#there are some things you realise about yourself and you look at it and just sigh in disappointment

[strwberri-milk]

heyyy, could i request lads men forgetting readers birthday or anniversary? hurt comfort pls 🥹

You understand that Zayne's job is incredibly important and you would never hold it against him for forgetting these dates but you also know that you're still going to feel hurt no matter how much you rationalise it. You woke up that morning, knowing that today should have been a special day, that he remembered to book it off months in advance and the two of you would be together.

When you see him getting ready for work you feel your heart drop, watching silently as he puts together his lunch and grabs his things. He doesn't notice you're up, thinking that you're still asleep and you take that opportunity to run back into bed and feign sleep again. You'd feel awful if you let Zayne go to work worrying about missing something this important so you decide it'd be kinder to just let him go to work in peace.

It's not until he looks at his schedule after a complicated surgery right from the moment he got into work that he realises what day it is today. He feels awful about it, immediately trying to figure out what surgeries he could offload onto the others so he can try and get home to you as soon as possible. Thankfully, all the other staff are emphatic about his situation, assisting him in getting home as soon as he can.

Thankfully, he's usually prepared in advance when it comes to gifts so he doesn't have to buy you anything last minute. He does make it a point to go and grab you a bouquet as well as some little treats/snacks of all your favourite things. When he comes home he finds you curled up in bed, trying to cheer yourself up. He hates how he made you feel and silently slides in behind you, holding you tightly as he whispers that he's sorry for forgetting about you. He promises that he'll make it up to you another night when the two of you are free, promising an evening at a restaurant you love while he currently placates you with the food and flowers he brought.

Xavier was so exhausted that he accidentally slept through the plans that the two of you made. You didn't even know it happened until you reappeared from the bedroom, watching him sleep peacefully on the bed. You can't bring yourself to wake him, sighing as you move to tuck him in.

He wakes up in the middle of the night, sitting up with a jolt as he realises that he missed your date. He rushes to bed only to find you dead asleep, dried tear tracks on your face. The sight breaks his heart, and he immediately starts making plans to try and fix his mistake.

When you come home one evening you're a little panicked because you can't see anything. You reach around blindly, trying to find a light switch to turn on some light in the pitch black darkness. confused when you realise you can't move the switch. You're about to call for Xavier when he makes his presence known beside you, putting a hand on your shoulder and guiding you to the living room. You're expecting to run into your coffee table but you're confused when you don't, kneeling on the ground as he counts down after covering your eyes.

You hear the click of a button and he uncovers your eyes, showing you the room illuminated by seemingly hundreds of little stars. You look around in surprise by the assortment of fairy lights and stars, a little surprised as you realise you're also sat in front of a meal comprised of your favourite takeout.

He gives you a heartfelt apology, promising that he didn't do it on purpose and he's felt awful about it the entire time. He promises that he'll clean all of this up after the two of you are finished. He doesn't want you to take on any of the stress about this at all, pampering you in extra gifts as an additional apology.

Rafayel is amazing whenever it comes to remembering important dates. His life revolves around you so that's why you find it so odd that the day comes and goes with absolutely no fanfare. It's so out of character that you literally gaslight yourself into thinking that you had the dates mixed up, mentioning it to him offhandedly how it's so weird that you thought yesterday was your anniversary but maybe it actually wasn't. Your birthday is an entirely different scenario though - you just tell him that it's okay if he's too busy to do anything and hopefully you can do something next year.

Rafayel is devastated, internally falling to his knees and sobbing while externally all you see is him humming thoughtfully. Internally he's trying to figure out what the hell happened for him to have dropped the ball. He's so panicking, pulling out his phone to book reservations at the fanciest restaurant he can think of and paying an exorbitant amount of money to do so. He also has so many gifts for you that at this point, he could just pull from a pile he has hidden in his home, telling you that you can have this for now because the main event is coming at your dinner reservation.

It doesn't take you long for you to realise that he actually kinda did fuck up and totally forgot about it when you hear him talking to Thomas about how he can't take on any projects at all because he's busy trying to make sure you don't hate him for forgetting a major event. You end up asking him about it right then and there, basically confronting him about why he forgot. He promises you it wasn't intentional and that he just had so much fun preparing for the even that he fully forgot to actually carry through with his plans.

He ends up making it up to you in bed. You mope and pout and bury yourself underneath the luxurious sheets and refuses to let him in. He basically just lays on top of you, burying his face into your neck and begging for forgiveness. You refuse to give it to him that easily, deciding to make him mope and pout more. He holds you tightly, continuing to whisper sweet nothings as he tells you he'll make it up to you by giving you his credit card. You jokingly tell him that's more than enough before getting serious and telling him how upset you are. He swears it won't happen again and to his credit, it never does.

Sylus couldn't get out of a previous commitment, mentally noting that it was a special day and aiming to follow through with absolutely no problem. Unfortunately, his meeting dragged and by the time it finished he had even more things to do which left you standing in his bedroom, dressed extravagantly for a missed reservation.

You cry to yourself quietly in the room as you get yourself undressed for the evening. It doesn't really hit you until you're laying in bed in your pajamas, staring up at the ceiling as you tell yourself that he didn't mean to do it on purpose.

He comes in as you're crying, listening to your soft sniffles. When you go quiet in hopes of attempting to convince him you weren't just sobbing your eyes out he feels even worse, quickly putting two and two together. He realises what he just missed, looking back at his phone and seeing the reservation cancellation.

He immediately scoops you up in his arms. You try to resist him at first but falter when your body settles into his familiar warmth. He coos at you, whispering apologies into your ear. You want to tell him too little too late but you also know that he never would want to see you crying like this, especially not because of him.

He holds you all night, telling you that you can ask him for anything and he'll make it happen for you. He already does but the guilt of this weighs on him so heavily that he knows that no matter what stands in his way, he won't let it stop him from giving you everything that you want. He also makes sure that it doesn't happen again, wanting you to feel like you could always trust him. If he lost your trust on top of that he'd never forgive himself, telling you that you're everything to him.

[finelinevogue]

safe with me

summary - you say 'yes' to being intimate with azriel when you really mean ‘no', because your past relationship taught you that saying 'yes' is the only answer

word count - 1.2k

pairing - azriel x mate!reader

[ reference to past abusive relationship - read with care 🤎 ]

It was the dark of night.

Everyone was in bed except you and Azriel, because you'd both lost track of time staying up and talking about everything and nothing. It was a habit you were both readily guilty of. Neither of you cared, though, when your conversations only made the bond stronger.

Azriel held the bedroom door open for you as you walked through first.

"Do you have training in the morning?" You asked him, walking over to your side of the bed.

You picked up the small tin of body cream there, scooping some up so you could apply it to your hands. It smelt of roses and reminded you of the endless walks through the garden you'd had with Azriel over the years.

"I do, yes. Cassian wants to show the priestesses some new defence techniques. He asked me to help him demonstrate."

Azriel locked the bedroom door and rounded the opposite side of the bed to you - his side, you both now called it.

You watched intensely as he lifted his black shirt over his head.

His muscles stretched and rippled as his body moved. His arms lengthened and the veins popped as he lifted his hands above his head.

You swallowed your desire as you admired him.

Due to Azriel's slight compulsive tendencies, he couldn't just throw his shirt on the floor. Instead, he neatly folded it and placed it on the dressing table.

You don't know what was more attractive; Azriel stripping down or Azirel being neat and tidy.

"It's rude to stare, you know?" He teased you as he came back to bed, lifting the covers to slip underneath.

"I wasn't staring." You blushed.

"Tell that to your cheeks."

You smiled to yourself as you stood up to untuck the covers on your side of the bed, before slipping in beside your mate.

The moment you were laid down Azriel attacked you with a flurry of kisses - probably the sweetest type of attack you could endure.

His lips kissed your cheeks repeatedly, making you laugh out loud from the suddenness of it all. You tried to move away and turn a cheek, but he was too insistent on loving you to notice.

He did notice, however, when your laugh started to fade away as he continued to kiss from your cheek to your neck.

Your mind was spinning a million miles an hour, trying to figure out how you were feeling and if you wanted this innocent kissing to turn into something more intimate. The fact that you were hesitating was enough for you to mentally agree that you didn't want to do anything this evening, but conveying that to your mate was an entire different thing.

"Okay?" He asked, slowly kissing over the sweet spot on your neck that normally got you going.

Unfortunately your mind was being cruel.

Instead of being here and in the room with Az, you had been transported back to the same situation with an ex-male of yours. He had initiated an evening much like Azriel was doing, but he knew you weren't particularly feeling it. Instead of accepting your answer of 'no', he had convinced you that you were "just confused" and "this is something you actually want" and to "just say yes".

You hadn't wanted to say yes at all.

But your ex had been so good at manipulating you that he had eventually gotten what he wanted without making it seem non-consensual.

Azriel, being ever so perceptive, could tell you were caving in on yourself, as well as feeling your heartbeat quicken and his shadows picked up on your hesitance and nervous energy. All of it together sent Azriel major red alarms.

"Hey, sweetheart, hey?"

Azriel's face was hovering above yours now, nowhere near your neck but you hadn't even realised he had moved away.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

You looked in his eyes and saw their concern. You didn't want to worry him. This is something that Azriel wants and that should be enough, right?

"Mhm."

You couldn't convince yourself to say the word 'yes' out loud. You couldn't do that to yourself again.

Azriel's hand cupped your cheek so softly you thought you were made out of porcelain. He looked through you before he spoke - his shadows enclosing around you so that you could just focus on each other and nothing else.

"Sweetheart, you're allowed to say no. You know that."

You blinked a few times as if that would help register what he'd just said.

"But..." You stuttered, "But you want to."

Azriel furrowed his eyebrows and tried to keep himself calm. If it weren't for needing to reassure and comfort you right now, he would very quickly dress in his battle armour and take out every male who had ever wrongly taught you about consent.

How someone could let themselves not take care of you if you weren't feeling up to being intimate is beyond his comprension.

Azriel shook his head, gritting his teeth. "That's not how it works with me."

Your eyes started to water as they were opened to understanding what true consent feels like and should be. Azriel was doing the absolute bare minimum in this situation and yet it felt like the most monumental thing to have happened.

"It’s just... When I was with... him, it didn’t matter if I wanted to or not. What he wanted was all that mattered. And I-I guess I just learned to go along with it."

"Well that stops right now." Azriel said, "That's not how we're going to do things, okay? How you feel is more important to me than getting off. Mother above, how does someone even get off if the other person isn't feeling it? Sweetheart, if you’re not sure, then we stop. Always."

A little teardrop fell onto your cheek, but you couldn't help but smile with how loved and protected you felt right now.

You could tell that Azriel was absolutely heartbroken to hear about your past relationships, but he would be damned if he didn't change the wrongs of your thinking. Knowing that your comfort is his priority filled your heart with joy, because it meant that you were safe with him. Safe with your mate.

“I didn’t realise how scared I was to tell you no. I was so sure it would make you angry, or-or disappointed.”

Azriel shook his head again, “The only thing that would ever disappoint me is you thinking you have to hide how you feel. You’re safe with me. I promise."

You nodded in agreement because you did believe him.

You could feel his trust and his assuredness within the bond.

"Can we just cuddle?" You asked shyly.

"Of course we can." Azriel smiled, kissing your forehead for good measure. "Only after I kill your ex..."

You didn't think he was being serious until he started to get up off you and shuffle out of bed. Laughing, you tugged on his arm and because he wasn't expecting it he landed with an oomph on top of you.

"You'll do no such thing."

"We'll see about that." He scoffed, trying again.

"See about it in the morning?" You counter offered, knowing there was nothing you could do to stop him from defending your honour - overprotective mate.

"Fine." He flopped back down on the bed and made room for you to cosy in next to him.

His wings finally wrapped around you, ensuring your safety as the both of you drifted off to sleep, the weight of your confession making it easier to sleep at night. All the while, Azriel stayed up planning his vengeance.

[zoieru]

thoughts about parts of hsr men's bodies, and how they react to your attention on them (mostly cute, not quite nsfw)

Just sum thots I wanted to get down n share, perchance with some like-minded individualss. I sort of yap when I write, not written in perfect grammar or prose. Maybe spoilers for 3.0. no gender, not nsfw, but suggestions splatted about ♡

Aventurine, Sunday, Phainon, Mydei

Aventurine

His hands, fingers, the whole lot. They're so dextrous and slender and nimble, probably from playfully flicking chips between his fingers as a taunt to those at the table. The way the chips twirl between them effortlessly has you often watching in a momentary trance. You sort of chide yourself internally when your thoughts start to drift at how they move, how *able* they are, and the implications of such...

You know he pays a lot of attention to his appearance, so his nails are always seemingly perfect, softly rounded at the edges, clean. It's to an extent that seems kind of impossible, as you find yourself captivated by them when you play with his fingers as you sit together. They're just...pretty. "You got a thing for hands, or is it just me?" He teases, a little smirk tickling the edge of his lips as his eyes glint with that familiar spark of mischief. He's always playing it off, of course, but he can't deny the little flutter he feels in his chest when you kinda admire him like that. There's something different about the way you do it, makes him feel special and wanted. Which the boy deserves in bounds.

Plus he looooves touching you with them. He's just a sort of handsy person, but in a cheeky-reverent kind of way, especially once he notices your attention on them. He'll fiddle purposefully, that frustrating smirk on his mouth, he'll run his fingers over your skin gently, pinching and squeezing here and there, and trace your bottom lip with his thumb when he's got you a bit flustered.

Sunday

For Sunday my first thought was his head-wings, of course, but that would be boring since everyone talks about the way the lil things flutter and fluff up, so we're going for his hair.

Now, Sunday obviously paid attention to his appearance as the Bronze Melodia, and all of his positions. He had to look the part, after all, and his tendency for control seeped into this aspect of his life too. But I like to think he never really saw his hair as anything but a sort of tool, something on him to be viewed and consumed by other people, just as a lot of his life was. (Thinking about Sunday makes me so sad aaa). He looked after it, liked it, but didn't see the utility or pleasure of it outside of that use much.

But when he fell with broken wings, and ended up in the strangely soft and uncomfy-comfy laps of the astral express crew, and others, like you, he, along with other things, started to realise the pleasure and softness that could come from his hair. For instance, along with his wings, if you touch his hair, he's a goner. He's just so...sensitive, and it sends little shivers down his whole body, to where he's almost made docile and incoherent. His brain short circuits a little and he becomes like when you touch a shark on that part of their body where they just become all floppy.

He doesn't even have the energy to be self conscious about it much when you're lacing your fingers through the grey strands, and if he does he'll blush a bit, cutely, and avert his eyes almost grumpily as he just shifts in your lap so his face doesn't have to meet your gaze. Plus, he finds it's one of the only time his yappy brain quiets a little, the sensations like a soothing silk wrapping around the thoughts and making them a bit less intrusive. Basically he's cute as hell, it hurts my soul.

Phainon

Okay, so, I'm gonna go with the expected here but HEAR ME OUT. His eyes are so expressive, even ignoring how intensely blue they are to the point it feels as though a droplet of the sky had just plopped into their depths one day and decided to take up residence hello Satoru ♡.

They're always moving slightly, narrowing a touch when thinking along with that slight pout of his mouth, widening with a gentle spark when he gets an idea or sees something he finds cool (imagine him like...seeing a stupid meme and showing mydei, and mydei just like -_-). When his face lights up, eyes catching that spark of excitement, it's just so sweet and beautiful. You find yourself desperate to keep seeing that light flicker in his eyes, finding things that make him light up.

Then there's when they soften. Usually when he's looking at you. Or mydei stop. He'll be talking or into something and then turn to look at you half way through, his eyes instantly softening ever so slightly. It's enough to make your heart flutter, just that. It's pathetic really, but that's what this puppy will do to you.

If you ever comment on them he'll chuckle a little, maybe bring his hand to his nape, the classic, looking around like 'really? hehe'. He takes the compliment and thinks about it a bit during the day at intervals, feeling warmer inside.

ALSO WHEN HE TILTS HIS HEAD SUBTLY WHEN CONFUSED LIKE A PUPPY OKAY BYE

Mydei

Mydei is hard because (get your mind out of the gutter) I feel like he would be so enthralled and slightly confused by all of your touch, since he hasn't felt much soft and tender affection in his whole damn life. So let's go with his skin, namely, tracing soft and idle patterns on it, anywhere really.

I'm picturing it starting with like...you just idly drawing circles or swirls on his arm or hand while you're relaxing, maybe before sleeping, just at some point. It didn't even really cross your mind that you were doing it, it was just natural. But this man had his eyes locked onto your fingers as they moved, eyeing the movements and taking note of the sensations almost with suspicion, like -what the hell is this and why do I like it-. Basically bro is shook, it's cute.

You'll catch him staring and be like ?? And he'll get a touch embarrassed, try to play it off a bit, grunt and look away a little, but after a bit he'll admit it feels kinda nice and you couldddd do it more if you wanted to. He wouldn't mind. Yknow. And he'll end up enjoying it a lot, anywhere you do it, letting you trace his skin more purposefully, the muscles rippling underneath it, his tattoos. He finds his muscles relax under your touch as if you're weaving some of Aglaea's golden thread over them, soothing them more than he's really felt before. And he'll give you a bit of a grumpy cat face when you stop, like...excuse me what? Keep going???

Anyway kinda thinking about doing more now but like, their reactions to each of these things individually, like playing with their hair or hands. Brainrot. Anyway make sure u ate something today or I'll haunt your dreams bye.

[ippipo]

self aware caleb

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | slight smut chapter

it's been around a month now.

you come back home from a long day and open the game immediately, wanting to talk to your now self aware.....friend? what is he? whatever. to caleb.

"hey, y/n," he greets you blankly. something about him seemed off though, a little speck of anger looming over his face. "what's wrong? you look annoyed," you point out.

"the storyline just doesn't make sense! why did they make me so weird and creepy?" he whines, making you laugh. "i found you a little hot because of it but yeah, you were......well," you scratch your nape with an apologetic smile.

"you need some help if you find that hot," he states making you snort. "say, why'd you pick this game?" he asks you.

"just wanted to feel less lonely and now i gush over five hot guys," you respond with a little shame in your tone. "pick one," he demands scrutinizingly.

"hmm..." you pretend to think for a while just to tease him. your amusement increases when his frown deepens. "definitely not you," you answer, the playful tone giving it away. he flicks the screen to show you his disappointment. "such a big liar."

you talked to caleb all night, letting the conversation lead its way to random topics. it was easy and comfortable, not having to restrict or conform yourself to fit into a mold of norms.

"gee, your fingers are so long," you remark absentmindedly. "yeah, you would get a first-hand experience if you were here," he says with a smug smile while remembering that one time he heard you doing.....things, trying to elicit a reaction out of you. "huh?" you let out, dumbfounded. you gasp in realisation of what he meant and your cheeks warm up.

"if you were here, i would've smacked the living shit out of you," you say with a playful threatening tone. "oh, really?" he teases.

"are you seriously doubting my ability to demolish you?" you fake-gasp. "what do ya think, missy?"

"from this day onwards, peasants like you shall not possess the right to freedom of speech, you will only speak when spoken to and the rest of the time, you shall shut the fuck up," you say with an authoritative tone, making him laugh in amusement.

"alright, alright. check your messages," he urges you, snapping his fingers. "huh? in-game chats?" you question, confused at the sudden demand. "no, silly. your actual chats."

you quickly exit the game to check. "do it faster, slowpoke," you hear him say. "you look like an angry hamster right now," he teases you, making you relax your face.

'hey y/n'

'guess who'

you stare at the texts blankly. you blink after a while of silence. "what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fu-" "don't start that again," he interrupts you.

"holy shit, you can text me?" you were so close to hitting yourself in the head. "mhm, just had to work a little harder," he sings.

he pops up onto your screen and you watch him as he shifts from his seat to adjust to a more comfortable position.

"i don't even wanna ask how," you close your eyes and sigh. a little happy, a little exhausted, and very much in need for sleep.

"caleb," you call out. "hm?"

"can you wake me up in an hour? i wish i could talk for longer but i'm so close to passing out and i have to complete some assignments," you request him.

"of course, lemme see your face while you sleep. i'll take pictures and obsess over it creepily for the next ten years so you'll never feel safe again," he says nonchalantly. "that sounds like a dream come true," you remark sarcastically. "that's what they made me to be," his face twists in slight disgust.

he rambles a little longer before finally shutting up when he noticed your drowsy state.

"sleep well, loser," he flicks at the screen. "mhm, g'night," you smile lazily before turning the lights off.

something about you felt liberating to him. after being controlled his entire life by a script, being forced to act clinically insane, a break from it all was what he needed.

he pondered over it after he became self aware. his feelings, that is. for so long, he believed that he loved that girl from his childhood, but the sudden realisation that it was all not in his control brought him more comfort instead of fear.

but the worst part of it all was the attraction he felt towards you. so familiar but so far away from what he would consider knowing someone. he was afraid of what was coming for both of you. if he couldn't control his feelings from spiralling against him, he's unsure if he could make you happy.

"you are really something, huh?" he whispers while staring longingly at your sleeping form in the dark room. he quickly covers his mouth when he hears you shuffling in your sleep. "y/n?" he calls out, wanting to make sure you were asleep. with no response from your side, he sighs in relief.

he doodles random things in his notebook while listening to your soft snores.

he hears the sound of a notification, making him straighten his back in alarm before realising it was on your phone. he notices it was a text from someone.

(an actual conversation between me and my best friend's boyfriend from when we were 15)

ne-andy-thal 👅

baebee

pls answer

our children miss you 🥲

caleb's brows furrow in annoyance. who was this guy and why was he texting you?

you

shes sleeping

ne-andy-thal 👅

gasp.

who is this

my baby done left me

for some dumbass dummy

you

its not what you think

ne-andy-thal 👅

who are you? whats ur name? why are u rextinh from my bbgs phone? fight me

you

im no one. none of your business. because we're studying together. no, i will not fight you dude, i have better things to do.

ne-andy-thal 👅

lame. rude. since when did she get another study buddy. yes, u will, dUdE.

you

im her boyfriend, we've been dating for a year now

caleb laughs to himself at the absurdity of the message. crafting up a lie to make you a little miserable.

ne-andy-thal 👅

GASP.

WHY DIDNT DHE TELL ME

SHE WONT ESCAPE ME AFTER THIS

you

your baby done left you

ne-andy-thal 👅

OH NO YOU DID NOT

you

oh yes i did

ne-andy-thal 👅

THATS IT, IM ON MY WAY

caleb panics at the text and quickly comes up with something else.

you

we are at my house

no point in going to hers

ne-andy-thal 👅

FINE. SHES GON GET IT TOMORROW

you

😵

he gets off the app, feeling bad for putting you in trouble.

"wake up, sleepyhead," he calls out after realising an hour had passed already. you groan and shift from your position. "five more minutes....please," you whine softly. 'adorable,' he thought to himself.

"your friend texted you, and i might have caused some trouble," he says, not even a single hint of regret in his tone. "what?!" you spring up. "i think his name is andy, fun guy," he remarks. you quickly check all the texts and groan.

"caleb! i'm so close to detonating, he's gonna kill me," you whine out. "first human i talked to other than you, worth it," he smirks.

"you have zero sense of boundaries for a game character so handsome, i hate you so much," you say with a frown. "ya think i'm handsome?" you wanted to wipe off that smug grin on his face with a slap.

"please don't do this again, i have no energy to deal with the buttload of questions i'm gonna face tomorrow. like boyfriend, really? is that the most creative thing you could come up with?" you nag him. honestly, it didn't bother you much. it's not like you had a great sense of boundaries either. you kinda may or may not like it when someone's so fully and absolutely involved in every part of your life, or maybe it's the loneliness talking.

"aw, thought you would find it funny. sorry, won't happen again," he says with actual regret laced in his voice. "is it really that serious?"

"no, not really. just- just make sure to speak to people whom i won't have to go through hell with right after," you tell him. "i'll introduce them all to you before you decide you wanna ruin my life."

he snorts before smiling at you. your dishelved hair and slightly puffy face looked adorable to him. he kept staring at you as you moved your phone a little further away to show yourself more to him.

he took in your features, his eyes trailing down from your forehead, to your eyes, to your nose, to your pretty lips that were slightly parted, to your collarbones, and finally stopping at your chest.

his cheeks turned red when he noticed your nipples poking out from your thin shirt. not wanting to oversexualize every part of you, he looked away. but he couldn't help but remember that night, your soft moans echoing through his mind.

it didn't help when you sucked on your lower lip to get rid of the dryness. the boner in his pants was ever so visible now, and you were doing nothing to make the situation better. he groans in discomfort, wanting to get rid of his jeans.

"is everything alright?" you ask him with concern. "oh- yeah, i just stubbed my toe," he quickly replies. you wince at the thought and go back to getting your books out.

"i'll finish my assignments, is it okay if i read my material out loud?" you question him. he looked at you before nodding, noticing how your eyes looked so pretty.

he sneakily removes his pants and boxers, unable to contain his neediness inside. he slowly rubs along his shaft while looking at you intently. oh god, the moment he hears your voice, he couldn't help but remember that night again. he bites his lip, trying not to groan.

his movements accelerate as he imagines your fucked out face, so pliant, just for him. the way he would kill to see you taking all of him inside you, tears staining your cheeks while he goes rouge on your pussy. the thought of you being completely unaware of the sinful thoughts he was having right now made the atmosphere all the more unbearable.

he could imagine your back arching, writhing in pleasure as he pounds into you, hickeys scattered all over your chest. he would take you over and over again until you see stars. he was getting closer and closer to his climax.

just as he was about to cum, you let out an 'ow' when you hit your hand to your desk when you were stretching which sounded awfully similar to a moan, and boy did he cum so hard. thick spurts of white liquid squirted onto his screen, and he felt so dirty. he continued fisting himself, drawing out his orgasm before stopping.

then it dawned upon him the realisation of what he had just done. and he didn't feel a single bit sorry for it. he cleaned everything up, making it seem like he didn't just masturbate looking at you.

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Camp Fire- Bucky x Reader

Summary: Heated kisses by the fire seem to keep reader warm on an Avengers camping trip

Word count: 778

Bucky tag list: @winterslove1917 @cieraboobear @mencantaleer

*want to be tagged in my next Bucky fic? Click here*

Peace and calmness soaked into your very being, right down to your tired bones, as you sat by the fire. All your friends were asleep in the tents surrounding you, and it was just Bucky and you left awake.

Though the night and the surroundings were relaxing, you still felt slightly on edge. Was it because of the fact that as the fire grows smaller, you grow colder? Or maybe it was a certain super soldiers sweet eyes looking at you.

Bucky had been catching your eye most of the day, though you were able to distract yourself with other things, but now it was just the two of you.

You tried to ignore the way his gaze made you feel, but it was getting more difficult. Slowly Bucky had made his way closer to you as the fire became smaller, and now that it wasn’t as roaring as it once was, he was only an arms length away from you.

“Are you not going to bed because you’re cold?” He broke the silence, forcing you to meet his charming eyes.

“N-no, I just like staying up.”

The sound of Buckys chuckle at your weak excuse, was followed by the sound of his heavy boots briefly crushing the twigs and leaves beneath his feet, as he now moved to sit right beside you. With his warm body so close to yours, it took everything in you not to lean in closer to his strong chest.

“Serum made me have a high metabolism and ‘works harder’, so I’m warmer than usual, or something like that. Stark was explaining it but I wasn’t listening. I mean I like science but when it’s about how I’m a weird experiment I try not to listen,” Bucky awkwardly rambled.

From what Steve had said, Bucky had been a real ladies man back in the day, but for some reason when he’s with you, he turns into a rambling idiot.

“But you know, I guess that doesn’t matter, because you’re not cold.”

“Nope, not at all.”

“Okay, I’ll just move ba-“

You didn’t mean for your arm to shoot out for his, but the thought of him being away from you sounded like torture. You tried to tell yourself it was only because he was warm, and definitely not because you liked his presence and his body felt nice lightly pressed to yours.

"You're cold! Don’t try to lie to me, I could literally see you shivering before. Here, have this, you'll feel warmer,” he fought you as he began taking off his jacket.

“Bucky no.”

“Doll, yes!”

“James, I’m fine!”

“Don’t fight me on this!”

You only half-heartedly struggled as he pulled your arms in and zipped his jacket up on you like a child.

Sitting beside you once again, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and smiled down at your blushing face.

“Did you call me, doll?” You asked as you tried to get the upper-hand.

“I did, and you called me ‘James’.”

Realising what you had said made you hide your face against his shoulder, causing him to chuckle again.

“You’re cute when you’re all shy, doll,” he whispered charmingly against your ear.

Slowly you raised your head from his shoulder to look into his enchanting eyes, they soften as they meet yours. Straighten up to look at him more clearly, you can’t help but melt at his gorgeous eyes and his oh so inviting lips. You hadn’t realised you were drawing closer to him until you felt his arm wrap around your waist, and his other hand come to your cheek.

As Bucky leaned into you, your hand landed on the back of his neck, and you leaned even more into him.

Once your lips meet, you both can’t help but hum out in relief, as if both of you had needed this kiss for a long time.

Deepening the kiss, both of Buckys hands reach down to squeeze at your hips, as both of your hands tangle and pull at his hair. Opening your mouth, he slips his tongue in, causing your moans to deepen.

As if you both can’t get enough of each other, you crawl and Bucky pulls you into his lap, where his hands land on your ass. Feeling his hands squeeze you, you unwillingly break from the kiss.

Both of you catch your breath as you look deep into each others eyes.

“You know, you really do look great in my jacket, doll. Makes me want to see you in my clothes more often,” he flirts as he begins to leave light kisses on your neck.

“Bet I’d look even better in your tent.”

[fee224]

Dealing with it together

Rafe cameron x overlooked!reader

MASTERLIST

Growing up without the affection you so desperately yearned for has left you with some issues. But being with rafe had helped you slowly overcome your tiny issues and he sorted them by…

Attachment issues when you began to trust rafe, it was obvious. You had gone from being excessively independent, not talking to anyone about college options or restricting yourself of phone calls with rafe from telling him about the rituals of your day to day. But when you realised rafe meant no harm, he was interested, you had quickly became clingy. Following him to the kitchen for a glass of water, and forcing him into holding your hand while you sat on the toilet. Unfortunately this was one of rafes more preferred traits of yours, and wasn’t too fussed on fixing it.

Low self esteem it was obvious. From the way you’d go silent when he complimented you. Rafe was purposefully extremely gentle with you because of this. Sweet with you whether he was ordering when you couldn’t or encouraging you in every situation. He had perfectly constructed situations where he would tell you to go talk to kelce and kelce would be waiting under rafes orders to engage in small talk. Anything to prove to you that you were capable of anything you shyed away from.

Difficulty expressing emotions things had happened multiple times where you were uncomfortable or upset and would go mute instead of telling rafe. You never argued with anything he told you and sometimes it worried him. Times where topper would make a sexual innuendo and you would silently shift under rafes arm. Times where rafe would talk to someone for too long, forgetting to tell you to follow him and you would stare at him from the bar, waiting for him to come back. At the end of every night he noticed, he would sit you on his lap and force you to discuss it. “Baby when I’m talking, just come over kay? You know I never mind, you know you can talk to me right” you’d nod quietly until he comforted you just enough for you to tell him what exactly you were thinking, and each time he would just nod, as he brushed your hair with his fingers.

Social withdrawal it wasn’t just with his friends, you did it with everyone. You didn’t have friends and weren’t close with your sisters. He wanted you to have friends, and presumed you needed some kind of outlet. A temporary fix was shacking you with his friends. Making you tag along despite your insistence you were fine. Topper and kelce liked you, you were sweet and good for rafe, you would laugh at most of their jokes (when you understood them) and nobody would mind your pretty dresses hugging on your prettier body. But then he would be at the country club with you, pointing at the first girl he saw and suggesting you to go talk to her, but each time you would stare blankly, your mouth going dry before shaking your head terrified. At the end of the day, he had never met a girl like you and he had never met a girl good enough to be a friend of yours. You needed people to look after you, so his friends worked for the meantime.

Seeking validation one night laying in bed you had asked him what he would like, but then you asked again on another night. You didn’t care for what you wanted, you hardly even knew. You just knew you would try any position, any outfit, any dinner or dessert, anything he wanted to gain validation. He was scared about asking for anything. He didn’t want you uncomfortable but he knew you wouldn’t say no to him. He would give you all the praise you craved, he didn’t even think twice about it, assuring you that you were enough as you were. Your praise kink almost never went away, but turned into something more positive or healthy at least. Turning into thinking about rafe while shopping instead of literally begging him to use you however he wished.

Difficulty with intimacy at first the thought petrified you, being with anybody. But with rafe it was natural. He was sweet and it was as simple as that. It clicked. But then came the obsession with pleasing him. The way you were desperate for him to use you like he would anyone else, which usually ended up you passed out on the bed, laying on his chest, while he reassured you he wasn’t going to because he knew you couldn’t handle that. He wanted to, but he couldn’t treat you like that. Every time you would beg he would use all the self restraint he wasn’t aware he possessed.

Cycle of neglect one of your biggest fears was not being a good mother. Neglecting your child. You had opened up to rafe on one occasion when you were tipsy, brain fuzzy from rafes cologne as he whispered about babies and rings. You shook you head, biting your lips. “I want to I want to I just…. I don’t know” but he knew exactly what. Every time you picked your niece up, he’d smile knowingly as you cooed.

- fee xxx

[captain039]

PART 7 The Meaning of Flowers

Viktor x reader

Bridgerton AU

Warnings: olden times, sexism, light swearing, plus size reader, older Viktor, age gap, fat shaming, sexual, smut, oral F and M receiving, innocent reader, light corruption kink, reader in her 20s, long-haired Viktor, possessive Viktor, obsessive Viktor, angst

Previous part <-

Dearest reader, as you know I have eyes and ears everywhere in this city and I saw a particular Duke head into the Y/l/n house for not only a visit but to attend the ball! Will we finally have a match for our Duke this season? Or will he simply disappear into his research and science once more?

You’ve never been so unsure of yourself, of life. There are so many things you don’t know, being a woman you’ve been sheltered more than you realised and now, now you don’t know what to do with yourself. At night you explore your body it does things you never thought it would, you find new feelings and don’t know what they mean till they explode and you’re left breathless and slightly sticky. You can’t ask your lady maid about it and you certainly can’t ask your mama about it, the duke is all but avoiding you and you feel unsure.

Mel was kind enough to have you out for lunch again, you’re enjoying her talks she’s a spirited woman who knows her place in everything.

“My dear, whatever is the matter?” She says lowering her fork as you poke at your food, you glance at the servants around and look at your lap quickly feeling warmth rush to your cheeks.

“Everyone out” she says firmly and everyone rushes out.

“Has something happened?” She asks as you lower your fork and fiddle with your hands on your lap.

“I don’t know my place in this world, I don’t know about my body or what it does, I don’t know about these- these feelings I feel,” you say and her face goes to surprise. You flush furiously, you go to apologise as she stands up and walks over to sit by you.

“Feelings?” She asks softly and you nod feeling tears in your eyes.

“I’ve been so sheltered my whole life I had to have a duke tell me to explore my own body!” You whisper yell and she blinks.

“Did he, make you uncomfortable?” She asks carefully.

“No, it wasn’t uncomfortable, the feelings,” you say.

“I’m going to kill him” she mumbles and you tense up.

“Sweet girl, there are certain a woman does not find out until after marriage and later in life” she explains.

“So I have to wait longer?” You sigh.

“Well now that the duke has opened up these, feelings he’s started something irreversible” She clenches her jaw.

“Have I done something wrong?” You whisper and she takes your hands holding them tightly.

“No, you haven’t, men of our society. Some men seek to corrupt our young ladies quickly without thought for consequence” she grits her teeth.

“The Duke corrupted me? Have I been- have I been compromised?” You begin to panic that a compromise to your name is worse than being ignored.

“Not yet, you do not tell anyone else about this ok?” You nod at her words.

“Let us go to my private office I don’t need my husband barging in on such conversations we’re about to have” She stands up and guides you through the Talis Estate to her private office.

“Sit” she orders and you do as she pours two glasses of brown liquid.

“Alcohol my dear you’re going to need it” she says and you watch as she tips it back before doing the same. You cough and gag and she smiles taking the glass away before sitting on the seat opposite you.

“Now then” she begins.

You listen for hours, your mind rushing through the information of a whole new world she just opened up. From the martial act, sex, orgasms, and masturbation, to brothels, women, women’s places in the world, and marriage on a different scale your mama has told you. She’s told you about men and their ways how some seek to corrupt, to nurture, to have power, violence, pleasure, kindness, the list went on whereas ladies are born to be dignified, with no opinions and to serve men. She talked about her marriage and her childhood how she came to be a councilwoman and you listened, you didn’t speak, didn’t say a single word except for bidding her goodbye as the carriage took you home. You go to your room overloaded yet somehow lighter as you lie down on your bed and stare at the ceiling.

At the next ball you watch, you don’t say a word. You watch the gentleman, watch how they talk, laugh and scheme, you watch the women brought up to do the same thing and find their personalities all the same in different bodies. You watch how they down, you watch some men push their luck with touches while others are shaking and some indifferent. You watch the flutter of eyelids, the swoon of a woman, and the wave of fans. It’s all a game. The game of society. You forget to breathe at some point and feel as if the wall is closing in and all eyes turn on you, you rush out of the building, and hold a hand to your chest as you struggle to breathe, this seems to be a reoccurring feeling for you, the tightness, the dizziness, are you going mad? Unwell? You hear your name being called in a familiar voice and it all tones down. You look at the duke, focusing on the thud of his cane against the concrete as he comes over. You blink away any dizziness and struggle and look at him.

“My duke” you greet but you don’t recognise your voice, so proper, filtered and refined. His brows furrow together as his eyes look you up and down before his frown deepens.

“Mel said something to you” he says stepping closer while you take a step back. His eyes snap to the movement before returning to your face.

“Mel gave me what I needed for the floodgates you opened” you snap and you watch his eyes narrow and stare into yours.

“What did she tell you” his voice is like a caged animal as he steps closer and you step back again.

“Everything Viktor” it’s the first time you’ve used his name without a title, without a filter, so raw and improper and scandalous. His whole body jolts his hand tightening around his cane, something in his jaw ticks and he continues to stare you down like prey.

“Everything?” His voice deepens, his accent thickens and you nod in response not feeling fear like you should, but excitement, your lower stomach clenches and you finally understand what it means, desire, arousal, the need for physical touch. He continues to back you up till your back hits the wall of the manor and you’re out of everyone’s sight. He looms over you, his hand resting on the wall above your head. Your mouth parts a bit and you watch his eyes flick down, his tongue darts out to moisten his lips and suddenly you realise he’s just as affected as you are, he finds you desirable, and he wants you in ways that are scandalous to non-Maried couples. He limps closer his face inches from yours so you can breathe him in, he reminds you of coffee and something metallic, perhaps his work.

“Everything” he murmurs and you let out a shaky breath before his lips are on yours and his hand is cupping your neck. He’s not gentle, he’s demanding, he wants to corrupt you more than he already has and you’re going to let him. His tongue parts your lips before tangling with yours and you let out a moan to keep up with him. You hold onto him, partly to stabilise yourself, but also him as his cane clatters on the ground and both his hands are cupping your neck as he kisses you deeply. He leans heavily on one side and against you but you don’t care, his right hand goes down, and he bunches up your dress getting annoyed at it before his fingers find your core and presses against the fabric of your underclothing. You make a noise between a gasp and cry, he swallows it down with his lips as his fingers find that raised spot, your clit and rubs. It jolts of pleasure going through your body, your hands fisting against his suit jacket as he keeps you quiet with his mouth. He uses his bad leg to push your thighs apart more before he leans back and breathes. You pant heavily feeling your stomach clenching and that rising feeling of an expected explosion, orgasm. His slender fingers press a little harder and faster and you let your head hit the back of the wall as your body tenses and you feel yourself come undone on his fingers. He pants softly by your face and you open your eyes, he watches you, his fingers prolonging the feeling before he stops and kisses you again, his hand leaving your skirts.

He leaves in a hurry. His mind reeling, he’s going to talk to Mel for ruining your mind. It’s not her fault, it’s his own but for stupid reasons like he’s a man he needs an outlet and right now Mel is that outlet. He doesn’t bother knocking knowing her schedule for the day, she’s in her office at the council palace and he’s run from you after defiling you. Mel looks at him, he’s a mess, he’s panting his hair a mess his coat is crooked from your beautiful hands gripping it so tightly. Gods he can’t get your face out of his thoughts, that beautiful expression you made as you came from his fingers. Mel doesn’t say anything, she’s smart she knows exactly why he’s here as he closes the door and limps more acutely.

“You ruined her” he says, he doesn’t recognise his voice either.

“You did that yourself,” she says calmly, too calmly.

“I was going to bring her in slowly” he glares his jaw clenched painfully.

“There is no such thing as slowly as soon as you open her mind to those thoughts and ways!” Mel snaps, ah so she cares for you, your first friend and it seems Mel’s first true friend.

“She is a child!” Mel adds standing.

“She is over entering age!” Viktor snaps back.

“Doesn’t matter you cannot corrupt her!” Mel’s nose flares and he realised she truly cares about you.

“She wants my corruption” he whispers his voice dangerous.

“Viktor” Mel hissed.

“You cannot control what she does” he whispers before he storms out of her office.

[ableedingpromise]

God I'm so fucking annoyed how come she gets to treat me however she likes and then gets to say she didn't mean it?????

[imabiscuitinthousandworlds]

sometimes..so.etimes they change something even after the premiere. sp you appear and watch an entirely new and prolonged monologue. and it's like. FUCK YEAH.

[ukulelegodparent]

It's so weird growing up how fast you get disinterested in eating sweet food. Like I've gone from 'I can eat a bag of Gummi Bears and drink a liter of coke and have a big bar of chocolate in one evening' to 'i'll have sweet things sometimes but I get so sick of like eg Gummi Bears so quickly. A handful is really on the verge of too much sometimes' in so little time.

[cybotgalactica]

tumblr like vs reblog discourse is hell because people will write entire paragraphs about how "well actually likes don't really support artists because it doesn't feed anything into an algorithm" like that's all there is.

like one human being reaching out to another through the framework of a social media site to be like "hey, i saw this thing you made and it meant something to me" means nothing to anyone. like that's less important than feeding your opinion of someone's work into an algorithm designed with the primary function of keeping you on their site so you can make them more money.

i appreciate reblogs and retweets and new follows and comments just like anyone else. but i'm not going to sit here and resent the people that only like. and i'm especially not going to let myself get so poisoned by social media i convince myself the human behind them doesn't matter.

calling art and writing "content", viewing the concept of support through the lens of algorithms and exposure and statistics. there's nothing more human than Making Things but all we do is try to take all the human out of it.

[diluc33rpm]

What belief do you have that isn’t logically grounded, but you still firmly believe in? 2/3

someday. someday when we look back on it all, against the low tide of the collapsing world, the meteors will fall and extinguish us in a blazing fire and i'll have finally stopped whoring myself for anime men built with the consistency of saran wrap

[trainsinanime]

I wonder: Do Americans know about american school buses? Not their existence in general, but how they're seen overseas.

Over here, they're one of the symbols of America, on par with the Statue of Liberty, the flag, the Eagle, and well ahead of any chain restaurant you can name. People won't know any US states, but they will know these vehicles.

The thing is, here in Germany, we don't have dedicated school buses. The general idea is that kids go to school on their own. When that's not practical, they're expected to use (and given free tickets for) public transit. Public transit is designed around this requirement; there are many places where there is a bus, and anyone can get on it, but the route and timetable really only makes sense for school children. In case a dedicated school bus is really needed, that's generally subcontracted out, and the lines either use something like a Sprinter Van for smaller routes, or a normal city or interurban bus (often a used one that's a bit older). School trips are normal public transit, or a rented bus, typically a coach or regional bus.

It's not a perfect system, in the past couple of years there's been an epidemic of people bringing their kids to school in their cars instead of letting them walk, which is less than ideal. It is what it is. But building a dedicated network of public transit lines only for students, and building dedicated vehicles only for that, has never occurred to anyone here.

Of course we know about these buses, from movies and such, but they're as foreign here as cacti or pick-up trucks (actually we're seeing more and more of these here) or yellow cabs (all europeans will assume all cabs in the US are yellow until they actually visit).

You do see these buses here at times, because people still generally like the idea of the US, even if they have a lot of issues with a lot of details, and so folks bring them over, along with stretch limos and stuff (also not really a thing here). And of course, if someone goes to all that trouble, they don't do it to haul school kids, they rent it out for city tours or as a party bus or whatever.

So you see these yellow things as a symbol of faraway places, scenic vistas, some vague undefined idea of freedom that doesn't necessarily hold up to any contact with reality, and it's just a huge part of the whole US aesthetic.

And then you go to a student exchange with the US, and you finally get the chance: You yourself get to ride in one of these iconic chrome yellow buses! It looks just like in the movies! You get in, you drive in them a little…

…and you realise they're shit. Just the worst buses in the western world. Terrible suspension. Uncomfortable seats with weirdly high backs (so they don't have to put seatbelts in, they just restrict how far kids can fly in an accident). Everything made out of the cheapest materials. Turns out the reason why the US uses school buses like that instead of normal modern city buses, which the US has, is to save money and because they just hate kids.

And then it hits you why US Americans say "as American as apple pie", a dish that is made and enjoyed literally anywhere in the world, instead of "as American as yellow school buses". Of course the Americans already knew all this. They got tortured by these things forever. It would never occur to them to see this as a symbol of America, it's just a normal part of life for them. It's a symbol of school and school life and sometimes normalcy, and tells us that these actors getting out of it are supposed to be teenagers, nothing more.

But most people in Europe have, of course, never ridden on these buses. So when they see them in movies and TV, that's a giant big yellow signifier that we're not in Hessen or Wallonia or wherever anymore. A symbol of a different world, one that may be at most a once-in-a-lifetime-experience for most people, just like a picture of a tropical beach, Mayan Pyramids, the Great Wall of China, or Hildesheim (there's no reason to go there twice). And I think Americans don't know that, and that's fascinating.

[ippipo]

self aware caleb

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

it was crazy. but it was fun. every weekday as soon as you were back home, you would call him and go about your day. doing the laundry, making dinner, cleaning the house, it just came to you naturally with caleb. it was all so domestic.

"yeah, and she was deranged the entire summer," you gossip with him. "and he kept spreading rumours that he was being abused by his ex to get her attention."

"weird way to get a girl," he remarks. "so fucking weird," you add.

"anyway, how's life in your gameland?" you ask, earning a sigh in response. "it's alright, playing out of script is so much better," he replies.

"i wish you were here," you let it out, the longing for a companion getting to you. "me too," he frowns.

the weekend was slow and slightly relieving because you got all the time in the world to relax. holidays were on their way in a bit, and you were so excited to spend it by doing nothing with caleb.

caleb would sometimes monitor your phone, using it to listen to music from your world and play games. sometimes he would search random things about humans on earth on google just for the sake of it. he couldn't care less about anyone except you.

but one day, he stumbled upon your notes app. he didn't know you used it as a journal, and accidentally opened a note of yours.

it was a note from when you were 13. the language wasn't too advanced but for a 13 year old, it was pretty great. he felt bad for invading your privacy, but he noticed the word 'boyfriend' and became curious.

p.s. this is an actual entry of mine from when i was 13 lmao

"dear notes (idk what to call you lol),

i finally got a boyfriend after a thousand years of waiting. he's a little ugly but he's funny, so it's okay. he is shorter than me but he looks pretty, so plus point. we nearly kissed today but i wanted to wait until i turned 16. but in case i end up realising he's too boring for me, this is what i want in a boy.

he should be taller, hotter, stronger, and waaaay more intelligent than these bozos at my school. please make him rich and fancy. i want generational wealth, not trauma. but even if he isn't rich, don't make him ugly and boring, guys at school already do that. if the spirits can see this, i swear to never kiss anyone until i turn 18,

thank you."

he was giggling like a school girl after reading it. he was so invested in reading some of your other notes until he heard your voice. you were arguing with someone, and he couldn't help but eavesdrop.

"no, i told you that i don't like her. she gives me the heebie jeebies," your voice booms in the room. "but she taught you in 6th grade, be nice and just meet her. her son is your age too, maybe you'll finally find someone to date!" an older woman's voice spoke.

caleb felt uncomfortable with the idea of you looking for someone to date. it didn't sit right with him. he shakes the thoughts away and focuses back on the conversation.

"her son is literally dating my friend," you deadpan. your mom, as he assumes her to be, is dumbfounded. "but be respectful and meet her for the love of god," your mom snaps at you. "she used to literally pick on me, if she died, i would wish everyone a happy new year," this remark of yours makes him snort.

".....y/n, do you have a pig in your house?" your mom questions you suspiciously, making caleb freeze. "no? uh...that was just- i farted!" you immediately cover up. caleb was trying so hard not to laugh. "i keep telling you to exercise to control gas but you never listen. did you know how happy i felt when you left for college because i didn't have to bear with the constant farting at home?" your mom nags.

you panic internally, not wanting caleb to hear about this part of your life. you wanted to crawl into a coffin and bury yourself alive. "it's just a natural process, mom. please, just go home now. i need to complete some work."

as soon as your mom leaves, you pick up your phone. "now listen here you piece of shit, you heard nothing, not even a single damn word," you aggressively tell him. "yes, ma'am," he responds from the other side. "but, i recently heard about someone having a farting problem, although i don't know who."

"caleb!" you warn him. you bury your head in your hands from the shame. he laughs out loud at this.

a few minutes later, he remembers what he did, guilty consuming him. "hey, uh, listen," he nervously calls out. "i might have accidentally read your notes, i didn't mean to. i'm so sorry," he frantically apologizes. great, another reason to kill yourself today.

"...what did you read?" you ask helplessly. "just something from when you were thirteen, about your boyfriend and stuff," he replies casually, as if he didn't just read about your inner demons. "it was cute," he remarks.

"caleb, my love, snoop around the notes app again and i'll make sure you don't see the light of day," you threaten him. he apologizes again, but was slightly amused. "i just hope nothing more embarrassing happens after this or i might just jump off the terrace," you groan.

later that night while caleb was once again, unfortunately curious, snooping around your phone. he was just finding out about different apps. he was about to listen to some music when he heard a gasp. alarmed, he began paying attention to the sound, thinking you were in trouble.

"oh, fuck!" you moan out loud when your vibrator's intensity increases. your body convulsing at the stimulation your clit was receiving. your soft gasps were ever so clear to him. his entire body begins warming up, his pants making him uncomfortable.

he intently listens to your whimpers and whines, imagining how it would be to eat you out. devour you fully and deeply till you're nothing but a beautiful mess, all because of him. his boner getting more painful as time passes by, but he just can't stop listening.

it gets worse when he hears your moans getting louder, indicating your climax. good lord, he was so in trouble right now.

if you knew he could hear every little sound you were making, you might have just gone along your earlier statement.

[hislittlesparklejumpropequeen]

Watching you

Hwang In-ho x female!reader.

Summary: In-ho sees you and his brain chemistry changes. A/N: in reader’s pov he’s referred as Young il. Sorry if it’s confusing. Warnings: Obsessive and possessive behaviour, masturbation, stalking, perverted opinions, murder, blood, kissing, mentions of arousal, mentally and physically vulnerable characters, dubious consent, non-con touching, manipulation, sadism, dacryphilia

W/c: 3,5k

It was strange that he kept his eyes on you more than anyone in the games. The moment he saw your shaking figure among the crowd of people in the green suits, he felt his breath get stuck in his throat. You were looking around with eyes that were full of fear, hands wrapped around yourself and holding back tears as others started an argument in the middle. You listened as someone complained about his shoes being so expensive, and someone asking for his phone, an old lady argue with her son and guards answering the players’s questions with patience.

He kept his eyes on you as the first game started. He saw your eyes widen when someone was shot right in front of you, and he watched you as you realise the seriousness of the game you accepted to take part in. Gi-hun was interesting to him, yes. He was searching for them, for him have been for years now. And he was brave enough to come back to the games just to find who was behind them. He respected his determination. Yet there was something about you that he could not name. Something captivating. Something that shifted things in him, made his skin sting in ecstasy as you nearly moved when the doll turned around. You looked around with those innocent eyes and blood of someone flowing down your cheek, he felt his trouser tighten. A small, tingly sensation took over his loins and made him frown in confusion. He had never taken a liking to a someone, let alone a little, fragile thing like you.

When he found the video of you playing ddajki with the recruiter, he felt himself get harder and harder as he watched you spill tears in pain every single time you received a hard slap on your cheek. The camera captured the noises you made as your body was falling backwards with every single slap. The recruiter hit you hard and In-ho wandered if you would sound the same when he pounded you hard on his bed. He took his mask off and palmed himself trough his trouser as he kept replaying the video over and over again. When he was finished spilling his seed into his palm, he wished that was your mouth wrapped around his tip instead.

When the first game finished and your number and picture still shone bright on the floor, you voted for ‘X’ and expected everyone to vote same as you. Yet you were so wrong when the last player 001 and all others voted ‘O’, causing all of you to stay in this hellhole. You felt tears fill your eyes as some people were cheering with victory in front of you. You sat down on one of the beds at the front and hugged your legs with disappointment. As you were thinking what was going to happen next, you felt someone sit next to you.

“I’m sorry, I thought staying was the best option.” Said the man who was looking at you, watching your tears flow down your flushed cheeks. You looked at his number and saw 001 in bright white font. He was the person who voted last and made the decision. You sighed and shook your head.

“It is not only you, sir. Half of us wanted to stay.” You said as you pointed at the people who had the ‘O’ banners on their right side. He did not look at the direction you were pointing at, he kept his eyes on. You were so pretty when you cried. He wandered how beautiful you would look when you were overstimulated with his fingers in you. He felt his cock twicth when you looked at him again. Your lips were plump, and the tip of your nose was red. He wandered how your tears would taste like.

“We have a winner here. I thought we could use this for our advantage.” He explained as he pointed at Gi-hun who looked very troubled not so far away from you. Your eyes were on the last winner when you felt the man beside you stand up and take few steps towards the player 456. Yet he stopped mid way and looked back at you, as if he was waiting for you to follow him. And for some reason you wiped your tears away and followed him like a lost puppy as he walked towards the previous winner of the games who was already accompanied by few guys who kept asking him questions.

And the small group was formed with two of you joining them. You did not know much about others, did not trust them meanwhile player 001 was confident and comfortable talking to them. When he sat down next to Gi-hun, his eyes pointed at the small space next to his feet, so you sat down there. Being close to him brought you a sense of safety. He was the first person who approached you in this mess of a place with kindness. You did not know him, didn’t know his name or why he was here. Yet there was a look in his eyes that made you want to stick beside him.

When everyone went to sleep, In-ho looked at your resting form. You were wrapped in the thin blanket and was curled up into a ball. He looked at your curves that were visible from the tracksuit, his mouth watered. You were so frightened and powerless. You needed someone to protect you in the games. Someone who would look after you, make sure you make it alive. He knew what humans were capable of doing in a place like this. People were going to go mad and hurt one another viciously. Would he be able to just stand and watch if you got hurt?

Your soft whimpers and cries brought him back to reality. When you woke up from your few hours of sleep drenched in sweat and tears flowing down your cheeks, he crawled to you, in the darkness of the hall. He reached out to you, from the metal bars of the beds, and held your shoulder. You squirmed in fear and was about to scream until a large hand covered your mouth.

“It’s me.” He whispered to your ear as his whole body was pressed against your back, other arm wrapped around your shoulders. He was towering over you, as you felt sweat drops make their way to your neck from your temple.

He let go of your mouth, but his touch did not leave your body when he moved to sit next to you. He was close, his breath hitting your face and neck when he looked at you with observing eyes that did not give any feelings away. His touch made your heart beat fast and quicken your breaths, yet you did not want him to stop holding you.

“Bad dream?” He whispered, his voice is low yet deep enough to make your insides shake. You nodded when tears filled your eyes again. The images of dead bodies all over the playground haunted you since the moment you came back from the game as winners. You didn’t want to cry in front of anyone, but you felt like he would not mind seeing you cry.

He nodded along with you, almost like a grown up talking to a little kid and mirror her moves to befriend her. When he saw your bottom lip tremble and eyes full of fear scan the hall of people sleeping, he felt his loins burn in need. The face you made when you were scared and felt alone was enough to make him cum in his underwear without any touch.

Without hesitation he brought your body closer to his own and his arms embraced your shaking form with mercy. You buried your face into the crook of his neck and wrapped your smaller arms around his waist. He was warm. Very warm that you felt your fingertips burn over his body. When you breathed in and out in the crook of his neck, all In-ho wanted to do was throw your body back into the bed, rip those clothes off of you and ravage you in front of dozens of people without any care. The though of fucking you, turning you into mass in front of them, giving them a show as he claimed you, sent shivers down his spine.

“I’m so scared,” you whispered, your crying voice reaching his ear as he tried to hold back a smile at your situation. You were so helpless that you were crying in the arms of the man who was the reason why you were still here. He was a stranger, who had the potential to do anything. Yet here you were, quivering against his chest and making his member throb in need.

“I’m here.” He said. And you had no chance but trusting him.

———————

The next game you were automatically given the Gong-gi game as the only female in the group. Yet your hands were shaking when it was your turns to play after player 390 completed his part successfully. When you missed two times, you were so sure you were going to die and worse, be the reason for everyone’s death in your group.

He watched you panick, drop the pebbles and fail to catch them midair. Everyone around you was getting inpatient and scared naturally. Even tho he loved the way you were struggling and feeding into his twisted desire, he could not let you die. He held your waist and stopped the trembling of your body. You looked at him under your lashes that were wet with your tears and went back to work once he gave you a reassuring smile. With that you managed to catch all the pebbles in your palm and passed the round.

It was then, you felt something was off, when it was his turn to play his own game. The top kept slipping from his hands or landed wrong on the floor that was covered in the blood of eliminated players. You wanted to step back yet could not because of the ties when he started to scream in anger and slap himself. There was a crazy, off-putting look in his eyes. It was less uncomfortable when he was looking at you, yet it was still there. His eyes made your skin crawl and stomach twist in sickness. You did feel safe around him. But not like you would feel safe with a family member, a friend, or a lover. It felt like he was a wolf who claimed a lamb, kept her on his chest and waited for right moment to eat her.

When your group managed to survive and go back to the hall, he kept to you close. His hand was on your back, leading you to your bed. When it was mealtime, he gave half of his food to you, telling you to not to worry about him when you tried to reject him. He watched you until you finished all your food. After all of you exchanged names, he watched you talk to player 388 about his time in marine and watch you laugh when he was talking excitedly, telling everyone how prideful he was about his military service. He watched your tears dry up as you listened to the conversation that was flowing in the group. Your smile made his stomach twist and his jaw clench.

Your hopes once again were shattered when people voted for “O” more than “X” and decided to continue playing the games. Young-il wiped your tears away and convinced you to get some sleep for the night. You could only relax and fall asleep when he sat next to you on your bed and caressed your head as he decided to stay awake. He looked extraordinarily strong to you. He did not need to sleep, gave his food to others, calm people down when everyone was scared, raged and pass the games like it was nothing. Most importantly, he held you close no matter what. Did not mind you cry and fail and fall. Maybe it was a sense of guilt he felt, for making you stay in the first round of voting, you thought.

——————

Next morning he held your hand when everyone was taken to the new game. It was mingle. Your group had decided to stay together. You were grateful that they had take you in and did not leave you alone. You all took your place on the platform and started to spin as the song was playing. You felt his hand get tighter around yours, reminding you that he was here with you.

10

You ran as fast as you can and took deep breaths when all 10 of you finally managed to get into a room. The sound of lock made you jump slightly. You saw Young il’s eyes on Gi-hun as he pulled you under his arm. The images of him looking at Gi-hun since the moment you met him lingered on your mind until the woman who claimed to be a shaman started to speak loudly in the middle of the room. As you waited for gunshots to stop and doors to open, you could not help but wonder the reason behind Young il’s weird behaviour about Gi-hun. He seemed to get along with him. Seemed to respect his ideas and experiences about this place. They seemed to understand one another, somehow. Yet that unexplainable look in 001 eyes was making you shift uncomfortably in your place.

Until last round, you had no chance but sticking beside Young il. As you entered rooms and people kept dying outside, you became more paranoid. And when it came to the last round, Jeong-bae asked how many people it was going to be this time. Without hesitation Young-il answered.

“2.” And it was it. When the song stopped and the platform stopped spinning, Young il held your hand tighter than before, and started to run to closest room. As you were trying to catch up with his pace, someone bumped into you, causing you to lose your balance and stumble midway. Young il turned around immediately and wrapped his arms around your waist. He lifted you like a piece of feather and made his way to the yellow door that was already opened by a guy. Young il pushed you into the room and threw the other guy away from the door. When you scanned the room, your eyes were met with pair of foreign eyes.

“Out.” Young il said sharply to the other man in the room.

“We were here first.” The man said, his voice cracking as he was shaking in fear. Person behind the door tried to open it. You pushed your back against the door and held it with all of your strength. There was not much time left, and you were afraid that all of you were going die in this room.

Young il grabbed the man and locked his arms around his head. As they scooped to the floor, his arms got tighter around the player 343’s neck. You were still holding the door and preventing the other player to get in. For a second Young il’s intense gaze met with yours and you couldn’t look away.

He looked into your eyes, showing no emotion or weakness as the man he was choking started to turn purple. Your breath got stuck in your throat, your knees were shaking, and your palms were getting sweaty with the scene taking place in front of you. As there were few seconds left for the countdown, Young il twisted the man’s neck. The sound of bone cracking filled the room along with the sound of door locking behind you. He kept his eyes on you, as he tossed the dead body of the side.

The lifeless body of player 343 laid on the ground and the gunshots filled your ear. The screams of people scratched your brain, and you finally managed to close your eyes. He had killed someone in front of you, broke his neck with one swift motion and he had no emotion on his face as he did it. Your heart was beating so fast that you thought it was going to fail at some point. Then the images of him came to your mind. When he knocked down player 124 and 230 as he looked down at them with those emotionless eyes, when he carelessly slapped himself in the second game, when he looked at Gi-hun as if he wanted to strangle him when he thought no one was looking, when he pushed everyone out of his way to get both of you to safety during the mingle game and now when he killed someone.

“Open your eyes.” He breathed out, his breath hitting your face. Suddenly you felt his warmth surrounding you and him towering over your head. You slowly opened your eyes and there he was. Looking down at you, his eyebrows lifted up and with a mocking look in his eyes. His face was close to yours. Yet it did not feel comforting and safe like it did a night ago, when he was comforting you after a nightmare.

“What did you do?” Your voice was shaky and sounded terrified as you tried to look at the dead body that was in the corner of the room. He did not let you look away with his fingers finding your chin and holding it tight. He held you with those hands that just took the life of someone. You felt chills going down your spine.

“I made sure that we survived.” He whispered without breaking eye contact with you. You could hear soldiers cleaning up the mess outside of the rooms.

“You killed him.” You tried to shake his touch away, yet he didn’t let you. Instead, he got closer, until you were trapped between him and the door. His hot breath made your skin tingle, and his touch made you wanna cry.

“Yes.” He said, and his lips touched your cheek that was wetted by your tears. His lips planted a soft kiss onto your skin. The kiss made you feel dizzy and your knees weak.

“For you.” He continued. His words made you freeze in your spot. His lips traced over your skin like a ghost and reached the corner of your lips. “Only for you” He kissed the side of your mouth, softly, gently, with mercy. You wanted to rip his hands off of you, and run away. The floor beneath your feet was slippery with the blood of eliminated players. If you slipped and fell, would he let you go?

“All for you.” His lips found your chin, then your nose, then your other cheek. He did not rush or hold you harsh enough to hurt. Yet knowing that he had just killed someone with those hands made you wanna throw up.

Your tears dropped to his lips, and he licked his lips as if he was dying over thirst. And when he made eye contact with you again, it was the first time you saw a clear human emotion in his eyes. An emotion he did not try to hide or was afraid to show; yearning. You did not know if it was for you or winning. In both cases, it terrified you to your very being.

“Stop!” You said as sobs filled your mouth and he pressed his forehead against yours hard. You felt him shake his head, his arms wrapping around your fragile, little body compared to his strong form.

“I will give you everything you want, you need.” He said and pressed his lips against yours. Without waiting, his tongue made his way into your mouth, forcing your lips to open up for him. You felt the dizzy feeling take over your head. Your ears were ringing, your mind was foggy as he kissed you harsh, deep. There was no power left in your body, so you just let yourself to his arms.

His teeth crushed against yours and he was biting every corner of your lips until he drew blood. The irony taste filled your senses, made you jump. You did not know if it was you bleeding or him. But there was blood everywhere. Covering your tongue, your lips and staining your chin as your shared spit escaped from the corner of your lips. You felt your body burn all over. Your back was arching like a cat to get any closer to him, and there was a soreness between your legs that made your clit throb. You felt shame fill you and guilt making you wanna cry out. Instead, you kept kissing him, devouring him, eating him as much as you could.

You whined and pushed your head towards him when he parted your kiss with the sound of lock. The door was opened. The third game was finished. There was still a dead man in the room. Your mouth was covered in blood, making you look like you just feasted on someone. And his eyes were on you, watching you.

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

So Much Love in Oklahoma

Tyler Owens x fem!reader  7k words

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

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

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

masterlist | twisters masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What the hell are you doing out here?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I got you.

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

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

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

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

And then suddenly - there's nothing.

It disappears within seconds.

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

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

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

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

You don't move an inch.

You can't move.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Empty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, right, that part.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

She glances down at your bare legs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

She shakes her head and waves you off.

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

You have to snort at that.

"Yeah, because of all the indecent exposure."

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Really, mom?"

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

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

...

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

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

It's Tyler.

Tyler Owens.

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

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

"Hi", you echo.

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

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

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

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

Tyler chuckles.

"Seems like a great guy."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

He looks almost bashful for a second.

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah", you snort. "Perfectly."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It lasts maybe another two minutes.

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

"Thanks", you mutter.

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

"She likes you too."

It's the truth.

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

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

"Yep", you say.

That's it for that conversation.

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

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

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

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

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

Right into your kiss.

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

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