#guts x black reader

[princessoflalaland]

Everybody Knows That I'm a Good Girl

content: slight smut, masturbation, good girl reader x guts

a/n: lana del Rey's 'playing dangerous' was in mind as well as all the inspo provided to me by my girl dv

good girl reader who always turns in her work on time and arrives to work on time. punctuality is her middle name.

good girl reader who does as she told without question. she puts emphasis on being a good girl.

good girl reader who is an overachiever. what—no, who—would she be if everyone around her didn't know how hard she worked?

good girl reader who wouldn't so much as ever look at porn. what does she look like, a pervert?

good girl reader who doesn't and will never associate with the likes of her roommate, Guts. why would she? a ruffian like him that has a reputation with all kinds of women at the university. he'd only serve to tarnish her meticulously built reputation, and she doesn't need that.

good girl reader who would never partake in something so obscene as to bringing someone into the dorms and screwing them next door. Guts does that enough for the both of them. it's not her fault that the walls are thin and she can hear the...mean things he says.

"takin this dick so good, ya fuckin slut. finna nut all in this nasty pussy, mhm, gonna make a mess outta you..."

good girl reader who swears she'd never want someone to talk to her like that. her panties were already that wet to begin with, before she could hear his vulgar vocabulary partnered with those deep, sexy moans...

good girl reader who can't help but notice the scratches those girls leave on his neck and back when she passes him in the dorm halls. what an exaggeration. it, he, can't be that good, right?

good girl reader who finds it hard to think when that damned Guts teases her in front of his friends whenever he can. she'll glare and ignore the second pulse between her legs.

good girl reader who is unfortunate enough to find one of guts shirts in the dorm laundry room. it must've slipped out of basket and never made it to the washer because it still smells like him.

good girl reader who swears its pure curiosity, rationalizing that humans are naturally curious. she only wants to understand what it may have felt like. so she finds herself alone on her bed with her fingers plunged deep in her weeping cunt, eyes closed, and guts shirt on her much smaller frame. with her labored breaths, images of guts flickers across her mind.

good girl reader who muffles her moans by biting down on the collar of the shirt, soaking it with her saliva. she cries his name when her strongest orgasm to date descends upon her.

good girl reader who can't help but smirk knowingly when she overhears guts complaining about his missing shirt.

"it was my favorite damn shirt too. if I find somebody wearin that shit I swear..."

good girl reader who lets, by far, the most devious machination plant itself in her mind.

good girl reader who sneaks into guts dorm when she knows he's out at one of the many block parties happening over the weekend. she's wearing that shirt he misses, sitting on his bed, heart racing and inner thighs warm and wet, as she watches the door knob turn.

good girl reader who may not be as good as everyone thinks.

[7brownsuga7]

Imagining Satoru fucking you hard and whispering in your ear to be quiet because you have company in the other room. But despite his words, his actions will say otherwise as he continues to ram into you, making you cry out in pleasure. He loves the thrill of possibly being heard. He knows you both should be quiet, but there’s something about watching you struggle to be silent whilst he gives you deep strokes that gets his blood rushing. So he fucks you harder, balls slapping against your pussy with each forceful thrust. “shh baby, you gotta try to be quiet”. A smirk plastered on his face, because he knows you can’t, especially when he makes it hard for you to. He just hopes that your company are enjoying the show.

[gamblersdoll]

omg bby can you please do sanemi or guts with a cum countdown but they’re being really mean and prolonging it pls pls plssss ily 🩷

sanemi having a cum countdown

“gunna fuckin’ cum, shit.” he snarls, teeth barred and drool dribbling onto your stomach. “ten..”

you moan, his wrists resting but digging into your hips while he pounds away at your sacred muscle. “sanemi— baby please dont!” you moan , trying to wiggle your hips to bring his orgasm faster. but, to a failed attempt.

“nine..” he goes down, eyes scrunching up and focusing on that spot that could easily knot both of you. “eight..”

this was hell, him only counting down from ten to zero was torture. “seven..”

your mind starts to go numb, excitement starts to build and your pussy clenches down on his length. groans erupts from his throat, his thrusts getting sloppier from the sensation of your walls gripping him.

“six–hah..” his pupils dilate, primal instincts kicking in and tongue lolling out. he forgets his count, snapping back to reality and snickering. “ten..”

you open your own eyes, disappointed and needy. “wha- no!” you moan out, pounding on his chest from the disapproval. “please no— need it please!”

“needy little shit.” he laughs, then being cut off from a sigh of satisfaction. “nine..”

guts cum countdown

this time it was different, you being a little shit around him and teasing him got you nowhere other than underneath his larger body. you were completely at his mercy, his lips kissing the rim of your earlobes. “five..” he whispers, kissing your neck.

you scratch his back, red lines raising up from the abrasion and his skin being a bit brighter. you babbled incoherent words and he paid them no mind.

“four..” he whispers again, hips staying linear and standard. he was pissed, none the less. “do you deserve my seed, beautiful whore?” he asks, his bicep laying across your collarbone from previously having you in a arm lock.

you try to speak, but his hips snapped mean again and cut you off with a moan. “i do!—“

“i dont think so..” he disapproves, smiling only a little bit and kissing at the hidden part of your neck. “lets start from the beginning.. five..”

“please! im— sorry—!” you choke out, tears rolling over heated cheeks from the repercussions.

“take it.”

[curvykittyyssmutfics]

corrupt!Toji

A/N: this is obviously a bit dark seeing as that's who Toji is. Can only imagine what corrupt!Toji would get into..

corrupt!Toji is whole different species. Not really a vessel per se.. The curse wasn't strong enough to posses him; Toji completely consumed the entity. But clearly it didn't agree with him. Fuckin guy was more abrasive and aggressive than ever. "Toji, stop! Let em go. He didn't mean it that way and you know it!" You yank at Toji, who's currently got his son pinned to a wall outside the school. He looks at you, large hand locked round Megumi's throat squeezin as he dangles him a few feet from the ground. "Yeah? Is that what I know? Think I only know what I can see.. And what I saw was this lil spit fucks hands wrap round your waist. My waist." Toji turns back to Megumi, who's gasping for air and clawing at his hold. "Now in my opinon, sounds like someone has a fuckin death wish, but.. I dont think y/n would ever forgive me if I killed my own spawn." The way he sneers the last word sends shivers up your spine. Toji slams his fist into Megumi's gut before tossin him to the ground like a rag. "So a warning will have ta suffice: hands off on what belongs to me or.. Die." Poor boy's left gasping in the dirt, clutching his stomache as Toji drags you away by your arm. "And you.. I think you love pissin me off. Gonna teach you some fuckin manners, y/n."

corrupt!Toji only loves one thing as much as he loves you: money. He'll do anything for it but ofcourse usually just sticks to assassination. And Toji doesn't care what you think about his line of work. "How long will you be gone this time?" In nothing but a silk robe, hands on your hips, watchin him pack to leave on yet another murderous voyage. "Don't fuckin start, woman." Doesn't even bother lookin up from his duffel as he growls at you. "I'm not startin anything. Just wanna know when you'll be done slicing up innocent civilians." That makes your deranged ass man toss his head back, laughing way too fuckin hard. "I don't kill civilians, y/n. Where's the fuckin fun in that?" Your eyes narrow at his back. "You're a fuckin monster." He stands before he's nose to nose with you in half a second. "And yet.. You don't leave." He makes you so nervous yet arousal starts to creep through, pussy clenchin once at the way his eyes trail from yours down your body slowly. "Can't leave is more like it. Think we both know you'd never let that happen." Toji kneels, lifting your leg to his shoulder. You fist at his hair, robe falling open as he grips your waist to hold you steady and hums in agreement at your words. "Tomato, tomato." He says before suckin your clit between his lips.

corrupt!Toji is a master manipulator that takes pride in your submission. Loves to trick you into thinkin you've wronged him so he can put you in your place: Waking up from your nap startled from a pressure over mouth; a muscled arm scoops you up and turns you on your belly, unyielding pecs plastered against your back and holding you to the bed. He's naked and hard against you, precum formin a wet spot on the back of your skimpy satin black nightgown. "You think I forgot what you did? What you let him do to you?" Toji"s snarl at your ear is just as disorienting as his misdirected anger. He's been gone on his trip for almost two weeks and you had no idea he'd be back today. Definitely didn't know Toji would come home upset. It's you who should be angry at how he's behaving but apologies bubble from your lips instead, even before you know what's going on. "Shut the fuck up. Not gonna let you play that innocent shit with me this time." Toji's hand leaves your mouth to reach around and squeeze your throat. Cock twitchin against your ass listening to you pant and whine. "Fuckin let him hug you y/n. What's next? Gonna let my son fuck you? Hm?" You shake your head no, scratching at his grip and gasping for air. "Lying fuckin slut. Know you want him. And there's no way he or any of those weaklings could ever resist you. So how bout this?" Toji's free hand slides over your ass, slapping each cheek before dipping lower to play in your slit. Your moist, and more importantly.. Hating yourself for starting to get wet. "I'm gonna fuck you in front of my son. Show him that he'll never get a taste of the best pussy that's ever gifted this wretched world. Then maybe I'll think about forgiving you." He leans back, using his grip on your throat to toss you on your back. It's then your able look upside down at see Megumi, bruised and gagged, tied to a chair. He stares at you, completely incapacitated. You know instantly he won't be able to esape himself. "Toji! Y-you can't! He's your-" Smack! Your head snaps to the side from the impact of his slap, tears welling up in your y/e/c eyes. Toji grabs your jaw and forces you to look back at him. "I can do whatever I fuckin want. You really got some nerve." He stands up and walks to the foot of the bed, snatching you up by your hair. Points his dick at your red cheek as he strokes nice and slow. Megumi weakly struggles to break free, wants to save you but feels so helpless. "Tell me your sorry- mmmfuck.. And I might not kill your little friend." "I'm sorry Toji! So sorry. Shouldn't have l-let anyone touch me.. Know better.." Toji speeds up his short firm strokes, moaning and pullin you closer to his cock. "And why is that?" "Cause I'm yours. Tojis p-property." "Good giiiirl!" Toji groans, slipping the head of his dick between your lips and cumming with a grunt of your name. Thinks he might've cum more than usual when he notices how hard Megumi is. Wonders if you notice. Then again, how could you? You're too busy pressin your thighs together, clit throbbing as he spurts across your tongue twice. Then Toji"s pullin out, huffin as he finishes nuttin on your face. Three strong blasts that shower you in thick white drops. Both men groan at the sight, the latter leaning to kiss and lick at your lips. Megumi is so torn: wants to save you from your vile boyfriend but so entranced with your absolute submission. You on the other hand are burning with shame, cum dripping from your face to the sheets. Not at all surprised when Toji's nasty ass sucks some up and spits into your mouth. "Hold it. Lemme see.. Good girl. Now, before I fuck you.. Go give your BFF a nice sweet kiss." He's pure evil, smiling sinisterly when you get up without a word and make your way to Megumi. He's lookin up at you with wide eyes, swallowing hard as his gaze drops to you cum slicked mouth. "Sorry, Gumi." You whisper, holding at his shoulders as you bend to press your lips to his gagged mouth.

[jupiter-letters]

Loki having a crush on you headcanons:

Fem!Reader or GN!Reader TW: Very brief discussion of violence.

A/N: This will be Avenger!Loki cause I choose to be delusional about him dying in infinifty war. He made it to Earth and decided to make amends yadda yadda yadda, everything is good. Sorry if this long I needed to get all my thoughts out!🙇‍♀️

Being generally uninterested when Tony does a mission debrief with everyone in the conference room. However when you walk in he perks up a bit and sits up a little straighter. He doesn’t really greet you though, he’ll be a little closed off at first. That doesn’t stop him from glancing at you 2 or 3 times until the meeting is over.👀👀 No one really notices his staring but if they did they’d assume he doesn’t like you at first. 

Among other people it looks more like a glare than admiration, Thor does notice after a few times and pulls him aside to confront him. “Has Y/N slighted you in some way brother? You’re always staring at them with such intensity.” This confuses Loki cause #1 he didn’t think anybody would notice and #2 Sometimes he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. 

“No?? It’s this midgardian decor, so bland. It helps to move my eyes around to keep things interesting. When it comes to Y/N their choice of garment is most amusing, the lack of proper coordination is quite hilarious.” (LIES!)Deflect, deflect, deflect. To Loki it’s better for people to think he doesn’t like you than to seem vulnerable, he’s still got some growing to do. 

He won’t even realize that he likes you until much later. Once you get over the hump of him pretending not to like you, a beautiful friendship blooms. He hasn’t had a lot of people he’s gotten really close to other than Thor, his mother and Valkyrie. That’s one wall down, a couple more to go. As his friend you appreciate his witty comebacks and dry sense of humor. You confide in him for his many, many, mannnyy years of wisdom(he hates it when you call him old man wisdom). The fact that you choose to tell him your secrets and have such fun conversations makes things worse for him. 

When you two talk together on the balcony of the avengers compound discussing team mates and funny things that have happened around the compound, he gets this warm feeling in his chest. Looking at you laughing at your own joke, you can barely get the words out. Any other person would look ridiculous but you, he can’t help but look at you with such fondness. After you’ve stopped laughing you see him looking at you with such joy in his eyes and a soft smile. “What” you question. He chuckles and looks down at his hands, “Nothing, it’s just- you’re lucky you became an avenger instead of an entertainer, your jokes might need work.” 

He always saves you some food or a drink at Tony’s parties and other events, it’s always just a little bit but he just wants to make sure you don’t miss out. 💓

 Loki always goes out of his way to keep you safe on missions, if you get overwhelmed by multiple enemies you see a flurry of green magic crackling around you and the enemies are all gone. You could even see a dagger fly past your head hitting a guy about to clobber you over the head. Natasha seems to notice the favoritism after a bomb goes off in a HYDRA facility, Loki uses his body to shield you from the blast. (She knows good and well he could’ve made a shield for all 3 of you😏.) 

When both Natasha and Thor “gang up on him”(his words) about it he deflects again saying he’d do it for any of his friends you just so happened to be closer…so it’s not a big deal. They both smirk and give knowing looks to one another. Thor knows Loki better than anyone, he knows Loki values self-preservation more than anything and to do something so selfless even if he has changed a bit, he must really like you. 

Thor just hugs him and says “I’m happy for you.” and Loki is like ???? Everyone seems to know about his crush except you and him. But when he finally realizes he likes you romantically it hits him like a freight train. Everything feels so new after that moment, he has an existential crisis lollll. He’s always been a charmer, a smooth talker, silver tongued. Now he gets a little more nervous talking to you, when he sees you his heart races. It scares him how much he likes you, you make him soft. He values your opinion, he worries about you, he wants to make sure you’re alright. The thing he’s worried about the most is if you’ll like him back. 

Loki’s still got some self image issues, growing up second best and later finding out he’s a frost giant. In his mind his past and being a frost giant are perfectly good reasons to reject him. In the back of his mind there is a glimmer of hope stemming from your unwavering loyalty and kindness toward him. He can’t ask you to overlook the things he’s done but he does want to be better, for you, for everyone else.

Thanks for reading! Lemme know what you think. Please like or reblog if you like my stuff.

[hoodzgyal]

lmfao i swear im always early PLS

but speaking of lingerie..

imagine you buying a new lingerie set in nightwing’s blue and dick comes home in the middle of you trying it on just to rip it and fuck you senseless until you’re not even mad about him destroying at cause you know he’ll buy another🫶🏽

AND I LOVE U FOR IT IWNEKENEI UM UM UM SCREAMS OMG

you’re beyond excited to show dick your new set that finally came in the mail. it’s a tiny blue little number, with black lacing and a silver bird charm that looks suspiciously like his costume.

he’d walk into your shared apartment, eyes wide with wonder as he stares at you, marveling at your own body in the mirror.

“…is that what i think it is?” he’d tease, biting back the almost manic smile on his face, eyes flitting from your exposed arms, to your lace covered chest, then to the sinfully tiny, matching panties.

“what can i say,” you start, a teasing lilt in your voice as you caress his chest, “nightwing’s always been my favorite.”

,,,, he ripped the fuck outta your shit and bought you 3 more pairs. anywyas he takes this as an opportunity to fuck you in the suit.

[arkhamslvts]

OK OK OK HEAR ME OUT

Going out to dinner with jason, but bc the reader looks so good he ends up fucking them in the bathrooms ONLY to finish off back AT HOME

AAAAAAAAH i need him in me asap

OHHH ANON THIS IS TOOOO GOOD.

yeah yeah yeah anon you’ve got on a bodycon dress and it’s tight in all the right areas, and you’re giggling at his jokes and jason’s basically about to cum in his pants. he sends you a text telling you to go to the bathroom and wait for him. and he bends you over the bathroom sink, hand clamped over your mouth as he’s fucking you like there’s no tomorrow. n he’s all “shh angel, just lemme fuck you right.. let me fill you up” but he doesn’t let you cum, he leaves you full, practically dripping out of you. he said you shouldn’t cum now, not right now, in that little bathroom, you look too good and you deserve to cum properly, with your face shoved down into the pillow, in the comfort of your own home.

[slut4hee]

bésalo, que este pussy es tuyo tu eres mi papi, lo digo con orgullo😩💋💦 fuck need him in my guts

[rav3nmuse]

Thinking about this man makes my kitty start purrrrin

[theepisceswriter]

WELCOME TO CLUB RENAISSANCE !

(Aka Stallion's return event)

ＣＵＮＴ ＴＯ ＴＨＥ ＦＥＭＩＮＩＥ ＷＨＡＴ， ＰＯＷ ！

OMGGGG, lovies I am SAUR excited to be back and share my creativity and world with you all and build off of the equally amazing ideas you have as supporters of my work. As an artist, having the inspiration and drive to write after not having ANY for so long means the world to me! So come help me spew out more content for yall!! And what better way to do it than a Beyonce themed event?

MASTERLIST (TBA once requests start rolling in)

HOW THIS EVENT WILL WORK

♡ Underneath the readmore tag there is an assortment of characters, tropes/situations (both sfw and nsfw), and even reader specifics to choose from annnnddd even wildcard options for you if there's anything I left out!

♡ You’ll choose a Drink (character), Beyonce Song (situations/tropes), and your favorite Yonce (reader specific).

♡ The characters listed are not the only ones available, all characters from the fandoms I have listed on my page are available! The ones listed are just the ones I get requests for the most or ones I’ve been having brainrots for lately 

♡ You can send in all sorts of combinations and be as vague or descriptive as you want to be. You can list multiple characters, multiple situations, etc, etc.

♡ For example: "Can I have a Long Island Iced tea, Cuff It & Energy, with Femyonce?", "Can I request Zeke Jaeger with the fwb trope and nb!Reader?" and even, "Can I have One night stand trope with Gojo after he comes home after being locked away for so long?" Whatever you want baby I got you!

♡ Enjoy grandma's babies !!!

♡ CMON AND GRAB YOU A DRINK BABY ! (Characters) ♡

Long Island: Reiner Braun

Margarita: Toji Fushiguro

Martini: Gojo Satoru

Old Fashion: Nanami Kento

Mimosa: Jotaro Kujo

Cosmopolitan: Dio Brando

Bloody Mary: Geto Suguru

Whiskey Sour: Jean Kirchstein

White Russain: Eren Jaeger

Daiquiri: Zeke Jaeger

Negroni: Gutts

Gin Fizz: Shigure Sohma

Manhattan: Levi Ackerman

Mojito: Erwin Smith

Lemon Drop: Shuu Tsukiyama

Sangria: Benimaru

Screwdriver: Leonard Burns

Mai Tai: Character of your choice!

♡ CHOOSE A JAM TO BOOGIE TO! (Scenarios/Tropes)♡

♡ CENSORED (SFW) ♡

ALL UP IN YOUR MIND: Yandere

KITTY KAT: Sidechick-type beat

NO ANGEL: Troubled!Reader

PRAY YOU CATCH ME: Cheating

JEALOUS: Jealousy

ALL NIGHT: Domestic themes (marriage, children, etc)

SORRY: Reconciling

ON THE RUN: Criminal!Reader x Criminal!Character

HEAVEN: Death

LOVE ON TOP: Fluff

MINES: Any trope to lovers

BEST THING I NEVER HAD: AU (coffee shop, modern, organized crime, etc, etc)

LOVE DROUGHT: Angst

HELLO: First date

BREAK MY SOUL: wildcard! A theme you think of that might not be listed

♡ UNCENSORED (NSFW) ♡

COZY: Cockwarming

ALIEN SUPERSTAR: Monsterfucking

CUFF IT: Overstimulation

CHURCH GIRL: Religion kink

PLASTIC OFF THE SOFA: Aftercare (can be sfw)

VIRGOS GROOVE: Friends with benefits

MOVE: Dominatrix

THIIQUE: Body worship (can be sfw)

PURE/HONEY: Onlyfans!Reader

SUMMER RENAISSANCE: One-Night Stand

VIDEO PHONE: Phone sex

IF I WERE A BOY: Pegging

6-INCH: Sex worker!Reader

SANDCASTLES: Hate sex

UPGRADE U: Sugar Daddy/Mommy

HAUNTED: BDSM

BLOW: Oral fixation

PARTITION: Car sex

DANCE FOR YOU: Striptease

ENERGY: Mutual masturbation

ROCKET: wildcard! A theme you think of that might not be listed

♡ CHOOSE YOUR FAVORITE YONCE ! ♡

Femyonce: F!Reader

Thugga Bey: M!Reader

Themyonce: Nb!Reader

Diversce (I thought of this one real hard): POC!Reader (you specify)

[scarletsverse]

as a wandanat stan, this makes me feel like i'm being crushed by the question, "who would you choose?".

my natasha 😭 i mean i get that she was being an asshole but she literally woke up from a HAND TWITCH. love is right there :'(

out of place

pairings natasha romanoff x fem!reader

synopsis you fall into a coma after the car accident, and natasha stays by your side while waiting for you to wake up.

word count 1.4k

warnings pure angst, panic attack, cursing, mentions of alcohol consumption, comatose, mentions of natasha’s post-traumatic stress disorder (ptsd)

author’s note i guess im making this into a series? <3 this chapter focuses more on natasha’s thoughts and guilt, poor bby :(

‘out of love’ series part 1 | part 2 | part 3

It could have been hours that Natasha knelt on the wooden floor after you suddenly left the house, or it could have been minutes. She honestly wasn’t sure how much time had passed. All she knew was that her heart ached. It was as if someone had reached into her chest, grabbed her heart, and thrown it across the room without any consideration.

She felt overwhelmed. The air felt thick and made it hard for her to breathe as waves of panic coursed through her. She lay in a fetal position, her knees to her chest and her forehead on the floor. Her trembling hands clutched at her chest, desperately trying to calm the racing beats of her heart. Her body could not stop convulsing as tears streamed down her face, blurring the surroundings around her. 

Every shallow breath she expelled felt painful, and she felt like she was anchored to the cold ground beneath her. It was as if the room was spinning, and the walls were closing in, trapping her in endless suffering. The ache in her chest mirrored the shattering of her heart.

How could I be so dumb?

Weighed down by the burden of her past, Natasha sought solace for months in the numbing haze of drinking in a bar. Memories of her childhood in the Red Room lingered and haunted her, a chapter of her life stained with regret and red in her ledger. She thought she had killed Dreykov in Budapest with the help of Clint, the puppet master behind the torment she had endured. But the recent revelation from Yelena that he was alive and still secretly operating the Red Room made her feel like she had failed, a weapon forged but unable to strike down the real enemy. Even after she had brought down the air fortress, the weight of guilt clung to her like a heavy blanket.

The events that had transpired after she had come home drunk had sobered her up quickly, and all she felt now was a hollow emptiness. Natasha felt like a complete asshole. She had taken advantage of your kindness and patience and trampled all over it because she took you for granted, and now she was all alone in the place she called home.

Home. It was merely a house, but the treasured memories the two of you shared with love and affection made it a home. Each corner held the remnants of a love story that had crumbled because of her selfishness, leaving her to navigate the debris of shattered dreams.

Once the waves of a panic attack passed, she craned her neck up to glance around her surroundings. The singular candle you prepared for the candlelit dinner was still burning on the dining table, illuminating the dark living room. Even with the blinds drawn over the windows, she could see outside enough to gauge that sunrise was coming soon.

How long have I been on the floor?

Unexpectedly, the voice of F.R.I.D.A.Y. shattered the silence as it echoed through the house. “Agent Natasha Romanoff. Please come to the Avengers Compound as quickly as possible.” 

Natasha groaned softly in response, slowly getting on her feet cautiously. Her knees and arms ached as she got her balance, a painful reminder of how she spent the whole night in an uncomfortable position.

Even when she chose to live separately from the Avengers, Tony Stark insisted he install F.R.I.D.A.Y. into the home for ‘extra’ security. A sense of unease gnawed at her. She rarely got an announcement from the A.I. unless necessary, such as an emergency or a last-minute mission.

“Did something happen?” She called out to the A.I., her voice cracking and hoarse from the crying.

“Y/N Romanoff is in the medical centre. She has suffered critical injuries from a car accident.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. replied promptly.

Panic surged through her body as she hastily dressed in more comfortable clothes, the attire from last night sticking uncomfortably on her skin. Thoughts of how badly hurt you were raced through her mind.

Shit. What have I done?

Natasha barged through the swinging doors of the medical centre in the Avengers Compound, her eyes surveying the all-too-familiar place. There were countless times when she had to prioritize tending to her wounds in the infirmary after missions instead of debriefing, as she was always someone to choose fight instead of flight when faced with opponents.

The place buzzed with the hum of fluorescent lights, and the antiseptic smell in the air nauseated her. She approached the first medical professional in her sightline, a male nurse.

“Bring me to Y/N Romanoff’s room, now.” She ordered, grabbing the nurse's uniform collar tightly.

The nurse’s hands struggled under her grasp, choking out. “Y-Yes, Agent Romanoff. This way.”

Letting go of his collar, the male nurse quickly led her down the hallways to your room, in fear of angering the assassin further. Her heart raced as she followed behind him, not prepared for how wounded you would look after the car accident.

As Natasha entered the room, her fears were confirmed as she saw you. You were lying on the hospital bed, pale and fragile, while hooked up to multiple wires and machines that monitored your every heartbeat and breathing. Your whole body was covered with bandages and bruises, and the sight of your unconscious body supplemented the guilt in her gut.

“Agent Romanoff, we’ve done X-rays, CT scans and an MRI of her body. She has multiple transverse fractures on her clavicle and pelvic bone. She’s suffered a traumatic brain injury from the car accident, and she’s been comatose ever since.” The nurse explained to her. 

Before she could respond and interrogate him further, the nurse quickly left the room. She huffed in annoyance. Ignoring the encounter with the medical professional, she slowly walked over to your side, sitting on the chair beside the bed. Grasping your cold hand, her index and middle fingers quickly found the pulse point on your wrist. Your pulse was weak, and the reality of your current situation settled over her like a heavy fog. 

Tears welled up in her eyes as she whispered. “It’s all my fault, Y/N. I’m so sorry. Please, wake up. I need you.”

Natasha needed you. Without you, she felt lost, like she was swimming in an endless sea. She felt like her world had become grey, suspended between hope and despair. Her thoughts were a chaotic whirlwind, a tempest of emotions she couldn't escape. She traced the contours of your face with her eyes, as if trying to memorize every detail, every curve that made you uniquely you. All she could do was keep apologizing and hoping you would wake up to forgive her. 

Days turned into weeks. Everyone in the Avengers had come and gone to visit you, wishing you ‘get well soon’ and hoping you would wake up soon. She was grateful that Nick Fury gave her a break from missions to allow her to prioritize and focus her attention on your well-being.

Wanda and Natasha took turns taking care of you while you were in a deep coma. Even when she knew about your past romantic relationship with the other redhead, she trusted her the most amongst all the other Avengers to be by your side when she had other matters to attend to.

As the days passed, Natasha felt a deep loneliness that only your awakening could dispel. She clung to the glimmer of hope that each passing moment brings you closer to rejoining her. With every conversation with the doctor telling her of your body recovering well, her heart swelled with optimism, and she found simple solace in the gentle rhythm of the rise and fall of your chest.

Through sleepless nights and tearful meltdowns, she was unwavering in her commitment to remain a constant presence by your bedside until you woke up. She was like a silent guardian amidst the sterile environment. When alone with you, Natasha would talk mindlessly to you, sharing stories of what she had done that day and expressing the depth of her love. Even when you were unconscious, she would greet you every day with an ‘I love you’. She read your favourite books, played your favourite songs, and whispered words of comfort, hoping you could somehow hear her and await your return through the power of love.

And then, one day, as the first rays of dawn bathed the medical room in a warm glow, you stirred. Natasha was sleeping when you came to, and she immediately woke up when she could feel a twitch from your hand intertwined with hers.

Your eyes fluttered open slowly, a whine leaving your throat as you met her tear-filled gaze. A wave of relief washed over Natasha, but your eyes widened in panic and alarm as you saw the redhead in front of you.

“W-Who the fuck are you? And where’s Wanda?”

‘out of love’ series part 1 | part 2 | part 3

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[sehnsuchts-trunken]

So Much Love in Oklahoma

Tyler Owens x fem!reader  7k words

summary: Tyler saves you from a tornado one day. The next, he shows up at your doorstep.

a/n: absolutely no clue about tornados. or oklahoma. don't come at me for inaccuracies

also!!! i'm currently working on some tyler smut too, but you are so definitely allowed to come request things (or just talk to me)! my inbox is wideeeee open, especially when it comes to mister owens <33

masterlist | twisters masterlist

What happens that particular Tuesday afternoon should have been impossible. That's what goes through your head about a bazillion times in the following days. The chances of what happens even happening are about as close to zero, you think, as the possibility of you discovering a cure for cancer.

(They're not. Of course. But it feels like that.)

Because you're not even really in Oklahoma. You're just driving through Oklahoma. You're not from a place where they give you a 'How to Deal with Tornados' manual in school. You're entirely, completely, wholly unprepared for what's brewing as you drive down almost empty highways with the radio all the way up.

So when suddenly, you're in the middle of a storm, with the wind picking up until it drowns out your music and rain and hail slashing against your windows, you're absolutely terrified.

It forms within a few minutes, goes from barely grey skies to a horrible, horrible whirl of almost black clouds, and the insecurity you'd been feeling turns into the gut-churning realisation that you're unquestionably fucked.

Some part of your brain tugs out a deeply buried memory of cars being sucked into tornados on the news, so with your heart racing a few hundred miles per hour and your hands shaking so badly you can barely hold onto the steering wheel anymore, you maneuver your car onto the side of the road, just in time for you to be climbing out of the passenger seat as another car comes to a shrieking halt next to yours.

You're getting drenched within half a second, you're honestly not that sure whether your cheeks are wet from the rain or your tears, and on top of that, you almost trip as you set your trembling feet onto the ground below. The other car's driver bangs their door shut with a resounding thud that makes you flinch so hard you think your soul leaves your body. Your head shoots up as he shouts at you, already three steps away from his truck:

"What the hell are you doing out here?"

He's drenched, too - his hair sticks to his face and his shirt clings to his skin and his pants are stained at least a shade darker. But unlike you, he's not shaking, he's steady as a fucking rock, steady and quick, already reaching out for your arm before you can even begin to think. Your brain lags behind, foggy and cloudy and scared, so fucking scared. You're so terrified you can hardly open your mouth.

"I-", you stutter, then he's wrapping his big hand around your arm and tugging you away from your car, away from the road already.

"We need to get the fuck down!", he calls, pulling you with him onto one of those many, many fields that surround you. "There's a ditch over there, see that?"

You're wide-eyed, shaking, basically being dragged along by him - one foot in front of the other, that's what your brain's concentrating on right now, which is easier said than done. You trip over your own feet every other step. But the guy just wraps his arm around your waist and hurries further.

"Do you see that?", he asks again when you don't respond. Your mind races even faster than your heart does, but you force yourself to concentrate on his voice. The panic doesn't lessen, but his question shifts your focus. Ditch. Ditch. Not the storm raging around you, no, you're looking for a ditch. You're focusing on finding a ditch.

"Yeah", you breathe, your eyes finally catching on the ditch only a bit away.

"Yeah?", the guy shouts. "We need to get there. We need to get low."

With that, he picks up his pace once more and you stumble along, bumping into his side, watching the ditch come closer and closer and closer until your feet are drowned in dirty, muddy water.

"Alright, get down!", he shouts, unwrapping his arm from around your waist to help you into the cold, cold water. "Hold onto the ground!"

You aren't thinking. You can't think. Your brain has shut off completely. Panic numbs every part of you. All you can do, all you can possibly do, is concentrate on the voice of the man who's crouching down beside you. It's like his words have replaced your own thoughts, and like a marionette, you stretch out your arms and dig your fingers into the grass. Which is way easier said than done. You're pretty sure you feel one of your nails break as you try your hardest to find something, anything to hold onto. And then the wind hits.

If you'd thought you'd experienced heavy winds before, you were wrong. So wrong. No vacation in a surfer's town could possibly compare to this.

"Fuck!", you scream, instinctively dropping your head onto the moist grass below. The wind pulls and pulls and pulls at you and you imagine yourself being dragged by it - dragged away, away into certain death. But then an arm wraps around you, and the guy next to you is not next to you anymore but half on top of you, securing you in his arms, holding you close, pressing you to the ground.

"Stay down!", he shouts as you cling to the grass. "I got you."

I got you.

You replay that in your head like a mantra - he's got you, he's got you, he's got you. You're trembling, you're shaking, you're cramping, you're trying to hold onto the ground with all your might as the wind grows and grows and grows and pulls and pulls and pulls at you.

You want to scream. You think you're screaming. But it's so loud. It's deafening, the roar of the wind and the thunder. You can't hear yourself scream.

He can, though. He can. And he tightens his arms around you and repeats "I got you, I got you, I got you". And you believe him. You have to.

You're crying now, you're sure of that. Some part of you hurts. Maybe all of you hurts. You're scared. You're not just scared, you're terrified. It's loud, it's loud and it's everywhere, all around you.

And then suddenly - there's nothing.

It disappears within seconds.

There's no sounds. None. There's silence, deafening silence. Forget the calm before the storm - this is the silence after the tornado.

You take a few shuddering breaths. You're trembling, trembling from head to toes. You're soaked. You're cold.

"Alright, it's gone", the guy says - the guy that's still got his arms wrapped around you, who's still on top of you. "You did it."

He pulls his arm away from you and rolls onto his back next to you. Water sloshes around as he goes.

You don't move an inch.

You can't move.

You're stuck, you're frozen in place. Your fingers are cramped into the dirt and the grass and you're frozen.

The guy sits back up again and reaches out for you. He smooths his hand down your back, surprisingly warm against your ice-cold skin.

"Hey", he says softly. "You're okay. You can get up."

You pry your fingers from the ground one by one, flex your trembling hands and push yourself upright. It takes a few seconds for reality to sink in - you're in a ditch. In a ditch. You're soaked, soaked with muddy ditch water. Your shoes are drenched, your legs splattered with dirt, the hem of your dress soaked in brown. And you're cold. Ice-cold and trembling. And your legs hurt, your arms hurt, your fingers hurt. Three of your nails are cracked.

You're sitting in a ditch in the middle of Oklahoma and you'd just been through a tornado. A fucking ditch in Oklahoma and a tornado.

And a guy, a guy who's brushing his hand down your arm and eyeing you up.

"Alright, let's get you out of here, you're shaking", he says and for the first time, you turn your head and look at him. Actually look at him.

He's tall and he's blonde and he's drenched, too, drenched in that same dirty, muddy water as you. His hands are big, big and pleasantly warm as he grabs softly onto you and carefully maneuvers you towards him.

You don't really remember the next minutes. Not what you're doing, at least. It's a hazy, fuzzy passing of time - you barely remember that you're moving. You're cold and scared and still in shock and somehow, your eyes have locked onto him, onto this guy who you realise probably just saved your fucking life. Because when you come back to reality, he's wrapping a blanket around you - a dry, warm blanket - and the spot where you'd parked your car is empty.

Empty.

"My car", you whisper, staring wide-eyed at absolutely nothing. The guy wraps the blanket tighter around you before he looks over his shoulder and glances around.

"Your car's not that important", he reassures, even though his voice is heavy. Heavy and raspy, you realise. He's got a certain Southern twang to it that you hadn't noticed in all the chaos before. "Much more important is that you're alive."

You nod half-heartedly (he's right, some rational part of your brain shouts, while the practical part mourns the shit ton of money you'd just lost) and settle your eyes back on him.

You don't know what it is, exactly, but something about this, something about the warmth of the blanket and the way he's rubbing your arms, something about him, about his voice and his words, slowly peels away the layers and layers of terror that are clinging to your pounding heart.

You swallow hard, reach up to tug the blanket tighter around yourself and shift your focus. Not the car or the tornado or the fact that you're drenched in dirty ditch water - him. This guy in front of you, who's looking you up and down to check if you're hurt. It's easier that way. It's easier to calm down when you're not thinking about any of it. It's easier when you're staring at him, counting to ten, slowly regaining your sanity. And what's suddenly also easier is realising that this guy in front of you is very much easy to look at. Even though his hair sticks to his head, even though his jeans are stained brown. He's what you'd expect as a reference picture next to the word "handsome" in a dictionary.

All of a sudden, you're not as cold anymore. All of a sudden, you're rather flushed. Because if he's drenched and dirty, you must look about the same. And you don't think you want him to see you like that. You'd much rather meet him in a bar or something, when you're dressed up and clean and preferably not terrified.

"Thanks", you get out, a little too quickly as you tighten the blanket further around yourself. "For, uh, for saving my life."

The guy's lips quirk up and he grins, a lopsided, half-cocky grin that makes your heart leap.

"Anytime, sweetheart", he drawls, then reaches up as though he wants to tip his hat - just that he's not wearing one, so instead, he settles for brushing his hand through his hair, just a second too late to seem intentional from the start. "Why were you out here anyway? Half a mile back is a gas station with a basement."

"I didn't-", you start, hesitant to admit just how unprepared you'd been for what had happened. "I didn't know it was a tornado. I thought it was just a bad storm or something, I'm... I'm not from around here."

He nods at you, his lips already parting when you suddenly twitch away from him and sneeze - once, then twice. His grin has dropped by the time you look up at him again and excuse yourself. God, is this embarrassing.

"You need dry clothes before you catch a cold", he says, his eyes travelling down your soaked dress and your bare legs. "I've got a shirt in the trunk, give me a minute."

He walks towards the back of his car and opens up his trunk and you're hit with two thoughts at the same time. The first is more along the lines of goddamn, are his shoulders broad, but the second - arguably the one that should be more important - is why the fuck his car is still standing in the very same spot he'd parked it before the tornado had hit.

Especially when your car is absolutely nowhere to be seen. Your car and all your things inside it. Oh, god-

"Here you go", he says, holding out a dry copy of the shirt he's wearing, red checkered cotton. He's about to go on when you blurt out:

"Sorry, why's your car still... you know, there?"

His lips pull into that impossibly charming grin once more and he points at the underside of the truck.

"Tornado-proof", he explains, just the slightest bit cocky. You follow the invisible line he's drawing to two... what looks like giant screws? twisted into the ground below.

"Oh", you let out, not too intelligently - but really, what are you supposed to say?

He just chuckles and holds the shirt out for you again. You take it carefully, your fingers grazing his. He's so warm, so fucking warm. Meanwhile you're shaking even underneath the blanket he'd given you. Though that's also starting to get soaked.

"You can change in the car if you want", he offers, already pulling open the door to the passenger seat. You don't really have to think hard about it. You're drenched in the middle of nowhere, with no way to get home, and this guy has just saved your life. So you unwrap the blanket and give it back to him with a smile and a thanks.

It's tight and cramped inside the car, even as you roll the seat all the way back. You pry the drenched dress off of your body and only then remember to turn around and check if the guy is watching you (as handsome as he is, he's still a guy). But no, he's turned away, has his hands rested against his hips and is staring intently at the slowly clearing sky.

You turn back with a smile and get rid of your soaked bra, too, before you pull his shirt on over your head.

Damn, it smells good. He smells good. And it's very comfortable, you have to admit. Plus, it's dry, which is most definitely an improvement.

You take a few seconds to consider whether or not to pull off your shorts... but they're drenched, too, and the guy seems respectful enough to not risk a bladder infection for. So you take your shoes off, and your socks, and your shorts. And then you crack open the car door again and knock softly against the window.

"I'm done", you call out, loud enough that he can hear. He turns back and his eyes drag down your body - or what of it he can see through the open door - and even though he looks right back up at your face, you can't help but feel flustered. You ball your wet clothes up in your hands nervously.

"Alright then", he says, takes a step closer and reaches for the door handle. "You said you're not from around here, where were you driving?"

Ah, right, that part.

Honestly, with so much happening in so few minutes, you'd about blocked out everything else. Everything normal.

"My parents, uh-", you start, trailing off when you realise that's not much help for him. "About three, four hours from here."

"That's quite a drive", he chuckles. "I live maybe half an hour from here, how about I take you with me so you can eat and drink something? Maybe you can borrow a pair of Lilly's pants. And you could phone your parents."

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and you narrow your eyes at him, taking a second too long to even understand all of what he's saying before taking another second too long to sort how you'll respond. Then you start with what you find most important.

"I've got my phone", you tell him, pulling it out from where you'd just deposited it in the centre console. "I had it in my pocket."

You'd taken it with you more reflexively than consciously when you'd stumbled out of your car - but truly, what self-respecting adult didn't take their phone with them when they left anywhere?

The guy just raises his eyebrows and glances at your phone.

"And it still works?", he asks, a little incredulously.

"Yep", you smile - for the first time, you realise, since the tornado. "It's waterproof."

More because you'd been scared you'd drop the love of your life into the pool or the ocean on vacation, but a tornado in the middle of Oklahoma worked as well. At least you now knew you'd spent your money wisely.

"Smart", he grins. You can't help but grin right back.

He's charming and he's respectful and he looks so goddamn good.

"Who's Lilly?", you ask then, because that had been the second thing you'd wanted to say. He hesitates for a half a moment.

"A friend", he says. You squint at him. He doesn't look like he's lying, but he does look like there's something you don't know about. God, if he turns out to be a cheater- "I'll introduce you if you'd like."

You raise your eyebrows. Alright, so not a cheater. And, if you're interpreting correctly, another invitation to come with him. Not that you'd been about to refuse the first one.

"Sure", you say, as casually as you can. "I didn't really feel like standing around half-naked on the street anyway."

...

A few minutes later, he's driving his weird car/truck with the screws on the bottom down the empty highway. Though 'empty' is the wrong description, really - here and there, trees, road signs and utility poles are scattered on the pavement.

You're driving in silence. Well, silence as in neither of you talks, not as in actual silence. Alongside the motor, the radio had turned on, playing one country song after the other.

"You never told me your name", the guy says suddenly. The very much stranger, who's very much right - you'd never told him your name.

"You never told me yours", you counter, because that's also the truth. He'd never told you his name. You knew his friend's name, but not his.

"Didn't think I'd have to", he mutters under his breath, so quietly you barely catch it. "It's Tyler. Tyler Owens?"

He says it like it's a question. You don't know why. So instead you just answer with your own name and Tyler, as you'd come to know, repeats it with a smile on his lips.

God, you don't think it's ever sounded that good.

"Pretty name", he says, all casual like that doesn't get your heart racing again. Pretty. He'd called you pretty. Almost unconsciously, you brush your hands through your hair.

"Thank you", you mutter. As if to distract yourself, you add: "So, Tyler, what do you do?"

...

Exactly half an hour later, Tyler takes your hand in his and helps you out of his car. His house - the one he's sharing with Lilly, you'd found out, with Lilly and the rest of his Tornado Wranglers - is big and inviting. It's a little way off from any other houses, which you personally think is quite nice. Not that you say that, though.

Tyler walks you inside without having to unlock the door. He takes two steps, then he calls out "Guys, we've got a guest", which immediately results in a surprised shout of "whoops" and the sound of a set of feet scurrying up the stairs. Tyler has barely pulled off his shoes (after politely asking you to wait just a second) when a head pops through the doorframe at the end of the hallway.

"Boone was naked", the woman grins before settling her eyes on you and throwing you a wave. "Hey there, I'm Lilly."

She glances down at your bare legs.

"A little cold there?", she asks and even though her words are sarcastic, her voice is anything but.

"A little", you answer truthfully, smiling at her as she steps out into the hallway.

"You want a pair of pants?", she asks, seemingly without giving a single thought to who you are or why you're standing half-naked in her hallway.

You glance at Tyler, but he's grinning and only shrugs at you, so you turn back to Lilly and nod at her. She seems sweet, really sweet, and very kind. She takes you with her to her room (up two sets of stairs, the fucking house has three floors and a basement) and shows you her closet, the very definition of unbothered even as you nervously rummage through her clothes.

"Hey, you can take a shirt too, if you want", she says, flopping down onto her bed and rolling onto her side to look at you.

"Oh", you let out and glance down at the shirt you're wearing - Tyler's shirt, that very country, checkered shirt that's way too big for you. "I'm fine, thanks."

Honestly, if it were up to you, you would never wear anything else ever again. Tyler's shirt is soft and comfortable and - most importantly - it smells like him. You really just want to tug the hem up to your nose and breathe in his scent (but that would be weird, so you don't).

"Alright", Lilly drawls. "Your choice."

...

Lilly shows you the bathroom, gives you the wifi password and tells you to come down whenever you feel like it. You realise half a second too late that you haven't told her your name yet and crack open the bathroom door to call out for her.

Honestly, you like her. You really like her. And you really like Tyler, too. He's handsome and he smells good and he's respectful and he's nice and he saved your fucking life today. You don't even want to think about what would have happened to you if he hadn't driven by.

In the bathroom is the first time you can really breathe. You throw some water at your face and blowdry your hair. Ten minutes later, you're walking down the stairs into the hallway again - this time, when you stroll through there, you're wearing comfortable pants, fuzzy socks and take your time to look around.

You'd already called your parents back in the car with Tyler. They'd been about as shocked as you'd expected, had needed a few minutes to even understand just what you were telling them, but then they'd offered to come pick you up immediately. Tyler had provided them his address and now here you are - knocking at the open door to the kitchen, where all of the Tornado Wranglers sit around the table. All of them, except for Tyler, who's leaning against the countertop and looks up at you with a grin when you step in.

"Hey there", he drawls, his eyes raking down your body once more today - you've tucked his shirt into Lilly's pants and you could swear his eyes linger on your waist. "Warm and dry?"

"Very", you grin back, then nod at Lilly. "Thanks again."

She shakes her head and waves you off.

"Hey, no big deal. Do you want some pasta?"

...

It's comfortable there, in the kitchen of these strangers who are feeding you pasta and lending you clothes. You've settled onto the countertop next to Tyler and now and then, when you're dangling your feet or he's taking a bite, your legs graze his arm. He's changed into dry clothes too, you realise as you brush against him for the first time, and he's even warmer now than before.

"Tyler's told us all about you", Boone says after a few minutes of easy conversation. You raise your eyebrows and turn your head, staring at Tyler from the side.

"Has he?", you ask, because you hadn't even told him enough about yourself to warrant any use of the word 'all'. Sure, you'd talked on the ride here - but mostly about him, because - as it had turned out - what Tyler Owens did wasn't a normal job like doctor or lawyer, but instead professional Tornado Wrangler. Which, of course, had then dominated the conversation for the rest of the drive.

"Yeah, like how you were driving to you parents and didn't know what to do in a tornado so you just kept on driving", Boone grins, scraping the rest of his pasta off his plate. "And how he made you go in that ditch and-"

"Alright, shut up, Boone", Tyler interrupts, even though there's no real malice behind his words. "She knows the story. She's in it."

"I'm just saying", Boone goes on, entirely undeterred as he puts his now empty plate down on the kitchen table. "If you'd filmed that, it would go viral for sure."

You have to snort at that.

"Yeah, because of all the indecent exposure."

...

When your mother rings the doorbell three hours later, you're in the middle of the second round of a boardgame Dexter had pulled from a drawer. You'd been paired with Tyler for the first round and - somehow not surprisingly - that had worked quite well. You'd won just so against Dexter and Dani (Lilly and Boone hadn't been too much competition) and Dani's "We never get to play this right 'cuz we're always five people" after Tyler had high-fived you with a victorious cheer had warmed your heart. At least they'd enjoyed themselves - at least you hadn't been a burden.

"I call dibs on her", Lilly had declared when the second round had begun, so Tyler had teamed up with Boone instead.

"Oh, oh, botany!", you call out, just as the doorbell finally rings. Lilly jumps up and high-fives you.

"How in the hell did you guess that?", Dani asks, sounding all but exasperated at this point as Tyler pushes out of his seat and walks towards the front door. You shrug.

"Pure talent", you joke, then you climb off the couch as well. "Alright, it was so nice meeting you all, but I think my taxi's out front."

They all hug you goodbye and tell you to come around again anytime - Boone even hands you one of those t-shirts Tyler had told you about in the car. You can hardly hold back a snort. Though Tyler had told you about the shirts existing, yes, he must have accidentally forgotten to mention that his goddamn face is printed on them, paired with the very... comedic phrase "Not My First Tornadeo".

You thread through the hallway with the shirt and your phone in your hands, only to be hit with the sight of Tyler hugging your mother on the doorstep. Or your mother hugging Tyler, more like. Either way, you're suddenly frozen in place.

But then your mother opens her eyes and sees you standing there and she lets go of Tyler with a sharp cry to come running at you instead. She throws her arms around you with so much vigor you're almost knocked off your feet. You meet Tyler's eyes over her shoulder - crinkled with lines of laughter as he smiles at you. Your eyes dart away again just as quickly.

"It's fine, mom, I'm okay", you reassure.

"Yeah, thanks to Tyler", she mutters into your hair. "I already told him we'll pay him whatever he wants for saving our daughter."

"And I already said I don't want any money", Tyler clarifies.

...

The next morning, you wake up comfortably late in a warm bed. You walk down the stairs in fuzzy socks and start the day with a simple cup of tea.

A simple cup of tea and Tyler Owens' YouTube channel.

You'd looked him and his Tornado Wranglers up the very second you'd sat down in your mother's car. Then you'd subscribed to every channel you could find. And then... you'd kind of got obsessed. You'd watched so many of their videos that by one am, you'd simply fallen asleep to one of them.

"Aunt May's gonna be here in half an hour", your mother informs you casually, a stack of plates in her hands as she rummages around in the kitchen. You're still sitting at the table in your pajamas, a spoonful of cereal in your mouth, your phone propped up against a water bottle in front of you, playing a Tornado Wranglers video from a year ago.

"Seriously?", you get out, chewing on your cereal before you can swallow it down. "Mom, I still have to shower and get ready and all."

She throws you one of those eyebrows-raised glances that immediately let you know she's judging you for something.

"We only let you sleep this long because you almost died yesterday", she says matter-of-factly, then she eyes your phone. "And if you weren't watching Tyler's videos so obsessively, you would be done by now."

"Really, mom?"

You let out a resigned sigh. She only shrugs and grins at you. She's a little bit right, anyway.

"He's good-looking, I get it", she says, then she strolls out of the kitchen, chuckling to herself while you curse at her. He is good-looking, fuck this. You need to get it together before the rest of your extended family arrives.

...

The doorbell rings for the umpteenth time that day, just as you step out of the bathroom and smooth down the front of the red-checkered shirt you're wearing. You call some version of "I got it", down the hallway, not too sure if anyone even hears - they're all in the backyard anyway. Then you open the door with a smile on your face, a smile that instantly pulls into a wide grin when you see just who's standing there.

Because it's not another aunt or uncle or cousin. It's no one in your family, not even close.

It's Tyler.

Tyler Owens.

"Hi", he says. Just that. Hi.

You lean against the open door and cross your arms. Your grin only grows.

"Hi", you echo.

His eyes rake down your body and it seems like whatever he'd wanted to say gets stuck in his throat as he realises that the shirt you're wearing isn't your shirt, really. You can't help but bite down on your lip.

Look, you hadn't expected this. You hadn't expected him. None of this was a scheme or a plan or anything even close. You'd just seen it lying there this morning, right next to Lilly's pants on your desk, and you hadn't been able to help yourself. It smelled so fucking good.

"Nice shirt", he grins, eyes snapping back up to yours.

"Thanks", you grin back. "I got it from this guy after he saved me from dying in a tornado yesterday."

Tyler chuckles.

"Seems like a great guy."

"So great", you agree. "Even though he prints his face on t-shirts."

Tyler is just about to retort something - all toothy grins and laughter lines - when your mother calls out his name, very obviously pleasantly surprised as she comes down the hallway. She smiles at him, big and wide.

"What are you doing here?", she asks, stopping next to you to ask the very question that had been on the tip of your tongue too when you'd opened up the door.

"Oh, I'm just bringing these back", he says and holds up his hand to show a stack of neatly folded clothes with your bra right on top. You have to bite down on your cheeks to stop from outright grinning.

Okay, so even if wearing his shirt hadn't been a scheme, and even if you hadn't expected to see him... You might just have done something to ensure you would see him again. But hey, he's about the most handsome man you've ever laid your eyes on, you'd be damned if you'd have to watch him on the screen of your phone for the rest of your life. So yeah, you may have accidentally 'forgotten' your wet clothes in his bathroom after you'd hung them over the heater to dry. You just hadn't thought he'd find them so quickly.

"And you drove four hours for that?", your mother asks, more baffled than you are. Tyler only shrugs. Your mother reaches out for your clothes, grabs them from him and puts them on the cupboard in the hallway. Then she looks at him.

"You're coming in, yes? We're having barbecue now and cake in a bit. I'm not letting you drive four hours here just to deliver her clothes."

...

Twenty minutes later is when you get Tyler alone for the first time. Your mother has schlepped him with you through the whole garden and introduced him to every single person there - "He's the guy who saved her yesterday!" (because, obviously, your story had been about the only topic anyone had talked about so far) - your father first and foremost, who hugs Tyler so tightly that for a moment you're afraid he'll break him.

You catch up with Tyler just as he finishes loading his plate with food, finally on his own after your mother has excused herself to go cut up more bread.

"How'd you find me?", you ask, sipping at your ice-cold coke and eyeing him up. It's the one question that had been burning in your mind for the past twenty minutes. How in the hell had he managed to find you? It's not like you'd left a note with your address next to your clothes (though in hindsight, you don't remember how you'd meant for him to bring them back to you).

He looks almost bashful for a second.

"Boone noticed you'd followed our account", he explains then. "He figured out your last name from your handle and searched the phone book of the city on your mom's license plate. And then he read out all the names until I recognised your mom's because she'd introduced herself to me yesterday."

Your eyebrows raise, further and further the more he speaks. You swallow. Silence falls for a second, then two.

"You know, some people would call that creepy", you say, but your lips tug up into an involuntary grin that gives away more quickly than you'd wanted that you aren't one of those people. Tyler grins right back at you.

"Personally I think it would've been more creepy if I'd kept your bra."

...

It's 9:20 when your mother comes over. You've long since switched from barbecue to cake, then to snacks. Your feet are tucked underneath Tyler's legs, propped up against the side of his garden chair and he's running his fingers up and down your calves.

You'd spent the afternoon chatting away and laughing, barely talking to anyone but him. Your 'family get-together' had turned into more of a date. You certainly aren't about to complain, though.

"Tyler, you're staying the night, right?", your mother asks, a fresh plate of chips in her hands that she puts next to the almost empty one on the table in front of you.

"I don't want to overstay my welcome", he says, all gentlemanly even as your mother rests her hands against her hips and stares him down.

"Young man, you're welcome in this house any time, for however long. I'm not letting you drive home four hours. You're staying the night." Then she points at you. "She's still got a couch in her room that you can sleep on. I'd offer you a guest room, but half the family's staying here and we're already out of air mattresses."

So an hour later, you're rummaging about your room, picking up clothes off the couch and stuffing them in your closet to make room for Tyler. He's leaning against your doorway, looking around, taking in the mess that is your childhood bedroom.

"Nice posters", he says, and you throw him a look over your shoulder that could be deadly. He's grinning all sarcastic, only chuckling as his eyes meet yours. "You could put up one of my shirts here."

You have to snort at that and before you can even really think about it, you've pulled the shirt Boone had given you yesterday from where you'd put it down on your desk. You throw it at him carelessly and he catches it with no effort at all, which - paired with that fucking grin - shouldn't be as attractive as it turns out to be.

"Knock yourself out", you say, then you turn back around to your closet and tug out bedsheets for him. "My old poster glue should be in one of the desk drawers."

You don't think he'll seriously do it, but you seem to have misjudged him. Badly. Because he gets to work immediately.

You watch him for a few stunned seconds before you decide to just leave him to it. So while you turn the couch into a makeshift bed for him, he glues that goddamn "Not My First Tornadeo" shirt to your wall.

"Fits perfectly if you ask me", he declares eventually, barely concealing the amusement dripping from his words. You smooth down his sheets before you look up at your wall. He's put the shirt up in one of the few empty spots, right between your Maroon 5 and Destiny's Child posters.

"Yeah", you snort. "Perfectly."

You give him a toothbrush and let him use your bathroom. While he's gone, you change into your pajamas, fold his shirt carefully and put it on a pile with Lilly's pants and her socks. Honestly, a little part of you already mourns the loss of it - but another part of you already has hope for another shirt. Maybe in a different context.

"What're you doing?", Tyler asks, shutting the bathroom door behind him. You don't look up as you fold the other clothes you'd thrown onto your desk yesterday.

"I put Lilly's things and your shirt there, you can take it back tomorrow", you explain, starting a second pile of your own clothes next to his.

"Keep my shirt", he says. That finally makes you look up at him.

Which isn't a good idea. Not at all. Because he's standing there in nothing but his briefs and good fucking lord-

You'd known he's handsome. You'd known he's broad. But you hadn't known he's fucking ripped. You shouldn't stare. You're very aware. You definitely shouldn't stare. It's incredibly rude to stare. It's very inappropriate to stare. But goddamn, this man is built so perfectly god himself must be jealous.

You have to forcibly blink yourself back to reality. You're definitely red in the face when you finally manage to meet his eyes again. And he's raised his eyebrows in a way that tells you he's reading your every emotion right off your face.

"Sorry, come again?", you croak out, brushing your hand through your hair and realising just a second too late that your eyes have travelled down too far again.

"I said you should keep my shirt", he repeats, a very, very obvious grin on his lips. "It looks better on you."

"Okay", you agree, a little too quickly. The heat in your cheeks comes from more than just the half-naked view of him now. He thinks his shirt looks better on you. You don't even care if that's a line. "I'll... I'll go brush my teeth real quick."

When you come out of the bathroom a few minutes later, Tyler has made himself comfortable on your couch. It's a little too small for him, you realise, but he doesn't seem bothered. He's pulled the covers up to his hips - you can still stare at his chest, to your delight. And he's put one hand under his head, flexing his bicep in a way that has you hurrying over to your own bed so you won't jump him right then and there.

"Alright, goodnight, Tyler", you breathe, adjusting your pillow and wrapping your blanket around your body as if grabbing at it will somehow ground you.

"Goodnight", he echoes, and then you turn off the light.

It's quiet. The only noise is the laughter of your family a floor below, all settling into bed themselves. It's quiet and it's dark.

And you're staring wide-eyed at absolutely nothing.

Oh, god. He's so fucking hot. He's so fucking hot you want to throw yourself out of the window. He's so fucking hot and he's on your fucking couch, barely ten feet from you. He's so fucking hot and he'd driven four hours here just to bring your clothes.

"Tyler", you say, barely two minutes after you'd turned the light off. He hums in response - still awake. You don't know what you'd expected. "Thanks again. For, you know, for everything."

"Anytime", he replies, and even though you can't see his grin, you imagine you can hear it. You nod into your pillow. Then silence falls again.

It lasts maybe another two minutes.

"Your family's nice", he says then. You can't help but smile.

"Thanks", you mutter.

"I like your mother", he says. Your smile only grows. You turn onto your back and stare at the dark ceiling.

"She likes you too."

It's the truth.

Tyler stays quiet. You don't even try to close your eyes this time - you can hear him breathe, deep and relaxed. It's calming. You're sure it could lull you to sleep. If you were anywhere near tired, that is. This way, you just blink at black nothingness.

"Were you really a Destiny's Child fan?", Tyler asks eventually, his sheets rustling.

"Yep", you say.

That's it for that conversation.

You don't know what it is, the darkness or the silence, but something pushes on your chest and weighs you down, warming your skin as it settles on your body. It's a tension, thick and heavy, one that had grown with every scrap of conversation.

"You know-", he starts again, but this time, you've got enough.

"Tyler", you interrupt, turning onto your side and pulling your covers with you. "Get up here."

You can't see him as he throws his bedsheets off himself, can't watch as he heaves himself up, can't look at him as he strides over to your bed - but you hear the rustling of his covers, you hear the couch creaking, you hear his steps on the floorboards. And you feel the mattress dipping when he finally sets his knees on your bed.

You don't wait until he's actually in there. You don't think you could possibly wait until he is. You just push yourself up, grab onto the first part of him you can get your hands on (his shoulders), cup his face in your palms and pull him into you.

Right into your kiss.

Tyler Owens kisses you for the first time in the darkness of your childhood bedroom. For the second time in the morning light in your bed. For the third time in your parent's kitchen, right as your mother walks in. For the fourth time in his truck, after your parents all but throw you out of their house and force you to go home with him. For the fifth time in front of his own house, where his crew watches through the window.

And after that, Tyler Owens loses count of just how often he kisses you. Because he kisses you every day for the rest of his life.

[gamblersdoll]

cw: mocking, humiliating kink.

“yeah, yeah? you like getting fucked stupid, nerdwhore?” he mocks so mean, slamming his hips into your cunny. he smirks, canines bare as he watches your eyes cross.

you nod, gritting your teeth. your tits bounced every thrust, he had to been putting all of his weight into them.

“can’t hear you?” he snickers, angling his dick just a little so he can get deeper, hitting that foreign spot that is never really touched.

“yes! god, fuck yes!” you cry, struggling to keep your legs up and spread.

“there you go, keep saying how much you love it.” guts snided, whipping his phone out and pressing record. he wasn’t aiming it at you, but you knew what the fuck he was doing. “say it again.”

“i-i love it!” you choke, squeezing your eyes shut as he pounded your walls to oblivion. fat glob of tears rolled over your heated cheeks, him previously slapping them with only one third of his strength.

“say it again.” he commanded, tweaking at your nipple and grinding his tip into one spot that you would definitely become a squirting mess.

“i love it!!” you squeal, his pulling himself out and rubbing your clit fast. you heard the splash against his hand, and his mean laughter followed. “please!”

he slide his ring and middle into your drenched walls, finger fucking them into you as he got nose to nose with you. “say it again.” he says low.”

“love it, love it, love it!” you whine, him forcing the eye contact and holding his mean snickers.

you clicked on his close friends story, the green ring on his profile circling just a bit, and you hear it, your moans. but the music playing over it muffled it just only a bit. guts hadnt recorded any of your faces, nor your bodies. but luckily, no one knew what you really sounded like, so it all remained a mystery..

who was guts fucking?

you and him only knew the answer.

and the caption read.

“her pretty ass moans.”

[jaylalolz]

❛ 𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐓 𝐏𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐈 ❜ . . . nicholas chavez

INNOCENT!reader x EXPERIENCED!nicholas 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

SUMMARY, losing all her innocence in the backseat of nicholas’ car.

A/N, based on addison rae’s song🤍🤍

WARNINGS, smutttyyy

He held her head firmly in place and gave her a sloppy kiss up her neck and to her jaw. He throws her shirt over her head, grabbing the bottom of it. His finger instantly releases her black bra and tosses it aside. He lowers his head and attacks her breasts with his pink lips. She knotted her fingers in the back of his head, letting out a sigh of relief. Her skin was getting hot from his breathing against how sensitive her breast was. She squeezed her eyes tight as he moved his mouth to the other breast while holding her lower back with his hand.

The sound of their heaving breaths filled the car as he became extremely sharp. He delicately sucked on the skin as he moved his tongue up her neck. He falls over, bringing her down with him as he falls backwards. He retreated from her and grasped her skirt, guiding it down her legs. For his benefit, she just so happens not to be wearing underwear.

He throws away her skirt and moves back up to kiss her, taking a big breath as he does so. He ran his hand up her thigh and rested it in her hips as she cupped his cheek. Her gut thump and her core aches as he began grinds between her bare legs. She begs, "Nick, please," wanting nothing more than to feel him completely.

"Eager?" He gives her a quick peck and says with amusement. She can't keep motionless under him and nods wildly. He licks the tips of his two fingers while staring her in the eye. He then puts his hand down and pushes the same two fingers inside of her. He presses his fingers into her with such force that her lips separate and she struggles to keep her eyes open.

Her back curved as he swiftly worked his lengthy fingers. He watched, sat up between her open legs as if he were going to be tested on her features . "Fuck I love watching you like this." Leaning closer and kissing her lips. With a swift motion, he slides his fingers down his tight boxer underwear, revealing his cock. He removes the final item of clothing from his body and leans in to give her another kiss.

They give one other a brief, violent kiss before he slides down her neck, making her go crazy. She grips his biceps as he gives her a hard neck suck that forces her to bite her lip.

He thrusts his hips into her without thinking twice, causing her to gasp and naively take hold of him. Her legs remained extended, a sigh of relief trickling from his mouth into her throat. He begins to rock and becomes softer than normal. she moans as he meets her hips at every push.

"Shh." He soothes.

He was grunting so softly that her back was arching. As he rolled her legs into his, she encircled his well-defined hips. He rests his forehead on her, keeping his hand on her mouth. As he thrust his body into her, causing her body to rock beneath him, his staggered pants were deep. Every time he pushed into her body, her weak legs collapse off his back, and her feet trail after his flexing thighs. She felt herself wanting to scream as he slid into her exposed legs.

She whimpered, "Please," into his hand, earning a shush from him. He plants a kiss on her lips as they both inhale deeply.

She pushed back his left shoulder as she stood up, swiftly turning them around so that she was now in the lead. She's not sure what possessed her, but it felt instinctive. His eyes widened at her power as his back struck the backseat cushion. She began to bounce on him, investigating the new angle that made her want to cry out yet kept her from doing so.

With a soft moan, he threw back his head and grasped her hips as she rested her hands on his chest. Every time she sat back down on him, she felt a spark of ecstasy rush up her veins as her head lowered to the side of his neck. She was losing strength rapidly, and they were both panting and sweating as softly as possible.

Her legs were shaking, the pressure in her stomach so heavy like she going to hit her high any moment.

Sucking and sliding his tongue over the bitter skin he generates, his lips clamped down on her skin beneath her ear. Sweat was pouring from their bodies, and she felt weak from his hips' harsh rhythms. Then he begins to thrust into her, hard and deep, causing her legs to tighten around him and her head to be thrown back.

The steamy air thickened with passion and lust as they heard the sounds of the car shaking and their heavy pants filling the area. Her voice is full of whimpers and whines as she feels like she's almost done, and she knows he is too because of the way he stops kissing her neck and starts swearing more frequently. "I love you," he says, putting his head back and aggressively rocking into her.

She instantly tangles his hands in his thick, untamed hair as soon as he releases her grip. She screams, "Nick!" and causes him to cup his hand over her mouth. He pants and rams her, grinning, "Shhh baby, don't want anyone to hear." She wants to scream, but she keeps closing her eyes and instead screams into his hand.

She screams out into his palm when he pushes her over the edge because each hard push catches her at a different area .She felt exhilaration burst into her system and squinted her eyes tight. His climax is also reached by her as her entire body tenses and her fingers take a death grip on his hair.

"Fuck!" Freezing inside of me, he yells with a moan. When they release, her back arches and his muscles tense. He continues to hover over her, lowering his head, with his lips parted and eyes closed. She briefly lost the ability to hear anything but their pants before gradually regaining it.

His hand slides out of her mouth as all she can see is the fogged-up car. her eyelids feel heavy, her body worn out as he rests his head on in the crook of her neck.

“I love you more”

[cardierreh15]

Daaaaamn

“Please baby can’t take no moree”

Of course Miguel didn’t care how much whined and pleaded he wasn’t done with your punishment at all. You decided to pull a little stunt by being to touchy with Hobie while at a meeting with the rest of the spidermen.

He gripped your thigh pushing your leg up by your ear and thrusting impossibly deeper. Groans and moans filled the room as he quickened his pace. Between Miguel and the vibrator he held onto your clit you felt you could barely breath. It had been almost two whole hours and he still hadn’t let you cum yet. All over a little joke.

“Wanted to keep fucking around right, I told you the consequences but no you like to be a damn brat and couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. That’s alright you just need daddy to teach you how to be a good little slut and show you your fucking place.”

He bent down and leaned close to your ear

“And that’s right under me~”

[lalunanymph]

PAYBACK

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ when it comes to putting you back in your place, no one does it better than sylus

⋆｡°✩ tags: sylus x fem!reader, established relationship, d/ry humping, t/easing, s/ucking him off through his sweats, m/istress kink, whiny!sylus, r/estraints, b/dsm, o/rgasm control, t/ease and denial, dom!reader (for like, a little while) -> sub!reader, p/leasure dom!sylus, noncon (reader ties sylus up first), o/ral sex, petnames (baby, kitten, little dove), s/ir kink, b/egging, r/uined orgasm

⋆｡°✩ dawn says: SYLUS DAY TOMORROW !! may all the sylus wanters be sylus havers 🙏🏼 also tags were glitching on me so i had to change up the warnings format SORRY :')

"Hmm... what's this?"

Sylus blinks the sleep from his eyes to find you straddling his thighs, a smirk in place.

It's not like the Onychinus leader to ever let his guard down, but give the man a break—he's exhausted after trying to escape a raid last night.

And instead of letting him sleep, what does his precious little lover do?

That's right—she's got him all tied up to their bed.

His brows furrow, and he tugs on the knot, frustration growing alongside his respect. The knots were a solid 10/10; he could barely move if given a chance.

"Little one, what is this?" He tries to sound understanding, concerned, even.

You snicker. "What does it look like, Sy?" The pretty manicure you got on his card makes him pause. He barely blinks, taking in the sight of your hands sliding down his bare chest. He thinks the red and black combination suits you very, very well indeed.

Blood-red eyes narrow and his jaw ticks. "I would say you're playing with fire, kitten. Let me go—now."

It's an order—one you don't listen to.

"Say, Sy," you casually drape yourself all over him, enjoying his squirming. "Your neck is very sensitive, isn't it?"

Your finger trails from his jaw right to his jugular, hovering over the strip of skin.

"Shit, no," he cusses, flinching back from your touch. "Don't even think about it—"

Your lips replace your finger, trailing hot kisses down his neck. Sylus swallows down an embarrassing gasp, hands turning to fists above his head.

"Kitten, I'm warning you."

But, you don't listen to him—you never do.

Your mouth moves from his neck down to his chest, circling over his well-built chest. Your hair tickles him, trailing after your mouth that moves from chest to stomach down to his pelvis. So dangerously close to where he can feel you the most.

"Kitten, I'm serious here." His voice is a low growl, shooting a dirty thrill up your spine. "Stop teasing me and let me go."

You hum, moving your teasing little mouth to band of his sweatpants. Sylus' abs constrict the second he sees your naughty tongue lick a strip across his happy trail and he swears Devil horns appear on your head.

You grin, running your hand down the seam of his inner thigh.

"Sy," your tone is innocent, though a lustful demon is controlling you. "You're naked underneath those sweats, right?"

The 28-year-old underground leader is no idiot. He can tell when a kitten is itching to stretch her claws.

"Don't even think about it," he warns. Except, you're already doing it.

You touch the impressive bulge, proof that he was not immune to your teasing.

Oh, if only the Hunters Association could see you now. Sylus aches all over thinking about how he's gone off the deep end and ruined you—Linkon's shiniest Hunter—all for the sake of satisfying his dirty games.

The old you would never have found the guts to tie him up to his own bed and suck on him through his sweatpants. She would never have the nerve to be such a little slut.

But, he's changed you. For better or for worst, he can't decide.

Especially not right now when you straighten and he finally notices you in his black silk shirt, buttons sloppily done like a child did them, the too big collar slipping down to expose your shoulders.

Shit. An unwilling groan slips past his clenched teeth when you straddle his lap again and he sees you have no panties on. Fucking hell... she's out for my blood.

"Y/N," he growls your real name now, dead serious. "No more games. Untie me right this instant—fuck."

You grind down on his still clothed bulge, blinking your eyes innocently.

He growls, shaking his head. "I'm the one who ties you up. Or, have you forgotten, kitten?"

A tinkling laugh reaches his hot ears. "You sound like you're not enjoying yourself when this—" you reach for his dick and squeeze it, ignoring his hiss of pleasure. "—is proof that you are."

Oh. He narrows his eyes, licks his lips. You're going to get it this time.

But, your hand on him feels too good, and Sylus can't deny that a sick, twisted part of him is loving this.

His arms tense, tugging on the rope, his expression a cross between ecstasy and pain.

"If you beg me, I'll suck you off," you promise.

A hollow laugh. "Beg you? Beg. You? Shit, a-ah—no way. I'm not giving in. Not gonna give into you. I'm not—" He chokes on a moan. You're fondling his tip through the scratchy material. "Fuck. Fuck. Okay. Okay. Please?"

His voice goes quiet at the end, and you hum.

"Please, what?"

Sylus bares his teeth. No fucking way were you being dead serious.

You grin, twisting your wrist. "Say it, Sy. Please, Mistress."

His jaw ticks, glare deepening. You think he's going to give in—his surrender right at the tip of your tongue.

Suddenly, he starts to laugh. "Oh, Y/N. Sweet, sweet little kitten. You forgot something. Wanna see it?"

You stare at him in confusion, not sure what he's hinting at.

Sylus' smirk deepens, and he exhales another diabolical chuckle.

"You forgot to loop the tie, you foolish little Hunter."

Before your fast reflexes can kick in, his super fast ones have you pinned to the bed, beating you at your own game. The ropes you restrain him with are now around your wrist and you're tethered in the same spot you once had him in.

Pink dusts his cheeks, and Sylus is breathing hard like he's run a marathon. His frosty locks are a mess, but nothing is as terrifying as the sneer on his face.

It burns through you, leaving you breathless when he presses his face closer; you can physically smell the triumph radiating off him.

"What was it you said just a few minutes ago? Ah." His voice drops to a hush whisper; deep baritone caressing the shell of your ear as his hitched breathing teases you, drawing you deeper into the pit of your mistake.

Rubbing in your face how wrong you are for trying to play the master manipulator himself.

"Call you 'Mistress'? Make me beg? Oh, my little dove." He yanks the knots tighter and you yelp at the bite of pain. Sylus leaves enough room for you to wiggle around and make sure the blood still flows, though there's no other give.

Once again, you're trapped under him.

"I can smell your fear," he mocks, raising a brow. "It's so... addictive."

Returning the favor, Sylus nudges your chin up. "Lift your face up, baby. Lift it."

His mouth touches the nape of your neck, dragging towards your pulse point, your jaw, and back to your collarbones, leaving hot and wet kisses everywhere he can reach. Your sweet sounds are addictive, driving him crazy.

"You kissed me all over my body," he drawls in that seductive accent.

Another wet kiss on your shoulder. Sylus takes his time to unbutton the shirt you stole from him, humming under his breath. You flinch once your chest is exposed, and his smirk deepens.

"No way to escape for you now, kitten."

"Sylus, I'm sorry," you blurt out, but it's too late. He's already decided on your punishment.

"Tch." Clicking his tongue, he stands, looking ravishing in just his low slung, gray sweatpants. "I'll be back, little dove. Wait for me."

You can't see where he's disappeared to, only hearing him come back with more loops of rope.

"What's that?" you squeak.

"Nothing for you to worry," he hums, grabbing your ankle and fastening it with a round of rope, attaching it to the bed post. He does the same with your other ankle, and you're truly spread out for him with no way to escape.

Caught in his web you spun of your own stubbornness and greed.

"Sy—"

He shushes you, bringing a dark material right to your face and you tremble when you realize what it is.

"I told you that you have nothing to worry about, little dove," he murmurs, fingers working deftly to secure the blindfold around your eyes.

Darkness encases you, and you're tied to his bed, spread-eagle and helpless.

The bed dips beside you, and you feel the heat of his body hovering over yours.

"Now, what did you do to me a few moments ago, little dove? Oh, right." He grabs your face, tilting your head back. "You kissed me all over my neck."

His mouth resumes its carnal path across your sensitive skin, your hips bucking whenever a bite of pain from his teeth grazes you.

"My chest."

Sylus mouths at your collarbones, smearing hot kisses down your clavicles, over your breasts, stopping to suck and tease your nipples until you cry out in pleasure.

"Oh, I forgot how sensitive your sweet buds are," he murmurs huskily, pinching your nipples until they swell and throb. "What else did you do, hmm? Oh, yes..."

The marks of heat move down your body, right to your tummy; his kisses loud and lewd.

"Mhm, you kissed me right over my stomach..."

"Sy." Your whimpers draw another evil smirk on his handsome face. He can tell you're crumbling in real time. "Please."

You have no idea what you're begging for. But, Sylus hears you loud and clear.

"Don't worry, little dove. I won't tease you like how you teased me." His voice is magnetic, drawing you deeper into his web with his husky baritone and deep whispers. "Not... like... this..."

As he speaks, he caresses your stomach, loving how it flexes and twitches when he moves his touch right to your inner thighs.

"Do you want me to eat you out, kitten?" Sylus hums, and you fight back a shiver at the possessive undercurrent in his question.

"Yes," you admit, unable to help yourself. Your hips quiver, a moan falling past your mouth when he presses a languid kiss onto your inner thigh. "Yes, please."

"Please, what?" he taunts, drawing circles on your hips with his thumb. "Ask me nicely and I might oblige, little dove."

This is Sylus in his element—on top, domineering and controlling all the ropes. You have no choice but to give into him if you want to feel the barest hint of pleasure that he's holding back from you.

"Sir," you gasp, flinching at the bite of his fingernails digging into your plush thigh. "Please, Sir."

The second the word leaves your mouth, he's all over your drooling cunt.

Sylus eats you out in broad, languid strokes, focusing on your clit; using his tongue to play with it, bathing it with tender mouthfuls of praises and degradation all in one.

You wanna come, baby? Wanna mess up my face?

In another breath, he pushes a finger past your quivering pussy, curving it upward to hook on your softest spot. Your hips drive forward, a yelp perforating the heavy air.

No, kitten. You can't come. You can't—oh, fuck.

Sylus drinks in your taste, spreading your shaking thighs further apart. His broad palms trickle up your chest, cupping your heaving breasts and playing with your stiff nipples. He pinches them just as his tongue slips inside your tender heat, nose rubbing against your clit.

Tears stain the blindfold, your mouth hanging wide open in ecstasy. Sylus wishes he could paint a picture of you looking this wanton and needy.

You can't come, baby, he murmurs in between your folds. I won't let you. You've been such a bad girl. I'm gonna edge you until you can't think. Ah-ah. No cumming. No, no. He grounds you back down onto the mattress with those large palms, stopping you from grinding on his face.

I'm gonna ruin every orgasm you have—don't think I don't know when you're coming, baby. I know you. I can taste you. I know when you're close.

Your body is taut as a bow, teeth gritted and nails digging crescent indents into your palms.

Every time you climb towards the point of no return, Sylus drags you back down; backing away from your pussy, leaving you squirming and desperately writhing on the bed for minutes on end until your orgasm fades away—only to restart the entire process again from square one.

"Now you feel my pain, little dove?" He wipes your tears away, humming lowly. "It's not nice to tease people, isn't it?"

Point taken. You mumble his name, and twist your head as if trying to search for him. "Sylus, please. I wanna come."

Oh? This delights him. You're finally breaking down. You want to come, little one? Then, beg.

Your hips clip all needy against his, and your mouth puckers into a frown.

"Sy—"

He grabs your chin, holding you fast as his lips barely touch yours. Beg me.

Please. You lick your lips, tasting nothing but him. Please, Sy. Please, please. Make me cum.

He's back between your thighs, a fiend for your pussy. Sucking, licking, moaning and breathing deeply—it's erotic and obscene, salacious sounds bouncing across the walls. Your head is spinning, the entire room tunneling into one singular sensation of his tongue deep in your cunt.

Those slender, calloused fingers are back on your nipples, bringing you to the brink of insanity. You've bitten your lips hard enough to draw blood; your hips buck, and you're begging for him to give you a reprieve without a second thought.

Please, Sir. Please. Please make me come. I can't—I need it. I need you.

Yeah? A ghost of his chuckle caresses through your folds and you think he's going to relent.

Going to give you what you want, so you try again.

"Please?" You're so close it almost hurts. Your thighs are cramping, arms straining, back about to break with how tautly you're struggling in his restraints. "Please? Please, Sy. Please."

"Mhm," he murmurs, and you think he's going to give in. Finally going to let you climax after stringing you along for what feels like hours.

"No."

He kisses your clit as tears of frustration trickle down your face.

Sylus was never going to give you what you wanted—not when he already has you in the palm of his hand.

— scenario inspired by one of my fave y2f audios <3 feedback and reblogs are appreciated <333

©️ lalunanymph. do not copy, repost, or translate across other sites. do not copy my sentence structures, plot or characterization.