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norrisjpg · 22 days ago

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only angel - ʟɴ⁴

the one where lando's best friend finally admits she's not the most experienced in the bedroom - and that's all it takes to flip their innocent dynamic.

contains; fluff, soft dom!lando, nsfw, smut; clitoral stimulation, implied masturbation, implied squirting, praise kink, mentions of fingering; inexperienced!femoc, talks of loss of virginity, swearing.

...

...

angelic rays of sunlight beamed in through the open windows of a monaco apartment, illuminating the body splayed out on the tangled white sheets of a large bed. it was summer, the air smelt of salt and ice cream, the clouds were nowhere to be seen, and the gentle breeze floated through the crisp air like a melody.

the softest of groans escaped her lips as she rolled away from the very thing that had woken her, and in her slightly hungover state, she had failed to notice how close she was to the edge of her moderately high bed.

thud!

"fuck," lily groaned, laying on the floor in a puddle of last night's carelessly discarded clothes.

footsteps echoed around the apartment, sounding like they were getting closer but she couldn't tell if it was just her throbbing head making things up. lily took a moment to glance downward, feeling a little cold at the loss of her duvet. she was wearing a bra - ew, why had she slept in a bra? - and her underwear was still on, albeit a little lower than what would be considered modest.

she gently pulled them up and managed to drag herself to her feet, and of course, this is when her door swung open. there he was - the reason for her hungover state - in all his glory, looking too good for this time in the morning.

"i heard a bang, are you okay?" lando asked, tilting his head at the girl, who looked a little dishevelled and very tired.

"fell out of bed." she murmured. "i hate you."

"how is it my fault that you fell out of bed?" he retorted, scrunching his face up in the same way he always did.

"because you got me drunk, and now i'm hungover, you twat." she huffed, picking up the clothes on the floor and tossing them into her laundry basket, not bothered by her lack of clothing in front of him.

"oh, get over yourself." lando rolled his eyes with a playful grin.

her response was a grumpy middle finger and she shooed him out of her bedroom, mumbling something about a beauty sleep and how men are so annoying - so lando just left her to it.

in all honesty, his mind had been running at a million miles an hour all morning - reeling from something lily had so casually mentioned last night.

"hey, i'm not a slut!" she slurred, in the cutest way possible.

a joking comment had been made by one of her closest friends, alexandra, about how her dress was a little slutty, and in all honesty it was. alex knew she could say these things to lily because well, they had been best friends before lily even knew who lando was... so a long time.

"if anything, i'm the opposite of a slut." lily giggled softly, leaning back into lando, his arm was draped over her shoulders. "harry and i never had sex anyway and-"

before she could elaborate, their friends returned with the next round of drinks, and the topic of conversation switched rapidly.

surely not.

harry and lily had dated for five years, from when she was sixteen, until she was twenty-one. their relationship was great, until new years' eve of twenty-nineteen came around. lily was well aware that harry was growing impatient with her. harry wanted sex, lily didn't feel she was ready yet. it's not that she felt pressured, but that she wanted to please him, so here she was. to cut a long and slightly traumatic story short, lily had gotten scared as harry was unzipping his jeans - and literally ran away.

somehow, the couple didn't break up for another two years - but the real reason behind that was that once harry realised he wasn't going to be - in his words - 'hitting it' any time soon, he found release in the grasp of some girl he went to college with in maranello. he cheated on lily for two years, and she didn't suspect a thing until he came to visit her after the covid lockdown.

they'd gone out for lunch, and harry had let it slip that he'd had to buy plan b pills recently - and well, that was the end of that.

now, it was news to lando that she and harry hadn't ever gotten intimate with each other - and well, he knew she hadn't brought anyone back to their apartment in time they'd been living together, but surely she'd been getting laid elsewhere.

it would make sense in some ways though. he always noticed how she'd flush a pretty pink colour when ever his hand lingered on her waist, how she'd look undoubtedly flustered whenever his gaze was trained on her, and how she'd become increasingly uncomfortable when a sex scene played in a movie they were watching.

surely not though, right?

lando's dangerous train of thought was interrupted by the soft thudding of footsteps travelling to his ears. his head snapped up to the girl rubbing her eyes, stood groggily behind the couch he was sat on.

"i thought you were having your beauty sleep?" lando teased, raising his eyebrows at the brunette girl, now dressed in the quadrant rugby shirt he had exclusively gifted her in january.

"couldn't sleep, my head hurts too bad." she mumbled, rolling her eyes at his teasing comment. "why do i let you get me drunk?"

"because you love me, duh." he responded, somewhat sassily, making a quiet laugh tumble from her lips.

"whatever, norris." she breathed out, walking over to the kitchen and grabbing some aspirin out of the cupboard below the sink.

she downed two pills along with a cold glass of water, wincing as she felt the cold liquid travel down to her stomach. lando's gaze was lingering, like it usually did - the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed, the way she squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her jaw as the pills were taken down in her pretty mouth - she was just so... enticing.

"come here." lando beckoned softly, gesturing for her to come lay with him. "you can nap here if you want."

"please." she groaned softly, plopping down on the couch next to me and immediately resting her head on his lap.

he noticed the goosebumps rippling across her skin, wondering whether he was causing them, or it was because she was cold. he went with the latter, and pulled the wool blanket on the armrest over her body.

"thankyou." lily murmured, reaching up for his hand to hold, innocently craving some physical touch.

he gently entwined their fingers, caressing her hand with his large thumb. within about three or four minutes, lily had drifted off into a sweet slumber, snuggling into lando's warmth.

...

it had been driving lando quite literally insane all day.

he didn't have the courage to straight up ask her if she was a virgin or not, so here he was, dancing around the question like a fucking tap dancer.

"so you and harry?" lando said quietly, almost praying that she wouldn't hear him.

her head snapped up from her phone, eyebrows knitted together in a confused frown. "yes?"

"well, i mean you never really told about why he's made you not want to date anyone." lando shrugged, his tone seeming a little apprehensive, not wanting to strike a nerve. "like i know he cheated on you, but was that the only thing?"

"um..." she pursed her lips, a little gobsmacked that he was even bringing up the subject of harry, a typically sore topic for her - but she answered nonetheless. "he always pushed me for sex, and... i wasn't ready back then."

"he didn't... did he?" the pause in lando's words made it clear what he meant.

"oh god, no, nothing like that, don't worry." lily shook her head quickly. "but we were like so close to doing it once, and i got scared - then he kind of just... never tried again."

"oh." oh? ask her the question, dumbass. "so... you didn't lose your virginity to him then?"

"no," the brunette shook her head softly.

"when did you lose it then?" lando said quickly, the words falling from his mouth before he even registered the question.

lily went what only can be described as crimson. it's not that she was embarrassed - well, actually she was. lily thought it was a bad thing - she was a literal model, and at the grand age of twenty-three, she still hadn't lost her v-card.

she hesitated, before murmuring, "i- uh... i haven't."

"oh." do you really not have anything better to say, dipshit?

"yeah." she pursed her lips once more, averting her gaze to an inanimate object somewhere in the room.

"do you want to?" lando himself now had no idea where this was going, he was kind of just rolling with whatever fell out of his mouth now.

"of course i do." she huffed. "it's just... i don't want to lose it to some random guy i meet on raya or some shit. and i feel like it's going to put people off, like they're going to think something is wrong with me."

a soft frown made its way onto lando's face, and he shook his head.

"nothing is wrong with you, lily." the brit reassured her. "don't ever think that there's something wrong with you because you weren't ready for sex when someone pushed you for it."

she fell quiet, taking in his words gratefully, looking down at her hands in her lap.

"anyway, i'd rather have some experience before i launch myself into dating again." she admitted, glancing up at lando to gage his reaction - she wasn't really sure what she was suggesting, but she wanted to see what lando thought of it. "but i just... don't know where to get said experience."

lando contemplated, trying to decide whether he should just offer himself up on a platter or not. in all honesty, the thought of her dating anyone else made him feel physically nauseous, let alone the new knowledge that she'd be letting someone else be her first - that made him want to die in a puddle of his own tears.

"well..." he began, his words trailing off. "i could always um... help you out."

she slowly lifted her head up, looking at him with a dazed expression, not sure if she'd heard him right. "what?"

"i wouldn't mind uh.. helping you gain some experience." lando repeated, a little more confident from seeing the dazed look in her eyes. "teach you what us guys like, teach you what you like."

lily blinked at her best friend, furrowing her eyebrows. "really?"

"if you'd be up for it, yeah." he nodded, leaning back against the couch a little more. "and we'd go slow, promise. we can take it at whatever pace you'd like, sweetheart."

the way he called her 'sweetheart' made her inner thighs tingle and heat pool in her lower tummy. she simply nodded, too in shock from this agreement they'd just made - was she really going to fuck her best friend in the somewhat near future?

"words, come on." he said slowly, gesturing for her to come to him on the other side of the couch.

"yeah, yeah." she breathed out, getting up and walking to him. "i want that."

"sit." he patted his lap, and she just stared, doe-eyed.

he chuckled softly, leaning up and grabbing her hips, pulling her down on his lap so she was straddling him, her face now at a level height with him.

"is this okay?" he murmured softly, pushing her hair behind her shoulder, mapping out all the places he wanted to kiss her.

"yeah," she breathed out. "i'll tell you if it's not."

"atta' girl." he praised softly, and could have whined at his words.

okay, so lando hadn't even touched her and he'd already discovered she had a praise kink - a good start.

instead of whining, her breath hitched and her cheeks flushed once again, earning a soft smirk from lando as he traced his index finger over her jawline.

"can i kiss you, pretty girl?" lando asked softly, now cupping her jaw with one hand, and drawing circles on her tummy with the other.

it's like her whole world stopped, that sentence was like music to her ears.

"yeah." she breathed out, eyes flicking over the drop-dead gorgeous features on his tanned face.

usually, lando was a sucker for rough sex, fast and hard. but, while he knew he had to be gentle with her - something else about her just made him want to treat her like glass. he wanted her to fall apart in his arms, but in the most loving and delicate way possible.

so, he leant in, his head a little tilted, briefly brushing their noses together before softly connecting their lips. her breath hitched and he could feel her body melting into his, the delicious weight of her feather-light body deepening into his lap. and that wasn't the only thing changing in his lap.

his cock was hard, painfully hard already. he was pathetic, he had literally only just kissed the girl and he was about ready to cum in his boxers.

the kisses were soft and delicate, tongue involved but it wasn't like he was about to devour her whole. he gently pried her legs apart a little further with his free hand, the one previously tracing circles onto her abdomen.

the most angelic of moans left her lips, and she seemed a little shocked, the movement of her lips faltering briefly. he opened his eyes, tilting her head back with the hand on her jaw, beginning his toe-curling attack on her neck. he nipped at the sensitive skin gently, soothing the area with his lips shortly after - repeating those actions had her a wet mess in his lap within minutes.

she was whining, whimpering, pleading with him to just do something, anything, everything.

lily's pretty pink lips were parted as soft, airy moans tumbled from her lips, her head still tilted back as he peppered kisses across all the right spots. his fingers were toying at the edge of her underwear in between her legs, relishing in the dampness coating his fingertips - she was soaked, the warm liquid coating the crease of her inner thighs.

he pulled his head away from her neck briefly, gazing at her for permission, earning a needy yes from the angel on top of him.

"wanna hear you, okay?" he told her gently, knowing that as this was her first time, she'd be more likely to hold back her pretty noises.

she nodded, biting her lower lip as her breathing turned a little more rapid and a little more shallow.

"good girl." he praised once more, and the heat rolled up her body once more.

lando slid his fingers underneath her panties, bunching them and pushing them to the side. her hips jolted a little as his knuckles brushed over her dripping folds, and he could have groaned at how sensitive the girl was.

"relax." he murmured softly, flicking his stare back up at her face.

he slid his index finger in between her folds, coating his thick fingers with her sweet juices. his jaw fell a little agape as he gaged just how wet she was.

"fucking hell," he murmured, but it fell on deaf ears, lily too focused on relaxing - her lower lip pulled between her teeth and her eyes fluttered closed.

he slid his ring finger beside his index, parting her folds and dragging his middle finger up and down her sensitive cunt.

the urge to just slip his fingers inside of her and make her cum until she couldn't speak was almost irresistible, almost.

he let her get used to the feeling, before switching his singular middle finger for the pad of his thumb, which he pressed directly against her clit.

"fuuuuck-" she moaned out, eyebrows arching as she tossed her head back. "so good- shit-"

lando just admired her as he slowly traced circles and figures of eights on her sensitive bundle of nerves - the most needy moans now falling from her lips frequently, the volume increasing in tandem with the speed of his thumb.

he increased the pressure and she doubled over into his body, pressing her head into his shoulder and biting down on his skin gently - earning a soft noise from him.

"lando- god-" she whined, moaning out his name like a fucking prayer.

he rubbed her back soothingly with his free hand, while increasing the speed of his thumb once more. her entire body was buzzing, bubbling with anticipation of the rapidly incoming orgasm. her lower abdomen was coiled tight, ready to snap at any moment now.

one particularly rough flick of her clit sent her spiralling, her thighs beginning to shake softly around him as she came, hard. sweet liquid gushed all over his hand as she moaned and whimpered his name loudly, coating his fingers as he slowed his movements to coax her through her intense orgasm. it was pure fucking bliss.

lily panted slowly into his neck, her head reeling from the best thing she'd ever felt in her entire life.

"you okay, baby?" lando asked quietly, pressing a soft kiss to her neck.

"fucking hell." she breathed out. "yeah, i'm good, so good."

he chuckled softly, looking at the seemingly-spent girl in his arms. he didn't want to push her any further today, she looked like she was going to fall asleep right there and then.

"come on, let's get you to bed." lando cooed softly, lifting her up from the couch and walking lily to her bedroom.

fuck, he was going to need a cold shower after that.

...

hello! this is my first official series, and i'm super excited about it! i don't have a name for it so feel free to suggest, and any comments in general are appreciated :)

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 fanfic #fanfiction #f1 2024 #lando norris #lando norris one shot #lando norris smut #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #whorelandonorris

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zhelin-thames · 1 month ago

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Bruce has another kid........but this one is not adopted #2

Danny lounged on the couch in the Batcave, his feet propped up as he casually flipped through some of Bruce’s files. Damian stood nearby, arms crossed, scowling.

“It doesn’t matter,” Damian huffed. “I am Father’s heir. It is my birthright.”

Danny smirked, glancing at him over the top of the tablet. “Hate to break it to you, little bro, but I’m older. By all of three minutes, but hey, it still counts.”

“You have no proof,” Damian snapped, his voice sharp.

“Actually,” Tim interjected, walking in with a file in hand, “it’s right here. Clockwork dropped the records off yesterday. Danny’s technically the firstborn.”

Damian’s face twisted into a mix of shock and outrage. “This is preposterous! I trained for years in the League to be the heir. He—” Damian gestured at Danny, who was now grinning smugly, “—is a half-ghost nomad raised by peasants!”

“Whoa, peasants?” Danny said, holding up his hands. “I’ll have you know I was raised by two highly educated ghost hunters who built portals to alternate dimensions in their basement. So technically, I was raised by nerds.”

Jason, leaning against the wall, barked out a laugh. “This just keeps getting better.”

Things escalated when Danielle made her debut in Gotham. She’d been causing a bit of chaos in Amity Park, and Danny figured bringing her to the Manor might help her channel her energy.

When Dani strutted into the Batcave, grinning like a gremlin with her wild energy, the reactions were... mixed.

“She’s my clone,” Danny explained, his tone casual. “But I kinda see her more like a daughter.”

“Daughter?” Damian repeated, his voice low and dangerous. “You... have a daughter?”

Dani, ever the instigator, threw her arms around Danny’s waist. “Yup! My Dad’s the best!” she chirped, shooting a cheeky grin at Damian. “He’s way cooler than you, by the way.”

Damian bristled, his hands curling into fists. “You’re barely older than me, yet you have already claimed an heir?” His voice trembled with a mix of indignation and something close to panic.

Danny raised an eyebrow. “She’s not an ‘heir.’ She’s just... Dani. And technically, she’s my clone, not my biological kid. It’s complicated.”

But Damian was already lost in his own spiraling thoughts.

Late that night, Damian approached Jason. “Todd,” he said, his tone serious. “I require your assistance.”

Jason blinked. “Uh, with what?”

“I must find a suitable candidate to bear my child.”

Jason stared at him for a long moment before bursting into laughter. “You’re joking. Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I am not,” Damian replied, his expression unyielding. “If Daniel has already produced a successor, then I must act swiftly to secure my own lineage.”

Jason clutched his stomach, wheezing. “Oh, man, this is rich. Demon Spawn wants to have a baby just to one-up his ghost brother.”

“It is not a matter of one-upmanship,” Damian insisted, though the faint pink tinge in his cheeks said otherwise.

The next morning, Danny caught wind of Damian’s... ambition. He found his younger twin in the training room, furiously sparring with a practice dummy.

“Hey, Dames,” Danny said, leaning against the doorframe.

“Do not call me that,” Damian growled, landing a particularly vicious strike on the dummy.

Danny held up his hands. “Okay, okay. But I heard a little rumor. Something about you wanting to, uh, find a lady to have a kid with?”

Damian froze mid-strike, then turned to glare at Danny. “Who told you that?”

Danny smirked. “Doesn’t matter. Look, man, you don’t need to go all ‘League heir’ about this. Dani’s not my biological kid. She’s a clone. Like, literally made from my DNA. I didn’t exactly sign up for the whole ‘parent’ thing—it just kinda happened.”

Damian’s glare softened slightly, though his posture remained stiff. “And yet, you claim her as your own.”

“Yeah, because she’s family,” Danny said simply. “She needed someone, so I stepped up. That’s what family does.”

Damian lowered his gaze, his fists unclenching. “I see.”

A few weeks later, Talia’s clone assassins made their move. But instead of eliminating them, Damian captured and brought them to the Manor.

“Father,” he declared, standing proudly before Bruce, “I have decided to take responsibility for these clones. They are my family, and I will train them to uphold the legacy of the League.”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “Damian—”

“Not bad, kid,” Jason said, clapping him on the back. “But you might want to workshop the pitch. Sounds a little murder-y.”

Tim groaned. “Great. Now we have more mini-Damians running around.”

Danny, watching from the sidelines with Dani by his side, couldn’t help but laugh. “Guess I’m rubbing off on him.”

“You think he’s doing this to one-up you?” Dani asked.

“Absolutely,” Danny replied, grinning. “And I love it.”

While the Bat-family adjusted to the sudden influx of clones, Danny and Damian’s relationship began to shift. Though their rivalry remained, it was tempered by a growing mutual respect.

“I still do not approve of your cavalier attitude,” Damian said one night as they patrolled Gotham together.

“And I still think you need to loosen up,” Danny shot back.

Damian huffed but didn’t argue. Deep down, he was starting to appreciate having an older brother who wasn’t afraid to challenge him—or support him.

And for Danny, seeing his once-distant twin slowly open up was worth all the sibling squabbles in the world.

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xervn · 2 months ago

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till the sun is up

oneshot | cowboy sevika

ao3 link

summary: porch sex. that's about it.

18+ MDNI | 2k words | tags; modern au, cowboy sevika (doesn't play a big part though), established relationship, sevika has both arms (sorry, ik, i love it too), kissing, vaginal fingering, orgasm denial, no use of y/n, porn w/ plot if you squint

took me weeks to write this because i'm lazy and a student, but i'm still in love with sevika. sorry if there's grammatical errors, i mostly wrote this with one hand (im joking)

It’s six-oh-something AM and you woke up to an empty bed; nothing but wrinkled sheets where your wife is supposed to be. You figure she’s keeping herself busy and will be back soon, so in the meantime, you tie your robe around your waist for a little warmth and head downstairs.

You get started on breakfast, turning on the griddle, and taking note of the things you guys need to stock up on. However, by the time you’re done, Sevika has still not shown up. You’re not used to waking up without seeing her, although the only reason you’re up right now is because you didn’t feel her next to you.

“She must be in the barn.” You assume, making your way to the front door and to the porch. As expected, the horses are out, which could only mean Sevika was too. You make your own binoculars with your hands, trying to see if you can spot your wife in the distance, until you hear a soft grunt right beside you.

A peaceful sight, Sevika napping on a wooden armchair like an uncle at a family gathering— you giggle at that— with her cowboy hat being used as a sleeping mask. You hate to have to wake her up, but you made her breakfast! And she should’ve been sleeping next to you anyways.

“Vika..” You lean down to peek at her face, but, of course, her hat is blocking her eyes. “Vika, baby?” You squat down to plant a kiss on her cheek where you can manage, and she hums awake. “There you are.”

Sevika grunts and you giggle. She sits up and pulls her hat back on her head, squinting at the early morning sun that’s still rising, but somehow found a perfect angle to blind her. She turns to look at you instead. “Hey, sweetheart.” She greets with a rasp.

You spot her discomfort and use your body to block the incoming light for her. “Hi, I missed you.”

She smiles sleepily and reaches for your waist. She guides you down to sit on her lap and you happily let her. “‘M sorry. Woke up too early, thought I’d let the horses out and watch the sunrise...” She says before looking away to yawn.

You gasp lightly, “Without me?” You clutch at your chest and Sevika chuckles at your theatrics.

She gently tries to move your hand into hers, but you resist. She shakes her head, laughing, “No, no, no. Baby, please, I didn’t want to wake you.”

“But you made it sound so romantic.. I wouldn’t mind.” You pout. Sevika gives you a doubtful look and you pretend not to see it.

“You’re not nice when I wake you up.” She reminds you.

“I would’ve been nice this time.” You lie.

“I didn’t want to test that.”

You playfully roll your eyes, “Oh, whatever.” You shift to get up, but Sevika quickly anchors you down.

“Where are you going?” She questions with her hands on you firmly; one around your waist and on your stomach, and the other indented in your thigh like you might float away.

“Ease up, cowgirl. I made breakfast. I made you breakfast.” You reply, placing your hand on her cheek.

“Oh? What’d you make?” She asks as she leans her face into your touch, innocently. Her hands don’t budge.

“Bacon, eggs,” you list and Sevika nods in approval, “Pancakes, and coffee...” You drawl, and her eyes shut as she groans. “Uh-huh, are you gonna join me?” You ask, resting your hands on her chest and waiting for her answer.

She looks you in the eyes, until her gaze starts to go south, lingering at the low neckline of your nightgown. Your cleavage makes a sudden appearance she didn’t notice at first. Sevika was half-awake, but she’s definitely not anymore; whistling at the sight of you. Her grasp on your thigh leaves and goes to pull your satin robe down your shoulder. Surprised, you scold, “Sevika!”

“What?” She goes for the other shoulder and you make no attempts to stop her. “I can’t admire my wife?” She says, resting her rough hand on your thigh again, but this time she’s slowly massaging it up and down.

“You can, but I made you breakfast and it’ll get cold.”

“Baby, that’s what microwaves are for.” She coos, venturing her hand between your legs, slowly making her way up.

They almost flinch shut and Sevika awes. Your face turns warm and you look away, towards your surroundings, and although she's right about the food, you guys are still outside. You mutter out, “But..”

“But what?” She asks. You continue to aimlessly look in the distance, even though you know damn well there’s nothing but farmland and horses. Sevika chuckles, “The horses don’t care and we don’t get visitors. Even if we did, you know I’d kill ‘em before they could see you like this, right?” You fix your lips to respond, but you pause when the hand on your stomach moves down to the lace hemline of your gown. Her fingers curl underneath, waiting to search. “I miss you.” She whispers.

Her words tug at your heart and her puppy eyes burn into you. You didn’t need much convincing anyways, but you fold and you mumble out, “I know what you’re doing...” Your marriage has taught two things, if Sevika “misses you” she either really does, or she really wants to fuck you.

You reach for her hat and perch it on your head; an unspoken rule about cowboys Sevika once said. She grins up at you as you slide your hand over her shoulder, closing some distance between you two.

“I do miss you, I miss you all the time.” She assures, leaning in to freely press kisses on your shoulder. Her fingers finally lift your dress and her kisses begin to trail towards your neck. You can deduce which “missing” she meant, and you feel the same way.

Exhaling, you tip your head to the side to give her more room. Sevika’s lips marking the new territory makes you tremble like it was the first time. It’s no surprise that after years of being together, she still makes your heart race.

You move with her as she leans back, tugging you towards her. You involuntarily let out a squeak that she snickers at, and she gives you a kiss on the cheek and several more, distracting you from her spreading your legs indecently; hooking your outer leg over her strong forearm.

She wastes no time to ride up the front of your nightgown, showcasing your plain, flimsy, black, cat-themed underwear. Sevika doesn’t bat an eye, of course, she’s used to it.

Right now, she’s only focused on one thing. Her hand purposefully ghosts over, so she can ogle at you writhing with anticipation. Your knitting brows, heavy breathing— it excites her. She’s getting worked up from watching you. “Look how bad you want it.” She teases affectionately.

Sevika presses her middle finger on your damp, clothed clit, observing and feeling every reaction that pulses from you. You let out a soft curse and she rewards it by moving her finger in tight circles. Sevika listens to how your breath staggers and clenches from the ache between her own legs. She tugs your underwear to the side to properly admire how wet you are. The cool, morning air makes you shiver.

Pinning the fabric with her ring finger, she sensually swipes her middle up your folds. “All for me?”

Her voice has you melting, throbbing, and you're unable to contain the whine that escapes you. Sevika’s gaze locks on your lips the second she hears it, as if she’s hunting for the next one. You make sure she’ll be able to catch it, meeting her halfway for a kiss.

She grins as your mouths collide, eyes fluttering shut and lips passionately fitting together like a two-piece puzzle. She brings another finger to aid her in rubbing soft circles on your clit; just enough to build pressure, but not enough to relieve it. The tip of her tongue runs over your parted bottom lip, waiting for an invitation in, and you allow it with a breathy moan. She languidly teases her tongue across yours, then pulls away just to watch you follow after her— which you do— and you can see how much she got off on it.

Panting impatiently, “Sev…“ But you trail off as she gravitates towards you with another magnetizing, searing kiss. Your hands find the side of her neck, brushing up her nape.

She sweetly pecks your lips, breaking away for a second, “You’re,” she kisses you again, “Just,” and again, “So,” and again, “Pretty. I had to look.” She murmurs.

Your face becomes home for a cheesy smile Sevika reciprocates dotingly. You lean in to kiss her, and as your lips brush against each other’s, her fingers suddenly resume their movement, this time firmly and relieving. You whimper over her lips, and she chuckles darkly against yours. She kisses you deeply as she steadily coaxes your clit on a perfect pressure point.

Your legs begin to bow together from the overwhelming sensation, slowly coming to its climax, and Sevika takes it as a sign to slip her fingers into you. The stretch hurts good as she curls her fingers into ‘come-hither’ motions right where you need them. The previous build up resumes instantly and you’re back where you left off, right on the brink.

“Vika, I’m gonna…“ You softly cry out, unable to finish your words because she only increases her speed at the mention of her name. Now her thick fingers are squelching in and out of you and the sounds are fogging your brain. If it wasn’t for the chirping birds and the huffing horses in the distance, you would’ve forgotten where you were.

“Not yet, just a little longer.” She says— demands even.

You sob out a moan, akin to a tantrum, “I can’t— fuck — I can’t.”

Sevika plants a kiss on the corner of your lips; her fingers refusing to stop hitting your rough spot. “You can, baby. You don’t want me to stop, do you?” She whispers.

She puts up a good point you can’t argue. You don’t want her to stop, you’d hate for her to stop. “N- No, but maybe slow— hnng— d— shit— down?” You bargain half-heartedly in stutters and stammers.

“Where’s the fun in that? And if you come right now, so help me god.” She growls. Yet, the way she’s fucking you is telling you the opposite; there’s a thin line on torture and mind-breaking pleasure she’s crossing and you love it. You try not to love it too much before you explode on the spot.

She can see how much you're trying, squirming, whining with every fast-paced stroke. One word from her and you’d come undone: that’s her favorite part. She extends her free arm, the one propping your leg up, and she puts four fingers on your clit, then rubs it harshly. That does it. You actually can’t hold it anymore unless you want half an orgasm. Your head jerks back and Sevika’s cowboy hat begins to slide off your head. There’s tears in your eyes, your legs are weak and shaking. You need it, you need it bad.

And she gives it to you. “Such a good girl. Go on, come for me.”

Your release hits hard, like a cork popping off a champagne bottle. Your eyes pin shut as it reverberates down to your toes, and courses up your spine. You let out high-pitched, breathy moans, and Sevika harmonizes— not mockingly — soothingly, as she softly rubs out your orgasm. Your underwear falls back in place as she removes her fingers out of you and off of you. You wince and she murmurs an apology with a smug smile.

“Holy shit,” You exhale as your legs fall over Sevika’s thighs. You can feel the air getting warmer, and as your eyes flutter open, the sky is colored a blue only a risen sun could paint. “I love you.”

“I love you.” She replies with a smile.

“Your turn now.”

She laughs heartily, briefly biting her lower lip, “But I thought the breakfast was gonna get cold?”

You grin, “‘That’s what microwaves are for.’”

#sevika #sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika smut #sevika x y/n #sevika x female reader

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rhaenyratargcryen · 6 months ago

Text

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

masterlist ❈

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

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

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

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

It has been one hell of a week.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do we get cookies, Tyler?”

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

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

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

“You need any help over here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Please let it be the only time.

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

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

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

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

“Where we headin’?”

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

“How nearby is ‘nearby,’ Boone?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s goin’ on in your head? Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So what was that all about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do what?”

“Laugh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seriously. You always know what to say.”

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

“What’s up?”

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

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

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

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

“Tyler?”

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

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

“Stay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Doesn’t feel so good, now does it?”

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

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

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

“What?”

“We’re gonna shower, baby, c’mon.”

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

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

“Shampoo?”

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

“Turn around.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you –”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Was that good?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want me to stay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn, Owens!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you know about this?”

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

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

“So they knew?! That’s cheating!”

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

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

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

“Or something.”

#twisters #twisters 2024 #twisters movie #glen powell #tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens smut #glen powell x reader #glen powell smut #as a former tyler dater this was soooo triggering for me to write #JFNLKQJBNF

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devotedlyandrogynousyouth · 3 months ago

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Mean! Jason Todd

Mean! Jason Todd who dated one of your old friends from highschool a few years ago before it fell through. Whenever you and your friends would meet up, he always had something to say about you.

"Jeez, thought we were going to the lounge, not a strip club."

Mean! Jason Todd who absolutely shattered your best friend's heart when they broke up. You were left to pick up the pieces as he did god knows what.

"Not my fault your little group is filled with whores. She just had to go and get another guy's dick wet." (You found out later that she had, in fact, cheated on Jason.)

Mean! Jason Todd who contacts you out of the blue after months of him being blocked on your phone because he wouldn't stop calling the rest of your friends cruel names.

"Hey, sorry to bother u. Just need a pick me up rn. U busy?"

Mean! Jason Todd coming over for a couple of drinks because he didn't want to be alone and really did care about your friend.

"I just... I thought it mattered. At least a little. And the only thing that sucks ass is that I know it would've happened whether I was a better person or not."

Mean! Jason Todd who gets a lot more bold while tipsy and takes your joke about '[his] dick probably not being the issue," and how he could get "any girl [he] wanted looking like that," a little too seriously.

"God, just tell me you're trying to get into my pants, already. What would your little friend think, hm?"

Of course, it was just a tease.

But you didn't care what your friends thought.

Mean! Jason Todd who you don't even know how you ended up underneath, his hands greedily grasping at your flesh as he pounds you from behind.

"Look at how well you take me..." A soft groan. "Almost like you've been waiting for this. This what you wanted? To get cockdrunk from your best friend's ex?"

Mean! Jason Todd who absolutely pounds you and is so mean about how much you whine and beg, even though he's to blame.

"All those pretty noises just for me? Fucking pathetic... Must've been so desperate for this cock and waiting for it. You wanted my cock that fucking badly?"

Mean! Jason Todd who thinks you have eyes too big for your holes. Sure, you guessed he would be big, based on what your friend told you when they were together but he was huge.

"Look at that... See how good you're stretching out for me? Must've just been made for this cock... Thats right. All youre good for is taking my cock so well."

Mean! Jason Todd who's gone before you wake up in the morning, but leaves an advil and cup of water on your nightstand.

"Got a new number. Call me when you need another drink."

The note he left next to your cup of water.

Maaterlist

#batman #batfam #batfamily #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd #redhood x reader #redhood #arkham knight x reader #arkham knight

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i7nn8a · 30 days ago

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part two of this

Your gods must bless you greatly. That was what Sukuna thought when you knelt before him, reminding him of the day he first saw you. It had been three months since he brought you to his estate, utterly intrigued by you, and that fascination had only grown. It took him three months to realize that the words you spoke to him weren’t a joke.

In your first days with him, Sukuna simply watched you from a distance. You were quiet and didn’t trouble him with any issues, something he greatly appreciated. You had a routine—one he memorized. In the mornings, you would have breakfast with his concubines, silently. He could tell you hadn’t made many friends.

After breakfast, you would head to some isolated corner of the fields surrounding the house and either read a book or perform some sort of ritual. Occasionally, he caught glimpses inside the box you carried from place to place. It was difficult to see from his hidden vantage points, but he managed to discern that it contained elements for an altar, where he had seen you praying and even, he thought, blessing objects.

When lunch came, he noticed you would take your meal and eat alone in another room, avoiding company altogether. Afterward, you would write—only write—in what appeared to be a diary.

At dinner, however, you would dine with him. Just the two of you. Most nights, the meal was consumed in silence, but on some occasions, you spoke to him. Unlike others, you didn’t fear him. When he asked why, you simply replied that fearing him was akin to fearing death, and death was merely a way to reach eternity. You said your soul would go everywhere: to the flowers, the air, and the moon, whom you called "mother." Over time, Sukuna found himself growing more and more interested in you, paying less and less attention to everything around him.

You had peculiar habits. On full moon nights, you would cut a strand of your hair and bury it. You would place water outside to absorb the moonlight and retrieve it before sunrise. You murmured strange words while combing your hair. What Sukuna saw were harmless, mundane spells—until now.

It happened two weeks ago. One of the concubines, jealous of the attention you were receiving, burned some of your books, ruined your belongings, and destroyed everything inside the box that held your altar materials. You were furious. Sukuna enjoyed seeing that side of you, but it was short-lived. You quickly composed yourself, acting cold and indifferent, as though nothing had happened.

But he had seen it. He had heard it. When night fell, you went outside the estate, unaware of the four eyes watching you. A diagram, drawn with your own blood, marked the ground. Incense was lit, and words were whispered—words incomprehensible but melodic, like a chant or a foreboding omen.

The next day, the woman who destroyed your belongings began to wither. It took about eight days. It was astonishing. First, her hair started falling out and turning white. Then her teeth rotted, or those that didn’t simply fell out. Her skin became wrinkled, like that of someone a century old, not a woman of 20. Her bones grew fragile. She couldn’t sleep, claiming demons haunted her dreams. The doctors couldn’t explain it; no one could. Well, Sukuna could.

The more lifeless the woman became, the more radiant you appeared. Your hair shone brighter, your skin grew softer, and your lips gained a richer color. He understood everything. It didn’t take long for the servants and the rest of the harem to connect the dots, remembering that when the king first met you, you had been accused of witchcraft. It wasn’t long before they dragged you before him once more, bound.

And here you were, accused again. The difference was that now he knew you were guilty. The similarity was that he still didn’t care. If you hadn’t taken care of her, he would have done it himself. But something about the way you did it had left him spellbound. Your eyes still looked at him without a trace of fear, and your lips still curved into a small smile. You didn’t fear him, and he had no idea how far you were willing to go.

The other concubines knelt around you, begging him to punish you. Yet the only thing he could focus on was how you would look with that same defiant gaze, crying and drooling, kneeling between his legs.

He must have fallen under the witch’s spell.

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fictionalmenxyn · 4 months ago

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hi can you write rafe x wife. Happily married and have 3 teen kids. Sons friends comes over and talks about mom as milf( idk maybe something else up to u) and Rafe and his wife hear it! Then Rafe f*cks her

of course I can!!

•———•

ఌ𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧ఌ

Pairing: husband!rafe x wife!reader

Warnings: SMUT, language, p in v, fingering, no mentions of protection (be safe, wrap it before u tap it!), breeding kink, dirty talk, possessive/jealous Rafe.

Feel free to send more reqs! Thinking of doing dad!Rafe so send me things you’d like to see! Or more husband!rafe idm! Anything!

🝮🝮🝮

Just getting home from work, you got out of your Range Rover. Collecting your handbag, laptop and some papers from the back seat.

You headed into yours and Rafe’s estate. Walking through the front door. You already knew your three sons had friends over. Your eldest, Cody had asked you over text. You slip your heels off by the door and walk through the large foyer and over to the spacious living room. You smiled as you saw your boys Cody (17), Morgan (16) and Ollie (14 1/2). You spoke “hey boys, you all having fun?” They all said their “heys” and “yeah, thanks”.

You subtly noticed the way their friends eyed you up. Teenage boys never really cared if you saw them checking woman out. Well, these lot didn’t. You looked over to the attached large kitchen, smiling as you see Rafe.

You walked over, putting your things onto the counter. Rafe was leaning forward. His elbows on the counter as he watched the tv from the kitchen as your sons and their friends had soccer on. You walked over to Rafe. Smiling as you put your hand on his back. “Hey, love, you ok?” He turns his head to look at you. His famous grin plastered on his face. “Yeah, all good, how’s work?” He pulls you by the waist. Giving you a soft but firm kiss, showing you how much he missed you since you left this morning. You pull away to answer “good, made some great photos today, all I have to do is change the lighting and tone..” he smiled and pecked your lips “good, can I watch it while you do it?”

Rafe loved what you did. You were a photographer for models, perfume/jewellery commercials or fashion designers. You took the photos and edited them to put on magazines or advertisements. He loved how much you enjoyed your job to.

You nodded “of course, Rafey” he smiled “good girl..” you pecked his cheek.

You sat at the island counter, going through the photos on your laptop. As Rafe leaned against the counter, arms crossed, taking the occasional sip from his drink.

You both overheard Cody and his friend talk. His friend, Jack, asked “dude, is that your older sister or something?” Cody asked “who?” Jack replied “the one that’s in the kitchen with your dad.” Cody shook his head “nah man, that’s my mom.” Jack replied “no fucking way?? She’s so hot, dude, your mom is such a milf, no joke.”

Rafe practically chocked on his drink, as your eyes widen and press your hand to your forehead. A quiet gasp escaped your lips. What did Jack just say? You couldn’t be going mad, Rafe heard the same thing.

Cody spoke “shut up! Don’t say that!” Jack shrugged nonchalantly “dude, I’m just saying, I’d tap that if I could.”

Your eyes widen, Rafe’s jaw clenched. Rafe didn’t need to be and wasn’t jealous… not exactly… he just didn’t like the fact that a seventeen year old friend of your sons had just said that about you… his wife, the mother of his children, his childhood friend, his lover…

Through the rest of the day, Rafe stuck to your side. You’d changed into some sweats and a crop top. Once you were done you both sat on the couch; Rafe next to you. He had his arm around you the whole time. Occasionally kissing your cheek or temple. Showing the boys, your his. He’s the one that put that beautiful diamond ring on your finger. He’s the one that put three beautiful and handsome boys in you. He helped you create life. He’s the one that gives you happiness.

🝮🝮🝮

Soon after, the sun started to set. Your three sons had asked both Rafe and yourself if they could stay the night at one of the boys house. Rafe agreed and told them to be safe and have fun.

As soon as he had shut that front door. You were in for a real treat tonight. Rafe walked back over to the couch. He put his one knee on the seat and he placed a hand on the side of your neck. His cold metal of his rings and watch press gently into your warm neck. He crashes his lips into yours like a starved man. His tongue quick to be shoved into your mouth. You knew what he was up to. You could tell it from the exact moment Cody’s friend said what he said about you.

You knew Rafe since day one, knew him better than he knew himself. So you knew what he was doing. And you were definitely not complaining.

Rafe placed one hand one your thigh and guided you so you laid back on the couch. While he stayed on top of you. He groaned against your lips. He mumbled “‘m gonna make you feel so good, baby” you gasped softly when you feel Rafe’s hips press against yours. He puts his free hand from your thigh, moving it to the waistband of your sweats.

Putting his hand down your sweats he could feel the material of your panties and your soft, wet skin. He groaned “you wearing the black lace ones?” You nodded. He grinned “all f’me…mine” you mumbled “yes, Rafey…”

His fingers slowly move up and down against your heat. You moaned softly. You gasp when you felt his middle finger slip in. He tilted his head and started to kiss along your neck. He groaned, his finger slowly pulling in and out. As he inhaled the sent of your vanilla perfume, he groaned once again. He mumbled against your soft skin “feel so good on my finger, want another, babe?” You nodded. He replied “words. y/n.” You whispered “another, please, Rafe” he slipped his ring finger in. Causing you to gasp softly.

After a few more seconds he pulled his fingers out. You whimpered, he grinned “oh we aren’t done, just wanna take you upstairs… prefer the bed.” Your mouth practically waters as you watch him move his fingers to his mouth. Cleaning you off his digits.

He picks you up, over his shoulder. Taking you upstairs and not wasting anymore time.

Placing you down on the bed, he was quick to take your clothes off. All piece of clothing on the floor. While he starts to take his off, you watched in awe. Your reaction to him will always be the same. It’s like looking at him for the first time, over and over. You never got tired of him. Never have and never will.

You watched as he was swift to remove his boxers. His huge length springing free. He moved onto the bed. His lips go to yours as his hand moves to his length. Pumping it a few times, then lining up with your entrance. You gasp as he started to push in. Once he was all the way in he leaned over you. His chain dangles by your chin. His hands either side of your shoulders. His biceps flex as he looks down at you.

“You’re so pretty under me, sweetheart.” You moaned softly as he slowly started to move in and out. He chuckled lowly “you know, what the boys said… was right..” he groaned. “You are a milf… my milf… such a hot momma, baby… I know you want another… want me to give you one?” You moaned as he picked up the pace a little more. “Words, sweetheart.” You nodded “yes, fuck! Want another…”

He moaned hearing your words, “fuck Y/n, I’ll give you another… I’ll fill you up, make your baby bump come back. Love you baby bumps… every one of them…” you moaned. His one hand moves to your lower stomach, pushing on the bulge on your lower abdomen. Causing you to moan, as he goes deeper.

He picks up his pace, he moaned “fuck, gonna make you pregnant again. Wanna see you with my baby in you again.” He goes harder. “Fuck can feel you round me, that make you excited, baby? Thinking of me getting you pregnant again?”

You nodded, grabbing onto his bicep. Nails digging into his tan skin. He groans at the feeling. He spoke “gonna give ya a girl this time, I wanna girl, so I can spoil you both, yeah? Let you two have the world.” You moan “oh Rafey!” He grinned. “Yeah? Like that?” You nodded. He leaned back. Grabbing your hips, guiding you against him as he thrusts into you.

He can feel your close, “gonna come f’me? Let me have it, sweetheart. You do that f’me and I’ll do it for ya..” you placed your hand on his chest. Then holding his chain. Wanting him closer, he knew you well. He knew that meant you were about to finish. He leaned down. You moaned “fuck, gonna-” “do it, finish over my cock f’me, love…” those words hit you like a brick wall. Every. God. Damn. Time.

And he knew it too.

You moaned one last time, then finishing. Causing you to tighten around him. He chased his realise and finished inside you.

He moaned as he slowed his pace. Still thrusting, just slowing down. Chasing both of your climaxes. Once he came to a spot. You had you usual ‘thank you’. He kissed both cheeks, then your forehead, temples, chin, nose and then your lips. He mumbled against your lips “you ok? Feel good, baby? You did so good..” You nodded “so good.”

He gently pulled out, causing you both to inhale sharply. He gently picked you up. Going ahead and doing your aftercare. For all the time you both knew each other. And past Rafe, with his many hook ups. Not once did he do aftercare. But for you? His childhood friend to girlfriend to fiancée to wife to mother of his children?

He’d give you the world, he’d kill for you. Protect you. Die for you, live for you. He’d do anything for you. Even if it’s as simple as aftercare. He loves you. You love him.

🝮🝮🝮

2K notes · View notes

solelifauna · 27 days ago

Text

With Bared Teeth & Prayers (Yandere Batfam X Neglected Reader) (Dark!!! Werewolf AU) (PT. 2)

Hi guys, I’m alive. I’ve just been sick and then found out that my dog’s cancer spread and the surgery costs $3,000 which is insane. Anyways, I’ve been working irl so I completely forgot about this account. Sorry pookies🤕🙏.

If anyone wants to know I’m still taking commissions, and if my price doesn’t work for you I’m sure I can lower it!! Honestly, I’ll write for whatever price I’m lowkey desperate.😭🙏

The next morning, you wake up in panic, shit, you slept in. You rush out the manor forgoing breakfast, almost eating shit on the sidewalk in your rush. You hop onto your bike, pedaling as if death itself was chasing you, huffing and puffing. Thankfully you make it to school on time, if only just on time.

You fall into your seat just as the bell rings, letting the top half of your body crumple over the desk.

“Looks like somebody had a rough morning.” The familiar voice of one of your best friends.

“Fuck off Quinn.” You huff out tiredly.

“Fine, then I guess this extra black coffee I got at Gloria’s is going to waste then.” She said teasingly.

How is it that she always has impeccable intuition about these things?

You groaned sitting up, giving Quinn a tired look.

“Yikes, I was gonna make another smartass joke but you look like you’re about to keel over.” She said worriedly, handing over the extra coffee.

“Ha ha, yeah I feel like I'm about to keel over. Thanks for the coffee by the way.” You said dryly.

“Don’t sweat it girl, but–uh, what the hell happened.”

“Too much dude, too much. It's so much bullshit I don't even know where to start.”

“Im guessing its about–”

“Ding, ding, ding, you got it.”

“Shit…how bad? They’re not gonna… you know…” Quinn stutters off.

“Kill me? Eat me?”

She nodded.

You massage your forehead, a headache forming between your eyebrows. “I'll be so for real right now, I don't even know.”

“Damn, I don't even know what to say to that.” Quinn grimaces.

“It’d be weird if you did.” You joked giving her a sardonic smile.“Well if they’re gonna kill me, I hope they do it before finals.”

“You’ve got issues (Y/n).”

“I’m aware.”

Just then the chatter in the class started to pipe down as your history teacher, Mr. Lechliter, made his way into the room. However, something wasn’t right; his usually neat hair was in disarray and you could smell that he was profusely sweating. He was nervous, which was completely out of character. Sure Mr. Lechliter was awkward at times but he was normally confident and loud around the class, something was going on.

“Good morning, class,” Mr. Lechliter began, but his voice was shaky, not at all the usual booming tone he used to command the room. “I-uh, hope you’re all ready to jump into… um, well, history.” He swallowed hard, glancing around as if searching for something—or someone—outside the door.

You look at Quinn with a raised eyebrow. What the hell is happening right now?

“We, um, actually have two guests who’ll be auditing a couple of classes today so we all want you guys on your best behavior. For our sakes and yours.” He said fidgeting with his paperweight globe, however, it was what he whispered under his breath that had you worried. What the fuck did he mean by that?!

“These guest speakers are one of the school's top sponsors so I truly cannot express the need we have for you all to behave and be on task, understand?” Mr. Lechliter spoke gravely.

The class let out a scattered “Yes” whilst others nodded. Now it was the class's turn to start getting nervous, the energy in the room now becoming quite grim. Seeing the class’s cooperation, Mr. Lechliter let out a shaky smile and nodded back at the class in approval. You sipped your coffee nervously in tandem.

“Good. Now, without further adieu, please welcome the esteemed Bruce Wayne and his son, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne.”

And in walked your worst nightmare as you choked on your coffee. A hesitant applause began as a couple of heads turned your way, including the scrutinizing eyes of Bruce Wayne and Tim Drake.

“Jesus Christ (Y/n), are you good?” Quinn whispered, patting your back.

“Does it look like I'm good, Quinn?” You whisper-yell back.

“Sorry, dumb question.”

“I legitimately can't do this right now.” You groan out quietly.

Tim’s sharp, calculating gaze landed on you, and for a split second, his lips twitched upward in what looked disturbingly close to satisfaction. Bruce, however, kept his gaze steady, stoic, making his way to the front of the class like he owned every square inch of the room—and maybe, in a way, he did.

Bruce stepped forward, greeting Mr. Lechliter with a firm handshake before addressing the class. “Good morning,” he said, his voice carrying a smooth authority. “It’s always a pleasure to see the next generation of Gotham’s finest minds, and today, we’re here to discuss some unique opportunities with Wayne Enterprises—partnerships, scholarships, and mentorship programs that may be of interest to you in your future studies.”

Meanwhile, Tim’s gaze remained fixed on you, a silent warning lingering behind his polite smile. You swallowed hard, avoiding eye contact, hoping that blending in might somehow make you invisible. But Tim had no intention of letting you off the hook. He leaned slightly closer to Bruce, murmuring something that made Bruce’s eyes flicker in your direction, his expression unreadable.

Quinn leaned over, her voice barely a whisper. “(Y/n), what the hell is going on? They keep looking at you.”

“Trust me, I wish I knew,” you muttered back, managing to take a sip of coffee without choking this time. “They’re just here to make my life a living nightmare, apparently.”

As Bruce and Tim began their presentation, outlining all the “wonderful opportunities” that a connection to Wayne Enterprises could bring, you couldn’t help but feel trapped. Every line, every subtle glance, seemed like a reminder that escape from their influence was impossible. They were inescapable, even here, in the one place you thought you could breathe.

When they finally wrapped up their presentation, Bruce offered to answer questions, his gaze settling on you for the briefest moment, as if daring you to speak up. You just nervously looked away, its fine, they’ve said their piece and will be leaving soon.

But of course life doesn't ever go the way that you want.

The relief that had started to settle in evaporated as Bruce and Tim made no move to leave. Instead, they took seats at the back of the classroom, settling in with that same poised, assessing presence that dominated every room they entered. Bruce folded his hands in his lap, his gaze steady and inscrutable, while Tim casually crossed his arms, his eyes tracking every student’s reaction, but always coming back to you.

You swallowed hard, glancing at Quinn, who was now just as unsettled as you were. “Are they… staying?” she whispered, her brows knitting together in worry.

“Looks like it,” you muttered, barely moving your lips.

Mr. Lechliter, visibly tense under the weight of their scrutiny, resumed his lesson with all the grace of a man on the edge of a breakdown. Every time he stumbled over his words or glanced nervously at Bruce, the room felt as if it held its breath.

“This, um, particular era in history…” Mr. Lechliter began, stammering slightly as he struggled to keep his usual confident tone. “It’s a time when alliances shifted often, and there was…constant jockeying for power…”

Bruce and Tim watched, expressions neutral, but you knew better than to believe their act. They weren’t here for any genuine interest in educational standards; they were here as a reminder, a warning that the Wayne influence extended beyond the manor walls.

You focused on your notebook, pen tapping anxiously against the paper as you tried to tune them out and take frantic notes. But it was impossible to ignore the cold prickle at the back of your neck. Every glance felt like a needle, each second stretching longer than the last.

Mr. Lechliter’s lecture painstakingly continued on for another thirty minutes before class started coming to an end.

The bell finally rang as you shot up out of your seat and practically sprinted out the door. You head to your locker, feeling the many starters of students and teachers bore into you. Another thing was that everyone kinda knew that the Wayne’s didn't like you, it was very obvious. Which meant the media had a field day, letting the entirety of Gotham know how much the famous pack hated you. So now your business was also aired out to the entire world to know. Wonderful, am I right?

You shove your unneeded books into your (tbh, very cutely) decorated locker, while grabbing the science textbook you needed for your next class, AP Biology. This class was the absolute bane of your existence. Not only was the content hard, the teacher was also absolutely nuts. You walk over to your Bio class, clutching your books like a lifeline. “Please, dont be here too.” You pray to yourself. Thankfully, this class was normal, well, as normal as it could get. The other two classes you have before lunch ended the same way, Wayneless.

As your fourth class comes to an end your stomach starts to growl. You’d be embarrassed, but everyone else in your class was in a similar starved state. When the lunch bell goes off, you’re excitedly grabbing your things and making your way down. Fucking finally it was lunchtime. You made your way to the quickly growing lunchline

Your friends were already sitting at your usual table as you made your way over and slammed your lunch tray on the table.

“Im gonna kill myself.”

“I can't even say anything about that.” One of your other friends Daniel says.

You groaned holding your head in your hands, your headache becoming more prevalent as you turn to look at him.

“Man all I did was ask to leave, and now this shit? I can't even right now.”

“You finally asked to leave, huh? I'm guessing it didn't go well.” Daniel asks.

“Nope, but when does anything ever go right in my life.”

Just as you finish talking, the noisy cafeteria falls abruptly silent. The usual clatter of trays and chatter of students fades, replaced by an almost eerie quiet. You and your friends exchange confused glances before turning to see what—or who—could possibly have silenced a room full of teenagers. But in the pit of your stomach, you already have an idea.

Sure enough, walking through the entrance are Bruce Wayne and Tim Drake-Wayne, looking completely out of place in their immaculate suits and composed expressions. Their powerful, calculating gazes sweep across the crowd, searching for someone, before both of their eyes zero in on you and your table. Instinctively, you tense up, your shoulders hunching as if to make yourself smaller, and you feel the flush of embarrassment heat your cheeks under their scrutiny.

Their focused stares make you flinch, and you quickly look away, facing your friends once more. “See what I mean?” you mutter under your breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’s like the universe is out to get me.”

Daniel raises an eyebrow, glancing between you and the Waynes, a flicker of worry passing over his face. "What are they doing here? This isn’t normal, right?”

“No, it’s definitely not,” you reply, trying to keep your tone casual even as your heart races. “They’re here to make a point.”

You further slump into the table, arms cradling your head as the cafeteria slowly starts to go back to its normal noise level. Both Tim and Bruce take a seat at a table opposite to where you’re sitting, which gives them a perfect view of your table. Great.

“Guys talk to me. Anything–talk about anything please.” You beg quietly.

Quinn leans in, glancing nervously at the Waynes across the cafeteria. “Uh, did you hear about Chief Keef performing soon? Apparently, he’ll be in Gotham.”

Daniel nods, catching on to your plea for distraction. “Yeah, yeah, I heard he's gonna bring another artist on stage. Mauve Travis or something if we’re lucky?.”

You smile weakly, grateful for the distraction, even if your heart’s still pounding. You try to focus on what they’re saying, but you can feel Tim’s gaze on you like a laser, scrutinizing, watching every movement. You pretend not to notice, grabbing a fry from your tray and nodding along to whatever Daniel and Quinn are saying, forcing yourself to join in with a half-hearted laugh here and there.

Quinn suddenly brings up a story from her last weekend, trying her best to lighten the mood. “Okay, get this—I tried to impress this guy by pretending to know how to skate, but instead, I ended up flat on my face in front of, like, everyone. Mortifying, but he did buy me a smoothie as a consolation prize.”

You chuckle, letting the story pull you out of your anxious thoughts. “I mean, sounds like it kind of worked. You got a free smoothie, right?”

Quinn laughs, rolling her eyes. “Only because he felt bad, but hey, I’ll take pity smoothies.”

The laughter at your table grows, the lighthearted moment almost making you forget the ominous presence of Bruce and Tim nearby. But just as you’re starting to relax, you catch a glimpse of Tim’s amused smirk from the corner of your eye. His eyes don’t leave you, as if he knows exactly how unsettling his presence is and he’s reveling in it.

“I think he liked you,” Daniel teases Quinn, keeping the conversation going to help ease your nerves.

“Liked my bruised ego, maybe,” she snorts. “Anyway, what about you, (Y/n)? Got any secret admirers?”

You shake your head, grateful they’re keeping the focus off your current predicament. “Nope, unless you count the cadaver frog I accidentally dropped on my lab partner. He, uh-didn’t look at me the same after that.”

Your friends burst out laughing, and for a brief, blessed moment, you almost feel normal again. But when you glance back, Bruce’s eyes are still on you, cool and unyielding.

“Here’s to hoping they’re gone after lunch,” Daniel mutters, catching your uneasy glance.

“What good has hoping ever done me?” You sigh, picking at your food.

The tension in the cafeteria never fully fades. Despite the attempts from Quinn and Daniel to keep the conversation going, the presence of Bruce and Tim just continues to overwhelm you. Every so often, your eyes flit toward them, only to find them still seated, still watching, and their expressions betraying nothing of their true intent. It feels like they’re waiting for you to make a move, to react in some way that would justify their unsettling attention.

Lunch drags on in this uncomfortable limbo until, at last, the bell rings, signaling the end of the break. Your friends gather their things, offering small words of encouragement or supportive smiles, though they too look wary of the Waynes’ lingering presence.

“I’ll see you both in Chem. Hopefully Mr. Domzalski isn't still in a bad mood from what happened yesterday.” You say.

“You mean from when you and Daniel set fire to one of his textbooks?” Quinn questions sardonically.

You and Daniel offer her a sheepish, guilty smile.

“Hey–it was an accident!” he exclaims, feigning offense.

“Yeah, what he said! We followed all the instructions to a T!” You defend as well.

“Sure, whatever you both say. I'm just surprised he didn't automatically fail you two.” Quinn says fondly.

“It’s ‘cause we’re somehow his favorites? Don't ask me how or why though.” You respond.

As you and Daniel chuckle, the lightheartedness helps lift some of the weight that had been hanging over your head. The relief is short-lived, though, as you feel a prickle on the back of your neck—a feeling that’s become all too familiar lately.

You glance back to see Bruce and Tim still watching, and for a moment, something in Bruce’s gaze changes. You can’t quite read it, but it feels sharper, like he’s calculating, considering something he hasn’t said. You swallow, gripping your bag tighter as your friends move to head toward class, unaware of the silent tension hanging around you like a cloud.

You head to your APA Algebra II class alone, without the usual buffer of Daniel or Quinn’s lighthearted banter to ease the tension. The classroom is quiet, a different atmosphere from the lively lunch period, and you’re able to slip into your seat undisturbed, hoping that the math problems ahead will give you a welcome distraction.

As the class moves on, you find yourself lost in equations, the numbers and formulas acting as a temporary refuge from everything else. You keep your head down, concentrating on the work, grateful for the momentary peace that academics bring.

When the bell rings, signaling the end of Math, you gather your things and head to APA Chemistry, where you’d finally reunite with Daniel and Quinn. When you arrive in APA Chemistry, the atmosphere is surprisingly relaxed. Mr. Domzalski hasn’t arrived yet, so everyone’s just hanging out, chatting about weekend plans, or joking around. You plop down next to Daniel, who’s already doodling on his notebook, and give Quinn a tired smile. It’s nice to have a few minutes to unwind before the usual controlled chaos of Mr. Domzalski’s class kicks in.

Then, the door swings open, and you freeze as Mr. Domzalski steps in with Tim Drake following close behind. Your stomach twists, and you have to swallow down a groan. Thankfully, Bruce is nowhere to be seen. Small blessings, you suppose; better not to question it too much. You look at your friends, trying to convey your annoyance with a single tired look as Mr. Domzalski beams with a sort of overdone excitement that sets you on edge.

“Everyone, I’d like you to welcome a special guest,” he says, practically brimming with enthusiasm. “Tim Drake-Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, is here to observe our class today.”

You sink lower in your chair, stifling a grumble. Great, just great. This whole thing was growing stale fast. You try to ignore the interested murmurs spreading through the class as everyone stares at Tim, who stands there with that same polite, professional smile he’s been flashing all day. You avoid eye contact, focusing instead on the edge of your desk as Mr. Domzalski continues.

“Now,” Mr. Domzalski goes on, shifting his focus to the lab materials, “before we dive into today’s lesson, let’s review what went wrong in yesterday’s lab.”

He shoots a pointed look in your direction, his smile still in place, but there’s a glint in his eyes that tells you he’s not exactly thrilled. “For those who might need a reminder,” he continues, not-so-subtly side-eyeing you and Daniel, “improper handling of materials led to one of my textbooks, which I cherish dearly, being set on fire.”

The class erupts into quiet snickers, and Daniel coughs into his hand, trying to disguise his laughter. You roll your eyes, but a smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth. Even Tim’s eyes change a bit, as if interested.

Mr. Domzalski clears his throat, regaining the class’s attention. “Let’s aim for a little more caution today, shall we?”

The lab for the day was going to be more complex than usual. Mr. Domzalski, with a edge of nervousness in his tone, began rattling off the new, more complicated instructions. His gaze flicked to you and Daniel more than once, lingering just long enough to make his message clear: Please don’t mess up.

You slouched slightly in your seat, already feeling the weight of the unspoken pressure. It wasn’t lost on you how much was riding on this lab going smoothly—not just for your grade, but for Mr. Domzalski himself. With Tim Drake-Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises and a member of one of Gotham’s most powerful packs, observing, any mishap could very well put your teacher’s job on the line.

Next to you, Daniel caught your eye, his lips twitching into a wry smirk. He leaned in, whispering, “Feel like we’re walking on eggshells today, huh?”

“More like a minefield,” you muttered back, eyeing the lab equipment warily. The setup looked far more intricate than usual—beakers and flasks stacked alongside pipettes, Bunsen burners, and an array of unfamiliar chemicals. It was a recipe for disaster, and you had no intention of being the one to set it off.

Tim, seated at the back of the room, watched the proceedings with his usual cool detachment. His presence was like a weight pressing down on the room, amplifying every minor sound and movement. You could practically feel his gaze on you, even when you weren’t looking his way.

“Alright, everyone,” Mr. Domzalski said, clapping his hands to gather the class’s attention. “Remember to follow the instructions precisely as they’re written. This is a delicate experiment, and precision is key. Any deviation could—well, let’s just say we don’t want any surprises today.”

The pointed glance he sent your way at the word “surprises” made you cringe internally. You shot Daniel a look. He seemed to get the message, giving you a small nod before turning his focus to the materials in front of him.

With a deep breath, you adjusted your goggles and got to work, determined not to give anyone—especially Tim—a reason to criticize.

The lab was rough from the very start. No matter how tightly you adjusted your goggles, they kept fogging up, obscuring your vision at the worst possible moments. You constantly had to pause to wipe them off, and each time, you felt Tim's Gaze flicker towards you. Daniel, meanwhile, was no better. He almost tipped over a vial of some unpronounceable chemical twice, and each time, you barely managed to steady it before disaster struck.

“Bro you have to lock in.” you said under your breath.

“I'm trying–fuck. My hands are too shaky.” Daniel whispered back, nervous as he tried held out his hands for you to see. He carefully set the vial down, only for his elbow to nudge another piece of equipment. You caught it just in time, your heart leaping into your throat.

The instructions seemed to come at lightning speed, Mr. Domzalski rattling off steps faster than you could write them down. Each new instruction layered on top of the last until your head was spinning with measurements, temperatures, and reaction times. You were doing your best to keep up—you think you were doing it right—but the constant noise and movement around you made it feel like everything was closing in.

You glanced at the flask on your workstation, bubbling faintly as it was supposed to, and double-checked the temperature. It seemed fine. Probably fine. Hopefully fine. But the nagging thought that you might’ve missed a step wouldn’t go away.

Behind you, Tim’s silent observation was like a shadow, adding another layer of stress to the already chaotic atmosphere. Every time you caught sight of him out of the corner of your eye, you swore his expression was unreadable, yet somehow judgmental.

“I think this is right,” you muttered, glancing at the next step in the instructions and adjusting your setup.

“‘Think’ isn’t reassuring, (Y/n),” Daniel replied, he was nervous. “Don’t blow us up, okay?”

“Not funny,” you snapped, though your lips twitched in a half-smile despite the stress. “Just keep stirring before we mess up the timing.”

The rest of the lab dragged on in a haze of nervous energy and frantic adjustments. Your hands trembled slightly as you measured out the final chemical, careful not to let even a drop spill. When you finally completed the experiment, the mixture in the beaker turned the correct pale blue color, and you let out a shaky breath of relief.

“See?” Daniel said, flashing you a grin. “We nailed it.”

You gave him a tired look. “Barely.”

As Mr. Domzalski approached to check your work, you held your breath, praying there wasn’t some detail you’d overlooked. When he gave a curt nod of approval, you finally relaxed, though your nerves still felt frayed. Even then, you could feel Tim’s eyes on you, as if silently appraising every moment of your struggle.

The lab was over, but the stress lingered like a heavy weight on your shoulders. You packed up your materials with shaky hands, grateful to escape the pressure of both the experiment and the unrelenting scrutiny.

As the class wrapped up, Mr. Domzalski passed by your station, his sharp eyes flicking over the completed experiment. The pale blue liquid in the beaker must have been just right because, instead of his usual critical remarks, he gave a subtle nod and a quiet, “Good work.” The words weren’t overly enthusiastic, but coming from him—and especially with Tim Drake watching—it was as close to praise as you could get.

You felt a weight lift off your shoulders, and you let out a long sigh of relief. You and Daniel exchanged a look, his triumphant grin mirrored by the faintest smile you allowed yourself. You’d passed. Somehow, despite the foggy goggles, Daniel’s near-disasters, and the relentless pressure, you’d made it through the lab unscathed.

As you finished cleaning up, Mr. Domzalski gave you a brief, silent glance of thanks. It wasn’t much, but you knew what it meant: he was grateful you hadn’t turned today’s experiment into another headline-worthy incident. You nodded subtly back, grateful that the ordeal was over.

With the last of your equipment put away, you grabbed your bag and escaped the lab as quickly as possible, the weight of Tim’s lingering gaze finally lifting as you stepped into the hallway. Quinn was waiting by the door, chatting with Daniel, who was still buzzing with post-lab adrenaline.

“Well, looks like you didn’t burn down the school,” Quinn teased, grinning as she fell into step with you.

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, rolling your eyes but smiling despite yourself. “We’re still alive, so I guess that’s a win.”

“Hey give us more credit.” Daniel chimed in, earning a laugh from both you and Quinn.

As the three of you headed for the stairs, you said goodbye to Daniel, who was heading to a different class. “See you later, guys.” he said, waving as he turned down another hallway.

You and Quinn made your way toward the gym for your seventh period, the final class of the day. The familiar chatter and clang of lockers greeted you as you stepped into the changing area. Gym wasn’t exactly your favorite class, but after the stress of the lab, it was almost a relief to have something physical to focus on instead of the constant mental strain.

“Think they’ll leave you alone for the day?” Quinn asked as you pulled on your gym shoes.

“I hope so,” you replied, your voice weary. “I can’t handle any more of this. It’s like they can’t even wait to-to…you know.”

Quinn grimaces. “Yeah, I know.” But she smiles back at you, as if tying to make you perk up. “Well, at least we’re doing dodgeball today, you should blow off some steam.”

You huff, amused. “Mm, maybe nailing Farah in the head with a dodgeball would do me some good.”

“Straight on bitch, that girl needs to be humbled.” Quinn says.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “At this point, I’ll take any excuse to hit something.”

The two of you stepped into the gym, the sound of sneakers squeaking on polished floors and the buzz of students warming up filling the air. It wasn’t the easiest day, but at least the end was finally in sight.

The day finally winds down as you head to the locker rooms to change. The smell of sweat and disinfectant fills the air as you and the other students shuffle to your lockers, exchanging the occasional half-hearted quip about how much of a drill sergeant Coach Walker was today. You change quickly, eager to escape the lingering humidity of the gym, and sling your bag over your shoulder just as the dismissal bell rings.

Joining the tide of students heading toward the front exit, you fall into step with Quinn, chatting idly about homework and plans for the weekend. The sprawling line of cars in the pick-up area is already forming, parents eager to whisk their kids away from the chaos of the school day.

Daniel spots you both as he weaves through the crowd toward his mom’s car, parked conveniently near the front of the line. “Guess that’s my ride,” he calls, swatting your shoulder playfully. “Try not to miss me too much tomorrow, I've got a doc's appointment.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, yeah, you wish asshole.”

“Later!” he shouts, hopping into the passenger seat of his mom’s car as it pulls away. You and Quinn wave after him before continuing toward the pick-up zone.

“Alfred here today?” Quinn asks, glancing around at the cars idling nearby.

“Probably not,” you reply with a shrug. “Haven’t heard from him, so it’s probably just me and the bike today.”

Quinn nods, her attention already shifting to a car pulling up in the distance. “Looks like my dad’s almost here.”

You glance toward the pickup area and spot the familiar vehicle inching closer. “Cool. Guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Yep. Don’t get mugged on the way home,” she jokes, smirking as she adjusts her backpack.

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence,” you reply with a laugh. With a quick goodbye, you head toward the bike rack to unlock your trusty two-wheeler.

The quietness of the parking lot is a stark contrast to the noisy chaos of the day. You crouch down, fiddling with the combination lock on your bike, when a hulking shadow falls over you. The sudden shift in light is enough to make your instincts bristle, but you stay focused on the lock, rolling your eyes at the interruption.

“Bro, if you’re lookin’ to mug me,” you say without looking up, your tone flat and unamused, “you should know I’m skint broke. Try some other bitch.”

The air around you seems to thicken with tension, and you feel the unmistakable weight of someone’s gaze boring into you. It’s enough to make you pause mid-turn on the lock, your breath catching as a low, familiar voice responds.

“I sure hope you’re not talking to me?” Comes your father, Bruce’s, deep voice.

Your head snaps up, and your breath catches in your throat as you realize it’s not some wannabe punk standing over you.

You pale instantly, the color draining from your face as you meet his icy blue eyes. His expression is unreadable, but the weight of his gaze is suffocating. The sheer presence of him—imposing, cold, and unnervingly silent—makes your stomach churn with dread. Your heart pounds in your chest as you scramble for words, your brain tripping over itself in panic.

“Oh—uh, Mr. Wayne—I didn’t—I mean, I thought…” you stammer, trying to cobble together an explanation and an apology all at once. Your hands fumble with the lock on your bike, suddenly feeling clumsy under his scrutiny. “I—um—sorry! I thought—uh—someone else—”

He raises an eyebrow, the tiniest shift in his expression, but it’s enough to make you flinch. You straighten up, clutching your bike for dear life, feeling small and utterly exposed under his towering figure.

“I see,” he says finally, his voice calm but laced with that undercurrent of authority that makes it clear he’s not just seeing. He’s assessing.

“I didn’t realize it was you,” you blurt, trying to salvage what’s left of your dignity. “I thought it was, uh, someone else. Someone trying to—um—mug me?” The excuse sounds weak even to your own ears, and you wince inwardly at how ridiculous it must sound.

Bruce’s gaze doesn’t waver. “Do you make a habit of mouthing off to strangers you assume are threats?” he asks, his tone deceptively mild.

“N-no, sir,” you stammer, shaking your head quickly. “I just—I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s been a long day, and I wasn’t thinking—”

He holds up a hand, cutting off your rambling. “Enough,” he says, “I’m here to pick you up. Alfred’s occupied.”

Your mouth opens, then closes, as you try to process his words. You hadn’t even considered the possibility that Bruce might be the one picking you up today. Of course, the thought of him going out of his way to do so hadn’t even crossed your mind, it wasn’t like he ever went out of his way for you before.

“Oh,” you manage after an awkward pause. “Right. Thanks.”

You still have your conversation from the previous day in mind.

“Come on,” he says, turning without another word. “We’re leaving.”

You hastily shove your bike into the back of his sleek black car, your movements hurried and uncoordinated under the pressure of his presence. Sliding into the back seat, you notice Tim sitting in the front passenger seat, looking at you through the rear mirror. You avert your gaze, clasping your hands tightly in your lap, trying not to fidget as the engine purrs to life. The air inside the car is thick with silence, broken only by the occasional click of the turn signal as Bruce maneuvers through traffic.

You steal a glance at him, his expression as stoic and unreadable as ever. Despite the tension knotting your stomach, you force yourself to speak. “I—uh, thanks for picking me up,” you mumble, staring out the window.

Bruce doesn’t respond immediately, his eyes fixed on the road. When he finally speaks, his tone is even but firm. “We’ll talk when we get home.”

Your throat tightens when you see Tim's glee filled smile, as if a cat had just caught a canary. You nod mutely, knowing there’s no point in arguing. Whatever he has to say, it’s not going to be pleasant.

[Hope you guys liked the chapter!! I'm sorry for the delay and the ghosting, more fics will be updated trust!! Also thank you to all the people who were checking on me, I really appreciate it!!]

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whytheylosttheirminds · 4 months ago

Text

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 2

(Rafe Cameron x Reader series, 4.9k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

After weeks of all-nighters and cramming for finals, sleeping in on your first morning at the beach house felt incredible. It was only 9:30 when you finally stirred in the comfy bed, but it felt late in the day.

Coming down the stairs in your pjs and slippers, you smiled at the sound of your sister’s voice, joking around with her old friends. Your goal this trip was for her to have a good time, and despite the emotional rollercoaster of seeing Rafe yesterday, at this moment, you were glad you decided to stay. You entered the room to see half the house was awake, though neither Rafe or Tom had made an appearance yet.

“Ladies and gentleman, it’s Kerri Walsh Jennings!” Topper deepened his voice like a sports announcer when you entered the kitchen. The few people who were up all turned to you, playfully bowing and applauding like you were a true Olympian. You grinned and rolled your eyes, surprised at how comfortable you felt with the unprecedented attention.

Topper was at the stove flipping pancakes for everyone’s breakfast, wearing an apron that said “kiss the cook.” As you approached the kitchen island to grab a stool next to your sister, he leaned over, holding the spatula like a microphone.

“So tell us, Kerri, now that you’ve won the gold what will you do next?”

“Well, Top,” you played along. “First, I’m going to get some coffee…then I’m going straight to Disneyland!”

Everyone in the kitchen laughed, making the tips of your ears turn red. No one ever laughed at your jokes in high school, not that you were confident enough to make many. Rafe would tell you sometimes that you were funny, so long as no one was around to hear him admit it.

“Well I can help you with the first part,” Topper said, grabbing a mug and the coffee pot.

“Wow, so domestic of you, Topper,” you teased as he poured your steaming coffee in front of you.

“He’s our house mother,” Carter said, smiling wide at Topper who did a jokey little curtsy motion. Clearly this was a running joke between them.

Topper handed you a plate of pancakes, which Kelce promptly reached over your shoulder to steal.

“Since when are you such an athlete?” Kelce asked, his mouth already full with your breakfast.

You told them all about your team at school, surprised out of your mind that everyone was actually listening intently.

Rafe woke up groggy and sore, ducking his head as he walked through the basement and made his way up the rickety steps. As he reached for the handle of the door which opened into the kitchen, he smiled at the sound of your voice on the other side. His smile quickly faded when he heard Kelce interrupt you with, “Yeah and you kicked Rafe’s ass, too, made him your bitch.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

Every head in the kitchen whipped towards the sound of Rafe’s voice as he emerged, except for yours. You shuffled slightly on your stool and sipped your coffee. Rafe didn’t miss the way you were ignoring him, his eyes grazing quickly over the smoothe skin of your shoulders before redirecting to anything he could find.

“Cute apron, Top,” he landed on.

“Thanks man,” Topper said, ignoring his mocking tone. “Want some flapjacks?”

“Ew, who calls them flapjacks?” Carter burst out laughing.

“Well now you don’t get any,” Topper scolded, pulling her plate away from her and handing it to Rafe.

“I don’t want ‘em if Carter’s put her mouth near them,” Rafe mocked. “We don’t know where she’s been.”

“Says the guy who licked the gym floor in seventh grade,” you said quietly.

The entire room came to a halt, everyone surprised at the sound of you joining in on the teasing. No one had actually heard you address Rafe yet. The awkwardness hung in the air, all eyes going wide as they waited to see if the notorious hothead was going to be able to take what he was dishing out. You just picked at your pancakes with your fork and hoped everyone would move on, but Rafe smirked at you, a playful twinkle in his eye.

“That was on a dare,” he defended himself.

When you finally looked up at him, your stomach twisted into a knot as you noticed how cute he looked in his white undershirt and grey sweats, messy bedhead and sleepy eyes. You immediately regretted acknowledging that you remembered something he did so long ago. Now, he was looking at you with something like excitement, smug that you were talking to him, like your big triumph the day before had never happened.

“Oh, I didn’t remember that part.” It was a lie, you remembered everything he ever said or did.

Rafe’s face dropped at your impassive tone, his brief window of hope that all was forgiven slammed shut.

To your great relief, Tom chose that moment to enter the room, drawing the attention away from you and Rafe. He had apparently been out on a run, and his under armor shirt, wet with sweat, clinged to his form to reveal a sculpted chest below.

“How we doin’ everyone?” His cheery voice boomed. He slapped Topper on the back before giving Kelce a frat bro handshake across the counter. “What do we have here?” He whistled appreciatively at the spread Topper had put out.

As Topper rattled on about the many flavors and shapes of pancakes he could offer, Tom looked over at you with a cheeky smile and mouthed “good morning!” You smiled back with a little wave, butterflies erupting in your stomach at the way he was singling you out.

After the volleyball game last night, you’d all gone to a seafood restaurant on the water. Tom had chosen the seat next to you, and made extremely pleasant dinner company. He asked you all about yourself, about school and what you were planning for the future. He was a great listener, and you were so glad to have someone to chat normally with without the baggage of your childhood hanging over your head. You hoped the week would hold many more cozy conversations with him.

Unbeknownst to you, Carter was watching as you smiled at him in the kitchen, and so was Rafe. They had very different looks on their face as they realized at the same moment that something was happening between you and Tom.

After Topper and Kelce reclaimed Tom’s attention, talking over each other about their plans to go fishing later, Carter squeezed your elbow and motioned with a nod for you to follow her out onto the patio.

“Ummm, okay, what was that?” Carter asked with arched eyebrows once you were settled on the patio couch next to her.

“Oh my god I know. I shouldn’t have said anything, do you think everyone will think it’s weird I remember something he did in seventh grade?” You asked worriedly.

Carter scrunched her brows in confusion for a minute before waving you off with her hand. “Oh, no not Rafe, he’s old news. I’m talking about your little moment with Tom!”

“Oh, uh,” you cleared your throat, embarrassed that you were still lingering on Rafe when she clearly wasn’t. “I don’t know, he’s nice.”

“He’s fucking gorgeous is what he is,” she fanned herself theatrically.

“Are you into him?” Your stomach dropped at the thought that she might be interested. In your eyes, Carter always had first pick, and surely if Tom thought she was interested he’d choose her over you in a heartbeat.

“No,” she shook her head. “I’m having too much fun messing with Topper.”

You laughed hard at that, “yeah, I noticed. Are you two back on again?”

“Maybe,” she shrugged. “You think if I play my cards right I could get him to propose?”

“I think you could probably get him to do just about anything,” you chuckled.

“Okay, then it’s settled, I’ve got Topper and you,” she poked at your side and you swatted her hand away, “will make a move on Tom.”

“I don’t know about ‘make a move,” you took a long sip of your coffee, suddenly anxious.

Carter eyed you curiously, recognizing the insecurity she hoped you had left behind now that things were going so well. She didn’t understand how you still couldn’t see how amazing you are, but she was determined to prove it to you by the end of this trip.

Rafe did his best not to stare at you through the sliding door, but when he heard your melodic laugh float in through the screen, he couldn’t help the way his head snapped toward the sound, wishing desperately that it was him making you laugh like that. You used to laugh at all his jokes, and he’d taken it for granted. The sad thing was, he actually loved hanging out with you. You had a great sense of humor, and he always felt so comfortable when it was just you and him. He knows now he should’ve just called it what it was, been with you in public too. But he had so many eyes on him back then, and he was worried what people would think. Plus, he knew you’d stick by him even if he treated you like shit, and he took advantage of that. He kicked himself mentally, feeling like a Grade A chump while you sat there, looking beautiful in the ocean breeze, smiling through the window at some guy you’d met yesterday.

As he lost himself in his thoughts, Topper noticed him staring at you, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

“She looks good, huh?” He asked Rafe.

“What?” Rafe shook his head as if he could erase the thoughts that were plaguing him. “Who?”

“Oh, come on,” Topper nodded towards you and Carter on the deck.

“I dunno,” Rafe tried to play it off. “She looks the same I guess, a little different.”

“Bro,” Topper gave him an incredulous look. “She’s a fucking smokeshow. You’re into her, don’t even try and fool me.”

“If you're so into her, why don’t you go for her?” Rafe snapped at him.

Topper shook his head, “maybe because I’m not the one she was obsessed with for a decade.”

“She wasn’t obsessed with me,” Rafe protested. “We were friends.”

“Right,” Topper said sarcastically. “And I was a number one draft pick. Dude, she was in love with you, everyone knew it.”

Rafe leaned forward on the counter, propped on his elbows, looking down at his uneaten pancakes with a frown. His stomach twisted with guilt. Of course everyone knew, he knew it too. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t use your adoration of him to his advantage from time to time. Okay, all the time. He couldn’t really blame you for still being mad at him, he was a dick. But he liked to think he’d grown some since then, not that you had any reason to give him a chance to prove it.

“I think she’s into your buddy, Dom, or whatever his name is,” Rafe grumbled.

“First of all,” Topper pointed the spatula at him, “you know his name is Tom. And second of all, I love the guy, but he’s got nothing on you. Give me one day, she’ll be back.”

“Don’t do anything weird, man,” Rafe warned, cringing at the thought of what kind of damage an unsupervised Topper could inflict.

“Don’t worry dude, I got it handled,” Topper assured him.

Rafe just chuckled and sipped his coffee, knowing this was a losing battle, “whatever you say, Top.”

The door slid open and you and Carter reentered the kitchen. Tom stood from his place at the little breakfast nook when you walked in, and you were relieved that he ended his conversation with Maddie and Sabrina so abruptly at the sight of you. He smiled down at you before heading into the kitchen to help Topper clean up. Rafe was noticeably not helping, sitting at the counter scrolling on his phone.

“No phones,” Carter said, swiping it from him.

“Give it,” he held his large hand out to her, jaw ticking with annoyance.

“C’mon Rafe, don’t you want to live in the present?” She badgered.

He tried to grab it quickly, but she lifted it above her head, tossing it to Kelce on the other side of the counter, who tossed it to Topper, and the game of hot potato continued, much to Rafe’s chagrin.

“Y’all are children,” he scowled, sitting back on the stool in defeat.

“Who are you even texting? All your friends are here,” Carter jeered.

“I was looking up directions to the grocery store, seeing as there’s no fucking food in this house besides beer, and apparently pancake mix,” Rafe explained.

“No need,” Topper said. “Tom, Kelce and I are spending the day on the water and we’ll grab some stuff on the way back.”

Carter frowned at the thought of both of your boys being gone the whole day, leaving little to distract you from Rafe. This wouldn’t do.

“No, you can’t go out today, we're having a cookout!” She announced to the room.

“We are?” Kelce scratched his head.

“Yes, we are,” Carter nodded confidently, wrapping her arm around Topper’s waist, which you knew was all it would take to get him to agree. “And mom here is going to grill for us.”

“Oh am I?” Topper asked, eyebrows raised in amusement, not exactly protesting.

“Yes, so someone else will need to go get the food,” Carter continued. You knew her well enough to see that a whole plan was unfolding in her head. “Sissy, why don’t you go?”

“That’s…fine,” you agreed reluctantly, narrowing your eyes at her, trying to figure out her play. “I need someone to go with me though, we’ll need a lot of stuff.”

Carter and Topper smiled in sync, both thinking they’d just come up with the best idea anyone has ever had.

At the same moment that Carter blurted out, “Tom can go with you!” Topper loudly suggested, “Rafe can take you!”

Your lips forming a tight line, you gave them both an exasperated look. Their heads snapped toward each other, eyeing each other suspiciously. Rafe scratched the back of his neck, annoyed at Topper for butting in and hating himself for hoping you’d choose to go with him and not Tom.

Tom, meanwhile, was watching all four of you from the corner of the room, never more confused in his life.

“It’s cool,” he said hesitantly, the awkwardness palpable. “All three of us can go.”

“Fine, but I’m driving,” Rafe stood from his seat. “Can I have my phone back now please?”

He reached his hand to Kelce, who was the last to have it. Kelce panicked, wanting to keep the game going, and tossed it to you. You very nearly dropped it, letting it bounce between your hands but eventually securing it before it fell.

You just looked at it in your hands, then up to Rafe and Tom, searching for any way out of what was sure to be an uncomfortable outing without being rude. You came up with nothing.

“I guess I’ll go get dressed,” you handed Rafe his phone, making Kelce shake his head at you in disappointment.

The hum of the truck’s engine was the only sound in the car for a solid five minutes. You sat in the front seat, Tom having opened your door for you, while Rafe drove. You suddenly couldn’t remember what people do with their hands when they’re not driving. Where the hell do you put your hands? Tom’s voice cut through your internal panic.

“So, uh Rafe, Top says you went to Chapel Hill?” He inquired, sitting forward in the backseat so his head appeared between you and Rafe,

“Still do,” Rafe said curtly.

You looked at Rafe for the first time since pulling out of the beach house driveway. You wanted to ask him why he hadn’t graduated on time, always more invested in his academics than he was, but you were trying to pretend you didn’t care.

“Nice, man,” Tom tried to keep the conversation going. “I applied there, it’s hard to get in.”

“I guess I just hit the books a little harder than you then,” Rafe shrugged.

A scoff escaped you before you had the chance to stifle it. Rafe’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.

“What was that?” Rafe looked sideways at you for a moment.

“Nothing,” you crossed your arms over your chest.

“No, please share,” he prodded. You couldn’t believe he was copping an attitude with you.

“It’s just, I’m sure your last name had nothing to do with your acceptance,” you quipped.

Rafe’s jaw clenched and you smirked in satisfaction, pleased that you had gotten under his skin. Tom’s eyes flicked between the two of you, trying to decipher the vibe.

You were glad he didn’t try to attempt any further small talk. Once you got to the grocery store, you divided the shopping list three ways and split up to your designated aisles. You filled your cart as fast as you could, eager to get this shopping trip over with.

After checking everything off your list, you rounded the corner of the produce section toward the registers, your cart nearly crashing into Rafe’s. His entire shopping cart was filled with alcohol. You laughed at the sight.

“What?” Rafe asked defensively.

“What are the rest of us gonna drink?” You smirked.

“Shut up,” he grinned. “It’s not all for me.”

“Okay but where is the stuff you were supposed to get?”

“It’s under there somewhere,” he mused.

“Sure,” you just shook your head with a smile and kept walking towards the register.

“Shit, wait,” Rafe rolled his cart to you and ran back down one of the aisles.

“No don’t worry about me, I got it,” you muttered to yourself bitterly.

You started pushing both carts but Rafe appeared quickly at your side again.

“Got it,” he breathed, adding one more thing to his cart.

It was a case of Redbull. You shifted on your feet uncomfortably, looking down into his cart. Redbull was his drink of choice in high school, you used to buy him one every day and bring it to him after practice, like a puppy fetching the morning paper. Rafe eyed you nervously, your soured expression leading him to believe you remembered just as well as he did.

“Old habits die hard, huh?” You joked, trying to break the tense moment.

“Yeah, can’t seem to kick that one,” he replied, relieved that you were the first to acknowledge it.

Tom caught up with you at check-out, his cart actually full of the things he was supposed to get. The three of you unloaded your goods to be rung up by a 16-year-old cashier who could not have been more annoyed that you had chosen his register.

Tom jumped in to help bag the groceries, chatting happily with the bag boy as he assisted. Rafe, however, stood there staring at his phone.

After you finished emptying your cart, you watched Tom with a smile while he charmed the grocery store staff. Rafe looked up from his screen with a frown, stomach dropping when he saw that you were watching Tom with an affectionate smile.

“Is that everything?” The cashier asked hopefully.

You were about to say "yes" and also maybe "sorry" when Rafe cut you off.

“No wait, these too,” he reached toward the shelf and grabbed your favorite candy, looking at you expectantly as he handed it to the cashier.

“Your favorite,” he explained bashfully at the sight of your furrowed brows.

“Yeah, it is,” you agreed. “Just surprised you remember. Thanks.”

You looked at him for a moment longer than you should, your eyes lingering on each other’s as you shared another silent memory. You felt a twinge of nostalgia that you knew you shouldn’t.

While you and Rafe looked at each other, Tom pulled out his black card and entered it into the machine. Rafe noticed a moment too late and scrambled to pull his wallet from his pocket, fumbling for his credit card.

“Oh no, hey man, I was gonna get it,” Rafe finally pulled out the credit card he was looking for but Tom was already signing the screen with his finger.

“No worries dude,” Tom brushed him off politely. “You can get me back later this week.”

Rafe was the most competitive person you knew, and the richest, surely he wasn’t going to let another guy pay for everything and walk away. He opened his mouth like he was going to argue with Tom, but with a glance back at you he closed it again. Then he carried as many bags to the car as one person could possibly hold, mumbling something like "multiple trips are for pussies."

Another fifteen minutes of painful silence might just make your head explode, you thought. The second you were back in the truck, the bed overflowing with groceries, you asked Rafe for the aux.

“What are you gonna play?” He sideyed you as he held it just out of reach. You leaned across the console to snatch it from his hands, and he felt pins and needles where your hand had brushed him. He wondered if you realized it was the first time you'd touched each other in four years.

The two of you had always fought over the aux, you’d eventually give in to his pouting and listened to his shitty house mixes and soundcloud rappers.

“Don’t worry about it,” you waved him off with a grin.

Four years ago, you would have been way too nervous to play what you truly wanted to listen to, afraid Rafe wouldn’t think it was cool enough. But now, you pressed play on your go-to playlist with gusto and beamed when your absolute favorite song started booming through his subwoofers.

Rafe tried to keep his eyes on the road, but he couldn’t stop them from dancing back over to you as you sang along happily to your music. You rolled the window down, letting the humid Florida air raise your hair in a wave around you. You giggled and tried to tame it, eventually giving up and letting it whip around your face.

There was something so light about you. Something joyful and at peace. He placed both hands on the steering wheel, trying to ground himself, jealous of your carefree spirit. Whatever intangible thing you had managed to capture in your years apart, he wanted it. And it hit him like a lightning bolt, a bittersweet truth he had fought for so many years - he wanted you.

One song rolled into the next, and Rafe searched for something to say to keep up the almost-friendly banter you had begun in the store, but before he could come up with anything, Tom sat forward suddenly.

“Oh hey I love this song!” Tom informed you.

“Me too!” You turned to smile at him, and Rafe listened enviously as you and Tom chatted about the many favorite artists you have in common the rest of the way home.

The house was quiet when you returned, everyone either taking their daily hangover nap or down lounging by the beach. Rafe’s hands turned white from once again carrying as many plastic bags as he could. You tried not to laugh, and tried not to notice the way his biceps bulged under his tight t-shirt, but you failed at both.

“Are you laughing at me again?” He raised his eyebrows in amusement, placing the bags on the counter. “What is it this time?”

“Sorry, you’re just so helpful all of a sudden,” you pointed out with a smirk.

“Well bag boy over there wasn’t helping,” he nodded towards the patio, where Tom was taking a phone call.

“He said it’s a work call,” you defended him. “He just got a job in New York apparently, a Wall Street thing.

“Whatever,” Rafe mumbled. What he wanted to say was “since when are you two best friends?” but he had already been fairly gruff with you today and he was trying to refocus on his goal of getting you to like him again.

You and Rafe put the groceries away in silence for a while. You tried to find the right way to approach the question you were dying to ask, failing to convince yourself you didn't care about the answer.

“So,” you started nervously. “You didn’t graduate this year?”

Rafe’s shoulders tensed as he tried to make more room in the pantry.

“Nope,” he said shortly.

“Did you take some time off?”

He was torn between being glad that you were talking to him and mad that this was the topic you’d chosen to break the ice with.

“No, I-uh,” he cleared his throat. “I failed a couple classes my first year so I’m still a few credits behind.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said, leaning down to put the ribs for the cookout in the large freezer.

“It’s my own fault,” he shrugged. “I was an idiot back then.”

When you stood from the freezer to grab another rack of ribs, you were surprised to see Rafe standing close, his body looming as he looked down at you.

“I was an idiot before then, too,” he continued, voice low and uncertain.

Everything in your mind went fuzzy as the blood rushed to your face. This was the first time you could smell him, and it familiarity of his scent made you feel like you were being transported back in time. You fought the urge to inhale deeply, greedy for the rush of him filling your senses.

“Before then?” You blinked up at him.

Rafe struggled to find his next words. It took everything in you not to fill in the blanks for him, like you were back in high school slipping him the answers to a test he hadn’t studied for. But this time, you needed him to find the answers all on his own. You swallowed hard, leaving silence for the words he was searching for.

Before he could find them, Topper and Carter came barreling into the kitchen, mid-argument as always. They stopped short when they saw the scene in front of them. Rafe stepped away from you so quickly you could feel a woosh of wind in his wake. It was eerily reminiscent of your teenage years, Rafe separating himself from you as soon as there was anyone around to see you together.

“Everything okay?” Carter asked tensely, noticing the way your shoulders had fallen.

“Fine,” Rafe said, tossing the rest of the plastic bags in the trash and heading down the stairs to his basement bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him.

“Damn, you two did good,” Topper said, admiring the cornucopia of food you’d brought back.

“You three,” Carter corrected. “Tom went too.”

She walked up next to you and lowered her voice, a sly smile on her face, “and how did it go with Tom?”

You didn’t match her playful mood, completely preoccupied thinking about the moment you and Rafe had just shared. Was he about to apologize to you? What would you have let him do if your sister and psuedo-brother-in-law had entered the room just a minute later?

“It was fine,” you said distractedly, closing the fridge and heading upstairs to your room.

Carter turned on her heel and looked at Topper with a frown, shocked to find him beaming back at her.

“What are you smiling for?” She snarled.

“Oh nothing, seems like my plan is working is all,” he grinned. “They were standing awfully close when we walked in.”

“Your plan?” She stepped closer to him, arms crossed. “What are you up to Thornton?”

“Just playing a little Cupid,” he smiled proudly.

“Okay well you can go ahead and put down the bow and arrow, because I’ve already got that covered,” she informed him.

“Really?” He asked in surprise. “I thought you hated Rafe.”

“Rafe? Ew, no, I’m talking about Tom, obviously,” she snapped.

“Your sister and Tom? Nahhh, do you not see how she and Rafe have been looking at each other? It’s so obvious,” he scoffed.

“You know what else is obvious? That Rafe’s still a dick and he doesn’t deserve her,” Carter argued.

“He’s actually grown up a lot,” Topper said, surprising Carter with the serious shift in his tone. “He’s been through some stuff, college hasn’t been easy for him. He could use a win.”

Carter considered this, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy the years of bitterness she held for Rafe.

“Well, he had his chance. He had millions of chances with her and he fumbled every one,” she said.

“I know he did, but under it all he’s a good person. And I think good people deserve second chances,” Topper explained.

“Not when they hurt my sister,” she concluded. “I won’t allow it.”

Topper's eyes creased with his smile as he looked down at her, loving her steely look and pursed lips as she put her hands on her hips.

“You’re still so bossy,” he smiled, sliding closer to her until their chests were nearly touching. “I know we’re supposed to be fighting, but it’s kinda hot.”

He leaned forward to plant a little kiss on her lips, like he’d done a million times before. Carter leaned back, leaving his puckered lips hanging.

“Oh no,” she pushed him back, making him frown. “You don’t get to touch me until you join Team Tom.”

“Nuh-uh! Team Rafe for life baby,” he crossed his arms to match her stance, recovering quickly, more than used to being rejected by her.

She studied him suspiciously, wondering how quickly he’d crack if she actually withheld their inevitable beach trip hook-up. But he didn’t budge, he was as serious about this as she was.

“Fine,” she said. “The game is so on.”

(Chapter 3)

a/n: so tell me... are we Team Tom or Team Rafe?

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