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canarydarity · 2 years ago

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Hard to tell how indicative the bones on the floor are of anything about the catacombs themselves being how, every few minutes, Pix kills another skeleton adding to the collection. He swipes his sword through the one before him, and it collapses so readily into a pile of bone—like it was made to, like it was just waiting on his sword—that he has to wonder, not for the first time, what was holding it together to begin with. The bones rattle and clatter against those already littered around, and Pix sighs at the further disturbance to the scene as it was when he had entered; accounting for the damage likely done by mobs was going to make this hell to study.

He grabs another torch and sets it inside one of the empty sconces that still adorn the walls, readjusts his grip on his sword—he can hear more lingering around the next corner; the low hiss that means a spider is near, the groan or two of a zombie.

Pix picks up a chunk of cobble from the ground and tosses it down the hall, waits. Sure enough, out scuttles a spider. He disposes of it quickly enough, but it seems he’ll have to venture down the dark hall to goad the zombies. He glances at the clock he placed in his hotbar before embarking on this mission (it’s hard to tell how much time passes underground—something he learned quickly in his line of work). There’s still a good amount of daylight left, and he wants the catacombs cleared; he has other projects he has to move on to, things he needs to finish; he’ll just get through a few more halls—it won’t be an issue, surely.

But the new corner he rounds remains dark even as he places a torch behind him to mark the way back. The groans can still be heard, but a zombie is yet to lumber his way, and so he has to wonder what's beyond his admittedly limited sight. Pix shuffles another foot or so forward, a torch in his non-dominant hand now as well, hoping for light, for vision. The research part of him—the logical academic—knows that it shouldn't still be this dark with the torches placed behind him nor the one in his hand, and that part is so much louder and more important than the one that knows this means something is wrong, the part that says turn around.

The torch is lit, he can feel the heat of the flame as he observes it flicker in and out but cast no shadow on the wall behind—a wall Pix can’t even see but knows is there all the same. The circle of light provided extends no further than an inch or two out from the flame itself—comparable more to that of a birthday candle than a lit hand torch. If he hadn’t been staring directly at it, he would’ve assumed the fire snuffed out.

He feels his eye twitch and his brows furrow. Academia liked concrete answers, things that could be explained and reasoned away—unequivocal proof. But Pix had always had a soft spot for the inexplicable, the ineffable. It was nice when he studied something and found an answer, it was riveting when he didn’t. How much more exciting to study it again and again, a riddle that begged not to be solved. (How much sweeter the prize if he were the one to figure it out in the end).

His interest was piqued. He could feel it, the way his attention focused and his surroundings blurred and left him; his body on standby, his sword hand lowered almost subconsciously.

In other words, it was entirely his own fault when the zombie grabbed him. Panic is never a good thing to welcome into a fight, but it likes to show up uninvited anyway. Pix's entire career revolves around studying human behavior, about how human nature cannot be fought against though it oft leads us to our own downfall and ruin. He finds it uncanny when he's reminded that this is a phenomenon from which he is not exempt.

In haste, he elbows the zombie behind him and turns, back now to the darkness—the one not even his torch could dent. It’s an ugly bugger, eyes soft and misshapen from decay and skin so leathery it’s as if it's been treated and is ready for use as a saddle or armor. Logic replaced by horror, before he can run it through it advances, arms out, and Pix drops his sword to reach back, holding it at arm's length itself; their arms interlocked, pose not unlike meeting an old friend again for the first time in a while. His hands grip the woven fabric of what's left of its shirt, too old and worn to be from any time close to recent, and, despite the very real danger, his mind takes the time to process the period-accurate fabric, the hand-stitched design. He blanches again as he looks into its horrible milky eyes—this zombie was from the capital.

Not sentient enough to know why it’s not actually getting any closer to Pixlriffs, the zombie makes a noise that sounds frighteningly human in its frustration and steps forward, and in his distraction, Pix lets it. The push seems to make his brain function yet again, and he shoves the zombie backward a good few paces away, but the momentum sends him stepping back himself, and his foot finds not purchase but, instead, the disturbing lack of solid ground, and with nothing left to do, he falls.

He hits the ground with a thump and a crack and a lot of other sounds he would rather not describe as he feels they were likely very undignified. Winded but, it appears, still in one piece, he grabs another torch and strikes it against the wall, holding it up above him when it lights and shines this time as torches normally do. He buries the part of himself that is disappointed at this—the part that wants to panic and complain finally louder, now, than the part that says hmm.

He didn’t fall too far, it seems. Now that the torch is lit he can see the gap he’d fallen through, just under a dozen feet or so above where he lays. It's obvious even looking from below how the stone floor had crumbled away, taking maybe one or two hits too many over time from overcrowded mobs or shifts in terrain or pressure aboveground. He tilts his head back but sees only another dead end behind him, and ahead looks like a further, deeper hall of the tomb he hadn’t uncovered yet, though the path is obstructed by debris from above; a net of spiderweb blankets the pile of stone and dirt, but no spider seems to be left guarding the web.

His friend above seems to have lost interest now that he’s fallen out of sight, and its moans and groans get further away by the second.

No immediate threat, Pix lets his head fall back onto the ground and takes a breath. He knew the crypt would be full of mobs, he knew it’d be hard, but still…

No, it’s worth it. It will be worth it. He has a job to do.

At least he isn’t defenseless—it’s more than he can say for the dungeons. Not a weapon to his name, fists wrapped in tape so red you’d never believe it’d been white to begin with; knuckles so raw and scraped and beaten by the time he’d made it out that they’d scarred that way—permanent marks of the fighter he was, of the fighter he’d proved to be.

There was a fear there, too, at that very real and physical understanding of permanence. His studies proved expert in providing examples of what was permanent and what wasn’t, and where people weren’t, things were. He’d spent enough time studying what could be learned about a person by the things they left behind to begin to wonder if anyone at all would’ve remembered him if he’d died in those dungeons—not a singular weapon or item for him to leave behind and tell his story.

Pix stops wallowing. He sits up and reaches over his shoulder for his pick; he isn’t shocked to find that the shaft had snapped in two from the fall, it having been strapped to his back. He sighs, tossing it aside as useless. He’ll make another.

He takes the time to remind himself again that he knew it was going to be difficult, and that difficulty was no reason to not continue. But it didn’t just feel difficult it felt…inhibiting. Dissuading, deterring, impeding. It felt deliberate. It felt like, stay out; like, we don’t want you here; like, leave us to our rest.

(it wasn’t, it was something far more sinister. An idea he’d never thought to consider; like a torch was giving off too-little light in the hallway of a dark, long-forgotten crypt, he couldn’t see any farther than what was right in front of his own face. How cliche it’d be, in the end, when it came to pass—the academic too invested in their own research, too dismissive of the present danger posed until it consumed them. He’d have a moment to laugh about it later, when the dread had settled in and all options—or lack thereof—exhausted. While on the topic of permanence…

It was not go away that the tomb was saying, not a driving force out that was being enacted upon the archeologist, but a more frightening call of stay. A threatening but desperate find…become…join…

No, if it were trying to keep him out, why would it keep pushing him deeper? Add this to the list of things he’d realize too late.)

He stands and dusts himself off. The wall is thick and overgrown with glow lichen, and he grabs the nearest vines and tugs one, twice, three times before deciding it won't give and hoisting up. It takes a few minutes and a fair amount of huffing and puffing to get himself to the top and over the edge but he does it, collapsing on higher ground once again and taking a minute to slow his pulse. When he left the dungeons, he dove back into the studies he’d been missing and decided he’d had enough fighting to last a lifetime—this was not without consequence, he’s not nearly as in shape as he used to be.

His sword is still on the ground where he’d dropped it, so he reequips and readies himself to push his way back out; he’d have to make time to come back and clear the rest another day. He would be back, and he hoped he would be welcomed.

“I don’t mean to disturb you,” he says into the quiet blackness of the catacombs. He doesn't dare speak above a whisper, for there were still mobs around and his voice carried enough as it was, bouncing along the empty stone and quiet graves. “I'd like to tell your story.”

There's nothing to hear but for the scuttling of various creatures far off in the dark, the shrill whistle of stray wind through small openings and holes. He raises his voice only slightly, a bit bolder. “Don’t you want me to do that? Will—would you allow me to do that?”

Silence, and then—the rattle and clatter of a skeleton. It sounds like only one; he lit everything up pretty well on his way in, getting out should be easier. Striking another torch against the wall, Pix prepares to go. For a second, the light is brighter than it should be, its circle of light illuminating the hall completely, the hole he’d fallen into, the distance to the other side. He leans back to avoid the heat of the flame, and he sees it.

The other side of the cave-in leads not to another tunnel but to an alcove, and empty it is not. His torch, though many feet away, sheds light on the scene; the heavily wax-encrusted stone above a pile of used candles and burnt wicks, the coin and other offerings of gold overflowing from bowls and chalices and any other orifice they could be piled upon, and her.

He recognizes her immediately. The tapestry covers the majority of the wall, and though it's faded for certain, the lack of direct sunlight has done wonders at preserving what it could. The colors are familiar to his research, the subtle and light greens under warm oranges and yellows. He’s too far, he cannot see any detail; the background, what she's holding, her face—but he knows her. She’s their patron.

The skeleton wanders closer, its bones clicking and clacking down the hall. Pix swallows.

“I’ll return for you, I will.” It’s a promise. She’s holding a secret, he knows she is—he’s going to figure out what. Pix turns just in time to face the skeleton as it rounds the corner, and soon its bones join those on the floor, new and old alike.

His words still echo off the caverns and crevices of the catacombs after he's left and gone, and though not possible to have been heard by human ears, the crypt whispers back good.

~-~-~-~

Far below even the hole the archeologist had fallen in, leagues underneath the surface of the earth, buried perhaps the furthest underground of anything left behind from the ancient capital—so deeply you’d have to wonder if maybe it was done on purpose—the crown sits in a chest, waiting patiently to be discovered. It’s not a matter of if, but a nice decisive and quiet when. Eventually, the echo of the archeologists' words falls upon it where it sits, and slowly it begins to emit a soft glow. It says stay, it says find, it says become, it says join.

It says soon.

#me when i dont write anything for almost an entire month and then inexplicably come back with 2000 words of pixlriffs fanficiton #all of which is completely self-indulgent #if you couldn't tell by tags on my recent reblogs and by this hey im doing so bad about pix being fucking dead and all #the blind academic...to be so invested in your work that it consumes you...#to disregard danger for the sake of being so close to what you believe is an answer #he studied the past so hard that he became it #hahahaha.#good thing he enjoys his work #because now he can never leave.#okay sorry not to write a 2000 word fic and then also write like another 300 in the tags #but also its mY POST!! GET OFF MY LAWN!! IM ALLOWED TO DO THAT! WAH IM SAD!#last thing but i have so much more to say about pixs background being his weaponless playthrough of mc dungeons. so.#someone talk to me about this /please #i lied. new last thing. now that this is out of my head :) hey :) all my fic planning is done im gonna start writing sentinel species #worm writes #empires smp #empires smp fic #empires smp fanfic #pixlriffs #pixlriffs fic #empires season 2 #esmp season 2

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quietwingsinthesky · 1 year ago

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🌹:O

:3c

Lucifer doesn't care how the labcoats say it works; he knows there's no such thing as a clean break from a drift the minute the plug is pulled. Instead, Michael goes from a second consciousness beside his own to being dragged out of Lucifer the further Lucifer gets from him, both of them gripping tight to the connection until it slips, until it snaps, with a violent recoil that knocks Lucifer's brain out of alignment and reminds his legs that they don't work. His next step falls too fast, too heavily, and refuses to take his weight. It's only Michael, now only a voice outside of Lucifer's head yelling his name, catching him from behind that allows Lucifer to collapse to the floor with his dignity intact.

#is this more than one sentence? yes. yes it is. because tumblr deleted this post once and pissed me off.#i had so many tags about lucifer already and boom. gone.#anyway. tfw you see your boyfriend get severely injured during a battle and this makes you panic so bad you manage to make it a few meters #which is a lot for a guy who can't actually walk.#lucifer's got a whole Situation. turns out plugging a guy's brain up to a giant robot is not without its bugs.#especially when said guy was one of the first to be stuck inside the giant robot with his brother. and testing was a lower priority due to #everyone wanting a faster solution to the Giant Fucking Monsters. so lucifer's brain got overloaded and can't send signals to his legs #anymore to move right unless he's hooked up to a mech. technically when this first happened the doctor told him 'well if you stop doing mec #shit you can walk again.' but 1) he's not doing that. and 2) that was years ago. just because that recommendation is still on a file #somewhere doesn't mean it would actually work for him. or even that it would have back then. it's still the official answer for 'fixing' hi #because that's better optics than the truth. which is that he can't walk.*#(technically. technically. if he was left disconnected from the mech for a week he could walk. it would also be exhausting. and painful.#and slow. this is not something lucifer considers to be helpful information when he moves faster and with more ease in his chair.#this is something other people like to point out about him that makes him want to start hitting them. and it's not even really true anymore #the 'a week disconnected' thing. again. was a long time ago. it would take over a month for him to stand nowadays.)#(v few people Get all of this but like. michael is one of them. he's in lucifer's head enough that it would be weirder for him not to get i #add to that him being one of the few people who has seen lucifer walk nowadays and focused more on 'hey he looks like he hates that'#than praising it. and he gets it. and is also the requisite amount of annoyed when lucifer *runs off* before michael can help him into his #chair!! not the first time this has happened and will not be the last. michael's used to catching him.)#ask #oh my god that was so much rambling. this isnt even the point of the fic btw. this is just. backstory. worldbuilding.

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nagititiis · 2 years ago

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*stares out into the distance* ........i miss haru. i miss him a lot.

#OOC; *puts on fake stache*#((hey my tags are still here!))#((i miss my wife tails..))#((i miss s.okka too..i need to rewatch a.tla man))#((i literally want to redo everything for both of them so i #'m probably going to make new blogs))#((but fun fact for haru a small part of me *doesnt* want to ONLY bc i have so many musings posts i like here..gonna rb them all AGAIN))#((but you know what. i think i will redo lmao))#((i'm not gonna say 'soon' bc *looks at my last posts here* sometimes i say im going to do things and then i dont))#((also classes are gonna start again soon so.))#((but yeah just dropping here in to say hi i guess <3))#((I AM ON OTHER BLOGS THO I JUST REALISED THAT SOUNDS LIKE I DROPPED OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH))#((i'm over @/primordyalsoul and @/sffroncloaked !!))#((also i dont really rp on disco.rd bc i suck at it but if you want my handle!! ask!! im much easier to reach and talk to there!!))

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smol-tired-binch-blog · 2 months ago

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SO. HERE'S THE DEAL. I have several questions:

A) Is there a Yakuza drawing prompt list for October? A Tojotober if you will? (or would it be Tojoctober)

B) If so, where is it?

C) Is there one or several 'official' Goretober prompt lists, or do we have to make up our own?

D) If the former, where are they?

E) WHICH ONE SHOULD I DO

#smol speaks #goretober #october challenge #granted it was a VERY quick look on Twitter but no one was posting their lists like 'hey tag me with this if u use it!' so it's like wait #what do you mean you've finally worked out what you're doing? Were we ALWAYS meant to make up our own??? Am i gonna be a dickhead #if i follow one??? I saw one which is such a BANGER that im already itching to start the final one #but like you can fuck off im writing my own i can barely draw these days. Ofc the Tojotober question is because im Yakuza brainrotted #and maybe this would force me to draw characters other than my fave two. Or at least i can tag my pals so they give it a go #idk why i asked the last question it'll be goretober wont it. BUT STILL. i rarely do every prompt so maybe i can do both?

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floral-hex · 6 months ago

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So this is my thing now, I’m afraid to go to sleep. This is kinda bullshit, brain.

#I feel like I’m going to die when I fall asleep #see… I’m afraid you think I just mean I’m scared of death #no no no. no. I feel like I’m suffocating. I have to force myself to breathe. my body tingles (in a bad way). I get really overheated.#I get dizzy and feel like I’m going to pass out from lack of air. I feel sick.#I haven’t slept much lately.#I’m miserable alllll the time. I can maybe force sleep with super exhaustion but I’m drained no matter what #this isn’t the first time it’s happened but this is the longest it’s gone on #from that my anxiety is now blanketing everything bc I’m so tired and scared about not getting to sleep #sickening anxiety. I feel like puking or passing out. and I got hit with some heavy (but thankfully short) virtigo yesterday #terrible terrible terrible #and seriously. anxiety. so bad. I’m constantly trying to get high right now to fight it but it’s rough #getting high is starting to make me feel sick too. and my tolerance is building. it’s like… it’s all bad. all options.#I hate this.#AND it’s the weekend and my new primary can’t see me until Wednesday and then I’ve got to beg for… I dunno… the good stuff #god. I told myself I’d go see my doctor about this a couple of weeks ago when this last hit and I didn’t 😓#ideal scenario: all doctors fall in love with me and medically induce a short coma for me to catch up on sleep and then they give me drugs #this new doctor doesn’t know me! I haven’t laid enough groundwork! how am I supposed to beg for klonopin if we have no banter!?#that wasn’t a joke. I mean it was but it’s also serious. I need some GOOD anti-anxieties and he doesn’t know me enough to know I NEEDS IT😬#also my tinnitus is just… no sleep + stress means it gets stronger and it’s… a fucking wet willy shoved through my ear into my skull #and if I hit a bad patch of virtigo… I will… redacted.#I won’t! I will go running crying and screaming in the street before I off myself.#HEY! my insurance says I can get 30 days in-patient and I always keep that thought in my bad pocket.#*back pocket. I’m not about to go back and start redoing tags because of a few misspellings #this is so rambly #my brain is fried! I’m tired! my appetite is fucked! I don’t want to do ANYTHING!#I mean… I never want to do anything. I love being lazy. I should say that right now I CAN’T do anything. but I can. but it’s… a lot. fuck 😔#this must sound so whiny. I’m sorry. I’m sure I’ll be making more posts like this until this goes away #you can ignore this #text

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neverendingford · 9 months ago

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#tag talk #hey bitches. she's afk so mom said it's my turn with the body. feels good to be back. I hate half of you parasites and I'm blocking some #same with Instagram. bunch of fucking drones posting shitty memes and sending the most unfunny jokes possible. blocking most of you there #started the process of sorting some things out with her girlfriend because damn some things are unacceptable and you've gotta say something.#she gets to do the soft and useless damage control later I guess I don't fucking care. I'm not going to let us get disrespected like that.#she lets it slide but I'm done taking shit.#sent an angry email to our therapist last night as well because fucking hell how can you be so incompetent at your fucking job.#Jesus h Christ didn't you study this in school or something? yeah we've gone through multiple therapists sorry that makes you insecure???#you're not the first and from the looks of things you're not going to be the last either.#saw the psychiatrist this morning and bipolar confirmed I guess. we'll see whether the new meds make much of a difference.#I kind of don't want them to though. I like being out and finally able to sort our shit out.#feels good to finally message people and tell them how I feel. I don't get a voice much anymore #and ugh I hate having long hair so much but I have to keep it because she needs it so I'll put up with it for her sake but damn I miss short #short hair was genuinely so fucking good and the hassle of long hair is so stupidly intensive but gender dysphoria so whatever I guess #anyway bye you mouth breathers I'm off to go get this stupid-ass body showered #I hate having a penis too though. that's one thing we can both agree on. it's so stupid and it hangs out and the shape is so stupid #God should take constructive criticism and also mean criticism because I have some opinions about how shitty his design is #anyway. bye idiots #Fade is such a fucking good band they were such a good pick for the Deadman Wonderland op

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rhaenyratargcryen · 4 months ago

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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

2K notes · View notes

svtiddiess · 1 month ago

Text

Nom Nom

Synopsis: After what seems like years of asking, your boyfriend has finally allowed you to bite his tiddies.

Pairing: Seungcheol x afab!reader

Genre: suggestive, mini-series, established relationship

Rating: suggestive/mature

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: biting, marking, nipple play, dry humping, lemme know if I missed anything!

Note: This is kind of a continuation of the boyfriend texts post, but it's not really necessary to read it! It will help with some context though!

Thank you so much to @seokgyuu for beta reading!

Tagging @brownsugarbaybee as usual!

This feels very on-brand for me.

Read the sequel: Nom Nom: The Revenge

Read part 3: Nom Nom: The Gyutiddies

Click here to join my taglist!

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

You giggle to yourself as you enter your shared apartment. You can't believe Seungcheol actually agreed to it; after what seems like months of asking, he's finally agreed to let you bite his tiddies. Although you had to admit you were only joking when you asked him those 500 or so times, you were actually kind of excited to finally have this opportunity.

As you enter the living room, you find Seungcheol seated on the couch in an oversized hoodie with a pout plastered on his face. You look at him quizzically as you approach him.

"I thought I asked you to be prepped and ready on the bed," you huff, half-joking with him.

He looks up at you with wide eyes, his pout somehow deepening. "You were actually serious about that?" he asks, exasperated.

"Of course I was serious," you scoff. "When am I ever not serious?"

"Pretty much all the time," he huffs. You let out a small "hey" and playfully hit his shoulder.

"Now stop dilly-dallying and go lie down on the bed," you demand, crossing your arms. He lets out a whine and wraps his arms around your torso, snuggling his face into your abdomen.

"Princess," he whines, then looks up at you with puppy eyes. "Please don't do this to me," he pleads.

"Nope, not happening. No amount of whining and pouting is getting you out of this Cheollie. It's too late now. You already agreed to it," you look down at him and grin. He groans and hides his face in your abdomen.

"Now chop chop. Or else no kisses for a week," you state. His head jerks up, and his eyes widen.

"No kisses for a week?!" He exclaims.

"Princess, you can't do this to me!" He complains.

"I can and I will," you huff. "Now hurry up!"

With a final grumble, he reluctantly lets go of you and stands up.

"Please let Cheollie go," he pouts and cups your face.

"Cheollie is about to get his ass whooped if he doesn't get on the bed within the next five seconds," you sarcastically grin.

Shoulders slumping at his last ditch effort, he makes his way to the bedroom with you closely following behind.

He sits on the bed, fidgeting with his fingers while staring at the floor. You giggle at how shy he seems.

"Well, what're you waiting for? Strip," you smirk.

He looks at you with a pout, a blush dusting his cheeks as he slowly reaches for the hem of his hoodie. He slowly pulls off his hoodie and quickly covers his chest with his arms, causing you to laugh. Your boyfriend, who was usually dominant in bed, is now acting like a shy virgin; you can't help but laugh at his actions.

"Stop laughing," he whines, blushing harder.

"I can't help it," you giggle. "You're acting like I've never seen you naked before."

"Well, it feels weird, okay?" He grumbles with a pout.

You can't help but coo at him. You move to straddle his lap and cup his blushing face.

"I promise I'll be gentle. You can ask me to stop anytime," you whisper. You lean in to gently kiss him as reassurance that you won't do anything he's uncomfortable with.

"Now, lean against the headboard," you murmur. You get off his lap to allow him to lean against the headboard and get comfortable.

Once he's comfortable, you straddle his waist and start leaving wet kisses along his jaw, helping him relax. You smile to yourself when you feel him slowly relax under you.

Slowly making your way to his lips, you capture them into a passionate kiss, moaning at the feeling of his tongue against yours. You lightly grind against him, causing him to groan into your mouth.

You pull away from him, both of you panting. He looks incredible beneath you, his eyes dazed, lips swollen, and breathless. You shift to leave kisses down his neck, your teeth grazing against his skin.

You hear his breath hitch when you reach his chest. They feel so firm beneath you that you can’t resist moving your hands to squeeze them.

"Princess," he groans.

"God, I love how firm your chest feels," you whine, squeezing him harder.

You lean down to lick one of his nipples, causing him to shut his eyes and moan out loud.

"F-Fuck princess," he groans as you start sucking on the bud.

He throws his head back and shuts his eyes when he feels your teeth lightly digging into his skin. You start sucking on the bud, causing him to let out a string of curses. After finishing marking the bud, you move on to the other one, giving it equal attention. He lets out a loud groan when you pinch his puffed-up nipple. You feel his bulge growing as he ruts against you.

"Feel good Cheollie?" You purr after sitting up to look at him.

"Feels so good princess," he moans, eyes screwed shut.

You grin, then lean down to start marking his chest. He lets out a long groan and arches his back. Small pants and moans escape his lips as your marks get deeper and rougher. Blotches of red and purple slowly bloom across his chest, painting it with your mark. His hips jerk up, and a whimper escapes his lips when you bite down particularly hard.

Enjoying his reactions, you continue to abuse his chest, savouring every moment. You lean back to take a minute and cherish your work. You beam when you see his chest covered in bruises, bites, and saliva.

"Look at me Cheollie," you purr. He opens his eyes to look at you, his eyes blown out and a fucked out expression on his face.

"Are you alright baby?" You murmur, caressing his flushed cheeks. He nods breathlessly, the corner of his lips lifting up into a fucked out smile.

Just then, an idea strikes you, and you smirk before leaning in close to his ear.

"I'm going to mark you with my initials," you purr. "After all, an artist has to sign their painting to show who it belongs to, right baby?" You giggle. You feel his dick twitch at your words.

"You like that Cheollie? You like being marked by me?" You smirk. He lets out a soft whimper and grinds against you, causing you to let out a giggle.

"I am an artist, and you are my canvas baby," you whisper before shifting back to his chest.

You lean down and begin biting and sucking the skin, marking your initials into his left chest cause it's closer to his heart, making sure they take up most of the space. You have to show him and everyone else who belongs in his heart, of course. You hear him moan and groan under you, his hands on your hips to keep you steady. After embedding your initials into his skin, you sit up and admire your handiwork.

You look down and pout, still unsatisfied with your work, feeling like something was missing. That's when it hits you; you giggle as you lean back down to encapsulate your initials with a heart.

"Princess, what—" his question is abruptly cut off by a moan as you bite down harder than usual, silently asking him to simply let you do what you want.

You sit up after finishing the heart, finally satisfied with your work.

"So pretty Cheollie," you purr as you gently trace your fingers across your artwork. "I need to take a picture."

"A picture?" he asks, a puzzled expression crossing his face.

"Of course! I need to forever encapsulate my masterpiece after all," you giggle. You shift to reach for your phone on the side table, causing him to groan.

"Princess, you're killing me here," he mutters.

"Hush! I'm busy taking pretty pictures of my pretty man," you grin as you proceed to take multiple pictures of him.

Your words make him blush, and you squeal, thrilled that the pictures are turning out even better than you expected. He looks so pretty with your mark on him, his cheeks flushed red and his eyes dazed. You're definitely going to use them as your wallpaper for a while.

"Enough," he growls, snatching your phone and tossing it back onto the table. You let out a gasp when he suddenly flips you over, him now on top of you.

"I've let you have your fun, but now it's my turn."

1K notes · View notes

5sospenguinqueen · 5 months ago

Text

Growing Pains Pt 2 | Oscar Piastri x Reader

Summary: Oscar thought leaving was the best thing for you, but quickly realised he cannot function without you.

Warnings: Swearing. Fluff. Suggestive content.

2024 season. Childhood sweethearts. No facelaim, just rando Pinterest pics

This acc just ended up being Landoscar fluff because I consumed too much of them after Silverstone lol

F1 Masterlist

prev.

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mclaren just posted

liked by aussiegrit, ln4 and others

mclaren oscar’s post race interviews #bahraingp

2,559 comments

mclaren please enjoy some clips of our aussie talking about the one aspect of his life NOT involved with his job

→ user1 did mclaren just hard launch a relationship?

→ user2 no because why did they post clips that specifically don’t mention a name

→ user3 yes but the familiarity of the way he’s talking about this girl must mean it’s one he’s known since he was 14???

danielricciardo caught simping in 4k

thisisnotyn oscar sweaty got me feeling some kind of way

charles_leclerc oh god, that goofy smile is back. i know what that means

→ maxverstappen1 he’s going to start yapping more than i do

→ user4 what do you know?!

alex_albon mate, i’m not going to lie, i don’t think we can defend you from this anymore

→ oscarpiastri you sent me memes of my face. you have never defended me

→ georgerussell63 join the club. wait until he sends you reaction gifs

→ landonorris i love getting those

YourUserName pookie

→ user5 um, is she calling oscar pookie?

→ user6 well, it’s not going to be lando. he was only in one of the clips

→ user7 idk, we don’t know what happened between them. it could’ve been a bad breakup and she might be trying to piss them off

→ landonorris ew, no. it’s not me. they made up weeks ago btw. no way osco would’ve lasted this long without his yn

→ YourUserName what do you mean ew! you’d be lucky to have me

→ danielricciardo no he wouldn’t

oscarpiastri i also talked a lot about my performance in the race

→ landonorris and where is that footage, huh??? funny how it doesn’t exist

→ oscapiastri yn says you’re not allowed to tag along to date night anymore because you insulted both of us

→ landonorris :(

→ user8 what do you mean he tagged along on date night?

→ user9 why are we skipping past the fact that lando confirmed that they’re back together

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YourUserName just posted

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and others

YourUserName ladies, get a boyfriend who looks at you the way Oscar looks at Lando (actually, can you get me one first because mine seems to be broken)

1,142 comments

oscarpiastri whoa, you told me i was a handsome boy. that photo doesn’t look like a handsome boy

→ YourUserName some people are into the serial killer eyes. not me though, that’s why i’m asking the fans to find me a new bf

→ logansargeant i’ll help

→ user10 we know which side logan is choosing in the divorce

landonorris how does it feel to know that your boyfriend likes me more

→ YourUserName i know how to cut brake lines

→ landonorris 😰😰

→ mclaren yn, please don’t threaten our drivers

→ YourUserName hey, i’ll take them both out if they don’t end their affair

→ oscarpiastri and here i was thinking you would cut his brake lines so i could get on the podium instead

→ YourUserName sure, we can go with that

user11 can we take a moment to enjoy the fact that they’ve been back together for 4 months and he’s still letting her bully him

→ YourUserName i’m riding the guilt trip until the very end

→ oscarpiastri i love you

→ YourUserName i know

→ landonorris but not as much as he loves me!

→ YourUserName i know where you sleep

→ landonorris yeah, with your boyfriend!

→ oscarpiastri don’t tell the internet that!

danielricciardo lando used to look at me that way

→ YourUserName i think we should start a spurned wags group

→ danielricciardo i’ll bring the wine

→ YourUserName i’ll bring the lightning mcqueen crocs

→ liamlawson30 can i join?

oscarpiastri sweetheart, you know you’re the light of my life

→ YourUserName didn’t feel that way when you guided lando away from a puddle and let me put my foot right in it

→ oscarpiastri i gave you my socks!

→ YourUserName they were sweaty

→ oscarpiastri it’s all i had…

→ mclaren yn, please stop bullying him. we can hear him crying from his driver’s room

→ user12 no because the fact that the majority of mclaren admin’s online interactions are just begging yn to behave

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oscarpiastri just posted

liked by logansargeant, YourUserName and others

oscarpiastri when you say date night and she says I’m not putting pants on

2,329 comments

YourUserName thank you for sharing your pizza with me after i burnt mine <3

→ oscarpiastri i can’t wait to share more with you

landonorris did she hide in your neck at the scary parts

→ oscarpiastri no she fucking laughed at the way he was running

→ landonorris you cuddled into her neck at the scary parts, didn’t you

→ oscarpiastri i plead the fifth

→ YourUserName it’s okay, princess, you know i’ll always protect you

logansargeant no because they had their ‘date night’ 3 days ago and the paintings they did of each other are hanging in their bathroom, and when i tell you they were a shock to the system

→ user13 logan, show them to us, please

YourUserName it’s not my fault that it’s hard to keep pants on when you’re around

liked by oscarpiastri

→ mclaren we talked about this

→ landonorris my eyes!

→ user14 @ aussiegrit come get your kids

→ YourUserName don’t tag him in it. mark still thinks i’m nice

→ oscarpiastri no, he knows you’re a gremlin

arthur_leclerc not you trying to pretend that you are romantic when you asked me for all of those ideas

→ YourUserName oh really?

→ oscarpiastri i had a whole night planned and you decided you didn’t want to go out!

→ alex_albon no because you really had him stressing

→ georgerussell63 he was even messaging the grid group chat

→ danielricciardo he had a whole group of guys debating the best alternative to rose petals

→ YourUserName because i don’t like roses 🥹 oh, osc. it was perfect

→ oscarpiastri 🤍🤍

→ user15 anyone else finding this suspicious

charles_leclerc a date night to remember, i’m sure. and not for the lack of pants

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user1 rough night in the piastri house, he’s upset mom and wifey

arthur_leclerc welcome to the family, oscar. please don’t bring yn with you

→ YourUserName you’re just jealous that i didn’t want dinner with you

→ maxverstappen1 wait, i thought i was your favourite. why don’t you want dinner with me?

→ charles_leclerc you are welcome for dinner anytime, yn

→ oscarpiastri see, what you’ve done. now lestappen are fighting. you promised to keep your crushes to yourself

user2 i love how now that oscar is past his rookie year, his true personality of being a gremlin has come out

→ user3 now that shy oscar has gone we’re seeing just how well he pairs with yn

→ arthur_leclerc and i can guarantee the grid are missing shy oscar. i have had to put up with this since 2021

→ georgerussell63 i can confirm we do

→ logansargeant now you understand why i prefer to be quiet. if you don’t talk, they can’t bully you

→ georgerussell63 my name on yn’s phone is amelia georgehart

→ oscarpiastri we’ve been together for years and mine is peestri pants, count yourself lucky

→ YourUserName lando’s is just fucker.

→ landonorris the full stop included?

nicolepiastri i have some questions

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YourUserName just posted

liked by lilymhe, alexandrasaintmleux and others

YourUserName weekends away with you

1,012 comments

YourUserName thank you for a lovely weekend away from the madness. i could spend forever with you in our little bubble

→ danielricciardo oh wow so you’re both simps?

→ YourUserName look away! i have a reputation to maintain

→ oscarpiastri no you don’t. you luuuuurve me

landonorris i can’t believe you left me behind

charles_leclerc remove your head from that poor girl’s shirt. i raised you better than that

pierregasly someone convince kiks to do this with me. she refuses to go camping

→ francisca.cgomes because neither of us would survive sleeping on the ground

→ oscarpiastri neither would yn if not for the fact that we camped in the back garden

→ YourUserName why would i want to go somewhere without a functioning toilet!

logansargeant where is your shirt. nobody wants to see that

→ YourUserName i think you’ll find that i did

→ oscarpiastri she’s a big fan

mclaren please come back, we miss you

→ oscarpiastri yn says she still has another weekend before she has to return me

→ mclaren we were talking to yn

→ YourUserName miss you too, boo 🧡

→ landonorris why don’t you speak to me like that

→ YourUserName ‘cause you stole my osc

→ oscarpiastri no one could take me from you

user4 no because that last pic screams engagement photo and i don't know why

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charles_leclerc just posted

liked by arthur_leclerc, carlossainz55 and others

charles_leclerc i am an incredibly proud father right now

10,226 comments

oscarpiastri in other words, i convinced the prettiest girl in the world to marry me

→ YourUserName and now i have the prettiest husband in the world

user5 how is lando taking oscar looking at someone else that way?

→ landonorris not well

→ danielricciardo he cried the whole day

→ YourUserName that’s why i gave him my flowers

→ landonorris no i earnt those!

→ lilymhe yeah, i still have the bruises!

user6 miss rabbit has fainted

YourUserName i enjoyed our father-daughter dance

→ fernandoalo_official @ aussiegrit the monegasque is trying to steal our children

→ oscarpiastri now i’m in trouble with mark

→ YourUserName i’ll make it up to you on our honeymoon

→ oscarpiastri 😳☺️

user6 fuck you to all the bitches who said they wouldn’t last because they’ve never dated anyone else

mclaren what a beautiful couple. i think we need to put those up around MTC

→ YourUserName i think zak would really appreciate them in his office

→ oscarpiastri what makes you think i haven’t already put them up around MTC. gotta keep my wife with me wherever i go

→ YourUserName stop making me giggle

user7 definition of soulmates

arthur_leclerc welcome to the family, yn. even though i asked oscar to leave you behind when he was adopted

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YourUserName just posted

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and others

YourUserName i made something

10,229 comments

nicolepiastri and an amazing job you did, sweetheart

→ YourUserName i love you 💗

→ user8 nicer to mama piastri than she is to her own husband

oscarpiastri i helped

→ YourUserName you contributed for like 2 seconds

→ oscarpiastri stop being mean to me or i may fall in love with you

→ landonorris 2 second wonder

→ YourUserName you would know

charles_leclerc i’m too handsome to be a grandpapa

→ YourUserName certified gilf

→ oscarpiastri i cannot believe you made me read that. i thought you were better than this

→ YourUserName whoa, i have never been better than this and you know that but i can blame it on baby hormones this time

→ charles_leclerc and oscar will let you get away with it

→ oscarpiastri damn right. she just had my baby

landonorris does this mean i get the chance to win godfather of the year

→ danielricciardo don’t tell me they actually named you godfather. you can barely keep yourself alive

→ logansargeant yn got to pick me so oscar was given the choice to pick the other

→ oscarpiastri we made the decision together as loving parental unit

→ YourUserName the decision was made whilst i was high on gas and motherly love

→ oscarpiastri stop making it sound like i coerced you

→ YourUserName you had your top off! of course i was coerced. piastitties

→ mclaren yn, no

oscarpiastri sweetheart, i have loved you every day since we were 14 and being by your side these past 9 months, watching you go through such a monumental change, only proved that it was possible for me to love you even more. i can’t wait to see our family grow 💕

→ YourUserName i love you so much, oscie. from growing with you to growing our own mini us, i’d go through all the pain again for forever with you

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Hi, guys. If you have requested previously, I promise they're coming. I've just got them added to my list

Baby Fever Angst Series

Tag list

@barcelonaloverf1life @rlalliehayes @dullypully @softtina @callsignwidow @luvrrish @fall-bambi @evans-dejong @sadsierra2 @justdreamersdream @spookystitchery @dark-night-sky-99 @majusialikesfastcars @luckyladycreator2 @bborra @mrosales16 @reguluscrystals @tvdtw4ever @alwaysclassyeagle @gigicisneros @spanishcorndogs @thecubanator2 @goldenharrysworld @awritingtree @sbrn0905 @hc-dutch @mxdi0 @buckybarnessweetheart @ironmaiden1313 @dreamercrowd @yourbane @glow-ish @g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e @leclercsluvs @weekendlusting @urdad-hot @lemon-lav @rosecentury @peachiicherries

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aquaticmercy · 1 month ago

Text

Of Heroes and Heartstrings (Part Two)

Summary : Bucky Barnes develops a crush on the researcher who interviewed him, so Bucky invites her to game night.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader (she/her) (The reader works in academia and is writing about superheroes and how they perceive themselves in the 21st century)

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Bucky crushing hard on you. This chapter features Yelena, Sam, Rhodey, Scott, Happy, and Clint. Mention of the characters' pasts.

Requested by : myself again

Word count : 2.9k

Note : I absolutely love writing about this group playing monopoly. In my head this fic is post-FATWS. Let me know if you want to be tagged in part 3!

Series Masterlist

Requests are open!

The game night buzzed with energy as everyone arrived. The apartment was full of chatter and laughter, and the table was already set up with Monopoly. Sam had invited Yelena, Rhodey, Clint, Scott, and of course, Happy—figuring that a mix of personalities would make the night fun. Bucky, however, was only thinking about you.

He nervously glanced at the clock, noticing that you were running a little late. Every minute that you weren't here stretched to what felt like hours. He started scanning his mind for signs that maybe you didn't like him as much as Sam insisted you were.

You had said your apartment was only fifteen minutes away from Sam’s, but he couldn't help the knot of worry tightening in his chest. Had something happened to you that he wasn’t aware of? Should he have picked you up?

Sam noticed and raised an eyebrow. "Why's your face doing that thing?"

Bucky's brow furrowed, proving his point. "What thing?"

"The thing you do when you're thinking too much. Is everything cool with you two?" Sam teased, leaning back on the couch.

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, I just... I thought she'd be here by now."

Sam waved him off, “It’s only been five minutes."

Bucky opened his mouth to respond, but a knock at the door cut him off.

That must be her!

He jumped to his feet so quickly that Sam barely had time to move.

Bucky sprinted to the door, yanking it open. His features softened when he saw you standing there with an apologetic smile and a large container in hand.

"I'm so sorry I'm late," you said, eyes wide with that charming nervous smile of yours that made his heart flutter. "The cookies took a lot longer than I expected."

Bucky’s shoulders relaxed, letting out a breath he didn’t realise he'd been holding. Sam grinned from across the room. “Cookies? You're already my favourite.”

“Hey you,” Bucky finally greeted, his voice just quiet enough that it felt like it was meant only for you.

“Hey yourself,” you replied, playfully bumping his arm as you walked inside, giving Sam the container. “You ready to lose to me tonight?”

He smirked, leaning in a little closer. “Is that your game plan? Bribe us with cookies and then wipe the floor with us?”

“Maybe,” you said, with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

Bucky introduced you to anyone you haven’t met, heart thumping against your chest as he called you your date for the evening.

Of course, you were a bit starstruck by the attendance. You’ve met Yelena, Happy, and Sam, but not Rhodey, Clint, and Scott. For the first half an hour, you were making small talk, telling them about your research, and they seemed quite impressed.

Again, you had to remind yourself that you were here as Bucky’s date. It would be unprofessional for you to psychoanalyze everyone. To their credit, they were friendly enough that you forgot that you were even in the presence of superheroes. People you’ve been studying for your entire career.

When it came time to sit around the table, Rhodey and Sam were already bickering while Yelena fidgeted with the other pieces.

“I get the car every time. You know this,” Rhodey insisted.

“Since when? You weren't even here last week!” Sam fired back.

Scott, already shuffling through the Community Chest cards, shrugged. “Just be happy we’re not playing Risk.”

“I'm banned from that game," Happy chimed in, shaking his head at the memory.

You raised your eyebrows in amusement. The infamous Happy Hogan, who was always known as Stark's calmer counterpart, throwing a tantrum?

“I’ll be the banker,” Clint announced, snatching the bills.

“No way,” Happy interrupted, grabbing the stack of money from his hand. “I don’t trust you. I’ve seen you cheat at Scrabble.”

Clint raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “I would never cheat.”

Yelena chuckled from her seat, already strategizing. “I’ve seen him making up new words and gaslighting us. It’s ridiculous.”

Scott leaned over to you. “It’s always the spies.”

Clint snorted, hearing Scott’s snarky remark. “I’ll have you bankrupt in 30 minutes.”

“You’re still bitter I bankrupted you on Park Place that one time,” Scott shot back, rolling his eyes in fake accusation.

Bucky shook his head, sitting beside you as everyone prepared for the game to unfold. “Clint’s got a way of making Monopoly feel personal.”

“You have no idea,” Clint replied with a grin, eyeing the cash like he was already planning his financial empire.

Scott took the thimble piece and tossed it up in the air before catching it again. “I think I’m gonna dominate this game today. I’m feeling some serious thimble energy.”

Happy sat back with a grin, the ship piece already in front of him. "I don’t know, Scott. I’ve played with Rhodey before. He’s a tough opponent."

Rhodey chuckled, counting out his starting money to make sure he’s not missing anything. “I’m just saying, don’t get too attached to your properties. I play the long game.”

Yelena was the first to make a big move, buying up all the cheap properties on the board. "Don’t underestimate Baltic Avenue," she said with a smirk, landing on yet another low-cost space.

Bucky groaned as he immediately landed on one of Yelena's properties, dramatically tossing a few monopoly bills at her. “Of course. The minute I buy something, I end up in debt to Yelena.”

She shrugged, arranging the cash in an organised pile. “It’s just business.”

Bucky chuckled, but he kept his eyes on you, watching as you cautiously made your first purchase. You weren’t as aggressive as Yelena or Rhodey, but you were smart, slowly accumulating enough properties to stay in the game without drawing too much attention.

You snatched up Boardwalk, prompting a groan from Clint who landed on it two turns later. “This is rigged,” he accused, tossing his money towards you.

“Oh, please,” Yelena replied, barely looking at him as she counted rolled her dice. “We’re not you.”

“You wound me, Belova. I’m an honest player.”

Rhodey, observing from across the table, let out a chuckle. “Sure, Clint. And Bucky isn’t in love with—”

Bucky shot him a quick, almost panicked glance, cutting him off before Rhodey could finish. “Don’t even,” Bucky warned, his tone playfully threatening.

Love was a big word. He didn’t want it out there too soon, even if it might have some truth to it.

Rhodey just smirked, holding both hands up in self-defence. “Just saying.”

Sam, who was clearly in on the joke, leaned back in his chair with a wide grin. “Buck’s intense today,” he said, “He’s focused on winning.”

Yelena didn’t miss the exchange, her lips curling into a teasing smile as she flicked her gaze between you and Bucky. She quipped, “I’m sure that’s all he’s focused on.”

You looked up at Bucky, eyebrows raised in amusement.

Bucky swallowed but managed to keep his cool, even as a flush crept up his neck.

Scott, meanwhile, oblivious to the tension between the two of you, landed on Go to Jail for the third time. “Seriously?” he groaned, tossing his piece back to the corner of the board. “What is this, a conspiracy?”

“It’s because you’re Ant-Man,” Clint declared with a laugh. “Tiny jail bars for tiny man.”

Scott shook his head.

Across the table, Rhodey and Yelena were deep in a mini-battle over who owned the most railroads, with Yelena taking a slight edge. Bucky leaned closer to you as you studied your fingers dwindling your Monopoly money.

“You’re not giving up, are you?” Bucky murmured, his voice low, just enough for you to hear.

“Of course not,” You smirked. “But if I lose, I’m blaming you.”

“Fine,” he replied, his voice soft but playful, the air between you thickening slightly as your shoulders brushed each other.

Happy, sensing the moment, raised an eyebrow and nudged Sam. “Hey, you seeing this?”

Sam smirked knowingly but kept his voice low. “Oh, I see it. Bucky is doomed. She’s going to ask for all his money and he’s just going to give it to her.”

Yelena caught wind of the subtle teasing, he jabbed at Bucky’s side. “If you two are too busy flirting all night, just give me all your properties. I’ll make good use of them.” Her Russian accent somehow made monopoly sound threatening.

Bucky smiled, playing along. “You wish.”

As the night wore on, everyone’s guard dropped eventually, the game turning from serious competition to lighthearted chaos. Clint, true to form, dramatically complained about every property he landed on. Scott somehow managed to go bankrupt twice, first to Yelena, and after Rhodey gave him $500 out of pity, Happy wasted no time in bankrupting him a second time.

Sam kept the jokes going, all the while enjoying the not-so-subtle teasing at Bucky’s expense.

Finally, with Yelena sweeping up a victory, the game slowed down to a stop. She leaned back in her chair with a victorious grin. “Well, that was fun. Same time next week?”

Clint, looking exaggeratedly defeated, stared at the lack of monopoly bills in front of him. “I don’t know how she does it. She’s like a Monopoly assassin.”

Scott groaned. “I’ll never look at Baltic Avenue the same way again.”

Happy clapped his hands together. “Alright, alright. I think we can all agree—Yelena wins, Clint tries to cheat, and Scott’s never allowed to be the banker again,” He said, referring to Scott’s alleged miscalculations that lead to Happy’s bankruptcy.

Scott held up his hands defensively. “I did my best!”

Yelena called your name, stretching her arms above her head. “You made it through Monopoly without flipping the table, that’s impressive,” She said, then turned to Bucky. “You might want to lock her down.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, his face flushing slightly, while you laughed beside him.

You gathered your things to leave at the end of the night, but not before getting Rhodey, Clint, and Scott’s number to arrange an interview with them. Tonight was fun, but you also had some work to do. Besides, when you do interview them, it would be less nerve-wrecking, knowing that they’re just people, just like you. Knowing that they playfully throw tantrums over board games, just like you.

“Everyone loves you,” Sam told you with a certain satisfaction, knowing he helped set this up, “now what?”

Bucky felt heat rise to his face, shooting him a glare. You offered him a shy smile, clearly amused by the teasing.

"Actually," you said, facing Bucky, "I was hoping you'd walk me home?"

Bucky blinked, caught off guard for a moment. Then, he nodded, standing up and offering you a hand. “Yeah, of course.”

The group watched with knowing smirks as the two of you grabbed your things and headed out the door. Yelena called out behind you, “See you next game night!”

You waved back with a laugh and walked out into the night with Bucky by your side.

—

The streets were as quiet as you’d ever seen it, a soft breeze brushing through the rustling leaves. The two of you walked side by side, the comfortable silence settling.

“Your friends are… something else,” you said, glancing over at him with a smile.

Bucky chuckled. “Yeah, they’re a handful, but they really liked you.”

You looked up at him, your eyes warm. “Really?”

“Yeah,” He smiled softly, “They don't just give away their number to anybody. Not even for research purposes.”

Conversation was so easy between you two. It felt natural, as if you’d known each other for years instead of months. Bucky found himself relaxing in your presence for the first time in a long time, enjoying the sound of your laughter, the way you’d nudge him playfully every now and then.

When you reached your apartment building, you paused at the door, turning to face him. Bucky shifted, feeling the tension of the moment. It was that in-between space, where the night could either end or… continue.

“I guess this is me,” you said, a little reluctantly.

Bucky stepped closer.

“Do you want to come in?” you started, your voice soft. “We could have some tea?”

Bucky’s heart skipped. He nodded, trying not to sound too eager. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

—

The cosy warmth of your apartment wrapped around you both, soft lighting casting gentle shadows across the room. The faint hum of the city outside seemed far away, like it couldn’t touch this moment. You and Bucky had settled on the couch, close enough that your legs were just barely brushing, an invisible but undeniable connection building between you.

“You know,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence with a playful tone, “I didn’t expect Monopoly to get so intense. I might need a rematch, though. My strategy clearly needs some work.”

Bucky chuckled, his deep voice vibrating through the space between you. “We’ll work together next time.”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curling into an adorable smile that he loved so much. “So, it’s ‘we’ now, huh?” You asked.

He shrugged, the corner of his mouth lifting. “If you want it to be,” he said sheepishly.

Your heart gave a small, unexpected flutter. The playfulness between you felt easy, natural, and yet there was an intensity simmering beneath it. The tension that had been building since the game night was thick now, almost palpable.

Bucky’s gaze softened as he looked at you, the flicker of something more serious in his expression, catching you off guard. “You really had fun tonight?”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice a little quieter. “More than I thought I would.”

His hand moved slightly, just brushing against yours on the couch, his fingers tentative but warm. “I’m glad you did.”

“You have a good group around you,” you said, “Do you do this every week?”

He nodded, knowing he got lucky with his modern friendship. “We try,” he said, “In between missions and family life—” he was talking about Clint and Scott “—we try to keep in touch. Not everyone goes every week. Sam and Rhodey started game night a couple of months ago because Sam wanted to help me adjust to modern life and Rhodey wanted to cheer Happy up after losing Tony and May.”

“It looks like it helped.”

He nodded, thinking of how it made him feel like he belonged in this time. He had also seen how it helped Happy, remembering how he was barely smiling on the first night. Now, he looked forward to it. They all did.

You glanced down at his hand, feeling that pull between you again. The air seemed to thicken, the soft sounds of the city outside fading even more as the space between you felt smaller and smaller.

Bucky leaned in, his eyes never leaving yours. His face was only inches away now, his breath against yours. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, the scent of his cologne subtle but intoxicating. His lips started hovering close to yours, so close that you could almost feel them.

Just as he closed the final distance, you placed a hand gently on his chest, stopping him. His eyes flickered with surprise, but the amusement in your smile softened the moment.

“I don’t kiss on the first date,” you whispered. Your lips just brushed his cheek as you leaned in, placing a soft kiss there instead. The warmth of his skin sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt him exhale slowly, the tension releasing just a little.

Bucky’s eyes met yours again. His smile widened into something playful, maybe a tinge of disappointment, but not much. He let out a soft laugh, “you’re killing me here.”

You grinned, leaning back slightly, but still close enough that the spark between you lingered. “I might, on a second date…” you teased, your voice light but promising.

He nodded, his voice low and rough with affection. “Second date. I’ll hold you to that.”

The kettle whistled softly from the kitchen, breaking the moment with its quiet urgency. You rose from the couch, giving Bucky a playful glance over your shoulder. “Guess I should get that before it blows up.”

As you got up to go to the kitchen, Bucky watched you, the smile never leaving his face. There was something about you—your wit, your warmth, the way you made him feel at ease but kept him on his toes—that he couldn’t shake. Not that he wanted to.

When you returned with two cups of hot tea, the air between you had shifted slightly. The playfulness was still there, but now it was something more subtle, more meaningful. You handed him the cup, your fingers brushing his as you did.

“So,” you said, settling back beside him, “where should we go for that second date?”

Bucky smiled, taking a sip of the tea. “What about dinner? Just the two of us.”

You nodded, your heart skipping a beat at the thought of another evening like this, but maybe with a little less Monopoly and a little more… whatever this was.

“I’d like that,” you said softly, laying your hands on his.

The conversation flowed just as easily between you after that, the memory of the almost-kiss lingering in the back of both your minds, but not pressing. You knew it would happen— just not tonight.

Tonight was about laying the foundation. It was about building something steady, something that could last.

That you both wanted to last.

As the night ran its course, Bucky made his way to the door. He turned back to you, his eyes lingering on your lips, a quiet promise in his stare. “Next time,” he said, his voice a low rumble. He leaned down, and this time, he kissed your cheek, making heat rush to your face.

You smiled, leaning against the doorframe. “Next time.”

As Bucky disappeared into the night, you found yourself looking forward to the second date, to the moment when you’d let him kiss you.

You knew it would be worth the wait.

-to be continued…

Taglist : @quiet-loser @hzdhrtss @intelligenceofapineapple

Part 3 is out now!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x female reader #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x f!reader #Sebastian stan #Sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes one shot

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pathologicalreid · 8 months ago

Text

next of kin | S.R.

disaster strikes and you and Spencer try to take custody of your younger sister

part two

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: actually might be gn! but i'm too scared to say it is. death, orphan-ing, funerals, child custody issues, blood, general cm violence, like actually an abhorrent amount of death. sorry i killed your parents for the sake of my fanfiction can we still be friends? word count: 3.33k a/n: this is the fic that this post is about. i am in fact my own worst enemy. i hope y'all like it actually genuinely i am most definitely overthinking this. if your name is maya im sorry that sucks.

“What did your parents say?” Spencer asked, walking into the conference room that the local precinct had offered to you.

You had been staring blankly at your phone since you got off the call with your mother, “Uh, they said thanks, but no thanks.”

The uneasy feeling had settled in your stomach as soon as you found out the team was being called to your hometown, and you had been nauseous ever since you found out the UnSub’s pattern.

Married couples with an older child who had moved out and a younger child who was still at home.

Your little sister was a surprise, you had incorrectly assumed your parents were done having kids.

Until today, you wouldn’t have traded Maya for the world, but now you sat in fear of your family being targeted by a serial killer. Hotch had offered them a protective detail, but they declined. Self-righteous as they were, they told you it wouldn’t feel right for them to accept help that couldn’t be offered to everyone.

Clenching your jaw, you stood at the table, “I’ll go by later and check in on them.”

Spencer had met your family twice by now. Last Christmas he had tagged along to meet them and celebrate with your family before the two of you spent New Year’s with his mom. Then, while your sister was on Spring Break, they flew out to Virginia, and you and Spencer had shown your family around Quantico and the District.

Maya had loved Spencer, partially because you loved him, but mostly because of his magic tricks.

“Do you want me to go with you?” He asked, stepping up next to you and placing a hand on the small of your back.

You sighed and shook your head, “No, not if you’re needed here.” You reached up and cupped his cheek, smiling softly, “Thank you for offering, Spence.”

He nodded affirmatively, “If you change your mind,” he offered. Gently, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before the two of you returned to the rest of the team.

The fact that your parents lived only five minutes from the police station gave you some relief, but you still felt tightly wound. Everyone had noticed. You just needed this case to be over.

The porch lights were on when you got there, and you used your house key – which you had never taken off of your keychain - to open the front door. “Hey, kiddo,” your dad greeted from the couch. A peek into the kitchen showed you that your mom was wiping down the counters. It all felt so eerily normal.

It was dark by the time you had gotten there. Maya was already asleep, but you tip-toed into her room anyway and kissed her goodnight before going back downstairs. Once you had hugged both of your parents and told them you loved them, you made your way back to the police precinct.

By nearly three in the morning, there was no new information, and the team was starting to consider calling it a night until the police chief got a call.

“We just got a call. Lady reported shouts coming from her neighbor’s house at 86 Meadowbrook,” he informed you, putting his hands on his hips and looking around at the team.

None of them even spared him a returning glance, everyone’s eyes were on you.

Blinking rapidly, you nodded assuredly, “I have to go get Maya.” You didn’t even recognize your voice even as you said it. It couldn’t have been your voice. That was the rasp of someone far away from you.

All of the other voices around you were muffled, you couldn’t hear what people were telling you, let alone understand them.

Maya. Maya. Maya.

Brown eyes. There they were, right in front of your face. “Let’s go get her,” Spencer whispered.

You had been speaking out loud. Repeating your sister’s name like a prayer without even realizing it.

Hotch let you go with them, but he made it abundantly clear to you – and the rest of the team – that you weren’t working this case anymore.

Surrounded by reverent voices in an SUV, JJ drove while Spencer stayed in the back with you. He held your hand tightly in his.

The house was closed off with police tape. Bright yellow plastic fluttered in the wind as you watched your team and other emergency personnel enter and exit. At your insistence, Spencer went in to get Maya, it felt like it had been hours before he walked out, carrying her in his arms.

Carefully, he brought her to you, and you pulled her close to your chest, blocking her eyesight as two body bags were brought out of the house.

You didn’t hear anything after that. You just let yourself be moved to wherever you needed to be, holding your kid sister as she cried for your parents.

They had to take their bodies to the hospital even though they were already gone, and you needed to be the one to confirm their identities. Spencer stayed with Maya while you were busy. She had cried herself to the point of exhaustion, you were grateful that she was sleeping, and then you felt cruel.

By sunrise, she was still asleep, and you had been set up in that same conference room from earlier. Sitting across from you was a social worker, a representative of the state. Your lips had parted in shock as you looked at her, “What do you mean they denied my request?”

In an attempt to be helpful, JJ worked with you to file an emergency request for custody of Maya, and the case worker had just told you that the request was denied. “The state doesn’t believe your request is valid,” she told you.

Your mouth went dry, “I don’t…” you glanced over at your little sister. “Our parents were murdered last night, and they won’t let me take custody of my sister?” You asked indignantly, peering at the social worker. It wasn’t her fault, somewhere in your grief-ridden brain you knew that, but you couldn’t help the feeling that she was somehow your enemy.

“They don’t believe you can provide her with a stable living environment,” the social worker, Brittany, explained.

Narrowing your eyes, you responded, “A stable living environment like a foster home? I’m her sister. We’re family – the only family each other has left.” You stood up, excusing yourself for a moment before walking out of the precinct. Once you were outside, you promptly hurled into the bushes.

That was how he found you, to the side of the building with your hair haphazardly moved out of your face, dry heaving into the shrubbery. Gently, Spencer placed a hand on your back before starting to rub small circles on your back, “You should eat something, love.”

You just shook your head in response, you weren’t hungry. “They won’t let me take her,” you whispered morosely, straightening up, you kept your back facing him.

“What?” He asked, his hand abruptly stopping its movement on your back.

Taking a deep breath and sitting on the curb, you looked up at Spencer. “The state thinks I’m not stable enough to take her in,” you said, resting your chin in your hands.

Your boyfriend crouched down so that he could sit next to you, “Are you going to challenge it?”

“Of course I am,” you cried. “But what happens to her in the interim, Spence? She gets placed with whatever foster home here and I go back to Virginia? I see her when the family court resolves this in two years?”

Treading carefully, Spencer cleared his throat, “What are you going to do?”

Defeated, you shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m…” your voice trailed off. “My parents are dead, Spencer,” you murmured softly, tears welling in your eyes.

He reached out and wrapped his arms around you, “I know, darling. I know. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t think I can do this alone,” you whispered, leaning gently into him.

Spencer turned to kiss your temple, “It’s a good thing you’re not alone then. I’m not going anywhere.” He waited for a moment before continuing, “Give me something to do. Give me a job to take off of your shoulders.”

In the end, you let Spencer take over funeral planning. He thanked you for trusting him before the both of you went back into the precinct.

You had just hung up with a family lawyer who had offered to take your case, letting your phone drop to the floor, you let your arms hang at your side. Someone had taken Maya to get breakfast while you spoke with the lawyer.

At the sound of the phone falling to the floor, Spencer stepped into the conference room, letting the door click shut before him. “Hey, what did he say?”

Pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes, you took in a deep breath, “Um, he said he’d be willing to take the case if I could put together a case plan to present before the judge.”

Before that phone call, you didn’t know what a case plan was, you could’ve gone your whole life without knowing what a case plan was.

“I need a year-long plan for how I’m going to prepare to have Maya in my custody, but he said a year is the best he can do,” you said, staring blankly at the wall ahead of you. “A year?” You whispered aimlessly, “I’m not waiting a fucking year to take custody of her. I have to take her home, Spence. I have to.” It wasn’t your intention to snipe at him, but you felt like you couldn’t help yourself.

The events of the last twelve hours threatened to take you down, but you had to stay strong for Maya.

Taking a shaky breath, you looked up at Spencer, “Why is it that every time I convince myself that it’s going to be okay, I get tossed to the ground again?” You asked him.

Maybe because you weren’t fully convinced. Maybe it was because it had only been seven hours. You needed to remind yourself of that.

“She’s a ward of the state?” Spencer asked for clarification, holding you tightly.

Nodding absentmindedly, you rested your head on his shoulder as he swayed gently. “She can stay with me until after the funeral, and after that, she has to go with the social worker.”

The sad look on Spencer’s face told you that he was running out of ideas, and you were coming to the very same conclusion. “We could get married,” he offered.

“Stop, Spence,” you said, shaking your head. You couldn’t believe this was where he was going.

He shrugged helplessly, “I’m serious, Y/N. If we get married, they might think we’re stable, as a couple. They might give us custody.”

Your shoulders slumped, “I don’t want to get married just to get custody of my sister.” It certainly wasn’t that you didn’t want to marry Spencer, just not like this.

He nodded understandingly, “I know, but I’m just saying. If that’s what it takes, then I’ll do it.” Placing a comforting hand on your knee, the two of you sat in silence for a moment. “Do you have any ideas?” He asked you carefully.

Looking through the blinds of the conference room, you saw the rest of the team coming back to the precinct. Setting your jaw, you nodded, “I might.”

Opening the door, you had Maya go in with Spencer while you approached your Unit Chief. “Hey,” Hotch said, a glint of sympathy in his eyes. “How are you holding up?” He pulled you away from the people, wanting to give you privacy.

This wasn’t fair, they were still working on an active case. A case that was disturbingly close to you, and yet, you felt you were out of options. “I need a favor,” you blurted to him, wringing your hands. Your nervous energy made it impossible for you to stay still.

Hotch nodded, “What do you need?” He asked, studying your composure with the eye of a profiler.

You took a deep breath, “I was… I need you to call in a favor with someone. Anyone, really. The state won’t let me take custody of Maya, but I can’t let her become a ward of the state. Not when I’m right here, ready, willing, and able to take her.”

“Okay,” he responded, not even pausing to think about it.

Taken aback, you looked at him curiously, “I- that’s it? I had groveling prepared.”

He nodded almost imperceptibly as if he was trying to tell you it wasn’t necessary. “You’ve been a part of this team for years and not once have you ever asked for anything in return for everything you do for everyone else. This is the least I can do,” he told you.

You couldn’t help it. Overwhelmed, you tackled Hotch in a bear hug, “Thank you.” Your voice was low, “Thank you so much.”

Succinctly, Hotch hugged you back before you pulled away, “I’ll go make some calls.”

It was the smell.

The smell that you’d sensed countless times before on the job, the metallic tang of the blood. It should’ve been mostly dried by now – you supposed you were more susceptible to the scent, considering it was your parent’s blood, but it put you on high alert.

Emily had brought you by so that you could pack a bag for Maya, but you found yourself stuck on the landing. To one side, there was your childhood bedroom and Maya’s room. On the other side, there was your parent’s room.

“Y/N?” Emily called your name from downstairs, “Are you alright?”

No, you wanted to say, but you bit your tongue, scanning the house you had grown up in. “This doesn’t belong here,” you told her, glancing behind you as she made her way up the staircase.

You didn’t have gloves, so instead you pointed at the figurine that was resting on the bookshelves, a little bear facing in the direction of your parent’s bedroom door. “This is in the wrong spot?”

Nodding, your eyes followed the ceramic bear as Emily picked it up with a gloved hand. “It’s mine, it should be in my room,” you informed her. Your parents never changed anything about your childhood bedroom, not since you moved out. “It was like it was watching them,” you thought aloud.

“Do you think the UnSub did it?” She asked you gently, her voice was low but steady.

Blinking rapidly, you kept your eyes focused on the figurine, “Little Bear,” you murmured, “They called her Little Bear.”

Emily shook her head in confusion, dark hair swaying as her head moved. “Who was called Little Bear?”

Dropping the bag you had packed to the floor, you buried your face in your hands, “I should’ve seen it sooner.” The victimology, it all suddenly made sense to you. “When I was a kid, there was a family like mine. A brother who was in his twenties when his parents had another baby, a girl. They called her Little Bear.”

Realization dawned on Emily’s dark features, “Like this bear?”

You picked up the bag and started making your way back down the stairs. “Their mother made those figurines. The parents died in a fire two weeks ago – they left everything to the younger sister. It was all over the news. God, I should’ve figured it out sooner.”

“Hey,” Emily said sympathetically, “You had other things going on. None of this was your fault.” Her voice was stern, harsher than you’d ever heard her, as she pulled out her phone and called the team.

Your teammate drove, passing the police station on the way to drop you off. They left for the takedown, and you felt yourself floating into the precinct. Maya was waiting in the conference room for you, watching cartoons on someone’s laptop.

Kneeling in front of your little sister, you tapped the space bar, pausing the video. “Hey, kiddo,” you whispered, reaching over, and smoothing her hair away from her face. “How are you feeling?”

She had cried herself to sleep earlier, and you felt like you hadn’t been around enough. Maya sat up on the couch and rubbed her eyes, they were red, but not teary. “I miss mommy,” she told you, pouting slightly.

You nodded gently, moving to sit next to her before you pulled her into your lap. At six years old, she was all gangly limbs, just starting to grow into her own person. Just old enough to understand death, “I know, baby. I miss them too.”

“They wouldn’t lemme go home,” she continued, leaning her head on your shoulder. “I wanted Thumper,” she whined, sounding younger than she was.

Looking up at the light, you silently begged for your tears to go away. “I got him for you,” you told her, reaching into your bag and producing the small stuffed bunny that you had given her as a baby.

You savored the way her eyes lit up as she grabbed the stuffed animal from you.

“So, you and Thumper are gonna come to stay with me in Virginia. Do you remember going there? You said you liked it?” You kept smoothing her hair back as she held her toy.

She was silent for a moment, “Will Spencer be there?” She asked quietly.

Smiling slightly, you nodded, “He and I live together, so he’ll be there with us.” Slowly, you started rocking back and forth, trying to soothe the both of you simultaneously.

“As long as he doesn’t pull money out of my ear,” she answered succinctly, shutting her eyes as she leaned up against you.

There was approximately an hour before you watched the team return to the precinct, slowly, you laid Maya down on the couch before walking out. “It was a clean shoot,” you heard Rossi tell Morgan, and one look at the rest of them told you everything you needed to know.

The team went back to the hotel, and Spencer filled you in on the funeral arrangements he had made on your behalf. You were about to try to get some sleep when Hotch approached you and told you he needed to speak to you.

“I called a good friend of mine on your behalf, and he gave me some information. We were able to work out a plan,” he told you, sitting across from you in the hotel lobby.

You were about to tell him that a case plan wouldn’t work, but he held his hand out, telling you to wait.

He nodded before he kept going, “He was able to file an emergency request to grant you temporary custody of Maya, and it was granted.”

You felt sick to your stomach, “She’s mine?”

“Temporarily, you’ll have to take care of some formalities back in Virginia, but you have full custody of her,” he informed you. “You’re being granted family leave, and I’ve encouraged Reid to apply for it as well,” Hotch told you, reaching out and placing a hand on your shoulder. “I am… I’m sorry that you’ve had to go through this but thank you for coming to me when you needed the help.”

You nodded absentmindedly, your head still whirling with the information that you had just been given. Stumbling, you walked back to your hotel room that you were sharing with Spencer and Maya.

The funeral was planned, the custody issue was solved, all there was left to do was…

“Baby?” Spencer said softly as you swung open the door, “Everyone else took Maya to get ice cream, I figured it couldn’t-“ his voice broke off at your first sob.

Everything you had held in came bursting out, all of the grief and stress and exhaustion nearly knocked your legs out from underneath you.

But Spencer was there to catch you.

part two

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #written by margot #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #spencer reid hurt/comfort #criminal minds hurt/comfort

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intoanotherworld23 · 1 month ago

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Sweet As Peach Cobbler

Warnings: explicit sexual content, mature themes, overstimulation, fingering, oral sex, slightly dom Tyler, submissive reader, implied sex, praise kink, dirty talk

Summary: Tyler loves his desserts, and you just happen to be his favorite

A/N: Hey y’all it’s been quite a while since I’ve posted anything on here, but I’ve just been going through some personal stuff, and needed some time to myself. I am back though and ready now more than ever to keep writing for you guys! I wanted to dabble in writing for someone new, and since Glen Powell has become so popular I knew I had to write some things for him! Let me know if I should write some more for him, and if you would like to be added to the tag list! Don’t forget to comment and reblog it would be greatly appreciated! Love you guys thanks so much for being amazing! XOXO

Hall Of Hunks

Tag list for everything: @iam-laiya @rosie-posie08 @madzleigh01 @alwaysclassyeagle @mytbel0st @shanimallina87 @marvelstarker-mha98 @powellssugarbaby @lora21 @kmc1989

Feeling absolutely reduced to a hot and sweaty mess as you laid underneath Tyler. Who was staring at your disheveled face. A look of pride written across his face as your body trembled around him.

"I've never seen you cum so much sweetheart." Praising you as a hand covers your eyes in embarrassment. "You did so good for me baby."

That powerful and mind blowing release had you almost in tears. Trying with all your might not to just cry in front of him. Feeling like that might weird him out a little bit. Since he could take tears as being in pain or discomfort, and then he would stop, and you didn't want him to stop. Your body was feeling overwhelmed as it continued to shake underneath his fingertips.

"Let me see those pretty eyes of yours." His deep voice persuades you as your hands slowly moved away from your face to look up at his smirking one.

"Tyler." Whining his name as he snickers keeping his cock still absolutely still inside of you.

"Whadda you need pretty girl?" He teases feeling your cunt clenching around you making him groan.

Tyler knew exactly what you wanted, but was still too shy to say anything to him. He always helped you ease your way into expressing what you wanted with him. Giving you a little bit without asking him, and then getting you to finally speak up. Carefully pulling out from your raw cunt your body jolting at the sensitivity from the sudden loss of him. Feeling his cum ooze out of your body his hand massaging your inner thigh soothingly.

"Fuck me baby girl look at you." Watching as his liquid spilled out of you and trailed down between your cheeks. He was licking his lips wanting nothing more than to lick it all up, and taste how delicious you both were mixed. That's exactly what he did too.

His hot mouth attaching to your puffy and still wet cunt. Hands reaching out to grip onto his hair as his tongue flicked back and forth on your clit. Back arching off the bed as he slurped away, hands gripping your inner knees as he kept them pushed apart so he had full and complete access to you. Body feeling like it was on fire as he thrusted his thick tongue inside of you. Rotating your hips around to feel more as his nose brushed against your clit.

"Oh god." Crying out as your orgasm was already swiftly approaching still extremely sensitive from your previous release. Tyler looking up at your remarkable expression unable to look anywhere else. Loving that he was the one in control feeling like he held all the power in your pleasure, and it made him feel like a god.

Reaching a hand over to your pelvis as his thumb started to rub circles on your nub. Your senses heightened and overwhelmed not knowing how much longer you were gonna be able to last. Tyler could tell that you were fighting to keep going, and he knew what would help you reach the finish line.

"Tastes like peach cobbler baby girl." His low voice sends you over the edge as your body starts to crumble. Your ribcage rising and falling with each quick breath. Hands falling down to your side feeling loose and numb. Stomach trembling from the resounding orgasm you just experienced. Your battered cunt was so sore from being stretched and abused over and over again.

Tyler’s favorite dessert was in fact peach cobbler, and the fact he said you tasted like it made your head spin. It would make sense since he could never get enough of you.

Feeling a pair of soft lips gently caressing your thighs and inner knees a trail of saliva being left behind. Sex was always amazing with Tyler, but the one thing you loved just as much was the aftercare. His touch was always so gentle and comforting as he would help ease you through each orgasm.

"Fucked that pretty cunt so good, didn't I?" His crude language had your thighs twitch, and you loved it all the same. Tyler already knew the answer to the question, but he loved the reactions you would give him just for saying certain words.

"So proud of you my sweet peach." His nickname had you smiling as Tyler pulled you into his arms and laid you on top of his warm body. Listening to the sound of his heart beating, and the rise and fall of his chest was easing you into a slumber like state. "Oh I’m not done with you yet sweets."

#tyler owens smut #Tyler Owens x reader #Tyler Owens imagines #glen powell smut #Glen Powell x reader #Glen Powell imagines #Tyler Owens #Glen Powell #Tyler Owens fanfic #Glen Powell fanfic #twisters #twisters smut #twisters Tyler Owens

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httpscomexe · 2 months ago

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Double Trouble

Day 1 of Kink-Tober - Double Penetration

Summary: You never listen on missions, and you’re not too sure that the punishment from your two best friends would change that at all.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Stucky x Reader

Warnings: Arson, violence, fire, language, pv smut, fingering, oral, kind of non-con, forced sex if you squint, double pen (Lmk if I missed any)

Tags: @cellyx33

Word Count: (Find my Kink-Tober list here) 2769

P.S. If you would like to be added to the Kink-Tober tag list, just let me know.

“Investigators are still unsure of what has caused this explosion, but the accident is leading to an arsenic attack. There are no known motives leading to the fire, which officials believe was more of an attack with intended murder.

Only one body was found in the fire, a sixty-three year old man. After a quick look up, the police force discovered he was wanted for tax evasion along with seven other crimes that are punishable by death, including human trafficking, and other triggering activities.

The man went by the name “Firehouse,” ironic considering the situation, and his government issued name has been identified as “Donald Pastry Newsont.” If anyone has any information involving the situation, please call…”

“This shits annoying.” Bucky grumbles, reaching over to turn off the radio.

“Hey I was gonna call that number!” You joke in the back seat, sliding the thick fireproof pants off of your waist and onto the floor.

“Very funny, Y/N.” Steve, the driver, keeps his eyes on the road, but you occasionally see his eyes move to the mirror facing the middle backseat where you were.

“What? I have information on it.”

“We weren’t supposed to cause an explosion.” Bucky rubs circles on his temples. Annoyed by you. Yea. You weren’t supposed to blow up the house, but you couldn’t help it.

“I know that, but it was an accident.”

“You are literally wearing an entire fucking fireproof outfit.” Steve slams his hand on the wheel, a little more aggressively than he means to.

“Language Stevie.” You mumble, taking off the jacket part of your outfit.

“Can’t you take that off when we get to the damned hotel?”

“It’s like super hot.” You complain to Bucky, throwing the last of the articles of clothing on the floor before removing the long piece of ribbon from your ponytail that was holding your hair together, which you tie around your wrist. “Y’all are just jealous you don’t have fireproof gear.” You taunt, leaning forward as you rest your arms on the shoulders of their chairs.

“We ALL have fireproof suits. And we would’ve brought them if we knew you were going to start a fucking fire.” Bucky turns around, his face inches from yours.

“Oh come on. It was cool.”

“Yea, it was totally so cool when you zipped up your outfit before throwing the match on the ground and I barely had two seconds before the shit blew up to put my shield in front of me.” He turns the car, taking a right onto a one way street.

“Sorry, I just-”

“No.” Bucky cuts in, facing you again. His look is serious. You knew he didn’t like you disobeying what they tell you for missions this important. But this time they were both angry. Normally, it would just be Bucky, or just Steve. So you know you fucked up.

“You two bring up the bags, I’ll get the key.” Steve nods towards you and Bucky after putting the car in park. “And let's actually follow orders this time. Okay?” He asks, sarcastically.

You nod, getting out of the car with an annoyance in your step as you cover your body with crossed arms. The uniform you were wearing was more like lingerie. Normally it wouldn’t bother you around the two people you feel most comfortable with, but when they are mad, it only makes you feel uncomfortable in your own skin. So you follow behind Bucky, carrying your own bag of clothes while he carries his own and Steves, the elevator ride uncomfortably silent as Steve gets the key to the room. Leaving you alone with Bucky as you both stand at the door to the room. Not a single word to be spoken.

You look up at him, his eyes focused on the screen of his phone as his thumb scrolls along the device, little images moving through his blue eyes tells you he’s scrolling through someone's Instagram profile. You look down at his left hand, his metal thumb hooked into the pocket of his jeans as he stands there, staring at his phone, a pissed look still visible on his face.

Then you hear footsteps, causing both of you to turn your head to also pissed off Steve Rogers, the room key between his index and middle finger.

“A little quiet. Are you guys suddenly mortal enemies?” He jokes, scanning the key on the hotel door before holding the door open for you and Bucky.

“Why talk to her when she doesn’t even listen?” Bucky asks, rhetorically. Then he throws the bags of clothes down, crouching over to take out some clothes. “Who wants to shower first?”

“Doesn’t matter to me.”

“Let her shower first. She was wearing that thick suit. I'm sure enough she smells like shit.” Steve crouches next to Bucky, also grabbing his clothes.

You open the door to the bedroom, taking one step in before stopping and looking down at the two best friends. “Hey, who’s sleeping where?”

“There’s two beds. You get one bed, we share the other-”

“There’s only one bed.” You interrupt Steve, his eyebrows squinting in confusion. “There should be two, are you sure?”

“Well unless I’m blind or forgot how to count, yes, I’m sure.” He stands up with Bucky, both of them looking into the room. One king sized bed.

“Well shit. I’ll go down to the office.” Bucky tells you both, then leaves without another word.

“If they can’t get a two bedroom for us then you and Bucky take the bed. The couch will be too small for you both.” You offer.

“The bed will be uncomfortable for you.”

“I’ve slept on the floors.”

“Correction. You’ve tried to sleep on the floors.” He looks down at you, your arms crossing over your stomach in a sort of challenge. “Fine. We can take the bed if he can’t find another room.” He sighs, walking back over to his bags on the floor. “Go ahead and start your shower though.” He groans as he throws himself onto the couch and stretches as you head to the bathroom, setting the water warm before getting undressed and stepping into the shower. The water falling mutes the sound of Bucky coming back in. You couldn’t understand a word he said, but he sounded annoyed. So you assume there isn’t another room.

When you’re done, you step out. The smell of your lavender shampoo and bodywash filling the air as you wrap a towel around your hair and dry your body before dressing into your short Captain America pyjamas and your thin black top with a red star on the chest, not wanting to throw on a bra or panties, you step out and put the two back in your bag on the floor, missing the looks that Bucky and Steve give you, also missing the look and nod they give each other.

“Hey, Y/N.” You look up to Steve's voice. “I don’t want to report your actions.” He stands from the couch and walks over to you until you have to bend your neck to look up at him. “I don’t like you getting in trouble for disobeying simple orders. But you have to be punished in some way.”

“Please don’t report it…” You beg a little, Bucky moving up behind Steve as they stand shoulder to shoulder. “Another report and I’m back to being a desk agent.” You whine a little.

“Which would really suck, wouldn’t it?” Bucky's eyes stare straight into yours, some hidden darkness concealed behind his pupil, you nod urgently.

“Then how should you learn your lesson?” Steve takes another step closer, his hand reaching up to push some hair behind your ear. “You have to learn somehow.”

“You need to be punished, Y/N.” Bucky whispers harshly, his left hand resting on your waist suddenly as your hands move to your stomach, the entire interaction making you nervous as you start to pick at your skin.

“I feel like you’re both implying the same thing right now…” Your voice is quiet, any louder and it would crack. “But I uh… Want conformation on what exactly-”

“I think the three of us should all share the bed, what do you think?”

You’re silent for a moment.

Your jaw clenching shut as his words shock you slightly, emitting a chuckle from Steve's throat. “What’s wrong baby, cat got your tongue?” You practically feel your eyes enlarge at his nickname.

Baby…

“Steve I don’t-”

“Enough talking. Get on the bed.” Bucky demands, his eyes leaving no room for argument as Steve begins walking you backwards until the back of your knees find the bed, Bucky gently pushing you to sit down before they both begin removing their shirts, and you scoot back a little. Debating whether or not you want this, your thighs clamped shut.

“Top or bottom?” Steve asks Bucky, nodding towards him.

“Top. You get the bottom.” He tells him, undoing his pants in front of you as Bucky already has his unzipped and unbuttoned, the tent in his boxers obvious as he crawls onto the bed, pulling you into his lap, facing away from him and you watch Steve get onto the bed. Sitting on his knees in front of you.

“Open up.” He tells you, gently slapping the side of your thigh before reaching forward and hooking his fingers through your shorts, quickly pulling them off. You immediately squeeze your thighs tighter. Wishing you could lock them shut. You try to speak, but your lips are locked in place of your thighs. “I said open the fuck up.” He demands this time, his large hands placed on both thighs, gripping your flesh carefully.

“Steve I don’t want-” Your voice cracks as he shuts you up with his own words.

“Shut up.” He grumbles, then forces your thighs open, a gasp coming from your lips as you feel the cold air against your heat. “Such a pretty pussy…”

He leans down, and only then do you realise Bucky has his arms around your stomach, keeping you still as he leans forward, kissing and biting the skin on your neck.

You moan, the feeling of Steve's beard against your sensitive flesh making your eyes roll as his tongue and teeth work diligently, two of his fingers eventually finding their way inside of you in place of his tongue when he begins to thrust his digits against your walls.

“Good girl…” Bucky whispers into your ear, biting your lobe before resuming his marks on your throat, one of his hands snaking down to find your clit, and he begins to rub circles around the bud, your eyes only enlarging.

You want to say something. To push them away. But you feel numb, like their touch was a drug that paralyzed you from head to toe, apart from the rocking of your hips as you seek more of Steve's touch, the feelings of both of their touch sending waves of pleasure through your body.

“S-Steve…” You moan, his face still buried in your cunt as he eats you out, his fingers curling to massage your g-spot, a hum from his throat sending vibrations through your body. “Bucky…” You whimper, and Barnes’ teeth bite your skin harder, his fingers massaging your clit. The feelings driving you crazy… “Feels… so good…” You whisper, trying not to moan too loudly.

“Come for us baby… Let Steve taste your sweet pussy…” Bucky's voice soothes your thoughts as he brings his two fingers up, sticking them between your lips as he lets you purse your lips around his digits, tasting yourself on his skin was just another reason to throw your head back against his shoulder, his lips moving down to bite your neck as you come, Steves hands gripping your thighs tighter as he feels your gummy walls clench around his own fingers, your juices coating his beard as he lets you ride out your orgasm.

“Good fucking girl…” Steve groans, sitting back up on his knees, keeping your legs apart as he slaps your pussy, drawing another moan from your lips before you feel Bucky's hands move between your bodies, then his dick is against your ass, making your back involuntarily arch away, but then your eyes land on Steve's cock, which was also removed from his boxers while you were looking away.

Boy did that serum do something for him. His size was unrealistic. There was no way he would be able to fit that thing inside of you. Ever.

“Look at her. Panting like a fucking dog and we haven’t even fucked her yet.” You feel Bucky's hand come up and close your mouth, his fingers resting under your jaw before he presses a kiss to your cheek. “So fucking hot…” He mumbles, then he grips your waist, pulling you back as he leans back. You were sure enough he was just as big as Steve. “You ready?” He asks, lifting you slightly to position you over his cock, Steve staring with a shit eating grin.

You don’t even answer, but he slowly lowers you down, the intrusion making you bite your lip, your eyes rolling in pleasure as Steve situates himself between your legs, leaning forward to press kisses to your throat, his thumb rubbing your clit as the feeling becomes unbearable. You’ve never done anything like this before.

Fuck.

You’ve never done anything.

“Take a deep breath…” Steve tells you. “This might hurt…” He warns, attempting to push two of his fingers inside of you, but of course, they don’t fit. Bucky’s cock already stretching you to the limit. “Fuck… So tight.” He groans, then forces the two fingers inside of you, making your hips jerk, a yelp coming from your lips which is quickly silenced by Bucky’s hand covering your throat as Steves fingers slowly move in and out of you, eventually adding a third finger as he stretches you open, Bucky’s soft lips on your neck distracting you as Steve moves closer, his free hand moving to stroke his shaft.

“Breathe for me baby…” He whispers again, this time his breath fanning over your skin as he positions himself between your legs, his hand between your bodies as he aligns the tip of his dick with your filled centre. “Just breathe…” He tells you one more time, then he slowly pushes forward, barely getting in the tip before the mix of a moan and scream come muffled behind Bucky’s palm, but Steve doesn’t stop. He keeps pushing. And he pushes until he can’t anymore.

“Told you she could fit us both.” Bucky mumbles, and Steve begins to slowly move. Your sounds are still muffled by the hand over your mouth, which quickly turns from painful moans to pleasurable crying. “And she’s behaving so well…” He groans, the feeling of Steve's cock moving against his driving him crazy.

Steve moves faster, his hands squeezing your thighs, and their groans indicate they’re both holding back. Steve's rough touch, and Bucky’s biting and kissing your skin as your moans fill the room. Loud enough you’re surprised no one else could hear.

“So fucking perfect…”

“Such a perfect little pussy…”

“Love the little sounds she makes…”

“Isn’t she perfect?”

All fall on your deft ears, your brain ringing, your eyes trying to close as your energy leaves your body. You couldn’t think about anything.

The lips of Bucky on your skin and the feeling of Stevies cock moving inside of you, along with the feeling of Bucky’s cock being right beside his was enough to make your pupils turn your eyes black, the moans stopping and your body convulsing under Steve and above Bucky as you’re about to come again. It was the fifth time this night, or maybe sixth? You didn’t know anymore, you’d lost track of them after the second.

When they are done, Steve pulls out first, followed by Bucky, both of them watching as a string of cum drops from your stretched hole, Steve's fingers moving to gently push it back inside of you before cleaning his fingers with your lips.

“You did so good…” He tells you, but you hardly hear it as your body struggles to stay awake.

“She did amazing…” Bucky tells him from behind as his fingers begin to gently massage your thighs. “So good we don’t have to report her…”

“You look tired…” Steve gently pushes some of the mess of your hair behind your ear. An act that was innocent before but now felt like it would always be hidden behind some dark intent. “Too bad we aren’t done…”

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