and marching across the corral to kick at the fence board his boot was resting on. He stumbled back at the force of it and laughed again, flicking his toothpick off into the wheel ruts of the driveway.

“Alright, alright,” he held his hands up in defense and took his sunglasses off, tongue running along his bottom lip, “Didn’t come here to get my ass kicked.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you snarked, pulling your hat off to fan at your face, “You know I’m trainin’ right now.”

“Mmhm,” he agreed, notching his foot back between the fence boards and leaning his elbows lazy on top, “But I also know it’s pushin' a hundred degrees and the humidity’s sittin’ at 50%. You been drinkin’ water?”

You swallowed, mouth dry — No — and rolled your eyes before turning to walk Tilly back to the gate, “I’m fine.”

He pushed off the fence and chased a line around the corral, hollering after you, “Betcha didn’t know I’m almost as good at chasing bullshit as I am tornados!”

You groaned, dumbass, and reached the gate with Tilly in tow, but Tyler’s hand was on the latch before you could get to it.

“So. I call bullshit,” he said again, a little out of breath and eyes stuck on the way your lips twitched against a smile. “What d'you say we go get an iced tea or something,” he opened the gate and somehow you managed to pass through without so much as a glance in his direction.

Stick to your guns.

“No, Tyler.”

“Ah, c’mon,” he insisted as you pushed past him to the stable, “You and I both know it’s too hot to be out here. So does Tilly.”

But you ignored him, walked Tilly into her stall and even though you couldn’t see him, you knew Tyler had propped himself up on the other side. Arms folded over the top of the gate and hat tipped back just a little, but you went to work anyway undoing Tilly’s bridle, moving easily down to work at the buckle on the saddle and heaved it off her back.

“Least make yourself useful,” you huffed, saddle in hand and shoving it over the gate into Tyler’s chest.

“Shit–” he grunted, fingers scrambling to grab hold of it. A frown tugged down at the corners of his mouth, but he walked the saddle to the tack room anyway and came back with a renewed sense of purpose. “C’mon, Sawyer. Just a nice cold iced tea between friends?”

Sawyer. The nickname he’d gifted you when you’d moved in next door, a nod to your home town – Sawyer, Oklahoma. The home you’d left. The one you tried to forget. The place that held too many memories, too much hurt, and made your chest ache every time you thought about it.

You stopped brushing Tilly and let her get after a much needed drink of water, heaving a sigh from your lungs. It was cooler in the stable and without the sun beating down on you, you didn’t need your button down anymore. Fingers moving to undo the damp, long-sleeved, shirt clinging to your skin, it sighed with relief as the fabric shifted to let the breeze sweep over you.

“Tyler. I need to focus on training,” you grumbled glancing up at him, but it was mistake.

Without his sunglasses, you could see him tracking the movement of your hands. The buttons as they slipped through the loops one at a time. The heady mix of your sweat and shampoo a sweet scent lingering in the air between you and it made you feel dizzy. Made you want something you knew you shouldn’t have. Tyler knew it too as he swallowed thick, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, jaw ticking as he bit down on the feeling flickering in his chest.

“Promise I won’t ask you again if you still hate me in an hour,” he said, tone a little strangled, and your lips betrayed you, the corner of your mouth tugging up in the world’s tiniest smile.

“Honest?” you challenged, quirking a skeptical brow and he winked.

“Cross my heart, hope to die,” he traced his fingers over his chest and you swore right then and there you’d be the one to kill him if he put even one toe out of line.

❝ THE MINUTE THAT I SAW YOU WALKIN’ OVER, I FIGURED I WAS DIGGIN’ MY GRAVE. AND YOU HAD THE SHOVEL, I KNEW YOU WERE TROUBLE, BUT YOU’RE JUST THE KIND OF TROUBLE I CRAVE. ❞

Your property was a few miles out of town, a small farmhouse with an old horse stable on seventy-eight acres you rented to the Calhoun brothers for their fescue. It was a lot of work. The house badly needed updating, but it was all you could afford with your winnings from nationals last year and in the end, it didn’t matter – if you hadn't gotten a fresh start you’d have suffocated.

So, a little over a year ago when you’d pulled up the dirt drive in your red Ford pickup, Tilly’s trailer in tow, you felt like you could breathe again. Felt like this little patch of earth there on the outskirts of Tulsa was just what you needed, but when you started hauling boxes out of the truck bed you heard the one thing you didn’t need coming up the road.

Your neighbor.

Tyler Owens.

Renowned twister chaser and resident hot air balloon with an ass that could make even the most beat up pair of Wranglers look good. You knew before he even opened his mouth that he was trouble, but he was easy on the eyes and – surprisingly – pretty helpful.

When your roof sprung a leak during a particularly bad downpour he came over. Climbed up the ladder with a hammer and nails hanging off the tool belt on his hips and had it patched in twenty minutes.

When your chickens got loose and took off into the Calhoun’s fescue he and his horse Banjo helped corral them back up and into the coop before they did too much damage to the crops.

And when he’d found you at the Tin Bucket last year, too many drinks deep after losing at the Fourth of July rodeo, he drove you home. Held your hair out of your face while you puked and cried and spilled your guts to him in a muddled mess and didn���t say anything after. Kept your secrets just that, secret.

“Still with me, Sawyer?”

Tyler’s voice cut into your thoughts and you blinked over at him from the other side of the truck bench.

“What?”

“You’re not here,” he chuckled, brows pinched with just the smallest bit of worry. “You’re somewhere else.”

“Oh,” you felt your cheeks grow hot and tossed your gaze out your window, “Just thinkin’ about Friday. Adeline Stout got a 13:20 last weekend, I gotta beat that to qualify for nationals.”

“Hm,” he hummed, thumbs tapping on the steering wheel, “Seems like you had it earlier.”

“Yeah, ’til you drove up.”

Tyler huffed a laugh under his breath and clicked his tongue, “Sorry. Should’a called first.”

Silence settled in the cab and the air between you buzzed, felt like static, charged and pulling taut with something loaded until the truck bumped over the curb of the parking lot and shattered it in an instant.

You couldn’t jump out of his rig fast enough and didn’t wait for him as you cut a path over the asphalt and into the dingy little diner, the bell overhead tinkling happily.

“Howdy, sugar!” Dot greeted you with her big, friendly smile, cowboy hats dangling from her earrings as she gave the man at the counter a refill on his coffee.

“Hey, Dot,” you couldn’t help smiling back, the bell on the door jingling again letting you know Tyler had finally caught up.

“Dottie, you are lookin’ fine as ever,” Tyler grinned, smooth like butter and the older woman chuckled, hand on her hip as she watched him pick out a booth.

“And you’re lucky I’m pushin’ seventy,” she teased back with a wink.

“Age is just a number!” Tyler played along and you rolled your eyes.

“We’ll take a couple iced teas, please,” you cut in, Dottie giving you a knowing smile and it made your cheeks flush again.

“And fries,” Tyler added, sliding into a booth by the window and you followed suit, sitting across from him on the glittering red plastic of the seat.

“You got it, hoss,” Dot nodded, hollering the order back over her shoulder to the kitchen and pouring two big glasses of her famous sweet iced tea.

Picking at the peeling vinyl table top, your knee bounced, a silent protest at having to be still for a minute.

You always made sure to keep yourself busy. To keep your mind from wandering off back home and everything that came with it, and sitting across from Tyler Owens at the quiet little diner while Dolly Parton sang overhead about working nine to five wasn’t doing you any favors.

“So,” Tyler started, dragging out the ‘o’ and lifting his brows at you, “How’re the girls?”

The girls. The chickens.

You deadpanned him and shook your head, propped your chin in your hand with your elbow on the table.

“They’re fine.”

“Good, good. And the Calhouns?”

“Also fine,” you shot him a look, a side-eye glance, but he only smiled.

“And did you get your boots worked in for Friday?”

“Tyler,” you firmed, turning finally to look at him straight on and his smile faded.

“What?”

“All this–this small talk and being chummy and whatever, it’s just–”

“Just what?” he asked, leaning forward on the table toward you and your heart stuttered in your chest.

“What’s your game?” you leveled, meeting his gaze despite the way he had your pulse fluttering against your neck and his lips curved up.

“No game. Just bein’ a good neighbor.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and leaned forward just a little more. “Thought you said you were good at chasin’ bullshit,” you pushed and he burned, a flush of red from the collar of his white t-shirt all the way up to his cheeks.

“Alright, two iced teas and some fries. You need anything else, peaches?” Dot cut right between the two of you with a couple of glasses and a red plastic basket piled high with shoestring french fries.

“Thank you, thank you,” Tyler recovered, thankful for the out and took the basket from Dot. “Think that’ll do it for now.”

“Mmhm,” Dot murmured, clicking her long pink nails on the table top. “You two be good.”

“Yes, ma’am,” fell out of Tyler’s mouth automatically as she left you it.

You picked up a bottle of ketchup and squeezed some into the corner of the basket, swirling a fry around in it and lifting it to your lips to take a bite. Maybe you should be nicer to Tyler, should give him a chance, the benefit of the doubt, but you weren’t about to be made a fool again. Weren’t ready to put your walls down yet even if he was mostly sweet and only a little sour – the fun kind – but maybe it wasn’t fair.

“Gonna be outta town on Tuesday,” Tyler started, looking over at you through the long sweep of his lashes, green eyes meeting yours across the table. “In case you punch a hole through your wall or something.”

“Ha, ha. Should do stand up.”

He grinned. “You wanna come with me?”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“With you?”

“Yeah, I gotta go pick up a case of rockets for our next video series.”

You scoffed, half-laugh half-nerves, but didn’t say no and his grin widened, eyes narrowed and almost closed with the way he was smiling so big.

“Pick you up at six,” he grabbed a bunch of fries and shoved them into his mouth, “Includes complimentary coffee.”

And something in you melted with the way he was looking at you. The way you could hear the tease in his tone softening and shifting more sincere and you cracked and finally gave him a real, honest-to-god smile.

“Fine,” you surrendered as he slapped a hand on the table and made you jump.

“Hell yeah,” he buzzed and you laughed, dropping your gaze to your lap so he couldn’t see you blushing.

“Keep your pants on,” you chided and the laugh that pushed from his lungs was hard enough to made his head tip back on the seat, but then you felt a buzz in your pocket.

You weren’t expecting a call.

Then Tyler’s buzzed on the table top.

And Dot’s from back behind the counter.

And the farmer’s at the booth behind you and when the siren sounded from down the street your stomach dropped.

“Shit,” Tyler breathed.

Jolting up from the table he pressed a hand to the window and looked out across the plains stretching out ahead of you. Cotton candy clouds turned dark and heavy, curling in on themselves and tinged in an eerie yellow and when he finally turned to look back at you, the feeling in your stomach twisted into something more ominous.

A storm was coming.

[ NOTE -> THIS IS PART 1 OF A 3 PART SERIES – STAY TUNED FOR THE LAST INSTALLMENT! ]

crappymixtape™ • tyler owens / twisters masterlist to come!  ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

[yaut-jaknowit]

Pls. Breeding fic, size difference, and old man yautja. Go wild.

Mating Season

Pairing: Uihoy (Male Yautja) x AFAB reader

Warnings: biting and clawing, blood, pain kink, little prep for you, primal play (sort of), HEAVY BREEDING KINK, knotting, lots and lots of cum, unrealistic idea of how sex works but you know – aliens, no aftercare, no soft Uihoy, very rough sex, very rough Uihoy, on the floor sex.

Word Count: 1897

Summary: Every year, it happens almost like clock work. Mating season. Some dread it while others enjoy it. Uihoy has mixed feels but can't help to fall victim to it. Especially with on of his mates on board and they say yes.

Author Note: I hope it was okay to use Uihoy. He's an old man Yautja. I sure tried to go wild with him. This was the perfect excuse to show the other side of Uihoy too. Ehehe.

P.s. I'm trying to write my stories a little bit shorter if possible. I hate not getting through requests as quickly as I want. Though almost 2000 words is a good amount.

Masterlist

Ao3

Part 2 (Yes, I finally did a part 2)

Thick arms wrapped around your torso and pulled you from the ground. You gasped and squirmed for only a second. Until a husky growl sounded next to your ear and caused the skin to prickle into goosebumps. Claws dug into your skin, sharp could easily tear through flesh. You heard a deep breath taken in before it fanned over your shoulder.

The body that held you was beyond blazing hot and tense. Each muscle strung tight like a bow. Beads of moisture rolling down purple scales. A hand twitching close to your waist. A long, spilt tongue licking at  your neck and curled over the shell of your ear. “Do consent?” he growled into your ear and held steady.

Nothing would be done to you until the words ‘yes’ left your lips. Neither of your Yautjas would touch you without permission. Ever.

And you wouldn’t leave alone during the mating season.

“Yes.”

In his hungry, desperate state, Uihoy pinned you right there, in the middle of the cockpit. You put up a little fight, as if you were a female Yautja but Uihoy was quick to pinch your nape between deadly fangs. This had you stilling and relaxing underneath his hold. He kept that same position though as he tore your clothing from your body without a care in the world. You gave a little protest yet did nothing else.

Hands, coarse with time roamed over fragile skin. One was used to tug yours apart from one another, forcing you to exposed yourself to him. That same limb swiped through your folds to stop at your clit. A thumb was placed on top of it. Your hips immediately swirling to gain any sort of release with the predator pinning you down.

A dangerous growl rumbled through his chest and vibrated against your skin. The teeth that were on the verge of drawing blood tightened. You groaned but didn’t stop. Uihoy forced himself to bite harder. Blood pooled around the fangs in your skin before dribbling down to the warm floor below. The Yautja snarled again before ripping ever article of clothing that blocked him from that hot cunt waiting for him.

His blazing cock slapped against your labia once freed. You jumped, thigh muscles rippling as they clenched. A curse already falling from your lips. Your dull nails clawed at the metal floors with no luck of purchase. Uihoy seesawed his hips and rubbed his thick, heavy cock between your legs. The friction on your clit had you bowing your head. Accidently, you were able to see his actions as he pulled back fully.

Only the tip throbbed against your moist entrance. You bit harshly at your lips and sucked in a deep breath that filled your lungs. This wasn’t your first rodeo with him while he was in this state. He wasn’t his caring, loving, needy self. This was a Yautja in need of a cunt to breed and soak his cock.

Your thighs trembling as the Yautja shifted on his knees. The hold on your shoulder was released. Uihoy licked up a stripe from between your shoulder blades to the base of your neck. From there, he dragged his tongue to the crook of your neck. Iron filling his tastebuds.

The pointed head of his cock speared through your labia with a brutal thrust. Your head was thrown back and knocked against his broad shoulders. Uihoy pulled back out, only to push the rest of himself in on the second thrust. A pathetic cry scratched at your throat. Pain was apparent with little preparation for his size. That didn’t stop you from spreading your legs further apart to get more of him inside of you.

With his hips meeting the back of your thighs, it felt like he had forced the head of his penis into your womb, ready to seed you. Uihoy pulled out without any hesitation just to shove back into you.

Immediately, you began to pant as if you had crossed a desert running. Whimpers and whines filled the air besides the sounds of painfully slapping skin. Words of blabber to say something in praise tried to tumble from your loose lips. “Uie-Uie. Fu-ah, mmm. Go-od. Really good.” Neither of you could truly understand what had been said. The Yautja far too gone to truly care what you were saying. His main focus was breeding you, filling you with his thick seed in your womb while sealing it away with his large knot. You would be round with his children.

Uihoy’s cock throbbed inside of you, causing you to cry out in a high pitch. He didn’t stop, not once slowing down for anything.

When more time passed, the sounds of your dripping cunt grew in volume. Now, he could easily slip in and out without any struggle. At this point, you were struggling to stay perched on your elbows below him. He forced a great amount of his weight on you, practically draping himself over you.

Sweat stuck to you like a second skin. Beads of it dripped down your face and fell to the floor. You clenched the best you could around Uihoy. In retaliation, he thrusted particularly hard. It officially knocked you off of your elbows and onto the cockpit floor.

Talons clawed down your sides, dragging over fragile skin and drawing blood. That was final nail in the coffin. Your head reared back and smack against Uihoy’s shoulder again. It exposed your whole throat to him. He took the open opportunity and latched his inner mouth to the crook of your shoulder. Pain sprung to life as your orgasm crashed over you. His name left your lips in a mewl as you trembled underneath him.

He didn’t stop, thighs slapping against yours. They left marks of red skin behind in their pounding wake. Uihoy forced you to go though a shattering orgasm without a break to even catch a shallow breath. What he did next though surprised you.

A massive hand found its way around your throat and dragged you up. The male had you balancing on your knees as he drilled into you. He kept that grasp there, nails slightly biting into your skin. Blood already falling down the length of your body from the bites he created from earlier.

Your eyes were threatening to roll into the back of your head almost permanently now. His thrusts grew harsher, his snarls grew deeper, and his bite became more painful. All that had you squirming and writhing in Uihoy’s hold.

His other hand grasped the back of your knee and tugged it flush with your chest. A new angle that tugged a pathetic cry from your lips.

One last hard thrust had you sobbing. Your hands clawed at the hand around your throat as he held you there. His hips stuttered against you, pulling at the swelling knot inside of you. A blazing heat filled you, your womb full of his seed. The head of his cock piercing your cervix to breed you, to seed you.

The full size of knot kept every drop of him inside of you, not wasting anything. Everything was given to you. But he had more to offer.

Uihoy panted ruggedly which allowed you to breath almost freely as well. Tears prickled the corner of your eyes before rolling down your cheeks. He snarled shoved you down back to the floor. Your chest pressing into the ground. A huge paw keeping you pinned between the shoulder blades, unable to get up.

Then, he pulled out the knot. You gasped harshly but could only lay there and let him have his way with you. Your hands scrambled for anything that could give you something to hold but found nothing. The floor too smooth. You felt a huge gush of his seed spurt out and pool on the floor. Heeds of it coated the sides of your thighs.

The Yautja wasn’t satisfied, one knot wasn’t enough, his mind supplied. His tip was lined up with your red, soaked labia before pushing full force into you again. The sheer strength of him had you sliding up the floor. He grasped the back of your neck and pulled you back to him. He sheathed himself back into you fully. The large ball of flesh at the base of his cock catching on your entrance. That was the least of his worries right now.

Already, your cunt was feeling sore and rubbed raw. An effect they could have on you during this time of the year. But you fucking loved it. Loved it when Uihoy lets go and just uses your body for his pleasure, uses you to fill his seed into.

One of your hands found its way to your clit, on the verge of another orgasm. Your shaking fingers swirled around your drenched bundle of nerves. Shocks of pleasure and lust racing up your spine to settle in the base of your skull. You keened and shook as the orgasm built more and more as he moved inside of you.

The thickness of his cock filled you full, pushing what cum that stuck to your walls back out and dribbling to the floor. He kept rubbing at your g-spot. That electrified your clit and pushed you against another orgasm. You clenched your teeth when he raked his claws down your back. More blood swelling to the surface.

You mewled as an orgasm rolled over you in overwhelming waves. Your walls pulsed around him the best they could so stretched out. As if trying to pull him in deeper and deeper, to keep him far inside of you. A curse rolled off your tongue, barely understandable. Your whole body trembled like an earthquake rolled through you. But, you weren’t able to move more than an inch with his weight upon your back.

Uihoy forced his half-deflated knot back into your drenched cunt. More of your juices poured out of you into the pile between your shaking legs. The ball of flesh swelled again and sealed him deep inside of you again. You arched to the best of your ability, tears falling down your face again.

With how much he’s pumped into you these two times, your belly had grown noticeably. He had filled your uterus with a lot but not enough in his opinion to breed you.

More. He gave more and more and more. Until his body was beyond exhausted. He seated his knot past your entrance one last time and collapsed on top of you. An elbow prevented all of his weight to sit upon your much smaller frame. You gasped at the sudden weight then grunted.

He purred thickly in the back of his throat and tiredly nuzzled into your neck. Sharp fangs scratching across your skin without care. You couldn’t even shutter, body far beyond exhausted and drained of energy. The best you could do was huff and blink slowly, eyes staring blankly at the dark wall in front of you.

A hand petted down your sweaty skin before settling on your hip. With the rest of his energy, Uihoy rolled on to his back and pulled you with him. His knot almost slipped out due how much slick was between your legs. He let an arm be thrown over your torso before promptly passing out. Not a second later, you followed suit.

[aeragan]

ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢ 'ʀᴏᴅᴇᴏ'

✭ pairing(s): boothill x afab reader

✩ inspo: need him

★ summary: you can't help but notice how hot your boyfriend is at the rodeo...

✧ a/n: mmghhfhh robocock

🗒 cw: SMUT, gn! afab reader (no use of breasts), porn with plot, dry humping, cunnilingus, manhandling, overstimulation, edging, facesitting, not proofread

✎ wc: 3.8k

MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY

Dates with Boothill were few and far between, and when you two are able to have one, it’s not necessarily the most glamorous. Case in point, you were at a dingy rodeo, standing near the railings as you watched some poor soul get tossed around like a ragdoll on the bull, clutching on for dear life for only 2 seconds. As spectators cheered and hollered around you, the wranglers did their best to calm the beast down and usher it out of the ring, the announcers chatting about the performance in a language you don’t understand. Due to the rodeo’s clearly small budget, no gear had been provided for the riders, you can’t help but cringe at the thought of the possible back pain of the rider, but that fades quickly as you finally start paying attention. You could care less about the other riders, and most likely, after the next, you’d probably leave.

The next rider being Boothill. You don’t have to worry about Boothill and his gear; he’s a big boy, and he can deal. If anything were to happen, he’d just have to ask his mechanics to buff it out. It’s the last ride, and the crowd is antsy. Chatting reaches a peak around you, as the smell of alcohol becomes more prominent. Your eyes fall to the stall below you, where Boothill’s stationed, hand on the railing, chatting away with the handlers. His attention is broken for just a second, looking up at you with a cocky grin, and a tip of his hat. His eyes linger, met with a soft smile from you.

The eye contact is fleeting, however, and the announcers pull him back to focus on what’s next. They rile the crowd up, talking so fast it makes your head spin, as if you were at an auction. The only word you catch is ‘Boothill’, of course, and when you look back down at him, he’s raring to go. The minute that gate opens, he lets go of the bar, his right hand up.

The bull bucks, left, then right, right again, and into a full circle. It’s miraculous how his hat has stayed atop his head with how violently the bull is throwing him around. His chin is tucked to his chest, knees pressed against the bull, spurs digging into the bull’s ribs. Beneath the rim of his hat, you can see that cocky grin, in fact, you can almost hear his laughter under all the cheering and muttering as he makes it past 2 seconds. The wranglers pace back and forth around the bull as it jumps, another left spin. It has to be the longest 8 seconds of your life, every time the bull’s hooves touch or kick up dust, your stomach tightens. You’re undoubtedly more nervous than he is, but that feeling is soon replaced with something else.

You don’t understand why, but watching him steady while the bull thrashes about, toothy grin unwavering, heel and knees tight, something stirs within you. The whole world goes quiet as you watch intently, biting at your lip as you try and fathom how you are attracted to this. Your face flushes, the people around you are too rowdy to notice how you’ve squeezed your legs, to abate the heat forming. Luckily, that action snaps you back to reality, and as the horn sounds above you, signaling that Boothill has made it to 8 seconds, he rides out a couple more. Finally, after about another second and a half, he lets go, falling to the ground and rolling back on his feet. The bull continues to buck, and the wranglers usher it back out of the ring.

The crowd cheers and hollers as he climbs up the railings, taking his hat off and waving with a triumphant grin. Some people around you grumble and move away while the announcers try to end off the show. Boothill looks directly towards you, and you must’ve given him the look, because he gives you a sultry smirk, one that screams ‘I'm gonna get my reward’. You can even hear him say it in your head, as you try and tear your gaze away. Alas, it’s futile, cause he shoots a wink at you, before putting his hat back on and tipping it towards you again. You can’t help but stare, really. It’s only when he walks out of the ring with the wranglers that you can look away.

.  * 　　　 ✦     .     　⁺ 　 .

You meet Boothill outside of the ring, the stars above dulled by the shabby street lamps that flickered weakly. As he walks up to you, he’s thumbing through the money he’s got, grumbling something about being scammed. Yet, when he sees you, he beams, as if he hadn’t been annoyed at how little he won.

“What’s the payout?” You ask, trying to look over the cash.

“Enough for a motel,” Boothill replies quickly, moving his hands away from you as if to hide the money. “That’s all that matters.”

Despite his complaining, his tone is heavy with implications. Truth is, he could care less about the cash. He’s never around one place long enough to really need their currency; save for enough for a round of drinks or two. He was much more interested in the adrenaline rush, or the substitute of it. Boothill has always been rough n’ rowdy, he didn’t mind being thrown around, especially now. He enjoys pushing his body to his limits. But, since you’ve come into his life, there’s a new thrill added to the list. Who cares about the money when he could have his head pressed between your thighs? You knew exactly where this was going. And it’s not like you mind.

“C’mon,” Boothill jerks his head in the direction of the motel he’s got in mind, that grin never leaving his face. “There’s one close to here.” You can tell he’s eager, as much as he does his best to hide it. His hand slips around your waist, squeezing your hip gently as he ushers you away from the venue. He’s quick to pull you away from the crowd forming outside, perhaps it is to slip away from any sore losers.

You follow his lead without complaint, after all, why not indulge? A date with Boothill is rare, a night with him even rarer. You can’t reel your mind in once it’s wandered back to the sight of Boothill on the bull. You have no idea why you were entranced and why it stoked the fire low in your belly, but it’d be quelled soon enough.

As honest and sometimes discrete Boothill may be, the quick walk to the motel is filled with all sorts of lingering touches. He hooks his thumb into the waistband of your pants, teasing lightly at your hip bone. He presses himself up against your side, whispering all sorts of sweet nothings and dirty words, or what he can, at least. His goal is to make you squirm, and squirm you do. Every heavy-lidded look, every breath, it serves to fan the flames of want, of need. And by the Aeons, he’s doing it. And doing it well, at that.

By the time you two make it to the motel, you’re essentially whipped. He’s got you wrapped around his finger, and it’s hard to keep your composure for much longer. You’re a blushing mess, and you can only hope the clerk doesn’t take notice of the way you’re clinging to Boothill, the way that you avert your gaze from anyone else, even the cowboy himself. It’s not that you’re embarrassed, it’s just… a while without his touch and his time, you’ve been left empty for a long time. It’s a hunger that you can’t satiate with your hands or even toys– which feels ironic, considering the definition of Boothill’s dick was essentially a toy. But you weren’t after his dick. No, it’s his mouth you missed.

As you reminisced, you hadn’t realized he had whisked you away to the room. But, he brings you back to reality with a bruising kiss, pushing you further into the room and slamming the door behind him. His eyes are shut tight, it seems he’s more keen on satiating the heat within him then you are. He cups your face as your hands find his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. Out of instinct, he begins to grind against you, even if it does nothing to abate his own desire. Regardless, he moans into the kiss. Perhaps it was some sort of phantom feeling, chasing after something he can’t quite feel. But that didn’t matter, no, not at all. What mattered was the feeling of your lips pressed against his, the way his hands tangle into your hair and pull ever so lightly, and the way you give him another moan in response.

As you begin to lose your breath, he finally pulls away. With a half-lidded gaze, his hands drift down to your waist. Wordlessly, he pushes himself closer once more, bending down ever so slightly and wrapping his arms underneath the curve of your ass, before essentially throwing you onto the bed. You yelp when your back meets the plush mattress, bouncing back slightly as the springs squeak underneath you.

Everything he does is hasty, it’s not that he’s rushing the moment, he’s just hungry… starved. He snakes his way in between your legs, arms caging you in, placed by your waist as he finally leans back down. Boothill’s face is flushed, lips parted as he pants slightly. He takes in another heavy breath before he closes the distance between you two again. He allows no room for words, only breathy moans and whimpers. This kiss is a lot shorter, it is more like an act of devouring your lips then anything, short ragged breaths escaping from the both of you in the split seconds that your lips part. Eventually, his lips make their way from your lips, down your chin, to your neck. His teeth graze your throat, causing you to sigh softly.

Oh, how you’ve missed this feeling. The sense of desperation that fills the air as you two rut against each other, the gasps and breaths that fill the space around you. As much as the space between you two feels like it could kill you, and how those nights wishing– even praying– to have Boothill in bed with you again are agonizing, these nights where desperation reigned supreme made up for it. Where you two could be at eachothers throats, ripping each other apart, exploring every inch of skin and metal once more. The nights where Boothill sinks his teeth into every inch of skin he can see, where you’re putty in his hands. It’s wonderful, letting everything go, allowing yourself to unravel. The touch you so desperately craved, metal and skin alike, honeyed words lost into a sea of bliss.

His cold hands slide up your shirt, anchoring you back into reality for a second time. His teeth sink into the crook of your neck, letting out a low hum as you whine. You arch your hips, but he pushes them back down, running his tongue along the definition of his bite. He murmurs something against your skin, the first words since you two have entered the room, and you can’t exactly make out what it is. Something like ‘stay put’, which you oblige to, regardless. His hands knead at the flesh, trailing his tongue along your shoulder where his teeth find home once more. He groans this time, as you close your eyes and roll your head back. He doesn’t even have your shirt off and you are soaked. You try to close your legs to stave off the heat build between them, however, his legs prevent you from doing that. You whimper slightly at this, which finally draws Boothill’s attention away from your neck and shoulders. He looks down between you with a smirk, and for a moment you swear you could see his eyes lock on.

“This what ya want?” Boothill asks, pressing his body closer, grinding his groin against yours. The friction makes you groan, arching your back once more. The friction is delicious, every press of his hips against yours fanning the flames of tension. It only serves as a temporary reprieve, but it feels good. You can only nod and babble out something that sounds like a ‘yeah’, pressing your hips up against his every moment they pull away.

It’s wonderful, the way that his cock slots in between your legs, and presses up against your clit, despite the barrier. You can’t help but wrap your legs around his waist, locking him closer. In your hazy dance, you feel as if you mourn every split second his cock doesn’t press against you. He can only chuckle at your desperation, pressing increasingly more feverish kisses against your neck, sometimes sucking, sometimes biting.

Boothill is drunk off all the little sounds you make, picking up the pace of his grinding, pressing you back into the mattress. He just can’t get enough, the way you raise your hips into him, wordlessly begging for more, the taste of your skin… Aeons, you’re addicting. He could care less about how little physical gratification he gets, to have you undone beneath him already is reward enough. Every moan from you earns a grunt of appreciation from him, throwing his head back. While you miss the warmth of his mouth against your skin, you aren’t necessarily disappointed with the view from below…

The heat in between your legs hits a fever pitch as you feel a coil tighten below your stomach. Your legs squeeze against Boothill’s, shutting your eyes tight and letting out a high pitched ‘mmh!’ as a warning. Boothill takes this as a sign to stop, to toy with you. Just as you feel like you’re about to unravel, he pulls away, leaving you feeling empty. You groan and reach up for him, wiggling a little underneath him as an attempt to allow yourself to finish.

“Ah-ah-ah,” Boothill tuts, stepping back. Before you can press your legs together, he catches your thigh with his hand, squeezing and the flesh. “Gotta wait. You can do that, yeah?”

All you manage is a weak nod, wanting so desperately to beg him to let you cum. That doesn’t mean you’ll be complacent though, you know he’s missed you just as much as you have, and you know he’s rather… impulsive. All you have to do is moan a little louder, say his name in a sweeter way, and you’ll have him weak in the knees. You’re so sure of it.

As you hatch your plan, Boothill takes his sweet time getting himself ready. He takes off his hat, setting it on the bedside table, before climbing up onto the bed. His knees pressed against your hips, stradling you. He’s got his cocky grin plastered to his face once more, eyes half-lidded and hazy as he looks down at your flushed face. You prop yourself up on your elbows, a silent challenge as you shift beneath him. His grin turns sultry, leaning his head down and meeting your lips. It’s a chaste kiss, somehow softer from the hungry kisses from early, and he pulls away all too soon.

He doesn’t leave you wanting this time, though. You can tell by the way his eyebrows are barely furrowed, the way he starts chewing on his lip, and the slight narrow in his eyes that, good Aeons, he just cannot wait. That, and, the very obvious tent in his pants. Sure, he’s not adorned with the most ‘human’ bits, but he told the mechanic to make sure ‘it worked juuuust right’. But that’s not the focus here, no, the way he’s sliding down between your body, practically drooling as his head rests on your thigh.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…” Boothill grumbles as he fumbles with the button on your jeans. It takes him a full second to undo them, sliding them down to your ankles. You wiggle them off, just as he decides he’s too impatient and presses his mouth to your underwear, tongue flat against your pussy. You let out a stifled moan, hand instinctively tangling within his hair.

Boothill’s eyes flicker up to you, then close, his hands sliding up and anchoring you in place by your hips. He noses at your clit, lapping up whatever he can between your legs. He could care less about the barrier, really, you can feel his teeth grazing your clit every once in a while, which adds a whole new thrill to this experience as is. He wouldn’t bite, as he is prone to, he knows better.

In between hurried licks and sloppy sucks, getting what he can even through the barrier, he presses gentle kisses to your thighs, sometimes licking along your stretch marks. He does this to prolong the experience, granting himself some restraint, no matter how badly he wants to make you cum over and over and over in his mouth. You can tell how hard he’s trying to hold back, his fingertips digging into the plush of your hips, small exasperated grunts found their way in between his ministrations.

You tug on his hair softly, thighs pressed against either side of his face. He looks beautiful like this, face squished between your thighs, eyes closed, mouth open as he laps at your clothed folds. It’s a sight to behold, truly. Every lick causes you to whine, the rough feeling of your underwear pressing against you, pushing just a little further. His breath fans against your pussy, soft grunts and groans escaping his lips, providing a delicious vibrating sensation against your heat.

You feel the coil tightening once more, and silently pray to Lan that he won’t stop in your hazy mind. Your moans increase, letting out soft, high-pitched noises, tugging at his hair slightly. Boothill lets out a low, raspy laugh, hands pulling you closer harshly as if you weren’t close enough. He doesn’t pull away this time, lapping at your underwear at a near crazed pace, like he needs you to cum. And cum you do, your body arching as you dig your nails into his scalp, whimpering out his name.

He laps up your release, or what he can, growing increasingly agitated at what little he can taste through your underwear. Only then does he finally peel away the barrier, his fingers almost too quick. If he was still human, he’d be shaking. He is too quick to claim his place back at your pussy, his licks sloppy and greedy as he claims his prize. Each stripe licked up against your drooling pussy sends a tingling feeling up your spine, making you whine and try and push his head away. But he doesn’t stop.

When your thighs squeeze against his face, as if trying to block him away from such a precious well of ambrosia, his hands fall from your hips, snaking in between your thighs and pushing them open. He pants against your pussy, his warm breath fanning over it, causing you to shiver. You feel like you are… at his mercy, even if you’ve only came once. It is not a bad feeling, you yourself know you are putty in his hands, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

However, it seems Boothill is now unsatisfied with this position. He pulls away from you reluctantly, pushing you up further on the bed, and shimmying his way up onto the bed fully. Before you can even ask what he’s doing, he grabs you by the hips and rolls you over so you were on top of him, hauling you down easily. His mouth finds purchase on your pussy so easily, lapping at it eagerly.

You don’t dare to even move, simply arching your back as you press your hands into his abdomen to keep yourself up. All sorts of lewd noises come from his throat as he continues his ministrations, staring right up at you with a near challenging look. He alternates between licking and suckling on your clit, hungry growls filling the space in between grunts as if having you press flush against his mouth was not enough.

You can feel overstimulation creep up on you, while his actions don’t hurt, it’s starting to tingle a little, providing a comfortably numb feeling alongside the pleasure that wells between your legs once more. Your body heats up more than you thought it could, and slowly your hips follow Boothill’s tongue. It’s not long until you start to grind against his mouth fully, his nose notching against your clit when he wasn’t sucking on it.

“Ya forkin’ like that?” Boothill asks, muffled, before diving back in once more, his hands pulling your hips down even more, pressing you into his mouth. “F-Fudge… So gosh dang good…”

You’d be poking fun at his censorship, but you just can’t help the moans that roll off your tongue. You can’t help but chase after it, your orgasm already gripping you. Your thighs tense and you groan, rolling your head back and cumming onto Boothill’s tongue once more. But he wasn’t done. Your hips jolt as his eating becomes even more hungry, sloppy, the need to ravage you taking hold. What a beautiful aphrodisiac you are, how he would love to drown in between your thighs.

But you stop him from that dream, unfortunately. The numb feeling gave way to an odd hurt, something that felt almost electric. Your hips buck as your body tenses, doing what you can to pull away from Boothill’s iron grip. Eventually, he loosens, his hands coming down onto your thighs, and you raise your pussy from his lips. Slimy tendrils of spit and slick connect his mouth to you, his chin covered in your slick. He grins up at you, eyes practically sparkling.

“M’sorry,” He starts, squeezing your thighs. “Taste too good. Got ahead of m’self.”

You can’t help but admire the sight beneath you, Boothill’s flushed face, happy as can be, as if he had just won the world. Before he lets you go, he leans in, pressing a heated kiss to your clit, pulling back. He changes his mind quickly though, now peppering your folds with more kisses until you shuffle off of him. At that, he lets out a low, mock annoyed groan, before sitting back up.

You sit on his stomach, your slick painting his abdomen, your ass pressed up against the erection pressing against his tight jeans. He doesn’t move to relieve it, he could really care less about it. He’d already taken what he wanted– more like what he deserved– and he was sated. Unless you were game to give him more…

© sentoooo, 2024 | masterlist | kofi | star header by roseschoices | sfw blog DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN, REPOST ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[joelsrose]

Howdy Cowboy

I am crazy but I am free - I need to study but can’t stop writing for my pookies

No warnings just tension and teasing and !hotcowboyJoel, reader is in her early/mid 20sss

You sighed, giving yourself one last look in the mirror, running a hand down your sides, smoothing out the simple black mini dress that clung to your skin. Paired with a pair of old cowboy boots you’d dusted off from the back of your closet, the outfit wasn’t exactly your usual style. But tonight wasn’t about you—it was Sarah’s birthday, and she had been planning this cowboy-themed party for months, insisting on holding it at the local rodeo bar. She hadn’t stopped talking about riding the mechanical bull, her excitement practically contagious.

You couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face as you thought of Sarah—her curls bouncing, her eyes lighting up with excitement as she finally got her moment on the mechanical bull. But even with all that anticipation, it wasn’t what had your heart racing the most.

It was Joel.

The second his name crossed your mind, a wave of butterflies exploded in your stomach, making you feel both giddy and a little breathless. The theme was cowboy, which meant Joel would definitely be in something dangerously fitting. Your mind drifted—what if he wore those perfectly worn jeans that sat just right on his hips, a cowboy hat tipped low over those deep brown eyes of his, maybe even an old shirt clinging to his chest in that way that made you look twice?

You could almost picture it—Joel walking into the bar, the dim light hitting him just right, his easy smile and that slow, purposeful stride making your heart skip a beat. It made you feel like a teenager with a crush all over again, the kind that leaves you breathless and flushed, and completely unsure what to do with yourself.

The thought of seeing him tonight, in the soft glow of the bar lights, dressed like that—it made your pulse quicken.

•••

You felt a flutter of nerves as you stepped inside, the buzz of energy from the bar wrapping around you. The dim lighting cast a warm, golden hue over the rustic wooden beams, making the place feel both intimate and alive. For Sarah’s birthday, the bar had been completely transformed—twinkling string lights hanging from the ceiling, a sea of cowboy hats and boots filling the room like something straight out of her dreams. Laughter rang out from every corner, the soft twang of country music humming in the background, setting the perfect tone for the night. It was exactly the kind of celebration Sarah had always envisioned, and a quiet thrill of excitement stirred in your chest, knowing how much this moment meant to her.

Spotting Sarah wasn’t hard; she stood near the mechanical bull, already in full party mode. Her wild curls framed her glowing face, and she was dressed to perfection—a denim mini skirt, a fitted white top, and, of course, the pièce de résistance: a rhinestone-covered cowboy hat perched on her head, catching the light with every move. A Birthday Girl sash draped across her chest, sparkling just as brightly. You couldn’t help but chuckle and shake your head at how perfectly Sarah she looked—radiant, confident, and completely in her element.

“Hey!” Sarah squealed the moment she spotted you, throwing her arms around you in a hug that radiated pure excitement. "You made it!"

"Of course, wouldn’t miss it for the world," you grinned, pulling back to take in her outfit. “You look incredible, by the way.”

Sarah’s face lit up even more, and she gave a little twirl, the rhinestones on her hat sparkling with every movement. "Thanks! Feelin’ like a proper cowgirl tonight," she winked, her energy infectious. "Now, go get yourself a drink from the bar and hurry back—I’ve got big plans for us!" she teased, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

You turned to move towards the bar, and that’s when you saw him—leaning casually against the wooden counter, drink in hand, the rim of his cowboy hat casting just enough shadow to hide his dark eyes. Joel. The breath hitched in your throat as your gaze settled on him. He looked even better than you had imagined—broad shoulders filling out his worn, flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal his forearms, strong and lightly scarred from years of hard work, flexing subtly as he lifted the glass to his lips. His faded jeans hung low on his hips, the belt buckle glinting under the dim bar lights, and that damn cowboy hat perched perfectly on his head, tipping ever so slightly forward as he brought the glass to his lips.

Your heart skipped a beat, the world narrowing to just him in that instant. Most men would look ridiculous dressed like that, a caricature of what a cowboy should be. But Joel? The way he wore it, the way he owned the look, made you think all kinds of unholy things. You scolded yourself for how easily the blush crept up your cheeks, painting you crimson in a way only he knew how to. It was ridiculous how just the sight of him made you feel like a teenager again. You’d seen him countless times before, but tonight, bathed in the golden glow of string lights, with the brim of his hat casting shadows over his sharp features, Joel looked every bit the rugged cowboy from your wildest daydreams—strong, untamed, and lighting a fire deep inside you that you couldn’t ignore.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself as you made your way to the bar, your heart pounding a little faster with each step. Joel hadn’t spotted you yet, his focus seemingly on the drink in his hand, his body leaned casually against the counter as he spoke to the person beside him. The closer you got, the more the nerves started to build. You could practically feel the heat rolling off him. Pretending to study the drink menu hanging above the bar, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at Joel. His dark eyes, shaded beneath the brim of his cowboy hat, flicked up just as you turned your head, catching you mid-scan. His lips curled into that slow, knowing smile that always seemed to unravel you from the inside out, making your heart stutter in response.

“Well, look who finally decided to show up,” Joel teased, his voice smooth and warm, like honey dripping slow. Before you could even form a response, his arm wrapped around you, pulling you into a hug that was far more intimate than it should’ve been. The faint scent of whiskey on his breath mingled with the earthy tones of his cologne, the combination stirring something deep and unnameable inside you. His chest pressed against yours for a moment that stretched just a bit too long, his hand sliding gently across your back, the warmth of his touch both firm and tender. When he finally pulled away, his smirk—the one that always made your heart stutter—was firmly in place, his eyes twinkling with a kind of mischief that left you breathless.

Joel leaned in just a bit closer, the space between you shrinking as he tilted his head slightly, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Can I get you a drink?” he asked, his voice a smooth, lazy drawl that made the offer feel like the most natural thing in the world, like it was just the two of you, here and now.

You smiled, trying to steady yourself under his gaze. Your eyes flicked to the drink menu for a split second before meeting his again, the weight of his attention making it hard to focus. Biting your lip, you shrugged playfully. "Yeah, but I can't decide."

Joel tipped his head, taking a slow, deliberate sip of his whiskey, his eyes never straying from yours. “Can’t go wrong with whiskey,” he murmured, lifting his glass slightly, his deep drawl wrapping around you like velvet, warm and teasing.

You arched an eyebrow, mirroring his playful tone. “A little strong for me, don’t you think?”

His smile deepened, a hint of challenge flickering in his gaze. “You sure about that?” he asked, his voice dipping lower. “Thought you could handle a little heat.”

A blush crept up your neck, spreading across your cheeks, and suddenly your usual witty responses seemed to vanish. He was being forward tonight—really forward. This wasn’t like his usual stolen glances or the casual brushes of his hand. Joel Miller was flirting with you. And it wasn’t subtle.

“Wanna try?” he asked, his voice dipping lower, rich with mischief. His eyes flickered in a way that left no room for doubt, tracing your lips before he subconsciously licked his own. The gesture was slow, deliberate, and paired with the gleam in his gaze, it sent a shiver straight through you.

You hesitated for a second, but before you could answer, he was already lifting the glass to your lips. The smooth rim of the glass touched your mouth, and as you took a slow sip, your eyes locked with his, the world narrowing to just the two of you. The whiskey burned down your throat, a warmth spreading through your chest, but it was his gaze that made your breath hitch. Your head tilted back slightly as you swallowed, and he watched, his eyes darkening, intense and unwavering.

The moment stretched between you, the tension tightening like a wire pulled taut, neither of you breaking the connection. His gaze followed the movement of your throat, the subtle rise and fall as you drank, and when you lowered your head again, the air around you felt charged, heavy with everything unsaid.

A slow smile tugged at the corner of Joel’s lips, his eyes gleaming with something dangerous and teasing. He leaned in just a fraction, his voice dropping to a low, rough murmur that sent a shiver down your spine. “Good girl,” he drawled, the words soaked in heat, went straight to your core.

Your heart stuttered at the words, heat flooding your cheeks. The intensity in his gaze hadn’t lessened, if anything, it had deepened. He leaned just a fraction closer, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin, his eyes slightly hooded as they took you in, tracing the curve of your lips and the flush on your cheeks.

You were overwhelmed, every hair on your body standing on end, your thoughts a hazy blur as you tried to figure out if the moment you were sharing with Joel was real or some kind of daydream. Joel had been bolder tonight, more direct, and it was almost too much. The weight of his touch, the intensity of his gaze—it all lingered, leaving your skin flushed and your pulse racing. You needed to break the tension, to say something before you completely lost your grip on reality.

“You know,” you began, a teasing smile curling at the corners of your lips, “I gotta say, you pull off the cowboy look better than I expected.” Your tone was light, playful, but the flutter of nerves in your stomach betrayed the weight of the moment still hanging between you.

Joel chuckled, the sound deep and rough, sending a ripple of warmth through you. His eyes flicked down to his boots and then back up, settling on you with a glint of mischief. “That so?” he drawled, raising an eyebrow as he leaned in just a bit closer, the space between you tightening. “And what exactly were you expectin’, huh? Me in my old t-shirt and worn-out jeans?”

You shrugged, biting your lip, trying to maintain your composure. “Maybe. It’s kinda your signature look, isn’t it?”

“It’s comfortable,” he replied with a casual shrug, his eyes glinting. “But sometimes you gotta switch it up. Thought I’d embrace the theme tonight.” He paused, his gaze lingering on you before flicking up to the top of your head. “Where’s your cowboy attire, anyway?”

You let out a soft laugh, rolling your eyes playfully. “Figured the boots were enough,” you said, glancing down at your feet. Joel's gaze followed, but his eyes didn’t stop there. They trailed slowly up the length of your bare legs, lingering for just a heartbeat longer than necessary before meeting yours again.

Joel clicked his tongue, shaking his head with mock disappointment. “Nah, you’re missin’ somethin’,” he teased, tilting his head slightly, his eyes scanning you with an exaggerated slowness, as if picturing you fully in theme. “Can’t go to a cowboy party without a cowboy hat. Gotta complete the look.”

Before you could respond, someone called his name from across the bar. Joel let out a quiet sigh, turning slightly to see who it was. The reluctance on his face was unmistakable, the easygoing warmth from moments ago fading just a bit as the interruption pulled him away from you. A flicker of disappointment crossed his expression, like he was just as unwilling to let go of the moment as you were.

He turned back to you, his eyes softening once more. “Looks like I gotta take care of somethin’ real quick,” he said, his voice laced with quiet reluctance.

For a brief second, neither of you moved, the air thick with unspoken words. Then, with a decisive nod, Joel reached up, pulling the cowboy hat from his own head. The brim caught the warm light, casting a shadow over his face as he held it in his hands.

“You’re missin’ this,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, rough around the edges in the way that always sent a thrill through you. Before you could even process what he was doing, Joel gently placed the hat on your head, tilting it just right with careful hands. His fingers brushed through your hair as he adjusted it.

You looked up at him, eyes wide, heart pounding in your chest. “Joel…” you started, unsure of what to say, but he wasn’t finished.

“Looks better on you anyway,” he added, his voice softer now, almost a whisper, as if he wasn’t just talking about the hat. His eyes held yours, dark and intense, a quiet promise lingering in the space between you. For a moment, everything around you—the noise, the laughter, the people—faded into the background. It was just the two of you, standing there in the dim light, the air thick with something unspoken.

Joel’s fingers lingered for a second longer, brushing against your cheek, before he pulled away. He gave you one last lingering look, his lips curving into a small, private smile as he stepped back.

“Don’t lose it, now,” he said with a wink, his voice carrying a hint of something playful, though there was a deeper meaning hidden beneath the words.

And just like that, he turned and walked away, his broad shoulders disappearing into the crowd, leaving you standing there with his cowboy hat resting on your head, your heart pounding and your thoughts a jumbled mess of everything that had just passed between you. The warmth of his presence still lingered, even though he was no longer standing beside you, and as you lifted a hand to touch the brim of the hat, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself.

•••

For the rest of the night, you tried to focus on the conversations swirling around you, laughing at the right moments, nodding along when someone spoke. But no matter how hard you tried, your thoughts kept drifting back to Joel. Every sip of the whiskey he’d left for you—a drink too bitter for your liking—became a reminder of him. The taste lingered on your lips, but not as much as the memory of his hands on your waist, the low murmur of his voice, the heat of his gaze.

But what made it impossible to forget was the way he kept finding you, catching your eye from across the room. Every time your gazes locked, it was as though the world around him faded—he'd stop mid-conversation, his attention drawn solely to you, as if no one else existed. His eyes would linger, dark and intense, leaving you breathless and yearning for the moments you had been closer.

His hair, now slightly tousled from where the hat had once sat, made him look even more rugged, and every time he looked at you, it was as though the air between you thickened. The party became a blur, the conversations blending into background noise, because the only thing that mattered was the way Joel would glance at you with that slow, deliberate look that made your heart race. He’d look at you like he was memorizing the sight, like he was already missing the moments when your paths would cross again.

Then, Sarah’s voice rang out, cutting through the hum of conversation and the twang of country music. She stood on a chair, her curls wild under the string lights, hands raised high as she grinned mischievously. “Alright, y’all, before we cut the cake, we’ve got one more thing to do,” she announced, her voice loud and full of excitement. “Who’s ready for the bull?”

With the energy buzzing in the air, Sarah bounded over to the bull. The crowd followed, gathering around as she made a show of adjusting her cowboy boots and tossing her hair over her shoulder with exaggerated flair. You couldn’t help but laugh as she flashed you a quick wink before climbing on. She threw one arm in the air dramatically, gripping the saddle with the other, and the crowd went wild.

The bull jerked to life, and Sarah let out an exaggerated "yee-haw!" that had everyone howling with laughter. She clung to the bull, her curls bouncing wildly as she tried to maintain her balance, her boots slipping in the stirrups. It didn’t take long—maybe ten seconds, if that—before she lost her grip and tumbled off, landing in a pile of giggles on the padded floor.

Amid the cheers and clapping, Sarah stood up, taking a playful bow as she caught her breath, her curls bouncing with the movement. Then, her eyes locked onto yours with a devilish glint. Her smile widened into a mischievous grin, and with one finger pointed directly at you, she shouted, “Your turn!”

You groaned internally, feeling the heat of all eyes on you. For a moment, you seriously contemplated making a break for it, envisioning a swift escape out the back door before anyone could push you toward the beast in front of you.

But before you could act on your plan, two strong hands found your waist from behind, steady and familiar.

“Come on, darlin’. You’re up,” Joel’s deep voice drawled near your ear. His hands were firm but gentle, guiding you toward the bull like you didn’t have a choice in the matter. And truthfully, with him so close, you weren’t sure you wanted one.

The crowd parted as Joel walked with you, his presence commanding as always. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the scent of whiskey and something earthier filling the space between you.

You stood beside the bull, feeling a little ridiculous but mostly nervous. Not because of the bull, but because of Joel—his hand still lingering on your waist, the heat of his fingers burning through the fabric of your dress. He leaned in, his lips dangerously close to your ear, the subtle brush of his chest against your back making your skin tingle with awareness. Joel leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice dropping low—dangerously low.

“Let’s see how well you ride,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear, each syllable laced with suggestion.

The innuendo hit you hard, making your stomach flip, heat pooling low in your belly and rush of blood rushing to your cheeks at the implication in his voice.

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, his hands tightened on your waist. With an effortless lift, Joel had you in the saddle, his strong grip making you feel weightless, completely under his control. The brush of his fingers as they left your hips was like fire, leaving you reeling, breathless, as you adjusted to your seat on the bull.

After Joel lifted you onto the bull, his fingers didn't pull away immediately. Instead, they lingered, resting on your bare thigh where your dress had ridden up just slightly. His rough fingertips began tracing slow, deliberate circles against your skin—small, hidden movements shielded by the way his body subtly blocked the view from anyone else around. It was an intimate touch, just for you, as if he was testing the waters, seeing how far he could push without a word.

His touch, though soft, was firm enough to make you dizzy, each little circle drawing you further into the heat of the moment, making it impossible to think about anything else but him.

Your breath caught, and when you glanced up, his eyes were already locked on yours, dark and intense, like he was daring you to react. His thumb lingered on your thigh for just a heartbeat longer, pressing slightly before he stepped back, leaving you breathless.

The bull’s leather seat was cool beneath you, its surface slightly worn and slick under your palms as you gripped the reins, trying to steady your racing heart.

As you settled onto the bull, you tried to focus on anything but the way Joel’s touch still seemed to burn on your skin.

Before you could prepare yourself, the machine beneath you jerked to life and the crowd around you erupted in cheers and laughter. But it all felt distant, as though you were caught in a bubble, the world slowing down.

You gripped the bull’s rope handle tightly, your knuckles white against the worn leather, trying to steady yourself as it bucked forward. The motion was rough, your body swaying with each unpredictable movement, the muscles in your legs straining to hold on.

Your dress rode up just a bit more with each buck of the bull, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Joel still watching you, arms crossed, his gaze intense, unwavering. His lips quirked into that signature smirk of his, and it sent a thrill through you, making it even harder to concentrate on staying upright.

The bull bucked harder, throwing you back, and you squealed in surprise, laughter bubbling up in your chest. But even through the laughter, you felt the weight of his stare, the way his eyes traced every movement, every stumble, every sway. Your thighs burned from holding on - But the hardest thing wasn’t the bull—it was resisting the pull of Joel’s gaze, the weight of it still on you.

He hadn't moved an inch, standing just close enough for you to catch glimpses of him between the wild jerks of the bull. His dark eyes locked on you, unwavering, and every time your gaze met his, his lips curled into that slow, lazy grin that made your heart race. It was as if he knew exactly what he was doing to you, how his steady gaze ignited something inside you that made it even harder to concentrate. The thought alone made your stomach flip, a rush of heat flooding through you despite the cool night air.

With a playful grin of your own, you reached up, pulling the cowboy hat from your head and doing what you’d seen in every movie—swinging it in one hand as you tried to ride out the last few bucks. The crowd erupted in cheers and laughter, but all you could focus on was Joel’s reaction, the way his eyes darkened just a little more, that grin of his growing wider as he watched you, completely captivated.

The bull twisted sharply to one side, and your grip faltered. You let out a squeal, laughter bubbling up from your chest, but you could feel yourself slipping. Your body swayed dangerously, your dress hitching up even further, and just as you were about to fall, Joel stepped forward, his eyes flashing with something you couldn’t quite name.

With one final, hard buck, the bull sent you flying off, tumbling onto the padded mat below with a breathless gasp. The crowd erupted into laughter and cheers, but all you could hear was the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears and the sound of Joel’s low chuckle as he stepped closer, offering you his hand.

“You alright there, cowgirl?” he teased, his voice thick with amusement. His hand, strong and warm, wrapped around yours as he helped you to your feet, pulling you up with ease.

You laughed breathlessly, brushing off your dress, trying to regain some sense of composure as your heart raced for an entirely different reason now.

You grinned, still catching your breath from the ride, and before you could think twice, you teased, “I think I need more practice.”

Joel’s eyebrows shot up, clearly taken aback by the lack of subtlety in your voice. For once, you had surprised him. His gaze flickered with something that made your heart skip, but just as quickly, he composed himself, the corner of his mouth twitching into that familiar smirk.

“Well,” he drawled, his voice smooth and low, “maybe I can show you how it’s done sometime.”

Your pulse quickened, a dizzying rush of heat flooding through you at the boldness of his words. It took everything inside of you not to grab him by his flannel and close the distance between you right there and then. The intensity of the moment, the weight of everything unsaid, had your breath catching in your throat. His eyes never left yours, the smoldering desire in them making your heart race as if he was daring you to make the next move.

Before you could respond, Sarah called your name, waving from across the room. You turned, ready to head back to her, but stopped short, suddenly aware of the weight on your head.

Joel’s cowboy hat.

You reached up, ready to hand it back to him.

“Here, you should take this.”

But before you could take it off, Joel’s hand gently stopped you. His thumb brushed over your knuckles.

“Nah,” he murmured, his voice low and rich with meaning.

“Keep it… for our next lesson.”

Your breath hitched at the weight of his words, the promise wrapped in them, and before you could think of something witty to say, Joel gave you one last lingering look, his eyes glinting with something unspoken before he stepped back into the crowd.

As you turned back to Sarah, your heart was still racing, Joel’s hat resting snugly on your head, a promise of something more hanging in the air.

[taylormarieee]

Dollar bills and love Billionaire!Miguel O'Hara

🎶I'ma take her bougie ass to Rodeo and then let her pick up whatever she want. CC, Gucci, hit Bottega, whatever she want She piss me off, somehow she still get whatever she want🎶

Summary: You were bratty all day, no matter what Miguel tried to do, take you shopping, buy you food, he even bought you puppies, you were still bratty so he decided maybe fucking it out of you would do the trick.

Pairing: Husband!Billionaire!Miguel x Fem!Entrepreneur!reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Dom!Miguel, sub!reader, annoyed Miguel, bratty reader, PiV sex, oral(f), rough sex, mentions of arguing, Miguel being considerate, Miguel being slightly mean, degrading kink, praise kink, pussy whipped Miggy, mentions of height difference (reader is 5'7 Miguel is a 6'9 kingggg!), established relationship(there married), kinda angst/sadness, animal awareness(please be kind to animals, there so precious and adorable, especially puppies.)

A/N: I'm in the writing mood lol, ENJOY!

Miguel was the best husband you honestly could ever ask for. He was kind and so loving and caring. He was the opposite of what you thought about him when you first saw him.

You own your own business called Size Flows. It's a business for making clothes for plus sized people. Many plus sized people don't get to have clothes like that.

They have to fit in clothes that don't define their curves and beauty properly because the clothes are made for skinnier people. So one day when you decided to throw a party for the celebration of your business being a success you didn't expect much.

Yes, you did send flyers out but you didn't think they were going to reach the higher-higher staff and people in the world. So when famous billionaires and Multi-billionaires and millionaires started showing up into your building, you were shocked,

One of those billionaires happened to be, Lord and Behold, Miguel O'Hara. You were intimidated by him for quite some time at the party. He was tall! That was a fact. He also looked annoyed and mean.

Not really engaging in a lot of conversation like the others did. I mean yeah, the party was at night but it wasn't that late and the party didn't go on for too long so people didn't start getting bored of each other in there.

Eventually you decided to make conversation with him because why not (though you did notice most people cowered and scurried away from him when walking by). So when you arrived at his feet it took about 3 looks to finally meet his eyesight.

He was staring down at you with a tight lipped smile and you looked at him with a wide, happy, inviting one. Your signature smile at most, as that's what your assistant Alexandria says.

"Hello! You must be Miguel! I've heard a lot about you and your work and I must say, I'm intrigued to know just a little at how your mind works.

Miguel had a completely different company from yours, obviously. Yours was about clothes, he built his own museum. It was about like history and about Aerodynamics. The museum was impressive and it was large. I'm talking like, really LARGE!

You honestly couldn't help yourself. You visited the museum about 13 times. A couple with your friends who were into that stuff and like twice with your family and other times with your co-workers who wanted to go on their lunch break. You introduced yourself by saying your name or at least trying to before he cut you off.

"I'm very pleased to meet you Miguel, my name is-" you start off.

"I know who you are hermosa. I've seen your face on the cameras at my museum every time you go." He says.

Your eyes widen. You were so shocked by the cameras bit you didn't even register the intimate name he gave you. 'He's in charge of the cameras. And he's seen me over and over again!?' you thought in shock.

"Your honestly probably one of my most frequent visitors besides a bunch of college boys." he says with a polite smile on his face that makes you feel the need to laugh. He chuckles and laughs with you.

"wow, so you're frequent with the cameras huh?" you ask in a playful tone. He chuckles as he takes a sip of his whiskey.

"Yea, if you say so. I like to make sure my museum is safe and the guests are happy." he responds with a seriousness in his tone.

"Well, I mean coming from number one guest, I must say... I'm extremely happy every time I see the front of the building. Just so eager to go inside."

He laughs again and for the first time, you see a twinkle in his eyes. You guys talk for the rest of the night to the point you're the only two left in the building.

He kindly walks you to your car, which you were forever grateful for and that night ended and more frequent ones with him in it began until you two finally got married.

You were more happy in your life now than you have ever been before. You have the hottest man in the world to wake up to every morning and to say goodnight to every night.

That was three years ago and now, your here dragging Miguel everywhere, looking and searching for stuff you don't need.

Miguel was pissed at you because you were being a bit bratty today. You weren't satisfied and you constantly gave him attitude and sass. He was slowly loosing his patience and his temper the more and more bratty you got.

It got to the point he yelled at you and told you to get in the car both of you arguing for a good 20 minutes on why you were being so bratty and why he was being so annoying and grumpy.

He took you to a pet store. He bought you a tiny little bedazzled blue collar and then told you, "Pick." he said just standing in front of the dog pen with a bunch of puppies running around your legs.

"w-what?" you ask quietly, some forms of your attitude gone. "Pick. One." he says sternly with his jaw clenched. You feel slight fear but get filled with excitement when you see the two puppies you've been wanting forever!

A Corgi and a Yorkshire terrier! They were the cutest puppies to you, well that's a lie, you wanted every puppy in this store but it's not that Miguel wouldn't buy them all, it's the responsibility and care you have to have for them.

The hours you work make it difficult to buy every single one. "Miggy," you start, batting your eyelashes at him, "Can I get them all?" you ask.

There were like 15 dogs in here and you wanted every single one. "mami, no. You can get 2." he negotiates. You pout and your bratty attitude comes back.

"no! I want them all! If not then how about like 8?" you argue the amount with him. He rolls his eyes, once filled with sincerity and love now filled with anger and annoyance.

He usually wasn't annoyed with you when you got like this sometimes but he had a really bad day a work and you arguing with him didn't make it any better.

"No, two. No more negotiating mama." he says as calmly as he can because the last thing he wanted was you flinching and crying at his temper and how scary he got.

He did that once and the last time he did it, you didn't utter a proper word to him face to face for a month. He made you so scared and for a second when he raised his hand you flinched.

You genuinely thought he was going to hit you. He immediately stopped raising his voice at you after that. You allow it sometimes when you're arguing but you don't raise your voice at him that much because you know his temper and his patience.

"ok, how about 4? is that ok??!" you ask with those puppy dog eyes and that cute little pout he loves to see in different circumstances if you know what I mean.

"ok mama, and that's it." You get 4 collars for their genders one pink, one red, one green, and one violet. You got a Dachshund, a Yorkshire terrier, and a French bulldog and a Shih Tzu.

-The Dachshund was a boy and you named him lucky. (he got the red collar.)

-The Shih Tzu was a girl and you named her princess. (she obvi got the pink collar)

-The French bulldog was also a girl and you named her cleo. (she got the purple collar)

-The Yorkshire terrier was the last you chose and he was a boy and you named him stripe. (the name is because he was black and had a brown stripe on his face and he obvi got the green collar)

"That'll be $1,375 sir. And would you like to donate to charity for dogs in need?" she asks with a smile on her face.

"Ok, and yes I would like to donate!" Miguel responds with a smile on his face matching hers.

"Oooo! No Miguel! Can I do it instead? Oh, please hermoso, lemme do it!" you beg you wanted to be part of that cause.

"Ok hermosa, go ahead but lemme pay for the doggy bowls and the food and all the beds and everything else ok?"

"Miguel that means i'll have to buy something! Leave the doggy bowls out, I'll buy them because you'll have to press decline." You explain to him.

"No, I'll pay some to charity and then you pay some." He says smiling glad that your attitude is over.

"If you both don't mind me asking, how much are you donating? I run the charity and I'm just curious." The lady who you now know her name to be Sam, asks.

"Oh I'm paying 500,000 dollars." Miguel says nonchalantly like it's nothing. Her mouth drops.

"And i'm paying 600,000." I add with a smile on my face. Miguel dips his head back down at me and narrows his eyes like it's a competetion.

"Never mind 700,000." he says eyeing me up and down.

"800,000"

"900,000"

"1,000,000" I say finally winning.

"I'll pay 900,00 Sam." Miguel says smiling at her. The lady is crying now and you rush over to hug her.

"Oh poor thing. I have just as much love for dogs as you do. My dog died a couple weeks ago and i've been dying for a new one. That's why we're here so i'm glad we were able to help." You reassure her hugging her.

She mutters a sorry for your loss as she's fighting back tears and you smile feeling tears run down you face as well. Animals were such a big part of life and they brought so many people happiness.

To see the way so many people mistreat animals really crushes your heart. You both pay and walk away with happy smiles and 4 happy puppies with a new home.

You wave to the other employees as they finally realize who you and Miguel were. They asked for pictures and hugs. You gave that to them and then bid them a farewell.

"Thank you Miguel, I really needed this." You say with more tears in your eyes. His face softens and he hugs you and kisses your head. "It's ok baby. I have one more surprise for you at home." He says with a smirk on his face.

You decided to be a tease. The entire car ride you acted bratty and all mad because he wouldn't let you get all the puppies.

You knew exactly what the surprise was so that's why you acted like this. The surprise was sex, you knew it was. That smirk he had on his face in the pet store showed it. He was horny and now frustrated so that only meant one thing...

ROUGH SEX! You loved rough sex with Miguel so much. He would always degrade you and then praise you. He was just so bipolar during sex but whenever you made him real mad and pushed his limits like you are right now,

It always led to hateful, angry sex, well maybe not hateful but really angry, rough sex.

"Get out." He says through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. Your eye's go wide still keeping up with the act. "No Miguel! This conversation isn't over." You say stubbornly sitting in your seat.

"Fine. Then I'm getting out and I'm going to feed the dogs you're neglecting right now." He says with an eyebrow raised and a shrug.

You gasp and cross your arms over your chest. Your body and the car slightly shakes with Miguels slam to the door.

"what a jerk." You mutter under your breath but sometimes you forget your husband has super hearing and you also have a trunk, that happened to be open...

SMUT INCOMING: MDNI!!!!!

"Hmm love? What was that? Oh. I'm a jerk? mhmm mami, I'll show you a jerk." He says in that sultry smooth voice that had your knees buckling, every. single. time.

You let out a sigh as you watch him go into the house( aka a big ass mansion.) You wait until he goes fully inside. He closes the door but you still wait a little just for good measure.

When you walk in, something pushes you against the wall and Miguels lips are instantly on you roughly. You whimper and he grips your throat.

Your hand rushes to his hand around your throat and he growls biting your bottom lip, drawing it back before letting it spring back to it's original place.

His grip on your neck only tightens as he pushes his crotch against you. He flips you around roughly and your face and front part of your body hits the wall hard, his hand still on your neck.

You moan at the feeling of his crotch pressed against your ass now. "You wanted me to be a jerk right? Your so fucking ungrateful baby but damn are you beautiful." he growls in your ear, clearly fed up with your bratty attitude.

"Guess daddy is gonna have to fuck that attitude out of you huh? ¿Es eso lo que quieres, puta sucia?" He asks you. You loved when he dirty talked to you in spanish, it turned you on so much.

"Mhmm, want you to fuck it outta me papi." you say in return, your voice low and seductive. He grins against your neck before biting it roughly. causing you to. cry. out.

He licks over the bite and you whimper, your legs clenching to find some sort of friction. "Nuh uh mamacita, no trying to please your self. Spread em open baby." He says in a soft voice he didn't have a second ago.

You hesitantly oblige and spread your legs. "Good girl, look at that, mi niña bonita es tan buena para mí." he says proudly.

you smile to yourself before he's picking you up over his shoulder and carrying you up the stairs to your shared bedroom.

"Miggy, i-i'm sorry, I won't be bratty again! I promise." You beg him with pleading eyes when he rests you in the bedroom, on top of the bed as he slowly climbs on top of you.

"No. Don't do that. That's what you said last week, and last month. Every time you beg, I have mercy on you and let it slide, not today baby. Me lo tomarás como una buena chica, ¿verdad?"

"Yes daddy, I'll take it like a good girl for you! I promise, i'm sorry."you respond. His hand trails up. and down your body agonizingly slow and it's making you anxious and needy.

"mhm, daddy, can you fuck me now, please?" you beg. He looks at you and shakes his head.

"No, mi amor. Shut up, and maybe I will." He says roughly. Your eyes start to tear up, not from his words but from his actions.

I mean, I guess you deserve it but he didn't have to be this slow. You stay quiet for the next 20 minutes? you don't even know anymore cuz you lost count.

He finally dips his head, kissing down your stomach, your clothes long gone. He finally reaches where you want him. His warm tongue flat against your soaking cunt.

You let out a relieved sigh, "mhmm thank you thank you thank you miggy." you chant out breathlessly.

his tongue dips inside of you and that alone has you winded. Your breathing his ragged and your hands immediately flying to his hair as you tug on it.

"What'd I say, hmm love? shut up or I stop." He says sternly, your cunt now feeling empty without his tongue. He licked and sucked and prodded at your entrance multiple times.

Soon making you come undone. Your legs closed around his head and you cried out as he licked up every single drop you had, not letting any at all go to waste.

Once he stood back up and met your teary eyes, he smiled. Not a genuine, happy smile, no. It was this smirk that he made when he knew he won, when he knew that he had your little mind wrapped around his finger.

He begins moving the belt to his pants and all you hear is a grunt. You don't even register his cock slipping and sliding through your slick folds.

"Joder mi amor, te sientes tan apretado a mi alrededor." he moans out as he slides his cock into your entrance. You feel so tight around him. Like virgin tight.

"Gonna beat this pussy real nice baby, No quiero que camines por el resto del fin de semana. No walking at all mama." He whimpers when your walls clench around him.

He's pounding now. First it was small, slow thrusts to ease you into it but your pussy is just too addicting. Miguel was so lost in your pussy, he doesn't even realize how hard he's pounding in to you.

His pace unrelenting, even after he made you cum for a second time. Your pussy feeling overstimulated and sore but Miguel is too entranced to care, constantly muttering out cure words and how good you feel wrapped around him.

You felt your orgasm coming as your walls fluttered around him again. He groaned at the feeling and roughly thrusted into you yet again.

"This pussy is all mine, such a fucking brat. Now look who's a mess over my cock hmm hermosa? Mierda, eres una jodida puta para mí, cariño." he says aggressively, enunciating his words with his thrusts.

You scream out and chant Miguels name over and over again while your orgasm rushes through you. you claw at his back and pull on his hair. You've left little tiny crescent shapes in his biceps.

He finally cums inside you at the same time and he releases this animalistic, primal groan and you shudder at the sound. You moan when you feel his hot warm load burst inside you.

"Fuck Miguel." you pant out before sleep over comes you. You were so weak and so tired.

It's a little later in the night, 12:32 to be exact. You look at the clock and then look behind you to find a sleep Miguel with his arm under your head and the other keeping you close resting on your stomach.

You turn until your face is in his chest. You had Miguels shirt on and underwear. He's so sweet, he must've cleaned you up when you passed out.

Your hands run through his hair lightly and you smile at his resting face. You kiss his face, then his nose, then his lips and the his neck.

You loved everything about Miguel and you hope he knows it. How tall he was compared to you, how he had such a sweet soul behind that mean facade. Everything about him was drop-dead gorgeous.

If you had the option to relive one memory with Miguel, It would be the first time you met him. So kind and such a gentlemen.

Taglist: @oharaslover @ribbonprincess @willyoubemycherryy @cherryredstarsreblogs /@cherryredstars @versatilehater @dustbunniess / @evbunnie

[writingduhh]

Can I ask for a fic where you're in one if those 'all men are assholes' type of mood and you're just going OFF on him about this one prick who did something to piss you off and he's listening because you guys are like 🤞🏻 and then he just kisses you because like he loves you but also he was kind of just wanting you to shut up. (Schlatt btw)

Sincerely, All men are assholes

I. Understand. This. Heavily. YOU GET IT! Also absolutely this idea

Jschlatt || Shut Up And Kiss Me

You storm into the living room, practically vibrating with frustration. Your footsteps echo off the hardwood floor, each one more forceful than the last as you let out a huff of indignation.

"I swear, I don't know what it is with men today, but they are all-without exception-absolute assholes!"

You fling your bag onto the couch, not caring that it slides off and lands in a heap on the floor. Your hands fly up in the air, punctuating your words as you pace back and forth, reliving every infuriating detail. Schlatt, who had been relaxing on the couch with his phone, sits up straighter, immediately sensing that you're in one of those moods. He watches you with that familiar mixture of concern and amusement, his brows raised in silent acknowledgment of the storm that's about to hit. He doesn't interrupt; he knows better. This isn't his first rodeo.

"And this guy--this complete waste of space--has the audacity to talk down to me like I'm some kind of idiot! Like, who does he think he is?" you rant, your voice rising with every word.

"And when I call him out on his crap, he has the nerve to act like it's my fault! As if I'm the one who's overreacting! Unbelievable!"

Schlatt nods, his expression serious, though you can see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"What an asshole," he agrees, his voice steady, designed to keep you going. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he watches you pace.

"Exactly!" you exclaim, spinning around to face him, hands on your hips. "All men are the same! It's like they're programmed to be assholes from birth. I don't get how you put up with half of your species, honestly. I'd go insane if I had to deal with you guys every day.” He chuckles softly, shaking his head as he continues to listen.

"I'm starting to see why," he says, his tone teasing but gentle. You shoot him a look that's meant to be withering, but it's hard to keep the fire burning when he's looking at you like that-like you're the only thing in the world that matters.

"And another thing”, you continue, though the heat in your voice has cooled ever so slightly, "Why do guys think they can just-"

But you don't get to finish vour sentence. Before you can process what's happening, Schlatt is on his feet, closing the distance between you in a few quick strides.

His hands reach up, gently cupping your face, and before you can get another word out, his lips are on yours in a kiss that's both unexpected and completely disarming.

It's soft and firm all at once, the kind of kiss that takes the wind right out of you and leaves you standing there, breathless. wide-eyed.

For a moment, you're too stunned to respond. Your mind races, trying to catch up with what just happened, but then you feel yourself melting into the kiss, your hands instinctively moving to his chest, clutching at the fabric of his shirt as if it's the only thing keeping you grounded.

When he finally pulls back, you're left staring up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. His hands remain on your cheeks, thumbs gently stroking your skin as he looks down at you with that smug, self-satisfied grin you've come to know so well.

"You done now?" he asks, his voice low and teasing, but there's a warmth in his eyes that softens the playful edge of his words.

You blink up at him, your mind still reeling from the kiss, and then you let out a breathless laugh. "You just kissed me to shut me up, didn't you?"

"Maybe," he admits, his grin widening into something that's equal parts mischievous and affectionate.

"But mostly because I couldn't stand another second of hearing you say all men are assholes when I'm standing right here." You roll your eyes, but there's no hiding the smile tugging at your lips.

"Well, you're the exception, obviously," you concede, still a little breathless from the kiss.

"Damn right I am," he says, his voice filled with that familiar confidence that drives you crazy in all the best ways. He pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist as he gazes down at you, his expression softening into something almost tender.

"Now, are you gonna keep yelling, or can I kiss you again?"

You pretend to think it over, your hands sliding up to rest on his shoulders as you look up at him through your lashes.

"I mean, I was kind of in the middle of a rant," you tease, though your tone is light, playful.

He laughs, a deep, rich sound that sends a shiver down your spine.

"Yeah, I noticed," he says, his voice dropping an octave as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a way that sends your heart racing all over again.

"But I think we both know you'd rather be doing something else."

Before you can respond, he closes the gap between you once more, capturing your lips in another kiss--this one deeper, more insistent. It's the kind of kiss that makes you forget all about the jerk who ruined your day, the kind that reminds you exactly why Schlatt is the exception to every rule. And this time, you don't mind shutting up one bit.

[hhughes]

I need more small town hughes bros. Especially Jack

especially jack you say . . . 😌 see this post for context!

famous bull rider jack is the biggest flirt. he knows the ladies wanna have him and the guys wanna be him and it fuels his ego sooo much. he can’t help but let that ego slip into his personality a bit. when he enters the room, ladies swoon, guys glare (or take notes) and he eats it up like his favourite steak dinner. he makes your panties melt and drop with just a smile.

famous bull rider jack’s motto should be ‘it isn’t arrogance if it’s true right’

jack doesn’t just walk. he strides. he saunters. every step oozes confidence. the way he tips his hat, even the lazy drawl in his voice screams confidence.

he loves to play the cocky pretty boy but make no mistake he’s still a hughes , and he’ll kick your ass no problem. especially if you talk shit about his family.

beneath all the bravado, famous bull rider jack’s not a bad guy—he just loves the attention. (don’t all versions of jack?) he’s young, he’s hot, he’s the best there is ; and if the whole world’s watching, he might as well put on a show right?

in my head there’s lore behind famous bull rider jack and fire chief quinn’s relationship. quinn is selfless, brave, adored by everyone without even trying. and jack secretly idolizes him but will rarely admit it.

luke is quiet, reserved, hardworking and wins hearts with his humility. while jack thrives on the attention the town gives him, luke despises it. jack loves to push him out of his shell and embarrass him a bit. “c’mon baby brother, flash those pearly whites. the ladies love it” jack says, winking at one of the girl with a smile and luke just rolls his eyes, focusing back on his beer.

sandwiched between two community darlings, jack knows everyone wonders where his parents went wrong when it came to him. but while his brothers are admired for their steadiness, jack takes pride in being the one who shakes things up a bit.

no one would ever guess but play!boy jack is a hopeless romantic. he believes in soulmates and he’s waiting for the right girl to tie him down. until then he’s happy entertaining whoever but … he’s knows that special one is right around the corner somewhere.

jack may flirt like it’s his second job, but he’s careful about who he lets get close. he wants someone who sees through the fame and charm and his family name to the man underneath. he even writes letters to his future wife, keeping them tucked away in a shoebox for when he finally meets her. (it’s something his grandpa used to do for his grandma before they met and jack thought is was cute🤧)

despite his flashy rodeo lifestyle, jack never forgets where he comes from. sunday dinners with his family are sacred, and he cherishes his family traditions. no matter how big his ego gets, a sharp look from his mom or a warning ‘jack’ from his dad is enough to cut him down to size.

as much as jack loves the thrill of bull riding, he dreams of a quieter life someday. the one his grandparents had, the one his parents have, the one his brothers are bound to have soon. a little ranch, couple of horses, couple of kids with a girl that has his heart.

[theonottsbxtch]

🐴 hi again! I loved the oscar series. So I have an idea but this time for Max again! (I’m a max girlie through and through 🙂‍↕️)

Okay so! Could you possibly do a cowgirl!reader x cowboy!Max? Maybe a barrel racer!reader and bull rider!Max (he seems like a bull rider ngl). Its maybe second chance for Max? He started to be there for her, showing up for her when she needs it. Something happened to the reader (up to you) and he showed up for her once again which causes the reader to reevaluate him. And the rest? Up to you! :)

Psps i love giving you my ideas and seeing them come to life! Goodbye for now, 🐴

WHAT'S LEFT BEHIND PT.1 | MV1

an: as an honorary texan (i've been friends with one for seven years) this was so fun to write ehehhehheh ANYWAY ENJOY THIS SECOND CHANCE ROMANCE!!

summary: when max verstappen left his childhood girlfriend behind to face her career ending injury alone to chase his dreams of being the best bull rider the country has ever seen, he thought it would be easy. except it wasn't, he was back in town and they hated him, for one reason. they hurt their star barrel racer.

wc: 4.2k

8 years ago

The crowd roared, but she barely heard it. The adrenaline coursing through her veins drowned out everything but the rhythmic pounding of Luna’s hooves beneath her, the barrels blurring in her vision as she pushed harder, faster, urging her horse around the final turn. They were almost there.

Almost.

The split-second misstep was enough. One wrong move, and Luna’s front hoof caught the edge of the last barrel. The world tilted, her balance slipping. And then she was falling—weightless for just a breath before the ground came up to meet her, hard and unforgiving. Pain exploded in her leg, white-hot and blinding, shooting through her entire body like wildfire.

She barely registered the panicked shout from the stands. The sound of boots hitting the dirt. Then hands—his hands—on her.

"Don’t move! I’m here, I’m here!" Max’s voice was frantic, the fear clear in his eyes as he knelt beside her. She could see the tremble in his hands, but his grip was steady, reassuring as he cradled her head and kept her still. "Help is coming, sweetheart don’t move.”

She tried to breathe through the pain, tried to focus on his face, but the edges of her vision blurred. All she could think about was how everything had changed in a heartbeat. She’d trained for this her whole life. Barrel racing was all she had, all she’d ever wanted. And now it was slipping through her fingers.

She reached out, her hand finding his. “Max…”

“I’m right here,” he whispered, squeezing her fingers. His voice was hoarse, as if he couldn’t quite believe what was happening either. "You’re gonna be okay, I promise."

But she could see the fear in his eyes. Fear that mirrored her own.

That was all she remembered when she passed out.

And when she woke up, she was in the hospital.

The antiseptic smell of the hospital was a far cry from the dust and heat of the rodeo arena. She lay in the sterile bed, her leg encased in a cast, throbbing with a dull ache that barely scratched the surface of the pain inside her.

The doctors said the break was bad. Real bad. Recovery would be slow. And even then… they weren’t sure she’d ever race again.

She hadn’t cried when they told her. She just stared at the ceiling, feeling like a hollow shell of herself, like her whole world had caved in on her. The only thing keeping her tethered to the present was the thought of Max. He hadn’t left her side at the arena, had promised her she’d be okay. He’d said he was there for her.

So where was he now?

The door creaked open, and she looked up, expecting him, hoping for him. But it was her mother who stepped inside, her face drawn tight with an expression that immediately set alarm bells ringing in her head.

“Mom?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Is it time for my meds?”

Her mother hesitated, wringing her hands together. “Honey… I have something to tell you.”

The calm that had settled in her chest evaporated. “What is it?” she asked, anxiety prickling at the back of her mind. “Is it about my leg?”

Her mother stepped closer, the shadows under her eyes deepening. “No, it’s… it’s about Max.”

“Max?” The name felt heavy on her tongue, like a weight pulling her down. “What about him?”

Her mother sighed, her expression torn between sympathy and something else—anger? Disappointment? “He’s gone.”

The words hung in the air, thick and suffocating, and for a moment, she couldn’t process what she’d just heard. “Gone? What do you mean, gone?”

“He left,” her mother said gently, her voice shaking. “After the rodeo, there was a scout. He got an offer… a chance to go pro. He packed up and went. He didn’t want to tell you while you were still in the hospital.”

A cold wave of disbelief washed over her. This can’t be happening. “No,” she said, shaking her head slowly, as if denying it could change the reality. “He wouldn’t do that. Not to me. Not after everything.”

Her mother reached out, a comforting hand on her shoulder, but it only made her feel more trapped. “I know it’s hard to understand, sweetheart. He was excited about it. He thought… he thought it would be better for both of you.”

“But I needed him!” The words burst out, sharp and raw, like the pain throbbing in her leg. “I was hurt! I thought we were a team!” She could feel her heart racing, each beat echoing the disbelief and betrayal that coursed through her veins.

“I know,” her mother said softly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “But he didn’t see it that way. He thought it was his chance to make something of himself. He didn’t think you’d want him to stay behind.”

The room felt as if it were closing in on her, the walls pressing down like the weight of a thousand expectations. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. All those memories of the two of them, the laughter, the promises—they felt like cruel jokes now. The pain in her leg was nothing compared to the ache in her chest.

“What did he say?” she demanded, desperation lacing her words. “Did he even look back? Did he say goodbye?”

Her mother looked away, a pained expression crossing her face. “He… he didn’t want to see you like this. He thought it would hurt more.”

A bitter laugh escaped her lips, surprising even herself. “So he just left? Just like that?” The anger bubbled up, a volcano ready to erupt. “He’s chasing some stupid dream while I’m stuck here?”

“He’s just a kid, too,” her mother said gently, but the words felt like a weak balm on a festering wound. “He didn’t know what to do. He thought it was best to leave you with the hope of recovery, not the reality of…”

“Not the reality of him abandoning me!” she snapped, rage surging through her. “I don’t care about his dreams! He was supposed to be here!”

The tears finally spilled over, streaking down her cheeks as she let the full weight of her heartbreak crash over her. Each sob felt like a release, but it didn’t take away the gnawing emptiness inside. Her mother’s arms enveloped her, but she felt distant, lost in a sea of despair.

“It’s not fair,” she cried, her voice muffled against her mother’s shoulder. “It’s not fair that I’m the one who’s hurt, and he just gets to run away.”

“I know, honey. I know,” her mother murmured, holding her tight as if to shield her from the pain. “But you’re stronger than this. You’ll get through it.”

But in that moment, as she clung to her mother, she felt anything but strong. The world outside the hospital window continued, people going about their lives as if nothing had changed. But for her, everything had shifted, and she didn’t know how to find her way back.

PRESENT TIME

The barn smelled like hay, leather, and the faintest trace of saddle soap—familiar, comforting scents that grounded her. She moved with practised ease, brushing down Luna, her mind quiet for the first time in days. Her mare’s grey coat shimmered under her hands, and the steady rhythm of the brush helped drown out the restless thoughts that always lingered too close.

Out here, surrounded by the soft sounds of the horses shifting in their stalls, she could almost forget. Forget the past, forget the pain, forget the way her life had derailed eight years ago and the way it had never really gotten back on track.

The barn door creaked open, and she glanced up to see her childhood best friend, Heidi, walking in with a stack of freshly folded saddle pads. She and Heidi had worked this barn together for years now, caring for the horses, prepping for the local shows. It was their world, their escape from everything else. Although, as her and her boyfriend Daniel were getting serious, she was working less hours.

Heidi set the pads down on a tack trunk and stretched her back, groaning as if she’d been doing manual labour for hours. "Why do we do this again?" she teased, eyeing Luna. "Surely there’s an easier way to make a living."

"Could always take up bull riding," she shot back dryly, not looking up from her work. "I hear there’s good money in it."

Heidi snorted, leaning against the stall door. "Yeah, well, we both know what that road leads to."

Silence fell between them for a second, thick and familiar, before Heidi cleared her throat. “So… guess who’s back in town?”

She didn’t even pause her brushing, keeping her movements smooth, controlled. “No idea,” she muttered, eyes fixed on Luna’s glossy coat. “Who?”

“Max.”

The name hung in the air like dust motes caught in a sunbeam—small but impossible to ignore.

Her hand stilled for just a moment, her grip tightening on the brush. She forced herself to keep going, resuming the strokes over Luna’s back like nothing had changed. “Huh,” she said after a beat, voice carefully neutral. “Didn’t think he’d come back.”

Heidi folded her arms, watching her closely. “Yeah, well, he’s here. Saw him at the feed store this morning. Said he’s back for good.”

“Good for him.” She switched sides, moving to Luna’s other flank. “Guess the big, glamorous rodeo life didn’t turn out the way he wanted.”

Heidi’s eyes narrowed, her lips twitching into the slightest smirk. “You don’t care?”

“Why would I care?” She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “It’s been eight years. I’m 25 now, have my life and I’ve moved on.”

“Have you?” Heidi’s voice was soft but knowing. She didn’t move from her spot at the stall door, and for the first time, her friend’s presence felt a little too close.

She gritted her teeth, focusing on the repetitive motion of the brush. It was easier that way, focusing on something else. Something solid. “I don’t see what it has to do with me,” she said after a moment. “He left, I stayed. End of story.”

Heidi raised an eyebrow. “Right. Except it’s not the end, is it?”

She didn’t respond, didn’t trust herself to say anything without the flood of emotions she’d worked so hard to bury spilling out. She hadn’t even thought about Max, not really. He was just a part of the past, a chapter she’d closed long ago. Or so she told herself.

But the truth was, she had thought about him. In the quiet moments, when the ache in her leg flared up and the memories of that day—the day everything fell apart—came rushing back. She hated herself for it, but sometimes she wondered what it would have been like if he had stayed, if they’d faced it together instead of him running off to chase his dreams.

“You know…” Heidi’s voice softened, her teasing edge fading. “It’s okay if it still bothers you.”

She scoffed, shaking her head. “It doesn’t. He’s nothing to me anymore. That part of my life is over.”

Heidi didn’t buy it. She never did. They’d been friends too long for that. “You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

Her chest tightened, the brush stalling in her hand again as the words scraped against the raw parts of her heart. She hated how Heidi could see through her so easily, could read the cracks in the armour she’d built so carefully. “Heidi, I’m fine. Really.”

But Heidi wasn’t letting it go. “Come on. You can act like you don’t care, but I saw the way you froze when I said his name. You think I don’t know? It’s okay if this shakes you up. You don’t have to pretend.”

“I’m not pretending.” The words came out a little too fast, too sharp, and she winced at the way they echoed in the barn. She set the brush down, her hands suddenly trembling, and wiped them on her jeans, trying to shake off the feeling that had wrapped itself around her chest like a vice. “I’m not.”

Heidi didn’t say anything, just stood there with that same patient, knowing look. She had the decency not to push further, but she didn’t need to. The damage was already done, the emotions bubbling just beneath the surface now.

She let out a long breath, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Look, I’m just focused on work right now, okay? Max can do whatever he wants. He’s got nothing to do with me anymore.”

But even as she said it, she knew she was lying. Knew Heidi could see the truth. And somewhere deep down, she was afraid—afraid that no matter how much time had passed, no matter how hard she tried to pretend otherwise, Max Verstappen still had the power to turn her world upside down.

Heidi gave her a long, searching look, then finally nodded. “Okay,” she said quietly. “But just know, if you ever need to talk, I’m here. I know it’s not as simple as you want it to be.”

She swallowed hard, her throat tight. “Thanks.”

As Heidi turned to leave the barn, the silence rushed back in, pressing heavy on her shoulders. She picked up the brush again, returning to Luna ’s side, but her movements were slower now, distracted. The rhythm was gone, replaced by a tangled mess of thoughts she couldn’t quite push away.

He was back.

And as much as she wanted to pretend it didn’t matter, she knew it did. More than she’d ever admit.

And after that news, there was only one person she wanted to see.

The familiar creak of her mother’s screen door was like stepping into another life, one she wasn’t sure how to fit into anymore. The house hadn’t changed—same wooden porch swing, same flower pots overflowing with wild daisies. It was the kind of place that felt frozen in time, which used to be comforting. Now it just felt suffocating.

She knocked once before pushing the door open, stepping into the cosy warmth of the kitchen. Her mother stood by the stove, stirring something that smelled like cinnamon and butter, her apron tied loosely around her waist.

“Hey, honey,” her mother said without turning around, as if she’d known she was coming before the door even opened. “Didn’t think I’d see you today.”

She shrugged, kicking off her boots at the door like she always had. “Just thought I’d stop by.”

Her mother glanced over her shoulder, her brow creasing slightly as she took in her daughter’s tight expression. “Everything okay?”

She didn’t answer right away, instead walking over to the kitchen table and pulling out a chair. The wood scraped against the floor, breaking the silence between them. “He’s back.”

Her mother stilled, the spoon pausing mid-stir. For a moment, there was nothing but the ticking of the old clock on the wall and the faint sound of the wind rattling the windows.

“Max?” her mother finally asked, her voice cautious.

She nodded, running her hand over the worn edge of the table. “Yeah. Heidi saw him earlier and said he’s back for good.”

Her mother sighed, setting the spoon down on the counter before wiping her hands on a dish towel. “And how do you feel about that?”

“I don’t.” She leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “It doesn’t matter to me. He can come and go as he pleases.”

Her mother gave her a long, patient look—the kind only a mother can give, the one that sees right through every defence. “You sure about that?”

She scoffed, glancing away. “What do you want me to say? That I’m still angry? That I haven’t forgiven him? Because I haven’t.”

Her mother pulled out the chair across from her and sat down, folding her hands on the table. “I’m not saying you need to forgive him right away. But holding onto all that hurt… it’s not good for you. Carrying that grudge for so long—it eats away at you, whether you realise it or not.”

She rolled her eyes. “Mum, please. Don’t give me that wisdom-of-the-ages crap. He left me when I needed him. That’s not something I can just… let go.”

“I’m not saying you should forget what happened,” her mother said softly. “But holding onto the anger? That’s like drinking poison and hoping the other person gets sick.”

“Bullshit,” she snapped, standing up so quickly the chair legs scraped against the floor. “I’m not drinking anything. I’m just—” She broke off, her voice cracking. “I’m just fine. I don’t need to forgive him, and I don’t need your advice on how to deal with it. It’s done. It’s been done for years.”

Her mother didn’t flinch at the outburst, only watched her with that same calm, understanding expression. “I’m not trying to tell you how to feel, honey. But you’re not the same girl you were eight years ago. Neither is he. People change.”

“Maybe,” she muttered, grabbing her keys from the table. “But I haven’t changed that much.”

Without waiting for her mother to respond, she turned on her heel and headed for the door, her boots thudding against the wooden floor. She didn’t even bother to say goodbye before she stepped back outside into the cool evening air, the sting of her mother’s words still fresh.

She yanked open the door of her truck, sliding behind the wheel with more force than necessary. The engine rumbled to life, and she gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Grudges aren’t healthy? How could her mother even say that? Of course she was still mad. He’d left her when she was broken—physically and emotionally. Just up and left without a word. She’d been nothing to him, just a stepping stone on his way to glory. And now that glory had turned sour, he wanted to come crawling back?

She slammed her foot on the gas, sending the truck down the dirt road leading away from her mother’s house. The sky above had turned a deep, bruised purple as the sun set behind the hills, casting long shadows across the fields. She didn’t care where she was going; she just needed to get away from the conversation, from the memories that her mother had stirred up.

But the universe, it seemed, had other plans.

Not five minutes down the road, the truck sputtered, jerked violently, and then… silence.

“No, no, no, no…” she muttered, hitting the steering wheel in frustration as the truck coasted to a stop. “Not now.”

She turned the key again, but all she got was the tired groan of an engine that had given up on her just like everything else. Perfect.

She rested her head against the steering wheel, closing her eyes. It was almost laughable, really—how her life always seemed to fall apart at the worst possible times. Here she was, trying to outrun her past, and now she was stuck on the side of some desolate back road with nothing but her thoughts for company.

The irony wasn’t lost on her.

After a few minutes, she pushed open the door and stepped out into the fading light. The road stretched out before her, empty and quiet, with no sign of anyone else for miles. She kicked at the dirt in frustration, her boots scuffing the ground. There was nothing to do but wait.

She leaned back against the hood of her truck, arms crossed, staring at the horizon. She hadn’t wanted to think about him, hadn’t wanted to feel anything about him. But now that he was back, it was like every carefully built wall she’d put up was crumbling all over again.

And maybe—just maybe—her mother had a point, as much as she hated to admit it.

But there was no way she was ready to deal with that. Not yet.

She kicked the dirt under her boots and stared down the empty road, arms crossed, the fading twilight casting a purplish hue over the fields. Her truck sat stubbornly in the middle of the gravel, as immobile and obstinate as her memories. She’d called a repair service, but out here, that could mean waiting an hour or two—or more.

As she leaned against the hood, the air cool against her skin, she heard the low rumble of an engine in the distance. A truck approached, its headlights cutting through the dusky shadows. She straightened up, squinting as it drew closer, a vague sense of unease settling in her chest.

The truck slowed, and as it pulled up beside hers, she recognised it immediately. Of course.

Max.

He leaned out the open window, his expression a mixture of concern and hesitation, like he knew he had no right to stop but couldn’t help himself. “You alright?”

She stared at him, arms still crossed, a muscle ticking in her jaw. “I’m fine.”

He glanced from her to the truck, then back at her. “Looks like you’re stranded.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Sharp as ever, I see.”

He ignored the jab, shifting the truck into park as if he were getting out. “I���ve got some tools in the back. Let me take a look.”

“No.”

He paused, hand on the door handle, confusion flickering across his face. “No?”

“You heard me.” She pushed herself off the hood and walked a few steps toward him, her eyes hard, voice cutting like glass. “I don’t need your help. Didn’t need it eight years ago to get better, and I sure as hell don’t need it now.”

His brow furrowed, his jaw tightening slightly as he held her gaze. She saw the flash of guilt there—the same guilt she’d been holding onto for so long—but it didn’t make her feel better. Not like it should’ve.

“I’m just trying to—” he started, but she cut him off.

“I know what you’re trying to do, Max.” Her voice was sharp, cold. “You feel bad, right? You think you can fix everything with a wrench and a couple of well-placed apologies? But this isn’t something you can fix. You can’t just pop the hood on the past and make it all run smoothly again.”

He stepped out of the truck, shutting the door behind him with a quiet thud, but stayed at a distance, not getting too close. “It’s not like that. I just saw you were stuck. Thought you might need a hand.”

She barked out a laugh, humourless and bitter. “I’m not some damsel in distress. I don’t need you riding in to save me, Max. I can handle my own problems.”

His eyes softened, his voice low as he spoke. “I know you can handle yourself. You always could. But it doesn’t mean you have to do it alone.”

She glared at him, fists clenched at her sides. He didn’t get it. He couldn’t get it. “I’ve been doing it alone since the moment you left. I didn’t have a choice.”

The words hung heavy between them, the weight of years of anger and hurt settling like dust around them. He took a breath, about to say something, but her eyes flicked to the back of his truck.

The bed of his truck was cluttered with various tools, and there, half-buried under a coil of rope, was a large, well-worn toolbox.

“Give me your tools,” she said suddenly, her voice hard. “That’s all I need from you. Hand them over and go.”

He blinked, caught off guard. “You want to—”

“I said, give me the tools,” she repeated, the steel in her voice leaving no room for argument. “I’ll fix the damn thing myself. I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty like those podium princesses you’ve been hanging around.”

The barb hit its mark, his expression tightening just enough for her to notice. But instead of snapping back, he walked to the back of the truck, pulling the toolbox out and handing it to her without a word.

She snatched it from him, the weight of it familiar and grounding. “Thanks. Now go.”

For a moment, he didn’t move. He just stood there, looking at her like he wanted to say something more, something important. But she wasn’t in the mood for whatever half-baked apology or explanation he thought would make up for everything.

She glared at him, daring him to argue, to push her any further.

Finally, with a slow nod, he turned and walked back to his truck. She watched as he climbed in, the door shutting with a soft click. He didn’t look back at her as he drove away, the sound of his engine fading into the distance.

She stood there for a long moment, the toolbox in her hands, her chest tight with the familiar swirl of emotions she couldn’t seem to shake.

This was better. She’d handle this alone, just like she always had. She wasn’t that broken girl anymore, waiting for someone to come along and pick up the pieces. She didn’t need anyone—especially not Max Verstappen.

She set the toolbox down and crouched beside the truck, wrench in hand, ready to prove to herself, once again, that she could do it. That she didn’t need anyone else to fix what was broken.

part two

[rowdyluv]

Sleepless in Pittsburgh

Summary: Sidney and Y/n are supposed to be taking turns getting up at night to take care of their infant.

Warnings: none?

Notes: request @thedevilrisen

In the quiet sanctuary of their suburban home, Sidney and Y/n danced a nightly ritual that was as tender as it was tiring. Their baby girl, a delightful bundle of eight months, had just been fed and was now nestled in Sidney's strong arms, her eyes drooping as she fought the call of sleep. The nursery, a soft palette of pastels, hummed with the gentle white noise machine designed to help soothe her, a modern lullaby that filled the room. Y/n, her hair tied back in a loose bun, moved quietly, finishing up the bedtime routine. She glanced over at Sidney, who wore a look of quiet determination, his soft gaze fixed on their daughter's sleepy face. His eyes filled with raw pure joy and love. Emotions that strong had only ever been shared with her before.

With a soft sigh, the baby's eyes finally closed, and Sidney carefully placed her in the crib. The couple exchanged a knowing look, one that spoke of shared responsibilities and silent promises. They had agreed to take turns getting up in the night to ensure that neither was overwhelmed by the constant wake-up calls. It was a plan that had worked well, or so Sidney thought. Y/n had been shouldering more of the childcare lately, and it was etched on her face, in the dark circles beneath her eyes and the way she moved with a slightly slower grace than usual. He felt a twinge of guilt, but also a fierce protectiveness. He knew she was tired, but she never complained, not even when he could see her stifling yawns. She would never complain about being tired because of a little extra responsibility on her because Sidney was a little more busy with work. She knew way before the thought of having a child ever entered her mind that this would be a different rodeo.

Sidney held out his hand to Y/n, and she took it gratefully, her own feeling small and cold. They padded out of the nursery together, the floorboards creaking slightly under their weight. As they entered their bedroom, the room was bathed in the soft glow of the moon, which streamed through the curtains and painted intricate patterns on the wooden floor. The room was a sanctuary of their own, filled with the faint scent of the vanilla candles Y/n had lit earlier to create a calming atmosphere. Their bed looked inviting, the crumpled sheets whispering of a much-needed rest.

Sidney could see the exhaustion etched in every line of Y/n's face as she climbed into bed. Him being gone for road games and simply being so worn out from home games, she was getting up more often than not. Plus she was here all day with the little one and it was taking a toll on her. He had noticed it in the way she had been quieter than usual, and how she sometimes forgot simple things like where she had put the baby's pacifier, and it would still be in her hand. As he sat down next to her, his thoughts swirling with love and concern, he made a silent vow to do more. He didn't want her to bear this burden alone. He couldn’t become that type of dad.

Gently, he kissed the top of her head, his lips lingering for a brief moment, a silent promise of support. She leaned into the touch, closing her eyes and letting out a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world. They both knew the baby could stir at any moment, but for now, they had a few precious minutes to themselves. Sidney pulled the covers up to their chins and wrapped an arm around her, feeling her body melt into his warmth. The room was silent except for the steady rhythm of their breathing, which synced up almost immediately.

They lay there, the moonlight playing across their faces, the lines of fatigue standing out in stark relief. Sidney studied Y/n's features, the way her eyelashes fanned out on her cheeks, the soft curve of her nose, the gentle slope of her neck. She was beautiful, even exhausted. He felt a pang of regret for the moments he had missed, the nights he had been away for his games, unable to share in the middle-of-the-night moments that had bonded them so deeply.

The sudden wail of their baby girl pierced the quiet, jolting them both awake. Sidney sat up, his heart racing. Y/n's eyes snapped open, and she started to push herself up, but he placed a firm, reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I've got this one," he whispered, his voice low and steady. She looked at him, a mix of surprise and relief in her eyes, and nodded, collapsing back onto the pillow. Asleep almost instantaneously.

Sidney slid out of bed, his bare feet landing softly on the cool floor. He knew the drill by heart now; tiptoe to the nursery, check on her, soothe her, lay her back down, and maybe get a little more sleep before the next round. The crib's mobile twirled gently in the dim light, casting shadows on the walls. He picked her up, her small body fitting perfectly into the crook of his arm, and cradled her close to his chest. Her cries grew quieter, and she nestled her head into the nook of his shoulder, seeking comfort. He rocked her gently, feeling the weight of her trust in his arms, and he was filled with a fierce love that seemed to surpass any tiredness he felt.

As he sat in the rocking chair, he couldn't help but think of the times he'd seen Y/n do this. The way she'd coo and whisper sweet nothings, the gentle strokes of her hand on their daughter's back, the way she'd rock back and forth with such a natural rhythm. It was moments like these that made him realize just how much she did for their little family. And it was moments like these that he realized he needed to do more to share the load of work.

After soothing their baby girl back to sleep, he gently placed her back into the crib, the soft cradle of the mattress welcoming her tiny form. As he backed away, her eyes fluttered for a moment, as if she was searching for the source of the movement. He held his breath, willing her to stay asleep. When she finally settled again, he let out a sigh of relief and turned to leave.

Sidney tiptoed back to his and Y/n’s shared bedroom, his steps measured so as not to disturb the peaceful silence. He slid into bed next to her, feeling the warmth of her body as she stirred slightly in her sleep. He watched her for a moment, her chest rising and falling evenly, and allowed himself a small smile.

The digital clock next to the bed read 4:00 AM. He knew that this was likely not the last time the baby would wake up tonight. It was a cycle that had become all too familiar. But this time, something was different. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Y/n needed the rest more. He’d been up three times now, her twice. He didn’t want her up again if possible.

So, he made a decision.

He would stay in the nursery for the rest of the night.

Sidney carefully picked up the baby again and made his way to the rocking chair, the old oak creaking gently as he sat down. The chair had been a gift from Y/n's mother, a relic from her own parenting days, and it held a certain charm that filled Sidney with warmth. He tucked a blanket around both of them, the soft fabric brushing against his skin, and began to rock. The chair's steady motion was almost hypnotic, and he found himself slipping into a light doze, his eyes flickering open every few moments to check on their daughter.

The baby's breathing grew even, her tiny body relaxing in his embrace. He felt her heartbeat against his chest, a gentle reassurance that she was safe and loved. The room was bathed in the glow of the nightlight, casting a soft blue hue across the nursery. He studied her features, so much like Y/n's, and felt a swell of pride that washed away his weariness. He whispered a promise to her, one that only the two of them would ever know, to be the best father he could be for her.

"I'll always be here for you, little one," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I'll protect you, love you, and support you, no matter what life throws our way." He kissed her forehead, feeling the warmth of her skin and breathing in her sweet baby scent. It was a promise that seemed to echo in the stillness of the room, a vow that filled him with purpose and resolve.

Her tiny hand curled around his finger, and he marveled at the way she held on so tightly. It was as if she understood the gravity of his words, as if she was already counting on him to be her rock. He stroked her cheek with his thumb, feeling the velvety softness of her skin. "You're going to have the best life, I promise," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You'll never have to doubt how much you're loved by your momma, by me, or my teammates. The new ones that find their way onto the team will love you.”

Y/n's voice, soft and warm, floated into the nursery from the doorway. "You'll just have to figure out who loves you most," she said with a tired smile, her eyes still heavy with sleep. Sidney looked up to see her leaning against the doorframe, her silhouette framed by the dim hallway light. “Did you forget that this was on?” She shook the baby monitor. “Your chatter was interesting to wake up to and not find you in the bed.” She giggled.

"I guess I did forget," he laughed, the sound low and rich, bouncing off the walls of the quiet room. It was a rare moment of levity in the tapestry of their sleepless nights. The baby stirred slightly at the sound but didn't wake, her grip on Sidney's finger tightening. Y/n's smile grew, the shadows playing across her features as she padded closer.

"Thank you," she murmured, her voice a gentle caress in the night. "I know you're tired too, but you're so good at this." She leaned down to kiss him, her hand brushing against his cheek. He could feel the heavy truth of her gratitude, and it was more invigorating than any cup of coffee could ever be. “You have your hockey career that is so demanding, that supports us, and here you are still trying to take on the bulk when you can.” She kissed him once more.

Sidney beamed with happiness, his heart swelling with love for both his wife and their daughter. "This is nothing," he said, his voice earnest. "You're the real MVP here, Y/n. I just want to make sure you get some rest." He grinned at her, his eyes shining with affection. "I think I'll stay right here with my baby girl for the rest of the night."

Y/n returned his smile, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. She knew Sidney was tired, too, but she couldn't deny the comfort his offer brought her. "Are you sure?" she asked, her voice a mere whisper. "You have practice tomorrow."

A simple nod and a genuine smile was all Sidney needed to give her and she was off to bed. Sidney however, was in the rocking chair until 8am holding his little girl happily and lovingly.

[bumblesimagines]

“ you're just a rebound. nothing more, nothing less. “

“ wasn't really under the impression you thought of me that way. “

maddy perez

“ you're just a rebound. nothing more, nothing less. “

“ wasn't really under the impression you thought of me that way. “

pronouns:

"I don't want you to get the wrong idea, you know." A voice you once claimed to loathe cut through the air, bordering on accusatory. You turned your head away from the open window, a cigarette pinched between your fingers. She hated the smell, always complained about it lingering afterward but always invited you back to her place when her mom worked late. 

"Wrong idea about what?" You asked and tilted your head toward the window, exhaling the cloud of smoke and pressing the end of the cigarette against the windowsill before flicking it into the small trashcan tucked away in the corner of the room. Maddy remained in her spot in bed, silky sheets and comforter tugged up but barely covering her. She twirled a strand of black hair around her finger, the gemstone on one of her acrylics shimmering in the light.

"About this. About us. I don't want you to think this will ever get serious. You're just a rebound. nothing more, nothing less. I needed to forget about Nate." She spoke softly despite her icy words. Anyone else might've felt hurt or offended, even disappointed. And maybe you would've too if you had cared enough. The ends of your lips curled and you let out a breathless, husky chuckle that made her gaze jump over to you. 

"Ouch, Madeline, I thought we were becoming friends. Wasn't really under the impression you thought of me that way. But, if it helps with any guilt you feel, I never thought of you as anything other than a rebound too." Her brows knitted. Ever since you knew her, she'd always been overly confident and too sure of herself cause everyone chased after her. "Did you forget Jules and I broke up? Or, well, she dumped me for one junkie only to cheat on her with another junkie. Crazy how the world works, huh?"

"Rue's my friend, asshole. You shouldn't call her that. She's trying to get better." 

"The day Bennett genuinely tries to get clean will be the day pigs fly." You murmured, searching for your phone on her cluttered vanity table. Finally spotting it among the many lipstick tubes, you picked it up and checked for any messages before slipping it into your back pocket. Maddy huffed quietly but otherwise stayed silent on the topic of Rue. 

"You and I-"

"Are just hooking up, Madeline. There are no buts or what-ifs. I'm not catching feelings for you, not in a million years, so save yourself the heartache and let me know if you ever see me as anything else than a rebound." Her jaw clenched and she tilted her chin up challengingly as you picked up your hoodie from the floor and slipped it on.

"What makes you think I would ever catch feelings for you?"

"When we started we were pretty clear what this was, and now you start getting defensive. This isn't my first rodeo. How do you think Jules and I ended up together? She was fine at first then got jealous. You're following that pattern." Your skin still prickled at the thought of your ex and how dismissive she'd been during the breakup. You could only find solace in the fact she'd ended up cheating on the girl she'd dumped you for. 

"I'm not following anything."

"Whatever you say."

[lewmagoo]

diamond cowboy | rhett abbott

description: in which a good ride comes with an even greater reward

pairing: rhett abbott x f!reader

warnings: 18+ only, semi public sex, unprotected piv sex, light choking, begging, overstimulation, creampie, dom/sub undertones

There was nothing like watching your man standing in the middle of the ring, breathless and sweaty, pride glowing on his face as thunderous cheering erupted around him. 

He wasn’t one that craved attention on a regular basis. He preferred a quiet “good job” over dramatic praise. But after a good ride, that kind of over-the-top praise made his heart soar. He was on top of the world, king of the rodeo. The best fuckin’ bull rider there was. 

But there was only one person in the crowd whose approval he searched for. Wild blue eyes flickered to the stands, scanning, hoping, and finally, he saw you. Jumping up and down in the stands, shouting his name, cheering for him. 

His chest flooded with warmth. His face broke into a smile. He thumped his fist against his chest, right over his heart, and you placed your own hand over yours. You were so proud of him. He could see it written all over your face. 

And that alone made it all worth it. The broken bones. The dislocated shoulders. The concussions. The blood, sweat, and tears that had gotten him to this point. As long as you were there, his biggest cheerleader, all was right with the world. 

As he looked into your eyes, the deafening noise of the crowd seemed to fade into the background. “I love you,” you mouthed. 

He grinned. “I know,” he mouthed back. 

It was a good ride. His best ride. The ride that would advance his career and change the trajectory of your lives for the better. 

It was amazing, how far he’d come. After he had left his family’s house and started his life with you, things had changed. He’d come into his own. He was no longer living in the shadows of his father and brother. He felt freer than he’d ever felt before. 

It was only natural that he rode better, too. He had more energy to put into his craft, and it showed. He’d quickly climbed to the top of the rodeo circuit and was now entering into a fruitful riding career. 

You were so unbelievably proud of him. Though watching him ride was often stressful, and seeing him sustain countless injuries made your heart ache, you wanted him to chase his dream. You’d never dream of trying to hold him back from it. 

And it was worth it to see the joy on his beautiful face. He was glowing from the inside out. A diamond cowboy. 

You knew he’d seek you out after he cleared the arena. You made your way down from the stands as quickly as you could, dodging friends who threw congratulations your way, praising your man’s victory. You shouted thanks over your shoulder, breezing through the crowd until you found yourself back behind the stands. 

You kept moving, scurrying to the area marked riders only. You waited at the gate for a beat, knowing Rhett would emerge soon, and you wanted to be the first person he saw when he did. 

You were vibrating with excited energy, bouncing on the balls of your feet, eager to catch a glimpse of him coming toward you. And then, finally, he emerged. Had in hand, as it had flown off during his ride, and he hadn’t bothered to put it back on. His hair was tousled, and he wore a big grin on his face. 

As soon as he saw you, that smile went impossibly wider. He broke into a jog, reaching out to unlatch the gate, slipping through the opening with ease. 

“We did it, baby!” He exclaimed, and you laughed musically as he wrapped his arms around your waist and spun you around. 

“No, you did it!” Came your breathless response, after he set you back down. Your hands came up to hold his face, and you beamed up at him, your eyes shining. 

He kissed you deeply. “Naw, there’s no me without you. I did it because I knew you were up there watchin’ me, cheerin' me on. We did it.”

You hummed, smiling against his mouth. “Alright then, I won’t argue with you, cowboy.” You let your hands rest against his broad chest, where you could feel his heart thudding like racing hoofbeats upon the ground. 

His large, calloused hands gripped your hips, pulling you against him, his body warm and thrumming with adrenaline still. He kissed you again, his lips searing against yours, hot and needy. 

He was always like this after a good ride. A live wire, sizzling and crackling with white-hot energy. You could see it in the way his eyes shimmered in the yellow light cast by the lights above you. 

And you could feel it when he pressed his hips into you, a telltale hardness in his jeans that had your mouth running dry. The glimmer in his eyes darkened into something else. 

It came as no surprise to you, because it wasn’t the first time it had happened. But it still pulled a surprised squeak from you, especially when he pushed you back against the fence, his weight leaning into you. 

“R-Rhett!” You peeped, “here?!”

But you already knew the answer. 

“Need you now, darlin’. All I could think about after I jumped off that fuckin’ bull was how badly I wanted to sink into this little pussy of yours and celebrate my victory.”

“But what if someone sees?” Your resolve was melting as he pressed hot kisses down your jaw.

“They ain’t gonna see,” he replied, “an’ if they do, then we’ll give ‘em a good show. I need my girl now. Can’t wait ‘til we get home.”

And how could you ever deny him? Especially when his teeth were nipping at your skin, and he’d managed to slide his thigh between your legs, already applying pressure where you needed him most, your panties the only thing separating your skin from touching the denim. You were grateful you’d decided to wear a dress. 

Rhett leaned back, hand catching your arm. “C’mere.” Quickly, he pulled you after him, guiding you further from the gates. You soon found yourself between a set of trailers, shrouded in shadow, but only a few steps away from the main path, where anyone could happen upon you. 

That didn’t matter, though. Not when his day old stubble was prickling at your sensitive skin as he kissed and licked down your neck, tasting you, savoring you. He breathed in deep, taking in the smell of you. The perfume he liked, mixed with your natural scent. It drove him wild. 

You were pressed against the outside of the trailer, it’s cold metal sending a chill through the fabric of your dress. But you’d warm up soon enough. 

Besides, you hardly had time to register the coldness when you felt Rhett against you again, hard cock trapped within the confines of his Wranglers, grinding against your lower abdomen. 

He was so strong, teeming with virile energy, keyed up from the high of his ride. You felt your knees growing weak, knowing he could toss you around like a ragdoll and do whatever he pleased with you. It was a strength that came from holding onto thousand pound bulls, hauling bales of hay, and wrangling stray cattle. 

You slid your hands along his defined arms, the muscle flexing beneath the fabric of his cotton shirt. Blue, like his eyes. You could hardly take the time to marvel at it, because his lips were on yours again, tongue slipping into your mouth. He tasted of the beer he’d downed before his ride. 

Beyond you, you could hear voices, and the knowledge that anyone could walk past and see what you were doing sent a shiver down your spine, and warmth blooming between your thighs. 

But again, you were distracted by the man before you, pawing at you, kissing at your skin, nipping at the flesh. Your head was beginning to feel like it was filled with static, your brain short-circuiting with each hot kiss and drag of his fingers. 

And then, suddenly, he pulled back. “Hold on,” he mumbled, moving to reach into the breast pocket of his shirt. He slipped a small packet of wet wipes out of the pocket, and you couldn’t help but smile as you watched him quickly wipe his hands. 

“You came prepared, huh?” You teased. 

His eyes twinkled. “Sure did. I was anticipatin’ a win, figured I’d keep wipes on hand for afterward.”

“You’re a sly dog, Mr. Abbott.”

He smirked as he tucked the packet of wipes back into his pocket. “What can I say? Always gotta be ready to touch m’ girl. Ain’t about to get your delicate lil pussy all dirty with my filthy fingers now.” 

You appreciated him for it. He tried hard to consider things like this. Making sure he was looking out for you, even in the little things, was important to him. 

Your mind went blank, however, when he slid his warm hand down the front of your body, pushing past the fabric of your panties until his fingers struck gold. Already slick for him, your cunt accepted his fingers with ease. He circled your sensitive clit for a moment before he traveled lower, prodding at your entrance. 

Two thick fingers slipped inside you. You whimpered, your knees almost buckling. He held you upright, his arm secured around your waist as he curled those digits within you. You kissed him feverishly, whining against his mouth, fire burning within you, licking at your skin, threatening to consume you whole already. 

You couldn’t help but push your hips into his touch, humping his hand as he fucked you with his fingers. He sped up his movements, just so he could hear the sound of your wetness emanate from between your thighs. 

“You dirty lil thang,” he drawled, eyes narrowing, much like a cat’s. “You fuckin’ love this.”

“Uh-huh,” you sighed in agreement as you pressed your lips to his jaw, sucking on the stubbled skin. 

He moved his fingers faster, deeper, thumb coming up to encircle your now swollen clit. It was almost pathetic, how much of an effect he had on you. He’d barely gotten started and you were already losing yourself, your brain turning to mush at his touch. 

He knew exactly how to angle his fingers to hit that spot inside you that made your toes curl. And then, all at once, he added a third finger into the mix, and your cunt stretched to accommodate it. 

“Oh!” You gasped. 

“Gotta get you ready f’r me, honey,” came his words, breathed hotly into your mouth. 

“I am ready,” you wanted to say, but you were entirely speechless as he moved his fingers hard and fast, enough to jar your entire being. You were so wet, it was beginning to drip down his fingers and coat his palm. 

He kept going, even as he lifted his other hand to unbuckle his belt. You might’ve marveled at the fact that he’d done it one-handed, if you weren’t so distracted by the way he filled you with his fingers. 

Your head lolled back against the cool wall of the trailer, your eyes squeezed shut as you clenched your jaw, body shaking uncontrollably. Faster and faster he went, determined to make you fall apart before he even got his cock in you. 

He shoved the fabric of his jeans aside, his boxers following, just enough to free his achingly hard cock. You could feel it against your hip, and it drew you back to the present as you gasped and reached for it. “Want it in me,” you pleaded, but he shook his head. 

“Not yet. Wan’ you to squirt all over m’ fingers first.”

Whining, you sought out his lips again, and he kissed you languidly as he expertly brought you to that peak. You could feel it building like a storm cloud, threatening to open and bring forth a torrential downpour. 

Your mouths were open against each other. You moaned into his, and he grunted into yours, so desperate to make you come, so eager to bring you pleasure. 

And then, the tension released, and you squealed, legs buckling beneath you as you flooded his hand and your panties with the warmth of your release. Rhett growled, his eyes fluttering as he watched you come apart, trembling as he caught you with his free arm. 

“That’s it, there ya go. Let it all out for me. C’mon, I know you got more in there. Give it to me,” he rasped as he continued to move his fingers. 

You were making such a mess. You could feel it beginning to drip down your legs, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. Finally, Rhett gave you some reprieve, sliding his hand away. 

You watched through hazy eyes as he sucked his fingers clean and murmured “fuckin’ delicious.”

He used the wetness on his palm as lubricant as he wrapped his hand firmly around his cock and gave it a few deliberate strokes. You couldn’t help but salivate over the sight. Even in the dim light, you could see how hard and swollen it was, blushing tip shimmering with molten arousal. You wanted it in your mouth. But there’d be time for that later. For now, both of you were desperate for him to be inside you. 

“Turn,” he commanded, strong hands grasping your hips and turning you so that your back was facing him. He placed his palm against your back and gently urged you to lean forward. You placed your hands against the wall of the trailer as he shoved your dress up again and yanked your panties down your legs, just far enough for him to have access. 

Then you felt him, sliding through your puffy folds. Hard and thick and thrumming with need. “You want it?” He gruffed. 

“Yes,” you sighed, nodding eagerly. 

“Really? Cause you don’t sound like you do.”

“Please, Rhett. I want it. I need it.”

He gave your ass a hearty smack, at which you jolted, gasping sharply. “Fuckin’ beg for it.”

He kept sliding the tip past your entrance, teasing you, never granting you what you desired so badly. “Pl-please, sir. I want your cock so bad, it hurts. I need you inside me, I need you to pump me full, please, please, ple—ah!”

Your final plea was cut short as he shunted his hips forward, filling you all at once. Your eyes watered at the stretch. Your toes curled. Your spine tingled. It punched the oxygen right out of your lungs. 

“There ya go. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” He pulled his hips back before thrusting forward again, and you couldn’t contain the yelp that left you. 

Suddenly, his hand was clamped over your mouth. “Better keep quiet. Don’t want everyone t’ know what a slut you are, lettin’ your cowboy fuck you where anyone could see.” And then, “or, maybe you want that, huh?” Another deep thrust. “Want ‘em all to see how dumb y’ get when my cock is inside ya.”

If only they knew. 

In reality, you were well aware that Rhett would never let anyone see you like this. You both got off on the thrill of it, but he’d never purposely put you in a situation where someone would see you like this. It was why you were pushed into the shadows against the trailer, in a secluded part of the rodeo grounds, and his body was shielding yours. No one could see you over the broad frame of his shoulders. 

He’d protect you always, even in moments like this. Especially in moments like this. Your most vulnerable state. Strung out on desire, brain fuzzy with need, your inhibitions gone. This sight was for his eyes, and his eyes only. And you trusted him to watch over you when you were like this. 

And what a state you were in. Mouth open, eyes shut, shivering under his touch as he held your hips tightly and repeatedly drove his cock into your velvety depths. One of his hands came around the front of your body, disappearing to the place where your bodies met. There, his deft fingers began tracing expert figure eights on your clit, and you threw your head back against his shoulder. 

His free arm supported your weight, muscles bulging as he held you tight, making sure you didn’t fall. His grunts were low against the shell of your ear, animalistic in tone. Feral, in a way. 

Under his breath, you could just barely make out the words “take it, take it, take it.”

And you did. Every inch of him. You’d be sore later, you knew you would be. But you didn’t care. Not when he kept hitting it just right, filling you with such ease and precision. His fingers at your little gathering of nerves had your vision sparkling with electricity, fizzling within the darkness of your eyelids. 

You were still sensitive from your previous orgasm, so it came as no surprise to you that your body was already beginning to climb that peak again. This time it came from deeper within, a flame that had once been dormant, now burning intensely, spreading throughout your entire body. 

The hand that was over your mouth lowered to your throat, and he fucked you even harder as he began to squeeze, fingers pressing into the sides of your neck. He wasn’t cutting off your airflow. No, he was slowing the blood flow, which left you feeling euphoric and lightheaded, as if you were outside of your body, watching him fuck you. 

At that point, you were speechless. Couldn’t utter a coherent word if you tried. All that came past your parted, kiss-bitten lips were squeaks and moans, whimpers and gasps. There were no words to adequately describe the pleasure you were feeling. 

With each push and pull of his cock inside you, you could feel his heavy balls tap against your slick cunt. The sound was lewd and filthy. This entire encounter was filthy. Your panties pushed halfway down your thighs, his jeans haphazardly bunched below his ass. It was a dirty, hurried fuck, and you both loved it. 

With his fingers on your clit and his hand on your throat, you were plummeting toward your end, and he could tell. “That pussy’s squeezin’ me,” he gritted out, “you’re close, aren’t you?”

“Y-y-ye…s,” was all you could muster, as your eyes rolled back. 

He slowed down only slightly, rolling his hips against yours, cock nestled deep. His fingers pressed more insistently against your swollen bundle, and your legs began to tremble. 

He lowered the hand that was around your throat, instead bringing it down to grope at your bouncing breasts, fingers tugging at each nipple. It only added to the shock of bliss already running through you. 

“C’mon, darlin’. Want y’ to come all over me. Make a fuckin’ mess.”

It was right there, just out of your reach, so close you could almost taste it. Warmth blossoming from your head to your toes, intense and all-consuming. Almost there, almost there, almost there. 

“I said, come,” came the deep, commanding growl in your ear. 

And you did. With a strangled cry, you fell apart again, body going rigid in Rhett’s arms as it washed over you. He held you close, grunting as your cunt pulsed around him. The feeling nearly sent him over the edge, but he refused to succumb to it just yet. He was determined to pull one more orgasm out of you before he came. 

He gave you a moment of reprieve, letting you come down slowly from the glorious intensity, your body jolting with the aftershocks. You pressed your hot cheek against the cold exterior of the trailer, in an effort to cool down. You felt as if you’d burst into flames. 

As the haze cleared from your mind, you became aware that Rhett had slowed down, cock nestled deep inside you, in an effort to stave off his end. The evidence of your orgasm had dripped down his shaft, toward his full balls, and it was driving him wild. The fact that he had this affect on you, that he could make you come repeatedly, did wonders for his ego. 

You looked back in fondness at the time you’d first gotten together, and took time to explore one another. Rhett had a reputation. People thought of him as a man whoring cowboy. But in reality, that couldn’t be farther from the truth. 

He’d only been with one other person before you. She was his first everything. First girlfriend, first kiss, first introduction to sex. She was all he’d ever known. He had no idea how wonderfully fulfilling that sex could be, because she, being a little older and more experienced than him, had never taught him. 

It wasn’t until he began a relationship with you that he learned how sweet that connection was. How pleasurable it could be. He was free to explore his fantasies, and learn how vitally important aftercare was. 

Aftercare. Something he hadn’t experienced before. You had shown him how you needed to be cared for after sex, and in turn, you had administered care to him, as well. Your dynamic would switch, at times. Sometimes he was the dominant one. Sometimes you were. But no matter who bore what title, aftercare was non-negotiable for both parties. 

You found that Rhett especially needed gentle reassurance after a particularly intense scene. He doubted himself sometimes, as a dominant. What if he was being too rough with you? What if he hurt you? 

But you were always there to assure him that you trusted him implicitly, that you knew he’d never push you too far. 

It had taken a while to build his confidence, but he’d come a long way since then, and now, the two of you had a healthy dynamic. It was why you both felt comfortable sneaking around like this in public. 

“Y’ still with me, chickadee?” His breathless voice brought you back to the present. 

“Y-yeah,” you managed. 

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “Think ya can give me another one?” 

You let out an unsteady sigh, leaning your head back against him. “I think so.”

Another kiss to your shoulder, his stubble nipping at your skin. “Okay, just need y’to hold on a little longer. ‘m almost there.”

“Mhm,” you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut as you felt him begin to move again. Slowly at first, building his rhythm. 

You were so sensitive, and impossibly wet, so much so that as he moved, the obscene squelch of your slick could be heard. 

His fingers found their way to your throbbing clit again, and you jolted, entirely too sensitive. “Oh!”

His forearm wrapped around your middle, and he held you in place as he began to quicken his pace. Deep, hurried, sharp thrusts that stole the breath from you. You clawed at the side of the trailer, trying and failing to find purchase, in an attempt to hold on. 

Rhett was so big and broad against you, his weight grounding you. In the moment, he was using you for his pleasure, even as his fingers continued to rub at you. He grunted and growled in your ear, rutting deep within you. 

“Gon’ come,” he grunted, as your head lolled back against him and your mouth fell open. “Gon’ fill your cute lil pussy up, make you walk around with me runnin’ down your legs.”

“Pl-please!” You squeaked. You wanted it so badly. Walking around with his cum seeping out of you made you feel claimed. Like you belonged to him. 

“Yeah?” He was growing breathless, fucked out, “that what you want? For me t’ stuff you full of me?”

But you could barely answer because he was hitting your spot just right, and you knew you were going to fall apart again. All you could do was tremble pathetically in his arms. 

He shoved his fingers into your mouth, and you closed your lips around then, mouthing at the digits, using them to muffle your too-loud cries. Rhett’s moans in your ear made your head spin. Low at first, but growing in pitch until they were almost whimpers. 

His mouth was open against your ear, breath hot and heavy. But you were distracted by the swell of his cock within you. Before you even realized what was happening, your third and final orgasm washed over you. It felt like your veins were filled with fizzy champagne. Deliciously warm, almost comforting, as it surged through you. 

You whined deep within your chest, going limp in his arms as you reveled in ecstasy. A sleepy smile graced your features as you heard him gasp sharply, and seconds later, you could feel it. Warmth blossoming within you, seeping out around the edges, painting everything milky white. 

“Tha-thank yo…uuuu,” you babbled, eyes rolling back as he gave you everything he had to give. 

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he sighed, as you went limp in his arms. His own thighs were quaking, muscles fatigued from his ride, and from fucking you, but he remained steady as he caught your exhausted form. 

Slowly, he eased his softening cock out of you, and you hissed softly at the feeling, knowing you were going to be sore later. But he was there to soothe you, loving fingers cupping your soaked pussy, applying gentle pressure. 

“Here,” he hummed, pulling back to turn you gently. He hitched your leg over his hip as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the packet of wipes he’d used earlier. He was careful to wipe you clean as best as he could, in the dark lighting, and the awkward angle. 

“I’ll finish cleanin’ you up at home, alright baby?” He promised. Sleepily, you nodded. With a soft smile, he kissed your nose. “Did so good f’r me.”

You giggled, almost loopy. “Love you,” you slurred. 

He reached up to lovingly stroke your cheek. “Love you too, sweet thing.”

He helped get you looking presentable again, pulling your dress back to where it belonged, wiping the tears you hadn’t even realized you’d shed from your cheeks. “C’mon, let’s get home.”

He quickly pulled his jeans back up and buckled his belt before he bent and grabbed his hat, which you hadn’t even realized had fallen to the dusty earth. Then, a brawny arm was secured around your waist as he guided you out of the shadows. He checked to make sure the coast was clear, and after he was certain it was safe, the two of you made your way across the lot, to the place where his truck was parked. 

Your legs were unsteady the entire way, so he had to hold you upright. You couldn’t help but laugh at yourselves. You felt like a couple of teenagers, sneaking around. In a way, it was exhilarating. 

“You’re walkin’ like a baby deer,” Rhett teased as he led you to the passenger side of his truck. 

“That’s your fault, sir,” you teased right back, jabbing your finger into his chest. “Acting like a sex-starved maniac.”

He grinned before he tipped his hat up and leaned down to kiss you. “Can’t help it. Get so pent up after a good ride. S’the worst when I’m outta town and you ain’t with me. Feel like I’m gon’ combust.”

“Good thing I was with you tonight then, huh?” You said with a good-natured smile. 

He tapped your nose playfully. “Get in the truck, chickadee.”

With a mock salute, you climbed inside, and once you were settled, he shut the door behind you and came around to his side, climbing in and starting the engine. 

You snuggled against his side the entire ride home, feeling rather sleepy after the events of the night. In fact, you managed to fall asleep for the remainder of the drive, waking only when he came to a stop in your driveway. 

“C’mon now, sleepy girl. Let’s getcha inside so I can clean you up proper.”

He coaxed you out of the truck, and you held his hand as he led you up the porch steps and into the house. You let him take the reins, because you were much too drowsy to be of much help. He took you upstairs, and there, you climbed into the shower together. 

The water made you somewhat more alert, and as he began to rinse you down, you stayed his hands. “Wanna take care of you too,” you said. 

So, you took the time to tenderly scrub him down as well, wanting to show him love. You spent a long while tending to each other, relishing in the closeness, the intimacy. Both of you enjoyed aftercare immensely, even more than the sex act itself at times. It was a way to show reverence and appreciation to the other. 

“You’re so good t’ me, baby,” Rhett lulled, and you hummed at his praise, kissing at his chest. 

“You deserve it,” came your reply. 

He hugged you close before he finally shut off the water. He leaned out of the shower to open the towel warmer you kept nearby. A device that he’d scoffed at in the beginning, claiming it was a ridiculous and frivolous waste of money. But he had to admit, he loved the thing. There was nothing better than getting out of the shower and wrapping up in a nice, warm towel. 

He wrapped you in yours before he grabbed his own. Together, you set about completing your evening routine. Rhett helped massage lotion into your skin, and you did the same to him. 

A little while later, all cozy in clean pajamas, you found yourselves sitting cross-legged on the bedroom floor, close enough that your knees were touching. A pint of chocolate ice cream sat between you both. 

“How does it feel to be king of the rodeo?” You asked with a smile. 

He shook his head. “You’re speakin’ too highly of me.”

“It’s true. You’re making a name for yourself, Rhett. Nobody even refers to you as ‘Royal Abbott’s son’ anymore. They see you. Rhett Abbott, Pro Bull Rider.”

Rhett’s eyes glimmered as he sucked a scoop of ice cream from his spoon. “It feels damn good. But like I said earlier, there’s no me without you. I’m where I am because you pushed me to be better. You showed me life was worth livin’. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

You tried to protest, but he shook his head. “You’re my saving grace, darlin’. Always have been, always will be.”

You couldn’t help the tears that welled in your eyes. Leaning forward, you stole a sweet kiss, too verklempt to utter a verbal reply. You loved that he could go from rough and tumble to tender and loving just like that. As if he hadn’t just taken you within an inch of your life at the very public rodeo grounds. 

He was back to being your soft, gentle cowboy whose heart was often too big to fit in his own chest. But what he couldn’t fit within his rib cage, you held delicately in your hands, promising never to break it. 

“I love you,” you spoke for what felt like the hundredth time that night. But you’d say it a hundred more without thinking twice about it. 

“I love you more, chickadee.”

“I love you most.”

-

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