#cowboys stars sit

[phatcatphergus]

Guys tubbo on a horse completing bounties with his daughter is so rogue cowboy core

[icecreambeach]

FATHERHOOD: ACHIEVED

[turojo]

Nerds.

[babygirlcowboy]

I miss my brother :((

[ennabear]

ʕ≧ᴥ≦ʔ cowboy!abby brainrot has me doing backflips lately… specifically ab/happy trail riding… 18+

propping herself up on her elbows, she sits and stares at you with a cocky grin, watching as you helplessly rub yourself on her abs. a glistening trail of your arousal paints her pale stomach in a clear glitter that sparkles and sticks to your folds as you move your hips. her pout returns as she notices you unable to get off on her abs alone, so she grabs your thighs and maneuvers you lower, briefly restricting your movements until you’re settled just below her belly button.

the coarse trail of hair that crawls up from her bush adds a new level of friction, causing you to speed up your movements and completely soak it in an instant. whines claw their way out of your throat, but abby shushes you gently, saying “you don’t want them hearin’ us now, do you?” and gestures to the group of cattle farmers on the other side of the barn walls.

your thighs quiver as she traces circles on your hips, the soft, tickling sensation adding to your arousal. your moans suddenly amplify as you inch closer to your orgasm, so abby has no choice but to grab the bandana from her neck and tie it around your mouth. “that’s it, now give it to me.”

and with that, you’re feeling nothing but intense pleasure washing over you. stars sparkle in your vision, hearing momentarily impaired as you flow through your dizzying orgasm. before you can come down fully, abby is untying the bandana and leading your head down to her happy trail. “better put that mouth to good use babygirl, clean up the mess you made.”

[erensgirldeerie]

Low in love

★ 5.1k words — cowboys! eren n ony, pwp , afab black! coded reader, hyper fem reader, eventual sex, threesome, light choking, m+f oral, crying, some squirting & creaming, sensitive/crybaby reader, pet names: angel, princess, etc., not proof read sorry, mdni

been down bad for country life w eren n ony :c

The sounds of wet leaves crunching under plastic boots, the sky sad with weighted grey clouds, spitting out bolts of lighting startled you awake. Another sleepless night overcome by the noise of rowdy, drunk pedestrians and loud cars honking incessantly. You sigh, pushing yourself off your warm mattress to shuffle to the kitchen, pouring yourself a cold glass of water. “I hate it here” you mumble to yourself, rubbing your eyes and staring out your apartment window at the group of grown men shouting and stumbling about in the rain. 

Your mom came out after you, sitting at the kitchen island and making herself a cup of tea. “You're really moving” she whispered softly, letting the statement hang in the air as she sipped her chamomile tea.

“Yeah…” you sighed, rubbing your eyes again as you mumbled “ you know I hate the noise mom.”

She nodded, her shoulders slumping in acceptance. She didn't like the idea of you leaving the city, not when you’d just moved back home from college. The thought of her baby miles south, living in some small town without her made her chest tight. You rounded the island to hug her. Wrapping your arms around her shoulders and pulling her in.

“Mom, stop worrying, you know i'll be fine” you state, squeezing her arms and she relaxes, pulling you closer to leave a kiss on your forehead.

“I know baby, I'm just gonna miss you so much.” she says, hugging you tightly.

You giggled and she smiled warmly, leaning back to pinch your cheek.

“I'm still coming to help you move in though” she said, letting you go and getting up to go back to bed. 

you never liked the city much. You hated the boisterous streets, godforsaken honks of busy cars, and the speediness of daily life. You craved slow mornings, warm breezes and home cooked meals. Your entire childhood you'd spend every summer in your aunt's cottage. Nestled in the corner of a quaint town. You loved how cozy it felt, how welcoming the people were and the work of gardening. You made up your mind to move back to the countryside with your aunt. Missing the wide grassy fields and clean air. The way the stars dotted the sky like jewels hanging from your golden necklace—so dreamy. It's always been your dream to own a little cottage with wild elderberries growing in the backyard and cute farm animals roaming around. 

Your mom never understood why you wanted that, too used to the convenience that came with city life. She always tried to convince you to stay, bringing up how you dropped out of college in your sophomore year and how hard it'd be to run your own plot of land; but you were determined to chase your dream. 

Your aunt, cheerful as always, was happy to have you, always having a hunch you’d come with how you insisted on staying past summer break, begging your mom every year to let you move in with them. It came as no surprise to her that you packed your bags and moved to the same small town you’d spent all your summers in.

Along with her husband, she’d prepared a nice cottage for you. Her husband fixed up the old thing to suit your dolly taste. He’d gotten a couple people to help make new furniture and build the wrap around porch you've always wanted. The cottage was a deep brown, standing in the middle of an acre of land across your aunt’s. It had a windy path leading to the front porch, bushes of pink camellias and white hydrangeas lining the wooden porch. The lovely thing was decorated with a nice porch swing with blush pink cushioning, a table beside it and other seating for guests. It had white daffodils painted on the door framing and a white, lily pillows perched on all the outdoor seatings. The inside of the cottage was cozy and pink. The living room carrying a plush tan couch, plants hanging about and a briar colored fireplace.  Hello kitty motifs dotted the entire space and you squealed, walking around with starry eyes as you drank in your new home.  

The backyard was large and bare, waiting for a cute gardener such as yourself to plant all the yummy berries and vegetables. There was a small barn placed out back, white with red trimming. A baby goat whined as a baby cow nuzzled its face in its back and you giggled turning to your aunt and uncle to pull them into a bone crushing hug. 

“I love it so much!!!” you exclaimed and they laughed, your uncle patting your head lovingly. 

“Glad you liked it, angel.”

“Don’t forget, I'm sending over a couple people to help set up the fence out back okay? Don't want your goat getting out. Trust me, they like to run.” your aunt mused. 

Your mom walked out back shortly after you, impressed she turned to your uncle. “You guys did all this?” she said, peering around the lot.

“See mom, i told you you didn't have to worry” you teased.  

______________________

Your mom stayed for about a weekend, helping you unpack and set up before heading back home.You settled in well, playing with your goat in the back and marking territory to start planting sweet potatoes, pumpkins and other summer crops. Your aunt stopped by a couple times, dropping off milk from her cow and some eggs she freshly harvested. 

“Remember baby, I'm sending over a couple people to make that fence for you okay?” she reminded you, pacing the area of the barn as she spoke. 

“I remember !” you replied, bouncing off your heels with excitement.

The next day came, the sun barely peeking over the horizon when you heard 3 heavy knocks on your front door. Scurrying down the stairs you opened the door to see two huge men standing before you. 

“S’cuse me ma’am, we were sent over by Mrs. Mona about a fence?” The first one speaks. 

You crane your head up, blinking at the handsome man speaking to you. He was pushing 6’4, medium length auburn hair tied back with a couple wisps of hair framing his handsome face. He was sooo dreamy, ocean-green eyes staring down at you with pink lips pulled back in a charming smile. He had a sun-kissed tan that gave way to dulled freckles constellating his cheeks. He wore light washed denim jeans stained from what looked like farm work and a white t-shirt that hugged his sculpted muscles.  You looked over at the man standing beside him, also taken aback by how fine he was. His eyes, dark and low, stared intensely at you as he bowed his dark green cowboy hat at you. He was just as tall as the other, smooth dark skin glistening under the morning sunrays. His thick lips curved into a lazy smile as he undressed you with his eyes. He had a stained, white wife beater on, dark washed jeans held up by a leather belt with a golden ram clasp. 

“O-oh” you responded, surprised by how smooth and deep his country voice was. It washed over you like a cool wave, making you shiver. Your aunt didn't say the people coming were going to be so sexy!!! You nodded, feeling small under their gaze. You now regretted what you wore to bed. Feeling their eyes rake over your figure showcased under the semi-sheer babydoll nightgown you wore to sleep matching the pink bonnet you had on. “Yes, uhm my..my aunt told me yall were coming…i didn't know it would be so early” you explained shyly. “Please, come in!” you stepped back allowing both men to walk in as you scurried towards the back door, waving a hand for them to follow you. 

 pointing out at the space surrounding the barn, you turned to them with a worried expression. “auntie told me that goats like to run…so, i hope you can make a fence around there.” they both nodded, looking at the space you showed. 

“Before that,” the other one finally spoke, his voice low and calm. “we didn’t get to introduce ourselves” he states and your eyes grew wide when it dawned on you that you just let two strangers into your home.

“oh my god! I'm so sorry I forgot to ask your names, uhm what was it again?” you rambled, embarrassed by your carelessness. 

“i’m eren” the brown haired man interjected, smiling. 

“and i'm onyankopon, but you can call me ony”

“eren… and ony, right” you repeated, pointing at each as you said their names. 

“pretty girl didn’t even think to ask our names” eren spoke, letting out a couple tsks as he shook his head and crossed his arms. 

“right, just letting anyone in, what if we were dangerous? hm?” ony continued, a sly smile inching across his face. 

“o-oh, i’m sorry…wasn't thinking” you whined in embarrassment, looking down at your hands and they broke into a laugh at how tense you were. 

“Relax angel, we were just joking,” eren said, patting your head. 

You sighed in relief when he spoke even though your stomach was twisting in embarrassment by their choice of nicknames for you. Their presence was oddly comforting, however. The way eren's baritone voice reassured you while ony placed his large hand on your back to rub soothing circles made your chest tingle with an unfamiliar feeling.

They worked until late in the afternoon, measuring the plot around your barn while talking to each other about wood and other construction terms you knew nothing about. You decided to change, donning a white midi summer dress dotted with floral patterns before busying yourself around the house; unboxing the rest of your room while you allowed them to work outside. 

Around lunch time you peered out your bedroom window to see the two already cutting wood. You stood there, watching as ony pulled off his shirt and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. God he was so fine, all sweaty and parched from the scorching sun sizzling him. You gulped, feeling your tummy heat up with arousal at the way his muscles flexed as he hammered the wood in place. eren was just as enticing, brown hair sweaty and sticking to his forehead. He was looking up, eyes meeting yours and smirking. You jumped back, crouching down and cursing yourself for getting caught gawking. Instead of staying in your room, you decided to be a good host and make them some food as a thank you for their hard work. You made them a platter of sandwiches, some freshly squeezed lemonade and added a couple pastries you baked last night. 

eren walked up to meet you at the back door, taking the platter from your hand and setting it down on the porch table. “Thank you, pretty” he spoke, his voice hoarse from the dry air.

God all the nicknames were really getting to your head. You were a stammering mess, mumbling out “y-your welcome” and looking over his shoulder to ony. He walked over, chest covered in sticky sweat and you licked your lips, trying not to get caught staring again. It seemed eren was the more talkative one of the duo. Asking you questions about the yourself while you poured him and ony a drink. You explained your situation, your dream of becoming a farmer and your recent move.

 “So that's why Mrs. Mona had us working on this house.” ony finally spoke and you choked on your drink. 

“Y-you guys worked on this?”

“Yeah, worked all summer building all this furniture. Even the barn your little animals are laying in.” eren replied and ony nodded, taking another huge bite of his sandwich.

“You guys did such a good job, it's so pretty!!” you exclaimed, rambling on about the intricate wood details of your bedframe and the nice fireplace. They looked at each other, sharing a knowing look before turning to you. 

“Cute” ony mumbles out, continuing to eat. eren nodded along “very cute”

You flushed, brown cheeks heating up. God why were you feeling this way, getting all shy and soft from some silly comments. 

“How ‘bout you stop by my place this weekend for a barbecue were hosting” eren offered “as a thank you”

Your face lit up, already daydreaming of juicy ribs and grilled chicken.“I'd love to! I loooovee barbecues!!” you squealed. 

They thought you were just so cute, bouncing off the walls with excitement over some food.

______________________

The rest of the week they stopped by to work on the fence, staying for a couple hours each day to spend some time with you. You learned that they both grew up in the town, living next door from each other. They've been bestfriends since they were born, their parents also being best friends. You gushed at how cute that was, talking about your friends from the city and how much you missed them. 

You couldn't deny there was some chemistry between the three of you. Combining the way eren looked at you and how handsy ony was, it was hard to draw a line between what was friendly gestures and suggestive talk. They alternated between calling you ‘princess’,’ angel’, and ‘pretty’— all names that made you shy and soft. And they loved it, absolutely drank up your adorable nature. The way your doe eyes looked up at them when they talked to you about construction knowing your head was full of cotton. eren pulling you into his lap and explaining to you the complexities of wood carving while ony fed you some wild strawberries he'd picked. Whenever they came over it felt like your brain jumped out of your head, leaving you dumb and willing to let them do anything to you. ony noticed how glossed over your eyes became when you looked at him, the subtle clench of your thighs when eren wrapped an arm around your shoulders. They werent dumb, they knew they were attractive and knew you found them attractive, even if you were too scared to admit it yourself.

Inwardly you had a dilemma, unable to choose between which one you wanted more. eren was forward and had a boyish charm to him while ony was more laid back and quiet. Both left your thighs shaking every night after you'd spend hours playing with your little cunny, pretending it was one of their dicks instead of your fingers. 

It was embarrassing having to look them in the eye knowing just hours earlier you had your finger rubbing circles on your clit, moaning out both of their names.

______________________

The day of the barbecue came and you rushed to find the perfect outfit, stressed under the pressure of wanting to look pretty for them. You settled on a tan yellow maxi dress. One that clung to your figure and accentuated your curves nicely. It was a perfect contrast to your skin tone, making your brown skin pop. You paired the dress with white sandals and pulled your curly, box braids up into a barbie ponytail. After glossing your lips and fluffing your lashes, you packed your purse and headed off to eren’s house. He texted you some instructions on how to walk from your home to his, but you found yourself getting lost; so he opted to facetime you and direct you instead. 

Once you got there, you noticed it was pretty packed, a decent amount of people spilling out of his large country style home. He walked through the crowd to find you, pulling you into a warm hug. “There's my girl”

“So many people here ‘ren” you pouted looking around and the people surrounding his backyard pool.

“‘its like this every year” he chuckled, taking your hand and leading you to a seated area under a large oak tree where ony was perched on a lounge chair, a red solo cup in hand. 

“ony!!” you squealed, letting go of eren’s hand to plop on his lap and hug him.

“hi princess” he squeezed you close, leaving a peck on your forehead. “happy you could make it” he gave you that handsome smile, white teeth on display as he leaned his head back to take a look at you. 

They both looked sooo good today, eren in his loose green swimming trunks with his washboard abs on display and ony in some basketball shorts and black t-shirt. 

They chatted you up for a while, ony handing you some juice and a plate piled with grilled meat and mac and cheese. you scarfed it down, eyes closed because each bite was just sooo good. they watched, amused by the theatrics you put on while eating. you didn’t even notice they stopped eating just to watch you suck the sauce off your fingers, their mind flooding with filthy thoughts of what that mouth could do. 

The barbecue was really fun. You were able to meet some new people in town and exchange numbers with a couple girls you could hang out with. You spent most of your time under the tree though, talking to whoever walked by. Time flew so fast you didn't even realize it had already become dark until you saw groups of people leaving. At some point eren and ony had left you side, going to mingle with people which you didn't mind. That was until you saw them talking to two girls near the back door. They were pretty, real classic country beauties; one with blond hair and the other a brunet. They were laughing about something and that pissed you off. What was so funny? And why didn't they invite you to come talk.Your chest was tingling with jealousy, what were those two bitches doing chatting up your men. It was embarrassing to admit it but you were jealous. Your mind, a very fragile thing, was filling with paranoid thoughts. Did they like those girls? What about you?  Were they just playing with you because you were the new girl? You really like both of them and whatever y'all had going on, you didn't want it to be some meaningless fling. Already you were crying, bottom lip wobbling and fat tears rolling down your face. 

eren, looking up from the girl he was talking to, catching you out of the corner of his eye. His chest panging with pain at the sight of your crying. He quickly ended the conversation to go to your side, ony following after. He kneeled beside you, hand moving to cup your cheek.

“Angel, what's wrong?” he cooed, eyebrows knit with worry. ony standing on your other side, his reassuring hand rubbing circles on your back. You raised your head to look at eren, eyes watery and face fallen. 

“A-are they you guy’s girlfriends?” you asked meekly and they looked at each other, confused. 

“Girlfriends?” ony asked, perplexed. “Baby, we don't have any girlfriends.”

“O-oh, well i just saw you with those girls and i thought…” your voice trailed off, looking down at your feet. eren signed, thumb wiping away your tears. “Mama, they’re just our friends… you're the only one we want.” 

“You mean that?” you asked

“Of course we mean that” ony answered softly, reaching down to pick you up. He held you princess style in his strong arms, pushing past the last few people outside to take you in, eren trailing behind. He took you up the stairs and into the master bedroom, placing you on eren’s black, silk sheets. 

“How ‘bout we prove it to you, hm?” ony said, his voice low and sultry.

You gulped, arousal pooling in your stomach. His eyes were dark, swimming with lust, face inches from yours. You shyly nodded, biting your bottom lip. 

“Use your words, princess” eren spoke, santuring towards you.

“Y-yes… please” you whispered.

“Good girl~” ony growled. “Now lean back.”

You did as you were told, leaning back while eren climbed on the bed. He seated himself behind you, his head on the headboard and his arms pulling you between his thighs. onys hands went to your thighs, pulling them apart and pushing up your dress. You lifted your hips, making it easier for him to bunch the fabric around your waist. “Raise your arms” eren whispered in your ear and you obeyed, allowing him to pull off your dress while ony tugged your panties off. You whimpered in embarrassment, watching as ony slid a thick finger between the chubby lips of your slick pussy. “Such a pretty pussy mama, you've been hiding this from us?” He mumbled, lips lowering to leave a kiss on your throbbing clit. He used his fingers to spread your lips, moaning at how your hole clenched around nothing. “Fuck, sooo pretty.” he groaned. His tongue darted out to lick a long, flat, stripe up your pussy, leaving you mewling in eren's lap. eren's hand cupped the mounds of your breasts, his warm breath tickling your ear as he spoke. “You like the feeling of his tongue, baby? Like the way ony sucks on your clit?” you moaned, nodding your head and gasping. eren fingers tweak your nipples, his lips pressed to your neck and trailing hot kisses up it. You feel his bulge pushing into your back; his hips slowly grinding against you. ony didn't let up, his tongue alternating between flicking your clit and sliding in your sweet hole. He thrusted his tongue slowly, leaving you arching your back and moaning loudly. Your thighs caged his head in, squeezing tight when you felt his hot lips wrap around your bud and suck. “D-daddy please!” you whined, warm pleasure coursing through your body. You felt your stomach knot up, hips jerking upwards and grinding into his mouth. His hand slapped your thigh, fingers gripping your soft flesh hard and pulling them apart, He lifted his head to look at you with faux disappointment. “Greedy thing, can't even let daddy enjoy his meal.” “ ‘m sorry daddy” you cried out, eyes rolling back at the feeling of his mouth swallowing your pussy whole. ony made out with your cunny, two fingers delving into your hole to stretch you out. You screamed, feeling the knot in your stomach about to snap. “Gonna cum! gonna cum!” you whimpered, your whole body humming with pleasure. ony sucked on your clit harder, thrusting his fingers faster, coaxing your high out of you. “That's it baby, cum on daddy” eren muttered, his hand cupping your face and turning it to the side so he could kiss you. He slid his tongue into your mouth, swallowing your moans as your body tensed. You felt a wave of please crash into you, your body thrashing and writhing. ony drank down your release, his fingers moving to rub tight circles on your clit while his lips cupped your hole, sucking out your yummy cream and licking up the rest. “Mmmm taste so sweet, mama.” he groaned, licking his lips. “Can’t take it, need to feel that tight pussy.” 

ony flipped you over, cursing at the visual of your ass bouncing. He reached down to position you on your knees, hand pushing your back into a deep arch. eren spread his thighs, working his pants off and letting his length slap his lower chest. Your mouth watered, eyes locked on the flushed red tip of his dick. It was so pretty, standing at 7 inches long, with crazy girth. You gasped feeling the bulbous tip of ony’s dick poking your hole. He pushed in slowly, “fuuuuucckkk” he moaned lowly, “pretty pussy’s sucking me in so good, angel.” He pushed more in, slowly feeding you inches of his deliciously thick girth. You reached an arm back to put your hand on his stomach. “too muchhh” you whined and he grabbed your hand, kissing the back of it and using it as leverage to push the rest of his dick all the way in. You screamed, falling forward into eren’s lap, his dick slapping your cheek. eren grinned down at you, cupping a hand under your chin to raise your head. “aweee, is it too much? can’t take it?” he mocked you, grabbing his dick with his other had to tap your plump lips with. “open up, baby.” his dick pushed past your lips, making you gag as eren pushed your head down on his length. ony chuckled at your gagging noises, grinding his dick in your pussy. He gave you a couple shallow thrusts, hands gripping your waist to slowly pull you back on his cock. “she’s so fucking tight ‘ren” ony moaned out and eren nodded. “Yeah, perfect throats sucking my dick so well.” you were a sobbing mess, tears wetting your cheeks as you bobbed your head on eren’s dick. erens hand never left your head, the large thing wrapped around your ponytail while he rolled his hips. You whined, moans muffled by spit and precum. ony wasn’t any better, now snapping his hips faster, hands moving to grip your ass cheeks and spread them. He looked down at where you two met, watching the way your pussy sucked in his fat dick. He let out a deep guttered moan, eyes locked on the creamy ring covering his dick every time he thrusted in. He felt your walls tightening around him, legs shaking while he thrusted harder into you. “you like when i fuck this greedy pussy? hmm? sucking me in like you’ve never had dick before” he spat. you moaned around erens dick, sending shivers up his spine. He began thrusting faster into your mouth, closing his eyes as his mouth hung open. “shit princess, keep sucking baby, just like that.” tears pooled onto the sheets as your throat closed around his dick, stars dotting your vision at the lack of air. your whole body was on fire, pleasure spiking your body from all angles. You felt onys thrusts stutter the more your walls clamped and fluttered around him. you were so close to cumming, small hands balled in fists on the sheets as your stomach tightened. “she’s bout to cum ‘ren” ony announced. “me too” eren moaned out. “cum baby, let me feel that juicy pussy squirt.” with his words you felt yourself unravel, body trembling with pleasure while erens hip snapped faster into your mouth, his dick shooting ropes of cum deep into your throat. you felt warm liquid trailing down your thighs, it spraying all over the sheets and coated onys thighs. ony groaned, snapping his hips faster as he chased his own high. you swallowed erens cum, sucking in air and coughing as soon as he released your head and pulled his dick out your mouth. ony leaned down to hook his arms under your arms, his chest flat on your back while he rutted into you wildly. You cried loudly as he thrusted sloppily. He trailed heated kisses down your neck as he came deep in your womb. His deep, low moans singing like music in your ears as he thrusted a couple more times, emptying himself fully in you. “perfect, perfect little pussy” he said between kisses. after a last thrust he pulled out, chest heaving as he looked up at eren and smirked “you gotta try it eren, pussy almost killed me.” you whined at the statement, embarrassed. 

“my turn” eren said, pushing ony off of you. He shuffled on the bed, positioning you on your side, your back to his chest. His strong arm went to lift your thigh as his dick, still hard, grinding through your swollen lips. You whined, eyes barely open and head full of nothing. “Shhh, m’gonna make you feel so good, princess” eren cooed. He slid his dick through your lips a couple times before sinking all the way into your hot pussy. You hiccuped a sob, body twitching as he began thrusting slowly. “Fuck baby, its soo tight” eren moaned out, already speeding up his thrusts. Ony laid on the other side of you, sliding down the bed so he could face your cunny as eren thrusted in. He wrapped his lips around your overworked clit, sucking harshly. You threw your head back, resting it on eren as he pistoned into you. You were so overwhelmed by the pleasure, tongue lolling out your mouth as your brain completely melted. Your hand went to grip onys hair, choking out moans and sobs. Your cries only fueled them, making ony suck harder and eren thrust faster. eren's hand snaked under your body to wrap around your neck, squeezing lightly. “Poor things already going dumb over some cock” he teased. Your body was humming with pleasure, already feeling yourself being sucked into another orgasm. You cried out eren’s name, hand gripping harder on ony’s hair. He released your clit with  pop, fingers taking over as he kissed up your stomach. “Cumminnnggg” you choked out, tears staining your cheeks as another orgasm ripped through your weak body. Your walls clamped around eren's dick and he cursed lowely. “That's it baby, let it all out” ony growled, his fingers still rubbing tight circles on your clit as you squirted for a second time. “Such a sensitive pussy” eren said breathlessly, chasing his own high. He squeezed your neck harder, loving the way it made your pussy clamp down harder on his dick. “Fuck, im bout to cum baby” the growled, his thrusts sloppy and off beat as he orgasmed. He moaned out your name, emptying himself in you and grinding his dick deeper. Your body shuddered, your belly warming up with the sensation of his hot cum filling you to the brim. He released your neck, chest heaving as your body slumped in his arms. “Such a good girl” ony reassured you, scooting up the bed so he could cup your sleepy face. Your eyes hazy and unfocused stared back at him as he smiled. He dipped his head to to kiss your lips softy. eren slowly pulled out, hissing at the slight overstimulation. His large hands caressed your side as he kissed your neck. “You did so good for us princess, letting us use that sensitive pussy.” he whispered. “T-tank you papa” you slurred out, body feeling heavy. “Its okay baby, rest.” ony quietly said, kissing your cheek as you closed your eyes. You felt safe sandwiched between them, relaxed and fucked out.

[frogstappen]

𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧, 𝐮𝐬

best friend!max verstappen x reader / 2.4k

max keeps up your friendly tradition at the us grand prix.

⚠️: friends with a little something more on the horizon. one teeny mention of throwing up in a sleeping bag. cutesy, fluffy, best pal max.

ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ

The world is alive with a kick only found in Austin.

Cowboy hats and cowgirl boots; star-spangled everything and a roaring reception fit for rock ‘n roll stars. Bloodthirst donned in a bolo tie and winning smile.

You swipe through your camera roll, pinching each photo to read the gimmicky banners and count the bullhorn gestures. Giggling when you spot a grown man with a sign addressed to Lewis: I called in sick to watch you race.

Max glances over his shoulder. “What’s so funny?”

You turn your phone.

He squints at the screen, huffing a laugh, then scrolls through some more. “They love and hate with the same passion. It’s actually kind of scary.”

“I love it here.”

You push off the couch and wander over to the window.

The sky is a brilliant blue, dazzling even through the tinted glass. Striking Southern sunlight bounces off each motorhome in the paddock. The lot busies away, polos scurrying from building to building, VIP lanyards shielding their eyes from the sun to take it all in.

Max taps your shoulder with your phone and nods to the door. “C’mon. Time.”

He leads you outside, loosening his elbow to let you slip your arm through his. He turns heads and raises whispers – though none of it seems to bother him. It’s like he doesn’t even notice.

He’s already turning inward, already picturing the starting line behind his eyes. He’s thinking tactics and thinking strategies, making mental notes about turns twelve through fifteen; tire degradation and DRS and not saying fuck or shit or driving too close to the car marked 4.

His eyes lift only for a second. He frowns at some photographers up ahead and positions himself in front as you walk. His head ducks again, giving them little more than a winning shot of his Red Bull cap – and he takes your hand.

“Here,” he says, “We can dodge them.”

He cuts between ferns and life-size driver banners, speeding past crowded bistro sets. By the time they clock him – Was that Max Verstap–? – he’s already thin air.

Through one of the backdoors to the garages, Max pulls you down a darkened hallway.

You giggle, trying not to trip over his heels. Cooler, though not by much, you breathe a sigh of relief and rub the starry sunshine from your vision. When you pull your knuckles away from your eyes, you gasp.

Max halts.

“What?” he asks, twisting around. His hand stays locked in yours. “You okay?”

Your nose bumps against his shoulder as you crane to see properly through the sliver of an ajar door.

Behind a throng of serious faces in white shirts and headsets – a table. Three trophies, tall and slender, polished to perfection. Obnoxious, maybe a little – but glamorous and gleaming all the same.

And right in front of them –

“Are those the podium caps?”

Max studies your face for a moment. A smile threatens the corner of his lips, but he fights it down. He follows your eye to the three hats.

He nods. “Looks like it.”

“Denim, Max. That’s so cool.”

“Well, y’know,” he sniffs, giving your hand a light tug, “It is Austin.”

“I don’t have a denim one. Yet.”

He shoots you a look more steel than blue. You don’t have to speak Max Verstappen to know exactly what it means.

You’ve been collecting his race caps – the rare designs, anyway – for as long as he’s been in Formula One. At home, there’s a whole corner of your closet dedicated strictly to Pirelli.

His very first winners’ cap sits proudly on the tallest hook, all the way to the Canadian maple leaf design that made you squeal when he presented it to you.

He knows the ones you’d like, the second he sees them. Eight years’ worth of victories, turned into something even more meaningful.

Granted, there have been a little fewer than normal lately – but sometimes, you like to pretend he’s in that cockpit aiming for first at least in part to see the smile on your face when he fits the cap on your head.

Still. He stares you down.

“I wouldn’t get too excited,” he says, walking on. “The car is shit, lately.”

“Language,” you hiss, grinning.

Max shakes his head. “I can still send you home, you know. The race hasn’t started yet.”

He’s only jesting – but annoying him is too much fun.

“Oh, you wouldn’t do that. I’m here for sympathy reasons, remember?”

He grunts in response.

Austin wasn’t meant to be on your list this year. It’s one of your favorite grands prix, that’s for sure, but you had planned to miss it this time around on account of the new guy you’d been seeing.

That is – until you called it quits last month.

It had only been a few months – three, if that – but the longer it went on, the more you noticed incompatibilities. Little things, like the way your schedules clashed, or the kinds of places you each liked to hang out.

He was a great guy, and he took it like a champ – which made the bruise sting a little…sharper.

Max let you wallow for three days. He spent a decent chunk of the month’s break after Singapore at your place; ordering you takeout and then refusing to let you pay, waking you up each morning to work out with him. You’d never admit it, but after a while, it got kinda fun.

Then, when it was time to get back to work, he invited you to Austin. You know being there will cheer you up, he said. And besides, I need my lucky charm.

So far – what with the denim Pirelli caps and the front-row qualifying result – he’s fast turning out to be right.

He pauses at the turn into the garage. “How are you, anyway? Feeling distracted?”

You smile, slumping against the wall opposite him. “Very. I forgot how hard this place goes.”

He nods, sipping from his bottle. He glances down the hall towards the echoes of photographers. “Sorry about the…” he waves a dismissive hand, “…Ever since Singapore, they…”

“You don’t think I’m used to it by now, three-time-world-champion?”

He curves his hand around the back of his neck, lips curling. “You wanna watch from the garage again, or upstairs?”

“Upstairs, please. I don’t need another 4D experience of you crashing.”

“Wasn’t exactly fun to me, either,” he says, nudging your arm. He lists directions, reminding you to stay behind the shrubbery to evade the cameras. He makes you swear you’ll text him once you’re seated.

“Do you want my pinkie, or is a blood oath more acceptable?”

“It’s a lot of different tracks, alright? Sometimes even I get lost.”

Your eyes narrow. Liar.

He smirks. “Okay, I don’t. But I also don’t stop to fucking stare at denim hats, so.”

“Go do your job, potty mouth. And drive safe.”

“Mhm.”

“I mean it, Max. Just – aim to finish in one piece.”

He pulls you in for a hug, pressing his lips to your temple.

“I’m aiming for a cap,” he says, and swings into the garage.

It’s Ferrari’s race from the opening lap. No other team gets a look-in.

Charles steals the lead from under Lando’s feet, propelling ahead with Carlos in tow to secure an easy one-two for the Prancing Horse. They hold fast the entire race and – though they are, in theory, two of your best friend’s current enemies – they nail it.

You know that, when you find each other later, Max will tell you the same. He’s never a sore loser when simply lovely racing is involved.

Fifty-six laps and five and a half kilometers later, you’re watching him on the podium.

Well. You’re watching your next collector’s item – on his head – on the podium.

Third place isn’t too shabby for a man perpetually fighting his machine – and even he looks relieved just to be up there. He glances down as the Monégasque national anthem plays, and tilts his head purposefully.

You grin up at him, eyebrows raised. I see it, you send telepathically. I’ve chosen its hook already.

Max is careful not to let it become too soaked during the champagne spraying. He ducks out of Charles’s path, aims his own at Carlos’s back. He’s the first to tip the bottle against his lips and drink, and the others quickly follow suit.

There’s probably a grilling waiting for him in the press tent. Was Norris’s five-second penalty just? How did the car feel during that battle? Do you see the rear-end of a McLaren when you close your eyes at night?

You take the opportunity while the paddock is still quiet to sneak back to his motorhome, falling back onto the double bed. There’s a flatscreen on the wall opposite you; a crystal vase of roses on the marble counter beneath.

Some days you have to remind yourself that, behind all the titles and trophies and treasure – he’s still the same kid who ate so much candy at your eighth birthday party that he threw up in his sleeping bag.

Behind all of it, he’s still Max. Your Max.

Says you can have a go at his racing simulator, then laughs while you fight with the controls. Says he’ll pick you up after a night out, then takes voice recordings of your drunken babbling to play back to your hungover self.

Says, He was a nice guy, but you’re going to be okay – and invites you to Austin to take your mind off it.

You’re watching some real estate show under eyes heavy with sleep when the motorhome door clicks open.

His shadow sways down the narrow trailer, and he materializes at the foot of the bed.

“Hello.”

You lift your head. “Hello, yourself.”

He takes your wrists and pulls you upright, scooping you in a strong hug. He’s soaked in sweat and champagne, race suit hanging from his hips, but you wrap your arms around his shoulders anyway.

His hair is damp, cheeks flushed and heated. His stubble scrapes your skin. He buries his nose in the crook of your neck and sighs.

“Thinking of moving to Mexico?” he murmurs into your shoulder, turning to look at the screen.

“The remote was on the other side of the room. I’m tired.”

“Me, too,” he says. He pulls back.

You take his jaw in your hands. “You did so good,” you whisper, thumbs smoothing the lines his balaclava has left behind. “That battle with Lando – I thought – maybe –”

He scoffs, lazy smirk pulling across his face. “Nah. Light work.”

It warrants the knock you deal his bicep.

Max laughs. “Oh,” he says, and reaches behind his back. From the waistband of his suit, he pulls a slightly dented, very drenched third-place cap. He straightens out the material. “Took it off as soon as we got backstage. Didn’t want my hair to make it all sweaty.”

You take it from his hands delicately, grinning from ear to ear as you tilt it in the light. “It’s so fucking cool, Max.”

He hums. “Here.”

He handles it with the same care you did, for the sole reason that it means this much to you – and Max knows it. With a gentle smile, eyes flitting from yours to your lips, he places the cap over your head and straightens it into place.

“There,” he steps back, “You just won third place at Circuit of the Americas.”

You giggle, turning to catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. “Oh my God, I look so goofy.”

“No you don’t,” Max replies, standing behind your reflection. “You suit it better than I do.”

There’s a beat – a moment, stood against his chest, eyes locked and hearts aligned. You lean back on your heels, and he perches his chin soft on your head.

His hands find your shoulders. “I’m gonna jump in the shower,” he says. “Do you want to head back to the hotel now, or –?”

You shake your head. “I’m good. I’ll wait for you.”

“’kay,” he whispers. He lingers, still scanning the sight before him. Hands still on your body, squeezing in time with your hammering heartbeat.

Probably taking in the oddity of the entire thing, the same way you are. The two of you framed in the mirror, no closer than you spend most days, and somehow – the closest you’ve ever felt him.

Your Max. Who once caught wind that you had a crush on one of the kids in class, and teased you all summer long for it. Who once gatecrashed your horror movie night with Victoria; burst out of the closet in a Ghostface mask, screaming bloody murder.

It’s exactly the kind of feeling you’d text him for advice on. Hey, what do you think about this? I had butterflies today, standing next to this guy.

Exactly the kind of thing that he’d reply with, Does he know you cry at animated movies?

Does he know you say good morning to the birds?

Does he know you burn pancakes anytime you try to make them?

Yes, you’d send. And he doesn’t mind any of it.

Max takes the visor of your cap between his fingers and turns it. “This way for when you’re feeling fancy,” he says, laughing at his own joke the way he always does.

You breathe a relieved laugh of your own. “Sure,” you reply, shaking that feeling free. You turn, hands light on his forearms. Your gaze climbs from his chest to his eyes.

“Thank you,” you whisper, staring into the oceanic home you’ve known since you were a kid. “I’m really glad I came. You, uh…I don’t know what I’d do without you, Max.”

He shrugs – never one to take a compliment without wrestling with it first. “’s not about me,” he replies, tapping your nose with his knuckle. He swallows, shifting between feet, before his chest fills with a deep breath. “Let me take you to dinner. As a thanks for coming, obviously.”

“You mean the hat isn’t my thanks?”

He shakes his head. “I can do better than a smelly denim hat.”

“I’ll bet you can, Verstappen.”

[roosterbruiser]

𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲

A piercing cry slices through the dark--your eyelids are too heavy to wrench open, especially when you’re cocooned under the heavy duvet like you are right now. 

From behind you, molded against your body like he always is when you sleep, Jake’s muscles tense. Rigidly, he sighs into the warm curve of your throat and blinks through the dark. And, yes, there on the baby monitor is your six-month-old baby boy in his silly-looking sleep sack. He’s about to wail, Jake can tell. His little bottom lip’s wobbling and his eyes are shut tight and even though Jake can’t see his hands, he knows his fists are clenched.

“Your son is so dramatic,” you whisper, muffled from the pillow. 

“I thought we decided on theatrical,” Jake whispers back, his voice thin and worn. He peppers a few sloppy kisses to your throat and starts to sit up. “I’ve got ‘im.” 

“You’re my hero,” you mutter, yawning. 

He stretches and then swings his legs over the bed. 

“Kinda my thing,” he says as he stands.

“I love you so much,” you reply. Any other time, with more sleep, you would’ve scoffed at him and given him your best eye roll. But you’re too tired to feel anything but grateful for your husband right now. “Like, so much.” 

Jake laughs lightly, tiredly. 

“I know,” he says cockily, teasingly. 

You don’t respond, already drifting off to sleep again. You’re so tired that you can feel it in your bones--a deep, deep ache that is only exacerbated by frequent diaper changes and excessive feedings and tumultuous tummy times and gas and formula and binkies and board books and burp cloths and baths. 

And even though the baby is definitely about to start screaming, Jake can’t help but pause for a moment in repose as he stands in the doorway in his slouchy sweatpants. You’re sprawled across the bed already--you always say it’s to keep his spot warm but he knows that it’s because you’d sleep in star-formation if you had the choice--and breathing deeply. Your hair is a mess on the pillow and your cheek is smushed. Anyone with eyes can see that you’re exhausted from parenting a very particular, theatrical Seresin baby boy.  

He wants to cross the room again and tuck your hair back from your forehead. He wants to kiss your aching temples and your heavy eyelids. He wants to pull you in his arms, gather all those limbs, and hold you close. 

But he doesn’t want to wake you up.

So, he just smiles gently. 

“I love you so much,” he responds finally. “So, so, so stupid much.” 

And then he’s padding down the hallway, yawning again, but with a smile tugging on his lips. He can hear his son’s whimpers from outside the door and honestly, he’s shocked the screaming hasn’t started yet. 

The sound of artificial rain floods Jake’s ears when he comes into the room, the little sound machine in the corner lulling your son to sleep each day and night. He doesn’t bother turning it off or turning the light on--Jake’s fairly certain he’s adapted to the dark by now anyway. 

There in his crib, the one Jake had to finally ask Javy to help build, is a wriggling and fussy baby boy. His gummy mouth on display as he thrashes his head back and forth and his cheeks ruddy from upset. 

Jake’s heart swells as he strokes his cheek. Sometimes he still can't believe that this sweet little creature--the one with your eyes and his nose and your cheeks and his chin--is all his and all yours. You made him, every bit of him, and he is the most precious thing to ever grace this earth. Jake's sure of it.

“Hey there, cowboy,” he says softly. His son doesn’t let up yet, kicking his legs as Jake unzips the sleep sack. “S’alright, darlin’, daddy’s here.” 

All the tired floods his body and slips out under the door when Jake’s not looking. He holds his son against his bare chest, his body still so small and so soft. But then Jake is kissing the feathery hair on his head and bouncing lightly in his spot, heels digging into the rug. 

“What’s got you so upset?” Jake whispers, lips pressed against his son’s forehead. “Bad dream, baby?” 

Your son doesn’t respond. He just burrows into his fathers neck, his breaths stuttering and his mouth open and drooling. Jake pats his back a few times, kissing his cheek. He inhales his sweet, sweet scent and sighs.  

He loves the way your son smells--he just smells warm. He isn’t sure if it’s the body wash or the lotion or the sheets that does it. But he somehow just always smells good, like home, like you. 

“Let’s take a seat, huh? A little rock and roll never hurt nobody, huh?” He asks quietly as he sits in the rocking chair. 

If you were awake to hear his pun, you would’ve never let him hear the end of it. Jake makes a mental note to tell it to you over breakfast. 

Your son’s whimpers are fading fast, especially when Jake starts to softly rock him, tucking his chin on his head and patting his back softly. 

“Mama thinks you’re theatrical,” he tells your son, eyes fluttering shut. “And you definitely are. Mama also thinks you get it from me--and you absolutely do. Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, cowboy. You gonna be a little actor? Or a little lawyer?” 

Your son babbles quietly, fingers tangled in Jake’s hair as a form of self-soothing. Jake kisses his face a few more times. 

“Or you could just stay here with me and mama forever,” he whispers. 

And he knows that having a son has made him soft--like crying at that one Honda commercial kind of soft--because his eyes grow wet when he thinks of your son getting any bigger than he is now. He never wants a day to come where he can’t pull his son to his chest, sit down in the rocking chair, and make the tears stop. 

"I love you," he whispers. "Me and mama love you so, so much. More love than can fit in this whole world."

When you pad down the hallway, eyes full of sand and sleep from your very few hours slumbering, you don’t even have to touch the walls anymore to orient yourself. You know where you’re going even in the pitch-black hallway. 

Jake’s sleeping when you come into the nursery, the sound machine quiet in the corner of the room. Your son is still in his arms, sleeping against his chest. And God do they look alike right now in the light of the moon--both of them sleeping with their heads resting on each other’s, their mouths open, their fists clenched. 

You came in here to bring Jake back to the bedroom. But watching him hold your son, your sweet boy, in that rocking chair that he built in this room he put together--you decide that a few more hours of comfortable sleep isn’t worth it. Tempurpedic mattress be damned. 

So, you just carefully cross the floor. The rug is soft beneath your bare feet when you lean forward and stroke your son’s head, careful to have a soft touch that will not wake him. And then you’re kissing Jake’s warm cheeks, stroking his blonde locks, too. 

Jake stirs slightly, eyes twitching. Your heart swells. 

You sink onto the floor before the rocking chair, leaning against Jake’s legs. The rain is lulling you already and you yawn as you rest your cheek on his thighs. The rug is comfortable--you’re glad you went for this one. Your son is happy and sleeping and your husband is holding him and everything is right in the world. 

And just as you’re about to fall asleep again, Jake’s thighs cushioning you, Jake’s hand falls into your hair. He strokes a few times in welcome--hi, baby. 

 “Missed you,” you mutter. 

“Missed you,” he returns. His hand glides through your hair. “All’s right in the world now, huh?” 

“Yeah,” you whisper. “It is.”

happy Father's Day to those who celebrate <3

[shotmrmiller]

pretend boyfriend but it's in a time where roads are nothing more than muddy tracks, making travel slow and cumbersome. the town's buildings are a mix of weathered wood and crumbling brick, faded paint peeling off their facades. wanted posters, yellow and tattered, are plastered on every available surface, faces of outlaws and fugitives who roam the countryside depicted in greyish ink.

the townsfolk go about their lives with a wary eye, and you go about yours with a sharp one, in search of opportunity: a cowboy too drunk off his wits to know his right from his left. the humble borough of blackthorn doesn't need any more working girls, no more ladies with hair down to their corseted waists beautifying the arms of both bounty hunters and farm hands alike.

that's fine, you reckon. you've always had a knack for survival. your deft fingers have made a living out of slipping into pockets and relieving men of their hard earned coin pouches when they lose themselves in drink and laughter. its not an easier life than that of the ladies in the saloon but it's yours, and you've learned to navigate it with equal cunning and charm.

but as people say, anything that can go wrong, will and tonight nothing seems to go right for you. just as you'd been slipping the stolen bills from your latest mark in between the swell of your breasts, he stirs from his drunken sleep, bedsheet tangled in his spurs as he struggles to rise onto unsteady feet. his movements are sluggish, muddy brown eyes blinking against the dim light of the quaint room.

you don't wait for him to ask any inane questions, you know when you've been caught with your hand in the cookie jar. you run out the door on bare feet, fisting the rough fabric of your dress to lift it above your ankles as you barrel down the stairs.

your shoulders ache from bumping into patrons as you try to quickly weave your way toward the door, your breath coming in ragged, panicked gasps. the saloon is a blur or faces and noise, the jaunty tune coming from the piano as fast paced as the galloping of your heart.

just as you reach the swinging doors, you glance outside through the dusty window panes and see someone right across the street in the patio of the drugstore.

the star on his chest gleaming even in the flickering light of the shop is distinctive. your heart sinks like a stone dropped into a well, the weight of the situation leaden over your puffed shoulders.

but you haven't made it this far while skirting around law and order without a sharp mind. your thoughts swirl in your mind as you run through options. a horse loosely tied to the hitching post out front, sleeping roll behind the saddle. you could take it but risk getting roped off by someone. slipping out the windows would draw too much attention. using the back door near the kitchen would have the owner on your arse.

shit. shit-

then you spot him. sitting alone at a table is a hulking, beast of a man. (his broad shoulders and burly frame makes him resemble more mountain than man tbh.) a small shot glass rests on the scratched surface before him, the only delicate item in his vicinity. the wide-brimmed hat he wears casts a shadow over his face but the glint in his eyes is unmistakable. maybe that's why even the other patrons have given him a wide berth. (the knotted scar that runs from the corner of his cheek pulling his lips into a permanent, twisted sneer makes the hair on the nape of your neck stand on end.)

desperation fuels your next move.

your hand trembles when you place it on the the exposed skin of his forearm that's covered in a fine layer of grime, as does your voice when you speak.

"hey-" you don't get to finish your sentence, feeling the words crumble into ash on your tongue when you realize you're out of time. the drunken idiot from upstairs is storming straight towards you, his nostrils flared, white etched on his knuckles. panic surges through you and so you move.

coming to stand behind the seated stranger, your arms cradle his large head, clammy palms flat on the sweat stained fabric of his union shirt. his body tenses under your touch, muscles cooling like a spring, but you muster all the bravado you can.

"if ya got a problem with me," your voice is steady despite the fear that's settled at the base of your spine, "take it up with my husband."

the drunk comes to an abrupt halt, his anger momentarily replaced by confusion, uncertainty, as he glances between you and the human(?) shield you're clinging to.

the room has fallen silent, all eyes on the unfolding drama. they watch with bated breaths, even the bartender had paused mid-polish, his hand frozen on the glass.

the man wavers, his resolve crumbling like freshly tilled dirt before you. but the final nail in the coffin is when your 'husband' grabs onto your arm and leads you to sit onto his lap, both your legs fitting on top of his one, feeling the tarnished buckle of his leather belt even through the couple of layers of your dress on your arsecheek, his arm cinching tightly around your waist.

his skin feels rough, scarred, yet warm, beneath your hand. (embarrassing that this surprises you.)

you can feel his voice vibrate from his chest and sink into your bones when he aids you in this mess you've created. "ya 'eard m'wife. piss off 'fore i make you."

his mouth twists into an ugly line but concedes defeat, telling your 'husband' to "keep his wh-wife on a tighter leash unless she's keen on ending up on a missing poster alongside the wanted ones."

when you turn in his lap to look outside the window, watching the drunk unsteadily get on his horse and leave, you give the man you're on a muted thanks and move to get up only-

the arm around your waist feels more like an iron band. you're can't get up. you can't leave. your feet don't even touch the wooden floorboards of the saloon. you turn your wide eyes toward him, lips parted in surprise.

he doesn't seem as surprised as you.

"wha'? thought you could jus' up and go 'bout your way?"

you open your mouth wider, to scream maybe, you aren't sure but he cuts you off with a sharp suck of his teeth.

"make trouble and there will be trouble. i'll drag your pretty arse to the sheriffs office by the hair."

the realization of what he is keeps you utterly frozen in place, any fight you'd had bleeding out of you.

a bloody bounty hunter. no wonder everyone had kept their distance.

"i'm gonna be finishin' this bottle and you'll be a good wife and draw me a bath in our hotel room."

(he plucks the dirty money from where you'd kept it and tosses it on the bar top, carrying you straight to where he'd hitched his horse and plops you in front, your back to his barrel of a chest. "youll bathe with me, gotta have you clean for our consummation.")

[spatialwave]

"𝓲𝓽'𝓼 𝓸𝓷𝓵𝔂 𝓯𝓪𝓲𝓻"

pairing: pre-war cooper howard x fem!reader word count: 3k summary: you hadn’t expected to see a celebrity at your nephews birthday party, let alone america’s most recognizable cowboy star. luck seemed to be on your side when cooper howard’s attention landed right on you. warnings: mdni! smut, age difference, cooper eats you out!

you and your older sister had a sour relationship, you hadn’t quite agreed with her husband’s fixation with capitalizing on a nuclear fallout. he worked at vault-tech, some entry-level position with a promise of greater things. after a few dinners of listening to him ramble about the vaults and trying to convince you to buy your place in one, you decided to distance yourself.

but your six-year old nephew had stolen your heart since he was a newborn. you would do anything for him, even if it meant sucking up your pride and going to visit your sister for his birthday.

knowing that he was a little aspiring cowboy, you showed up dressed to impress—meaning denim jeans, cowboy boots, a button down blouse and cowboy hat. you had expected enthusiasm from the other adults, but you were greeted with them all in their sunday’s best. 

this was going to be a long saturday afternoon.

you were sitting inside your sister’s house, having kept yourself away from the partygoers as you picked at the hot dog on your paper plate. a birthday delicacy.

just as you were about to call it a day and make haste for the door, you heard the sound of kids yelling excitedly outside where the party had migrated. you hadn’t been told that there was entertainment and curiosity bubbled inside you. a little peak would hurt.

just as you reached the backyard, standing up on the white-painted porch, your eyes landed on the man sitting atop a horse with a lasso spinning effortlessly around his body. of course your sister managed to hire an actual cowboy.

with a smirk on your lips, you watched with a tiny smile—eyes growing wide when you recognized the face hidden behind the hat. 

that was fucking cooper howard.

you felt your heart skip a beat as you stepped toward the staircase, looking over the sea of parents and children as the movie star put on a beautiful display of his talents. you had heard the news stories from women gossiping in your workplace, how cooper howard was going through a tough divorce with his wife… who worked for vault-tech.

it then made sense how your brother-in-law scored this gig.

speculating wasn’t going to do you any good, and you likely weren’t going to get any answers, so you pushed thoughts of cooper’s personal life out of your head and instead admired him. who cared why he was there? you were happy to be within the same vicinity as the handsome man. he was just as beautiful in-person as he was on the television screen, big pearly whites shining as he smiled.

then, his brown eyes met yours, even over the crowd of people that he could let his gaze linger on. you felt your body shiver as you both shared a long stare, feeling vulnerable under his eyes and missing it when he instead looked down at a young boy that was cheering for him.

with red cheeks and a giddy smile on your lips, you kept watching, unable to look away. even after he’d gotten off the horse and helped a few children sit atop and take them for a short little walk around the backyard.

cooper was good with the children, you found yourself unable to look away and making little mental notes of what kind of man he was. so far, he was kind, gentle and humble.

before you could indulge any further, your sister sprung up in your line of sight and left you huffy.

“would you be a darling and go into bruce’s car to get donny’s present?” she asked so sweetly, “he wanted to keep it as hidden as possible.”

“i was enjoying the show,” you grumbled, watching as cooper had started to wrap up after taking a few photos with your nephew and a handful of the other kids.

“oh, hush. here.” your sister shoved the vehicle keys into your hand, “just leave the present inside, we’ll be there in a few minutes once the entertainment is gone.”

you hadn’t even gotten the energy to call your sister out for labelling cooper as just ‘entertainment’. you just let out a sigh and followed her orders, grabbing the present out from the convertible and placing it neatly on the large stack of presents on the kitchen island.

your small gift bag was starting to look shameful compared to some of the large, wrapped boxes.

“christ,” you muttered to yourself as you let out a defeated breath.

you made way for the front door, digging in the pockets of your jeans and retrieving a cigarette as you stepped foot onto the front porch. just as you lit it and moved down the short stairs, you glanced ahead and were greeted by none other than cooper howard walking across the large driveway.

“miss,” he smiled at you out of courtesy, giving a nod of acknowledgement as he continued to lead his horse past you and toward the trailer hooked up behind his vehicle.

“hello,” you murmured, exhaling smoke from your lungs as you watched him with wide eyes—starstruck. after a few moments of watching him you mustered up the courage to follow behind him, though doing your best not to disturb the horse and get a prompt kick in the head, “mr. howard?”

the older man looked over his shoulder, hands busy guiding his horse as he stopped just outside the trailer. 

“hm?” he hummed, turning slowly to face you, that charismatic smile on his lips, “please, just call me cooper,” his voice drawled with a thick southern accent, “what can i do for a pretty cowgirl, such as yourself?”

you felt your cheeks warm up at his words, wondering if he was flirting or just being overly kind. you hadn’t met a ton of celebrities in your day, so you hadn’t the slightest clue.

“oh, i’m not a cowgirl,” you laughed softly, looking down at your outfit and then back up to cooper, “it’s my nephew’s birthday and i suppose i took the dress nice requirement the wrong way.” you managed to make cooper chuckle, a grin forming along his lips as he tied off his horse to the trailer and able to give you much of his attention. 

“well, if i got to choose, you’re definitely the best dressed today. you had me convinced that you’d be coming for my job,” he poked fun at you.

cooper howard had always been a faithful man, but barb’s betrayal was something he’d never be able to forgive. he was also a man with needs, so when a young woman approached him with a naive look in her eyes, he couldn’t help but pounce at the opportunity for some flirting. it helped with his ego, at least, having slowly deflated after needing to take on these entertainment gigs just to pay alimony to his ex-wife.

it wasn’t fair that she’d manage to take most of his assets, the money, the home—full custody of janey with very little visitation. it was brutal, but he was making it work. he’d be having the weekend with his daughter soon enough.

he could be content with you right now, in fact, he desperately needed the distraction.

“if it makes you feel better i can’t even ride a horse,” you said through a giggle, “i won’t be coming for your job anytime soon.”

a breathy laugh came from cooper as he settled a hand on his hip, “that’s reassuring,” he smiled with thinned lips, “you’d certainly take away attention from me.”

there it was again, was he flirting with you? was cooper howard actually flirting with you?

“i don’t know about that,” you spoke quietly, flicking off the build up of ash on the cigarette you hadn’t been smoking, “sorry, i’ll let you get all packed up. i’m sure you’re a busy man. i just wanted to let you know that i’m a big fan of your movies,” you tried so hard to keep a calm and cool composure, “you’re, uh… a great actor.”

“why, that’s very kind of you, miss,” cooper kept a smile on his lips as he looked over you, brushing his hands off on his brown corduroy pants and clearing his throat, “would you happen to have an extra cigarette i may be able to take off your hands? i seem to have left mine at home.”

you nodded, reaching for the pack in your pocket so you could pull one out and pass it to the older man, a smile breaking on your lips when his fingers brushed against yours.

“thank you,” he said smoothly, eyes flickering to follow your hands as you pulled out a lighter for him. he leaned forward with the cigarette between his lips, meeting your gaze as the flame lit it nicely and smoke bellowed from his lips, “you are a lifesaver, darlin’, i’m usually more prepared than this.”

“it’s no worries at all, my pleasure. really.” you took a step back from him, cheeks burning hot as you shoved the lighter back into your pocket and butted out the cigarette you had completely neglected.

“how about i treat you for a drink sometime,” he spoke, tilting his head curiously, “it’s only fair, don’t you think?”

cooper was more than satisfied to see the way you had looked so surprised, your eyes widening and lips curving into a small smile. somewhere deep inside, he knew this was wrong. you were a young thing, not much older than a university graduate, if that. cooper? well, he was at least twenty years your senior.

then, he remembered, it’s not like he had anyone but himself to please. his ex-wife had managed to get his reputation buried so deep that he couldn’t book anymore gigs, hell, not even a lousy commercial. his agent would be letting him go soon, too, he knew it.

there was nothing to lose here.

“a drink?” you questioned, “like a date?”

you were so damn endearing.

honestly, you were convinced that something had happened at your nephew’s birthday. maybe you had walked too close to the horse, and it did end up giving you a swift kick to the head. everything happening was just your wildest dreams as you lay in a hospital in the deepest of comas. it was easier to than believing you were actually sitting with cooper howard in a darkened bar, a place much too expensive for you, but you supposed these were the perks of being famous.

you sat in a velvet covered seat right at the long bar, one leg crossed over the other in an attempt to make yourself feel like you were fancy enough to belong here. you were just thankful that you had a friend who was a seamstress, able to turn a long, frumpy black dress into something that hugged your curves.

it wasn’t every day a movie star asked you out.

“what do you do for work?” cooper leaned his elbow against the bar top, a cigarette in his left hand and glass of whiskey in the other, “other than being a professional cowgirl, of course.” 

“i’m just finishing up the last bit of my schooling,” you replied, pulling the martini glass from your lips where a layer of red lipstick marked the glass—your second drink, “going to be a nurse.”

“now, that’s a very commendable line of work,” cooper straightened up, setting down his now empty glass full of half-melted ice, “i’m certain you’ll get a lot of joy out of savin’ peoples lives.”

“i hope so,” you smiled, quite proud of your career choices, “i mean, it’s no movie star, though.”

cooper let out a low laugh, dropping his gaze for a moment as he put out his cigarette in an ashtray, “let me just tell you that being a movie star isn’t all it’s made out to be,” he spoke through a breathy chuckle.

you furrowed your brows slightly, chewing on your bottom lips as you watched him. well, at least he was a modest man. “why aren’t you in movies anymore?” you bit the bullet with your question, “i haven’t seen you in anything new since you started doing the ads for vault-tech.”

a heavy breath escaped cooper’s nostrils as he met your eyes, his smile gone, “you see, that’s a can of worms we oughta’ keep shut, if you don’t mind.”

“i’m sorry,” you were filled with immense regret, seeing the discomfort on coopers face, “i’ve been told i’m too nosy for my own good.”

“no, don’t apologize, darlin’. how were you supposed to know without asking?” cooper reassured you, reaching forward to place his hand on your bare knee, peaking out from the provocative slit that went up the length of your dress, “maybe someday i’ll share.”

you felt your heart skip a beat when his calloused hand rested over the smooth skin of your leg, sending shivers up your spine and making you wonder just where this night would lead. a sheepish laugh escaped your lips as you toyed with the toothpick in your martini, punctured through an olive, “someday? i wasn’t expecting a second date.”

“you weren’t?” cooper grinned, god, you loved his smile, “i thought this was goin’ well.”

“maybe if i have a third drink in me i’ll be more inclined to go on that second date with you,” you teased, thankful for the courage the drinks were giving you.

“why don’t i make you that third at my place? i can mix you up a better martini than here,” he squeezed your knee, his thumb brushing along your skin and all you could do was nod.

the third drink never came, but that was okay. with your lips parted and hands in cooper’s hair, you could care less about a dirty martini when his face was buried between your thighs and your dress pushed up to your hips. you’d always been a lucky girl, but nothing would ever top this.

“oh,” you whimpered, fingers tightening in his hair as his tongue lapped against your folds, the tip flicking against your swollen, sensitive clit, “just like that,” you cooed, your head falling back against the cushion as you closed your eyes and focused on nothing except the pleasure flowing through you. 

cooper had long forgotten the worries that tried to rot his mind because for once in months he felt something, a warmth in his stomach—hope. even as war loomed overhead and life seemed dire, you had walked into his life. someone fun, a pretty girl who could keep his troubles away for a night.

his hands gripped at your outer thighs, fingers digging into your skin as he ate you out with the expertise he’d gained throughout the years. quickly learning what made you moan and squirm under his touch.

“fuck,” you cried out, whimpering as your thighs pressed against the sides of his head as you neared climax, “i’m going to cum.”

“no one’s stopping you, angel,” he breathed warmly against your cunt, one hand pulling from your thigh so he could press a digit inside you and coax out sweet sounds from your lips. he pulled back as a second finger joined in, his mouth and chin glistening from your juices, “show me those pretty eyes of yours.”

you were quick to listen, using your strength to lift your head up and look down at cooper. he looked glorious with tousled hair and pink cheeks, fingers fucking you with a practiced touch. 

you locked your eyes on him as you breathed heavily through pouted lips. “cooper,” you whined loudly when his thumb made quick circles over your clit and bringing you closer to the edge, fingers tugging on his hair as your back arched and the coil inside your stomach released.

your voice cracked as you said his name, a cry of pleasure coming deep from your throat as you came. you pulsed and contracted around his fingers, hips vibrating as he didn’t let up, not in the slightest. he wanted to see how your face twisted with pleasure when you became overstimulated, grinning as you grabbed at his hands in an attempt to slow his movements. 

he listened, his fingers coming to a stop and soon pulling out from you as his lips pressed chaste kisses to your inner thighs while you fell back into the sofa and let out a shaky sigh.

“i have to be dreaming,” you breathed out, hardly able to keep your eyes open as you felt cooper shift so he could sit up and crawl over your body.

“too good to be true?” cooper questioned with a teasing tone, holding himself above you as you pressed your hands to his cheeks.

“very much so,” you smiled, your breath evening out, “cooper, i think you should rest back and let me do some work now,” you hummed as you pressed a hand to his chest and began to push him until he was resting against the arm of the sofa.

cooper showed a toothy, lopsided grin as he watched with intrigue glimmering in his eyes, happily looking you up and down as you moved from your spot on the couch until you were kneeling on the carpeted floor in front of him, “you really don’t need to,” he said, though, he was only being polite. he wouldn’t say no to this.

“aw, come on, cooper,” you whispered, your hands on his clothed thighs, slowly moving up until they could tackle his belt buckle, “it’s only fair.”

“shit,” cooper hissed, eyes fluttering shut as he felt your hands free his erection from the confines of his suit pants.

he certainly hoped for a second date.

[traumatrios]

the name of the game

pairing… dodge mason x fem!reader

wc… 2.3k

summary… you don’t talk to strangers— but there’s something different about dodge. was it his charm? his looks? or the way you couldn’t get him off of your mind?

warnings… ends in smut, face riding, drinking (not drunk sex), iconic red cowboy boots, brief pain pleasure, dodge is soooo delusional

josie’s notes! um i kinda don’t remember how panic ended for dodge (i finished it a week ago) so take the beginning plot with a grain of salt

otherwise enjoy my lovelies ❤️

Dodge didn’t have many friends to begin with, but with most of the kids his age out of Cape and attending college, he did feel quite lonely. 

He’s not a stranger to the fact that college wasn’t in the cards for him– he had too many responsibilities. He knew his sister could very much take care of herself, but lazy Sunday’s on the couch next to her was where his heart truly belonged. 

His mother needed help managing the restaurant, because as much as she prided herself for her hardworking motherhood and independence, he saw the breath of relief she had whenever he was there.

He was perfectly fine as a blue collar working adult. What did he need college for anyway? It was too expensive, especially after the necessary but monetarily disappointing ending to Panic. He was too old to apply now.

Dodge took his time off of working at his bar to nurse the foam of a beer from another in a neighboring town. 

Was this really what his future was? He was dangerously nearing a seat in the same boat as the men surrounding him in the ambience of the dive bar: old (21) with a family at home (he was unattached with a sister and a single mother 5 minutes away from his apartment). 

Dodge might as well accept it; this was his destiny.

But the glimmer of fate came to him through a vision he wasn’t sure whether he was imagining from the wild dreams in his head or the material of a Playboy magazine. 

The mechanical bull sitting in the middle of the recreational space of the bar with a pretty girl attached to its saddle.

Dodge couldn’t tell if you were a saddle bronc rider (like himself) or just intensely familiar with your hips. You rode the mechanical bull like it was a kids bicycle with training wheels.

But with how you grinded against the fur of the mechanical bull with the rhythm it was bucking, he landed on the latter.

It was entrancing to look at, he admitted. The winks you sent into the collecting audience only strengthened his hopes of getting one shot at him. 

The mechanics continued to whir and spin you around, pathetic attempts to throw you off of the attraction you were obviously very skilled at riding. Have you been here before? Has he just never noticed you?

How could he never notice you.

Before he knew it, Dodge was leaning against the inflatable rim of the attraction, eyes wide in awe of your performance. One hand gripped the braided rope attached to the nape of the bull’s neck whilst the other waved in the air freely to your girlfriends, who had been screaming your name in the same way Dodge heard it yelled by paparazzi during award shows his sister watched on the weekends through the television.

The moderator of the attraction seemed just as impressed as anyone else watching you, even holding the twinge of suspicion some kept in the quirk of their brow. A crowd eventually formed around your performance, whistling and cheering you on as the meat of your calves squeezed the sides of the bull’s stomach.

Dodge thinks he heard a “yee haw!” come from the intoxicated group of guys (no younger than 30) stuffed in a booth attached to the wall facing your ass.

Bright digits flashed on the screen beside the control booth, announcing the new high score of Big Star Bar. 2 minutes and 36 seconds.

As you unmounted the artificial bull, Dodge didn’t pull his eyes away from you like the rest of the crowd did. You weren’t a one hit wonder, he had to know your secrets. What was a girl with hips like yours doing in a random dive bar in Texas?

Dodge wasn’t sure how to approach you, especially after losing you in the crowd of girls in identical cowboy hats and guys in flannel. He was lucky enough to skin his eyes over the bar and spot your sparkling red boots tapping and gliding against the dingy dance floor.

The boy filed through the crowd until the heat in the air turned from heavy to sweaty dance floor heavy. 

Dodge scanned the horseshoe— painted? —on the back of your jean jacket and how it paired with your cowboy boots. It felt like something out of a movie, seeing your outfit.

“This your first rodeo?” he greeted, though from his stance behind your back, he wasn’t surprised by the small jump in your shoulders. But when you turned around, you were just as beautiful up close than you were on that damn bull. Dodge noticed the thick pieces of glitter scattered across your collarbone and how it seemed to match with the other girls in your party.

“Sorry. I don’t talk to strangers,” you shrugged, offering Dodge a friendly smile in apology.

Your gaze didn’t even falter or scan him, just unwaveringly looking him in the eye before you turned around again to chat with your friends. 

“Aren’t those the most fun to talk to though?” Dodge tried, and god did it form a pit in his stomach to feel like one of those guys that pushed for a girl's attention— a bad guy.

This got you to turn back around again.

Truthfully, his looks were hard to deny; especially with that ivory colored cowboy hat on his head. Otherwise, he wore a navy tee with a pair of dark jeans and black boots; the simplest thing ever. 

One hand was stuffed in the pocket of his jeans, the other tapping its digits against the sweaty glass of a bottle of beer. 

“Do you really wanna talk? Grandma taught me that boys like you never want to just talk.” 

Dodge couldn’t fight against that, not confidently at least. He knew he didn’t want to just talk, but he also didn’t know what else he’d want to do. Is this what being in limbo felt like?

You gave Dodge the grace of a second before pointing an eyebrow at him and turning again, only this time walking off with your friends to a different corner of the bar.

Dodge was too stubborn to talk growing up, and in this moment— and only this moment —did he curse himself for doing so.

In Cape, everyone was a regular. 

It didn’t matter where you went or with whom, you were known better than the alphabet.

When Dodge came into town, he became a regular. In most places, at least.

He knew you weren’t from Cape because you weren’t a regular here. Which is why he was surprised to see the same red heels he’s been dreaming about since the weekend stroll into the establishment he worked in.

You knew what you were doing, of course. You knew about Dodge Mason because Gina knew about Dodge Mason, and she knew about Dodge Mason from her boyfriend Daniel.

That’s how you got here, wasn’t it? But, Dodge didn’t need to know that.

He didn't need to know how your girlfriends teased you for playing hard to get or how you began sweating just from looking into his piercing eyes.

And when those piercing eyes caught the sight of the painted horseshoe on your back, he thought it must be my lucky day.

As you sat at the bar, Dodge couldn’t think of any other way to praise whatever god trailed you in here rather than repeating the same ‘thank you’s in his head.

“Evening, lucky,” he coined the nickname from the symbol. You fought a smile at his wit, instead rolling your tongue along the flesh of your lip. 

“I’m sorry, do I know you sir?”

Dodge chortled at your act, but your face stood unwavering. Your tits looked perfect while pressed against the bar, but Dodge managed to pull his eyes a little higher to see the small tick in your neck signaling your so-called ‘confusion’.

You must’ve not liked his silence, because you picked up the silence with a small sigh and your order.

“May I have a shirley temple with just a dash of lime juice, please?” you batted your eyelashes at the unconvinced boy, being met with the playful roll of his eyes. 

Despite himself, Dodge began to concoct your beverage. You were strange, he thought. Where did you come from? Were you visiting? Would he see you again if nothing came from this conversation? How would he be sure?

He had to make sure this one counted, not like that pathetic excuse of conversation at the bar. The clicking of your nails rippling against the waxed bar behind his back mimicked the ticking clock– he might as well shoot a shot. Perhaps it was an easy target, especially with his luck sprawled against your back. 

“Did your grandma also teach you these manners?” Dodge planted the highball in front of your impatient hands. You took a look at the glass, then him, then to the glass again, where your eyes stayed as you tasted the drink. The sugar spreads across your tongue, satisfying its parched state.

“I still don’t talk to strangers,” you said, but the smirk that played on your face told Dodge something different. Your game wouldn’t fool him, not when you drop it just as limp as that. Did you want him like he wanted you?

You two weren’t strangers, no, he knew you were meant for something more. 

“So you admit to it,” he turned his head from the focus on your drink, only to catch your face hot with guilt. He chuckled to himself at your game.

“We ain’t strangers. This is our second meeting, perhaps fate is sending a message?” God, when did Dodge Mason become so sappy? He was grasping at the ends of a rope he wasn’t sure you were on the other end of.

But then you smiled. You smiled and twirled the skinny black straw around the ice of your drink. “And what message would that be?” you challenged.

Dodge leaned his elbows on the dark oak of the bar. He wet his lips with the tip of his tongue before his proposal, or rather, ‘the message’. “You should come home with me tonight.” He kept it at that; simple and charming. 

You giggled like a schoolgirl at his confidence. By the looks of it, he had been a lustful young adult, admittedly like you, with maybe a studio apartment. Your mind could only think of one thing he planned to do if you accepted the invitation, and you knew it wasn’t puzzles and lemonade. 

Were you opposed? Not entirely. 

“And what would this night entail? What do I get from entering your home? You gon’ drive me home after?” You matched his stance, leaning forward on the folded elbows you stuck to the waxy countertop. Dodge felt a stream of intimidation flow through his veins at the way you pointed your eyebrow at him.

“Might have to come to find out,” he replied, swiping his tongue over the toothpick that hung from his mouth. You couldn’t restrain your eyes from flickering down to the pair of lips. 

You were sure the sharp metal of his handle left a burning mark when he pushed you against it in the barren hallway of his apartment building. But with the incessant kissing of his lips distracting your mouth– and eventually everything else –it didn’t matter much to you anymore.

Your frame had been stripped of all fabric, laying in addition to his in the ratty hamper dejected in the corner of his room. Soon enough, he was insisting on a third round to cure the burdens of his barren tongue.

“Wanna see how you ride up close, baby,” he reasoned through a hushed tone, kissing the clammy skin of your temple.

How could you refuse? Especially when his hands began to rub those soothing circles into your hips and the tip of his tongue licked the shell of your ear during the whisper.

When he was prodding his tongue into your entrance a few minutes later, you knew it was the right decision to follow him out of the door. With your tits bouncing underneath the warm light thrusting through the ceiling of the sauna he called his room, Dodge took it upon himself to bruise your skin of this (rather heated) interaction through two large grips of his hands on your ass whilst you fucked his face. 

Dodge’s curious tongue soon turned into a hungry one, accompanied by the brief scraping of his teeth against the puffy lips of your pussy. The small bumping of his skull against the wooden headboard spurred him on rather than slowed him down, and you hoped the string of moans and mewls coming from your mouth were enough gratitude to satisfy his desires.

Due to popular demand– a loose request that fell in pieces from Dodge’s dumbstruck position underneath you –you wore his cowboy hat, glaze sticking from your hairline onto the weaved material. Dodge didn’t mind, in fact, he reveled in the thought of that same sweat mixing with his own during a rodeo. Dripping down his face just like how the sudden flood of your sweet juices were coating the stubble on his chin and the point of his nose. 

Dodge lived up to his word the morning after, tapping the ends of his fingers against the leather of the steering wheel to the tune of Bruce Springsteen’s voice singing “Glory Days” from the beaten up radio of Dodge’s Cadillac. Summers' heat wavered through the air of Cape even when Dodge drove past the speed limit on a lonely road. 

When you arrived at the doorstep of your grandmother's house, Dodge didn’t worry about the possibility of seeing you again, only admiring the way you swayed your hips and clicked your heels against the pavement during your strut. The corners of his lips pulled up into something that was not quite a smirk. 

He liked how your game was turning out.

traumatrios, 2024

divider by @saradika-graphics !

[teapartyprincess4two]

‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧ MASTERLIST ‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧

☆click each individual name to access series☆

🧸fluff 🦢angst 💋smut 💌headcannons

🎀platonic fluff ✨AU 💃🏻Latina reader 💐sad

‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧ Sturniolo Triplets ‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧

⭒ Big Sister- Sturniolo Triplets 🎀

summary: Reader is a couple of years older than the triplets, having lived a completely different life to theirs by the age of 25 and is invited onto the Cut The Camera Podcast as a special guest. Reader and triplets retell stories of their childhood and learn more about the readers past.

⭒ Big Sister Pt. 2- Sturniolo Triplets 🎀,🦢

summary: After visiting the triplets in L.A, the reader returns back home and works with her brothers to plan another get together. This time the triplets visit her, taking a trip down to the Lone Star State.

⭒ Big Sister Pt. 3- Sturniolo Triplets 🎀

summary: Your brothers have always been overprotective of you, and they do a good job of showing it while filming with Sam and Colby.

☆N. Sturniolo☆ (click for series)

⭒ Truth or Dare- N. Sturniolo 🎀

summary: Nick and his best friend always find themselves playing truth or dare.

⭒ 4 In The Morning- N. Sturniolo 🦢,🎀

summary: Your best friend Nick comforts you after receiving some unexpected news.

⭒ Talkative- N. Sturniolo 💌,🎀

summary: head cannons of Nick with a yapper bff!

☆M. Sturniolo☆ (click for series)

⭒ Full Set- M. Sturniolo 🧸

summary: Reader is a well renowned nail tech in L.A and due to her growing popularity has become everyone’s go-to nail tech. This leads her to become a workaholic, stunting many of the areas of her life. Three regular customers work towards changing that.

⭒ In Denial- M. Sturniolo 🦢,🧸

summary: It’s hard to admit when you’re in love, especially when the person you love is so different from you. But, as they say, opposites attract.

⭒ Small Town Dreaming- M. Sturniolo 🧸

summary: There’s not much to do in this small town but fall in love.

⭒ Heartbreak Girl- M. Sturniolo 🦢

summary: Matt’s in love with you, but you’re too in love with someone else to realize it.

⭒ Heartbreak Girl PT.2- M. Sturniolo 🦢,🧸

summary: Matt tries moving on, but you reel him back in every time.

⭒ Manage- M. Sturniolo 💋

summary: You’re Matt’s secretary, in charge of overseeing everything related to his schedule. Everyday when you come into the office he suppresses the urge to take you then and there. When on a work business trip, he can’t hold back anymore.

⭒ I’ll Play Your Game- M. Sturniolo 🦢,🧸

summary: You’re the Pastor’s daughter, all eyes are always on you. So, why not put on a show?

⭒ Intrusive Thoughts- M. Sturniolo 💋

summary: You’re forced to sit on Matt’s lap during a long roadtrip and once you arrive at your destination he lets his intrusive thoughts win.

⭒ Intrusive Thoughts PT.2- M. Sturniolo 💋

summary: The morning after yours and Matt’s night together, you go for round two.

⭒ Carnal Desires- M. Sturniolo 💋

summary: You join Matt and his family on a vacation, and get lost together while on a hike. Instead of freaking out, you two take advantage of the sudden alone time.

⭒ Talkative- M. Sturniolo 💌, 🧸,💋

summary: head cannons of Matt with a talkative, yapper girlfriend!

⭒ A Cold Sunday- M. Sturniolo 🧸

summary: You and Matt spend a cold Sunday morning together, snuggling up and keeping warm.

⭒ Urban Cowboy- M. Sturniolo 🧸

summary: Matt, a city boy, tries one upping you, the best bull rider in town, only to be met with a painful outcome.

⭒ Why Do You Care?- M. Sturniolo 🦢,🧸

summary: You’re naive and let yourself be led on by someone you believe has good intentions, but one day Matt puts him in his place and ends up confessing his feelings to you in the process.

⭒ Parenthood- M. Sturniolo 💌,🧸,💋

summary: head cannons of dad!Matt.

⭒ Lipstick- M. Sturniolo 💃🏻,🧸,💋

summary: Matt’s nervous to meet your family, but after making a good impression you treat him to a night full of kisses and lipstick stains.

⭒ Happy Birthday- M. Sturniolo 💐,🧸

summary: Over the course of working together for years, Matt picks up on everything and despite not understanding it completely, he comforts you through the hurt.

⭒ Tough- M. Sturniolo 💌,🧸,💋

summary: head cannons of Matt with a tough girlfriend!

⭒ Weakness- M. Sturniolo 💋

summary: You fight your inner desires, but ultimately let your weakness consume you.

⭒ Actress- M. Sturniolo 💌,🧸,💋

summary: head cannons of Matt with an actress girlfriend!

⭒ Affectionate- M. Sturniolo 💌,🧸,💋

summary: head cannons of Matt being affection with his touch starved girlfriend!

⭒ End of the World- M. Sturniolo ✨,💋,🧸

summary: No one deserves to die a virgin, not even at the end of the world.

⭒ On Stream- M. Sturniolo 🧸

summary: Matt mentions you on stream, causing the chat to go crazy.

☆C. Sturniolo☆ (click for series)

⭒ Corner Store- C. Sturniolo 🧸

summary: Chris is your annoying coworker who always manages to make your shifts a little more miserable than necessary, but it turns out he has a misunderstood crush on you.

⭒ Way Over Love- C. Sturniolo 💋

summary: Chris struggles to accept that he likes you as more than a friends.

⭒ Shopaholic- C. Sturniolo 🧸

summary: No matter how hard you try, you just can’t stop swiping your card.

⭒ Unplanned- C. Sturniolo 🧸

summary: Becoming a teen mom was never in your plans, but you and Chris had to learn to make the best of it.

⭒ Candy- C. Sturniolo💃🏻,🧸

summary: You were sweet as candy and Chris couldn’t stop himself from taking a bite, leading to an internet scandal neither of you anticipated.

⭒ Talkative- C. Sturniolo 💌, 🧸,💋

summary: head cannons of Chris with a talkative, yapper girlfriend!

⭒ Parenthood- C. Sturniolo 💌, 🧸,💋

summary: head cannons of Dad!Chris.

‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧ Johnnie Guilbert ‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧

(click for series)

⭒ Collab- J. Guilbert 🧸

summary: You and Johnnie pretend to date, faking it for so long that it became real.

⭒ Vampire- J. Guilbert (prologue) ✨.💋,🧸,🦢

summary: You take your relationship with Johnnie, your vampire lover, one step further.

⭒ Vampire- J. Guilbert ✨, 🦢, 🧸

summary: You’re just a princess who fell in love. The only problem is that he’s a vampire and your father has promised your hand in marriage to someone else.

⭒ Bad Day- J. Guilbert 🦢,🧸

summary: Johnnie is the moon and you’re the sun, always bright, bubbly and energetic. Nobody believes that someone as positive as you can ever have a bad day, but when you do Johnnie is ready to comfort you through it.

⭒ Babygirl- J. Guilbert 🧸

summary: You didn’t choose a life in the limelight, you were just famous by association, and now you’ve earned yourself the nickname “babygirl” by the entire internet.

⭒ Monster- J. Guilbert 💋

summary: Tara plays matchmaker, earning Johnnie the night of his life with you in a bar restroom.

‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧Jake Webber ‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧

(click for series)

⭒ Messy- J. Webber 💋

summary: Jake is a regular customer at the diner you work at, eating the same meal everyday before returning back to work. One day, when you’re taking his order, you can tell he has much more sinful intentions than a quick meal.

⭒ Call Out My Name- J. Webber 💋

summary: When you film a video with somebody else, Jake’s jealousy takes over.

‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧Carrington‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧

⭒ coming soon…

‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧Norman Reedus‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧

☆ Daryl Dixon, The Walking Dead

☆ Murphy Macmanus, The Boondock Saints

☆ Diego, Sky

☆ Van, Floating

⭒ coming soon…

‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧Pedro Pascal‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧

☆ Javier Peña, Narcos

☆ Joel Miller, The Last of Us

☆ Oberyn, Game of Thrones

⭒ coming soon…

‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧5SOS‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧

☆ C. Hood

☆ A. Irwin

☆ L. Hemmings

☆ M. Clifford

⭒ coming soon…

‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧Lip Gallagher‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧

⭒ coming soon…

[theonottsbxtch]

WHATS LEFT BEHIND PT.2 | MV1

an: guys my time off is coming to an end, i move to france next week and start my job the week after rip me but in the mean time enjoy this badboy i've been sitting on

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: 6k

part one

Max pushed open the door to The Rusty Wheel, the familiar creak of its hinges greeting him like an old memory. The low hum of country music drifted from the jukebox in the corner, and the faint smell of spilled beer and worn leather hung in the air. Not much had changed since the last time he’d stepped foot in here, years ago—except, maybe, for the fact that now every pair of eyes in the place was on him.

He ran a hand through his hair and walked over to the bar, pausing only long enough to hang his cowboy hat on one of the hooks by the door. He used to come here every weekend, same as the rest of them. He hadn’t expected the town to change much—but somehow, it felt smaller now. Tighter. Like it didn’t quite fit him anymore.

Before he could take a seat, the owner, Earl, stepped out from behind the bar. Earl was a grizzled old cowboy, his flannel shirt rolled up at the sleeves, a white beard flecked with grey. He stopped in his tracks, wiping his hands on a rag, and gave Max a once-over, his face creasing with disbelief.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Earl muttered, his eyes narrowing. “I didn’t believe it when they told me.”

Max chuckled softly, not missing the edge in Earl’s voice. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“You actually back for good?” Earl asked, still eyeing him like he was trying to decide if he was a mirage.

Max shrugged. “Looks that way.”

Earl grunted, leaning his hands on the bar. “Guess we’ll see how that works out.”

Before Max could reply, a figure appeared beside him, sliding a bottle of beer across the counter. Max glanced up and saw Daniel—his best friend from back in the day—giving him a smirk as he set the beer down. Daniel was leaner now, with a few more lines around his eyes, but he still had the same mischievous glint that had gotten them into trouble as kids.

Daniel raised an eyebrow as he wiped down the bar. “Bold move, man,” he said, shaking his head. “I mean, really bold.”

Max took the beer, the cold glass sweating in his grip. “Figured it was time.”

Daniel leaned against the bar, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah, well, half the people in this town think you’ve got some nerve coming back after what you did to her.”

Max’s stomach clenched, but he kept his face neutral. He knew it wouldn’t take long for that topic to come up. “And the other half?” he asked, taking a swig from the bottle.

Daniel snorted. “They’re just in awe of what you’ve done with your career. Hell, I’ll admit it—I followed your rides. Man, some of those bulls you took on… I thought you were insane, but you sure made a name for yourself.”

Max nodded, setting the bottle back down on the bar. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

Daniel tilted his head, studying him. “That right? Because last time I checked, you were in all the magazines, got sponsors throwing money at you, and about a million followers watching your every move. That doesn’t sound like a bad deal.”

Max sighed, leaning his elbows on the bar. “It was great for a while. But the thing is, they don’t see the rest of it. The part where you wake up and don’t know where you are half the time. Or when you’re trying to remember which interviews you’ve already done or whose hand you shook at some event you didn’t even want to go to.” He shook his head, a bitter edge creeping into his voice. “Everyone thinks they want that life until they get it.”

Daniel didn’t say anything for a moment, just watched him, the silence between them hanging heavy. Then, after a beat, he nodded. “So why’d you come back? You finally get sick of signing autographs?”

Max’s eyes drifted to the shelves of dusty bottles behind the bar, memories of a simpler life flooding back. The long nights in places like this, where the biggest problem he had was getting enough cash together to fill his tank. Where people knew him as Max, not Max Verstapppen, the famous bull rider plastered on posters across the country.

“Something like that,” he said quietly. “I was never cut out for that big city stuff. The lights, the cameras… all of it.” He paused, running a hand along the neck of the beer bottle, feeling the condensation slick against his skin. “I missed home. The quiet. The way things made sense out here.”

Daniel chuckled, shaking his head. “Home, huh?” He let out a slow breath. “Don’t get me wrong—I’m glad to see you. Always hoped you’d come back. But you know it’s not going to be easy. People here… they don’t forget.”

Max’s jaw tightened, his grip on the bottle a little firmer. “Yeah, I know.”

Daniel stared at him for a long moment, and then his expression softened, some of the teasing edge fading from his voice. “She’s still hurt, you know. Even if she doesn’t show it. You coming back… it’s gonna stir up a lot of things.”

“I figured that,” Max replied, his voice low, almost resigned. “But I had to come back anyway.”

Daniel nodded, his eyes softening. “Well, I hope you know what you’re doing. You’ve got a lot of work to do, man.”

Max took another swig of beer, the cool liquid doing nothing to settle the unease that had been bubbling in his gut since the moment he’d driven into town. “Trust me,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else, “I know.”

The sound of the front door creaking open interrupted the conversation, and Max glanced over his shoulder to see a group of locals walking in, laughing and chatting as they made their way to a corner booth. He recognised some of them, faces he hadn’t seen in years, but he wasn’t ready for more conversations, more questions.

Turning back to Daniel, he nodded toward the bar. “Mind if I hang here for a while?”

Daniel smiled, a knowing glint in his eye. “Stay as long as you need. Just don’t expect the town to make it easy on you.”

Max nodded in appreciation, as he sipped his beer, letting the familiar hum of the bar settle around him. The chatter, the music, the faint clink of bottles—it all felt like a song from a time he thought he’d forgotten. But he hadn’t. Not really.

He’d been running from home for so long, he’d forgotten what it felt like to just stand still. And now that he was back, he wasn’t sure what hurt more—the memories of what he’d lost, or the fear of facing the woman he’d left behind.

______________________________________________________________

The next morning, Max stepped out of his truck, the early sun casting long shadows across the gravel driveway of High Ride Stables, Austin. The familiar scent of hay, leather, and horses filled the air, stirring memories he hadn’t thought of in years. It was a place he knew well—he’d worked here as a kid, mucking out stalls and helping with the horses. But today, the barn felt different, like the weight of his past was waiting for him inside.

He pushed open the large wooden door, the creak announcing his arrival. Inside, horses shuffled in their stalls, and the rhythmic thud of hooves echoed from deeper within. He glanced around, spotting the counter near the back where Leslie, the barn’s owner, was talking to one of the stable hands.

Leslie had been running this barn for as long as he could remember. She was tough as nails, with streaks of grey in her otherwise jet-black hair and a sharp gaze that could cut through any excuse. The stable hands called her “Les” when she wasn’t listening—if she caught them at it, they'd regret it.

When she saw him, her conversation trailed off, and her expression hardened. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the counter, eyeing him like he’d just tracked mud through her pristine barn.

“Well, look who the cat dragged in,” Leslie drawled, raising an eyebrow. “If it ain’t the hometown hero.”

Max tried to smile, but it fell flat. He took off his hat and held it in front of him. “Morning, Les.”

“Morning,” she replied, her tone flat. “What brings you here?”

“I’m lookin’ for work,” he said, stepping closer, but staying on the other side of the counter like it was a barrier between them. Which, in a way, it was.

Leslie’s eyes narrowed. “Work?” She scoffed, shaking her head. “After all that bull riding fame and fortune, you’re back here beggin’ for a job?”

“Not beggin’,” he muttered, his voice low. “Just askin’.”

She pushed herself off the counter, walking around it and standing toe-to-toe with him, hands on her hips. “Same difference.”

“Come on, Les,” he said, frustration creeping into his voice. “You know how it goes. The fame doesn’t last forever. Sponsors move on, injuries pile up… and the money—well, it dwindles. I can’t live off my bull riding winnings for the rest of my life.”

She crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed. “Sounds like a ‘you’ problem, not a ‘me’ problem.”

Max sighed, glancing around the barn, trying to find the right words. “I grew up here, working in this barn. I know horses, I know the work. You know I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty.”

Leslie tilted her head, considering him for a moment. “You really expect me to just hand you a job, after everything?”

He frowned, confused. “After everything?”

She shot him a knowing look. “Don’t play dumb with me, Max. You know who works here.”

His stomach sank, realising where this conversation was heading. Of course, she worked here—why wouldn’t she? It was her world. She’d never left it, never had a reason to. But that didn’t make this any easier.

“I’m not lookin’ to cause any trouble, Les. I just need work,” he said, his voice softening. “I’ll stay out of her way.”

Leslie raised an eyebrow. “Stay out of her way? You can’t just waltz back into this town, askin’ for a job, and think you can just avoid her. This is a small town, boy, not some city where you can hide from the people you’ve wronged.”

Max winced at the word “wronged.” It was blunt, but he couldn’t argue with it. He had wronged her. Maybe more than he even realised.

He took a deep breath, meeting Leslie’s gaze. “I know I messed up. I know I hurt her. But… I need this job, Les. Please.”

Leslie studied him for a long moment, her face unreadable. Then, she turned and walked back to the counter, rummaging through a drawer before pulling out a small notepad. She scribbled something down on it, then tore off the piece of paper and held it out to him.

“Here’s the deal,” she said, her voice cool and matter-of-fact. “I’ll give you a job if you go apologise to her. And not just any apology—she has to forgive you.”

Max stared at her, not taking the paper. His heart raced, a mixture of panic and disbelief. “Les, that’s impossible.”

Leslie crossed her arms again, looking at him with the same steel-eyed determination she always had. “Well, if you think it’s impossible, you don’t want this job bad enough.”

His eyes flicked to the paper in her hand, knowing exactly what was written on it. He didn’t need to look to know it was her address.

“You know she’s not gonna forgive me,” he said quietly, feeling the weight of the past like a stone in his gut.

Leslie gave him a half-smile, but there was no softness in it. “Well, you better get working, boy.”

Max finally took the paper from her hand, the weight of it feeling heavier than it should. He looked down at the address, familiar yet distant, as if it belonged to another lifetime.

“I’m serious,” Leslie said, her voice softening just a bit. “You want a job here? You’ve gotta make things right with her. I won’t have you causing more mess in this barn—or in this town. Either she forgives you, or you pack your bags and keep drivin’.”

Max swallowed hard, tucking the paper into his back pocket. He wanted to argue, to tell her that there was no way in hell she’d ever forgive him. But he knew Leslie well enough to know that there was no arguing with her.

He nodded once, stiffly. “Alright. I’ll… I’ll try.”

Leslie smirked, her eyes gleaming with something he couldn’t quite place. “Good luck. You’ll need it.”

As he turned to leave, the barn door creaked open behind him, and for a split second, his heart froze. He half-expected to see her there, standing in the doorway, glaring at him like she had on that road. But it was just another worker, coming in to start the day.

Max let out a breath, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. It had been one thing to face her the first time, in the heat of the moment. But now… now he had to go, hat in hand, and ask her to forgive him. To admit he was wrong. To dig up all the things he’d been trying to bury for years.

He shoved his hat back on his head and walked out of the barn, the piece of paper burning a hole in his pocket. The road ahead of him felt longer than it had ever been.

The next day, Max stood at the front steps of the small house, nerves twisting in his stomach like a coiled rope. He stared at the chipped paint on the door, feeling the weight of years pressing down on him. This was the house he’d been avoiding ever since he set foot back in town. And now, here he was—about to knock.

He took a deep breath, raising his fist and rapping his knuckles on the door. The sound echoed in the still morning air, louder than it had any right to be. For a moment, he thought maybe she wouldn’t answer, maybe he could just turn around and—

The door swung open.

She stood in the doorway, her eyes narrowing the second she saw him. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and she wore an old flannel shirt that he recognised—one she stole off of him when they were kids. She didn’t look surprised to see him. If anything, she looked like she’d been expecting him.

“Nope,” she said flatly, her hand already on the door, ready to slam it shut. “Not happening.”

“Wait,” Max said, holding up his hands. “Just… just hear me out for a minute.”

“I don’t think I need to,” she shot back, her voice cold. “I’ve already heard enough.”

“Darling, please—”

“Do not call me ‘darling,’” she snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut. Her eyes flashed with anger, and Max felt the sting of it, like a whip cracking against his skin. “You don’t get to call me that anymore.”

Max took a step back, raising his hands defensively. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“You didn’t mean?” she interrupted, her voice rising, filled with a raw, seething rage that had been simmering for eight long years. “What, Max? You didn’t mean to leave me in a hospital bed without a word? You didn’t mean to disappear without so much as a goddamn goodbye?”

He swallowed hard, the guilt gnawing at him like it always did when he thought about that day. “I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to face you.”

She let out a bitter laugh, crossing her arms over her chest as if to protect herself from him. “So, you just ran? That’s your excuse?”

“I wasn’t running,” Max muttered, but the words felt hollow even to him. He’d been running for years—he knew it, and so did she.

“Bullshit,” she spat, her eyes blazing. “You’ve been running your whole damn life. When things get hard, you don’t face them—you just pack your bags and leave. That’s what you did to me, and that’s what you’ve been doing ever since.”

He opened his mouth to argue, to tell her that wasn’t true, but the words died in his throat. She wasn’t wrong. He had run. He’d run the second things got complicated, the second he felt like he was losing control.

“I thought I was doing what was best,” he said finally, his voice quieter, less sure. “I thought you’d hate me if I stayed.”

Her jaw clenched, and she took a step forward, her fists balled at her sides. “You really think I could’ve hated you?” she said, her voice trembling with the weight of years of hurt. “You think I wanted you to just leave me behind like I didn’t matter?”

“I didn’t think I was enough for you!” Max burst out, the frustration and regret spilling out of him. “You were laid up in a hospital bed because of that fall, and I was getting calls about sponsors and competitions. I was torn in two, and I didn’t know what to do! I thought if I stayed, you’d see me as some reminder of what you’d lost, of the future we’d been planning and couldn’t have anymore.”

Her eyes widened, and for a second, the anger flickered, replaced by something else—something rawer, more vulnerable. “So, what? You thought I’d hate you? That I wouldn’t want you anymore? Out of pity?” She shook her head, stepping back from him as if the very thought disgusted her. “Is that what you really think of me?”

Max dragged a hand through his hair, hating how badly this conversation was going. “It wasn’t like that,” he said, his voice pleading now. “I didn’t want to be a burden. You’d just lost everything, and I didn’t want to remind you of the future you couldn’t have anymore. You deserved better than a guy who was barely hanging on.”

“Barely hanging on?” She seethed, her fists trembling. “You didn’t give me the chance to decide that! You didn’t even try to talk to me, to ask me what I wanted. You made that choice for me.”

“I thought I was doing the right thing!” Max shouted back, his frustration boiling over. “I thought if I walked away, you’d move on. You’d be better off without me, and I could… I could disappear before you realised I wasn’t enough.”

She stared at him, her chest heaving, her eyes burning with a mixture of rage and heartbreak. “You think leaving was easier for me? You think watching you drive off without a word made me better off?”

“I wasn’t strong enough to stay,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I thought I’d hurt you more by sticking around. I thought you’d hate me, that you’d look at me and see someone who was staying out of pity.”

“God, Max,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “You don’t even get it, do you?”

He swallowed hard, the weight of her words crushing him. “Then tell me,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Tell me what I didn’t see.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, her breath shaky as she tried to compose herself. When she opened them again, there was no anger left—just hurt. “You were everything to me. Everything. And you took that away because you were scared. You left me in that hospital bed, and you didn’t even let me fight for us. You made that choice, and I had to live with it.”

Max felt his chest tighten, the guilt and regret almost suffocating. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so damn sorry.”

Her lip trembled, and for a moment, she looked like she might break. But then, just as quickly, she straightened up, hardening herself again. “Sorry doesn’t fix eight years, Max. Sorry doesn’t undo the fact that you abandoned me when I needed you most.”

He took a step closer, desperate to bridge the distance between them. “I’m here now. I want to make it right.”

She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “It’s not that easy. You don’t get to just walk back into my life and pretend like nothing happened.”

“I’m not asking you to forget,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I know I can’t fix what I did. But I want to try. Please, just give me a chance.”

She stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, without another word, she stepped back inside and slammed the door in his face.

Max stood there, staring at the closed door, the sound of it still ringing in his ears. The weight of her words, the pain he’d caused, hung heavy in the air around him.

He slipped his hat back on, the brim casting a shadow over his eyes. As he turned and walked back to his truck, the gravel crunching beneath his boots, he realised something: he’d always been running. But for the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure if he could ever stop.

That night, Max couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned, the weight of her words pressing on his chest like a stone. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face—angry, hurt, and accusing. It had been easier when he thought he was protecting her by leaving. Now, after their argument, it was clear that all he’d done was rip open a wound neither of them had been able to heal.

With a frustrated groan, he threw off the blankets and sat up in bed. Sleep wasn’t coming—not tonight. He rubbed a hand over his face and glanced at the clock. It was just after midnight, but it felt like the hours were crawling by, leaving him trapped with his thoughts.

His mind wandered to the only place that ever brought him a sense of calm: the rodeo. The old training grounds on the outskirts of town where he’d spent countless nights like this, working out his frustrations with the one thing he understood—bull riding. He hadn’t been back there in years, but tonight, it felt like the only place he could go to clear his head.

Throwing on a pair of jeans and his boots, Max grabbed his jacket and slipped out of the house, the cool night air hitting his face as he headed to his truck.

The rodeo grounds were quiet when he pulled up, the faint glow of the moon casting long shadows over the empty bleachers. The scent of dirt and leather filled his lungs, familiar and comforting in a way that nothing else had been since he’d come back to town. He walked toward the arena, the sounds of his boots crunching on gravel the only thing breaking the silence.

As he got closer, something caught his eye. Movement in the arena. At first, he thought it was just his mind playing tricks on him, but then he saw her.

She was on horseback, weaving through the barrels in the dim moonlight, her movements graceful and precise. It was like watching a memory come to life. She moved with a fluidity that made it look effortless, but Max knew better. He’d seen the hours she used to put in, the work that went into every sharp turn, every quick burst of speed. She hadn’t lost her touch.

He stopped at the edge of the arena, standing just out of sight, not wanting to disturb her. For a moment, he just watched, his chest tightening as he remembered how much she loved this—how much they had loved this world together.

Then, it happened. As she rounded the last barrel, something went wrong. Maybe her horse misstepped, maybe she pushed too hard, but in an instant, she was thrown off, hitting the ground hard. Her horse skittered to the side, startled by the fall.

Before he could stop himself, Max was moving. He vaulted over the fence and ran toward her, his heart pounding in his chest. She was sitting up by the time he reached her, dusting off her jeans with a wince.

“Who the fuck did I piss off in my past life for you to be the one to find me?” she muttered, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she glanced up at him.

Max skidded to a halt, a little breathless, and held up his hands in surrender. “I was just passing by. You okay?”

She shot him a glare that could’ve melted steel. “Like you care.”

He didn’t argue, just crouched down beside her, unsure of what else to do. “How can I help?”

“Help?” She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “You really think you can help now, after everything?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly, his voice softer than before. “But I’m trying.”

She rolled her eyes, but her usual fire seemed to be dimmed, just a little. “Doctor���s orders,” she said finally, wincing as she shifted her leg. “You wanna help? Raise my leg and keep it elevated for fifteen minutes.”

Max hesitated for a moment, unsure if she was messing with him or not. But the way she was holding her side, the tightness in her face, told him this was real.

He nodded and carefully slid his arm under her leg, lifting it gently and resting it on his knee. She didn’t protest, but she also didn’t look at him. They sat there in silence, the tension between them as thick as the night air.

The minutes dragged by, and Max could feel every second of it. He kept his gaze focused on the ground, resisting the urge to say something—anything—to break the silence. But she was the one who spoke first.

“You should’ve stayed gone,” she said quietly, her voice lacking the venom it usually held.

Max swallowed hard, his throat dry. “I couldn’t.”

“You mean you didn’t want to. Big difference.” She still wasn’t looking at him, her focus trained on the darkened arena ahead of them.

He shifted slightly, careful not to jostle her leg. “I missed this place,” he said after a long pause. “Missed the people. Missed… you.”

She scoffed, but there was less bite to it. “You missed me? Is that why you didn’t call for eight years? ‘Cause you missed me?”

“I didn’t know how,” he admitted, his voice low. “I thought you’d moved on. I thought it was easier for you if I wasn’t in the picture.”

“Easier?” She let out a humourless laugh. “Do you even hear yourself, Max? You just disappeared. You didn’t even give me the chance to move on, to deal with any of it. You just left, and I had to pick up the pieces.”

He clenched his jaw, the guilt settling deep in his chest. “I thought I was doing what was best.”

“Stop saying that,” she snapped, finally turning to look at him. Her eyes were filled with anger, but underneath it was something else—something softer, more vulnerable. “You keep saying that like it was some noble thing you did, but all you did was make a decision for both of us. You never even asked me what I wanted.”

Max opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. She was right. He hadn’t asked. He’d just assumed.

They fell into silence again, the weight of the unspoken things between them pressing down like a heavy fog.

After what felt like forever, she sighed, leaning back against the fence, her leg still resting on his knee. “You know,” she said quietly, “there was a time when I would’ve given anything to hear you say you missed me. But now… I don’t even know what to do with that.”

Max looked at her, his chest tightening at the sight of her so close, yet so far away. “I’m trying,” he said softly. “I know I messed up. I know I can’t fix what I did, but I’m here now. I want to make it right.”

She didn’t respond, just stared out at the empty arena, her face unreadable.

The silence stretched between them, and Max could feel the weight of it settling in his bones. He wanted to say more, to tell her everything that had been building inside him for years. But the words felt too small, too insignificant for the damage he’d caused.

After a long while, she spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if it’s enough.”

Max’s heart clenched, but he nodded. “I get that,” he said quietly. “But I’m not going anywhere this time.”

She didn’t say anything else, and the two of them sat there in the quiet of the rodeo grounds, with nothing but the stars and the distant sounds of the horses to keep them company.

For the first time in years, it wasn’t the silence that felt unbearable. It was the hope buried somewhere beneath it.

She shifted slightly, wincing a bit as she adjusted her leg on his knee. Max kept his hold steady, though every muscle in him was tense. He was waiting, unsure if she’d kick him out of her life again or keep him suspended in this strange limbo they found themselves in.

“What was it like?” she asked suddenly, her voice soft but cutting through the stillness. She didn’t look at him, just kept her eyes trained on the horizon, as if the answer was out there somewhere in the night sky. “To make it big? To live that life?”

Max glanced at her, surprised by the question. For a moment, he wasn’t sure how to respond. His instinct was to downplay it, to gloss over the highs and lows like he had so many times before when people asked. But this wasn’t just anyone asking—it was her.

He took a deep breath. “It was everything I thought it’d be,” he started, his voice low. “At first, anyway. The crowds, the money, the fame… it was wild. Everything moved so fast. One minute I was just this kid from nowhere, the next I was on posters, doing interviews, getting invited to places I’d never even dreamed of.”

He paused, rubbing the back of his neck as the memories flooded back. “The adrenaline—it’s like nothing else. Every ride, every victory, it felt like I was on top of the world. But the crashes… they’re just as big. Bigger, even.”

She listened quietly, her face unreadable. He wasn’t sure if she cared or if she was just being polite, but he kept going, needing to get it out.

“There were nights when I’d lie awake in a hotel room, hundreds of miles from home, and wonder what the hell I was doing,” he admitted, his voice softer now. “I was surrounded by people all the time, but I never felt more alone. It was like… like I was chasing something, and no matter how far I got, I couldn’t catch it. Every high came with a low, and after a while, the lows started outweighing everything else.”

She still didn’t say anything, her eyes fixed on the stars. He looked down at the ground, the dirt beneath his boots feeling more real than anything had in a long time.

“I got tired of it,” he confessed after a long pause. “Tired of the crowds, the noise, the pressure to be something I wasn’t sure I wanted to be anymore. I missed this place. I missed…” He trailed off, but she didn’t need him to finish the sentence. They both knew what he meant.

Finally, she turned her head slightly, her eyes finding his. “And you think you can just come back?” she asked, her voice steady but tinged with something bitter, something hurt. “After all of that? Just walk back into this life like nothing happened?”

Max swallowed hard. “No,” he said quietly. “I don’t think that. I know I can’t just… fix things. I’m not here to pretend that the past didn’t happen.”

She looked at him for a long moment, her gaze sharp, cutting through the quiet. “Why should I trust you?”

He didn’t flinch at the question. He’d been expecting it, waiting for it.

“You don’t have to,” he answered honestly, meeting her eyes. “I know I haven’t earned that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.”

Her jaw clenched, and she turned her gaze back to the arena. “You hurt me, Max. You didn’t just leave—you disappeared. Like I meant nothing.”

“I know,” he whispered, the words heavy with regret. “And I’m so damn sorry. If I could take it all back, I would.”

“Sorry isn’t enough,” she said, her voice trembling just slightly. “You don’t get to come back after eight years and expect me to forget what that felt like.”

He nodded, his throat tight. “I’m not asking you to forget. Or even to forgive me right away. I just want a chance to make things right. To prove that I’m not that guy anymore.”

She didn’t respond, just sat there in the silence, her leg still resting on his knee. It was a strange kind of intimacy—one built on years of unresolved hurt, but also on something deeper. Something neither of them wanted to name yet.

After a while, she sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “Nothing ever changed here, you know,” she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper. “While you were out there, living that big life, everything just… stayed the same. The same people, the same rodeos, the same barns. It was like I was stuck while you were off becoming someone else.”

Max’s chest tightened at her words. He couldn’t imagine what that must’ve felt like, to watch the world move on without her, to feel left behind. And worse, to know he was part of the reason she felt that way.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, the words feeling inadequate, but it was all he had. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want to leave you stuck. I thought you’d move on. I thought you’d—”

“Stop thinking,” she cut in, her voice sharp again, though there was a weariness in her eyes. “You keep telling yourself you did what was best for me, but you never asked me what I wanted. You just decided for both of us.”

He nodded, taking the hit. She was right, and he wasn’t going to argue with that.

She shifted again, pulling her leg off his knee and standing up, brushing the dirt off her jeans. Max stood too, though he kept his distance, unsure of what to do next. The tension between them was still there, heavy and thick, but something had changed. There was a crack in the wall she’d built around herself, just a small one, but it was there.

“Look,” she said after a long pause, her voice softer now. “I don’t know what you expect to happen. I don’t know if I can ever trust you again. But… I don’t hate you. Not anymore. I thought I did, for a long time. But it’s just… it’s hard to hate someone you used to love that much.”

His heart stuttered in his chest at the word “love.” Even though it was in the past tense, it still felt like a lifeline.

“I don’t expect anything,” he said quietly. “I just want to be here. Whatever that looks like.”

She gave him a long look, her eyes searching his face as if she was trying to figure out if he was telling the truth. Finally, she nodded, just once. “We’ll see.”

It wasn’t a promise. It wasn’t even close. But it was something.

She turned and started walking toward her truck, her steps slow, like she was still testing how much she could trust the ground beneath her.

Max watched her go, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, the weight of the past still pressing on him. But for the first time in a long time, he felt like maybe, just maybe, he had a chance.

And he wasn’t going to waste it.

part three

[stars-for-circe]

Ellie’s Camera Roll

Support Palestine

Tags / cw: fluff, some suggestive themes, quite straightforward so let’s see what’s inside!

Taglist: @happysparklingshadows @irelandzo @r3starttt @iamaboringrattat @genderfluidlesbain999 @slut4mascss @rxreaqia @kylorey25 @massivepeacefemme @elliewilliamsfavborderhopper @elliewilliamsisactuallymygf @ratdungeon @peanutbutterandjayjay @elxarw @mariasabanahabanabana @vvynia @abbyshands

A screenshot of a savage starlight poster on EBay, going for the $49 that Ellie can’t cough up.

A selfie of Ellie and Joel at an NFL game for the Dallas Cowboys. Joel’s frowning because they lost, Ellie’s smiling because she gets to go home.

A photo of the stars from when she was visiting Jackson.

A snapchat of Ellie, Joel, Tommy, and you playing monopoly as a massive argument over property starts out. The screen then effectively goes black as the phone is dropped and a loud crash is heard. Then, a flipped table is seen once it it picked up again.

A video of Ellie skulling down a beer with Jesse and Dina behind her, before throwing it to the side and dry heaving because it was warm.

A video of Ellie, Jesse, and Dina running the fuck away from security while laughing - the video showing their shoes and the road only - because they chose to record that in a gated park at midnight.

A video you secretly took of her while she was driving late at night, the roads around you just woods and darkness. In the background you can hear Joel’s playlist faintly as Ellie keeps rambling on about the full moon that night, and which stars and constellations to look out for. And in her window side reflection you see yourself smiling dumbly at Ellie, because it’s when she talks about the things she cares about that you remember why you fell in love with this girl.

Grainy photo of her Call of Duty ranking on her pc (she forgot how to screenshot).

Screenshot of her Fortnite ranking.

Screenshot of her Rocket League ranking.

A photo of a pissed off looking Jesse in the backseat of Ellie’s car, with soda all over him. The Live Photo shows the exact moment it spilled after Ellie hit a speed bump too fast.

A saved Snapchat of Jesse trying to wipe it off with a sweater Ellie left in the back, to the sounds of Ellie’s threats after he did that, and the shaking of the camera as you try not to laugh.

A photo of “No Pun Intended” volume three.

A screenshot of your drunk texts, sappy ‘I love you’s with typos and all.

A screen recording of your recent FaceTime with Ellie. You’re at work and she’s panicking in the bathroom with all of this drugstore makeup around her. You’re trying not to laugh as she’s figuring out how to use a beauty blender on her neck while cussing you out for leaving so many hickeys the night before. She then looks at the phone and starts cussing you out for laughing.

A live photo of a shooting star.

Thirty seven 0.5x selfies of yourself in her deleted folder, and 19 blurry photos of her running towards you, trying to grab her phone - you stole it while she was in the shower.

A screen recording of a Tiktok because the saves were off, showing a tutorial on making a flower bouquet with pipe-cleaners.

A photo of Ellie's split lip, after she tried to open a beer bottle with her teeth.

A screenshot of the groceries list from her notes app.

A video sent to her from Joel, from a small gathering back in Jackson during Summer. Everyone's all by the house, talking and laughing loudly. Someone's on the barbecue and someone's bringing food out from the house, much to everyone's cheering. Some old 70's playlist is playing faintly from inside, and there's a few people dancing to it. But then the camera pans down to the left, where you and Ellie are sitting near some steps, her head on your shoulder as you laugh at something she said. Then the video gets shaky from Joel trying hit the 'stop record' button as Tommy comes up to him and sees you both. And faintly in the background, you might hear him say something about Ellie marrying you someday, but only if you listen close enough.

A bathroom mirror picture of her and Jesse wearing suits and black glasses to go and see the minions movie.

A selfie of her and JJ in her lap, who’s grabbing the camera and smiling while she's not paying attention to what he's doing.

A screenshot of a very short haircut.

A screenshot of your very emotional texts telling her not to get that haircut.

A video of her dead asleep on your lap, with you brushing her hair out of her face as she scrunches her face in her sleep, before relaxing at your hand cups the side of her face softly.

A photo of her face after JJ tried to put 'makeup' on her.

A video of you all singing happy birthday to Joel, who's wearing a pink glittery tiara that says '60' in cursive.

A video of Ellie smushing a small chunk of cake on his face.

A video of Joel smushing a full piece of cake in her face.

A video of you both laughing in the bathroom while trying to get the cake off Ellie's face and shirt. You're wiping her face with a dishtowel while she's sitting on the counter, and when you lean in and reach behind her to wet the cloth in the sink, she just pulls you closer into a kiss. It turns into a messy makeout session, the cake still everywhere on her face.

A screenshot of your texts with Joel later that night-

'Happy birthday! cake tasted great'

'But you didn't take a piece the entire party?'

[reginamillls]

just something I wrote after seeing the pics of THAT gladiator costume

have some bucktommy + halloween/domestic thing

***

When Tommy comes in he notes a pair of white sneakers at his door and hears the TV on, playing a documnetary about deep ocean creatures. And he feels lighter despite just coming off of a 48.

Coming home to someone waiting for him, gives him energy it seems.

The only thing Tommy can see from his entrance looking into his living room is a pair of socked feet hanging off one end of his love seat with an apple flying up into the air and back down and Tommy walks into the kitchen to get dinner started.

"I'm thinking maybe we could do something classic," Is what Tommy gets as a greeting. "Maybe movie monsters that go together. A vampire and a werewolf."

"Hello Tommy, it's nice to see you Tommy, how was your shift?" Tommy playfully mocks from the kitchen, leaning against the counter. That gets a huff of laughter and soon Evan is sitting up, revealing messy curls and a sheepish smile.

"Hey babe," Evan says as he turns to face Tommy then, and taking a bite of his apple. "How was work?"

"It was fine," Tommy answers and he steps into the living room and bends down, kissing Evan sweetly in greeting. He tastes a little bit like the apple he was eating and Tommy can't help but smile against his lips. He'd been nervous giving Evan a key to his house, but those nerves were chased away by the reality of getting to come home to see Evan relaxed on his couch, wearing a worn sweatshirt with a hole at the collar and looking like he belongs in Tommy's space. "So there's costumes?"

"Work is throwing a thing," Evan says. "And I thought, maybe we could dress up?" He asks then adds. "I saw you had off on your calendar."

"I wouldn't be opposed," Tommy says. "I don't know about a werewolf and a vampire though. It gives me Twilight."

Evan gives him a blank look and Tommy huffs. "One of these days we are going to get you to watch those movies. I'll get Howie to join me."

"Maybe we could be a cowboy and a gladiator," Evan suggests, ignoring the Twilight comment. "I still have my hat from my ranch days-"

"So I'm the gladiator then?" Tommy cocks an eyebrow, amused. "How come you've seen Night at the Musuem and not Twilight?"

"It's a movie about a museum coming alive at night," Evan counters. "That's awesome."

"Fair," Tommy agrees and he rests his hands on Evan's shoulders and begins to massage them. " So a couples' costume? I'm guessing ketchup and mustard wouldn't work?"

"If you want to be boring." Evan huffs and then lets out an appreciative moan when Tommy digs his thumb into one of the knots in Evan's muscles.

"How about something we both know?" Tommy suggests. "Star Wars?"

"You can - oh that's the spot," Evan says shifting on the couch again. "You can be Han and I can be Luke."

"Why do you get the lightsaber?" Tommy asks, teasing.

"Because you're the pilot," Evan says. "And the vest would look great on your chest." He adds, tilting his head up and reaching an arm to pat Tommy on said chest. "Plus you have several white henleys."

Tommy huffs out a laugh at that and moves his hands up to Evan's neck, causing the other man to drop his hand and lean into Tommy's massage, his eyes shuttering close.

"Are you going as blue lightsaber Luke or green?" Tommy asks and Evan hums under his hand, thinking about it.

"Green," He says. "Luke looked good in that black outfit."

"He did," Tommy agrees, remembering a younger version of himself who had been very into Luke Skywalker and the hopeful way he looked at life.

He's always had a type.

"I was more into Han myself," Evan says and he opens up his eyes and takes one of Tommy's hands and kisses his knuckles. "I guess I have a thing for pilots."

And what can Tommy do but not lean over the couch and kiss Evan properly?

Their costumes can wait till later.

So can dinner.

[boothillssugarmomma]

Honka' Honka'

(Boothill x Fem!Reader)

cw-: sweet AF Boothill, clingy Boothill, suggestive a bit, mentions of groping

HC: Boothill's the type a guy to grab your ass and go "honka' honka'"

🎀 authorsnote: I got this head cannon from @edens-sovereign and was given permission to use it!

please don't steal my work!

Taglist🎀HSR Master List🎀Other Lists🎀

It's a gorgeous night aboard The Astral Express...

March 7th is dancing in her room to random music videos she'll definitely pester you with tomorrow. You'll never admit it but secretly you love when she shows you them.

Dan Heng is locked in his room peacefully working on the archives as always. Listening to records on a cute record player you gave him.

Himeko and Welt are sipping on sleep tea in the parlor car as they chat quietly. Trying to fall asleep eventually.

The Trailblazer is in his room, the only one sleeping. Doors locked up and fan on. (YES I SLEEP WITH A FAN 😭)

...yet in your room? While you're TRYING your best to get some sleep...your boyfriend won't stop bugging you.

Boothill wouldn't stop moving and squirming tonight. Wrapping his arms around you, trying to lay on top of you, letting go and sprawling out on the bed taking up your space, hanging off the side of the bed, and to make matters worse...whining...

Finally he sits up and groans deeply.

"It's too fudgin hot!" He whines, pouting as he pokes at your side.

"Seriously?" You sigh as your eyes flutter open. Sitting up as well and glaring at him. "And what do you want me to do about it?" You rub at the space in between your eyebrows.

"...could I have a drink or somethin'...?" He shrugs.

"Right now? Are you kidding me?" You sigh and fold your arms at the cowboy. He scooches closer and wraps his arms around you, kissing your cheek.

Boothill nods, still embracing you in his metals arms as tight as possible. You notice his expression being a bit flustered as he looks directly at you, slightly pouting again.

"Yeah, I've been thinkin' 'bout it for a bit now!" He whines in your ear as he tries to hold back his urge to move around more, but his metal twitches slightly from his legs and up to his arm

"And 's gettin' worse the more I look at ya...."

"Yeah...ok mister sweet talker... you're just trying to get me to get up and grab it for you..." You huff before looking away.

You can feel his eyes boreing into the back of your head and you bite your bottom lip. Letting out a defeated groan you turn your head back to him.

"Fine..." You sigh softly as you get out of bed and leave the room, turning down the hallway towards the Expresses kitchen to grab something for him.

As you go to the kitchen, Boothill immediately grabs your body pillow and hugs it close to his chest, wrapping not just his arms but also his legs around it.

He still couldn't contain his restless demeanor. If anyone were to see him like this, they would be pretty convinced the man was an overgrown child

He's waiting for you desperately, constantly rubbing the pillow in his embrace. It's as if the pillow was a surrogate for you, his thoughts fixated solely on you.

He waits patiently for a minute, then two, then three, then four, five, six, seven...where the hell were you?

As the minutes kept passing, so did his patience. And eventually his patience was reaching its breaking point.

He tried to distract himself by looking outside the window, watching the stars and the solar system.

But he couldn't fully divert his attention, his mind constantly wandering back to what the hell was taking you so long

Finally unable to hold back, his restlessness took him over. He leapt off the bed, pacing back and forth in your room like an abandoned puppy. His footsteps heavy and impatient.

"What oil do you like again?" You hum as you walk back in the room, holding a few oil cans.

Boothill's eyes immediately lit up at the sight of you, and he couldn't help but rush towards you, his arms wrapping around you with a mix of excitement and desperation.

You tsk your tongue as you almost drop a can due to the impact. But stop as he buried his face into your neck, his breath hot against your skin

"Any is fine at this point!" He said, his voice muffled. He pulled away slightly, looking at you with pleading eyes, a small pout on his lips. "Please sweetheart, just gimme the can..."

"Here, here hon..." You chuckle softly as you press a kiss to his jaw.

At the kiss on his jaw, a shiver ran down his spine, and a low groan escaped his lips. Boothill leaned into your touch, his breath slightly hitching as he felt your breath caress his skin. His hands tightened their hold on you, his thumb gently tracing circles on your waist

"Ah... I've missed you." He said, his voice a mixture of relief and longing as he pressed a kiss against your forehead. The tension in his body began to melt away, replaced with a sense of contentment and warmth.

"I was literally gone for a half hour..." You roll your eyes playfully as he sucks on the cans straw.

Boothill just shrugs at that, not paying attention anymore as he continues to lay his hand on your hip and drink his drink.

His eyes wander down as your head is pressed into his neck still. Peeking over your head and down to your waist he smirks at an evil idea.

As his hand moves down, a mischievous smile plays on his lips as he feels the soft curve of your ass. He gave it a gentle double squeeze, his metal fingers pressing into the flesh as he brought his mouth closer to your ear, his breath hot against your ear

"Honka' honka'..." Your boyfriend smirks deviously.

Your mouth drops open, obviously shocked at what he just did and said. "Boothill!"

"Can't help it darlin'...wanna feel how soft ya' are..." He whispered, his voice husky with desire before dropping it and humming. "Well...if I could."

"But still!" You smack his arm playfully and roll your eyes before nuzzling into his neck again.

He couldn't help but chuckle at your playful reaction. "What...just showin' my 'preciation!"

He tilted his head down, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. His hand continued its exploration, gently running up and down your side, his touch both possessive and affectionate.

His mind was a mix of desire and love for you, if he had a heart it would definitely be thumping in his chest...

"Show your appreciation another time..." You mumble with a blush on your face. Trying to nuzzle deeper into his neck to hide your dusty red face.

Boothill took notice of your flushed face and chuckled, his eyes starting to gleaming with amusement.

"Heh, who knew ya' could be so shy?" He teased playfully, a knowing smirk on his lips. "But alright, I'll hold back...for now sweet pea~" He said, his voice filled with a hint of mock resignation as he held you closer.

"...are you done with your drink yet...it's so late..." Nudging your boyfriend with your finger, a small yawn slips out.

Seeing you yawn, Boothill smiled softly and shook his head. "Ah right, forgot that you need your beauty sleep..." He drawls, his hand gently caressing your cheek and then moving a lock of hair behind your ear, his thumb lingering at your earlobe for a moment.

"You look perfect even when yur' tired..." He whispers, his voice filled with warmth and love. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before gently coaxing you back to the bed.

Walking over to the bed you flop down on it, cuddling up to your pillow and under your blanket.

Boothill watches you with a fond smile as you crawl back into bed, a sense of protectiveness washing over him.

He quickly joined you after he set his drink on the nightstand, immediately wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. His legs tangled with yours as he sought to be as close to you as possible.

He rests his chin on top of your head, his machinery whirring steady and soothing against your back.

He lets out a content sigh, his fingers gently massaging your scalp, the touch light and intimate with a hint of cold. He felt like he was finally at peace...

"I love you honey..." You whisper sleepily, drooling a bit on his chest.

Boothill swears if he had a heart it would swell with the words you say. His expression softens even more if that's possible as he holds you tighter. "I love you too" He whispers softly, the sincerity in his voice is soothing to you.

He gently presses a kiss to your shoulder, his fingers still gently stroking your hair. The moonlight streams in through the window, casting a warm glow on your intertwined bodies.

Closing his eyes, he lets the peacefulness of the moment wash over him as he holds you close, content in the embrace of your love...

Even if he can't exactly feel you...he knows deep down if doesn't matter...your love does.

🎀End🎀