#and nobody else bout you two are there?

[juliet25blog]

Portland Stalker, sasaeng, Covey, Kitty. They are all fun and nice nicknames, and I love every one of them, but if Min Ho ever calls Kitty "Katherine" then I'll lose it. I will explode of joy.

[downfallofi]

This is like the third major holiday this year where everything was fine until we had a gigantic blowout screaming match in the last hour; and my heart is heavier than even the last few days have been and I wish there was literally anywhere I could go other than here at times.

[rhaenyratargcryen]

you're my shotgun lover and i want it all | tyler owens (twisters)

masterlist ❈

summary: Every once in a while, the two of you will get a little too drunk, stay until last call, sneak back to your motel room, and fuck. Nobody knows – at least you don’t think they do – and you never talk about it when you’re sober. Tyler will generally stay until you fall asleep, but he’s always gone when you get up the next day. Only once has he woken up in bed with you the next morning, and you’ve never made that mistake again. There isn’t a name for what you feel for him, you don’t think, and you can’t tell what he thinks of the arrangement. Clearly he likes it, or he wouldn’t be making eyes at you from across three people’s laps as you pull these peanuts from their shells. author's note: i...wrote this...in one.......single......afternoon. my fingers hurt anyway he's so hot i have had a crush on glen powell since 2018 (set it up supremacy) but this movie reawakened something in me. i should probably watch top gun now

pairing: tyler owens x f!reader word count: 9,123 (...oopsie) warnings/tags: pWp (with, y'all!), alternate universe: canon divergence, friends to lovers, friends with benefits

also cross-posted to ao3 okay love you bye xoxo your comments and reblogs are appreciated but not required i will love you all the same i hope u like !!!! <3

all characters are 18+ these are 18+ activities minors pls do not interact my eye is twitching as i write this 

It has been one hell of a week.

The tornadic activity has been off the charts – more storms built up under ideal conditions for weather hell-bent on destruction in a multiple-day stretch than you can remember ever tracking before. Your team had obviously been up for the chase, but now that the storms have passed, and the sun shines on the cleanup efforts, you can’t help but wish you’d chosen a different life path. You love what you do, but God, were you tired. Blisters have formed on the palms of your hands despite the gloves you’d donned. You could practically feel the knots forming in your neck. You shovel one more load of leaf litter before heaving the blade into the ground and leaning against it. Across from you, a backhoe is demolishing and excavating the remains of a house.

You close your eyes and try to just let the sun warm your face, thinking about how fast it can all just be gone. Mother Nature’s a beautiful force, but she can be cruel.

“Hey, don’t be slowin’ down on me,” Tyler jokes, clapping a hand between your shoulder blades. You hadn’t heard him approach, and his voice has startled you, pulling you from your thoughts. “We’re ‘bout halfway done with our part, I think.”

“No,” you reply, swiping the back of your arm across your forehead, trying in vain to clear your bangs from your eyes, but they won’t budge. Tyler reaches up and, almost as if he isn’t even thinking about it, takes the unruly pieces of hair between his thumb and forefinger and tucks it behind your ear, underneath the temple of your sunglasses, to make sure it stays this time. The action is so intimate it sends a flush crawling up your neck. You chance a look around to make sure no one else has seen. “Not slowin’ down, I promise. Just thinking about how lucky we are to be alive. How sad it is that all these people just lost everything.”

You’ve known Tyler since the two of you were in college together, fast friends who’d stuck together through a lot that could've put a strain on any other relationship, although you hadn’t studied meteorology – you’d been in school to be a librarian. 

One night, he’d asked you to stay up and help him with a lab he’d missed for one of his classes, and he loves to say he knew it then – that you were hooked – but you were too far along in your degree to do anything about it now. Switching from an arts degree to one in STEM? You’d have had to start over from scratch. 

Tyler had formed his team while you were in grad school and he was working as a cowboy for the rodeo back home, and you’d dropped out without a second thought when he asked you to be a founding member, to travel the country with him every tornado season. Said he wouldn’t – couldn’t – think about doing it without you. You’ve been riding with him ever since.

The two of you share everything, always have, and sometimes you wonder if it might be too much for the professional relationship you’re supposed to have.

“That’s what we’re here for,” Tyler grins, the hand still glued to your back rubbing gently, sending goosebumps across your skin under your shirt. “To help ‘em feel like their luck is turnin’.”

Always the optimist, Tyler Owens. He clears his throat, the hand on your back pulling away, and steps slightly closer to you.

“One of the folks over there gave these to me,” he says, gesturing to a group of people gathering in front of a house that looks like something had tried to suck it into the ground from dead center. “I saved their cat from their screened-in porch, poor thing had been yowling all night apparently. Know these’re your favorite, so, here you go. I think you earned it.”

You take the tin from him and open it, your mouth instantly watering at the sight of the small, round butter cookies inside. “God,” you groan, picking one up and taking a bite, savoring it over your tongue. You can feel Tyler watching you carefully. “Thank you. You get me.”

“Do we get cookies, Tyler?”

Lily’s voice sounds from your left, and you glance over at her. The shit-eating look on her face tells you she did see Tyler fix your hair for you. Your stomach somersaults.

“If you’re good,” Tyler says, smirking, “after the sun sets, we can head back to the motel, find some shitty bar, and drinks’ll be on me, okay? How’s that sound?”

Lily whoops, turning to Dani, who’d since appeared beside her, and the two snicker and fist bump. 

“You need any help over here?”

You look back at Tyler, cupping one hand above your eyes to shield them from the sunlight. Despite your glasses, it shines bright from directly behind him, and you can hardly stand to look at him. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” you murmur in reply, bending down to toss some siding that had been blown off one of the houses on this street into the wheelbarrow you’ve been using. “You should go see what Boone’s up to – I don’t think anyone has seen him in a minute.”

No doubt Boone was hiding somewhere with one of the breakfast burritos Lily and Dani have been rolling since early that morning, seeing how long he can get away with not doing his part. He’s a good guy, but the manual labor side of the job isn’t really his thing.

“Eh, he’s better off wherever he is,” Tyler laughs, and a small smile takes over your face, too. “Hey, you sure you’re okay? You don’t need a break? You can take a minute to yourself, no one’ll judge. I know how this can all get to you a little more than it gets to everyone else.”

You know him well enough to know he’s not calling you weak-stomached, that he’s genuinely concerned for how you feel, but he’s right. It does all get to you. Settling in to help survivors of these natural disasters is just something that comes with the chasing – there isn’t one without the other for you and the rest of the crew. You nod, glancing back up at him. 

“I’m okay, Tyler. Go off and be the face of the operation – you don’t have to worry about me.”

Tyler’s eyes narrow, his gaze shifting between your eyes, trying to find evidence you’re withholding the truth from him, but he seems to find nothing. With a minute tip of his head, he turns to resume working through a long-term plan for rebuilding the town with the mayor and some other members of the local government. 

This is something else you know he loves to do – shmooze with higher-ups, show off his people skills. Not only are they higher-ups, they’re small-town folk. His kind of people. He knows how to get through to them, how to get them to trust him. You love that about Tyler. He’s never condescending – he always has a genuine desire to help. He’s been through this hundreds of times, and these people may only have been through it this one time. You look around at them, at the people of all ages picking up the pieces that remain of their community, then cross your fingers and send a thought out to anyone listening:

Please let it be the only time.

After a few more hours of genuinely back-breaking work, you hear Tyler’s sharp whistle and know it’s time, meandering over to his truck where it’s been parked for almost eighteen hours. Using your teeth, you pull your gloves from your hands and hiss. They’ve been rubbed raw, the skin blistering where each finger meets the palm. You try to ignore the throbbing sensation, leaning against the passenger side door and closing your eyes. The rest of the crew sidle up to you, taking long drags from water bottles and cigarettes and trying to make peace with how you’re leaving this place tonight.

“Does anyone else want to break off to shower first?”

It seems Dani’s the only one, and they shrug, putting their hand out, palm up, to Dexter, who hands them the keys to the RV.

“Meet y’all there,” they say, stifling a yawn, and you know it’ll be a bit before you see them. The rest of you will have to pile into Tyler’s truck, and before you can object, the other three crawl into the back seat and leave you on the front bench with Tyler. You let yourself in and close the door behind you, buckling and watching as Tyler shakes someone’s hand and hustles to meet the rest of you. His Texans cap hits the bench before he does, between the two of you, and he turns his keys in the ignition, buckling his own seatbelt.

“Where we headin’?”

“There’s a place with a mechanical bull nearby. I vote there.”

“How nearby is ‘nearby,’ Boone?”

“Uh,” he pulls his phone from his pocket, does a quick Google to double-check. “Forty-five minutes?”

Dexter leans over and grips Boone’s phone, reading the screen. “In the opposite direction of the motel, Boone.”

Everyone groans, objecting, and you press your hand against your temple to alleviate the pressure there. The noise, God, the noise.

“Could we go somewhere closer to the motel, maybe?”

“It’s got a mechanical bull,” Boone stresses, and everyone rolls their eyes.

“Boone, you know damn well we’re not making it back to the motel if we go that far away.”

He groans, and you pull your own phone out, checking Maps to see what’s around the motel.

“This one’s three minutes from where we’re stayin’,” you say, showing Tyler your screen, and he nods, shifting into reverse, backing out, and starting down the one lane of the street that’s been cleared of debris. 

“Hey Boone,” you toss over your shoulder as Tyler shifts into second gear. “By the way. Long time no see.”

Lily snorts, smacking you on the shoulder to let you know she thought that was a good one. Boone shakes his head. 

“Hey, just because you didn’t see me all day doesn’t mean I wasn’t out there, too. How do I know you were workin’, weren’t sitting on your ass in the shade somewhere, hm?”

You hold your raw, red palms out for him to inspect and that shuts Boone up quick. Tyler whistles as he gets an eyeful of your skin.

“God damn, girl,” Lily murmurs. “That looks like it hurts. I think I might have Aquaphor in my bag back at the motel if you want some.”

“I’ll be alright,” you reply, knocking your elbow against her knee behind you in thanks. “Appreciate you.”

The rest of the drive is taken mostly in silence, everyone in the backseat trying to rest their eyes, but you stay up, your eyes on the road, so Tyler isn’t the only one making the thirty-ish minute drive back to where you’re staying, where you checked in only after it’d been decided which towns had been hit the worst, so you could reach all of them easily by truck.

“What’s goin’ on in your head? Hm?”

You turn to look at Tyler and he glances at you from out of the corner of his eye, then at your lap, at the fingernails you’ve picked down to the quick. “Real quiet over there.”

“Nothing,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t let Boone get to you,” Tyler says, tapping his right fist on your thigh once, twice, then letting it rest there. You brush your knuckles against his and he opens the fist immediately, taking your hand in his but not squeezing, careful not to put pressure on the blisters on your palms.

“It’s not that,” you start, then realize your mistake, your admission. “I really – I think I’m just tired. It’s been a long week.”

You’re acutely aware of your hand in Tyler’s. It’s not like you’ve ever been shy around him – your cheeks flush at the thought – but this is…different. Sweet. More.

“Yeah, that it has,” he sighs, adjusting his left hand on the steering wheel so he can drive a little more comfortably, but his right hand stays in yours. 

You settle back into silence, Tyler seemingly having dropped the subject, and your eyes return to the road, but you feel him looking over at you, checking on you, every once in a while. You try your hardest not to meet his gaze. 

Soon enough, Tyler is putting the truck in park, then shutting the thing off. The noise – or lack thereof, you guess – wakes Dexter in the back, then Lily, who snorts when she sees your hand in Tyler’s. You pull away and unbuckle your seatbelt, watching as Tyler, with a hurt look on his face, wipes his hand on his jeans and swings himself down and out of the truck.

“C’mon, Boone,” he shouts, slapping a hand on the door that Boone has his head resting against, and the man sits up straight, wiping sleep from his eyes. “The sun hasn’t even gone down yet. Drinks on me, pal!”

The motel really is that close to the bar, so you all decide you’ll leave the truck parked there and walk home at the end of the night. The unspoken verdict is that you will all be getting shitfaced tonight.

The lingering smell of cigarettes in the air seems to rejuvenate everyone and Lily pumps a fist when she spots the old-fashioned jukebox across the room, then claps a hand over her mouth when she realizes there’s a TouchTunes sitting right next to it.

“Oh, I am so forcing you fuckers to listen to Chappell Roan all night,” she says gleefully, and you laugh along with her, looping your arm in hers and letting her pull you across the room while the boys settle in at the bar.

“So what was that all about?”

“What was what all about?” You play dumb, shrugging when Lily gives you a hard look and unhooks her arm from yours.

“Girl, seriously,” Lily scoffs, bumping your hip with hers and slipping a twenty dollar bill into the TouchTunes. Evidently she wasn’t joking when she meant you’d be listening to Chappell Roan all night. “I saw that thing earlier, the hair thing, don’t think I didn’t. And y’all holding hands in the truck. What’s going on there?”

You shake your head but she grabs your wrist. “I’m serious, Lil. Nothing’s going on. We’re friends – good friends. He noticed I was having a hard time today, and wanted to make sure I was alright. That’s all.”

You can tell she doesn’t fully believe you, and when she opens her mouth to object, you cut her off.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom, okay?”

Lily watches you, trying to read the small line between your eyebrows, but eventually she nods and lets go of you, letting you turn away from her. You push through the door to the women’s restroom, your nose wrinkling at the smell, but you ignore it. Standing in front of the sink, you watch yourself, hands shaking. This isn’t you. You’re better than this at shoving these feelings for Tyler down, way down – or, rather, you had been, up until this week broke you, apparently. Turning the knob for the cold water to the left, you let it run over your sore hands, hissing at the feeling. Carefully, you cup your palms and watch them fill, then splash the water onto your face, soothing the flush. There. That should help.

There’s a cold bottle of Coors in front of the seat next to Dexter when you arrive back to the group, “Red Wine Supernova” playing from the speakers. You almost snort at all the old men – regulars, no doubt – groaning out their distaste for whoever chose the music all across the room.

“Thanks,” you toss over your shoulder at Tyler, sitting on the other side of Dexter and Boone. He nods and nurses his own. You frown and settle onto the stool, leaning an elbow on the bartop so you can turn and face your friends. The cold beer against the palms of your hands feels so nice.

What’s wrong with him? He won’t make eye contact with you, and you notice his jaw clicking as he grits his teeth. What’s got his panties in a twist?

As the night unfolds, you find yourself laughing more and more, loosening up, letting the stress of the last week fade into memory. Someone has produced a deck of cards from God knows where and Dani – who did join the group eventually – is showing off card tricks you didn’t even know they knew. You feel a warmth spreading through your body, and you can’t stop thinking about how much you love all of these people. Your friends. Your family. Empty bottles are swiftly replaced with full, cold ones without notice, and everyone is languid, relaxed, unburdened by the work that you’re all doing.

You take a pull from your drink, using the cover of the bottle to risk a glance to Tyler three seats down from you to find that he’s already watching you, and the look in his eye tells you exactly what he’s thinking. That somersault-y feeling is lower than your stomach now. You’re only three beers deep, but the air in your head reminds you that you’ve barely eaten all day, so you’re a little more affected by the alcohol than you’d usually be. Impolitely, you reach across Dexter next to you to grab a handful of peanuts from the basket to his left.

Glancing back up at Tyler, you meet his heady gaze again, and he smirks around the lip of the bottle against his mouth. He knows he’s got you right where he wants you. You swallow nervously around another sip of beer.

Every once in a while, the two of you will get a little too drunk, stay until last call, sneak back to your motel room, and fuck. Nobody knows – at least you don’t think they do – and you never talk about it when you’re sober. Tyler will generally stay until you fall asleep, but he’s always gone when you get up the next day. Only once has he woken up in bed with you the next morning, and you’ve never made that mistake again. There isn’t a name for what you feel for him, you don’t think, and you can’t tell what he thinks of the arrangement. Clearly he likes it, or he wouldn’t be making eyes at you from across three people’s laps as you pull these peanuts from their shells.

“Alright, y’all,” Lily says, slapping a hand on the bar, startling you out of your thoughts. You watch her, popping a nut into your mouth. “Think I’m gonna head out. I suggest you all do, too, fuckers, it’s late.”

Everyone starts to protest, but one glance at the clock tells you you’ve all stayed much longer than you thought – it’s a quarter past midnight, and you’ve got to be up with the daylight. You balk, but if you want to talk to Tyler tonight, you know you’ve got to shoulder your exhaustion and stick it out a little longer.

“I think I might stay for a bit,” you murmur, watching everyone stand and gather their things. You glance over at Tyler, who you can see clearly now that everyone’s out of their seats, and he’s watching you, too. The look on his face reads plain, now – he wants you.

“I’ll stay with her,” he says, eyes on yours. The green in them has disappeared almost completely, you notice, his pupils blown wide. “Walk her back. Y’all head back if you want.”

“I might stay, too –” Boone’s voice cuts off, coughing as Lily elbows him in the stomach, maybe a little too hard. “What the fuck was that for?”

“You’re going to bed, too, Boone,” Dani interrupts, a hand on his shoulder, guiding him towards the door. They poke him once when he starts to protest. “C’mon, now.”

Everyone shuffles out the front, Dexter calling good night, and all of the sudden, it’s just you and Tyler. You don’t know why, but your palms begin to sweat at the thought of being alone with him again. He stands, palming his drink, and slides onto the seat next to you, his body angled towards yours.

He’s never made you nervous like this. You don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you.

“So,” Tyler starts, grinning at you. “You come here often?”

You snort, emboldened by the booze, and he chuckles in response. “Idiot.”

“God, but I do love making you laugh.”

You blush under his scrutinous gaze, and take a quick swig of the dregs of your drink, unsure what to say to that. He mirrors you, taking a sip of his own while his eyes bore into yours. Accusatory.

“You don’t do it much anymore, you know that?”

“Do what?”

“Laugh.”

You press your fingertips to your mouth and Tyler’s eyes follow your hand. “I guess I just haven’t had much to laugh about lately,” you start, sighing deeply. “Tornado season’s been hard this year, and you know how much that – it gets to me. As much as I love what we do. You know. Remember that family a couple weeks back whose daughter was stuck under her bunk bed when it pressed on her too long, lost her leg below the knee? That got to me, Tyler. It did.”

“It gets to me, too,” he murmurs, knocking his knee against yours. “I guess I’m just better at hiding how bad it affects me. You can talk to me about it, though. You can talk to any of us.”

“I know I can,” you breathe, trying to keep your hands from shaking. “I know. Sometimes I don’t know what to say, though, you know, what is there to say? It’s not fair to complain about how sad it makes me to watch these people lose everything.”

“You’re allowed to feel sad. And to feel frustrated. It’s not fair, you’re right, but we’re doing good work, yeah? Fighting the good fight. Figuring out what makes these things tick, how to warn people when they’re in the path, get them outta the way and safe. Maybe they lose their house, their car, but they won’t lose themselves, or each other. That’s what matters most. Just remember that.”

You look up at him, set your elbow on the bartop, and prop your chin on your open palm. Your hands don’t hurt so bad anymore, you notice. “Thanks, Tyler.”

“Anytime,” he smiles, but you shake your head. 

“Seriously. You always know what to say.”

A look crosses his face then, too quick for you to read, and he sets his drink down, flagging the bartender over to close out the team’s tab. You frown, wondering if you’d, ironically, said the wrong thing.

“What’s up?”

Tyler looks back to you, and this time, the look in his eyes is unmistakable. It burns. “Taking you home, sweetheart.”

The walk back to your motel is done in silence. Tyler’s hand swings next to yours, and you feel it searching for yours more than once, but you don’t take it. You climb the stairs together, slowly, and he walks you to your door. His room is one more floor up.

You can tell he thinks you won’t invite him in, that you’ve changed your mind – or maybe that you never made it up. He hadn’t, after all, told you plainly that that was why he’d stayed with you at the bar. You unlock the room with your key card and step inside, opening the door only far enough for you to fit through it. You turn back to look at him, his face awash in the street lights shining into the hallway. You flip the lightswitch on next to you, illuminating the room behind you, too.

“Well,” he murmurs, making to head back down the stairs. “Good night.”

“Tyler?”

His head turns back to look at you, watching as you hold out one hand and he takes it, letting you pull him closer to you. You press yourself into him, push your whole face against his chest, your hip keeping the door from closing on the two of you. You inhale deeply, the smell of him overtaking your senses. His cologne, yes, but underneath that, the smell of dirt, earth. Home.

You feel his arms wrap around your back and you turn your head to the side, press your ear to his heartbeat. Your hands come up to scratch down his back and you feel it when he shudders.

“Stay?”

You hear his breath hitch in his chest, then the deep rumble of his voice as he says, “Alright, baby.”

With a short inhale, your eyes flutter, nearly closing at the term of endearment. You step back, pulling him with you, and as you close the door behind you, he pushes one hand up into your hair and pulls your head toward his.

“I, uh,” you whisper against his lips when they get close enough to yours, “I think I might shower first, if that’s okay with you?”

“Alright,” he murmurs, unlacing his hand from the strands of your hair before toeing his boots off and carefully setting them under the chair next to the front door. “You want company?”

You swallow. You’ve never done anything like that before. It’s always been quick. When you do this with him, you hardly ever have time for a chat before he’s got your shirt over your head and his mouth on your skin.

“Sure,” you reply. You feel him watch as you turn around and pull your shirt off, reaching back to unclasp your bra. The modesty feels redundant, but you can’t help it.

“Not gettin’ shy on me now, are you? S’not like I haven’t seen you naked before,” he chuckles, and you throw a look at him over your shoulder just as he’s pulling his own shirt over his head. He left his hat at the bar, you think. You’ll have to go back in for it when you pick up the truck.

“Tyler,” you scold, and he laughs at you, steps across the room to wrap an arm around your torso and press a kiss to where your neck meets your shoulder. The place he knows makes you melt. You sigh and push back against him, the feeling of his hard chest against your bare back a welcome one. This feels more like what you know, what you’re used to.

“Shower,” you remind him, and he nods, his forehead pressed into that spot now, and he pushes his fingers underneath the waistband of your jeans, running them along the bit of skin there around to the front, where the fabric splits at the button. He pops it undone, then uses his thumb and forefinger to grip the zipper and slowly – so slowly – pulls that down. He can’t help himself, you know that, and so you hold your breath and wait for him to push his hand into your panties. Ever a predictable man, he does just that, and you gasp at the feeling of his warm hand against you.

“Are you sure?” Tyler’s breath against your neck makes you shiver, and you press your ear to the side of his chin. He runs his fingers along the seam of you, finding first your clit, your legs twitching at the sudden rush of pleasure when he brushes his hand against it, then pushing down to find you wet and wanting. You cry out softly. “You don’t sound sure. You don’t feel sure.”

You hum, your neck stretching back until your head is pressed to his chest, and he pulls his hand back up to start working small circles on your clit, your wetness on his fingers allowing for smooth movement, with just enough friction to have you panting for more. 

“Sounds more to me like you kinda want me to fuck you with my fingers.”

“Tyler,” you whimper, telling him with just his name that you are getting close. He smiles against the side of your neck, pulling his hand away and shoving your jeans and underwear down just enough that his hand has room to smack your clit lightly. You squeal, right leg kicking out at the feeling, and he continues moving his hand in circles to soothe the hurt.

Your breath is coming out of you in short huffs, and before you can come, Tyler takes his hand off of you and wraps it around your stomach to join the other. You pant and whine, rubbing your thighs together to chase the feeling he’d had you practically pressed up against, now ebbing with the loss of his fingers.

“You said you wanted to shower,” he whispers in your ear, pulling your panties back up, and you scowl, pushing away from him. He laughs and holds his hands up in defense as you pick your t-shirt up off your bed and crack it at him like a whip. “Let’s shower, baby.”

“I might kick you out right now, Owens,” you snark, but the small smile on your face gives you away, and Tyler unbuttons his own jeans, leaving them in a pile on the floor at the end of the bed. Your jeans join his, and you’re both left in your underwear.

“You wouldn’t,” he replies, pulling his briefs off slowly, biting his bottom lip as you watch him. “You like this cock too much.”

You can’t help laughing at him, but the sight of him bare in front of you does have you biting your lip. You step forward to cup his growing length in your hand. Before you can move it, Tyler puts a hand on your wrist.

“How’s your hand?” He makes to pull it away, presumably to turn it over and appraise your blisters, but you shake your head.

“S’fine,” you whisper, tightening your grip. You tug once, twice, and press a kiss to his bare chest, then tip your head back to search out his lips. He leans down to oblige you, his lips parting against your mouth as you twist your fist. You love these moments you share with him, when you’re both bare, physically, emotionally, away from the real world, and you can pretend this is an everyday thing. When you’re not trying to tell yourself you feel nothing for him. Like this is just how it is between you.

Tyler groans when you pull your hand away from him and you click your tongue, press that same hand against his bicep.

“Doesn’t feel so good, now does it?”

Before you even know what’s happening, Tyler is picking you up, one arm underneath your back and the other around the backs of your knees. You look up at his face and laugh. “Put me down, Owens!”

He grins and carries you the few paces into the bathroom, placing you on your feet in front of the tub. Tyler leans down and pushes his thumbs underneath the waistband of your panties, waiting for you to put your hands on his shoulders and step out of them.

He lets you pull away from him to turn the hot water on, adjusting the cold side until the temperature is perfect, before pulling you against his chest once again. This time, you can feel his hard cock pressed against your backside, and you hum appraisingly. You reach behind you to fist him again, but he shakes his head – you feel his chin brush against the top of your head – and he groans out, “Mm-mm.”

“What?”

“We’re gonna shower, baby, c’mon.”

You glance back towards him and watch as he flicks the overhead light on. “So we don’t slip and die,” he says, and you laugh, pushing the shower curtain to the side. Holding Tyler’s hand, you step over the lip of the tub and under the steady stream of warm water, inhaling deeply when it hits the sore muscles in your shoulders and back. Tyler groans at the feeling, too, when he steps in behind you.

“Here, switch with me,” he murmurs, guiding you by your waist until you’re the one underneath the water. You let it fall onto the top of your head, over your face and down the back of your hair, for a moment, eyes closed, relishing the feeling. Tyler reaches both hands up and brushes the water out of your eyes, runs his hand over the top of your head. 

“Shampoo?”

You open one eye, the other shut against the water, and nod. You gaze up at him, heart squeezing at the way he’s watching you. His smile widens and he takes the tiny bottle in his hand – it looks even more comically small now – and dumps the product into his other palm, setting the bottle down onto the edge of the tub and rubbing his hands together.

“Turn around.”

You do as he asks, inhaling sharply through your nose when you feel his hands run through the hair at the crown of your head. Your stomach aches with longing as you register how unnaturally intimate this is. His fingers feel so good against your scalp, which is slightly sunburnt, you’re now realizing. He massages the shampoo further into your hair, running his fingers down the back of your neck and across the tops of your shoulders. When he’s satisfied with his shampoo job, he steers you by your arms to face him again, then carefully helps you tilt your head back and rinses it all from your hair.

You watch him pick up the other small bottle from the shelf, warm water still running down the back of your head. 

“I’ll do my conditioner,” you murmur, taking the bottle gently from his hands. “It’s a – it’s a science.”

“I am very good at science, if you can recall.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “It’s something I’ve gotten perfectly right. It’ll take just a sec.”

So you work the conditioner through the ends of your hair, avoiding his gaze as he watches your hands first coat your hair in the product, then rinse it out. He reaches forward to run his own fingers across it, as gently as he can.

“Hm,” he makes the noise in the back of his throat, pulling his hand away. “Soft.”

You can hardly look at him, the twisting feeling in your stomach shifting to something warmer, something further from apprehension, something that feels a lot like want. “You?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I’m good. Here,” he says, rubbing his hands across the plane of your upper back. “You’re tense. You worked hard today. Let me help.”

You weren’t going to protest, but before you can, Tyler guides you forward and out of the direct spray of the shower, then presses his thumbs into your muscle. You groan, your head falling forward onto his chest at the feeling, and he chuckles at you, continuing with his hands. “Feel good?”

“So good,” you whimper, and you feel his cock twitch against your stomach.

“You fucking dog,” you joke, and Tyler laughs against you, pushing your hair off the back of your neck and pressing his thumbs in there, too.

“Hey, what can I say? I like making my girl feel good.”

You freeze. His girl? His girl. He hasn’t noticed your reaction, and he keeps pressing his fingers into your sore muscles, pulling one hand away briefly to push the showerhead down and away from the two of you. You glance up, already missing its warmth, but you find that the steam rising around you is doing a good enough job at that.

“Here, baby,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead and guiding you to press your hands against the tiled wall to your left, running his hands down your back.

“What are you –”

Before you can finish the thought, you feel Tyler’s fingers parting the seam of your cunt from – from behind, and you groan at the feeling of his middle finger slipping inside of you.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he groans, his knees hitting the floor behind you. You toss a glance at him over your shoulder and your own knees nearly buckle at the way he’s looking up at you – with hunger, and with reverence, and with something else entirely unrecognizable. He looks wild. He looks in love.

One of Tyler’s hands clamps down around your hips and he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh as his finger starts to shift in and out of you. You shiver and push your face into the cool tile, groaning softly when he finds that rough bit of flesh inside of you, the one that makes you come undone if he works it long enough.

“Yeah?” Tyler sounds fucked out already, his voice breathy against your skin, and you can picture the look on his face, the concentrated expression he gets when he’s trying to make you come. You try to focus on the feeling of the shower’s spray where it hits the edge of your foot rather than how good his finger feels inside you because if you think too closely about how good it feels, you’ll get lightheaded. And nobody wants that.

“Yeah,” you reply weakly, and for a few minutes it’s just like that, the only sound in the bathroom the shower, your panting moans, and the noise your pussy makes as he pulls his finger in and out.

“Sound so good for me, baby,” he says, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh again, and you whine, trying to protest when he slips his finger from you. He laughs deep in his chest and lightly smacks the swell of your ass.

“Don’t complain when I’m doin’ somethin’ nice for you,” he jok, and you can feel then that he’s shifting himself around. You want to look over your shoulder, want to see for yourself what he’s doing, but freeze when you feel his palms cupping your ass, his nose pressing against the inside of your thighs.

Your mouth forms the word oh, but no sound comes out until you feel his mouth press against your cunt, tongue pushing inside of you, and then you cry out, chest heaving, when he presses a sloppy, wet kiss to your clit. You pull your face from where it’s still resting against the tile and look down at Tyler to find he’s already looking right up at you. His grip on your ass tightens when you make eye contact with him, and he spreads you open wider for him, eyes narrowing as his tongue flicks again, and again, and again.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he moans against you, the vibrations causing your legs to twitch. You already thought you were going to burst, the steam from the shower, the way he’d washed your hair, the fact that he was in your room at all – it all made you feel slightly insane. To add insult to injury, he’s just pushed two fingers inside of you and immediately found the spot that takes you out, and you start to shake a little.

“Tyler,” you whine, pushing one hand down to grip his hair. He groans when you tighten your hold on it, fucking into you a little faster. “Tyler, fuck, gonna come.”

“So come, baby,” comes his reply, and you do, you come so hard that the toes on your right foot curl until you’re on tiptoe and Tyler has to reach up and grip your waist to steady you. You feel it crest, and peak, then subside, but he keeps working you through it, his mouth moving against you still, and a second, smaller – though still good – orgasm wracks your body right after the first.

You breathe through it, push your foot down so you’re standing flat on the surface of the tub again, and wait for Tyler to pull his fingers out of you. 

“Baby,” Tyler groans, squeezing your hips, his fingernails biting slightly into your skin. “You gotta let go’a me, if you want me to get up.”

His voice, fuck, his voice, you think, releasing your grip on his hair and turning to watch him rise from his knees, the tile cold against your back. You surge forward to kiss him square on the mouth and he catches you, smiles against you when you part your lips to taste yourself on his tongue.

“Was that good?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, pressing one, two, three more quick kisses to his mouth, before he reaches behind you to turn off the water. “So fucking good.”

Neither of you bother with a towel, instead opting to stumble toward the queen bed in the middle of the room and climb right underneath the covers.

“Hi,” you whisper when you’re settled in, the duvet pulled up under your chin. Your eyes rove over his face, then glance over to the alarm clock behind him. 1:56 in the morning. “You still wanna fuck?”

Tyler snorts, reaching over to poke you in the side, gripping the skin there until you start to laugh. “You still wanna fuck?”

“Yeah,” you reply, grinning, when you catch your breath. “Wanna?”

He’s quiet for a second, watching the duvet rise and fall with each breath you take, before he peels it off of you, using his elbow to push himself up until he’s leaning over you. There’s a rosy flush on your chest, your breasts heaving and it’s all he can do not to lean down and take one of your nipples in his mouth, the one closest to him. Instead, he runs the back of his other hand across your chest, catching against the hard peak, and watches your breath stick to the inside of your throat. You feel yourself subconsciously leaning toward him as his face comes toward you. You want him to kiss you, but instead, he angles his mouth to kiss the skin below your chin.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes against your neck, pressing his open mouth to you there, and you gasp at the feeling – of his mouth against you, and of his praise. It all feels so nice. He just made you come in the shower, and now he’s going to make you come in this bed, hopefully more than once. 

You wrap your hands around his back and pull him toward you, watch as he settles in between your thighs. You can feel his thick cock, heavy, insistent, where it presses against you, and you want to take him into your hands, but he has other plans. 

With one hand pressed into the pillow on either side of your head, Tyler uses his knees to knock your legs out further, sitting back against his heels when he’s satisfied. He wraps his big hands around your thighs and pulls you closer, smiling down at you. “You’re so beautiful.”

You blush when he repeats himself, suddenly feeling very bare. He’s just as naked as you are, but you can’t help but feel like he’s seen your whole hand, meanwhile you hardly have any idea what cards he might hold. In the dim light from the lamp beside your head, you notice that you can see the green of his irises again. It seems like the shower sobered the two of you up very quickly.

His gaze locked on yours, Tyler takes himself into his hand, groaning at the pressure of his grip after neglecting his own want for so long, but he suddenly curses, pausing just as he’s about to press inside of you.

“What?”

“I don’t have a condom,” he breathes, sitting back again. He runs one hand through his hair, visibly weighing the options.

“It’s okay, Tyler,” you murmur, leaning up onto your elbows. “It’s okay. I have an IUD, and I got screened after the last time I was with someone. I’m good. I’m good if you’re good.”

Tyler heaves a heavy sigh, running his hands up your thighs. “You’re sure? I’m clean, too, cross my heart. But only if you’re sure.”

You nod. “My head is clear. I think I shook off my drunk an orgasm or two ago.”

A grin crosses his face, and you roll your eyes at him before he even opens his mouth. Two? he mouths, then whistles lowly. You smack his stomach, and he grabs your wrist in his hand, lightning quick, pressing a kiss to the pulse point there. Your jaw falls slack, and you go all soft and pliant, letting him pin your hands above your head. His body comes down over yours, and his mouth presses to your cheek, then your forehead, and when your eyes flutter shut, the ghost of a kiss crosses them, too.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good,” he murmurs, and normally if a man were to say that to you, you would immediately regret letting him into your bed. But for some reason, when Tyler says it, it sends that familiar warmth spiraling down into your gut. You know he means it.

Slowly – too slowly – he guides himself back to your entrance, shifting his hips so they’re resting comfortably against yours, and he presses himself inside of you. You hiss; the girth of him, although a welcome stretch, is also a bit of an uncomfortable one. He leans down to kiss you, working you through it with a thumb pressing circles into your clit, sliding himself in bit by bit until he’s fully seated. 

A groan pushes out of him when you clench around him, testing the waters.

“Careful,” he murmurs, easing his hips back. “I’d like it if this lasted longer than ten seconds, please.”

You laugh against the side of his head, pull your hands down from where he’d left them above you and wrap yourself around his shoulders, pulling him flush against you. Tyler grips your thighs and starts to work himself in and out of you, carefully, gently, but you squeeze his waist with your knees. Encouraging him. Asking him to pick it up. You can handle it.

His hips start to pull back and snap against yours quicker and quicker, Tyler panting in your ear, lifting up onto his palms and pushing himself off of you. He sits up onto his knees and tilts your hips up for a different angle, one that sets sparks dancing in front of your eyes. You groan, head tossed back, and dig your nails into his thighs as his pace picks up.

“Fuck, yeah, that it, baby? I can feel you – fuck, feel you squeezin’ me.”

You hardly have a voice with the rate he’s slipping in and out of you, barely enough to squeak out, “Fuck,” before your cunt has him in a vice grip, working through another orgasm.

“Ohhh, that’s it, huh, that’s it.” His mouth is going a mile a minute, neither of you really paying much attention to anything he’s actually saying. You’re both focused on his own mounting orgasm – you don’t feel like your body is capable of much more than that – and you weakly clamp down around him once more. His eyes squeeze shut, his hips stutter, and he grits out, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck,” before he slots against you and you feel him filling you. You run a hand down his back, soothing him as he comes, biting your lip at the feeling, foreign but enjoyable.

Tyler groans and glances down to where his cock is softening inside of you. He eases his hips back, cupping your face and pressing a kiss to your forehead as he does. “Shit, I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You nod meagerly, pressing the back of your hand against your warm cheek. He watches you and, assured that you’re not going to pass out on him or anything, stands and hobbles into the bathroom. The sink turns on out of sight, and you close your eyes, listening to the water run. Tyler returns with a warm, wet towel and wipes the inside of your thighs, swiping gently across your cunt, before folding the towel and letting it fall to the floor at your bedside.

You feel loose, calm. Safe. You hardly notice him turn the light off, but you do feel the bed dip beside you as he rejoins you under the covers and pulls you into his arms. You melt against his sturdy chest, his heartbeat under your face a comfort, the rhythmic tick tick tick of it lulling you to sleep. But there’s still one thing you have to know before you can relax completely.

His breathing has started to even out, but he hasn’t snored yet, so you know he’ll still hear you when you ask, “Are you gonna leave?”

He grunts an acknowledgement of your question, nuzzling down into the top of your head.

“Do you want me to stay?”

You know your answer, but you still bite your lip, considering the question. You hadn’t thought before that maybe he left after every night you spent together because he thought you didn’t want to wake up with him. “Yes.”

“Okay,” he murmurs against your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Then I’ll stay.”

If he’s at all worried about what will happen when you wake up tomorrow, he doesn’t show it, but anxiety courses through you at the thought of anyone finding out. Does he want the others to know? Because that’s what it feels like.

“Stop thinking about it,” he whispers, like he can hear your thoughts racing. “It’ll be fine. Just go to sleep.”

Easy for him to say. He’s out like a light. And you’re left alone with your thoughts until you fall into fitful, dissatisfying sleep sometime around when the world outside starts to turn blue.

A pounding on your door wakes you from deep sleep – the deepest you’d gotten all night, at least – and you try to sit up but find there’s a heavy weight on your chest blocking you. You rub the sleep from your eyes, glancing down at the sleeping body next to you. It takes a second for it to register: Tyler’s here. 

Tyler’s here. Sidled up against you, arm thrown over your stomach like this is where he belongs. He didn’t leave. He stayed, like he said he would. His face looks so peaceful – so beautiful – you almost hate to wake him.

“Come on, sleepyhead! Time to get a move on!”

Almost. You scramble to push Tyler off of you, ignoring his noises of protest, jumping out from under the covers and grabbing various articles of clothing off the floor to pull over your naked form. You plop back down on the bed, this time on his side, right next to where he’s starting to wake.

“Dude, get up, they’re gonna know you’re not in your room. They’re gonna know you’re in here.”

“So what,” he grumbles, rolling over as you push him and settling deeper into the bed. “Let ‘em.”

You sit up straight, one hand on his arm. “You mean that?”

He hums and turns his neck to glance at you over his shoulder. “Yeah, ‘course I do. You’re my girl.”

Your face flushes a deep pink and Tyler grins, reaching over to wrap an arm around you and drag you back down into the bed, pinning you under him and peppering an assault of open-mouthed kisses all over your face. You grin, thinking that you could get used to this – just not right now.

“Seriously, Tyler,” you laugh, pushing a hand against the side of his face. He squeezes your hip. “We have to get up. We gotta get back out there.”

Tyler sighs, loosening his grip on your body and kneeling over you. “Yeah, you’re right. Alright, alright.”

He stands and takes the top sheet with him, wrapped around his waist, and heads to the bathroom. To brush his teeth, you hope. God.

“You know,” he says, head popping back out into the room, mouth full of toothpaste. “Yesterday. I wanted them to see us holding hands.”

You watch as he smiles at you and disappears back into the bathroom, then fall back onto the bed, hands pressed over your eyes. 

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you are dressed, teeth brushed, hair taken care of, day packs slung over your shoulder, and you’re pulling the door closed behind you when you hear a whistle that pulls your attention to the parking lot.

“Damn, Owens!”

The voice makes you jump, and you groan. You thought you were going to get away with the sneaking around, but the rest of your team is watching from next to the RV as the two of you descend the stairs together.

Lily and Dani turn to Boone with smug looks on both their faces, and he rolls his eyes and pulls his wallet from his back pocket. They hold their hands out for him to slap two twenty dollar bills down into.

“What’s that?” You ask when you get close enough to them.

“We had a bet that you and Owens would come out of that room together. Well, that one or his. Didn’t matter which.”

“A bet I just lost,” Boone groans, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I thought for sure…”

The rest of the crew snickers, including Tyler, who won’t look at you. You poke a finger into his chest.

“Did you know about this?”

“No, I swear,” he says, hands up, and you don’t know why, but you believe him. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t drunkenly confess to Lily weeks ago that sometimes we, you know…”

You scoff, almost mad, but then Boone shouts and the scoff turns into a snicker because, hey, you love him, but you can’t help but relish in his defeat.

“So they knew?! That’s cheating!”

He storms off while the rest of you laugh, Dani clutching their side and following him around the side of the building to try to make amends, trailing off, “If it makes you feel any better…”

Lily looks over at you, then at Tyler, a grin swallowing her face. “So, are you guys, like, together now? Or something?”

You look up at Tyler, who’s smiling softly at you, clearly deferring to you to answer that question. You feel a surge of affection for him swell in your chest. Clearing your throat, you turn to Lily.

“Or something.”

[cheyisagirlkisser]

Your writing is mwah 💕 if you ever want, can you do a spoiled bratty femme who's possessive (for example: gripping abby's chin, leaving kiss marks, hickeys, sitting on abby's lap etc), mouthy, playful x possessive!dom!abby too? it starts sfw (with a light 'fight/argument' between them being both jealous and then turn into nsfw? ilyyyy 🫶🏼✨

also abby is too fuckin hot to handle ah...i need her carnally

content: 18+ content, possessive bratty reader/possessive dom abby (toxic duo), fem reader, hickies, nail scratches, and lipstick stains left on each other, mentions of possessive behavior at parties and during sex, reader likes to stalk abby's socials, ellie cameo (she is a friend of reader who abby is jealous of), argument and insults leading to rough sex, grinding, manhandling, clit stim & fingering (r! receiving), groping (tits and ass), strap-on sex, petnames (princess, 'abs')

word count: 2.7k

You don’t enjoy getting jealous, but it can’t be helped at times. Especially not the times when you are harmlessly stalking Instagram comments left on Abby's posts and see girls flirting with her in them. Not that she’d ever entertain it, of course. It's the fact that the comments are there is what gets you irrationally mad. You wonder if she has read them. You wish she would just take them down instead of leaving them up for your own humiliation, for others to see the way cherryvalentine_90 spams filthy things under your girlfriend's gym pictures.

Simply sitting on your couch, adorned in baggy pajamas and humble mismatched underwear, you spend your time sabotaging by taking deep dives through Abby's instagram. You eventually reach the bottom of her page, but not before you end up bitter. Reruns of an old tv show are only existing in the background now, leaving a tense feeling throughout the room that poor Abby is unaware of in her own house, probably thinking sweet thoughts of her pretty girl. 

You nearly drop your phone when Abby randomly calls you. Your brain goes through a small, impulsive thought process. You hit the red circle, and go back to doom scrolling. Your instagram reels are all shitty regurgitated tiktoks and you’ve never even cared to watch them before, but you’re hardly paying attention now anyways. You know Abby is going to worry. She will call again and text until she inevitably knocks on the door, and then the familiar cycle will pan out.

You don’t mean to be jealous. 

It’s rare in the past that you cared this much about trivial matters involving your partner. With Abby though? Things are entirely different. You feel the need to always kiss and love on her when you’re in public and other girls are staring, like at a party last week when she had her hands spread out around your waist the entire time as you sat on her lap to keep other girls from even looking at her. The constant need to remind her that she is yours lives within you, and it isn't a subtle one, either. But is it really so bad to cover your girlfriend's lovely tits in a hickey or two? Is it really the worst if you stalk her instagram, and often find yourself cupping her face while you look so intensely at her pouty lips, smashing yours onto them to imprint your own name into them through kisses?

Abby isn't a saint, either. Often will you feel her lips ghost over your neck, leaving dark purple marks and whispering to allege that you’re hers and nobody else’s. Reminding you that not another soul gets to touch you or fuck you, and not a single person in this party will be leaving with you but her. At the same time, Abby loves to make fun of you for getting jealous while she feels the same bouts of possessiveness. The only difference is, she is subtle and quiet about it. You don’t hesitate to make a scene over another girl even glancing Abby’s way.

You can’t be too surprised by the terse knock on your front door. You stand up, heading to the door with attitude-filled defenses prepared. 

You open the door to an Abby with her arms crossed, in a tank top that makes you want to pull her in and forget all about the grievances (of absolutely nothing), but you are unfortunately too much of a brat for that. 

“What did I do this time?” Abby asks, already sounding utterly exasperated. 

“Nothing you did, of course. I just don’t appreciate it when you don’t delete the countless comments other women leave on your posts. You must like the attention.” You state in a fake nonchalant tone, though you’re far from anything calm. Abby knows this, too.

Abby scoffs at you, but almost seems amused at your reasoning for acting out. “Seriously? You know I don’t check my comments like you do, babe. I don’t even entertain that shit, and neither should you.” 

“Oh, but when my friend Ellie commented on my post, you told me to delete it.” You argue back. 

“That was because I felt like Ellie was into you!” Abby retorts, getting more defensive now. She walks right past you and into your home, sighing. “You always get way too in your head, babe. I’ll delete the comments if they make you that upset, but I’m not putting up with the attitude.” 

You feel a little childish now, standing in front of her after a major meltdown. Still, you can’t help but push. “Yeah, well Ellie would have deleted them months ago.” 

Abby’s intentions quickly change from “we can work this out” to crazy, possessive thoughts of just fucking the name Ellie out of your system. She wants to make you forget Ellie even exists. So, she does what she probably shouldn’t do on impulse. She steps forward, entering into your space. 

“You really think Ellie is better than me?” She asks, voice low and almost dangerous. When you don’t reply, suddenly obedient, she instead finds it disrespectful. Abby leans in closer, lips nearly brushing against yours. The tension heightens by multiple levels. “If you really want Ellie so much, be my guest. But don’t come crawling back the next day begging me to fuck you when she can’t get you off. If you want me, I’ll fuck you right there on your couch, no bratty attention needed.” 

Her words send a wave of butterflies through your lower stomach and make your cheeks hot with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal. You still can’t find your voice, tongue-tied by how quickly she shut you down. Words aren’t needed, anyway. In only seconds, your lips are on hers, your arms are wrapping around the back of her neck to allow for you to mold your body against hers. She kisses you back with equal intensity, a kiss that isn’t as sweet and tender as the previous, but instead a result of two very jealous people. 

Her hands slide down to cup your ass through your pajamas, earning herself a soft, desperate whine that she can swallow from your lips. Her tongue flicks at yours before just opting to suck on it, loving how you react to every little thing she does. 

Kisses grow more and more frenzied until Abby has enough of the touchy-feely. Her hands find your legs, hitching them up to wrap around her waist, and pick you up. You let out a surprised squeak, but don’t complain, and certainly don’t break the kiss. You crash down onto the couch in a heap, entangled, with hands roaming all over each other’s bodies. 

You are both possessive and desperate. Abby’s hands massage your hips and trail up to grope your tits through the thin fabric of your tank top, her lips nibbling on your bottom one. Your pink acrylic nails are digging into her back, scratching it up so that anyone who sees it knows she belongs to you. 

“Fuckin’ brat,” Abby says against your lips before attacking your neck. You moan, tilting your head back for more and tugging at her blonde braid, nearly yanking it when she sinks her teeth into your soft skin. She groans, leaning up above you to grab your wrists and pin them to your sides. She looks down at you with red, freckled cheeks. “Tell me what you need, princess.” 

You try to buck your hips to show her, but she tuts, firmly pressing her hips down to keep you from moving. “With words, princess. Tell me what you want, or I’ll just bend you over my knee and have my way with your ass before I fuck you.” 

You swallow at the threat. Part of you wants it, but another is too impatient. “I want you to fuck me right now.” You don’t plead your words nor grow shy on her yet, but you typically never do. No, with Abby you grow incoherent for different reasons. The dumber you grow dumber the more the evokes desperation within you, not shyer. 

Abby smiles, a hint of pride within the expression. She flips you onto her lap, your legs on each side of her waist. You don’t hesitate to grind on her lap, trying to feel friction. Along with that, you suddenly feel something in her pants. You pause, and she scoffs playfully. “What? I know you, baby. I knew how this little visit was gonna end.” She simply says, guiding your hips to move against it, making you breathless. 

“W-Well, I wasn’t exactly thinking about that.” You reply back defensively, leaning down to bury your face in her neck. You purposely suck hickies all over the expanse of skin until she pries your mouth off of her like a kitten being held up by its scruff, dragging your face to hers. 

Abby kisses you to distract you from her hand dipping into the waistband of your pajama pants. When you suddenly feel two fingers teasing your clit through your panties, you jolt and let out a shaky moan into her mouth. Abby teases, rubbing circles over the slightly swollen bud. When she trails her fingers down just an inch, all she can feel is wetness. Your panties stick to your pussy, and Abby can only imagine the lewd imprint of your folds against the fabric. 

She pulls away from your lips, but not too far. “You want me to fuck you? Wanna ride my fingers, get yourself ready to be split open?” You eagerly nod against her forehead, but she only cups your pussy. “Words, princess. Say you want me to fuck you.” 

“I want you to fuck me, abs. Please.” You plead the words, hips moving against her hand to find friction. Abby is too impatient to tease you any longer, yanking your pajamas down along with your panties and sliding her fingers through your folds. You wantonly moan, stabilizing yourself by placing your palms flat on her chest so you can grind your clit against her fingers. 

Soon, you feel two fingers dip into your pussy, opening your hole up and prepping it for her cock with scissoring motions. You just helplessly take it, letting out short pants as she fucks you open. You could cum so quickly with just this, and she isn’t even trying to feel for your g-spot. 

“Who does this pussy belong to?” She asks demandingly. You gasp when she reaches down to give your clit a soft tug, rolling it between her fingers and relishing in the way you try to squirm away as if it’s too much. 

“It belongs, fuck!, it belongs to you, Abby. I’m so wet for you, abs..” You assure her, shamelessly desperate. Abby seems pleased by this answer, letting her fingers grow soaked with your juices that drip down her wrist until she flips you onto your back, making haste with unzipping her pants and taking out her cock, grasping it in her hand. You make a confused sound, reeling with her manhandling. 

“Belongs to me. Not Ellie, not some random bitch from a party, no. Just me.” She affirms this statement by letting the tip of the strap catch on your clit, pressing it upward teasingly. But her voice isn’t teasing–rather a dark, possessive tone she only uses when you have her riled up. 

Abby’s jealousy runs just as deeply as yours does, if not more. The only difference is time management. The when. When Abby isn’t in the most dominant mood and the both of you are simply making out, she will happily let you smother her skin in your lipstick stains, knowing you’re going through some possessive fit over her. She isn’t intending to go sing your name in the streets covered in red lipstick stains, but she doesn’t complain when you post pictures of the incident on your story for other people to understand that Abby is yours. 

Abby, however, doesn’t need to post the way your pussy wraps around the girth of her strap. She doesn’t tend to be as publicly explicit. But, when you rile her up, you receive what you ask for. You cannot count on your fingers the times that Abby has had you crying with the raw feeling of overstimulation because you pushed her so far with the bratty act, neither can you recall the instances of being denied orgasm after orgasm for even mentioning another woman’s name. 

So, you can’t be surprised when Abby’s girthy strap abruptly finds its way into your pussy, stretching you out, forcing more in inch by beautiful inch. You can’t be surprised by the way she forces your legs around her hips, that way she can feel connected and entangled to every inch of you. She wants you to feel her from the tips of your toes to the hairs on your head. 

Abby’s hips draw back, leaving just the artificial tip in you. Then she slams forward, burying herself to the hilt inside you. You cry out, but to no avail. 

“Bet Ellie wouldn’t fuck you like this. She couldn’t even make you cum once.” She spits, and the bitter tones in her words make your pussy wetter, easier for her to slide in and out of. She finds your clit with her fingers, harshly rubbing it but with a level of skill that leaves you already unable to take it despite not even cumming yet.

“S-So much, fuck!” You cry when you can feel her stroke your cushy insides, just where your sweet, vulnerable spot lay hidden. Her hands rest on both sides of your head, holding herself up. She starts fucking you at a relentless pace, slamming back and then into you to make your that gooey spot deep within you feel it. Nobody else gets to have you like this, and nobody gets fucked by Abby like you get to be.

“Ellie couldn’t handle you, not with the way you’re clenching around me.” Abby laughs, and she swears she can see the outline of her dick in your lower stomach when she glances down. She is in a trance watching the satisfying way the unnaturally colored dick simply gets swallowed up by your pussy. You have to glance down to see what all the fuss is about. 

Abby looks back up, leaning down to leave kisses on your collarbone. “None of those girls on instagram get fucked like this. Only mine.” 

"Abby, please. Need to cum for you, please..” You mumble in her ear, scratching up her back with your nails just to hear her breath hitch for you. Your words grow more incoherent, and you can only hope that she can understand you and give you what you're craving.

“Cum for me, princess. I wanna feel you make a mess on this couch.” Abby tells you, picking up the pace with her strokes. It only takes Abby’s possessive remarks of “mine” muttered repeatedly in your ear to get you to the finish line. You cum around the toy, walls pulsing rhythmically. 

“Fuckkk,” Abby curses when your orgasm triggers her down, and you can feel her cum dripping onto your own pussy through the harness. She buries herself as deeply inside of you as she can, and you just feel her grind into you, trying to feel more and more sensations on her clit. Abby rides out the orgasm until you feel her come back down to Earth, breathless and sweaty. Your legs squeeze around her hips, and she soon lays on top of you like a weighted blanket. 

The silence that follows the intense sex is peaceful, Abby’s weight comforting, and your hands roaming over her biceps and back in a soothing manner calming her down back to Earth. Both of you simply bask in the aftermath of the chaos, and now the old-timey show in the background is rather comforting, not as tense. 

“Next time I do something stupid that you don’t like, just tell me please.” Abby mumbles in your ear, tone softer than previously. 

“I’m sorry for freaking out, I promise.” You say, kissing her cheek. 

Abby shakes her head, nuzzling into your neck. “I don’t mind your brattiness. Just tell me forreal, though. Don’t ignore my calls.” 

You nod, squeezing her tightly. Don’t ignore calls, got it. But that doesn’t mean you can’t have an attitude over said phone call..

[littlelamy]

cowboy!rafe x farmer's!daughter!reader

a/n: cowboy!rafe x !reader inspired by rafecameroninterlude <3

the cicadas hummed in the background, their steady rhythm mingling with the soft rustling of leaves in the evening breeze. rafe's hand slid from your hip to the small of your back, his touch possessive as he held you close, the warmth of his body seeping into yours. you could feel the rough calluses on his fingers, a testament to his hard work on the ranch, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

"y/n," he murmured against your lips, his voice low and filled with a need that mirrored your own. "i can't keep sneakin' around like this. it ain't right, keepin' you a secret."

you looked up into those piercing blue eyes of his, the ones that always saw right through you, straight to your heart. "i don't care 'bout whats right, rafe. I care about you," you whispered, your voice trembling with the intensity of your feelings. "nobody gonna keep me from you."

he groaned softly, his forehead resting against yours as he struggled with the weight of your words. "you don't know what you're sayin', baby. if your daddy found out… if my old man got wind of this… they'd tear us apart."

you shook your head, the stubborn streak in you flaring up. "let 'em try. I ain't scared of 'em. you’re worth the fight, rafe. i'd go to war for you."

rafe let out a shaky breath, his hand coming up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek with a tenderness that made your heart ache. "you're somethin' else, y/n. ain’t no woman ever made me feel like this."

you leaned into his touch, feeling the world fade away until it was just the two of you, standing at the edge of everything. you felt his breath hitch as you pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, then another, your lips trailing down to his jaw, tasting the salt of his skin.

he pulled you tighter against him, his hand sliding up your back, fingers tangling in your hair as he tilted your head to capture your lips once more. this kiss was different—slower, deeper—like he was trying to memorize the feel of you, the way you fit so perfectly against him.

his other hand slipped down to your thigh, lifting you slightly as he backed you up against the rough bark of the oak tree. the sensation of the hard wood against your back and the solid strength of rafe’s body against your front was dizzying, intoxicating. you let out a soft moan as his lips moved to your neck, trailing hot kisses along your skin, making you arch into him, desperate for more.

"rafe…" you breathed, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you lost yourself in the moment, in the heat that surged between you. the world outside ceased to exist—there was only the two of you, tangled up in each other, driven by a desire that neither of you could resist.

his lips found yours again, and this time the kiss was fierce, almost desperate, as if he was trying to convey all the things words couldn't. you matched his intensity, your heart pounding in your chest, the thrill of the forbidden making your blood run hot.

"baby," he whispers, his voice rough with emotion, "i ain't ever lettin' you go. they can say what they want, but this… this is real."

you nodded, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as you held him close, your bodies pressed together as if you could somehow fuse yourselves into one. "we’ll find a way," you promised, your voice barely more than a whisper. "we’ll make it work, rafe. i’ll follow you anywhere."

he smiled against your lips, that familiar smirk that never failed to make your heart skip a beat. "damn right you will, darlin'. we got somethin' worth fightin' for."

and as the night deepened around you, the stars twinkling above like a million silent witnesses to your love, you knew that no matter what came next, you and rafe would face it together. because in this moment, with his arms around you and his heart beating in time with yours, nothing else mattered.

[2knightt]

Do you think u could write abt the gang being (separately) absolutely obsessed with the reader. Like they adore everything she does, they can’t get enough of her. To the point where the rest of the gang starts releasing them abt it, meanwhile reader is like completely oblivious lol

୧ ׅ𖥔 ۫ heaven and hell were words to me.⋄ 𓍯

…IN WHICH! the greasers are totally obsessed!

tags/warnings: no confessions—just the gang having a crush, gang being literally whipped, them being a little odd, kinda toxic!johnny LFMAO, nothing else to my knowledge

ೃauthor notes⁀➷ i’m just working…working hard so i can please you.(shout out to ema/corvyes/loml for that ref.) but if i get a req asking me for like the gng confessing to you—i will do it. trust.

Dallas Winston

WHEN HE’S DRUNK, YOU’RE ALLLL HE TALKS ABOUT LMFAOOOO

“i’m tellin’ you—there ain’t a girl like her.”

dallas would repeat after what felt like this 5th drink of the night. buck is sick of him, two-bit regrets dragging him along, and dallas just wants to tell them how good you looked today.

when he sees you walking home, to school, or to work he WILL tag along. HE DOESN’T GAF IF YOU TELL HIM TO TAKE A HIKE!

actually, he kinda does. you’re like the only person he listens to.

LMFAOOO THE GANG THREATENS TO CALL YOU OVER WHENEVER DALLAS IS DOING SMTH STUPID

like whenever you threaten a kid ur gna tell santa.

“dallas, i’m gonna tell y/n what you did last week.”

“??if you do, i’ll beat your head in, soda.”

“YIKES..i’m gonna have to tell her that too…”

“…don’t, she’d be so mad at me😔😒.”

THE GANG TEASES DALLAS THE WORST(besides ponyboy) ABOUT YOU LFNAOAOAOAO

like they’re shoving him toward you, nudging him at even the slightest mention of you, giggling as they tell him they seen you today.

“look, it’s your girlfriend.”

“steve, shut up! she ain’t deaf!”

—

“GO SEE HER!”

“OW—i mean—hi, y/n.”

“did you…trip? or did you mean to bump into me?”

“yeah, sorry or whatever. some IDIOT back there pushed me.”

—

“guess who i saw..🥰🥰”

“who?”

“your wife…”

“can you NOT.”

despite all that, you somehow, still don’t know how he feels about you. how? we’ll never know. it’s beyond the human mind.

his friends try and hint at you that the big, bad greaser has a school girl crush on you. do you get what they’re trying to say? no. but that’s okay, you’re just a girl.

lowkey pisses dallas off but that’s okay cuz he prefers admiring from afar. DOES HOWEVER ASK YOU TO HANG OUT AND CONSIDERS THEM A DATE IN HIS HEAD TO KEEP HIM SANE LFMAO

“you wanna go see this drag race tomorrow?”

“sure! i don’t have work then. uhm, pick me up at my place!”

“alright, cool.”

‘yeah..,it’s date🥱😍’ — dallas’ brain.

Johnny Cade

‘johnny, if you even fucking stutter when you talk to her today—you’re gonna have to drink pickle juice.’

“oh, hi. i didn’t see you there, johnny. ‘m sorry.”

“o-oh—it’s alright.”

‘well, shit.”

he thinks he looks like such a fucking loser when he talks to you omfg😭😭

the gang tries to tell him he might have a shot but he thinks they’re just telling him that because he’s their friend. :(

HEAVILY admires from afar. like seriously he’s a fucking stalker

WAIT LMFOAOO HE’D BE THE TYPE OF GUY TO ACCIDENTALLY STALK YOU LIKE HE’D FOLLOW YOU PLACES FROM AFAR LMFAOAOAOOAOA

what a little freak

anyways

he accidentally lets things slip to let you know he’s better than any other guy trying to go after you. like if you had a shitty ex—he’s preaching that he’d ‘never treat you like that, he can’t imagine that a guy with a brain ever would.’

johnny does everything to keep your attention on HIM and nobody else when your friends try and talk to you when you two are out together. like you could be having a conversation with him and he’d be just pouting in the background with his arms crossed.

“y/n, look. they got that shirt you was talkin’ ‘bout. let’s go check it out. c’mon.” “oh—alright! bye, viv!😊” “yeah, bye viv.😒”

side eyes the gang whenever they bring you up in conversation

“johnny and y/n sittin’ in a tree—“

“😒🤨”

“alright.”

he tries to subtly hint that he really likes you and that you’re his type but it’s not subtle at ALL.

“y’know, if i were to have a girlfriend, i’d wish she was like you.”

—

“my type? uhm, it’d probably be someone-“ and he goes on to describe you.

Ponyboy Curtis

‘holy fuck that’s literally y/n walking towards me??!! does she know i’m here—does she even know me-wow she looks good in red. i mean—SHE’S WAVING OH MY GOD.’

HE IS SUCH A WRECK I CANTTT

ponyboy is the type to stare off into space in your direction and dream about how well he’d treat you if he was your man!!

yk how bitches be like ‘my man, my man!’ whenever they talk about their crush?? he’s all ‘my girl, my girl!’ WUAGRMRNEE

the gang was so confused on why he was so eager to go to school all of a sudden?? and why he cares about his appearance just slightly more than usual?? …is that soda’s shirt he’s wearing?-

two-bit was the first one to realize what was happening when he seen ponyboy and you talk in the halls. that wasn’t the giveaway, though.

it was the way he stared at you like you were the only girl alive and everyone else was just gone. two-bit was almost moved to tears to see ponyboy all grown😞😞!!!

“is tha’ your girlfriend? that why you couldn’t wait ‘til monday?”

“shut up!”

“ouuu, wait until the gang hears ‘bout this!”

“YOU AIN’T TELLIN’ ‘EM NOTHIN’!”

ever since — it has been hell on earth for ponyboy. dallas brings you up every time ponyboy gets smart, johnny giggles at every kissing scene at a movie nudges him, soda and darry had to give him ‘the talk,’ (soda just made it worse by making snide remarks.) and steve never stopped poking fun at him.

two-bit tried to get you to spill the beans on how you felt about him, but all you’d do was huff and ignore him. FINE THEN😒!—is what he always thought.

soda, johnny and two-bit all let ponyboy rant about you.

“LIKE, BRO. my girl, my girl! she’s so cute and smart. LIKE SHE’S TOTALLY MY DREAM.”

—

“that’s so cute ☹️” - soda

“SHE WANTS YOU SOO BAD” - two-bit

“just go tell her, man.” - johnny

does everything to impress you stoppp 😭😭!! pony is trying harder in school, using less hair grease, wearing darry’s cheap cologne when he’s not looking, etc.

HE’S SO SILLY I LOVE HIM!!!

Sodapop Curtis

delusional king!!! yes soda, let the voices in your head tell you that she wants you so bad!!🫶🫶

swear to goddd he thinks y’all are meant to be. you tipped him when he was working at the cash register and he was sooo in love

sorry in my head he’s a hopeless romantic

cause a) you were gorgeous, b) kind enough to tip him, and c) most likely rich💯💯

when he seen you at random places with your friends—soda would get so excited LMFAOOO

STOP HE’D HOUND PONY FOR YOUR NAME

“bro they probably go to your school—just lemme look at your yearbook!”

“no??? you weirdo???”

“please??!! i’ll do the dishes or something!”

“….get me a pack of cigarettes and i’ll tell you.”

“OKAY🥰🥰”

stole them but pony never said how to get them so who gaf!!!

SODA WOULD TOTALLY WRITE YOUR FIRST INITAL + HIS LMFAOOAOAOAOAA

or he’d see who’s last name went best with curtis or your last name!!!1!1!1

he’s crazy insane over you did i say that already

whenever you come by the dx—he’d give you shit for free while you insist to pay.

“jus’ take it.”

“i can’t—i’d feel terrible.”

“it’s alright, no one has to know. right?”

he’d flash his million dollar smile, pushing your coke and chips close to you, inciting you to just take the food.

WAJENEDKD he wants u so bad it’s. so terrible.

steve hates his rambles

“YOU SHOULDA SEEN THE WAY ME AND HER WAS TALKING—SHE’S SO INTO MEEEE”

“yeah, she wants you!!! shut up now!!”

Darry Curtis

nobody knows. it’s like a top secret only darry knows. the gang has their suspicions but they can never really know why darry is suddenly so adamant on going to go get him, soda, and pony’s hair done at the salon.

they alllll can see that he only really talks to you—but at the same time he does that weird ass dad stance where they stand with their arms crossed and legs far apart LMFAOOOOO

darry thinks you’re like…model fine btw.!!!!!

BROOO WHEN YOU LIKE UNCONSCIOUSLY MASSAGE HIS HEAD WHEN YOURE CUTTING IT—HE’S SOO READY TO JUST ASK YOU OUT

darry doesn’t know what it is but goddamn!! you have him in a spell!!

“c’mon—we gotta go to the salon again.”

“….we just went?”

“TWO WEEKS AGO. it’s about time we go AGAIN.”

does in fact work a little extra just so he can see you. he’s that much of a loverboy i fear.

HE DOES ACTUALLY NOT WAIT TO ASK YOU OUT

like, among all the gang, he’s the only one mature enough to actually flirt with you properly & to ask if you’re single.

darry’s fucking down like that.

AWWHHH HE TOTALLY BUYS YOU FLOWERS AS A ‘THANK YOU’ GIFT LOL

flexs his strength around you to prove he’s worthy !!! DARRY LOVEEESSS SHOWING OFF WHEN YOU’RE LOOKING

megara + hercules methink…..

you two probably started hanging out as ‘friends.’ …yeah right!!!!

he’s driving you around as you be his pretty little passenger princess, he’s offering to buy you things when you two are out, etc, etc.

darry might not know how to show that he likes you, but trust me, the second that you look a little too far into his actions—it gets obvious.

like maybe too obvious idk.

Steve Randle

HELLLOOOO??? HE IS TOTALLY SHOWING OFF HIS GYMNASTICS MOVES AROUND YOU

“bro, bro! (yes he’d call you bro. idgaf.) watch what i can do!!😊😊” “wowwww, steve that’s so cool.”

geeks out near you. when you aren’t around the average person would see him and go ‘jesus christ, he literally might beat my ass.’ but when you’re around, they might think, ‘why is that scary looking guy talking about cars and comic books rn??’

you bring out the nerd in him in the best way possible🫶😊 BECAUSE THAT MEANS HE LIKE LIKES YOUUUUUUU

and it’s so obvious to the gang bc wdym steve told you all about DC comics while all they got was a ‘yeah, it’s alright.’ …hm…..

soda NEVER shuts the fuck up and him and his little girlfriend. NEVERRREE

“why’re you so pouty today? y/n ain’t say hi?”

“bro, shut up!”

steals for you and gives them to you all proud like he paid for it LMFAO

tries to be sooo cool around you but the second you bring up the latest batman comic he’s all “OMGOMGOMGOMG IT WAS SOO GOOD!! DID YOU SEE THE-“ he’s a loser what can i say.

dallas totally flirts with you in front of steve just to piss him off LOLLL like when he sees dallas twirling your hair around his finger steve is just all “???🤨🤨😡😡”

and then becomes your knight in shining armour and swoops you away as he glares daggers at dally!!!!<3

Two-bit Mathews

he becomes the funniest man on the planet i’m not joking

he says jokes that anybody and everybody will laugh at. just because he wants to see you laugh at what he says for his delusions

two-bit thinks like ‘she laugh=she likes me’

he’s not the brightest but it’s okay

HE MAKES IT SOOO KNOWN THAT HE LIKES YOU LFMAOOOOOO

“you’re lookin’ pretty? who’s the fella?” / “gee, i didn’t believe when they said they seen an angel walkin’ around until now.” / “well, now you owe me dinner.”

shit like that

two thinks he’s soooo smooth…smh.

DALLAS AND PONYBOY SO BADLY WANTS HIM SHUT THE HELL UP ALREADY ABOUT YOU LMFAOOO

they keep on telling him just to confess already but then two gets all giggly and shy and goes “omg guys noooo🤭🤭🤭🫣🫣”

just coincidentally runs into you everywhere you go!!! (literally has eyes everywhere. he’s weird. he’s odd.)

follows you around like a lost puppy and lowkey kinda gossips. idk.

[heich0e]

"we're having a costume party at school next week!"

sukuna's only acknowledgement of his nephew's words is that half hum/half grunt sound he makes so often—the one that always seems mostly involuntary and entirely disinterested. to the uninitiated, it might come across as dismissive, but thankfully, having spent his entire life around his uncle, yuuji's fluent enough in his unspoken language to interpret the meaning behind the man's sounds without needing him to elaborate.

"yup!" he continues. "will jichan help me pick my costume?" 

sukuna looks over at his nephew, finally tearing his eyes away from the screen of his phone. 

"me?" he asks with a quirk of his brow. 

yuuji is on the other side of the low table at the centre of the living room, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet in excitement with his two little hands pressed against the table top where his colouring pages and markers sit abandoned.

"yeah! i gotta pick a good one." yuuji nods enthusiastically. 

sukuna breathes a short breath out through his nose, but yuuji understands that, too—the sound of his beloved uncle conceding, if not outright agreement to his demands. 

"well i'm not paying for any costume, so your dad better be ready to cough up some cash," sukuna says, slumping back against the sofa behind him and stretching his sock-clad feet out under the kotatsu. "what are your ideas so far?" 

"dunno!" yuuji comes bounding around to his side of the table, clambering into his uncle's lap and settling in there. 

"why don't you just dress up like a tiger cub again?" sukuna asks, shifting to accommodate the squirming brat now trying to make himself comfortable atop him. 

yuuji purses his lips like he's thinking about it. "papa said so too."

yuuji's dressed up like a tiger cub almost every year since he was born (sukuna has many, many photos on his phone to prove it.) it's tried and true. both itadori brothers are decidedly weak to the little boy dressed with fluffy ears and a little tail. it must be genetic. 

"but kugisaki said she's dressing up like a cat, so nobody else is allowed to," yuuji adds after a moment of contemplation. 

sukuna's met yuuji's school friend kugisaki nobara once or twice when picking his nephew up from school, or dropping him off at play dates on the weekend. the kid's a tyrant. 

"off limits then," sukuna says—a bit resentfully, since he won't have another series of photos to add to his phone camera's gallery this year. "so what else?" 

"hmmmm," yuuji holds his little chin in his hand as though deep in thought. "what about a ghost?"

"boring," sukuna replies immediately. 

"a dog?"

"that's too close to a cat," the man shoots that down just as quickly as the first one. “your bossy little friend won’t like that.”

yuuji nods sagely in agreement and then tries again.  “how ‘bout a police officer?" 

"cops are losers, brat," sukuna says, suddenly stern. he points at him to add emphasis. "they're not your friends and we don't trust 'em."

yuuji's lips form a little 'o'.

"papa says—"

"your dad's a square, don't listen to him," sukuns lifts the hand that had been pointing at his nephew’s chest and flicks him lightly on the forehead. he yelps in complaint.

"if the police is bad then who do i call if i'm in trouble?" yuuji asks through a pout, rubbing the spot between his brows his uncle had just hit.

"me, obviously," the older man answers without missing a beat.

"oh," yuuji says, his expression evening out again as he acceptis this answer simply. “’kay!"

“so what else is there?” sukuna rubs his chin thoughtfully as he reflects on yuujii’s options. kids’ costumes are—decidedly—not really his area of expertise. in fact, the images that come to mind when he thinks of costumes should really not even be mentioned in the same sentence as children.

“i gotta be something cool,” yuuji insists, watching his uncle think. 

“yeah, yeah,” sukuna grunts. “what about somethin’ scary?” 

yuuji shrinks into himself a little. “i don’t like scary stuff.”

 “don’t be a wimp,” sukuna teases him, but he holds the kid a little tighter and doesn’t bring it up again. there’s a black marker on the living room floor by his thigh, with the word WASHABLE printed in thick block letters along the side. sukuna picks it up, tapping it against the ground as he contemplates his options while his nephew does the same. 

tap, tap, tap.

“what about a pumpkin?” 

“lame. what about a demon?”

“demons are scary, jicha—“

“yeah, yeah.” 

sukuna tosses his head back to rest against the sofa cushions, an arm slung across his eyes. 

when he opens them again, inspecting his own forearm, he suddenly has an idea.

(when jin comes home from work, he finds his little brother and his son shirtless in the living room—one inked in tattoos, and one sporting a crude approximation of the same tattoos scrawled in washable marker. jin freezes in confusion at the sight. 

“papa, i’m jichan!” yuuji beams proudly up at his father, arms outstretched in display. jin’s eyes turn next to his brother, who’s looking particularly smug.

“kid said he wanted a cool costume,” he shrugs. 

yuuji goes as a tiger cub again that year.)

[morgluvsconnie]

BOUND, c.springer

chap.2 | drinking, smoking, mild controlling | chap.1

“girllll. if youn get over him.”

sasha blurted out with a huff. mikasa was sitting on the other side of you, sipping her drink and shaking her head at sasha.

“nobody can get over somebody they actually liked that easy. ion know why you liked him anyway i mean… he’s… ugly.” she rested her elbow on the counter.

“he’s reiner, of course he ugly.” sasha took her shot before waving over the bouncer.

“you talk too damn much.” mikasa pointed at sasha, making her hold her hand up in defense before paying for her next drink. then she looked at you. “look, just go find somebody else. like…” she looked around the club.

“his homeboy.” sasha raised her eyebrows with a grin.

you smiled with an idea but shook your head. “ian that dirty.” you reapplied your lipgloss with a small mirror, rubbing your lips together.

“shit you better than me…”

“sasha.” mikasa shook her head and rolled her eyes. “just go out and find somebody-”

“you got his name covered up?” sasha smiled and grabbed your arm. “for real?” mikasa raised her brows while sipping her drink, looking at your arm. right beneath your elbow was two roses with details around them.

“oh yeah.” you looked at your arm and tilted your head.

“ion even remember who did it. or when it happened. at all.” you lightly laughed.

“girl what the hell was you doin last week?” mikasa frowned.

“told reiner to drop me off, ain’t even go to my house and all i remember is walking to the shop.” you shook your head. as the bouncer passed by, you waved at him.

“three shots.”

“of?”

“your choice.” you smiled.

he nodded. “i’ll be right back.”

that’s when you felt someone put their arm across your shoulder. “long time no see.” someone said in your ear. never thought you’d hear that voice again.

“reiner, what you want?” you squinted and shook your head.

“i can’t be nice?” he frowned, tapping your shoulder a little.

“she obviously don’t wanna talk to you.” sasha raised her eyebrow, turning towards you two. reiner glanced at sasha, then mikasa, who was giving him the same look.

“let’s just… talk alone.” he stood back a little. “please.”

you slowly inhaled, held it, and then exhaled. when the bouncer handed you your shots, you downed two, paused, then took the last one.

“okay.” you tapped the counter with the cup, signaling sasha and mikasa to keep your watch, them clearing their throats as an okay.

you hopped off the counter and let his lead you to a corner of the club. “so you got my name covered up.” he scoffed and stuffed his hands in his pockets. you stared up at him with bored eyes. “what you really want?”

“to see why you ain’t been answering my messages. or calls. tryna see why you act like youn know nobody.” he tilted his head at you.

you crossed your arms while continuing to stare at him. “did that other woman know you had a girlfriend when she was feelin on you?” you tilted your head back at him.

“you act like that was cheating. it wasn’t. you just bein dramatic at this point.”

“oh, outta all the dumb shit you done said, that’s the worst.”

“i’m tryna make things right and you bein stubborn. you wonder why we can’t talk things out.” reiner looked to the side in annoyance.

“maybe ion wanna talk things out because there’s nothing to talk out. cheating ain’t justified so ain’t no reason in wasting yo breath tryna make me forgive you.” you shrugged, arms still crossed.

one thing you’d never do is give in to somebody asking for forgiveness for something they knew was wrong. and when is cheating an accident? reiners rarely drunk, and you don’t have a twin sister.

“maybe you just insecure. her rubbing on my arm isn’t justified as cheating.”

you paused for a moment, processing what dumb shit he said to you this time.

“insecure?” you scoffed and shook your head, looking around as if there was a crowd watching this act. and he was the damn clown.

“man, lemme tell you sum. you’ll never catch me bein insecure about myself bout another bitch. i promise. another thing, ion wanna talk nothing out with you because ain’t shit to talk about. now you can sit here and lie to yo damn self if you want to, but at the end of the day, no is no. ion wanna be wit you. ion wanna talk to you. we done. stop texting me and stop calling me, i won’t answer. point blank.” you looked him in his eyes to let him know you were dead serious about everything you just said.

for him to even assume you’re insecure of another bitch. crazy work. you never showed a sign of it, you never even showed jealousy, so how the fuck could you be labeled as insecure?

all because you didn’t wanna forgive him for something he did— something he caused. crazy work.

you felt yourself getting drunker by the second, so you had no choice but to go back to where sasha and mikasa was.

“can we-“

“finallyyy. how’d the talk go?” sasha questioned as soon as you made it back. “a buncha bullshit.” you pursed your lips together and glanced around.

“girl-“ mikasa started before her phone dinged. “oh. eren want us to come over there.” she smiled at her phone.

sasha fake gagged. “you one simp ass girl.” she raised her lip in a disgusted way.

“oh but when it’s about niccolo…” mikasa tilted her head. “alright.” sasha rolled her eyes playfully and hopped off the stool.

the three of you made your way over to where the rest of the group was. “what i was sayin, reiner don’t know what the hell he be talkin bout half of the time. so… to be honest, block him. and move on to the next. mikasa shrugged while making her way through the crowd.

“i’m not finna be worried bout his ass nomo. ion got time.” you mumbled as she finally found where the rest of the group was.

you didn’t really hang around the rest of the group, other than eren and armin. since two groups came together to make one, and you were originally apart of eren, mikasa, and armin. you didn’t really know the rest.

“hey.” you spoke to everyone with a friendly wave.

so awkward of you.

everybody spoke back. mikasa sat beside eren who put his arm around her. sasha sat by jean, who started picking with her at soon as she touched the couch.

you looked around for somewhere to sit, but the groups so damn big, there wasn’t even really space for you.

that’s when you saw someone slide over and glance at you while rolling a blunt. he looked so familiar, but you couldn’t get the picture on who he was in your head.

that buzzcut. and the ear piercing that you didn’t even notice until now.

whatever.

you sat between him and someone else. ony, yeah, that’s his name. or his nickname. “thank you.” you mumbled, putting your hands in your lap and rubbing your lipgloss in, having nothing else to do or talk about.

“you good.”

his voice was so familiar.

“i get so tired of y’all mu’fuckas. i mean every day y’all be hugged up. don’t nobody wanna see that shit.” jean squinted at mikasa and eren.

“shut the fuck up you just mad don’t nobody want yo ass.” eren held his finger up at jean. everybody laughed and jean smacked his lips. “man connie where my blunt? befo i do sum to all these rats.” jean frowned and leaned back.

connie…

connie…?

“where my money?” connie glanced up at jean, dabbing the blunt with his tongue.

“yeen even ask for it!”

“what you asked me before?” connie glanced up again, flicking his lighter.

“where my blunt man.” jean groaned.

“yeen even ask for it.” connie put the blunt to his lips, lighting it, while sitting the weed tray on the table.

connie…

that name repeated in your mind for about three whole minutes, you getting lost in space tryna remember where the hell you know him from.

while those three minutes passed, the whole group talked, connie scrolling on his phone. he glanced at you for a second before taking the blunt from his lips.

“wanna hit?” he exhaled.

you snapped out of your daydreaming and looked up at him for a few seconds. the stare held as you examined his face, too drunk to realize you were even staring. “mhm.” you nodded.

he was tryna pass you the blunt, but you being wasted, didn’t even realize it. you just kept looking at his face.

and his tattoos.

that’s when he put his phone down and held the blunt to where you could hit it from his hand.

you closed your eyes and inhaled deeply, holding it for a minute before exhaling. all while looking in his eyes.

“you like that?” he slowly started to smile, looking at your lips as you smiled you nodded.

“you want it?” he bit his lip. you nodded again, grabbing the blunt and hitting it again.

good shit.

you almost forgot all about the name.

oh, the name.

“that tattoo look good. who did it?” armin leaned up to see your tattoo more.

“connie.” you answered mindlessly. you didn’t even know what you were talking about at this point.

connie looked at you and laughed a little.

chap.3

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 1 - Where Winning Looks Like Losing

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: This is story non-canon compliant, with the two main differences being; 1) Butcher doesn't have brain cancer, because I said so. 2) All of Gen V didn't take place, because I don't want to deal with the whole supe-plauge thing. Also that's too many characters to keep track of squad. Because of this, the story will start in a similar setting as s4e5, but with different events leading up to it, and will deal with similar themes and have similar events to the rest of s4, but at an inconsistent rate. If you have any questions about other, smaller changes I have made, feel free to ask! Enjoy!

Word Count: 4k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: See the Masterlist for Summary. Contains usual tags.

Chapter title is from Growing Up by Fall Out Boy.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff.

Read on A03!

Chapter 2

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

You were not, and never had been, in the business of fighting your wars bloody. You fought them smart, and you fought them dirty. You wouldn’t call yourself callous; if anything, you could use a little more misanthropy in your life, but your moral compass was… subjective. You would steal bread to feed your family, you would cheat if you knew you wouldn’t get caught, and, as you had spent the last six months learning, you would quickly cover your hands in all the blood and grime in the world so that nobody else would have to.

Which was, unfortunately, not a figure of speech.

You let yourself lie in the mud, the cool texture soothing your always-warm skin, and fought the urge to sleep. You could hear someone shouting your name, strung together with an impressive array of obscenities and barely audible over whatever phase of the argument your companions were on, but god, you just could not bring yourself to give a fuck. Sure, the blood on your face was already dry, and the hay mixed into the mud itched and needled at your skin, but you’d live. You’d survived much worse, and at this point it was scientifically impossible for you to get sick, so everyone could just come back for you in a week or two. Maybe three. However long it took for the nightmare sheep to die and Vought’s stock prices to be lower in the mud than where you lay. Maybe a bit longer. Maybe until Homelander wasn’t a you problem anymore. Maybe they’d feed his corpse to the nightmare sheep when they came to get you.

You felt yourself smile a little at that thought. Dead Homelander, weak and pathetic; golden hair grimy; awful blue eyes milky and hollow. Dead Homelander, hands unable to hurt you, mouth unable to twist into that horrific smile. Dead Homelander, pretty face mauled and stupid outfit smelling like shit from being dragged in it to the barn. Dead Homelander, being torn to tiny pieces and eaten by sheep. Dead Homelander, the worst thing that ever happened to you, finishing his reign of terror shat out next to a creek somewhere.

Your smile covered your whole face at this point. It probably looked weird and creepy—the dire, life-or-death situation you were smack dab in the middle of not doing it any favors—but god, it was too perfect a daydream. You could live here forever, in the mud, with your fucked-up little fantasy on loop.

Tragically, you barely had twenty seconds in this ideal world when something hit you in the face.

“What the fuck?!" You sat up, ignoring the hand offering aid from Frenchie, glaring around the barn for your assailant.

“Bout time you join the land of the living, Love. We’ve got a fucking problem, and you don’t get to nap until it’s fixed.” Across the barn, Billy Butcher shot you a cocky grin that didn’t meet his eyes. To be fair, you weren’t sure it ever did.

“You didn’t have to hit me in the face, you ass.”

“That was me,” Frenchie cut in. “And you should thank me; Monsieur Butcher was going to shoot you.”

“You were going to shoot me?!”

“Would’ve felt the same either way, wouldn’t it?” Butcher shrugged.

“No! I’m not bulletproof, you dick!”

“You’d live.”

“So would MM if you shot him! I don’t see you gearing up for that!”

“Well, MM wasn’t sleeping in the middle of a crisis!”

You rolled your eyes, meeting Butcher’s glare from across the room. "Oh, please, you just wanted an excuse to try and kill me!”

“If I wanted to kill you, Sweetheart, it’d look more like this.” Butcher’s arms started to move behind him, where you knew he kept his gun, and you braced yourself, hands fisted at your side.

“Hey!” MM stepped forward, arms raised. “You, if you shoot anyone, I will throw you out to the sheep, I swear to God. And you,” he turned his gaze from Butcher, “turn it down; it’s the middle of winter in Maine, and I feel like I’m standing in the goddamn sun.”

You blinked, realizing that the room had rapidly become impossibly hot, and everyone had moved far as possible from where you stood. The new, alien feeling that sat under your skin was alight and sharp, almost buzzing through you.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, stepping back. MM lowered his arms, a look of what might have been concern flashing across his face, but turned away as the conversation returned to the murder-sheep issue.

You took a few steps back; nobody stopping you or asking for your contribution, fully allowing you to shrink into the wall. You felt your hand move up to your throat, trying to slow the tense, short breaths passing in and out of your body.

“Try thinking of something that calmed you down before.”

You jumped, not having noticed Victoria Neuman move to your side, and gave her a small frown as you responded. “What?”

“Something familiar. Anything that takes the edge off. Trust me,” she gave you a tight-lipped smile. “I’ve been dealing with this my whole life. It won’t get easier on its own. And that,“ she gestured to your hand. “Won’t help it long-term.”

You nodded slowly, forcing yourself to drag your hand from your throat. Something happy. Something happy from before. What had been happy before?

Briefly, city lights flashed in your head, a song on a stereo accompanied by your own hum ringing silently in your ears. It vanished just as fast, but something in your chest loosened, and the feeling waned. Glancing over at Neuman, you saw a small nod of approval before she left your side, allowing you a second to steel yourself before following.

You found yourself standing next to Annie, who gave you a quick and, as far as you could tell, genuine smile before returning her attention to the tense conversation between Butcher and Stan Edgar. The former's voice had grown to a shout, somewhat ranting about a goose-chase for the bioweapon supposedly on this farm, the latter just watching with a cold, indifferent gaze.

“Are you done, Mr. Butcher?” Edgar’s voice betrayed no anger or fear; the only signs of emotion on his face his tightened lips and raised brows. “Because if you are, I would finally be able to share my plan to get us out of this hellhole you dug us.”

Butcher scoffed, but before he could call Edgar either a cunt or a twat—both seemed equally plausible at the moment—the stone-faced man continued.

“While I will be the first to admit that an error was made in regards to a possible weapon against Homelander, I could not call today a complete waste. After all, you introduced me to this… charming young woman. The Anomaly,” he turned to you, and a shiver ran up your spine as he used your supe name. “Is going to help us.”

“Uh,” you paled under the pressing eyes of your team. “No. I don’t, uh, I… no.”

“Yes. You will,” Edgar said. “The V variant you carry is Homelander’s attempt to duplicate the original, the one used on Soldier Boy. Most likely a good attempt. And though the original V was unstable and less than suitable in any practical means, it was potent. I do not think I would be wrong in guessing you are just as strong as Soldier Boy, and likely immortal as well.”

“No.” Annie cut it in. “If you’re going to suggest we use her as fucking bait, the answer is no.”

“I was not going to suggest that, Ms. January, why would I waste such a good product on sheep bait? I am proposing that she simply eliminate our issue. I hear sheep catch fire quite easily.”

Everyone was looking at you now. Waiting for you to step forward and say something, anything. But you were frozen, mouth slightly agape, a million scenarios playing out in your head. You saying yes, and failing to do anything but start a forest fire, the barn burning around you as everyone remained trapped inside. You saying no, and the sheep breaking in and eating everyone alive. You saying yes, but losing control and hitting someone, watching them burn to ash as they screamed. You saying no, and everyone just rotting away in the barn; you yourself unable to do the same. The silence hung in the room, taunt with the way breathing had become labored in your chest, and you thanked a god you didn’t believe in as Annie stepped forward.

“She can’t control it,” she told Edgar. “We’ve been working on it for months, and she’s gotten better, but she can’t. It’s more complicated than it usually is, and it’s new.”

“Well, then I guess we should start to pray she gets lucky. I simply will not die in a barn in Maine, and unless anyone else has a plan, I must insist we start moving. Before the structural integrity fails us, and we all become dinner.”

The room was quiet for another moment, Annie looking as if she wanted to argue, but MM spoke first, his voice laced with reluctance.

“He’s right. We don’t have time to come up with something better.” He sighed, turning to you. “You’re the best bet we’ve got.”

“Still a shit bet,” Butcher muttered.

You agreed.

But Edgar was right.

“Everyone will need to stay inside,” you said softly. “Even if it works, this could get… messy.”

Murmurs of agreement were made, and you turned to Kimiko. “You’re the strongest,” you told her. “You can open and close the door the fastest. Crack it open, I’ll run through, and slam it as fast as you fucking can.”

She nodded, moving to the barn's entrance. As she passed you, she paused, giving your arm a small squeeze and you a small smile before she continued. You smiled back, trying to ignore the flash of her anxiety running through you at the touch. Everyone else began to move to the opposite side, hiding pointlessly behind hay and barrels. Neuman paused, though, looking at you with an unreadable expression.

“Something calm,” was all she said before turning to follow Edgar.

Something calm.

City lights. Music. Cheap burgers and cheaper beer. Carefree smiles. Music.

You stood before the doors, giving Kimiko a small thumbs up. She raised her hand, fingers falling from five to four, from four to three.

Two.

One.

You sprinted forward, waited for the sound of a slam behind you, and let go.

The world lit up.

It felt like a hurricane was spilling out of you, like a part of you was being ripped out and launched away. You could see the fire, but not quite feel it. If anything a chill had set itself through your veins, your skin becoming flushed not from heat, but exhaustion. Already darkness was creeping into your eyes, the effort to control the flames splitting the sky taking a toll. It was like a volcano trying to control its eruption, if any of its magma was under the control of the mountain.

But you had to. You could pass out after; you could sleep for a hundred years, but right now you had to control it.

The blood and muck on your skin had been long seared off, the clothes on your back turning into foul-smelling smoke. Your job was long finished now, nothing but bone and sinew remaining of the sheep, but a new problem emerged.

You couldn’t stop. You were burning and burning and burning, and the feeling in your skin wasn’t dulling, but growing. The exhaustion was gone, replaced by pure adrenaline, yanking you up and up, away from relief.

Something calm, Neuman’s voice echoed in your head, and you closed your eyes, trying to hear that long-gone music and see those phantom lights.

It wasn’t working. And you were only getting closer to an edge, a drop into something you’d been so careful to avoid. It was eating you, pushing you further and further. You'd jump into the freezing water of the river but it would just evaporate. You’d bury yourself in the mud but it would just boil, feeding into itself.

Sing, a small part of you begged the rest. Just sing. No use hiding yourself if you’re dead.

You gave in, and began to hum. An empty tune, your voice on key but strained. Slowly, you felt yourself come to, your body returning to your control. You followed the song to the end, and as it ended, just before you collapsed on the ground, relief rushed through you. The fire had lingered, a saving grace from your song. You hadn’t felt any effects, with no hallucinations plaguing your vision before it went dark.

————

The first thing you realized when you woke up was that someone had moved you from the dirt to rest against a tree. The second was that you were no longer naked. Someone had apparently managed to find you clothes, and though they were itchy and a few sizes too big, you were still grateful. The third was that you smelled like shit. You had thought you were covered in blood before, but that now seemed as if it had been bubbles and floral perfume. One might have thought thoroughly barbecued sheep would’ve smelled at least tolerable. They would’ve been wrong. Because you were covered in what of it hadn’t dissipated into smoke, and you smelled like a dumpster full of rubber and fish.

The only person who would come near you was Frenchie, who had forsaken his sense of smell years ago, and had evidently dressed you and pulled you to where you currently sat. Everyone else stood closer to the fence, waiting for their ride back to New York to pull up on the dirt road. You sat alone, eyes still drooping, startled out of your own head as Edgar’s voice cut through the air.

“I must say, I am glad to see my faith in you was not misplaced.”

"Yeah, well,” you shrugged, looking up at where he stood, only a few feet away. “I wouldn’t ask for an encore.”

“I am afraid I may have to. In our prior introduction, it seems you deeply undersold your capabilities.”

“Forgive me, I didn’t have time for self-evaluation when I was being kept in a fucking dungeon.”

Edgar sighed. “I must apologize for that. Though I was not made aware of Homelander’s little escapade, I recognize that you might feel as though I hold some blame.”

“Not an apology,” you muttered. “And I find that hard to believe.”

“Unfortunate, but I cannot force you to accept the truth.” He looked you up and down once before continuing. “And regardless, it is not what I am here to say.”

“I was wrong only once today, and it was when I said you were just as strong as Soldier Boy. You are not. You are much, much stronger. Not physically, of course, but overall. Overall, your power surpasses Soldier Boy’s, surpasses Homelander’s. I know you wish him dead, I would imagine you prefer it to be painful, and very few deaths inflict the suffering felt when one is burned alive. I suggest you learn how to control your gift, and learn fast. You were looking for a weapon, and I am telling you that you are it. Do not waste yourself.”

And he walked away, leaving your mouth open and your eyes wide. You stood to follow him, painfully pulling yourself to your feet, but made only a few steps before you felt a rock hit your back, and you whipped around to find Frenchie behind you, holding a hose.

“Starlight suggests you take a shower before our drive back,” he said, gesturing to the hose.

You blinked, looking back at Edgar, only to watch him be loaded into an armed van. Your brow wrinkled, a part of you wanting to chase the car down and demand Edgar elaborate, but you just turned back to Frenchie with a sigh.

“Sure, just count down before you–“

You cut yourself off as the freezing water hit you in the face.

Thankfully, Frenchie had thought to bring a towel—a gross, possibly moldy towel—but a towel nonetheless, and he handed it to you the moment the hose-down was finished. As his arm stretched out, you noticed a deep gash poking out from his sleeve.

“I can fix that,” you gestured to him. “I mean, I’ll have to touch you, but I won’t tell anyone what I feel, and you won’t have to let MM give you stitches.”

Frenchies frowned, looking at his arm as if only he now noticing his injury. “Are you sure? You must be tired, and–“

“I’ll be fine. Won’t hurt me for more than a few seconds.”

He hesitated, but gave you a nod, rolling up his sleeve before offering his injury to you. You took a deep breath and placed your hand over the wound. It hit you fast, it always did, the onslaught of emotions. You were suddenly twice as tired, a powerful and painful guilt sitting on your shoulders and a self-loathing that was familiar, but not yours, carved itself into your chest. After a second to adjust, you started to work. Your own arm, mirror to Frenchies, began to sting as the skin turned raw and red. You bit your tongue, ignoring it and focusing on keeping yourself going until the cut was gone, the skin was healthy, and there were no signs of any issues in the first place.

“Huh,” Frenchie stated at his unmarked arm, glancing at your own, which was already fully healed itself. “Merci.”

“No problem,” you offered him a grin. “Just don’t tell Butcher you accepted my evil supe healing.”

“You do not,” he frowned slightly. “You do not feel everything, yes? Just, simple, children’s emotions?”

It was your turn to frown. “Children’s emotions?”

“Oui. Joy, fear, sadness. No more.”

Oh. You hesitated to answer, debating if it was worth the lie. It would make him feel better, you reasoned with yourself.

But he wouldn’t trust you, a little voice whispered. And he’ll hate you.

You settled on the truth. You didn’t think you could stand another person hating you.

“No, I feel… everything,” you admitted. “But I wasn’t lying before. I won’t tell anyone.” You paused, watching his face carefully as you continued. “I won’t tell Kimiko.”

A look of shock passed over his face, but Frenchie nodded. “Good. Good. Tres bien,” he gave you a grateful look. “Merci.”

“Anytime,” you gave him a close-lipped smile, and the two of you returned to your group just as your ride pulled up. As you loaded into the car and began the long, tense drive, Edgar’s words replayed on loop in your head.

Your power surpasses Soldier Boy’s, surpasses Homelander’s. Learn how to control your gift, and learn fast. Do not waste yourself.

Do not waste yourself.

You thought back to the last time you saw Homelander. Though it had been from a distance, and he had not even known you were there, your body had frozen. Fear, white-hot and all consuming, had coursed through you. You had almost passed out from it. If you had been face-to-face with him, it might have killed you all on its own.

Do not waste yourself.

You couldn’t fight Homelander. You just couldn’t. You could be capable of overpowering him tenfold, and you still wouldn’t be able to fight him. You knew, in your heart, that his eyes would meet yours and you would be sent right back into that tiny white room, feel his hands holding you down, feel that hollow, empty hopelessness leak from you into the air.

But he needs to die, a small voice whispered in your head. And you’re the Anomaly. You could kill him. You’re the only one who could stop him forever, make sure he never hurts anyone, ever again.

No. No, you couldn’t be the only one. Yes, the biochem weapon had been a bust, and no one else could possibly rival Homelander and come out of it alive. But there had to be other options.

Your power surpasses Soldier Boy’s.

Do not waste yourself.

An idea started to form in your head. A terrible idea. A reckless and dangerous idea. But an idea all the same. And as it became fully formed, you managed to convince yourself more and more that it might somehow work.

Now all you had to do was convince everyone else.

——-

“No. No fucking way.”

The air in the meeting room was tense, mouths hanging open in shock. MM was glaring at you with a disdain you had previously only seen directed at Butcher, Butcher watched at you with a reverence you hope to never see on his face again, Grace Mallory looked all at once disgusted, intrigued, and impressed, and President-Elect Singer frowned as he listened, but gave you a nod to continue regardless.

“I know it’s crazy, but the problem last time was that you couldn’t control him, right? And I could. You can have us isolated, making sure we're out of the public eye and away from any possible collateral until you need us. I’d keep an eye on him, keep him in line, and he wouldn’t be able to hurt me.”

“I, for one, think this is an amazing idea. Best one I ever heard,” Butcher grinned at you. “Worst case scenario, it goes sideways, he kills her, we knock him out, and everyone still wins.”

“What part of ‘he wouldn’t be able to hurt me’ don’t you understand?” You snapped back.

“What if he blasts you with his fucking reactor?” MM pushed. “Makes you just another human? What’s your plan then?”

“That wouldn’t work on me,” you responded dryly.

Butcher snorted, but Mallory raised an eyebrow.

“Really? What makes you so sure?”

“One of the tests that was run on me was putting me in a room and blasting it with nuclear energy. They dropped Hiroshima on me, and it did jack shit. Soldier Boy throwing a temper tantrum won’t be any different.”

“And how do you think you could control him?” Singer asked.

“I can burn up to 5500 degrees Celsius. That’s hotter than a bomb. Won’t kill him, will knock him the fuck out. And it’ll hurt.”

“I just can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner,” Butcher mused. “It’s fuckin' perfect.”

You glowered at him. “Stop helping me.”

MM looked at Mallory. “The fact that America’s number one unstable asshole,” he gestured to Butcher. “Is on board should be enough to tell you how stupid this is.”

“Number two unstable asshole,” you said under your breath.

“Thanks, Love,” Butcher winked at you.

“Yeah well, don’t be so pleased. You’re only just losing to Homelander.”

Butcher shrugged, and you returned your attention to Singer. “Sir, please trust me. I, more than almost anyone, know how dangerous this could be. But Homelander is more dangerous. We needed a weapon,” you echoed Edgar’s words. “This is it.”

Singer nodded slowly, and MM scoffed.

“You can’t be seriously considering this. He’s a fucking unstable asshole murderer and a goddamn liability. What if we wake him up, she can’t control him, and he gets free?”

“We said whatever it takes,” you snapped. “I wouldn’t be pitching this if I thought it wouldn’t work. I can control him, I promise.”

“You’d bet your life on it?” Mallory asked.

“My life?” You snorted. “In a heartbeat.”

Mallory sighed. “Then fine,” she shot a look to Singer. “I’ll sign off if you do.”

“Sir,” MM said, sounding almost desperate. “I am begging you, do not do this.”

Singer just shook his head slightly. “Desperate times, they make you do desperate things. If I saw another way, I’d take it, but for now we’ll have to make do. I approve the request.”

“Thank you, sir.” You gave Singer a grateful nod, ignoring the searing feeling of MM’s anger.

“Don’t thank me, girl. If this goes south, it’s your head. Grace, set up a safe house for them ASAP, if I’m signing off on this I want it moving fast.”

Mallory nodded. “It’ll take a few days. We’ll have to transport him there before we wake him up.”

“Do whatever you have to,” Singer said as he stood to leave. “If this is our only shot, we can’t afford to miss.”

[itsgrimeytime]

when someone yells at you... || Rick Grimes (TWD)

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker

"That was all your goddamn fault!"

And maybe it was just because you were tired, but something in you agreed with him -you knew you could do better than this.

"Look, okay, I'm sorry-" you tried -something weak and shaky in your tone (you were exhausted and all they were saying was making all of the noise in your head louder), "-I never meant to-"

"Fuck that," he hissed, "-you almost got us all killed with that fucking mistake. Don't you get that?!"

"It was just-" you started, slowly -words trying to come out properly.

"Just shut the fu-"

"What the hell is goin' on 'ere?" a voice boomed -southern drawl emphasized and tone unshaken: Rick Grimes.

He stepped in between the two of you.

You were exhausted, hands coming up to rub at your temples. Eyes were getting a little foggy and your lip was trembling, you couldn't falter. It could only make you lose respect in the grand scheme of things. You took a deep breath in.

"'Ey fucked up the whole run," the person explained, and you shrunk into yourself more, "-gave one wrong order, and fucking Nancy almost bit the goddamn bullet, Rick."

Rick just stared at him -something heavy in his gaze.

"You must not know shit 'bout this world," Rick scoffed, and you could see the slow steps of him approaching the man -you couldn't even remember his name, "-but every win 'ere's a hundred damn loses. Judgin' one person for a mistake, ya see, just ain't fuckin' wise."

"Somebody almost died, Rick," the man countered, "-don't you care about your people? Or have you lost that side of yourself too?"

Rick rushed forward then, grabbing the guy by his collar and raising him into the air. Your heart jolted into your throat.

"I'll feed you to the fuckin' walkers if ya keep talkin' like that."

The man seemed to falter, but you saw a gleam in Rick's eye. A dangerous gleam.

The group was already rocky as is, Rick didn't need to lose any respect. He didn't need to string out the dynamic further. One move and it'd tip.

"Rick," you insisted -hands wringing out in front of your chest, and his eyes almost immediately flashed to you, "-it's not worth it."

He seemed to lighten then, scanning over you. Maybe taking in your hands, or your hunched shoulders, or your blurry eyes. It was like his priorities switched, completely focused on you.

He let out a long sigh, dropping the man to the ground -he fumbled a little with his footing, "'Ey saved your life, remember 'at."

The man seemed shaken, swallowing thickly and blinking like he was trying to center himself. Rick merely focused entirely on you, heavy footfall bringing him right in front of you.

"Ya okay?" He spoke, soft and sweet -such a drastic difference from before that it made your head spin a little.

"I'm..." you echoed out, a little pathetically, "-I'm just exhausted, and being berated at like that doesn't really help."

Rick frowned, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and guiding you elsewhere -voice low just for you, "C'mon, let's talk somewhere else."

"I'm just tired," you offered but it was weak, and he didn't seem at all moved by it, or even convinced.

He pulled you into his house, off the Alexandria streets -it was strangely empty. No Judith or Carl, and you briefly wondered where they were.

"Sit," he motioned to the couch.

You paused for a moment, "Rick, you don't have to do this-"

"Sit," he repeated.

You silently found yourself a spot, leaning into the arm of it -Rick joined you, barely a breath away. You weren't sure how to react. You were never really sure with Rick.

"If anybody pulls 'at shit again," he suddenly said -blue eyes solid as steel, "-you tell me, okay?"

"Rick-"

"No," he spoke, so solidly it made your voice stutter to a stop, "-nobody talks to ya 'at way and fuckin' gets away wit' it. Ya hear me?"

"Yeah, okay," you responded -softer, "-I get it."

"I don't mean to be-" he paused, turning to you with a much softer glance -blue eyes warm, "-look, Y/N. I really care about ya, and if somebody says shit 'bout you. They might as well be sayin' shit 'bout me."

"They weren't talking shit, Rick," you exhaled, and something in your voice shook, "-I fucked up. Bad."

"'At's not-" he sighed, scooting closer to you and with a solid breath taking your hand in his, "-Everybody fucks up, ain't no reason to dwell on it. Ain't no reason to yell 'bout it like he was."

"He just got scared."

"Everyone's fuckin' scared, sweetheart," he countered, gruff voice in a low whisper, "-Gives 'im no goddamn excuse to yell at ya like 'at."

You frowned, shakingly wiping at your eyes.

"And, 's important to let go of things," he hummed, squeezing his hand around yours, "-ya just gotta remember nobody got hurt. If ya don't, you're only gonna run yourself into the ground."

You were quiet for a moment, eyes swimming over your connected hands thoughtfully. They darted to his, who were already looking at you -something you didn't quite recognize shining in his eyes. There was something there you couldn't quite read -something different. You just did what felt right.

"Thanks," you said quietly -it was all you could say, moving your head to his shoulder.

"Don't-" he hummed, you could feel the grumble in his chest -arm coming to wrap around your side, "-Ya don't 'ave to thank me."

You stayed in the silence of the moment, absorbing the air. All of this... new, it sunk into your skin. Your nose filled with the woodsy scent that you knew to be just Rick, and you had a spare thought.

Maybe this could happen again, but you knew Rick would be there. Maybe that makes it okay. It does... With Rick, it's okay.

"Yeah," you responded -maybe a little fondly, "-I do."

[mattslolita]

Bambi telling her friends about Chris confused where they stand

“I mean we call eachother nicknames, he isn’t afraid to kiss me in public, don’t get my started on the sex! But he just doesn’t want to call me his… I don’t know what to do!” Bambi says ranting

“sounds like he’s refusing the accept the fact he loves u but don’t worry you two will figure it out eventually I know you two will” ur best friend says reassuring you

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧

your lips were stuck in a pout as you examined chris as he conversed with his brother and friends whilst they sat on the couch — he seemed so nonchalant as he sat there, and you sighed at the way he nodded his head every once in a while, as words spilled from his lips from time to time.

"hey you, what's on ya mind?" your friend niyah asks you, bumping your shoulder slightly as she looks at you with a concerned expression.

"i'm just. . .confused!" you sigh, turning to look at your friends. all four of them share knowing looks, already having an idea of what was about to take place, "does he even want me?"

tears form at your waterline, and riri sighs and reaches out to take your hand comfortingly as she frowns. "what do you mean, y/n?"

"i don't know what we are or where we stand," you admit, biting down on your lip as you glance over at him momentarily before turning back to the girls, "he has nicknames he only calls me, right? and he's not scared to hold me or kiss me in public. hell, we've even went on what's considered a date a couple of times! oh gosh, and don't get me started on the sex, it-"

"how bout you don't get started right now," zay cuts in jokingly, causing you to giggle and wipe a stray tear that falls from your eye.

"well, okay," you say with a small sniffle, "but i just don't get it. he won't call me his, y'know? i don't know what it is. am i not good enough to be his girlfriend?"

aiden frowns at this, rubbing comforting circles on your back. "to me y/n, it sounds like he's reluctant to admit his obvious feelings for you. i mean girl, we all see the way that man looks at you."

"one time he started lookin' at me foul like i was finna steal you!" niyah admits, crossing her arms across her chest, "boy don't play, cause if i wanted you, i would've been had you!"

"oh my gosh, remember when we dated in ninth grade?" you suddenly remembered, letting a giggle slip past your lips, "i can't believe we did that."

"had everybody hot in the pants with that one," riri recalls, causing the five of you to burst out laughing.

"but seriously y/n, i think you guys will figure it out in time, okay?" zay reassures you, and you nod half-heartedly, "you guys care about each other in a way nobody else seems to understand but you two. it's gonna happen, i just know it."

you smile, wiping a tear that escapes your eyes as all five of you lean in for a group hug — chris's eyes wander over to where you're hugging your friends, and a soft smile resides on his lips as he watches you pull apart from them with your signature giggle.

he knew what he wanted to do.

[hearts4golbach]

hii

can you do tyler x fem reader and tyler takes her out on a date and when they get back it gets a little smutty if you know what i mean 😈😈

Pretty Girl.

pairing:

Tyler (Hansumfella) x Fem!Reader.

warnings:

unprotected sex (use protection), riding, 18+ smut :p.

a/n:

im sorry this is kind of lame. I had zero clue what to write for the actual date, so I hope you enjoy it!

Tyler held your hand as you walked into the restaurant. it was your first date, but the two of you had always had something special. friends and family had always pointed it out, and it was just recently whenever Tyler had finally acted on it.

"im really glad I'm here with you, Tyler." you mentioned, nudging his shoulder gently before sitting down across from him.

his bright smile made your heart skip a beat. "You know, I've wanted to go on a date for a while now." he seemed serious but always had his joking atmosphere. he was amazing at keeping things from being awkward.

"Me too. It took you long enough to ask." he hummed and took a sip of his water. "So, how's the kitty? it's been a minute since I've been over."

"My son is great. you know he's fucking pissing and shitting everywhere, but he's getting better at going in his little box.

you kept the conversation going from there, learning more about him whenever you thought you knew more.

having dinner with Tyler was peaceful. it went much better than you were expecting, not that you were expecting it to go negatively.

he invited you back to his house to watch a movie. of course, you accepted. it wasn't out of the ordinary for Tyker to invite you over to watch a movie or stream with him.

His apartment was dark. nobody was home.

"my sister isn't here right now," he mentioned, flipping on the dim light in the kitchen. we were greeted by squash immediately.

"hi, squash! I've missed you, baby!" you squeeled, kneeling down to pet the cat.

Tyler smiled, watching as you pet squash. "Well, I'm sure he missed you, too."

you walked into the living room and made yourself comfy on the couch. Squash went off somewhere else. Tyler sat close to you, so your thighs were touching. he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, and you leaned your head on his as he turned on a movie.

the first few minutes of the movie were spent in silence. you scooted closer to him and looked up at him. "you okay?"

"yeah, just thinkin'" he shrugged.

"bout what?" You moved a curl out of his face.

he pressed his lips onto yours gently. you kissed him back passionately. your lips glided together gently. as the kiss depended, he moved you into his lap. you could feel his hard cock through his sweat pants.

"you sure this is okay?" he asked, his thumb caressing your hip.

you nodded. "You don't know how long I've wanted to do this." You began to kiss along his neck.

he grunted as you sucked and bit on his neck. he grinded your hips down onto him. "fucking hell, get these clothes off."

you did as he said, slipping your shirt off. his hands felt like heaven on your bare skin. in return, you took his shirt off and tossed it to the side along with your own.

his fingers hooked into the waistband of your sweats. he lifted you up and helped you slide them off your body before pulling you onto him again.

his thumb teased the hem of your underwear. "fuck, please."

he hummed, his other thumb tugging at your lower lip. "yeah? do you need me that bad?" his deep voice was like music to your ears. you nodded eagerly.

his hand slid down into your panties, finding it's way to your clit. you bit your lip and huffed as he slowly circled your clit. his middle finger ran through your folds, teasing your needy hole.

"shit," you muttered under your breath. he hummed before pressing his lips against yours again.

your hands made their way down his bare torso and to his sweats. you untied them and began to pull them down. you lifted yourself up, and he helped you pull them down to around his knees.

his cock was aching for you. you spit on your hand and gently stroked his member. Tyker bucked up into your hand as a soft grunt escaped his lips.

you leaned forward and pecked his lips. he smirked into the kiss as his hands found their say to your hips. you lifted yourself up and aligned his tip with your entrance.

"you okay?" he asked, his breath shaky.

you hummed, "more than okay." your lip twitched into a smile as you slowly sat on his cock.

he grunted as your warmth was tight around his dick. "fuck, you feel so good."

you hummed once more as you fully sat on his dick. you let out a moan, resting your head on his shoulder as you adjusted to his size.

your hands slid up his chest and cupped one side of his face as you began to bounce slowly. you moaned as you felt him stretch you out.

"shit, you feel even better." you replied, attempting to catch your breath. your thighs began to burn as you sped up your pace.

one hand moved up to your chest. Tyler massaged your tit gently as you rode him. his grunts turned you on even more, fueling you to take him further.

you sped up your pace further. your eyes rolled back in your head as you whimpered. his hand met the back of your neck and he pulled you in to kiss him again. his tongue slid inside of your mouth as you continued to ride him at a quick speed.

his thumb went to circle your clit. "you look so fucking pretty." he began to buck his hips up. "my pretty girl." he choked out.

your moans grew louder, filling the room along with the sounds of Tyler's grunts. "fuck, 'm so close." you mumbled against his lips. you kissed him passionately, moaning into his mouth.

his hands moved to your hips, guiding you to go faster. your eyes fluttered shut as you felt the knot in your stomach snap. your walls spasmed around his dick. he helped you ride out your high and watched as your juices mixed together. he pulled out and came on your stomach.

he quickly cleaned you up. "shit," he giggled. you adored his smile.

you hummed, "I know."

"I think that means you're my girlfriend now." he joked as he led you back to his room.

"God, I fucking hope so."

[rafesveryrealgf]

thinking about fwb!JJ and how he confesses he’s fucking whipped okay so nobody knows you and JJ fuck on the DL. your friends honestly just think that maybe the two of you have crushes on each other but they don't actually think anything else is going on. but boyyy are they wrong. everyone is at the beach (everyone as in the pogues + you) you're wearing your favorite skimpy bathing suit and JJ is not going for it. before the two of you got into the twinkie to head to the beach you'd had a whole minor disagreement with JJ in the chateau about you wearing that bathing suit. when you'd gotten to the beach JJ was almost over the fact that you'd disobeyed his wishes to not wear the bathing suit. that is until he has to go fetch the beer from the twinkie that had been forgotten when unloading everything down to the beach. when he comes back, case of beer in his hand he sees in a distance john b. picking you up off of the towel you'd been so peacefully laying on, throwing you over his shoulder, despite your protest, to run into the water and making sure you're nice and submerged before letting you go. you're both laughing and splashing each other when a furious JJ makes his way to the designated spot to set the beers down. when everyone is done swimming, making their way to where JJ was seated to relax and have a beer, JJ’s annoyance is clear. every time you try talking to him his response is half assed and eventually you just give up. later on when everyone is ready to leave and everything is packed up you guys make your way back to the chateau. when the twinkie is parked JJ is the first to hop out, storming off to his room in the chateau and you quickly follow. "what’s your problem, JJ?" is the first thing you ask when you step in the room. "shut the door." is all he says and of course you do as told. when the door is closed that's when JJ steps near you. "you know, i've never wanted to do this whole friends with benefits thing." your brows furrow at that. you had no clue where this was going. "do you know how fuckin' hard it is to watch guys stare at you and not be able to do anything about it ‘cause we're not together?" he had no idea how much you related to that. constantly having to watch girls throw themselves at him. "-and having to watch my own guy friends crush on you because they don't know about us. ‘bout the things we do." and you're honestly at a loss for words. "JJ, i didn't know-" and he's shaking his head before you can even finish what you were saying and reaching up to let his palm rest on the side of your face. "fuck, i know we had that shitty fuckin' rule about how neither of us can catch feelings but y/n.. i was in love with you way before i was fucking you."

[pyreo]

I'm comparing the Dungeon Meshi manga to episodes I just watched and now I gotta capital-p Post about this one episode (spoilers past Episode 12)

So this part is an emotional side-step from the central throughline so far - Laios and Marcille got Falin back successfully and reunited, and they got that payoff from the very beginning where they thought it would be impossible. But Chilchuck is very much a part of these layers of development, so after that dragon finally dies, we stop for a second - Laios and Marcille are recovering, Falin has disappeared again - how does Chilchuck feel at that point?

It's the perfect stage to insert that because he didn't really share in that sense of victory in the same way as Laios and Marcille recovering someone extremely close to them. And that's on purpose because he keeps everyone at arms' length. As soon as that arc hits its end and Falin is recovered, there's at last space to ask - why is Chilchuck even here.

He's asking himself that through the chapter. Now that they've lost the person they intended to save, he regrets agreeing to come.

And starts shouldering responsibility for everything ending up this way. We saw that when he got stuck in the mimic room before - he refuses to let himself ask for help, or he'll try to take burdens alone to lessen relying on others. The original Touden Party was six people, and when Laios insisted on going back underground they were two, and he knew they would die, and figured maybe, maybe if they were one more, with his skillset, maybe they'd have a chance. He couldn't let them walk back down just to die.

And he's going back to that mindset - their lives are on me. He thinks he could have prevented this if he'd chosen differently. Essentially, the walk alongside the orc woman is him working through a guilt spiral.

He sees a second chance to correct that mistake of joining the party. He wants them out now, before they die. The orc asks him how they defeated a dragon and, in explaining it, he reminds himself of all the risky, ridiculous things they had to do, and he isn't satisfied with just getting lucky. Laios got his foot bitten off, on purpose! This proves to him that if they go any further they will not survive. And he hints at this dissatisfaction a couple chapters later, wishing his teammates prioritised things other than winning at all costs...

Like, obviously. The point of this chapter is Chilchuck pretending to be a self-serving coward. To the point where others react with disdain, even disgust, towards him because he wants to lie to Marcille and Laios to ensure they turn back. He's desperate to get out of a hopeless situation by any means necessary, and will destroy his standing in the group in a blink if it means nobody else dies. He has to go on a stupid mental health walk for his stupid mental health and talk through his little bout of panic and doubt.

'You called me a coward so don't be surprised when I act accordingly'

He needs someone very blunt to tell him 'dude you're not being a coward for wanting your friends to get out of hell alive. you're a coward for making excuses instead of honestly telling them your concern is genuine' and he BSODs about it. He needs to rant and externalise that frustration over their recklessness at a third party. He needs to scream that they are idiots because he's the only one for which the ends don't justify the means and he can't keep losing his mind over everyone's safety. Down to a point, the orc praises their ability to survive the explosion from the dragon's fuel sac, and it only justifies Chilchuck - Falin didn't even know she could cast the spell that stopped them all being killed, and they cannot continue getting lucky like this.

Anyway. The reason I stopped to think about it was this part-

Where he recovers Laios's monster-infused sword. The thing that made their situation in the dragon fight go from bad to worse, that he swore at Laios for in every language he knew. The most angry we'd seen him. And now he calmly picks it up and praises it for being the only one of them smart enough to make a run for it.

He's projecting, obviously. He's internalising the label of 'coward' and changing himself to fit it. And, look at him, he's so tired of this. It's evidence of his sheer exhaustion that his anger immediately disappears and he actually gives it a compliment. Him and Laios's sword, the group cowards, the only one who agrees with him.

Then, because he had a walk before getting into the argument, he's organised his feelings and drops all the walls and pretense and just says it.

There's a rule of writing where you contrast your high energy sequences with parts that are slow and mundane, to make the difference more apparent. I think that's why I like this bit so much. The fight against the dragon is long, and the emotional stakes are enormous. Right after that we have the bath scene with Falin and Marcille, and Laios ruffling Falin's hair, and this part that pauses everything to explore the stuff that Chilchuck finally needs to say. And it's wrapped in this neat little solemn journey to pick up their supplies and remember how it felt when all five of them had a meal around a real dinner table at last.

And because he doesn't resort to individualistic trickery, because he explains his point as a duty of care rather than pitting himself against the others, he gets backed up. Senshi agrees that they don't have the supplies to continue, and the orc lady mentions her brethren will return later and can give them support, all of which together breaks down Laios's singleminded devotion to his cause.

Personally I think the manga's better suited to comic timing, but in the anime you can get fleshed out little moments, like Laios's face journey as he realises the other three are making a good case for their survival.

This was my favourite part so far, and I like how both Chilchuck-centric episodes have separated him from the others. Because he won't reveal anything he's thinking otherwise. lmao

[feelingf1]

treat you right - charles leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x gasly!girlfriend reader

summary: you go out clubbing one night with Pierre, that’s until he leaves you at the bar to go talk with his ex. Luckily there’s someone at the other side of the bar waiting for you

warnings: badly written NSFW. going down on eachother, p in v, all that jazz

authors note: this is my first time writing smut, so it probably sucks. sorry ‘bout that

enjoy :)

—————

The Monaco air was warm and heavy as you headed into the club. Your arm was linked with your boyfriend’s, Pierre. You two were going out to celebrate Pierre’s first podium since joining Alpine. You headed down to the tables, where you had margarita after margarita. You two were chatting the whole night, and you had never really felt happier.

But that was about to change dramatically.

You noticed Pierre’s eyes focus on somebody behind you, as his conversation started to become more distant. You stroked his hand. “Hey, you okay?”

Pierre nodded, “Yeah, yeah. I’ve just spotted Charles and Lando over there. Do you mind if I go and talk to them for a few minutes?”

Even though you were enjoying your private little night, you liked both Charles and Lando, and you knew how close Pierre was to the two of them.

“Yeah, go on. I’ll get us more drinks.” You smiled sweetly and got up from your table. He planted a kiss on your cheek. “Thanks, you’re the best.”

You headed over to the bar and sat up on the stool for a minute, waiting until the bar calmed down a bit before you ordered more drinks. You pulled out your phone and tuned out the world for a few minutes.

The bar finally calmed down, and you ordered your drinks and headed back down to the table. You started sipping on your margarita, until someone slid into the table, across from you.

“Hi, Pier-” You looked up from your phone to find out it wasn’t Pierre, but it was Charles that slid into the seat.

“Hey, Y/N, you look amazing tonight.” He said, whilst casually trying to check you out. “Thanks, you’re not so bad yourself.”

“So, when did you break up with Pierre?”

You nearly gave yourself whiplash with how fast you looked at him. “What? I haven’t broken up with Pierre. I’m here with him right now. He said he was going to talk to you and Lando.”

Charles gulped and lowered his voice. “Well I’m sitting in front of you, and Lando is in London. Also he’s talking to someone, that may or may not be his ex girlfriend.”

You whipped your head around again, to see Pierre in the corner of the club, rubbing up against his ex girlfriend. You watched as he tilted her head back and started kissing her. You turned around to face Charles again.

“That motherfucker.” You said.

Charles moved from the seat across from you to the side beside you, where Pierre had been seated earlier.

“Agreed. He shouldn’t treat such a spectacular woman in such a horrible way.”

He stroked your cheek and looked lovingly into your eyes. You could feel your heart starting to beat faster, as you both slowly closed the gap between the two of you.

He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear. “You don’t deserve somebody like that Y/N. I’d never treat you like that. I’d make sure you’d be treated like a queen.” He said, his voice soft, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?” You said. “Show me. Show me how I deserve to be treated.”

You were so mad at Pierre right now, you didn’t care that you were about to kiss, and probably do more, with his best friend, but weirdly, it didn’t even feel like it was wrong.

Charle cupped your jaw and he kissed you. At first it was soft and sweet, but you both began to deepen it within seconds. Charles bit your lips, begging for permission for his tongue to enter your mouth, which you granted him immediately. You felt yourself moaning into his mouth, trying desperately to make sure nobody else heard you.

As you started to deepen the kiss further, you could feel has hands traveling all over your body, lingering on your breasts and ass as he squeezed both. He guided you until you were sat on his lap straddling him.

He moved from your lips to your neck. “I’ll mark your neck princess, show everyone in the world that your mine. He would never have done that, would he?”

You shook your head. Charles really did know Pierre well, he hated PDA. Well he hated it with you. He was all for leaving marks all over his ex, but he wouldn’t even kiss your neck. Maybe he was never really into you in the first place, but Pierre was the last person on your mind right now.

You started grinding against Charles, wanting, begging for more. He made a trail of kisses down to your breasts, which were pushed up massively thanks to your bodysuit.

“Please Charles, I need more.” You whimpered and begged.

He nodded. “Yeah, but we’re going to have to move from here, you won’t be able to keep quiet when you’re screaming my name.”

He leaned into your ear. “Come back to my place, I’ll show you what your missing.”

You nodded frantically, not even having to think twice. Charles led you out of the club and he hauled a taxi to bring you both back to his apartment.

You climbed into the back and couldn’t keep your hands off each other. You had never been so thankful for a black-out screen, so the driver couldn’t see you.

Charles’ hands travelled up your thighs, until they reached your pussy. You moaned deeply as he felt how wet you were.

“So wet for me, mon amour, I love it.”

He moved your underwear aside and started fingering you. He found your clit almost immediately and you knew you wouldn’t be able to hang on long. You grabbed your tits and started massaging them.

“Charles, baby, you’re going to have to stop, I’ll come all over this taxi.”

As much as you enjoyed the PDA, you would feel terrible for making a mess in the back of this car. “Don’t worry about that, I have a solution.” He winked at you before going down on his knees in front on you.

You tried to resist but you couldn’t, as he spread your legs wide open and pulled down your underwear, leaving your pussy exposed. He didn’t waste any time before he licked a big strip, from bottom to top, before his tongue entered you.

He started to tongue-fuck you. You felt ecstatic, with the feeling his tongue hitting off of your clit. You held on to the door of the car, needing something to support you.

“Oh fuck, Charles.” You said, moaning his name. You grabbed onto his hair and guided him deeper into your pussy. “Fuck I’m gonna-”

Charles reached up and covered your mouth as your came, in some attempt to muffle your moans. He lapped up all of your juices like someone that had been starved. You collapsed into the seat, your heart beating fast. Once he was finished, he sat back up and started kissing you again.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Fuck. Yes. I couldn’t be better.”

“How much longer until we’re back at yours?” You asked, feeling the heat rising from between your legs. Whilst his tongue was spectacular, you needed something more.

“Could be 15/20 minutes. The Monaco traffic sucks in the middle of summer.”

You smirked up at him. “I know something else that can suck.”

You got down on your knees and pulled down his jeans and boxers, as his rock-hard dick sprung up. It twitched a bit after being exposed, before you started rubbing it and guiding it to your mouth.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He said.

You licked the precum off before taking all of him into your mouth, slowly at first, but then increasing your speed. You grabbed his balls and started massaging them too. You could feel him melting under you.

He grabbed your hair and started pushing himself deeper into your mouth. He tilted his head back and moaned, “Fuck. You’re insane.”

You started to gag a bit and tears were streaming down your face, but you ignored that and focused on making him come in your mouth, which you were sure he was close to doing.

“Y/N, I’m gonna come, fuck.” As he groaned, he came in your mouth, and it was your turn to lap up his cum. You wiped your mouth and sat up on the seat beside him again.

He turned towards you and lowered your bodysuit, exposing your breasts. “You’re so sexy.” He said, his breath still slightly out of control, as he starting sucking your tits and leaving hickeys all over you.

That taxi came to a stop outside of Charles’ apartment. The two of you practically ran to his door, not being able to keep your hands off each other.

Charles shut his door and backed you up against it. You kept into his arms, putting your legs around his waist as you began to suck on his neck. He carried you over to his bed and gently put you down.

He took off your skirt and bodysuit, leaving you in your lingerie set, which you had imagined that Pierre would be seeing, but you were much happier that it was Charles.

He stood back and looked down at you, nearly exposed. “Fuck me, you’re like a piece of art, you’re perfect.”

You sat up and grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, pulling him towards you. He pulled off his t-shirt to show his beautifully chiseled body. You looked down before looking up in his eyes. “Fuck me, please.”

He flipped you over so you were on your hands and knees and he started going into you, using one of his hands to hold your hip, for support, and the other to grab your tits.

You dropped onto your elbows with all the moaning he was making you do. You’d never been fucked like this in all your life. You moaned loader and loader each time.

“Scream my name. Let me hear how could you feel.”

After he hit your g-spot perfectly, that’s what you did. “Charles, fuck, oh my god.” It wasn’t long after before you came again, but it most certainly did not stop there.

“Please Charles, keep going, don’t stop.”

All of a sudden, a ringtone snapped you out of your pleasure. Charles leaned over to the side to see who it was. “It’s Pierre.”

“Fuck him. Don’t answer.” You replied back, you didn’t want to hear from Pierre now, or ever.

After a few minutes, he rang again. “Hang on amour, I have an idea.” He picked up the phone and put it on FaceTime.

“Charles, do you know where Y/N is?” Pierre asked, extremely slurred.

“Yeah, she’s under me.”

“Under you? No Charles in English you say with not under.”

“No, she’s under me.”

Charles then flipped the camera around to show Pierre how he was ramming into you, as you screamed his name again and again, unable to compress any of the moans.

He flipped the camera around again, “Don’t worry, I’ll treat her right.” He said, hanging up before Pierre got the chance to answer.

You and Charles then came at the same time. You came many more times that night, to the point you couldn’t remember who Pierre was. Charles made sure that you were his princess.

—————

you can read part two of this fanfic here

[2knightt]

may u do the gang with a significant other who is in a popular band or actor? up to four preference of course. lots of love!

୧ ׅ𖥔 ۫ darling, can i be your favourite? ⋄ 𓍯

REQUESTED: reader’s the coolest person ever and the gang’s their biggest fan!

tags/warnings: headcanons, gn!reader, reader is a singer/popstar!reader, gang is obsessed, reader is big time famous, near the end they got shorter because my tumblr started lagging.

ೃauthor notes⁀➷ hey my love !!! seen this after i posted and knew i had to get to work 🙂‍↕️ also while i was working on this, i got a req for actor!reader..ur in luck🤭

—

johnny cade

╰┈➤ now playing. — espresso, y/n l/n

how he bagged you, the world may never know. like seriously.

YOU’RE ON THE BIG SCREEN AND YOU’RE IN THE RADIO AND YOU GO AFTER JOHNNY CADE??? everyone was shocked. lives were CHANGED.

“you’re dating who?”

“..y/n l/n?”

“in your dreams maybe???”

“fuck you?”

nobody believed him because you confessed to him over the phone when you were touring 😔! you realized you really liked johnny when you had to be away from him for so long.

so for like that period of time, it was just call after call of you two giggling back and forth.

the gang, swear to fucking god, knew he was talking to someone but they thought he was lying about who he was talking to

UNTIL YOU CAME BACK!!!!

Then they were all,

“what the fuck….”

“can i like—borrow a 20?”

“DAMN”

spoil him. take him with you. protect johnny cade with ur money or else. i find you.

but seriously, pleaseeee make sure johnny lives the life he deserves ☹️ since you’re a singer, you make a FUCK ton of money

put it to good use (spending it on johnny cade)

hey! you’re all he talks about!! HE DOESN’T STFU THAT HE’S DATING SOMEONE THAT’S FAMOUS.

“what ‘bout you, lil’ boy? you got someone?”

“hell yeah. y/n l/n.😇💯”

“..the singer?”

“damn right, ‘the singer’!”

listens to your music when he misses you!!

OH MU GOD WRITE A SONG ABOUT JOHNNY CADE PLEASEEEE AND WEAR HIS JEAN JACKRT ON STAGE PLEASEEEEEEE

i can’t stress how much he loves you

he has photos of you everywhere. and anywhere.

steals magazines you model for to promote your albums<3

dallas winston

╰┈➤ now playing — nonsense, y/n l/n.

why would you pick him.

shame on you. you have celebrities flocking to you and you pick some guy in tulsa who’s in jail every friday.

tsk tsk. whatever makes you happy!

ANYWAYS

also, never shuts the fuck up about you. like seriously, somehow, you’re always the topic of conversation.

“yeah, that’s crazy that she slashed your tires. my LOVELY Y/N would never tho. did you know they sing? you’ve probably heard of ‘em-“

MAKES YOU WEAR HIS RINGS WHEN YOU PERFORM!!! AND SOMETIMES HIS LEATHER JACKET!!! DALLAS DGAF IF IT’S DIRTY OR NOT

He needs those freaks in the crowd to know you’re HIS—not theirs just because you’re famous.

if you ever collab with a dude he’s gonna fucking lose his mind i’m not kidding

“YOU’RE GOING TO THE STUDIO WITH WHO???”

“i told you-“

“yeah, i know. lets go.”

dallas invited himself btw.

dedicate a song to him and he’s literally gonna make EVERYONE listen to it. when it comes on the radio, he’s IMMEDIATELY turning up the volume.

“looking at you got me thinkin’ nonsense.”

“that’s about me, by the way.”

“WE KNOW.”

“YOU TELL US THIS EVERY DAMN DAY”

“yeah. where’s your partner that write songs about you? huh? take that shit up with someone else.”

IN HIS ROOM HE HAS SOOO MANY POSTERS OF YOUUUUUU

cannot believe he got so lucky and bagged you

he used to pray for days like these😭😭🙏

ponyboy curtis

╰┈➤ now playing — work song, y/n l/n.

yes, i did make your song more poetic than the rest. that’s just what ponyboy is into and gets him crying.

did he get lucky? yeah. does he acknowledge that every waking moment of his life and devotes himself to making sure you never feel the burden of having to perform daily?

yeah

helps you write songs sometimes. ponyboy naturally has a poets soul so USE IT TO YOUR ADVANTAGE

GUVE HIM A FUCKING OEN AND PAPER AND HE’S WRITING A HIT SINGLE

omgomg if you credit him while at your concerts he might faint<3333

spoil him and his brothers.

his brothers are included because you see how much they’re struggling and it literally pains you to see the love of ur life get so frustrated over money

sneakily put money into darry’s wallet when he isn’t looking and ponyboy might just kiss u right then and there

it’ll take awhile for him to accept the help, but when he does—he’s so grateful to have an angel like u in his life😭😭💔💔💔

“i love you. did you know that?”

“of course i do, pony.”

“i should tell you that more often.”

uses a photo of you as a bookmark btw. it’s you in his favourite outfit you ever wore, performing the song you made for him.

ponyboy’s obsessed.

shoves ANYONE off the tv to watch you perform. he doesn’t care. and the gang lets him<3 cuz they know how much you mean to their little pony!!

not without teasing. never without teasing. ponyboy is never fucking free

“soda, it’s my turn on the tv.”

“what? you tryna watch your girlfriend?”

“…shut up.”

“look at you! what a loverboy, huh? you loveeeee her, don’t you?”

“man, just get off the tv!”

watches & listens to everything you’re in. wether it be interviews, music videos, etc—he can probably quote it. every part.

he’s so obsessed with you it’s not fucking funny

sodapop curtis

╰┈➤ now playing — that boy is mine, y/n l/n.

it couple. genuinely.

you got soda more publicity and modeling agencies have definitely hit him up LMFAO

he most definitely has modelled with you for covers :3c

BUT OTHER THAN THAT

oh u better fucking believe that the DX is always playing your music

SODA DOESNT CARE IF HE’S NOT ALLOWED TO TOUCH THE RADIO

he will. and he will be playing the song you made about him to remind the girls that go to flirt with him that he’s yours.

HE HAS A NECKLACE WITH YOUR INITAL ON IT AND YOU HAVE A NECKLACE WITH HIS INITAL!!1!1!1!1!1

flash it when paparazzi takes photos and he WILL put that photo in his wallet to show people when they ask about his partner.

CANT STFU EVEN IF HE FUCKING TRIED

soda makes u his whole personality

“sigh😔 y/n would’ve loved this beat..”

“SHUT UP ABOUT Y/N😒”

“NO?? I LOVE THEM!!!???”

LOVES PRACTICING UR CHOREOGRAPHY WITH YOU LMFAOOO

it’s so cute☹️☹️😔😔 soda might trip over his feet every once and awhile but he’s always laughing so hard with you when he does<3

darry curtis

╰┈➤ now playing — say yes to heaven, y/n l/n.

tries SOOOO hard to act like he doesn’t gaf that you’re singer but it’s so tough to not brag about it

the boys at work could be talking about their partners but when they go ask darry, he hides his grin and blush by looking down, running his hands through his hair.

“what ‘boutchu, kid? how’s the lover?”

“ah, y’know. they’re busy touring or in the studio.”

“eh?”

“oh—y/n l/n. they’re-“

darry cannot be stopped now. he won’t shut up about how great of a person you are, never letting the fame get to you.

ERAHHH HE STAYS UP LATE AT NIGHT TO WATCH YOUR PERFORMANCES WHEN YOU’RE AWAY!!!!!!! HE LOVES WATCHING YOU SWAY ACROSS THE STAGE!!

hehehehehe slow dance with him in the kitchen to ur unreleased songs you made about him…. 😈😈

PLEAEE HELP HIM FINANCIALLY PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

im begging you to just sit darry curtis down and try to convince him that, you giving him money to help around, isn’t an issue.

i don’t see darry moving out of the curtis house unfortunately, i think he will always view it as his parents house and it’s too sentimental.

so, don’t even bother asking him to move. but—do give him money. or sneakily pay the bills. whatever you have to do to help darry relax, please do it!!!

loves it when you sing slower/more relaxing songs

darry thinks it’s so attractive to hear your like soothing, breathy, and smooth voice.

he has a photo framed of you bowing toward the crowd below you, tightly holding the microphone that you had his name engraved in.

it’s currently beside his bed on his nightstand.

he looks at it every night before bed and every morning before work. <3

steve randle

╰┈➤ now playing — art deco, y/n l/n.

he’s feral. he’s fucking crazy about you.

“PUT ON THAT NEW Y/N SHIT‼️”

“why??”

“CAUSE I SAID SO?!1”

number one supporter. nobody comes close to him

AHHHH HE HAS A TATTOO DEDICATED TO YOU!!!! IT’S DEFINITELY A SONG LYRIC YOU WROTE ABOUT HIM IN UR HAND WRITING

when steve’s nervous he traces over it :3c

steve always finds himself, unconsciously, humming your songs while he works on cars!

i like to think his favourite colour is blue, so plsplsplspls wear blue (even if it’s a small accessory) to your concerts just so steve knows you’re always thinking about him.

he keeps little gifts, or rather the accessories you leave at his house, in a little box. he thinks they’re so cute and he will burn a building down before he lets anyone find out

two-bit mathews

╰┈➤ now playing — melting, y/n l/n.

“DID YOU KNOW I’M DATING Y/N? THE FAMOUS SINGER? YEAH, BET YOU WISH THAT WAS YOU😭😂!”

that’s every other sentence from his stupid lips!!

KNOWS EVERY LYRIC TO YOUR SONGS AND WILL SCREAM HIS FUCKING LUNGS OUT TO THEM!!!

attach a mickey charm to ur mic while you sing on stage and he’ll start foaming at the mouth..

two-bit’s all, “that’s for me.:mickey….me….me…mickey….”

he literally begs you to sing him to sleep

STEALS YOUR RECORDS/VINYLS???!!! HE HANGS THEM UP ON HIS WALL WITH SUCH CARE IT’S SO ADORABLE ☹️☹️

teach his little sister some of your dance moves and he might marry you tbh.

two-bit dreams of you and i’m so fucking serious