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sehnsuchts-trunken · 7 months ago

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(Don't You) Steal My Thunder

my tyler owens playlist 🤝 inspiring fic titles

Tyler Owens x fem!reader 7k words

summary: Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's set on getting you on his good side. And the more you get to know him, the less you can resist.

a/n: i had to research sm car stuff for this it's not funny. i now know exactly how to describe a truck bed though, so. that's fun.

again, my inbox is wide open <33 i don't guarantee anything, but you can always come talk to me or request smth

masterlist | twisters masterlist

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met.

He prints his face on t-shirts, writes his autograph on mugs, comes up with ridiculous sayings ("Not My First Tornadeo" and "If you feel it, chase it" are really just the tip of the ice berg) and most importantly, he costs you the best shots of tornadoes every goddamn time.

Tyler Owens is a problem.

And Tyler Owens seems to have actively decided to make himself a problem too.

Which would be fine, if he flipped you the bird or told you to fuck off or threw his paper towels at you. Unluckily, those are rather examples of what you have done to him. Because it's not fine, not at all - no, Tyler Owens has decided that it's not enough to be in your way all the time, he has to seek you out and rub your nose in it.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He's cocky and he's arrogant and he's entirely too full of himself. He brags too much and calls you "weather girl" too often. He gets under your skin more than you would ever admit.

And, as if all of that isn't enough - Tyler Owens is the very epitome of handsomeness.

It's like god didn't just have a good day when he created Tyler Owens, no, god must have still been in the post-haze of the best head he'd gotten in his whole immortal life when he'd created Tyler Owens.

Because Tyler Owens has the body of a greek god and the face of a Hollywood actor. He's not a pornstar, he's who pornstars worship. He's the Prince Charming little girls dream of and the Christian Grey grown women lust for.

Tyler Owens looks like everything you've ever wanted.

But he's just such a fucking asshole.

You wish you could say you didn't care. You'd love to be the kind of woman who didn't even acknowledge him. But you're not. You're not. You watch his videos when you can't sleep, you chuckle when you happen to overhear his jokes, you ogle his back when he's turned away from you. Sometimes, you get so lost in staring at him that you realise too late when he turns back around, and then you have to act unbothered when he grins his fucking grin at you. That's mostly when you flip him off, desperately fighting to ignore the heat in your cheeks.

Not like it stops him. You honestly feel like it only spurs him on.

Something has to seriously be wrong with him. It's not his face. But something is seriously wrong with him, you're sure of that.

Something has to be wrong with him. No sane person would ever go tornado wrangling. No hate to the rest of his crew - they're nice, you've managed to hold a few pretty normal conversations with them here and there - but none of them are sane either.

Storm chasing is different. You keep your distance. All you need are a few well-placed photographs - and those you can get from a rather safe number of miles away. The weather channel doesn't care about close-ups (not really, anyway). They want something to show the people on their comfortable couches, up in New Hampshire or Maine, so that all of them can say to each other "What poor folks, wouldn't wanna live there" and nod in pity as they switch the channel to watch another blockbuster.

You're just doing your job.

The only problem is that it's hard to do your job properly when there's always that fucking red truck in the way, driving down empty roads right into the heart of the tornado. And because no one on the news wants people to see that and go "Well, can't be too bad if there's still cars on the streets!", in the last few months - ever since you'd volunteered to move back to Oklahoma 'So that we've got someone right in Tornado Alley and don't have to fly people out there every time' - the weather channel has only shown the first few minutes of tornadoes forming. The rest of your pictures and videos lie abandoned in the trash file on your laptop. Except for a few - a very, very few, very, very good pictures of Tyler Owens and his Tornado Wranglers. But those won't ever see the light of day either.

You'd be damned if you let anyone know that while Tyler Owens is busy disturbing your actual work, you're busy taking pictures of him shooting fireworks into tornadoes. Pictures that would make for some damn good headers (if you hadn't buried them far, far down your gallery).

This time is no different. You get a few amazing shots of the tornado forming – surely an EF2, maybe even an EF3 - before you settle in the driver's seat again, your window rolled down and your camera hung around your neck as you push down on the gas. Then, a few miles further, you get even better shots of the full tornado, of the first few minutes of destruction, right there, in the middle of an empty field.

And as always, of course, just as the tornado takes on full form, you spot that familiar red truck through the lens of your camera. It speeds down the pavement right in front of where you’ve swerved onto the side of the road and you snap a few pictures, just because you’ve got the trigger right underneath your finger. Honestly, something about that dirty red paint against the grey skies just looks too good not to capture. But then the truck comes closer and closer and starts to slow down and you let your camera sink.

Tyler has his window rolled down already when he stops the car. There’s that annoyingly handsome grin on his lips, the one that makes you want to slap him across the face.

“You’re too far away, weather girl”, he calls out above the rumble of distant wind and thunder. “The good pictures are down that way.”

“The good pictures are right here.” You lift your camera at him. “Maybe you just need to update your equipment.”

Tyler’s grin widens, but before he can throw another of those obnoxious retorts your way, Lilly’s voice rings out through the car.

“Hey, T, looks like it’s changing course. You should hurry.”

His eyes are still glued to yours, still glued so firmly to yours that it makes your skin crawl. You can’t look away, couldn’t possibly look away. Tyler Owens might just be a cocky asshole, but you’re only human. And the weight of his gaze on yours is enough to keep you stuck in place, clutching at your camera.

“We’re on our way, Lilly”, he drawls without looking away from you. “See you around, weather girl.”

The rest of the pictures you take land in your trash file with all the other pictures of the last few weeks. You’re laying in bed, your laptop propped up against a pillow, the empty plate from dinner on the mattress next to you as you sort through today’s work. That’s the good thing about the time difference – you’ve got until seven to send the channel the day's results.

By nine, you’ve showered, put on a dress you feel confident in and settled on one of the chairs at the local bar. You’ve been telling yourself you need to get out a little bit more – you’ve been living here three months now and you haven’t really made any friends so far. To be fair, your job has kept you out and about most of the time. You’ve spent more hours at gas stations to fill up your tank than you have in your own home. But now you’ve decided to put an end to that. You're a young woman in a new town, you can meet more people than just the cashier at the local supermarket.

So for the past twenty minutes, you’ve been nursing a mojito at the counter and talking to the bartender. She’s nice, she’s your age, she’s extroverted enough to keep sidling up to you after every time she has to excuse herself to do her job. That, and she tells you she’s grown up here, so she knows most of the people around. She’s just serving another customer – a long-haired, brown-eyed, hat-wearing country guy who’s already shared a smile or two with you – when someone rests their arm on the countertop next to you.

“Didn’t expect to see you here”, he drawls, all low, deep Southern accent and you recognise his voice before you’ve even tilted your head up and looked at him. His grin drips down onto his words and wraps itself around your mind.

Tyler Owens isn’t just annoying – he’s unbelievable. He's unbelievable and he’s here.

“So you’re stalking me now”, you say, as drily as you can possibly manage. You've been doing that a lot around him. Dead-panning everything. Schooling your expression into fake neutrality.

"I'm here all the time, weather girl", he grins. "If anything, you're stalking me."

You snort, but it's rather unfunny when you think of all the videos you've watched, hours after they'd been livestreamed, cuddled up in your bed until midnight just to stare at his face. He's not that far from the truth.

"In your dreams, Owens", you say anyway, dragging your eyes back towards your almost empty cocktail glass. You wrap your lips around your straw and drain your drink entirely. What you say and what you do, none of that matters in the end. All of this is just show. Every conversation you've had with Tyler Owens in the last three months has been nothing but a performance. Other than your name, you don't think a single sentence out of your mouth has been honest. Not when it comes to him.

"Let me buy you a beer" is the only answer you get.

His grin widens when you look back up again - so cocky, so unbelievably cocky.

"I don't drink."

You push your glass an inch further down the bar top. Tyler raises his eyebrows. Fuck, someone really needs to kick him in the face. You can't keep having all these little heart attacks whenever he's close enough that you could touch him if you wanted.

Not that you want to.

"You're drinking right now", he says. You rest your palms against the bar top and blink at him.

"I don't drink with you."

He lets out a chuckle, one of those deep ones that settle right in your chest and make it hard to swallow.

"Just this once?", he asks and in all honesty, for just a second there, you actually consider giving in. He's too handsome for his own good. You really need to get it together. He's an ass (what an ass, goddamn). And he's insane. He's an insane ass. Sometimes you have to remind yourself of that - those times like now, when his piercing eyes and his kissable lips and his rugged stubble and his broad, broad shoulders and his drawled voice overshadow everything else.

"Don't you have some livestreaming to do?", you ask, hoping it still comes across just as sarcastic when you're the slightest bit distracted by how gloriously tight the sleeves of his flannel are. "Go chasing tornadoes, not me."

His grin widens inexplicably further. You're sure that if you were in a comic, there'd be a lightbulb flashing above his head right about now.

"Well", he drawls, "if you feel it..."

"Don't you do that shit to me, Owens."

He's raising his eyebrows again, raising his eyebrows as you clasp your hand around your empty glass so hard your knuckles turn white. But you're serious. Just as you'd lost yourself in the view of him, that angelic, sinful view of him, he'd gone and reminded you why you were so adamant to keep your distance. If you feel it, chase it. Ridiculous. Obnoxious. He's an arrogant, know-it-all, suicidal job-wrecker. He's the guy with cameras pointed at him everywhere he goes. He signs mugs and selfies and hats and shirts and bras. He's the reason you haven't gotten a single un-edited shot of a fully formed tornado in the last three months.

"You're not a fan of my catchphrase, weather girl?"

He can't even pretend to look wounded (even though he tries) with how big the grin on his lips still is. You stare right at him, dead-eyed and unflinching.

"I'm not a fan of you."

Lies slip off your tongue so easily by now that you wonder when you'd become morally compromised enough to not even care anymore. It must've happened somewhere along the way, sometime between the first conversation you'd had with him and the one you're having with him right now.

"You wound me", he grins, his palm pressed to his chest.

For the first time tonight, you allow yourself to grin back at him.

"I try."

With that, you slip off your chair and wave the bartender goodbye. You're already two steps away when Tyler calls after you.

"I'd still buy you a beer."

"I'm still not drinking with you", you call back. You don't turn around again. You just make your way back to your car and mark the evening as a half-successful night of socialising on your to-do list.

...

You see him again first thing the next day. Of course. Because there's no tornadoes without the Tornado Wranglers on their tail. By now, you're used to it. You wave at Dani as they come back out of the store at the gas station you're waiting at. They've got both arms full of coffees and for a second, you consider offering your help, but then you hear Tyler shout something out of his car and you suddenly don't feel any desire whatsoever to get up. You've sat yourself down in your truck bed, your camera slung around your neck and the radar on your lap. If all goes right, you're hoping for a tornado to form a little to the east from here. And as much as you dislike Tyler Owens, the fact that he's here soothes your nerves. Where he goes, there's sure to be tornadoes close by.

The few times you hadn't seen him had never ended well for you. You'd missed an EF3 your second week here just because you'd followed the wrong hunch. Meanwhile Tyler, of course, had been in the middle of it.

This might just be the one singular situation that you welcome seeing his red truck around. As long as you can manage to overtake him on the road after.

It's not that you need to be faster. You don't need to reach the tornado first. You don't even take the same way as him most of the time. He wants in there, you just want a sensible picture. Still, you can't help but feel a pang of disappointment every time you hit the brakes and jump out of your car, miles away from the actual cell as Tyler speeds down towards it. You've been telling yourself that it's because he ruins your pictures. It kind of is.

"Hey, weather girl!"

You let out a resigned breath as you tilt your head up and squint against the sun. He's still in his truck, his window rolled down, his elbow propped up against the car door.

"What do you want, Owens?"

Your fingers itch to reach for your camera. It's a visual, him in that fucking car, leaning out of his window with the sun peaking out behind him. But you can't, you can't take a picture of him this openly. Even if you were to argue that it's just the light you'd wanted to capture.

"To give you some advice", he calls out, his lips pulling into a grin. You raise your eyebrows at him. "East isn't gonna work out. Wind's changing. Go south."

He throws you a mock salute and hits the gas before you can say anything else.

Not that you'd been about to.

Instead you just curse to yourself, jump off the truck bed and throw your treacherous technology into the passenger seat with a little too much vigor. Fuck this. You sit at the steering wheel and stare out at the sky for exactly two seconds before you make your decision. Then you start your car and drive south.

You may not be a fan of Tyler Owens, but you've long since admitted to yourself that this man has got a gift. He has an unbeatable instinct when it comes to storms. And sure, you have your fair share of knowledge, but in the end, you're a photographer, not a meteorologist. You won't miss a day's work just because you're too proud to listen to Tyler.

You're a little further behind, but you can spot his truck and guess that he's driving straight on into the cell today, so you take a right and decide to try your luck with the side of the tornado. Not being right in its path doesn't sound too bad anyway.

You actually manage to snap a few well-placed pictures. You don't know what Tyler's doing, but it seems like he's not shooting random shit up the cell today. You'll watch the stream later - you're just the slightest bit curious now what's happening with them. Maybe they're doing some old-school chasing? Or maybe they're doing a challenge. Maybe Tyler is driving blindfolded. At this point, who knows.

It's good for you though. It's a considerable tornado today, an EF2 at least, and you only spot Tyler's red truck again when the cell moves further down the fields, away from him. It doesn't look like it's gonna disappear anytime soon. Maybe today's your lucky day.

Half an hour later, you're sure you've got at least a dozen pictures of the fully formed tornado, long touched down and without the red truck in the way.

You're just packing up your things, already sifting through the photos on your camera, squinting against the sunlight, trying to both tug the zipper of your bag closed and hit the right buttons at the same time when Tyler pulls up next to you.

"You look busy, weather girl", he says, already grinning that damn grin again.

"I am", you say - truthfully, for once. You let go of your bag and lower your camera. You're hesitant, but... "Thanks for the tip."

"Anytime", he grins. "Just do me one favour."

You already know this can't be good. Not with that cheeky look on his face. But he'd just saved you from chasing hot air (quite literally), so he deserves a little treat. And you don't want unsettled scores with Tyler Owens.

"I want to know what favour that's supposed to be before I agree", you say anyway, because with him, you can never be too careful. And in the end, you're only willing to do so much. (Though for him, you'd already do a lot more than you'd admit. A lot more than you hope he's aware of.)

"Let me buy you a beer", he says, and for once, he sounds serious.

The memory of yesterday night flashes before your eyes, of those same words at the bar. With him so close, way too close - with that grin and that stubble and that voice and those shoulders. You cross your arms and stare at him.

"If you're livestreaming this, I'm gonna sue your ass so hard."

He just lets out a chuckle and raises his hands in surrender.

"Cameras are off, I swear."

You stare at him for another silent ten or so seconds. At him in that fucking truck that looks just a little too good in your pictures. At him and his fucking face. That fucking face that you certainly wouldn't mind sitting on, if just to shut him up.

God, he's asking you to drink something with him. He's asking to buy you something to drink with him. You're stupid.

You're so, so stupid.

"Alright, cowboy", you say, uncrossing your arms and reaching for the handle of your car door. "I'll humour you."

...

You're in the bar again by nine that night, the same way you had been the day before. You're wearing a different dress and there's a different bartender, but you've ordered the same mojito and chosen the same place to sit.

Only this time, you're actively watching the door. And when Tyler strolls in, you've got to shift around in your seat and cross your legs. You don't even pretend you're not staring. You just ogle him openly. Not for the first time ever - you'd checked him out very obviously when he'd strutted towards you to introduce himself three months ago - but definitely for the first time in a while. And god yeah, he's a hunk of a man, alright. If you had your camera here right now...

But you don't. So instead, you drop your eyes to his feet (brown leather boots), drag them up his legs (blue jeans), over his chest (red checkered flannel), over his face (god, what you wouldn't give-) and finally rest them on the cowboy hat on top of his head.

When he's close enough to hear you, already grinning, of course, probably at how you're actually sitting there in the same spot as yesterday and hadn't just lied to his face about coming here, you raise your eyebrows at him.

"A cowboy hat?", you ask, your voice as unbothered as you can possibly manage (even though you're very, very, very much bothered right now). His grin only widens.

"Ladies love country boys", he drawls with a shrug.

"Now that's straight out of a song", you say. "You're getting lazy, Owens."

"A song?", he asks. "No, that's an Owens Original."

You pull your eyebrows even further up.

"Ladies love country boys? Trace Adkins?"

"Nope. Not familiar."

But his grin tells you that he's lying. He's a liar. He knows very well where he got that line from. And he knows just how easily he got under your skin with his simple trick. As if his face isn't enough already.

You just shake your head and turn away from him.

"Put your money where your mouth is, Owens. Buy me a beer."

...

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's also a great conversationalist.

The hours fly by as you're talking. One beer turns into two, then into an uncountable number of soft drinks. You both agree that you need to drive home, neither of you is willing to risk a run-in with the police. You need your drivers license for your jobs.

Tyler talks to you about the pictures you've taken today, then about the pictures from last week. He laughs when you blame him for ruining half of them and almost spits out his coke when you slap his arm for laughing at you. He tells you about his crew, about the people they've helped with the money from their dumb t-shirt sales. You think you hate him less by the minute. You're not sure if you're okay with that. But he gets you talking about your childhood and your parents, about school and college and about how you've wound back up here in Oklahoma. That effectively distracts you.

That, and how his cocky grin morphs into a genuine smile the more you open up.

Not that you didn't love the cocky grin. You did, just a bit. As obnoxious as it was. But the way he smiles at you all sweet has you melting right in your spot.

It's not the first time you realise that beneath all that rough exterior, there beats a heart of gold. You've known what those t-shirt sales are for, that he offers food and water after a tornado hits a town, that he carries the injured out of the ruins of their houses and helps find lost dogs. The more you've been around him in the past weeks, the more you've seen of his soft side. Of the way he cares and supports. But in the end, it always is easier to go back to the status quo - to fall back onto mindless snark and fleeting first impressions.

You'd clung so desperately to the image of him as this arrogant, smug, holier-than-thou influencer god for the sole purpose of keeping your own sanity. Because you'd known that without despising him, you would fall head over heels for Tyler Owens, and you just couldn't have that.

But now, with his arm brushing against yours and his hat discarded on the bar top and his smile, that beautiful, beautiful smile on his lips...

"Five bucks", he drawls, already reaching for his wallet.

"What?"

"Five bucks says there won't be a tornado tomorrow."

You raise your eyebrows at him, your glass hovering in mid-air between the two of you. You'd meant to take a sip, but now you're setting it right back down on the bar top.

"You're shitting me."

Tyler just shakes his head. He's grinning again, but it's much softer this time around.

"The winds are looking great. The forecast says it's gonna be the best conditions for tornadoes we've seen in the last six weeks. I've heard Dexter talk about how we're probably gonna see an EF4 tomorrow", you tell him, even though you're sure he's well aware of all of it. This is Tyler Owens, for god's sake. He knows about the winds and the forecasts. He knows that his crew is making preparations already.

His grin only grows. And it's smug now. It's cocky now. It's everything you thought you'd left behind during this conversation. He looks like the Tornado Wrangler again, like the guy who fucks up your pictures and makes your job harder than it already is.

It takes you a second too long to realise why.

"Dexter said that on our live", he grins, as if he can't quite believe what he's hearing. You physically recoil from him. "Do you watch our streams, weather girl?"

"No", you breathe, rigid and frozen, shocked to your very core. No, no, no, no, this cannot be happening. This cannot be happening. You'd... You hadn't made that mistake. He hadn't got you to make that mistake.

"Dexter talked about tomorrow on our live", Tyler says again, straightening his back and grinning down at you like he's just uncovered the lost grave of Cleopatra. "Only on the live. You watched our stream."

"No", you mutter, your eyes wide and your mouth dry, so dry. You need to drink. You need to drink so badly. "No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did. You watched our stream, honey."

The petname runs down your spine and clogs your senses. Honey. Oh, he's an ass, he's an asshole! But you're on the spot, you're on the spot and he's calling you honey, honey, honey. You can't do anything but watch as he leans closer to you, grinning down at you like it's his one true purpose on this earth, like he wants to eat you alive.

"I'd say you watch our streams pretty regularly, weather girl."

You swallow hard and clasp your hand around your glass.

"Yeah?", you breathe, hoping against all hope that your voice sounds somewhat innocent. You're sure it doesn't. You know it doesn't. You probably sound as guilty as you are, but... Hope dies last. Hope always dies last. "Why would you say that?"

"Just a hunch." He shows off those pearly fucking whites for you. "Call it an instinct. I'm usually right."

He is.

He's right now. He's right usually.

Him and his fucking instinct. His goddamn gut feeling about tornadoes, always right all the fucking time. He's like an Oklahoma Jesus. The first coming of Tornado Christ.

Fuck him.

"I'll take your bet." You drain your glass at once. "Give me your five bucks, Owens."

You don't think it'll work. You don't think he'll let you distract him. You don't think it'll be this easy to stop his vile teasing. He's not the type of guy to let something go. He's not the type of guy to let anything go ever. But he looks at you and he grins at you and he trails his eyes over your face and then he opens up his wallet and pulls out five dollars without another word.

He puts the bill flat on the bar top.

But when you go to reach for it, he pushes his fingers down.

"The price just went up", he says.

You raise your eyebrows and let your hand sink again. Tyler is absolutely unpredictable. You should've known.

"The price just went up?", you repeat. He nods. "What more do you want to bet?"

He's closer now, closer all of a sudden. He's too close, close enough to make your breath hitch. He's looking down at you with that cocky, cheeky grin, with his weirdly green eyes, with his three day stubble and his generally much too symmetrical face. You can't do anything but look back up at him.

"A kiss", he says. Simple as that.

A kiss.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He is. Truly. He's annoying and way too full of himself and much too presumptuous. Tyler Owens is the only man who would ever do something like this. The only man who'd bet a kiss on whether or not there will be tornadoes tomorrow.

Especially with that forecast.

The one that says a tornado is basically inevitable.

"Alright", you say. He may be Tyler Owens, the guy with an infallible instinct - but he is also Tyler Owens, the guy who's been doing his hardest to get under your skin. This time might not be any different. For all you know, he's bluffing to rile you up. "I'm in."

...

At eleven the next day, you're standing next to Dexter in resigned silence.

"I really thought today was gonna pan out", you mutter.

"It should have", Dexter frowns, tapping against the screen in his hands. "It should have worked out. The conditions should have been perfect. Everything's been building the last few days."

"But it collapsed this morning."

You turn your head and watch as Tyler comes to a stand next to you, arms crossed, eyes locked on the clear sky up above. He tilts his head to you and grins. Fuck, he's wearing his goddamn hat again. It's like he doesn't even try to be normal.

"Hey, weather girl", he greets. "Ready to cash out your bet?"

You shake your head at him. No, you're not giving up this easily. You never give up this easily.

"The day's not over yet, Owens. You haven't won 'til midnight."

...

You spend most of the next hours sitting in your truck bed, reading a book you'd thrown into your backseat weeks ago and had so far neglected. Lilly hands you lunch around two, Dani offers you a coffee around five and Boone pipes up here and there to joke about the wasted day. Around six, Dexter comes by to let you know they're calling it.

You still have another hour to go. By seven, it'll be too late to send your pictures anyway. But you want the hour. You need the hour.

You still haven't decided what to do about Tyler. About Tyler and his fucking bet.

He's been loitering the whole day, walking by, joking around with his crew, livestreaming a spontaneous q&a just because.

And the more minutes tick by, the harder it is to keep ignoring that you've most definitely lost the bet. Even though you do your best. You read, you check your phone. You stare at your radar. You stare at the weather forecast. You talk to Dexter and Dani and Lilly and Boone. You take a few pictures of the sky. Then you take a few pictures of Tyler, standing some feet away from his truck and looking out at the clouds.

It's only when two of three Tornado Wranglers cars are disappearing down the road, when Tyler Owens suddenly stands in front of your truck bed, that you put down your book and face reality.

"No tornadoes in sight", he says, instead of 'Hello' or 'How are you' like any other person would.

"There's still six hours left", you reason. Even if only one of those is relevant for your job today.

"You really want to wait out six hours to prove I'm right?"

"You're not right", you argue. It's fruitless, it's stupid, it's unreasonable. But... "Not yet, anyway."

Tyler raises his eyebrows at you, lets out an amused chuckle and leans against the side of your truck bed.

"Alright, so we wait."

You eye him from the side. He's fucking leaning against your truck, staring out at the sky, talking about six hours. Goddamn. He can't be serious, can he? His crew is already gone. They've disappeared into the descending sun and he's talking about waiting another six hours. Leaned against your car.

"Fuck's sake, Owens", you sigh, scooching over to the right. "At least sit down then."

You don't talk much at first. You just open your book back up again and try your hardest to ignore that he's even here at all, barely two feet away from you on the other side of your truck bed. If you stretched your leg, you'd hit him right in the hip.

It makes reading close to impossible.

Even though he's not doing anything at all. He's just sitting there, one arm propped up on the side board, that goddamn cowboy hat on his head and his feet hanging off the opened tailgate. It's almost worse that he's not doing anything.

That he's just sitting there and watching the sky change.

You give up on reading entirely when you realise that you've finished exactly five pages in half an hour. Instead, you put your book back in the car, pull out your bluetooth speaker and two water bottles and offer Tyler one of them.

You don't even ask him what music he wants to listen to. You just put on your country playlist and roll with it. By the twitch of his lips, you know he certainly doesn't mind.

Another half hour later, it's starting to get chilly and you're beginning to grow bored of the music. Tyler sitting next to you makes you fidgety, somehow, and you can't really enjoy the songs you usually love so much. So you switch to a podcast. You don't ask Tyler if he minds. He's free to go anytime.

Around eight, the sun starts to set, and the chill turns into an unpleasant cool. You hadn't really expected to be sitting out here so long. You're not prepared for the temperature to drop. You're wearing shorts, for god's sake, shorts and a top. It's summer in Oklahoma - you don't know how Tyler even manages to survive in his long jeans. You certainly wouldn't.

But now you're a little jealous, to be honest. He doesn't look cold in the slightest while you're fighting off shivers. You can feel your hands trembling already.

You really should've brought a jacket. But who brings jackets in 30 degree summer weather?

So instead, you just resign yourself to your fate and rub your hands along your arms. Anything to get some warmth into your body.

For the first time since you've sat back down, Tyler turns his head and looks at you.

"You're cold", he says, eyes raking over your arms and the goosebumps you'd gotten.

"Great observational skills, Sherlock Holmes", you deadpan, even though he doesn't really deserve that. He had so far left you pretty much alone. "A+ on that assignment."

Well, it's hard to break bad habits.

Tyler just chuckles, shakes his head and pushes off of the truck bed. You watch, eyes narrowed, as he walks back to his own car, opens up the trunk and- pulls out a blanket?

Your hands have sunken down to your lap all by themselves by the time he's standing in front of you again, holding out the blanket.

"For you, Watson", he grins as you slowly, carefully take the blanket from him. You mutter something along the lines of a soft 'Thank you' before you wrap the blanket around your arms.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's also the very definition of "Tough on the outside, soft on the inside". Sometimes, you think the word 'angelic' works for more than just his divine looks.

Your eyes are glued to him as he sits back down next to you and looks out at the darkening sky with that signature grin on his lips, like he knows that you're watching him and enjoys it more than he should. That doesn't deter you though. For the very first time. You don't even stop staring when he turns his head back to you. You don't even stop staring then.

You just look at him until his grin crumbles. Until he's smiling that smile from yesterday night, the one that has your heart squeezing together and then exploding in your chest. You think you could stare at that smile for the rest of eternity and never feel sated.

"What?", he asks, his voice so soft it makes you swallow. Your lips part, but there's no words on your tongue, none in your throat. They're stuck in your chest somewhere, wrapped around your heart so tightly that you can't let them go even now. So you just press your lips together, wrap your blanket tighter around yourself and say:

"So I'm Watson, yeah?"

Your podcast is long forgotten by the time the sky turns dark. So dark that you make Tyler climb into your car and turn on the lights. You're comfortable in your blanket, you don't feel the need to move.

It's around ten when the blanket isn't enough anymore.

You tuck your hands underneath your top, but that only helps for so long. A few minutes later, you're trembling again, trembling even though you're pulling the blanket as tightly around you as you possibly can. Tyler raises his eyebrows when a particularly heavy shiver runs down your spine, one of those that come and go within three seconds.

"Come here", he says, shuffling in his spot and motioning for you to move over to him. You don't really think about it. It's more of a reflex as you fumble the blanket off of your body, scooch over to him, settle yourself against his side and sneak your feet under his thigh. He tugs the blanket back up to your chin, tucks it in behind your back and wraps his arms around you.

Tyler Owens wraps his arms around you.

And he's so fucking warm you literally almost moan. God, you hadn't actually realised just how cold you'd been.

"Damn, you're freezing", he notes as well, just as you nestle further into him and hum in agreement. He's like a living heater right now. You'd like to just crawl inside of him and suck up all his warmth. "You should've told me sooner."

"I didn't tell you at all", you mutter, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. He smells good. He smells so good. Earthy, musky somehow. You're tempted to turn your head and bury your nose in his shoulder.

Instead, you just satisfy yourself with what you can get. Fuck, he smells so good. He smells just like you'd thought he would, like country and rodeo and thunderstorms. He smells like falling into bed at the end of a successful chase. He smells like more. You want more.

You want more of Tyler Owens.

"Are you sniffing me?", he asks suddenly, but he sounds so amused you can't even bring yourself to feel embarrassed. You just open your eyes and grin at him, tilting your head so you can look up at him.

"What if I am?", you ask, if only to hear that breathless chuckle fall from his lips. Oh, those lips. You're in trouble. "Are you gonna call the cops on me?"

"I could never."

"Yeah, you better not, cowboy", you mutter, eyes dropping to his lips when he grins. He's so close. He's way too close. "There's like thirty things I could call the cops about on your channel."

His grin grows until he's showing off his teeth, glinting against the low light of the leds in your car. He's closer now.

"So you do watch our streams, weather girl."

His voice is so low and he's so close, so close. Your lips part all on their own. You haven't looked back up at his eyes in too long. Far too long. But he's so close, and he's so warm, and he smells so good.

"Alright", you whisper. His mouth is barely an inch from yours. You can feel every breath he takes. "I watch your streams."

And then your lips are on his.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He's cocky and he's smug. He makes your job harder than it has to be. He does everything and anything to get under your skin. But Tyler Ownes is the best goddamn kisser this side of the globe.

He trails his hands, his big, big hands, down your sides, pushes the blanket out of the way and grabs at your waist with just enough firmness. He pulls you onto his lap and rests his thumbs over the hem of your top. He breathes into your mouth and takes it slow. He doesn't care that you almost knock his hat out of the way when you try to wrap your arms around his neck. He just holds you tightly to him and lets you tug on his lip.

You honestly don't know how much time has passed when he pulls back, grinning an entirely new grin at you, hazy and euphoric.

"It's not midnight yet", he mutters, the slightest bit out of breath.

"I don't care", you mumble, drawing him right back in for another kiss. You think you might be addicted. You simply can't get enough of him. You can't get enough of Tyler Owens.

But then a thought strikes you, and you pull away with a grin that makes him raise his eyebrows.

You chuckle against his lips.

"If you feel it, chase it, right?"

#twisters #twisters 2024 #tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens twisters #x reader

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monzamash · 3 months ago

Text

★ last chance; long live the inbox graveyard! —i pick a long forgotten request in my inbox and write a short blurb or musings

hot tub time machine lando norris x you —no warnings, just fluff "could we get a number 14 (pool/hot tub sex) with lando pleaseeee? so excited that you’re writing again!!" —requested by anon on october 8th, 2024

“happy birthday, sweetheart...”

“i really needed this," he sighed, "knowing i would be home with you for this was the only thing getting me through the last few of weeks.”

lando could feel every single ache and pain wash away as he slid into the hot tub, stomach full of the gorgeous italian spread you’d ordered for dinner. his favourite. he swore you were an angel sent to earth, everything you did for him was heavenly, he could never find the words to tell you how much he loved you.

“you look so happy lan,” you smiled, dropping the kimono you’d worn during dinner as lando’s eyes cast across your body, luring you into the tub.

“i’m very happy - especially when i get to enjoy all of this… c’mere pretty girl.”

a soft giggle slipped from your lips as you grasped his hand, "let me get a bottle of red wine for us to share and i'll join you — do you wanna open the one daniel gave you?"

"ooo, are we entering that portion of the night?" lando asked suggestively as you stood up, shooting him quizzical look.

"what do you mean?" you asked earning a loud laugh from the tub, water splashing a little as lando pulled himself up to the edge, smiling over at you with a look you knew all too well.

"as soon as you start on the red wine, you get so frisky," he stated as if it was a well-known fact, one that you certainly weren't aware of.

"i do not!" you staunchly defended, earning another loud scoff.

"oh, wow," lando laughed, "yes, you do baby and i'm not complaining so crack her open..." he teased as you carefully stepped into the tub, with lando's help of course, eyes still narrowed in annoyance.

"okay so maybe wine makes me a little more amorous than usual but i think i'm just like that when i drink, no?" you pouted, earning yourself a pity kiss from the birthday boy.

"red wine makes you horny and that's okay," he teased again with a cheeky smirk on his face as you handed him the stemmed glass, "ta."

"we'll see then, won't we," you tutted, pouring two glasses of wine while lando chuckled to himself.

"i already know what's gonna happen but sure," he baited with a wink as he slowly dunked his head under the water and emerged with a shake of his wild curls, sending water flying across the room and all over you.

"you are so sure of yourself tonight."

lando's eyes skimmed across your body briefly while you claw-clipped your hair up, not wanting the hassle of having to dry it before going to bed. secretly you knew where the night was headed, red wine or not— it was his birthday after all, but you weren't about to admit that to the man hypnotised by your every move, jaw slack from the glorious view of your cleavage.

lando was a simple man.

"well, i am the birthday boy after all so i reserve the right to be cocky once a year, yeah?" he taunted from the other side of the tub.

"yeah, only once a year..." you rolled your eyes humorously.

the distance between the two of you seemed too far for lando, so he sculled the rest of his drink and carefully placed the glass on the floor before giving you a mischievous smile.

"steady on, party boy," you chuckled as he leaned forward and snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you into his warm hold.

"i just want to focus all of my attention on you," he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear that had fallen out of your clip, his emerald irises darted over your face, finally resting on yours.

"i missed you a lot, you know."

you took that as an invitation to straddle his lap and rest your elbows over his shoulders, wine glass dangling from your fingers. lando smoothed his hands down your back and and pressed fiery kisses across your chest. his lips travelled back up your neck, along your jaw before finding your soft lips in a slow, passionate kiss. you moved in sync with him, bringing one of your hands up to trawl through his wet, tangled curls. the chlorine always got the best of them.

lando hummed quietly into the kiss before pulling back slightly, "this is the best birthday i've ever had... and i couldn't be more in love with you," he confessed as you took the chance to admire the sweet boy you'd chosen to share your life with.

you grasped his face gently between your hands and pressed another soft kiss to his lips, making sure he knew just how much you loved him, no matter what life threw your way.

"i love you too, darling... happy birthday."

a/n — the first of the end of (f1) season sale!! this hot tub request actually wasn't forgotten, just half-baked so thank you anon for sparking up the inspiration to finally finish it! hope you enjoyed it 😌

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 imagine #f1 writing #monzamusings ✨#monzamashmasterlist #end of (f1) season sale!!

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gloomwitchwrites · 8 months ago

Note

morning after one night stand with 141?

Anon! You have me kicking my feet and giggling over here!! I am cackling so hard omg. I've been waiting for a prompt like this, and I know it has been sitting in my inbox for a while. (Really there are a ton sitting in my inbox and I will get to them all I promise). But after feeling like garbage and having some health issues, this prompt just came to me naturally and I didn't need to force anything. I thought it would be best to tackle this first on my dive back into fulfilling these requests after the 1k follower event.

I went spicy with this one. I won't lie. Because, let's be real, a morning after with any of these four will only end up with you still in that bed. I know I'd fold instantly. No question about it.

Content & Warnings: swearing, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, feelings, oral sex (male & female receiving), sex w/ and w/o condoms, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, aftercare

Word Count: 3.6k

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Bonus Chapter: Alejandro Vargas

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

John Price

The ceiling fan above you spins slowly. It’s not nearly enough air. Your skin is sticky with sweat, and you’ve hardly slept at all.

The sheets you’re tangled in are thin, but what can you expect from a cheap hotel?

All of this was last second. A moment of tipsy-laced passion. Now you’re reaping the consequences. And the air is too damp, too hot, too—

Fuck.

You glance to your right, at the man softly snoring beside you. All the memories from last night appear before your eyes, replaying like a grainy recording. Images of all the positions this man put you in, and how fucking good his dick felt inside you.

Even now, you still feel the slight sting in your scalp from when he tangled his fingers in your hair while you took him into your mouth.

You need to leave. You need to leave with a thread of your dignity in tact before he wakes up. Before John wakes. You know the name well enough. He had you screaming it nearly all night. Insisted on it, and you happily obliged.

Shifting slightly, you shimmy to the very edge of the bed, trying your hardest to sit up without making too much noise or rocking the bed. Swinging your legs around, you push up, coming to an upright position, feet planting firmly on the floor. Between your legs is a mess. You don’t have to see it to know.

Most of the night, John used condoms. But when the two of you finally curled up together, John had slid his hand between your thighs and parted you just enough to push right on in. You didn’t protest. You had sighed heavily, and then groaned when he rocked his hips, moving inside you.

In the moment you didn’t care. Not one bit. In a way, you still don’t, but what the fuck were you thinking?

You breathe in deep through your nostrils and then exhale slowly through your mouth. Lingering won’t help. You need to collect your clothes from the floor and leave.

As you open your eyes, and blink, you’re faced with your reflection. The full-length mirror against the wall shows the carnage from the night, but it’s not your appearance that has you pausing.

It’s John.

He’s awake.

And he’s staring right at you.

“You leaving me already?” His voice is husky. Sleep-tinged. The sound of it goes straight to your pussy.

“No,” you reply automatically.

He yawns, muscled chest flexing. “You’re lying, love.”

Your limbs do not cooperate. Move. That’s what you need, but your body isn’t listening. It’s melting instead, wanting to draw back into his arms.

“Am I?”

He nods, and rubs his large hand across his chest. The dark hairs there are tempting. You remember running your hands over those pectorals, and how your fingers dug in as you used him to rock back against his cock.

John pushes up and reaches over, that hand pressing against your back lightly, rubbing soft circles.

Fuck.

“Come here,” he says softly, and yet it isn’t soft at all.

It’s not pleading. It’s not exactly a command. John isn’t demanding anything and yet you are unable to form any will of your own. It’s like John has just taken a shot of whiskey.

Finally, your limbs move, but it is not away from him. Your feet find the bed again, and John is grabbing onto your thighs and waist, drawing you back. The whimper you release when both of his hands grasp the backs of your thighs as he pulls you into his lap is obscene. It’s silly. Downright ridiculous.

But it’s cut off. Cinched.

John’s mouth is on yours and then you’re kissing him. It is open-mouthed. A bit messy. But fuck is it good. His hands slide up your thighs, over the curve of your ass, and meander their way over your back. One arm wraps around your waist while the other comes up to your throat.

He won’t let you leave. He won’t allow you to slip away. John’s hand seems so large against your throat, and yet you don’t care. It’s possessive the way he claims your mouth. When you begin to wiggle, John growls, and you’re flipped onto your back.

John doesn’t cease kissing you, and his hands are everywhere. Your legs effortlessly part from him, and you feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh.

What’s one more? Couldn’t hurt.

You shift your hips, and it’s like John already knows. Drawing your legs up and into a more bent position, there is little effort in the way he buries himself to the hilt. You almost choke on your next breath but that is all you have.

There is nothing lazy or soft about this. John’s hips snap forward and back, skin smacking against skin. He presses his face against the side of your head, lips brushing along the lien of your jaw as he continues to relentlessly fuck you into the bed. Your hands claw at his back, fingers digging for a semblance of steadiness.

“Can’t leave yet,” he huffs against your throat.

Your face shifts toward him and John takes this opportunity to find your lips again, and this kiss is so much different. It is passionate, and speaks to something more desperate than a mere need.

This is only supposed to be a night. A fun, drunken fuck you can latch onto your belt.

But no. That’s not what this is.

Not really.

John "Soap" MacTavish

The air conditioning kicks in, and that is what wakes you. A cool burst of air travels over your skin, making you shiver, pulling you from sleep.

You groan, snuggling against the warmth you’re curled against. It’s a comforting warmth. A bit soft with some hardness too. Not completely comfortable but better than the blast of cold air.

When you sink further against this warmth, it shifts beneath you. Dazedly, you blink, pulling back slightly from this nice heat you don’t wish to leave. Your cheek grazes against something scratchy and then you’re frowning down at chiseled pectorals.

The night before comes rushing forward. It is a battering ram of information, one that sends your already foggy brain into overload.

“Morning, love.” The husky, Scottish voice grounds you, slamming you back to reality.

You twist slightly and are greeted by soft blue eyes and a lazy smile.

“Johnny,” you murmur.

“Remembered my name,” he laughs. He reaches over to grasp the back of your thigh, drawing it over his waist. That large hand of his squeezes gently and you shiver.

“You remember mine?” you ask, teasing back.

He hums softly, and then draws you in, whispering your name against your lips.

This was a one-time thing. A quick hookup. You met Johnny at a pub. He had zeroed in on you instantly, making his way toward you with eagerness like he knew he wanted you out of everyone there that night.

And you had melted. Complied. Fallen for his Scottish accent that only seemed to thicken the more he drank. He cracked jokes, and gave you all of his attention. It was nice to be wanted for once, and when he discreetly asked you if you wanted to go back to his place, you didn’t hesitate.

But the morning is here. It has come calling. And now you’re left with the consequences.

“I need to go,” you murmur, drawing away from him.

Embarrassment is starting to sink in. You have no idea what you might look like at the moment but it can’t be anything other than a mess. Your makeup is likely smeared, hair tangled like a bird’s nest, and you fucking ache everywhere.

Which is fucking understandable because Johnny has stamina. You’ve never been with a man with such quick recovery time. He’d finish, take a couple minutes, and come right back at it like he wasn’t winded at all. He also put you in all sorts of weird positions.

No wonder you’re sore.

Johnny’s face falls slightly, and his arms tighten, keeping you crushed against him. “Don’t want to stay for a bit? Could grab some breakfast.”

He’s offering it to you casually as if your rejection won’t mean anything, but you see the hesitation in his gaze. Johnny wants you to say “yes” and yet you don’t know why. It could just be a show of kindness. An offering of nourishment after the workout he put you through last night. But perhaps it’s something more?

No. That’s silly. Ridiculous.

The two of you met just last night. If anything, the two of you have only known each other for twelve hours. That’s hardly enough to go on.

But breakfast sounds lovely.

When you don’t answer right away, Johnny adjusts his hold on you. His face draws close, gaze lazily scanning your body. Slowly, he moves in, brushing his lips against your shoulder, and then the curve at your neck.

“Or we could stay here for a bit longer.” He presses a kiss to your throat. “Breakfast after?” Johnny’s hand changes position, slipping up to grasp the curve of your ass. His body twists, and you feel his hard cock against the inside of your thigh.

Your pussy immediately clenches, remembering all the things he did to you. You attempt to push the feeling aside but it only grows, flowing outward, zapping your self-control.

“Johnny,” you whimper as his hand ventures further downward, sliding between your legs.

His fingers part your pussy, and the sound of the mess between your legs reaches your ears. The two of you didn’t use condoms last night, but you’re both clean and you went for it. It seems overly loudly in the room, and Johnny’s breathing quickens slightly as he explores.

“Don’t mind me adding to this?” His lips come down on your neck before his teeth lightly sink in.

Your lips part and you cry out as Johnny slips a finger inside your pussy. He takes his time, slowly moving in and out of your pussy. Lazily, his thumb brushes over your clit. He repeats the gesture, and your hips buck against his hold.

“Staying?” he asks, lips brushing over collarbone to descend downward to your breasts.

His actions aren’t fair. This isn’t how things are supposed to go. He’s supposed to kick you out. To tell you to leave either politely or like an asshole. Instead, Johnny is trying everything to get you to stay. And you can’t say you’re all that mad about it because—fuck, this man knows how to use his fingers.

Johnny runs his tongue over your nipple and you nearly come undone right then. Your hips flex forward, pushing your clit against his palm. He inserts a second finger, and Johnny groans against your breasts as your orgasm builds toward its peak.

“Stay,” he says, and you squeeze around those two digits, gasping for air as your fingers dig into his pectorals.

Johnny withdraws and rolls you onto your back. You spread your legs gladly, your orgasm still buzzing under your skin. He boxes you in, the head of his cock pushing in. All that soreness returns but it is fleeting. Once he’s seated entirely inside you, you hardly care.

“I’ll stay,” you gasp as he rocks his hips.

“For breakfast, too?”

“Whatever you want.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

When you awaken, it’s a jolt. A sharp shake.

You blink, not recognizing your surroundings for a moment. Hazy memories bubble up to the surface. There was a man with blonde hair and scars. There was whiskey. Lots of it. A bottle shared between you and him.

His hand kept straying to your thigh, squeezing with intention. You leaned in, asked if he was interested in going elsewhere.

This is elsewhere. And it’s not a hotel.

Simon.

You remember him now. His gruff voice, his large hands on your body, and the way he stripped you down in seconds before his mouth sought supple skin. Your cheeks heat with the memory, and you absently press your palm there, the warmth radiating into your fingers.

Glancing over, you find the bed empty. Reaching out, you test the sheets, finding them cold. Simon has been gone a while, but this is no hotel room. It’s too personal, which means he’s somewhere. This must be his home.

If you’re careful, maybe you can slip out. You sit up, and listen. Quiet. No running water or feet padding softly against the floor. The bathroom door is ajar and the light is off. Simon might be out in the kitchen or living room—or he might be gone.

That’s happened before. You’ve awoken only for the man to be gone, leaving you alone in his home to put yourself together and make an exit at your convenience.

It’s…fine.

Simon was a good fuck. You can’t complain on that front. He knew exactly how to work your body. He found all your spots—all the things that make you melt—and stuck with it.

Sighing heavily, you crawl out of the comfortable bed. Your limbs scream in protest, soreness making itself known in places you’ve never been sore before. It’s a game finding your discarded clothes on the floor. With only a sliver of sunlight from the window, you’re forced to grab and hold the item up in the air to determine if the clothing item is yours or Simon’s.

“Finally,” you mutter, identifying your shirt. It’s halfway over your head when you hear the front door. “Fuck,” you hiss, only tangling yourself further.

You take a step back only to smack your leg against the bed. It sends you backwards, sprawling onto your back. You manage to sit up and wrestle your shirt on when Simon enters the room.

He stands in the doorway holding a plastic bag, and wearing a black tracksuit. Simon’s hair is a bit of a mess like he quickly ran his fingers through it before leaving.

“Hi,” you say weakly, because you can’t stand awkward silence.

“Leaving?” asks Simon, but he doesn’t sound upset.

You shrug, and swallow down the lump in your throat. “What’s in the bag?” you reply, switching tactics.

Simon is quiet a moment before he reaches in and tosses something to you. You manage to catch it without fumbling it.

Glancing down, you look at the box. At the—oh.

“We ran out last night,” he states simply.

It suddenly grows hot in the room.

“We did,” you agree, clutching the box of condoms like it’s a lifejacket.

He bought more. Which means—

“You’re welcome to leave,” he says, crumbling up the bag and setting it on top of the dresser. Simon reaches into his pocket and deposits his keys along with his phone. Unzipping his jacket, Simon reveals bare chest.

When the jacket is gone, Simon is left in only black joggers. He’s on full display. Broad shoulders, muscled arms and chest, large hands that perfectly wrapped around your throat as he bent you over and fucked you from behind.

“Is that what you want?” you ask, but you already know the answer. If Simon really wanted you gone, he wouldn’t have left to purchase another box of condoms.

“It’s what you want,” he replies. Simon is so calm—so casual. He’s not moving away from the door. He stands there, shirtless, gaze intense.

You sigh loudly and glance down at the box of condoms. “You did go out of your way to buy these.”

By the time you glance up, Simon is right there, grasping your throat, easing your head upwards so that you can look at him. With his other hand, he takes the condoms and tosses them onto the bed.

“You’re staying.” It’s not really a question, more of a confirmation.

You nod once and Simon’s thumb brushes over your bottom lip. That soft touch is enough to part your lips, and Simon makes a noise deep in his throat that sounds like a groan.

“Take me in your mouth,” he rasps. “Like you did last night.”

Your hands find the top of his joggers. Sliding beneath the band, you wiggle them down until the base of his cock appears. You pull a bit more, and then it’s free, already hard with a tiny bead of cum blooming in the slit. Your tongue darts out, swiping it up.

Simon shivers, and his hold on your neck adjusts to grasp the back of your head. He doesn’t haul you against him, or force himself down your throat. He is waiting for you, and that action in and of itself is enough to get you to stay a bit longer.

The head of his cock slides over your tongue and you throat him deep. Simon’s eyelids flutter and his groan is sweet. You bottle it up for later with the intention of recreating that sound—to make him moan like that again.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Sunday mornings are lazy mornings.

Some of the alcohol from last night still lingers in your pores, leaving a tightness behind your eyes and at your temples. But it’s not all that relevant.

Right now, you’re floating. There’s a man between your thighs. Well, his head anyway. And his tongue is doing all sorts of things to you.

Kyle’s tongue lazily flicks back and forth over your clit while he pumps two fingers in and out of your pussy. He is in no rush. No hurry. He’s taking his time, and you’re in blissful motion, hips rocking against his tongue, meeting his fingers with each thrust.

He groans softly against your pussy just before he sucks your clit into his mouth. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, and your back arches off the bed. Kyle’s name is on your lips. A repetition you cannot cease.

Even with your orgasm blossoming, you feel his smile against your skin. Kyle is smug that he’s done this to you.

What a way to start the day.

Kyle’s fingers slip from your body, and then he’s pushing up, reaching for the box of condoms on the bedside table. He snatches one up, tearing it open quickly.

“How do you want me?” you murmur, not trusting your voice. It’s still hoarse from sleep and the smokes you accepted last night.

Kyle rolls on the condom. His skin is glossy with sweat. The two of you have hardly slept. You thought this would be a quick fuck but it’s something else. Kyle takes his time, and that has drawn this one-night stand out into an all-night fucking marathon.

“You’re good as you are, love,” coos Kyle, settling between your legs again. You both groan aloud when he slides home.

It’s the next day. You should be out of this bed. You should be doing your usual walk-of-shame, and yet you’re still in Kyle’s bed, full of his cock, and completely strung out on orgasms.

“Promise I’ll let you rest after this,” he murmurs, testing with a roll of his hips.

You almost laugh. “You said that the last two times,” you moan as he hits somewhere deep.

“Did I?” he asks, absently.

Kyle is sweet, but he knows how to make you yearn. It’s agony. And it’s fucking beautiful. This isn’t how any of this is supposed to go and yet here you are, getting dicked down by a man who is clearly beyond simple hook-ups.

This man is boyfriend material, and even as your mind starts to drift back into a lustful haze, it’s scheming of ways to keep him.

Shifting slightly, Kyle adjusts your legs, setting a pace that makes each stroke divine. Perhaps it’s the fact that you’re exhausted that it feels so goddamn good. And maybe the two of you will actually rest after this.

The birds are chirping, and traffic is already moving. It’s the morning after, and yet the night seems to have been unending.

Kyle leans forward, and then your lips are connecting. Each kiss is deep. Tender. It’s unfair how nice this is. It shouldn’t be like this, and yet it is, and that makes it all the more painful when you do finally leave. This is not your home. It is his.

This is just an agreement made in a smoky pub. Nothing more.

“Kyle,” you moan, drawing his name out as your orgasm crests.

He smiles against your mouth, his pace stuttering out as the rest of him starts to tense.

“Almost there, love. Promise.” That word, promise, is strained. Kyle’s eyelids flutter, and then he too finds his end.

In the muted dark, the two of you exchange breaths. A car honks outside but it’s a muted thing. You’re hardly paying attention.

“Can we rest now?” you ask. It’s almost a laugh, but it’s also cautious. Maybe rest just means rest for him, and you’re about to be kicked to the curb.

“Yeah,” he smiles, rolling onto his back. Kyle reaches down to remove the condom before pushing himself out of bed and into the bathroom. The light flicks on. Water runs. And then Kyle returns with a damp cloth.

“Open those legs for me.”

You do so obediently, and Kyle patiently cleans you up before returning the cloth to the bathroom.

When he returns, the words tumble out of you unexpectantly. “I just need a couple hours and then I’ll go.”

Kyle frowns as he slides back into the bed. “You don’t need to rush out of here.”

You don’t need to rush out of here.

“I don’t want to bother—” Kyle shakes his head and you cease speaking.

“Come here,” he murmurs, offering himself. You slide up next to him, and Kyle wraps his arms around your body, dragging you into his chest.

Your lips begin to form words but Kyle makes a grunt and you promptly close your mouth. Kyle has you locked in his arms, and it’s comfortable. Normal. This is all too personal, and yet Kyle doesn’t seem to mind.

Maybe you could make this into something else.

Maybe this is him offering more.

Whatever it is, the concept fractures, slipping away as the warmth and comfort of him lulls you to sleep.

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nachrosas · 29 days ago

Text

QUANTUM FEELINGS | s.reid x reader

summary: in which you said "i love you" to spencer when he's a little drunk. pairing: spencer reid x reader content warnings: just spencer being a little drunk in this one! word count: 915 a/n: night, night! thank you so much anon for requesting this (my first request ever), i hope it turned out well! hope you guys like it! feedback is always appreciated! also, my inbox is always open to chat! till the next one!

Your living room was immersed in soft light, projected by the lamp in the corner of the room. Empty wine bottles lay on the coffee table as if they were telling the story of a night that had gotten completely out of hand. You were sitting on the sofa, watching Spencer lying on the floor on the dog, his cheeks flushed from drinking so much and the tie he insisted on wearing was now loose, falling awkwardly over his crumpled shirt.

“You know…” he began, pointing a trembling finger upwards as if to reveal something new. “Do you know that quantum entanglement is… is… basically proof that the universe is a real walking paradox?”

You tried to hold back a laugh, but the grimace on his face made you fail miserably. “Spence, I don't understand quantum physics.”

He raised his head a little, his eyes shining with a mixture of indignation and enthusiasm. “It's very simple!” he insisted, even though his speech was totally slurred. “Two particles are completely connected, no matter how far apart they are. If one changes, so does the other. It's like… instantaneous! And nobody knows how it works! Is it… fascinating? Terrifying? Sad?”

“Sad?” you asked, curious about what he had said.

“Yes!” he stood up carelessly, almost knocking over the bottles on the table. “Because… because… that means that although everything is connected, at the same time we are so… isolated. As if each person were a particle desperately trying to find their half, but never…never…”

The sentence hung in the air, lost between the pauses and the weight of the drink in Spencer's system.

You leaned forward, resting your chin on one of your hands as you watched him. “Spence.” you said softly, your voice with a tone of affection that overflowed before you could control it. “That's why I love you so much.”

He blinked, surprised, the silence filling the space between you as if there were a third person present. Perhaps because of the alcoholic state he was in, or the confusion in his expression, he gave a low, disconnected laugh, shaking his head as if he had just heard something quite absurd.

“I love tangled particles too,” he muttered, before downing the rest of the wine he'd found in a glass.

And you laughed, but the sound that escaped your lips seemed more nervous than you wanted.

The sun streamed into the room through the ajar curtains, the kind of light that had only one purpose: to irritate someone with a hangover. Spencer woke up slowly, pressing his eyes shut as a slight pain throbbed at the base of his head. He let out a low groan, feeling the bitter taste of wine and regret fill his mouth.

The muffled sound of plates and cups coming from the direction of the kitchen brought a small semblance of normality but also ignited disconnected fragments of the night before in his mind. The conversation about quantum physics, his inability to articulate ideas clearly, and… something else.

He stood up slowly, rubbing his face with his hands as he tried to remember more. Quantum entanglement, isolation… laughter… and…

“That's why I love you.”

The words echoed like a bucket of cold water thrown in his face, so unexpected and clear that they made his mind freeze in place. He tried to rationalize. You must have said it as a joke. Or something that came out in the heat of the moment. But the tone you used… was gentle, totally natural.

Getting up slowly, he stumbled to your bedroom door, still wearing his crumpled shirt and loose tie, as a reminder of all the chaos that had been the night before. When he reached the kitchen, he saw you, casual as ever, stirring something in a mug.

“Good morning, my favorite Einstein.” you joked when you saw him. “How's your head after that magnificent lecture on particles in love?”

He stood still for a moment, waiting for his brain to process his speech. “I've been better.” he replied, his voice hoarse, as he looked away from her to the bench.

“Coffee?” you offered, holding out the mug in your hands.

He accepted it without hesitation, his fingers still slightly trembling. “I… talked a lot of garbage yesterday, didn't I?”

You shrugged, still smiling. “Well, it was quite a trip. But don't worry, I didn't judge your ramblings about cosmic loneliness.”

He let out a mirthless laugh, but the discomfort was still there, pulsing beneath the surface of his chest. As you turned your attention to the stove, he allowed himself to stop and watch you for a moment. The way you acted as if nothing had happened made him wonder if it had really mattered — or if he was just dwelling on something too small.

“Thanks for… um… looking after me last night.” he murmured, without looking directly at you.

“Sure, Spence.” you replied casually, with an easy smile. ”What are friends, if not entangled particles, right?”

He choked on his coffee, the phrase reviving his memory even more vividly of the night before. But instead of answering you, he just lowered his head and sipped his coffee.

At that moment, he realized that the discomfort he felt in his heart didn't come from your words, but from the way they made him feel. It was something new, unexpected. Something he couldn't imagine how he was going to explore, but he was sure he wouldn't be able to ignore.

#criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic

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globaloppaaa · 5 months ago

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Hey! Can you please do "babysitting with zb1"?

i love this idea!! got started on it as soon as you sent it! thank you for requesting bb, and as always if anyone wants to request more my inbox is currently open! might need some time as school is beginning for me again.

w/a: literally the smallest hint of suggestive theme of u squint to the point that your eye are just closed.

for hanbin, I don’t wanna say that this man has no flaws… but he really knows how to take care of younger siblings so any child is no problem at all. Heck, he’s probably taking care of you too. He’s got a lot of experience with taking care of others that it comes like second nature to him. Leaves you little notes of encouragement around the house when things start to get too stressful :))

jiwoong is doing your job for you at this point lol. Probably the most calm when one child throws a bit of a temper tantrum. His soft voice when he communicates to them can naturally bring a smile right back to their face. I feel like taking care of younger siblings pose no challenge to him whatsoever, I mean they’re just like mini versions of you two! Maybe he’s starting to get his head stuck in the clouds with the whole “mini you” idea…

If you’ve seen zb1 taking care of those twins on youtube you know well that hao does NOT know how to take care of children well. you’re lowkey 🤏 close to kicking him out with the way he talks back to the kid as if they’re both five years old. however watching the way you’re able to calm the child down really takes him by surprise, and he finds himself more willing to learn how you take care of them so well, while ultimately keeping both him and the kids under control too.

matthew tries so hard to be the best good cop of a babysitter he can be, though sometimes he forgets that bounderies and lessons do need to be learned! is the kind of babysitter that melts at the sight of the child’s puppy eyes and gives in to whatever scheming they may have up their sleeve. next thing you know there’s paint splattered on every surface but the ones paint is supposed to be on. “how could i resist?!” he says, giving u a pout while he attempts to remove the smear on his cheek, and honestly it’s hard for you to resist when he looks at you that way too.

you can bet taerae is singing those kids one hell’ of a lullaby every night WHEWWW. We all know how soothing his voice is, perfect for stormy nights or when’s there’s still a bit too much excitement past curfew. He’s definitely more of a practical kind of babysitter if that makes sense though. “Why do they play with rocks and twigs when the big screen tv is right there?” 🙄🤷🏻 Kinda guy. I will say that you and taerae are especially good keeping kids entertained. They adore his energy and humor and all the little skits he’ll put on. Babysitting with him leaves everyone smiling.

ricky is so elegant with it 😭😭 I don’t think you’ve ever heard him raise his voice because the children just obey without question. It’s almost strange lol. You two work as a great team! You make up the rules (because he likes listening to you too ☺️) and he’s the official communicator of said rules. Babysitting never feels stressful with him. His one downfall is that he will buy the kid(s) anything at anytime, and then he’ll buy YOU anything you want at anytime. He just wants you all to be happy what can he say?

gyuvin is surprisingly very good at babysitting when given instructions, knows what food is healthy and chewable, can easily make them fall asleep at curfew, and ensure the kids always keep a smile on their face. it’s hard to believe that when you run to the store, forgetting one item that all hell breaks loose. “i don’t know what to do when you’re gone.” he winces, in what looks like the most uncomfortable pose of defeat on the floor, the children jumping atop him in victory.

gunwook For sure knows what a child’s needs are, but learns all the details and the in-betweens from you! Definitely gets affected by cuteness aggression so sometimes it can be hard for him to concentrate, and then if YOU’RE there? Great, that’s a whole other distraction he’s gotta try and fail to ignore. Gunwook makes babysitting feel like a normal part of life rather than any kind of chore or job. He’s a bit head over heels on the idea of having his own family some day, and just maybeee he’s thinking about having it with you. 🤭

yujin i’m sorry but you’re practically taking care of him too. I’m not saying this because i think he’s a “baby”, but because he’s so socially awkward with the kids he can’t even hold eye contact lmao. For example, one of them might start to throw a tantrum out of the blue, and yujin’s solution involves him standing there watching like 🧍🏻😟. He’ll most likely start shouting your name for assistance… he really is trying his best! I think Yujin likes to let you lead with the babysitting, while also giving him a front row seat at admiring you being so passionate about making others happy and well cared for.

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letorip · 5 months ago

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Can you do headcanons for Jenna’s characters with a tall reader?

tall reader

it's been a little bit since i've been back on here and actively posted, but you know what i felt bad that i hadn't, so i did this to kind of assure everyone who didn't see my last thing that i'm still alive and well. sorry for not responding sooner to this request. also, if you see this, do not panic, i promise, i'm still finishing kiss with a fist [iii] and we’re only a few days from casual [iii]. the last thing i want is someone seeing me update and then immediately jumping into my inbox to ask about those, because i'm hard at work at them anyways

also, if you're not tall, just imagine it for a moment, lmao

wednesday addams

she’s not especially expressive, so she’ll never admit to it, but she absolutely loves that you’re so much taller than her. it’s cheesy and she knows you'll tease her about it, if she does mention it

she fumbles the bag at first, when during one of your first conversations, she says "you remind me of lurch." it's not exactly flattering to be told you remind her of her 40 year old butler who looks like a skeleton, and it makes you think she doesn't like you, at first, but to be fair, she meant it as a compliment

you try to brush past it, and wednesday too, and she's confused as to why you didn't seem flattered. enid's mouth drops open when wednesday recounts your interaction, and she tries to coach her through fixing her mistake

unfortunately your next conversation is only more awkward, when she walks it back and says "you DON'T remind me of lurch." she thinks it's a good way to recover from her previous error, but you just look even more confused, and she's suddenly walking off before she fucks up anything any more

she does manage to have an actual conversation with you later, after you take the turn to initiate, and that's how you two actually begin to grow closer and closer

even in her big ass platform boots, you’re still taller than her. it closes a little bit of the distance, but you're still much taller

she grabs your tie or bunches your shirt and pulls you down to her level, in order to kiss you. it hurts your neck sometimes, but you’d never ever tell her not to do it

even when she tugs you down for a kiss, she still has to stand on her tippy toes, especially if she’s only in socks

it does make you the ideal height for cuddling, though

wednesday claimed at first that she would cut your fingers off if you tried to hold her, but she slowly learns to crave it. all you have to do is give her a look and lift up your blanket, and she’ll crawl right in, especially if it’s after an investigation and she’s exhausted

theres just something oddly relaxing about curling up and feeling you wrap yourself around her. you’re definitely big spoon in this scenario. not that she wouldn’t hold you the same— she does, especially when she’s worried about the investigation but doesn’t want to say anything— but she likes how you’re able to completely wrap around her and how she can almost burrow herself into you

wednesday absolutely adores to sit on your lap. she’ll sit on your lap whenever and wherever she can. sideways with her arms around your neck, back to front with your arms around her waist, facing you in a straddle, during the more heated moments. she said she’d never be like her parents, but she also finds your lap to be the most comfortable seat around

she plops herself down onto your lap whenever she feels the person you're talking to is laughing a little too much at your jokes. she'll wander right over, wordlessly, sit down on your lap, wrap an arm around your neck, and stare at the person you're talking to with a usual disinterest, and they very quickly get the memo and leave

not that you realise this pattern, of course

you also use your height to help in the investigation. getting books for her off of high-up, dusty shelves, giving her a boost through windows that she shouldn't be breaking into, you name it. your willingness to assist her in her crazy plan is just part of what she loves about you

"can you reach that for me, cara mia?"

she does miraculously know your measurements, of course, when it comes to buying clothes. being tall makes clothes somewhat hard, but she always manages to buy the perfect sized thing, and you're starting to wonder if she somehow measured you, when you weren't paying attention

tara carpenter

you guys begin as sworn enemies after meeting at blackmore, and it results in a lot of mean insults about each others' height. she calls you the jolly green giant and you call her dwarf. she calls you giraffe, you call her stuart little. neither of you will admit that you find the other obnoxiously attractive

she says you're freakishly tall, but you're only a little taller than chad. she never annoys him about his height, only you, but for what it's worth, you annoy her right back

it culminates one night during a drunken hookup after you've shouted insults into each others faces. tara won't admit her anger is from seeing a random girl grind on you, and you won't admit you're annoyed that ethan and chad are obviously in love with her, and doing their best at flirting

you don't know who closes the distance first, but the next thing you know, you're messily pressing your mouths together and tara is climbing you like a damn tree, i mean, this is literally her

immediately after, you and tara try to pretend it didn't happen, and it lasts all of one week before she's jumping your bones again, only this time neither of you are drunk

you get together shortly after, but best believe the teasing doesn't stop. she'll still call you her little construction crane, and you'll smile with a faux sweetness and call her your little hobbit, until she smacks you on the arm

you're definitely a fiery couple, on both sides, but you do have your sweet moments

you give her piggyback rides because you're tall enough to do so, and she just happily wraps her arms around your neck and lets you carry her places. pretty much any time she gets tired enough (or even when she isn't really tired at all), she'll give you a cute pout and put her arms out, and you'll pick her up

tara loves to cuddle with you, but even then, sometimes you both squabble over the blanket, and she'll start complaining about how you hog the whole thing because of your height. it turns into a playful wrestling match, and while you have the obvious advantage and could flip her right around at any given moment, you let her climb on top of you and pin your arms above your head in a proud victory (which takes a lot of effort, considering how short she is)

of course, like all of your play-fights, it turns into something more

she doesn't like to talk about woodsboro, but she does find a comfort in how tall you are. it makes her feel a bit safer with you around, not that a couple inches would stop ghostface or anything

but she feels a genuine relaxation, when you can both be in bed together, and you're completely holding her in your arms, and it's not a thing she thought she'd feel again

you give her your jacket when she's cold, and she has to bunch the fabric around her elbows, or it'll absolutely swim on her. she always teases you about it, but the moment you jokingly threaten to take it back, she'll roll her eyes with a smile and tug it on with a kiss to your cheek

sometimes when you're cooking in the kitchen, she'll wrap her arms around your waist and let her head rest against the small of your back

you also help her when she's studying in the school library, by similarly grabbing books off the shelf for her

when she wants to rest her head on your shoulder, you still have to crane your neck down to let her. it's not super comfortable, but you still do it, because she looks adorable when she sleeps

she's figured out something seriously cruel. you complained about her feet being cold once, when you were snuggling, and ever since you mentioned it, tara realised she's the perfect height to press a cold foot right onto your back. she does it when she wants to start a play-fight, and it works like a charm every time

you're annoyed by it, but it definitely does make her laugh

lorraine day

your height is immediately what lorraine clocks onto, when she first sees you, because she's coming back from a shoot, getting dropped off by RJ, and she sees you in the distance, hopping a fence like it's no effort at all, when the same fence is a pain for lorraine to climb

you're the new ranch hand that her father hired while she was gone, and when she officially meets you, the both of you don't exactly get off on the right foot

you don't actually say much, which is something her father warned her of before you were introduced, but she at least expected some kind of "hello." instead, you just stare down at her from the shadow of your hat with a neutral nod, and then go off to get back to work. no giving her your name, no asking her any questions, no interest whatsoever

she doesn't know if she's more offended by your lack of manners or more upset you don't seem anywhere near as curious about her as she is about you

your height makes you ideal for most ranching activities though. you easily climb up and down from your horse and you're a speedy, fast rider.

when lorraine is on her shorter breed of horse, you're still as tall as her shoulders, and you help her get ready to go out on her horse with you and her father, even if it is wordlessly

she's only heard you speak a few times, and it's mostly been laughing with her father, which abruptly stops when lorraine gets close enough

after a rare bit of rain, lorraine's boots are slippery, and she slides out of the stirrup when dismounting way quicker than she was ready for. luckily, you're there to catch her, and she collides against you, pretty much right into your arms

unfortunately, you both fall back into a pile of horse shit, and the next thing she knows, she's hearing a nice, airy laughter coming from you. she's damn sure it's the first time she's seen you smile or laugh, and it's got her laughing too

she apologises, but you say "it's nothin," and you both kind of naturally grow closer from there

you help her up onto her horse, when she's without a saddle. you're tall enough to do so, and you hoist her up gently and set her on the animal's back with a small smile, and it kind of makes her heart beat real fast

it turns out the rough and tough cowboy exterior is a false image of you lorraine created in her mind. you're actually just a quiet, hot, tall, dork

you're feeding her horse a carrot or something, about to go out and do your job with lorraine eager to tag along, and she doesn't know what comes over her, but she leans down a little and plants a kiss right on your lips

she's the champion of sitting on stuff to reach your face: a fence, her horse, a hay bale. she likes being above you for once, and you're not complaining whatsoever

she tugs on the belt loop of your jeans when she wants you to lean down and kiss her. she also absolutely steals your baseball cap, and then to be funny, your cowboy boots, and she laughs about how big on her the cowboy boots are and clomps around in them

her family house has low ceilings, so it's kind of a pain to walk through, especially in your boots. for the most part, you live above the barn because of the higher ceilings, and sometimes (most nights) lorraine sneaks out to see you

she absolutely loves to sit on your shoulders. it's not especially comfortable for you, but you let her do it at the town events like fireworks and festivals and stuff. she sits on your shoulders for a "better view," and she'll rest her chin on top of your head

sorry to RJ, he's getting dumped the moment he comes back into town

cairo sweet

she doesn't even really realise you're tall at first, because she just sees you in your chair, on the second day of the new semester

you're new in town, a transfer kid and a cross country prodigy, with record times and future athletic scholarships up the wazoo, owed partially to being much taller than average. but the two most annoying things about you is that you can write, and you've read mr. miller's book

mr. miller seems rather pleased with having you in his class, and immediately it makes cairo hate you. her whole plan pretty much crumbles with you now in the way, and she absolutely loathes you for it

her new plan becomes to seduce you and distract you from school, and it works because you do harbour a giant, absolutely massive crush on her

your mother, who's also your coach, wants you to stay focused on athletics and not let cairo get in the way, but talking to her makes you melt, and when she finds you one day, in the locker room after everyone's left, you immediately cave when she sloppily kisses you and shoves her tongue into your mouth

your height is ideal for picking her up and pushing her back against the lockers, while her legs wrap around your waist

tree climber core again

she says it's just a scheme, but after you earnestly ask her out on a date and you both have a fantastic time, cairo's master plan goes out the window, and she just enjoys you for you

she goes to all of your meets, and she'll stand at the railing of the bleachers, and watch you with a smile (she's too fancy to cheer like a soccer mom out loud, but know she's really rooting for you on the inside)

you're like that one track couple at the olympics, if y'all have seen the clip. you finish your run in first place, qualifying for the state competition, and before anyone can congratulate you, you're running in cairo's direction, at the bleachers.

you're tall enough to the point that you just stand there on the ground, and cairo leans over the railing and kisses you, pulling away to cup your cheeks

your height is definitely a plus, in that when cairo is especially miffed at something mr. miller said or another student, after class, she'll grab your arm and wrap it around her shoulder

you barely fit on your twin-sized mattress, but cairo owns a king in her massive ass house, so it's a plus, whenever you go over to her place to "study"

just like with wednesday, when you're over at her house, you're the person who grabs her books off her shelf for her. she'll whisper a thanks and press a kiss to your cheek. sometimes she'll stand behind you and watch you grab a book off the shelf, just to see the stretch in your muscles and watch you move. she's just thinking "i'm no better than a man" while it happens

she love love loves to lay on top of you, on the sofa, when she's got a book to read. she'll just lay back against your chest, in your embrace, with a book in hand

she'll borrow your jacket, even though she complains it doesn't match her style, but it still swims on her

absolutely loves to be princess-carried to her bed when she falls asleep on the couch reading. she'll fall asleep because it's just too comfortable there, and you'll carry her up the stairs and tuck her in

she also grabs your collar and tugs you down to her for a kiss. either that, or she'll tug on your sleeve, which you now know is cairo saying she wants a kiss or a hug

#answered #jenna ortega x reader #cairo sweet x reader #wednesday addams x reader #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x you #letorip

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mellowswriting · 1 year ago

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Hiiii! First of all let me tell you that i love all your Javier Peña fics omg you keep us the Javi girlies fed!!!!

And second! I saw that your requests were open and i had to come here! would you ever consider writing something about Javi being possesive bc some guy’s flirting with reader but she doesn’t realize until much late and he gets jealous and overall breeding kink bc he wants to make her all his and put a baby in her so everyone knows who she belongs to!

his girl

pairing || Javier Peña x fem!Reader

word count || 3.6k

summary || There's a possessiveness that strikes a man once he finally has everything he's ever wanted. Javier soothes that animal feeling by marking you - his ring on your finger, his initial hanging at your throat, his marks sucked into your skin. But lately, it just isn't enough. Luckily, he has the perfect plan. He's putting a baby in your belly.

content || SMUT, jealousy, possessiveness, explicit breeding kink, oral sex (f receiving), multiple orgasms (f receiving), dirty talk, rough sex/manhandling, aftercare, praise, massages, husband!Javi being an absolute menace, unbeta'd and unedited (written largely while having covid, so bear with me babes)

a/n || has this sat in my inbox for a humiliating amount of time? yes. did I have a blast finally writing it? absolutely. I am forever and ever in love with husband!Javi

Javier Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Library Blog

Javier loves watching you. He has from the very beginning, long before he could even call you his. From the very moment you started occupying the desk across from him, he has loathed taking his eyes off of you. He took note of the little things. The way you threw your head back and laughed at Murphy’s awful jokes. The furrow of your brow as you read over a file. The smile you flashed him when your eyes locked from across the room. You consumed him right from the start. Those glimpses grew more personal as he gravitated toward you, unable to resist the pull of that warm smile and the spitfire burning in your blood. The grumpy expression you wear in those first weary moments after waking. The dramatic glance you give him when you overhear a couple arguing in the grocery store. The feeling of your weight sinking into him as you fall asleep in the bed you share.

No matter how much time passes, he still finds himself enamored by the very sight of you. A glass of whiskey sweats on the table in front of him, relatively untouched. He’s too busy eying you from across the bar to bother with it. You look so beautiful in the low light, chatting and smiling with your girls as you wait for the bartender. He can’t even guess the number of times he’s seen you in this bar, wearing that pretty little dress, but it doesn’t matter. You catch his eye every time.

There’s only one problem. He isn’t the only one looking.

Possessiveness comes naturally to a man who finally has everything he wants. It flares in his chest, hot and untamed, as a man settles against the bar beside you. The man says something to catch your attention and leans closer with a flirtatious smile - and Javier has to bite back the urge to rip his throat out. The man must be oblivious to the ring on your finger and the ‘J’ hanging from the thin gold chain around your neck. Or maybe he just doesn’t care. Javier grits his teeth and tries to be patient.

He lasts less than five minutes.

Your eyes light up when you spot him shouldering his way through the crowd. The urge to kiss that dazzling smile off your lips is irresistible. His name just barely leaves you before his hands find the familiar curve of your waist and tug you close. He kisses you, softly at first. His hand cradles your jaw and you melt into him, your fingers wrapped loosely around his wrist. Your breathing stutters in your chest. Javier swears he gets high off the ease with which you sway for him.

The parting of your lips is an invitation he takes without hesitation. You tug him closer by the front of his shirt as he deepens the kiss. The way you cling to him sends a thrill of arousal through him. He can’t help but tighten his grip at your waist, pinning you back against the bartop just slightly. Javier eagerly drinks in the little moan he pulls from you. Fuck, he knows he has to stop before he bends you right over this damn bartop. He gives you one last kiss, short and sweet, before he reluctantly pulls away. You look up at him with those bright eyes and a tipsy little smile.

He gives your waist a little squeeze. “So, who’s your new friend?”

“Huh…? Oh!” You brush off the haziness with a little shake of your head. “This is… um, James! He’s Maria’s brother.”

“Nice to meet you.” Javier curls a covetous arm around your waist and holds you close. He offers his other hand to James and when the man shakes it, he makes sure to squeeze. Hard. He tries not to look too proud of himself. A song comes across the bar’s speakers, something familiar with a good beat. “Well, I hate to cut this short but my wife looks like she needs a dance.”

James is smart enough to take the hint and get the hell out of there.

You let out a knowing laugh as Javier tugs you into the crowd. “What was that about?”

“I need an excuse to dance with my girl?” He asks, the picture of innocence.

It doesn’t take long for you to forget the whole thing once he gets his hands on you. Javier can feel the shift in your energy. Every gentle, lingering touch only makes you melt into him more. You lean back into his chest, your head resting against his shoulder. He can smell your shampoo and perfume, and the feeling of your hips swaying against him makes his cock twitch.

Your dress twists in his greedy grip as he shamelessly gropes your ass and your drunken giggle is music to his ears. He has to force himself not to be too rough. The soft, lacey fabric falls delicately at your waist, all flowy and beautiful. He loves this dress on you - and so does every other man in this bar. Javier spots James watching the two of you from across the room and that familiar need to stake his claim flares.

His hand drifts up from your waist to your chest and his fingers trace the little gold ‘J’ that hangs there before going higher. His fingers wrap around your throat and you don’t even open your eyes. Your trust is so painfully clear and it makes his cock even harder. He tilts your head to the side, plants a hot kiss against your pulse point, and you melt even more for him. James averts his gaze, his cheeks bright red.

Pride and possessiveness vie for control, an unwinnable fight between his love of showing you off and the unbearable need for everyone to know exactly who you belong to. The ring on your finger, his initial at your neck - it just isn’t enough.

The idea takes root before his rational mind can stop it. Instinct and pure possessiveness blend into one rabid, desperate need: he needs to knock you up. The mere image is enough to have him grinding his cock against your ass without shame. Your belly swelling with the baby he planted there. The flowy fabric of this dress stretching over your stomach until it doesn’t fit. Huddling up with you in those tiny dressing rooms as you try on new clothes. His baby on your hip and another growing in your belly. The undeniable proof of who exactly you belong to - his wife, the mother of his children. His, his his.

“Every man in this bar has been eying you up all night,” Javier grumbles.

“Ah, that’s what this is about…” You say indulgently. “Feeling jealous?”

“They think they have a chance if I’m not glued to your side. That pretty ring on your finger is just a challenge to them.” The annoyance rings clear in his voice. You turn around in his arms, a teasing smile on your pretty face. He knows just how much you love it when he gets like this. His arms tighten around you. “It’s okay, baby. I’ll make sure they know you belong to me.”

“Oh?” You raise your eyebrows. “And how are you doing that?”

Javier tightens his arms around you until your chest is flush with his. The smirk fades from your face, quickly replaced with something softer, more curious. He leans closer until his lips brush your ear, his voice low and dripping with sin. “I’m gonna take you home and put a baby in your belly.”

He watches the realization wash over you - the way your breath catches and your eyes go all wide. The buttons of his shirt twist in your hand where you cling to him. Your eyes flick back and forth as you study his face, obviously trying to gauge his seriousness. There isn’t a hint of humor or halfheartedness to be found.

“Fuck… I- really? Are you serious?” You whisper. Anticipation curls tight in his belly. Javier grabs your jaw, his touch gentle as he keeps your attention solely on him.

“Not letting you out of that bed ‘til I knock you up.” He murmurs as his thumb traces the line of your bottom lip. You draw in a shuddering breath, your pupils blown out as you look up at him with an expression he knows all too well. All tender, lush with softness and submission. “Everyone will know exactly who you fuckin’ belong to with my baby growing in your belly.”

Your eyes flutter shut, a vain attempt to steady yourself. “Javi…”

“Yeah?” He whispers. “What do you think?”

“I think…” You lock eyes with his. “I think you need to take me home. Now.”

A thrill surges through him. He couldn’t get you out of there faster, even if he tried.

The front door barely closes before you kick off your heels and take off toward the bedroom. Adrenaline rushes through you at the sound of Javier hot on your tail. Your laughter echoes through the hall as he chases you down. The bedroom is just in your sight when you feel his arms wrap around your waist and he yanks you up off of your feet - just to prove that he can. Picture frames rattle against the wall where he pushes you up against it. He shoves his thigh between your legs and the pressure against your aching cunt sends pleasure arcing up your spine. The kiss he gives you is hot and frenzied, searing pure desire into your skin.

You don’t hesitate to grab a handful of his hair, which has finally grown out enough to show off those pretty curls you adore. Javier moans and that deep, rich rumble sends you into overdrive. You grind against his thigh, the thin cotton of your underwear all that separates you from the friction you truly crave. A sharp nip of his teeth against your lower lip makes you gasp but he soothes you with a skillful swipe of his tongue.

He breaks the kiss, only to gift his attention to the long line of your throat. The blunt edge of his teeth digs into the place where your neck and shoulder meet. You know there will be a mess of marks all over your skin at this rate, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Not when you know that you will bear an indisputable mark of his claim soon enough. Heat courses through you at the thought. Javier finally relents and leans back to take in his handiwork, seeming satisfied with the latest hickey on your throat. Your hand absentmindedly strokes the mark he just left and his eyes track the movement, a smirk growing on his handsome face.

“Don’t worry, baby.” He murmurs. “I’m only getting started.”

The grip he has on your waist is bruising as he walks you back toward the bed. You let yourself get lost in the way he manhandles you onto the bed, your thighs spread to welcome his body between them. The image of him standing over you is breathtaking - the fire burning in his eyes, the kiss-bitten quality to his lips, the flush that has overtaken his neck and chest. You don’t get long to admire him before he falls to his knees and pushes the skirt of your dress up to your waist. He yanks you closer to the edge of the mattress and a startled sound comes from you - but it melts away into a moan as he tongues your cunt over your soaked panties.

“Fuck,” You sigh, your hand snaking down to bury in his hair. Instinct drives your hips to buck up into that sinful mouth and Javier rewards you with an eager groan. The telltale pop of seams meets your ears a mere millisecond before your husband tears through the lace underwear you wore just for him. You gasp, your fingers tightening in his hair. “What the fuck are you - oh, fuck.”

“Gotta get you nice and ready for my cock, amor.” He murmurs.

The wet heat of his mouth against your bare cunt steals the fight right out from under you. He doesn’t falter as your thighs wrap around his head - in fact, it only encourages him. He eats you out like a man starved, like your dripping cunt is the only sustenance he could ever need. If you weren’t so strung out on pleasure, you would be embarrassed by the sounds he pulls from your body - wet, desperate, filthy sounds. His tongue circles over your clit in steady strokes that have you shivering with white-hot pleasure.

You can’t resist the temptation to look at him. Those dark eyes gleam at you from between your thighs, feverish with lust. Two thick fingers slip inside you and hook upwards, finding that sweet spot with practiced ease. A violent shudder rocks through your body as he drives you closer and closer to that edge. He needs it almost as much as you do - you know just from the glint in his eyes. Pure hunger, pure devotion. He moans in encouragement as you grind into his touch, easily rocking in sync with your movements. You can practically read the words running through his head.

C’mon, sweet thing. Let go. Come for me.

That ever-tightening coil in your belly finally snaps. Every nerve ending lights up with the pleasure that surges through you, leaving you a trembling, whining mess beneath him. Little sparks flicker through your core with every lingering caress of his fingers and lick of his tongue. It isn’t until you push his head away that he finally relents. You sink into the shivery haze of it all, the weightless, floating feeling he always brings out in you. Bliss surrounds you in every gentle stroke of his fingers and sweet praise that leaves his lips.

Javier’s hands deftly unzip the back of your dress and slip it from your body, your bra quickly following it onto the floor. You shiver at the chill of the air against your sweat-slick skin, but he’s quick to remedy that. You swear your husband burns hotter than a damn furnace, but you welcome the heat of his bare skin against yours. He showers you with attention as you come down. Messy kisses leave wet marks along your chest and throat. His warm hands wander and squeeze at your thighs and waist - any soft, supple flesh he can get his greedy hands on.

His fingers nudge your jaw up and he captures your lips in a lazy kiss, all tongue and sweetness. It’s too easy to get lost in the heat of it - the easy caress of his tongue, the grip of his fingers holding you right where he wants you, the rough brush of his stubble. He steals the breath from your lungs and breathes life back into you in the same second. Intoxicating - that’s the only way you can describe the attention he gives you. Need still thrums through you, even with the sensitivity still pulsing through your body.

Javier groans as you pull his body flush against yours, the heavy weight of his cock resting between your thighs. He pulls back and takes in the sight of his cock gliding along your slick cunt. He’s transfixed as he slowly thrusts against you, those big hands palming your ass eagerly. The head of his cock nudges your clit and you whine, your body jerking with the overstimulation.

“Shh, I got you, baby,” He murmurs, his voice low and rough with lust. Anticipation sings in your veins, only to be dashed as he keeps rocking his hips at a devastatingly slow pace. Your voice breaks around his name, every ounce of need bled into your tone, but Javier just smirks down at you. He squeezes the soft flesh of your thighs. “Use your words, baby.”

“Fuck, please” Heat rushes to your cheeks and floods your core at his teasing words. Javier shakes his head and tuts at you, unmoving in his ploy to get exactly what he wants. Your teeth tug at the soft pillow of your bottom lip before soothing the mark with a careful swipe of your tongue. His gaze follows the movement, his own lips parting as he takes you in. You take advantage of the distraction with ease. Those deep eyes flit back to your own as your fingers brush his cheek. The touch draws him closer, his nose nearly brushing yours.

“Put a baby in me. Let me make you a daddy.”

An animalistic sound leaves Javier’s chest, something rough and feral and promising. Javier sinks into the slick heat of your cunt in one easy thrust, not stopping until his cock presses snugly against your cervix. It damn near drives you crazy - the stretch, the stimulation, the pleasure-pain of almost too much. Your hips jerk, your body instinctively pulling away from the overstimulation.

“Where do you think you’re going, huh?” Javier grits out as his hands take a firm grip on your waist, holding you in place as he presses even deeper. The whine that leaves you feels pathetic but you can’t help it. Not when he’s so fucking deep you swear you can feel him in your stomach. “No running, mama. You’re gettin’ what you begged for.”

The words that hang at the tip of your tongue disappear as he pulls back a few inches only to fill you all over again. Your nails find purchase in the taut muscle of his shoulders as he sets a devastatingly languid pace. He retreats just enough for you to feel the loss before he sinks as deep as your body can take him. Every thrust forces a broken sound from your lips, sounds that only encourage him to take you apart piece by piece.

Pleasure scorches your belly, reignited into an uncontrollable blaze under your husband’s tender hands. It hurts so good - you can’t help but cling to him and roll your hips in time with his. You meet him touch for touch. He pushes, you pull. He gives, you take - and take and take and take. It only fuels his need to take you apart that much more. His hands slip to the small of your back and curve your ass up at that perfect angle to make you see stars.

“Too much, too much - fuck, Javi!” You babble through the onslaught.

“It’s not enough, baby,” Javier whispers. The wet heat of his mouth against your ear makes you shiver. “Can never get enough of you.”

The hard edge of his pelvis grinds against your sensitive clit and your body jolts under the rush of pleasure. Your body fights it, fights him, but your squirming is something he handles all too well. He pins you into the sheets with his weight, his thrusts devolving into sharp grinds that make you cry out beneath him. He can feel it in every pulse of your cunt.

“That’s it,” The low growl in his voice makes you tremble. “Come for me, little mama.”

Your eyes roll and your vision whites out as a second orgasm crashes over your body. It feels like something breaks - something gushing and hot and wet. You can hear the soft sounds of praise somewhere underneath the blood rushing in your ears. It isn’t until your double vision finally comes back together that you feel it - every hot pulse of his cock inside of you, intensified by the way your cunt milks him for every last drop.

You welcome the full weight of his body sinking into you. Javier buries his face in your neck with a soft grunt. Goosebumps follow every sloppy kiss he presses there, praise murmured between every pass of his lips. You don’t know just how long you lay there soaking it in but soon enough, the ache in your hips interrupts the bliss.

“Javi,” You nudge his hip with your knee but he doesn’t budge. “Javi,”

“Mm,” He grunts as he cranes his head back to take a look at you.

“M’ sore, baby. Gotta get up.” You murmur.

Javier drags himself off of you with a groan and before you can do more than flex your legs, he maneuvers you up onto the bed. You can’t help but chuckle as he gets you settled against the mountain of fluffy pillows and immediately crowds against you once more. You cradle his face in your hands and draw him closer, your nose brushing his. His lips part in a quiet sigh as his gaze flits over your face. A tender, aching devotion lays bare on his own. You can see it all - the pride, the wonder, the love. You card your fingers through his hair, pushing the dark, overgrown curls away from his pretty face. Javier kisses you soft and slow, a low hum of happiness rumbling through him.

Something warm and happy settles in your chest as he eases you onto your stomach and sets to work rubbing your shoulders and back. His thumbs dig into every knot he comes across, working you into a melted mess of happiness. He’s so good at taking care of you, your lovely husband. So thorough, so attentive. For the millionth time, you’re struck by how lucky you are. You couldn’t imagine a better man to raise a family with.

“You’re going to be such an amazing dad, sweetheart.” You murmur drowsily. His hands pause where they were working at a particularly stubborn knot in your lower back. A deep breath shudders through him and suddenly, he’s straddling your thighs. His cock twitches against your ass and you wiggle against him despite your exhaustion. You can’t help but tease him. “Already, Javi? I don’t know…”

“Shh, just one more…” He murmurs, his voice dark and lusty as he manhandles you onto your stomach. He squeezes your thighs and moans low in his chest. “Let me do all the work, honey. Just one more and it’ll take, I know it…”

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x reader smut #javier pena smut #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier peña fanfiction #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña

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vivwritesfics · 9 months ago

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Hello! I love your writing and just saw that your requests are open! I was wondering if you would be willing to write for norlestappen x reader something with a mix of fluff and spice maybe someone hits on the reader and they go into protective mode but another driver on the Grid is the readers brother and thinks that they're being TOO protective?

Thank you for all your writing and I hope you can do something with this mess if not I totally understand 😁

okay so they are a throuple throughout this, russell reader bc that's been on my mind

warnings: they get called toxic at one point

1. That time in the club - Charles

She wasn't even there with them, not technically anyway. They just also happened to be there, watching as she danced with her friends.

Lando looked all parts frat boy in the club: shirt open to reveal a bit of his chest and the necklaces he wore (one for his sister, one for his loves), and backwards snapback. Max was in his skinny years (you can take the boy out of the Netherlands, but not the Netherlands out of the boy). Charles had those stupid star jeans that he loved so much (and she loved them, too).

They weren't there to interrupt her night with her friends, but they were aware of just how pretty she was. It was kind of toxic, wasn't it? That they didn't want her in the club without them there to keep an eye on her.

But then that fucking guy came up to her.

Her friends had turned away for two seconds, walked up to the bar to get them all some drinks, and that guy took his chance.

Charles saw it first. He was laughing at something Max was saying when he saw the guy walk up to her and whisper something in her ear.

In an instant he'd shoved his drink into Lando's hand and strode over. His face was set in anger that wasn't usually seen outside of the race track as he pushed the guys hand away from her and pulled her in. "Can I help you?" He asked.

But, as soon as he said it, he turned away from the guy, small smile gracing his lips as he pressed a kiss to her temple. "Is he bothering you?" He asked, but the guy couldn't hear him over the music.

"He's okay," she said and tipped his face towards her so that she could properly kiss him, so that the guy stood in front of them could she who she belonged to.

(As soon as she had kissed one of her boyfriends, she turned towards the other two. But she couldn't beckon them over and kiss them in front of this guy, not without him getting the wrong idea).

The guy backed away. "Crikey," she mumbled as soon as he had walked off. "I thought he'd never leave

2. That time in her Instagram DMs - Lando

When you have a super hot girlfriend, it shouldn't come as a surprise when people are sliding into her DMs.

It had happened a couple of times, and Lando, Max and Charles were always there to delete the messages from her inbox (she didn't have a PR team to look after her like her boyfriends and her brother did).

And, although she never ever answered, although she was very public with her relation ship with not one, not two, but three formula one drivers, people still tried.

Most of the time, people slipped through the cracks. It was easy to ignore the accounts constantly messaging her because, well, she just didn't care to answer.

But then she saw the accounts that popped up again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again.

She didn't mean to click on his DMs. Actually, Lando had sent a meme to the groupchat and she'd meant to click on that instead. But then his notification was at the top, where she was about to click. And she fucking clicked it.

It wasn't his messages that she saw first. No, it was a penis. A dick pic, that had been sitting in her DMs for... how long? As soon as it was on her screen she threw her phone and covered her mouth.

Taking a minute to recover she stood and walked to find Lando at his PlayStation. If this had been a few years ago, he would have been streaming. Thank God he wasn't.

"Lan," she said and sat on his lap. "This was your fault, you fix it."

He looked at her phone, and almost threw up. "How the fuck was this my fault?"

"If you hadn't sent that meme to the groupchat, I wouldn't have accidentally clicked this!"

But Lando still furrowed his brows at her. So, she explained it all to him (that this guy was one of those freaks that constantly messaged her).

Lando fixed it. He took a picture of himself, hood up, curls visible out the front of his hood, and middle finger up. The expression on his face was clearly unimpressed as he stared at the camera.

This is her boyf, fuck off

It was cringe and cliché, and she loved it. The guy in her DMs opened the picture instantly, and Lando blocked him.

He passed her phone back and she climbed onto his lap. "Thank youuuuuuu," she said and hissed his neck a couple of times.

Lando's hands settled on her hip. "No more opening dick pics unless they're from me, yeah?"

She agreed to that.

3. That time with George - Max

There was nothing worse than seeing her brothers car collide with one of her boyfriends. But, if it had to be one of them, why did it have to be Max?

Max, who got out of the car, fuming. Max, who couldn't be stopped by Lando or Charles as he marched over to George.

They got into a fight, one that was clearly about more than the crash. Nobody knew what either man had said. Lando rushed over, while Charles ran to her and pulled him against her, hiding her in his chest.

"She's my fucking sister!" George shouted as Lando got between them. "She's my sister and you treat her like you own her!" His eyes moved to Lando, and then to Charles. "All of you do."

She didn't know George had this kind of problem with her relationship. Of course, it didn't change anything. She loved them, she knew what there relationship was all about, and she was happy.

But her brother was still fighting with her boyfriend. She pulled away from Charles and strode over. "George!" She shouted, and her brother turned towards her. "What the fuck!"

"It's racing stuff."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not stupid," she said. "I heard everything, you idiot."

"Oh," he said and stood up straight. "Well, I'm right, aren't I? Max wouldn't be trying to kick the shit out of me."

She frowned. "Is your problem that I'm dating them, or that they're protective?"

"Possessive."

"Protective."

"Possessive."

This went on for a little while. Max, Lando and Charles stood behind her, watching as the siblings went back and forth. When Charles laid his hand on her shoulder, she snapped back into it. "Right, yeah," she said and shook her head. "They're not possessive. Lando saved me from a guy with dick pic the other day, George! Or do you want me getting sent dick picks every five minutes."

George rolled his eyes. "Of course not," he said. "But-"

"Then shut the fuck up and stop trying to kill my boyfriend on track."

a/n: this one got away from me and i'm not proud of the ending lmao

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oldwritingm · 1 year ago

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Hey! Can I request head canons about the ninja finding the reader (their partner) wearing their clothes?

Finally getting around to clearing out my inbox! Here ya go, friend!!

Ninjago - Ninjas Finding You in Their Clothes

Kai

He notices that you’re wearing his shirt the second he walks in the room

He has a very good memory when it comes to what clothes he owns, so when he sees them on you, he knows them in an instant

He smirks, leaning against the doorframe

He lets out a long whistle, startling you

“Looking fine, babe. I like the shirt.”

“Yeah? You like my shirt?”

His smirk grows, and he saunters over to you

His arms wrap around your waist and he pulls you into a kiss

He reminds you that it is, in fact, not your shirt

Cue the teasing that ends with you being chased around the house until Kai corners you and tickles you, refusing to let up unless you admit the shirt isn’t yours

As much as he likes seeing you in his clothes, he isn’t going to let you keep them

But he starts asking if you also want one whenever he gets a new clothing item, because he thinks you look totally hot in his clothing style

He just doesn’t want to have to give up any of his clothes; he needs them all to be available 24/7 for ✨fashion purposes✨

Cole

It takes him a second to realize it’s his hoodie you’re wearing

It’s the bagginess that he notices first; he’s a pretty big guy, so his clothes would most likely be at least a little big on you

The longer he looks, though, the more familiar the hoodie becomes

When he finally realizes, a huge grin blooms on his face

He walks up to you and envelops you in a bear hug, lifting you off the ground and swaying back and forth

He is absolutely elated that you’re in his clothes

He likes his clothes, and he likes you, so put those things together…

Perfection in his eyes

When he sets you down, finally allowing you to breathe again, he plants a kiss atop your head

“Please wear my hoodies more often. You look great.”

Even though they don’t fit you too well, Cole’s clothes are very comfy, so you take full advantage of his open-closet policy

What he loves most is getting something back after a while and finding that it smells like you <3

Jay

His initial thought is that you also happen to have a Starfarer shirt

He says as much, but when you give an amused giggle he gets suspicious

Going to his room, he finds his shirt gone

He comes running after you

“Thief! Get back here!”

“Heheheh, no!! It’s comfy!”

When he finally tackles you onto the couch, both of you laughing your lungs out, he peppers your face with kisses

He’s not really all that upset, he was just taken by surprise

In actuality he thinks you look great, and he tells you to keep the shirt

He thinks it’s cute that you borrow his clothes, and he probably tries to return the favor at some point

He’ll be over the moon if you let him wear your clothes from time to time

He’ll be really picky about what he takes, though, so you don’t have to worry about all your clothes suddenly disappearing

Except for hoodies. Lock them away. He will steal them all.

Zane

He notices you in his clothes immediately

He was aware that he was missing a tunic, so he made the connection pretty quickly when he saw you in it

At first he’s just confused

“Are all your clothes unfit for wearing? I did the laundry yesterday—”

“No, I just… wanted to wear yours.”

He’s still pretty confused, but he can tell that you’re happy so he lets it go

He knows it’s some kind of affectionate thing, but he doesn’t understand it personally

He starts purposefully putting some of his clothes in your drawers, just so you don’t have to “steal” them

He doesn’t care when you wear those, but he does get a little irked when you do steal from his wardrobe

Not genuinely upset, though; he just dislikes the confusion of finding something missing

As long as you let him know beforehand, he has no trouble letting you borrow whatever you want :)

And perhaps he’ll even let you keep it…..

Lloyd

Lloyd turns pink in the cheeks when he sees you in his shirt

The corner of your mouth quirks up mischievously when you see this

“Something wrong?”

“That, uh… is that my shirt?”

A smile curves his lips as he says it, but his face is still very much a dark shade of red

He thinks you look fantastic—but that’s only part of the reason that he’s blushing

The idea of you wearing something that he wore…

Indirect hug

He settles down next to you to give you a direct hug too :)

He thinks it’s cute to borrow each others’ clothes

To him it’s a sign of intimacy

So of course you guys set up an open-closet policy, and you guys often lounge in each other’s clothing

Nya

She gets so excited when she sees her shirt on you

She thinks all her clothes are nice, so she’s glad to see that you apparently agree

Enough to have stolen her shirt without asking, anyway

She wraps her arms around you from behind, pinching at the fabric and grinning

“Cute shirt.”

“Isn’t it? I got it from a place called ‘Nya’s Closet.’”

“That’s where all the good stuff is!”

She literally drags you to her room and starts pulling out clothes she thinks you’d look nice in

You guys have a little fashion show that ends late, with clothes everywhere, you in her pjs and her in yours

Needless to say, she’s more than happy to share her clothes

She knows they’re irresistibly stylish; she’s just happy you have good taste

Thanks for reading!! And thank you for your request :) take care duckies!! <33

(divider by saradika)

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flw3rrr · 2 months ago

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I love the idea of sevika with a retired brothel worker. Like they fell in love and sevika got her a job at the last drop or smth.

I also love the idea of mama sevika. I would love to give her a child 😭 so maybe domestic fluff around sevika her wife and their child. Lil' Families are my favorite thing

The bright side of things

Parings: Sevika x Retiredbrothelworker!reader

Warnings: Nothing major, Fluff, just full on FLUFF, No mentions of Y/n, and no description of reader. Sevika trying to seem tough around the kid, but fails. (100% let me know if anything is missed!)

Word count: 1.4k

Not proofread! sorry for any typos. I wrote this at like 2 am....oops

A/n: Thank you so much for this request. I loved this idea so much when I first read it, so I had to do this one immediately!

(I have so many more amazing requests in my inbox, and I'll get to them soon! Thanks so much again for sending this, and I hope you enjoy it)

Dividers by: @cafekitsune

Ever since you retired from working at the brothel, life seemed more simple and comfortable. Sevika, who you met a few months ago before your retirement, had grown onto you. The way she carried herself whenever she would stride around the building made you burn inside a little.

It all got better when you were told you were booked for an hour. Dreading what kind of person you'd have to entertain or boost their ego to make them feel something, but with a big surprise when your face met with Sevika's, she was leaning back, legs spread open as a cigar sat on her lips. That's how everything started for the both of you.

Sevika offered you a job at the last drop when you first told her of your retirement; it got tiring and exhausting physically and mentally. Your heart melted at her offer and took it immediately. It's something you never in your life thought you would work at, but what can you expect? It's a way better job than working at a brothel, body sore and no break.

You always remember to thank her whenever possible; Sevika isn't the type to show affection in public, so you'd always kiss her on the cheek and lips as a way of thanking her. Sharing each sweet moment with one another in your new shared apartment. The undercity wasn't some fairytale place to grow up, but with her presence, it made you forget everything.

Sevika likes that you took her offer on working at the last drop. She now gets to keep an eye on you, especially when she plays poker, and in the quick moment whenever you'd hand her a drink, your eye's lock on hers every time you hand her the glass, a soft and sweet look. Of course her gaze locks in yours in return, but never softens; she can't let half of the undercity that she's practically on her knees for you.

And this is where the both of you are now, still together and head over heels for one another. The two of you sat on the couch that sat in the small living room; you held a sketchbook, drawing random doodles, never being the professional type, though. Sevika just watches you making a game of her own on trying to guess what you're making or stares very confusingly at it. Everything was quiet and calm until a thump was heard from one of the bedroom doors.

The sound of feet padding against the wooden floor became louder until a small girl appeared with a huge smile on her face. Immediately she decided to join the both of you on the couch, but rather than sit, she began to jump and speak very fast.

"Can I please, please, pleaseee come to work with you, Momma? I want to make drinks with you." Speaking so fast, neither you nor Sevika could comprehend a single word. Glancing at Sevika for a quick moment and back to the child before stopping her from jumping on the couch to avoid any possible injuries.

"Selani, remember what we both said about jumping on the couch? You could get hurt easily." Her smile dropped as she looked at Sevika, who spoke about 'the couch wasn't cheap.' Selani gave a nod in return before sitting herself down onto the couch. Both you and Sevika took Selani in after you both found her alone with nobody near; it broke your heart badly, and with not much nagging, you both quickly became her adoptive parents.

You could tell Sevika cared for her just as much as you did, catching moments between the both of them, Selani play fighting with Sevika, who obviously would go easy on the kid knowing her strength would accidentally crush or break a bone. Or whenever Sevika's arm needed to be repaired or a quick fix, Selani was standing right by her, being the best helper.

Slowly shaking your head, sitting down by Sevika once more, both of you would take Selani with you to the last drop, as you had nobody to watch over her. Thank goodness for Jinx sometimes, but you never wanted to pressure her watching over some kid, but she always proves you wrong when Selani is gone, in seconds walking away with Jinx to do whatever.

Sevika did whatever Silco wanted her to do, whether it be cleaning up one of his messes with people or looking scary behind him. But she is graced with time to herself, which is usually at the table playing poker. You'd always say her playing poker was a show just for you because you got to watch her from afar enjoying the smirk her face always held as the other players held a look of defeat.

"You lucked out, kid; none of us are going today." Sevika spoke up, breaking you out of your train of thought. Selani frowned at the news of not going out. She always wanted to be out exploring or at the last drop, whether it be with Jinx or sneaking away and somehow finding Silco and bothering him; he seemed to not mind, you hoped.

"What? Why not?!" Crossing her little arms in frustration, both of her eyebrows slanted. That is the start of a tantrum you've grown to learn from the years you took her in--not fun at all, you remembered. It took both of you time to learn how to be parents to a child, having no prior experience, though Sevika had a tiny bit from when Jinx was younger.

Sevika let out a huge sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose before looking back up at Selani. "Because we both got the day off, and you usually take those for granted, trust me, kid." Selani's gaze just stared at the both of you; confusion covered her face. The both of you never had a day off, so why now all of a sudden? Adjusting your body to sit more straight, you faced her directly, a soft smile placed on your face knowing it's good to talk to her straightforwardly with a few restrictions but to help her feel more validated and that she had your attention.

"It's a good thing not to worry, Selani; it just means me and Sevika have the whole day with you to play or cook, even just relax if you wanted." As soon as those words left your mouth, her face lit up as if she saw a whole pile of candy with a sign that said free. "Really!" A toothy grin appeared with one missing front tooth. Giving her a nod, she immediately shot up, running over to the both of you.

Once she was in front of you both, you could tell many ideas of games were filling her little mind. Taking both of your hands, making you stand. "Do you guys have any game ideas?" Selani asked, pride filled within you, teaching her to always ask her friends if they had any ideas before doing all of hers to ensure a fair game. Within a second, Sevika tapped her shoulder before dragging you away, running. "Your it!" is what you had managed to comprehend.

"That's cheating!" Selani yelled, her laugh heard behind you as you both ran. Now ending up in your shared room with Sevika, you purposely slowed down, letting Selani catch up and tap you. Quietly, you both teamed up to get Sevika and corner her. She went in the other room first, then you followed behind.

Immediately, Selani ran at Sevika, jumping on her; following Selani's actions, avoiding hitting them both, the three of you land onto the bed. Laughter could be heard throughout the whole apartment. And if it was heard by anyone, they would only think how happy you all are. This was your safe spot, where happiness is the love of your life and beloved child.

Sevika carefully flipped Selani over the bed, and a game of play fighting began. You watched to make sure they both didn't get hurt, and to your surprise, Selani pulled the kick method. "You called what I did cheating. What you're doing is cheating!" She joked, a smile plastered on her face as she managed to get ahold of Selani.

In a moment, Selani whispered something to Sevika, and a grin grew as they both slowly turned to look at you. "Uh oh, what's going on?" With a blink of an eye, they both grabbed you, landing back onto the bed, Selani tickled you on your stomach.

Even if your laughs filled the room, your thoughts only held on how much you adored this moment and would cherish it forever.

Life for you got automatically better and brighter once they both entered your life, and you'd never trade it away.

#arcane sevika #arcane league of legends #sevika x reader #sevika #arcane #sevika arcane #arcane imagine #arcane fanfic #arcane fic #fluff

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orbweaverspidergirl · 1 month ago

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Can I request a platonic bat family x reader with a reader who is a massive bookworm and really shy but they want to get closer to them

Bookworm Reader - Platonic Batfam

A/N: This is a lovely ask, and I loved working on it! I hope it lived up to what you wanted, and if not send me another and I'll fix it! Thank you so much for requesting and my inbox is open.

Bruce took you in when you were thirteen. Other than Damian, you were his only biological child. Your mother had passed, and Bruce had taken you in. At first, you kept to yourself, not because you disliked any of them, but because you were simply shy. In your eyes, you just thought it was better for you to keep to yourself and your books. At least, that’s what you intended.

Dick

Dick made you quake in your introvert boots.

He was extremely outgoing, and while you enjoyed his company, he definitely unnerved you.

He knew you were shy, and so he tried to tone it down some, but he struggled with it, so it took a while for you guys to truly get close.

He wanted to get to know you better, as a sister and a friend, and so when he found out you liked books, he would try his best to relate to you with them.

While he preferred comics to novels, he would let you read to him if it meant the two of you could hang out.

While he could sometimes overwhelm you, he tried his best, and you were glad the two of you became siblings.

Jason

Jason was the first person in the Wayne household to truly crack you out of your shell.

Originally, neither of you had strong feelings for each other. He viewed you as another victim of Bruce’s nefarious past choices (when he was getting freaky) and you were simply just too shy to interact with him.

That was, until you both bumped into each other at the manor’s library.

You were on the same isle, romance. At first, it was awkward, and you two would ignore each other.

But the two of you would meet up by accident so often that you would give book recommendations to each other.

You enjoyed hanging out with him because you didn't have to worry about being social.

You both would plan hangouts and would just silently read with one another.

Tim

You and Tim got along surprisingly well.

It was hard at first to truly get to know him because he was so reclusive and was often shut in his room.

But the two of you were similar in the sense where you enjoyed being on your own, but you still wished to have a connection with your older brother.

You found out he read online novels after you went on a nightly incursion through the house and the two of you hit it off as he was waiting for more coffee.

He would often read online novels because it was just easier, and sometimes he would read fanfictions.

So, in your few interactions the two of you would rant about what you read, and you both would analyze the fanfiction together.

As time went on, a way both of you would hang out was by reading in his room while he worked, or y’all would yap about books in the middle of the night together.

Damian

Since you and Damian were very close in age, you thought you would get alone far better than with the others.

But he was extremely standoffish and rude, so you shied away from him more than you usually would.

However, he himself was a reader, and he would reluctantly offer you recommendations.

You began to do the same, and even though he made it seem like it was a bother, he would come back to you and give you a review of the book.

He would often mock what you read, but you learned soon enough that his bark had no bite.

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katsu28 · 7 months ago

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hi kait!! finally found my way into your inbox, i feel like it’s been a tiiiny bit overdue 😭

i’d love to request writing little notes on post-its and leaving them in random pages of their textbook, so that they will get a little endorphin boost when studying with oscar if that’s okay! (or max, if you wanna give a hand at writing for him)

liyah!!! you're right on time babe, thank you so much for this request! i had so much fun writing this and i'm hoping i did max justice <3

max verstappen x reader, 2k, a dash of google translated dutch lol. request something from here!

“Fuck!”

Your forehead thunks down against your open textbook for what feels like the millionth time. You feel like you’ve been staring at the same page for hours, yet you still can’t seem to make any sense of what you’re looking at, and it makes you want to scream.

Now don’t get it wrong, you love learning and you’re fortunate enough to be pursuing an advanced education, but it’s at times like these you wonder if it’s all worth it. There’s so much information to take in and not enough hours in the day to remember it all, and you’re running out of time before you have to take this godforsaken exam that could prevent you from moving to the next level of courses.

No pressure, or anything, of course.

“Careful, mijn liefje, you're too smart to be banging your head on the table like that.” Max’s voice rings out from behind you, and you’re too tired to even jump. You hadn’t even heard him let himself into your apartment, let alone sneak up on you. He leans down to press a kiss to the crown of your head.

“I don’t feel smart,” You huff, feeling his hands smooth along your shoulders. “I feel like an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot.” He replies, very as-a-matter-of-factly. His thumbs press into the knots at the base of your neck like he knows exactly where they are, rubbing slow circles. You don't see it, but he scans your surroundings with a furrowed brow as he massages your stiff muscles.

The table around you is littered with things—crumpled papers, empty Red Bull cans, an entire stationery store’s worth of pens and highlighters, and most worryingly, your still completely full water bottle. If that sight is any indication, he can safely assume you probably haven’t left your place in this chair for a while.

“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way because I mean it from a place of love, but when was the last time you got some sleep?”

“What? I dunno, like yesterday—wait, what day is it today?”

Max presses his lips into a thin line. He’s never been one to worry too much about your studies, because you’re fully capable of keeping things in order yourself, but it might be starting to get out of hand. Now feels like a good time to step in and take matters into his own hands. “If you have to think that hard about it, it’s been too long.”

Finally you look up at him, and boy is he right. You look utterly exhausted, even as you vehemently shake your head side to side. “I’m not tired, Max. I need to study.”

“You’ve been studying for ages. What you need is rest.”

“I can’t. I don’t have time for rest, I need to be ready for my exam,” You argue, already turning back to your textbook. Max crouches down next to you, blanketing your knee with a large, warm palm. His other hand eases the pen out of your grasp, fingers lacing with yours instead.

“Please take a break, schatje. If not for yourself, do it for me.”

One look at those pretty, pleading blue eyes of his and you cave, nodding defeatedly. “Maybe a little nap couldn't hurt.”

Max nods enthusiastically, gently pulling you out of your seat and towards the hallway leading to your bedroom before you have a chance to reconsider. You’re leaning heavily against him, basically already half asleep as he guides you down onto the soft mattress as easily as he can.

“Wake me up in twenty minutes, please,” You mumble, giving a sluggish tug at his hand.

“Of course.”

He won’t, but you don’t need to know that. Max will gladly take any consequences if it means you get at least an hour of rest, hopefully more. Your health and wellbeing is the most important thing to him.

Your eyes flutter shut on their own accord mere seconds later, soft snores emitting from your mouth even before Max pulls the covers up to your chin.

“Not tired, my ass,” He chuckles under his breath, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before exiting the room as quietly as he can.

While you get some much needed sleep, Max organizes your study space a little, tossing away the cans and wrappers, plugging in your computer to charge, then moves onto the kitchen and cleans up in there too.

The living room area is next on his checklist; blankets get folded and put back in their rightful spots, and windows get opened because he won’t lie, the air smells a little stale in here. He figures a complete reset and a neat area might help ease your mind when you wake up.

As he surveys his tidy job, his eyes land on your open textbook, then the massive stack of multicolored post-it notes next to it. He might not be able to help with the studying part, but there is something he can do about keeping your spirits up while you work on the former.

He settles himself into your chair, hunching over at the desk as he scribbles notes to you. Encouragements, affirmations about how bright you are and how proud he is of you, dumb jokes to hopefully make you laugh, even his best shot at the little cute doodles you draw for him on the whiteboard of his driver’s room whenever you’re in there waiting for him. Obviously, they’re nowhere near as good—Max has never claimed to be much of an artist—but hopefully they’re enough to give you a little mood boost during your study sessions.

Being careful to mark your spot, he scatters the sticky notes randomly throughout the crisp pages.

You rouse from your sleep hours later, barely able to get a word out before Max ushers you to the bathroom to relax in the hot bath he’s drawn for you. Despite your protests, you sink into the nearly scalding water (which is just the way you like it) with an appreciative sigh.

Only once you’re fresh and clean and thoroughly pampered by your boyfriend does he let you come back to where you were when he first found you earlier today. But it looks different. It’s not a mess anymore. Upon glancing around the rest of the place, you can tell that he’s done quite a bit whilst you were passed out.

“Did you…clean my apartment while I was asleep?” You ask in bewilderment, taking in the neatly organized space with wide eyes. It even smells fresh, lemony and bright and not at all like the despair of an overworked twenty something year old student during exam season.

“Yep.” Max says simply, popping the ‘p’.

“Why?” You’re not mad in any way, shape or form, just simply stunned. It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for you and Max just shrugs like it’s no big deal. His nonchalance still takes you aback sometimes.

“Thought it might help. Anyways, you get one hour to study, then you’re taking a break even if I have to drag you away from that book myself,” He warns, pinning you to the spot with a stern glare. “I’ll be in the other room, but I have a timer on, so don’t even try to pull one over on me. One hour. Call out if you need anything.”

He kisses you firmly on the side of your head and then he’s gone, leaving you alone to hit the books once more.

Slumping into the chair with a groan, you shake your head not unlike a dog would, flipping open your book again to where you’d left off. Your head feels a little clearer now, a little less foggy now thanks to Max’s efforts, and you’re hoping it’ll make a difference.

Your gaze is immediately drawn to a bright green sticky note a few pages later, off in the side margins. It isn’t one of your notes though, but rather Max’s tiny handwriting, an odd mixture of lower and uppercase letters spelling out a message.

You’re doing an amazing job. Keep pushing!

Before you know it, you’ve flipped through the entire book in your search of more notes from Max, your grin only growing bigger and bigger with each one you find.

Why don’t dinosaurs talk? Because they’re dead.

I’m proud of you for making it this far. You’re so smart.

What are Sassy and Jimmy’s favorite day of the week? Cat-urday.

If you find this one, we’ll go to Bora Bora during summer break.

That last one is tucked in the back cover, signed and dated by him. You plan to keep it as undeniable proof when the time comes, though you suspect he won’t try to deny it. He’d be happy to whisk you off to any place you wanted if you asked.

Every single one of his notes makes you grin like an idiot, but his attempts at drawing his cats are your favorite ones of all. It takes you a few moments to understand what exactly you’re looking at, but when you squint at what could be the outline of Sassy’s ears, it makes you actually laugh out loud.

Warmth spreads from your head to the tips of your toes at the thought of Max taking the time to do all this for you, even though he really didn’t have to. When you think about it, he’s always been this way—showing that he cares through his actions. Taking care of his loved ones without having to say a word. It’s one of the many things you love about him.

Like always, Max is true to his word. One hour later on the dot, he marches back in with gusto.

“Alright, break time! Let’s go get some food. Lando keeps waffling on about some Greek place that’s apparently super popular and the best he’s ever had, if you don’t mind—” He stops mid sentence and mid stride at the sight of you staring back at him. You’re not smiling, but you also don’t look angry. It’s actually a little unsettling, really. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

You barrel into Max with enough force to make him stumble backwards a few steps, wrapping your arms around his neck in a tight hug. He lets out a soft noise of surprise at having to catch you all of a sudden, one that is quickly stifled because your lips are on his now, and you’re kissing him the same way you do when he comes home after a triple header and you haven’t seen him in weeks.

The kiss is short, but teeming with emotion. Love, appreciation, gratitude—you kiss Max with everything you’ve got, and when you pull away he looks pleasantly confused.

“What was that for, schatje?” He chuckles, smoothing a hand up and down your back. You can hear the smile in his voice.

“Everything.” You mumble, pressing your face into the softness of his jumper. Another laugh rumbles through him, fonder this time.

“Everything.” He repeats. You nod against his chest, and he knows what you’re trying to say, even if you’re not saying it. He sighs contentedly, nestling his chin over the top of your head.

You’d stay like this forever if you could, if neither of you had things to do and places to be. Just you and your Max, who knows you so well you don’t even have to tell him what you need. And what you need right now is food.

Max rocks you side to side, voice light as he ponders the options, because he just knows what you’re thinking already. “If we hurry, we could probably still get a table before the Greek place closes. Or maybe not, but I’ll pay them extra to stay open for us.”

“I like the way you think, Maxie.” You beam, kissing him again. A little too quickly for his liking, but he doesn’t mind. As long as you’re happy, he’s happy.

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#requested!#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #mv33 x reader #mv1 x reader #max verstappen x fem!reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen fic #max verstappen fluff

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