#but yeah the next time my requests will be open again is for that follower event

[sydwritess]

Love all the way Through Pt. 7

Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader

Summary: You have always been a big fan of f1, especially Ferrari. Your friend Charles always invites you to races, until one day you meet someone particularly special.

Second Person POV

Warning: swearing, age gap (around 10- 15 years)

Notes: requests are open!

01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10

It was three A.M. You were leaned back against the countertop in the corner of the kitchen by the edge of the connected island and in front of the sink.

You were scrolling through Instagram on your phone, eating a cookie silently. You had the container next to you, reaching in to grab your third one when you stop, hearing footsteps leading into the kitchen.

Suddenly your met face to face with a shirtless Lewis standing in the middle of your kitchen.

"I- sorry..." He trailed.

"Your fine." You say, covering your mouth with your hand as you chew.

He steps closer to you, pointing slightly before reach up, opening the cabinet and grabbing a glass out. He silently walks over to the fridge. The lights creating an aura around his body before he closes it.

"Did I wake you up?" Your voice just above a whisper.

He shakes his head before going over to you, leaning against the counter. "No, just can't sleep."

"Yeah." You point your hand to the hallway that was blocked by the kitchen wall. "Wish I could sleep twelve hours like them."

He gives out a slight laugh. "I know. Pure jealousy when it comes to their sleeping habits."

"Can you just... not sleep?"

"Yeah. Bad luck when it comes to it. What about you?"

"I always get up around this time."

"Why?"

"Just used to it. Got my mom's genes in being a paranoid person so... I get up. Make sure some demon doesn't come to haunt me."

He looks at you with a confused look. "You're serious aren't you."

You nod your head.

"What demon? Like... the devil?"

"You could call her that." You smirk.

"Her." He repeats. Then It clicks.

"Kelly." He mumbles.

"You're smart."

He chuckles before taking a short sip of his drink.

You turn to your right, opening the drawer next to you and grabbing a small bag of treats, and a couple of cookies from the container, wrapping them in a paper towel. "You want to go for a walk?" You ask.

"Uh... sure." He says. He leaves his glass on the counter, going down the hallway and into his bedroom. You walk over to the door and slip your sneakers on. You had on a black matching pajama set but didn't care.

Lewis comes out from the hallway, shirt on and all. He puts his sneakers on and you grab your keys. You open the door, letting him out first, you follow behind, locking the apartment door behind you and walking down to the elevator, pressing the button.

The doors open quickly. You and Lewis step inside and make your way slowly down to the lobby.

The elevator slowly comes to a stop on the lobby floor. You and Lewis step out, walking through the lobby and outside. He follows behind you, keeping his head slightly lowered. You walk to the edge of the parking lot, stopping and looking both ways down the street.

You let the few car's pass by before walking quickly across the street, walking onto the sidewalk.

"Where exactly are we going?" Lewis asks, now walking beside you.

"Just down the block."

He nods your head and continues walking with you. You come to the next intersection by your apartment. You stop before walking across the crosswalk. You take another left, going deeper into the city than you already were.

You walk straight on the sidewalk for a bit until you are met with an empty parking lot. You cross another street again, walking over and ducking under the control barriers that were used to let cars in and out.

You see Lewis keep looking around him as you walked, but didn't say anything. You walk to the back of the lot, walking by an old car that was left there for years. You go just behind it, taking the bag and wrapped treats out of your pocket, and tucking it on the back ledge of the car.

"What are you doing?" Lewis asks.

You stand up and face him. "There's this homeless guy I met a few years ago. Every since I found out about him and his dog... I leave stuff here for them." You say.

"That's... really nice."

"Thanks." You smile.

You slowly walk around the parking lot a bit, talking to each other about random things.

You were walking, looking up at him and when you bumped into something hard. "Jesus Christ!" You back away instantly back up.

"What the fuck!" The figure yells. You step closer, seeing Lando there holding his chest.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I followed you guys.... want to know what you were doing."

"Nothing. An- why does it matter?"

"Hey, you're the one that bumped into me."

"Your the one that followed us."

He sighs, rolling his eyes. "Fine. Fine, I did."

You look behind you, hearing some noise come from the alley way behind the parking lot. "Let's get out of here."

The guys follow closely behind you, walking down the street with you back to the apartment.

"Why do you come out here at night?" Lando asks.

"It's more calm."

"What were you doing back there?"

"Putting food there for my homeless friend."

"Well if he's homeless then why don't you let him live with you."

You don't answer.

"Or get him something other than food. Maybe clothes. Or a house. Or a car. Or money. Or-"

You quickly turn around. "Lando! Will you please shut. Up."

"I was just asking a question." He backs. Lewis chuckles at the two of you.

"Aren't you supposed to be asleep?"

"I could ask you the same question." He smirks. Your eyes deepen into his. "Or- or not."

You look past him to see a car pull up next to you, loud rap beats coming from the car. The guy rolled down his window and looked out, turning the radio down.

"Y'all giving our girl some trouble?" He asks. You see your friend Red.

"You're girl?" Lando asks back.

"He's fine Red. Just go... get high somewhere."

"If he gives you any trouble." He holds up the phone sign with his hands. "Call me." His friend drives off down the street.

You roll your eyes and continue walking down the road.

"Red?" That's his name?" Lando mutters. "And- 'our girl' that's nice to know." Lando says.

"They're friends."

"Mean fri-"

"Protective."

"Protective friends."

"At least their looking out for her." Lewis says, putting a positive spin on things.

"Yeah but... imagine your girlfriend, if you had one, just magically" He hold his hands up in an imaginative way. "Out of the blue her guy friends pull up and mistake you for a mugger."

You freeze at Lando's words.

"Jesus I- why'd you stop." Lando says, shaking you out of your thoughts.

"I just... thought I saw something."

"What? Anway."

"I would respect them for protecting her." Lewis answers.

"But still."

"No... no but's."

You stop at the crosswalk. The light red. Lewis stands on your right, and Lando stops on your left. "Maybe your just insecure." You tell Lando.

"Insecure? I'm not the one wearing sunglasses in the middle of the night."

"It's called good fashion."

"Trust me. I know what good fashion is."

"Your merch looks like you just got some random kids to draw with highlighters over a white jersey."

"My merch is good! And what about you? You haven't got any!"

You start walking across the street. "Because I don't believe in charging fan's to support me."

"Oh... that's good actually."

"I know." You retort. You cross the street to your left, entering your apartment building's parking lot. You walk around the building, walking around to the back entrance of the building.

"Scary back here." Lando comments. You scan your card, open the door, and hold it for the guys. You all walk through the slim hallway. The hotel is quiet, and your steps echo off the walls.

You walk out into the lobby, going over to the elevators and pressing button. The doors open quickly and you step in, rising up to your floor.

You were silent, your eyes starting to get heavier and heavier. The silence was awkward. To awkward.

"So... you two were out just... feeding homeless people." Lando restates.

You nod your head. "Pretty much."

"And why at three A.M.?"

"Couldn't sleep." Lewis says.

"Is that so."

"And why were you following us?" You ask.

"I was curious."

"And what if we were... going somewhere you couldn't go?"

"Where would that be?"

You started counting with your fingers. "Any club, beach, DJ booth, funfair, bars, strip clubs, the beach, state buildings. Anywhere."

"What! Why wouldn't I be aloud?"

"You come in looking innocent but come out holding an AK-47."

The elevator stops, you all get out and unlock your door, but don't open it. "And why's that?"

"Cause you're crazy." You open the front door, the area was dark. The guys walk in after you, all taking your shoes on.

"Who the hell is stepping on me?" Lando whsiper yells.

"I don't- hang on." You pause, reaching your arms out and flicking on the light switch by the door.

You turn around to see Charles standing there with his arms crossed. "Oh my God!" You grasp your chest. "Why are you guys so quiet!" You yell.

"Where the hell have you guys been? It's nearly four in the morning!" Charlrs says angrily.

"Me and Lewis went to go put stuff down for Mark. Lando, being nosey, thought he should follow us." You explain.

"At three in the morning?"

"Yes! Jesus Christ, yes! All of you must assume I don't know what time it is."

"Why at three?"

"Couldn't sleep. So I thought, 'Why not just get it done?''"

"I'm going back to bed."

"You do that. Go sleep another twelve hours while we're up suffering." You chuckle. He flips you off as he walks down the hallway to his room. You walk into the kitchen, grab another cookie, and walk back into the living room, plopping down on the couch, sprawling out on it.

"So what now?" Lando asks, sitting in the armchair that was next to you.

"You can go to bed. I'm not going to sleep." You chuckle.

You grab the controller on the coffee table and turn your Xbox on.

"So I got woken up... to watch you play your games?"

By then, lewis came over, sitting down at the opposite end of the couch. You move your feet off the end cushion to give him room.

"Bitch you didn't have to get up." You say, clicking on the F1 game.

"Yes, I did! I wanted to know what was up!"

"Oh Jesus christ." You roll your eyes.

"What?"

You point your hand to the TV screen. "Fucking Monaco. Goddamn- dude I hate Monaco with a fucking passion. I've redid this race like five fucking times."

"What me to try?" Lewis asks. You smile and hand the controller down to him. He presses FP1 and starts clicking tasks to do, eventually going out onto the track.

"Its not that hard." Lando commented.

"I was in the actual race like a week ago and it was raining and I couldn't see shit and I passed fucking Valtteri and- he crashed into me!" You complain.

"Oh... yeah. That sucks."

"I seriously don't know how those turns are safe for people." You say, watching Lewis go around tight corner after corner.

"Well, you have the red line around the turns to help. So when you see the line change from green to red, kind of just follow that."

You laugh. "Easy for you to say. You've won like 12 million of them."

"One hundred and five. Eight world- I mean seven world championships."

"Jesus. Thats... really good. Yeahh, I've hears about that on Instagram. People say eight but correct themselves to seven. What's that about?" You ask.

"Max won a world championship, but really... Lewis should have won." Lando says.

You nod your head in understandment. "He win's like all the races. He should... let other people on the podium."

Lewis and Lando laugh, keeping their eyes on the TV as Lewis races through the Monaco circuit.

©sydwritess

Hey loves!! Pt. 7 is here! Comment to be added to the tag list! Requests are open!

Tag list:

@mxryxmfooty

[andy-15-07]

Can you write how Joaquin would scold the reader for doing something reckless because shes just like that and she saw Joaquin struggling in a fight and decided to help out

Maybe shes a little younger so she - despite being patient for her age - gets rather hotheaded and stubborn

Reckless Hearts and Close Calls

PAIRING: Joaquin Torres x Reader 💋

WORD COUNT: 535✍️

REQUESTS: Open! 💌 (send yours my way ,I love writing them all!)

🌟 Danny Ramirez Masterlist 🌟 | 🔥Kink Masterlist 🔥

“What the hell were you thinking, Y/N?”

His voice was sharper than you’d ever heard it,loud enough to echo off the alley walls, but not loud enough to drown out the frantic thud of your heart. Blood pounded in your ears, part adrenaline, part shame, and part anger of your own.

“I thought you were about to get your ass handed to you,” you snapped, wiping the smear of blood from your cheek with the back of your hand. “I was just trying to help,”

“Help?” Joaquin barked, stepping in front of you and forcing you to stop. His brows were furrowed deep, jaw tight, lips drawn into a line of pure frustration. “You had no gear. No backup. No plan. Just you running in like it’s a damn schoolyard brawl. You could’ve gotten killed.”

You rolled your eyes, which might’ve been the worst move possible.

“I’m not a kid,” you muttered. “I’m not gonna just sit on my hands and watch you,”

“Yes, you are,” he snapped, pointing a gloved finger at you. “You’re younger. You’re not trained for this. You don’t have wings or tech or even backup. You have guts, yeah, but that’s not gonna stop a guy twice your size with a knife in his hand!”

The silence that followed was heavy. You looked down at your scraped knuckles, pulse still racing from the chaos of the fight, and felt that familiar burn in your chest. That frustration that always bloomed when someone tried to put you back in a box. But this wasn’t someone. This was Joaquin. And his voice had cracked.

You glanced up. His face had softened,but only slightly. His eyes were still stormy, but there was something underneath it: fear.

“I didn’t get hurt,” you whispered.

“But you could have,” he said, softer this time. “You don’t get it, Y/N. I saw the guy coming at you. You weren’t looking. You didn’t see what I saw. And if I’d been just a second slower,if he’d gotten to you first…”

He exhaled harshly and looked away, his hands gripping the back of his neck.

“I can’t protect you if you keep throwing yourself into danger like you’re bulletproof.”

Your throat tightened. “I just… I saw you struggling. I didn’t think. I couldn’t, I just wanted to help.”

Joaquin looked at you again, his gaze softer now, but stern. “I know. And I get it, you’ve got this fire in you,you always have. But being a hero? It’s not about jumping headfirst into danger every time someone you care about is in trouble. It’s about making sure you live to help next time, too.”

You bit your lip, your hotheadedness already cooling into guilt.

“I don’t want you learning that the hard way,” he added. “Especially not because of me.”

There was a long pause before he sighed, shoulders finally relaxing.

“I’m not mad because you’re reckless,” he said. “I’m mad because I care. And I’d really prefer it if you didn’t scare the hell out of me again.”

You managed a sheepish nod. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

He reached out and ruffled your hair,more gently than usual.

“Good. Now let’s get you patched up before I really lose it.”

[nina-ya]

GOOD MORNING HAPPY FRIDAY TO YOU ALL!!!! ITS THE END OF THE WEEK WE PUSHED THROUGH ILY ALL 💞💞💞

[jungwnies]

f1 grid (1/2) | meeting the family

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri (click here for part two) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by @holycastles) : your formula one boyfriend meeting your seemingly "normal" family

୨ৎ : genre : comedy ୨ৎ : word count : 2471

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ 10k event | masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : im still ctfu at the fact they had carlos at fucking home depot 😭 bro was regretting his life choices in that moment deadass...

ʚ・max verstappen

you warned max. repeatedly.

“my family’s loud,” you said. “they ask personal questions. they hug. a lot.”

and max, ever the picture of calm, just nodded and said, “it’s fine. i’m fine.”

he was not fine.

not when your aunt opened the door mid-sentence about how “finally, this one brought home someone decent-looking.”

not when your cousin asked him five minutes in, “so how much do you really make?” followed by, “can i sit in the car?”

and definitely not when your grandmother cornered him in the kitchen and asked, “do you believe in marriage?”

you found him on the patio, clutching a glass of water like it was holding him together. he looked at you with wide, desperate eyes.

“are they always like this?” he whispered.

you fought a grin. “it’s not personal. that’s just how they love.”

“i think your uncle’s trying to set me up with your mom.”

you laughed and reached for his hand. “you’re doing great.”

“your dad just asked me if i’m ‘emotionally stable.’ i think i failed that one.”

you squeezed his hand. “you’re fine. my dad asks everyone that.”

he sighed, finally relaxing a little. “okay. okay. i just… i didn’t expect the aunties to ask when we’re having kids before i even got through dessert.”

“oh, they will be asking that until the end of time,” you said with a smile. “you’ll get used to it.”

he looked at you, really looked at you, then nodded. “worth it,” he muttered, pulling you closer. “barely survived, but… worth it.”

you rested your head on his shoulder. “you sure?”

“yeah.” he smirked. “just maybe don’t leave me alone with your grandma again. she’s terrifying.”

“she’s 4’11”.”

“and somehow scarier than my father.”

you laughed into his neck. he pressed a soft kiss to your hair and added, “next time i’m bringing dutch snacks. bribe tactic.”

smart man.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

lewis showed up to your parents’ house holding a neatly wrapped container of homemade banana bread and the kind of bouquet that made every woman in the room pause. he greeted your mom with a warm “hi, ma’am,” and your dad with a firm handshake and a perfectly timed “sir, it’s great to finally meet you.”

basically? he was ready.

and yet… you could still tell he was a little nervous.

you caught him straightening his sleeves and glancing your way when your dad started asking him about “career plans” and “future intentions.”

“so… do you ever plan to slow down?” your dad asked over dinner, raising his eyebrow slightly.

lewis smiled, totally composed on the surface. “i think when you find something that makes the fast pace worth it… slowing down becomes part of the dream.”

your dad paused. your mom swooned. you kicked lewis under the table.

later, you found him in the kitchen helping your mom do dishes — sleeves rolled up, casually chatting about travel and vegan recipes while drying plates like he lived there.

you leaned on the counter beside him, smirking. “so… you good?”

he glanced at you, voice low. “your dad’s got that i’ll bury you in the backyard vibe.”

you laughed. “he does.”

“he asked if i knew how to fix a leaky sink.”

“you don’t.”

“i said yes.”

you blinked. “you lied to my dad?”

he grinned. “no. i’ll youtube it later. if he tests me, i’m passing.”

you stared at him, speechless.

he leaned in and kissed your cheek. “i told you — i came prepared.”

that night, when you finally got a moment alone, he wrapped his arms around you and whispered, “they’re lovely. you’re lovely. i’d do it again.”

you looked up at him. “even the interrogation?”

he smirked. “especially that part. made me realize just how serious i am about you.”

you kissed him slowly, smiling against his lips. “my mom’s already planning a second dinner. just so you know.”

“cool,” he whispered. “i’ll bring more banana bread.”

ʚ・george russell

george showed up early. like… twenty minutes early. dressed in a collared shirt that made your aunt whisper “he’s posh” and holding a bottle of wine that cost way more than necessary.

“be cool,” you whispered as you opened the door.

“i am cool,” he said through a smile that was clearly three seconds from cracking.

inside, it began.

your dad sized him up with a handshake that lingered just long enough to be a test. george passed with a polite smile and a crisp “sir.” your mom offered tea and he accepted it with a “thank you, ma’am” like he’d been trained by royalty.

you watched him like a hawk as dinner started. he complimented the food (twice). asked your grandmother about her garden. said things like “actually, i read something about that recently” to your uncle’s conspiracy theories.

but you could feel the tension in his shoulders every time someone said “so tell us about formula 1.”

by the time dessert hit the table, he leaned over to you and whispered, “i don’t think i’ve blinked since we arrived.”

you giggled, squeezing his knee. “you’re doing amazing.”

he gave you a dry look. “your grandfather just asked if i know how to use a shovel. what does that mean?”

“it means he likes you.”

george blinked. “i’m terrified.”

after dinner, your dad pulled him aside. you watched from the kitchen, heart thumping, as they stood on the back porch talking. george nodded. smiled. laughed once — nervously. you bit into your lip.

ten minutes later, he walked back in and said casually, “your dad invited me golfing next weekend.”

your jaw dropped. “he what?”

george looked proud, smug even. “told you i was cool.”

you snorted, pulling him into a hug. “you over-prepared for this, didn’t you?”

“i rehearsed answers on the plane.”

you laughed. “you’re ridiculous.”

“and you’re worth it,” he said simply, kissing your temple.

that night, when your mom whispered, “we really like him,” you just grinned and said, “yeah. me too.”

ʚ・carlos sainz

carlos was already charming before he even said a word — all polite smiles and “thank you for having me” as he handed your mom flowers and shook your dad’s hand with that practiced ease. but the moment he opened his mouth with a soft, “hola, mucho gusto,” the entire room changed.

your aunt leaned across the table. “did he just say ‘moo-cho goost-oh’? that’s beautiful.”

you blinked. “he said ‘nice to meet you.’”

“still.”

carlos shot you a look that said, what’s happening, and you just gave him a helpless smile.

the questions started flowing over dinner — about spain, about racing, about how you met. carlos answered each one with that smooth, careful english he used in interviews, his accent thick enough to make your cousins nudge each other every time he said something as basic as “pasta.”

but then your mom asked, sweet and innocent, “can you say something to us in spanish?”

carlos paused. “like… what?”

“anything!” your aunt chirped. “it just sounds so… passionate!”

you nearly choked on your water. carlos blinked once, then raised an eyebrow and said, voice low and syrupy, “esta cena está deliciosa. gracias por prepararla.”

your aunt gasped.

your mom blushed.

your uncle muttered, “i gotta learn a new language.”

carlos sat there, looking like he wanted the ground to swallow him.

later, when you pulled him aside in the kitchen while your family was still swooning, he leaned into your ear and whispered, “they think i’m some kind of telenovela star.”

you snorted, trying not to laugh. “that’s what you get for having a sexy voice.”

“i said dinner was good,” he hissed.

“and you could’ve said it in english.”

“they asked!”

you leaned up and kissed his cheek. “welcome to my family.”

he sighed, but smiled, hands resting on your hips. “i like them.”

“they love you.”

he grinned. “yeah, well… tell your aunt i’m taken.”

ʚ・charles leclerc

charles fidgeted the entire car ride there. fixing the sleeve of his sweater. checking if the wine bottle was still wrapped right. asking if he should’ve shaved more closely even though he looked perfect.

you reached across the console and squeezed his hand. “you’re gonna be fine.”

“i just want them to like me,” he said softly, glancing over at you with those too-honest eyes. “not as ‘charles leclerc,’ just… as me.”

“they will,” you said. “because you’re exactly what i hoped they’d see me with.”

the second you walked in, your family swarmed, not in a bad way, but in that loving, slightly overwhelming way that made charles laugh nervously and tighten his grip on your hand.

he greeted everyone politely, warmly, his accent curling gently around every word. when your dad reached for a handshake, charles brought a second hand up to cup it, respectful. present. real.

dinner started slow. questions flew... racing, monaco, “is ferrari really like the movies?” and charles answered all of them humbly, brushing past the fame and turning everything into a story about his teammates, his brothers, or you.

“you must be under a lot of pressure all the time,” your mom said gently, passing him a serving spoon.

he nodded, smile soft. “sometimes, yes. but being around her makes it quieter.”

you kicked him lightly under the table. he winked at you.

after dinner, you found him in the living room — sitting beside your dad, deep in conversation. they weren’t talking racing. they were talking about piano.

“i used to play, too,” your dad said. “nothing like you, of course.”

“i bet you were good,” charles said. “do you still play?”

your dad smiled. “not in a long time.”

charles nodded, thoughtful. “you should. music… it’s like breathing when the rest is too loud.”

you watched your dad nod, quieter now, eyes warmer.

later, walking to the car, charles exhaled like he’d been holding his breath all evening. “so?”

“they love you,” you said.

he blinked. “really?”

you wrapped your arm around his. “really.”

he let out a soft laugh, head tilted slightly as he looked down at you.

“i’m glad. because i think about doing this a lot. showing up. meeting the people that made you… you.”

and he said it so simply, so sincerely, that you stopped in your tracks and kissed him right there.

just him. not charles leclerc, the driver.

just your charles.

ʚ・lando norris

“stop adjusting your hoodie. you look fine.”

“i’m not adjusting it. i’m…should i have worn this?”

you smirked as lando ran a hand through his hair for the fifth time in the last two minutes. “you race literal cars for a living and this is what’s got you sweating?”

he shot you a look. “i can’t crash in front of your mum, can i?”

you rang the doorbell and he visibly tensed. “babe, i swear to god, if your dad pulls out the dad-jokes or the shovel metaphors…”

you just grinned. “too late.”

he did surprisingly well at first, polite hellos, a slightly-too-firm handshake with your dad, handing your mom flowers with an “i googled what mums like, is this okay?” that made her instantly adore him.

then your little cousin asked, “are you famous?” and everything started unraveling.

lando laughed nervously. “uh. no. i mean. some people think so. but i’m just lando. not that cool.”

“is he always like this?” your cousin whispered not-so-quietly, and lando turned bright red.

you pulled him into the kitchen under the pretense of “helping with drinks.”

“they’re judging me,” he hissed.

“they’re watching you,” you corrected. “it’s different.”

“i made a joke about tires and your uncle asked if i think i’m top gear. i don’t even know what i meant.”

you giggled, handing him a tray of cups. “just be yourself.”

“okay, but myself just accidentally called your granddad boss man.”

you stared. “you what.”

“he looked powerful!”

he ended up winning everyone over, slowly but surely, making the kids laugh with stories from karting, helping your mom carry in dessert while balancing a tiny dog in one arm, and nodding along with whatever your dad was saying even though you knew he didn’t understand half of it.

later, as you sat together on the couch, your cousin whispered to you again, “he’s kinda weird.”

you smiled, watching lando lean his head on your shoulder, eyes already drooping. “yeah,” you said. “he really is.”

then: “but he’s our weird.”

lando blinked up at you, dazed. “was that good or bad?”

you kissed his forehead. “you passed. barely.”

he grinned. “i’ll take it.”

ʚ・oscar piastri

oscar was calm the entire way to your parents’ house. calm like it was a race day morning. smooth posture, clean shirt, holding a bottle of wine like he rehearsed it.

“you good?” you asked.

“yeah,” he said. “just… mentally preparing for polite interrogation.”

the door opened before you could answer and your mom greeted him like she’d already decided to adopt him.

oscar offered the wine with a soft smile. “thank you for having me. it’s really nice to meet you.”

polite. perfect. predictable.

for the first thirty minutes, he was quiet and courteous. said all the right things. yes sir. no ma’am. thank you. that’s lovely. you watched your family size him up like he was made of glass.

then your uncle tried to make a dad joke.

and oscar just… blinked. “i think i lost brain cells hearing that.”

the whole table froze.

oscar took a bite of salad like he hadn’t just murdered a grown man’s punchline in cold blood.

your dad laughed first. then everyone followed.

you stared at him.

oscar glanced at you and said under his breath, “you warned me about questions. you didn’t warn me about that.”

from then on, it was like your family unlocked a new version of him. still calm, still respectful, but sharper now. teasing replies. dry sarcasm. perfectly timed reactions. he was roasting your cousin gently and complimenting your grandma’s cooking in the same sentence.

later, as dessert was being passed around, your mom leaned toward you and whispered, “he’s quiet, but he’s funny. like sneaky funny.”

you just smiled. “he does that.”

after dinner, your dad pulled him aside to talk. you watched from the kitchen as they stood on the porch, oscar nodding thoughtfully while your dad talked animatedly about something you could not make out.

when he came back in, you raised an eyebrow. “what did he say?”

oscar smirked. “he said if i ever mess up, you know where he keeps the shovel.”

your eyes widened. “you took that well.”

“i told him i know how to drive fast and disappear.”

you blinked.

he shrugged, then leaned in close. “relax. i smiled when i said it.”

and you knew, then and there, that your dad was probably already planning to invite him back.

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[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.

[mggslover]

Stuck

In which reader finds herself stuck in an elevator with her colleagues.

Pairing: Hotch x Reid x Morgan x Fem!BAU!Reader Genre: smut (18+) Content warnings: fingering, oral (f and m receiving), face riding, p in v sex, overstimulation, masturbation, breast play Word count: 5,4k A/n: I'm ovulating, so you know what time it is 🤭 I'm really nervous to post this, so I hope you will enjoy!

“Oh, you guys are such babies!” You laugh as Spencer and Derek refuse to step into the elevator, explaining how they’ve been stuck in one before. 

“It’s not funny, Y/N,” Spencer chimes in. “There are six elevator deaths per year. Not to mention ten thousand injuries that require hospitalization.”   

You roll your eyes at his comment, just as Hotch walks toward the elevator. “See!” You exclaim. “Hotch is joining us, and he saved you last time. We’ll be fine.” You add cheerfully.

“You’re coming?” Hotch asks, holding the elevator door open. You nod, pulling Morgan and Reid with you by their arms. 

You chuckle at their nervous reflections in the mirror as the elevator starts moving. A sudden creak causes Derek to snap his head towards you. “It made the same sound the last time!” You were just about to shut Derek up as the elevator shakes and the lights start flickering. 

“Not again!” Spencer whimpers, his eyes squeezed shut like he’s about to fall to his death at any given moment.

Hotch inspects the tight space, his expression grim. “It seems like the electricity went out…” 

“Actually, there are a lot of reasons why an elevator might stop,” Spencer interjects. “It could be worn-out suspension ropes, and it actually happens quite regularly that the motor overheats the safety sensors of the-“ 

“Let’s just solve this problem, shall we?” You cut him off, nudging Morgan out of the way to hit the red button on the panel. 

“You think that’ll do something?” Morgan asks, brow lifted. 

“It will alert someone that we’re stuck. We have to wait until somebody comes and gets us out of here.” Hotch adds. 

“Well at least I’ll be missing my meeting with Strauss,” I sigh in relief. 

“It was at twelve, right?” Spencer asks. 

“Yeah,” you respond with a nod.

“Statistically the average wait time to be rescued from an elevator is less than an hour,” Spencer continues, checking his watch. “That means you could still make it in time.” 

“Now that’s just what I wanted to hear,” you say sarcastically, earning a grin from Morgan. 

“We can only hope we won’t be in here for that long,” Hotch mutters, his impatience visible as he leans uncomfortably against the elevator doors. 

“Okay… so now what? Want to go over a case to pass the time?” 

“No, no cases please,” Morgan groans. “We’ve had three in a row. I’m done.” 

“Morgan is right. We’ve done enough cases in the past few days.” Hotch agrees. 

You mutter an “alright” as you sit down with your back against the elevator wall, smoothing out the crinkles in your skirt. The others look at you with uncertainty. Eventually Reid decides to sit next to you, exchanging a soft smile. Morgan follows suit, sitting in front of you. Hotch remains standing. You leave him be and turn to Spencer. 

“So Reid, I’m sure you’ve got enough interesting facts to pass the time.” 

Spencer looks surprised by the request, not used to directly being asked to share his facts, but his eyes quickly brighten, eager to share. “Well, actually, there are a lot of interesting things to say about elevators. There are approximately 20 million elevators worldwide,” you chuckle at his obvious enthusiasm. “The first elevator was created in 236 B.C. by Archimedes, a Greek mathematician. He used a water wheel and tied animals together with rope to create a lift mechanism.” You hum in interest. “They used lifts in the Colosseum, right?” 

“Yes! Exactly!” he responds excitedly. “The system was powered by eight men who would turn this massive wooden shaft connected to ropes. It could hold more than 600 pounds!” 

“Oh come on,” Derek says, his hand falling to his knee. “You’re telling me you’re actually interested in the mechanics of ancient elevators?”. 

Hotch glances at Morgan, silently agreeing with Derek’s skepticism. 

“Derek Morgan…” you feign offense, placing a hand on your chest. “Don’t act like I’m not curious about knowledge. At least Spence’s got something interesting to say.” 

Spencer blushes faintly, appreciating your defense. 

“Hey, I know facts too,” Morgan says smugly. “How about there being 7000 languages in the world today.” 

“The overall number is actually closer to 8000,” Spencer corrects him. “You only counted verbal communication.” 

“You guys are going to have a facts competition now?” You ask, bewildered. “It’s way too hot in here. I need some light conversation.”

“I agree,” Hotch mutters. “It is getting a little warm.”

You glance up at the AC in the corner of the elevator, which is clearly not working. It probably shut down along with the power. There’s a brief silence before Reid speaks up again. 

“I never thought I’d be trapped in an elevator with my colleagues,” he muses. “It’s a little cliché.”

“Cliche, how?” Hotch asks, intrigued despite himself. 

“You know how, in movies, a group of people get stuck in an elevator and they have to learn to overcome their differences to escape?” 

You shake your head in confusion, “I think I only know the dirty movies where they get stuck in an elevator,” you laugh. 

Spencer blinks at you, clearly thrown off. Derek chuckles at the scene, and even Hotch manages a faint smile. 

“I should’ve known you’ve only watched the dirty ones,” Derek teases. 

“What about you, pretty boy?  Ever seen a dirty movie?” He asks Spencer, grinning. 

Reid looks flustered. “I grew up in Vegas… I’ve seen some things.” 

“Ah, Vegas,” you say, sighing dreamily. “The place where you can’t drive for a minute without seeing a giant porn billboard.”

Morgan grins, leaning back with a satisfied sigh. “Sounds like my kind of place.” 

You laugh and kick his leg playfully. Morgan winks at you, enjoying the lighthearted banter. You glance up at Hotch, who is still the only one standing. 

“What about you, Hotch? What’s your favorite dirty movie?” You ask with a mischievous grin, but your expression quickly drops when you see his stern look. 

“Watch it, Y/L/N.” Hotch warns.

“Come on, Hotch,” Derek says. “Let loose a little!”

“See it as the universe’s sign.” I press on. 

“How is being stuck in here a sign of the universe?” Hotch asks, brows raised.

“Well, no way would you willingly take a break yourself. Now the universe got you stuck in here and is forcing you to relax,” you explain, with a playful gleam in your eyes. 

To everyone’s surprise, he slowly lowers himself to the floor, sitting down next to you. 

You exchange surprised looks with Derek and Spencer. All amazed at how you managed to get Hotch to sit down.

The next few minutes are spent in comfortable silence, scared to say something that will make Hotch change his mind. You’re glad he joined you, but it’s hard to ignore the rising temperature now that another person is sitting in close proximity to you. 

“How long has it been?” you ask, fanning yourself with your blazer. “I’m starting to sweat.”

“Thirty-five minutes so far,” Derek replies, following your lead and fanning himself. 

Hotch looks mildly uncomfortable, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Spencer, however, looks the most miserable using the collar of his sweater vest to wipe his face. 

“You guys should take your jackets off,” you suggest, eyeing Morgan and Hotch. 

You don’t need to tell Derek twice, as he removes his jacket, revealing a black short sleeved shirt that looks a lot more comfortable. Hotch looks reluctant to do the same, but eventually gives in, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt collar. You take a peak as he reveals his broad, muscled shoulders for a moment, before readjusting his shirt. Hotch notices your glance and his eyes shoot up to yours, catching you in the moment as your cheeks flush. You quickly look away. 

“Oh, she’s enjoying the view, alright,” Derek smirks and you give him a warning glance.

“Shut up. I was just surprised Hotch would give in.” 

Morgan grins and nudges Hotch with his elbow, “Look at that, Hotch. You’re surprising us all today. First you smile and now you’re taking your jacket off. What’s next, dancing a jig?” You and Spencer snort at his comment. Hotch rolls his eyes at Morgan’s teasing but can’t help a small smile from appearing on his lips. 

Spencer struggles with his vest and you give him a hand. “Here, let me help you”, you say as you scoot closer, pulling the vest over his head. The fabric feels soft, but incredibly warm in your hands. You don’t know how he managed to keep it on for this long. Reid is taken aback for a moment, but mutters a soft thanks. Morgan and Hotch watch the exchange with interest, clearly amused at the sight of you being so forward with Reid.

“Now it’s your turn, you’re the one who insisted,” Morgan states, and you can’t help but agree as you take your blazer off, giving a satisfied hum at the immediate relief.

“I’ll open up some buttons too, if you don’t mind,” you announce as your fingers start working on your blouse. You don’t give them a chance to respond, since it seems only fair. Their eyes widen at your gesture, all of them staring at the sight of your blouse slightly opening up. Morgan lets out a low whistle, “Now that’s a nice view.”

“You’re insufferable,” you scoff as you stop unbuttoning, showing just a hint of your lacy bra. Morgan’s eyes linger on the sight, clearly enjoying the view. Hotch and Reid look like they’re struggling to keep their cool. Reid is the most flustered of all, turning bright red as he focuses on his hands. Morgan glances around at the others, seeing them struggle to keep themselves composed. 

He chuckles and shakes his head, enjoying the effect you’re having on them. “You know, you’re driving all of us a little crazy here, sweetheart.” 

You let out a small huff, “Give me a break. You’re wearing shortsleeves, I’m the one wearing a blouse.” 

Hotch speaks up, his gaze lingering on your blouse. “That blouse does seem a bit warm.” 

“Thank you!” You say, glad someone is on your side. 

Hotch eyes stay focused on you though, or specifically the bit of exposed collarbone and the lace that’s hugged around the swell of your breast. Your breathing heaves when you find Spencer taking occasional peaks as well, watching with a mixture of awe and embarrassment, finding difficulty in looking away. 

“Let’s just all take our shirts off, I want it to be fair”, you quickly exclaim, done with the heavy tension that’s driving you crazy. Hotch and Morgan exchange amused glances as Spencer eyes turn big, taking in your proposal. 

“All our shirts, are you sure about that?” Derek asks, a hint of surprise in his voice. 

“Then at least you won’t eye me like that.” 

“Oh, I think I’ll eye you only more.” Derek teases, licking his lips. 

“Just take your damn shirt off.” 

Derek chuckles and raises his hands in surrender, “Alright, alright. No need to get feisty.” He says as he lifts his shirt off in a smooth motion. It’s a known fact that Derek is jacked, but seeing him in a setting like this, abs glistening with sweat and pupils still dilated from looking at you, is on a whole ‘nother level. 

You’re glad the attention is taken away from your peering eyes as Hotch follows suit, unbuttoning his shirt, revealing a clearly defined muscular chest with just a hint of hair. You start doubting your suggestion as it feels like the room is only growing hotter. You look over at Spencer, seeing whether he’ll be the next. Spencer hesitates for a moment, his eyes darting between the other’s bare chests and your unbuttoned blouse. His chest heaving with his breath, suggesting that he’s more affected than he’s letting on. 

“Come on, pretty boy. Join the party.” Derek says.

“I’ll go first,” you assure Spencer, not wanting him to suffer under peer pressure. Your hands start working on the buttons. Spencer’s eyes widened at the scene in front of him.

“See, it’s not that hard,” you reassure Spencer, folding your blouse and placing it next to you. 

“I don’t know about that. You’re making things pretty hard, baby girl.” Morgan comments, making you laugh. 

“You’re way too dirty for your own good.” 

Morgan grins. “Can you blame me? I mean, look at you. You’re looking mighty tempting right now.”

You softly smile at the compliment and focus back on Spencer. “You’ll feel a lot cooler, I promise,” you encourage. 

“I don’t know. I’m not as… toned as the others.” It hurts you to hear how he’s comparing himself to his colleagues. 

“Do you truly think I care about that?” You ask him. “It’s not a competition. I just want you to feel comfortable,” you speak genuinely. Spencer looks up at you, his eyes searching yours for any signs of mockery or deception. When he finds none, his face softens and he nods. He lifts his shirt over his head, revealing a body no less impressive than the others. 

“Not too bad, pretty boy. You’re looking pretty good without that vest on.” Derek compliments. 

“You do,” You agree, as you fold his shirt and place it on top of my blouse. Spencer gives you a sheepish smile, grateful for your help. Glad he decided to take his shirt off as he felt the cool air hit his chest, “Yeah, that does feel better.” 

You look around the room, the scene for sure one to be put down in the history books of the BAU. “I think it’s safe to say we’ve entered a new step in our colleague bonding,” you awkwardly chuckle, trying to lighten the mood but the air feels charged with an unspoken tension that’s impossible to ignore. You can feel their eyes on you, the way they linger, the weight of their gazes following your every movement. You try to ignore it, to stay professional, but your body betrays you. You shift slightly, adjusting your skirt, and that’s when you feel it - the subtle brush of Hotch’s fingers caressing your arm.

You swallow hard as you look away. The air around you is suddenly too tight. You want to curse your body as your nipples harden under his steady gaze, there being no way to blame it on the cold. Derek notices the exchange and leans in, the heat between you two palpable. 

His voice is low and husky, “You're all worked up, sweetheart. Don’t think we haven’t noticed.” 

Your pulse quickens, the sound of your heartbeat almost drowning out his words. “I’m not the only one,” you counter, voice quieter, but the challenge in it is unmistakable. You feel Spencer shift next to you, his body tense as he feels like he’s been caught staring at your chest. “Don’t be shy, genius,” Derek teases. “We’re all thinking the same thing right now.” You can’t help but smile at Spencer’s flustered look. “It’s… It’s hard not to, when you-” He cuts himself off, his voice faltering as his eyes dart away from your breasts. 

Hotch is still standing by the door, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watches the dynamic play out. “We’ve been stuck in here long enough. I think it’s safe to say we all want and feel the same thing.” The air thickens with desire as he dares to say the thought that’s been occupying everyone’s mind. You glance at the others, seeing how Spencer is adjusting himself in his pants and the way Derek is watching you, his gaze so intense it almost feels like he’s touching you. 

“Guess it’s only fair if we all just… give in to it,” you murmur, your eyes flicking between them. The suggestion is there, unspoken but understood. 

From there on everything feels like a blur. You hear Hotch growl behind you as he wraps his bicep around your neck, pulling you in as his lips crash against yours. You whimper against his mouth, which gives him the opportunity to let his tongue slide in. You welcome his tongue with yours as your hand moves to squeeze the arm around your neck, making full use of the circumstances to feel up on his muscles. 

“You’re always driving me crazy when wearing this skirt,” Hotch groans in your ear as his teeth pull on your earlobe. You can find no other way to respond than let out a high pitched sound of enjoyment as his free hand kneads your ass through your pencil skirt. Spencer watches the scene unfold in front of him. How his boss roughly grabs and kisses you, manhandling you. 

 “I- I don’t know about this…” Spencer stammers. 

Morgan turns to him, breaking the intense gaze he had on you and Hotch. “Don’t worry Reid, she’s enjoying it.” 

“Are you sure?” Spencer asks, uncertainty in his voice as Hotch is pulling on your hair, giving him access to plant kisses and bites on your neck. 

Morgan grins, “Let me show you how sure I am,” he says as he steps towards you and Hotch. He rolls your skirt up to your stomach and lets his fingers slide over your panties, cursing when it easily slips between your folds, creating a wet sound. You moan at the friction, not in the state to feel embarrassed by how wet you are. 

“See Reid, she loves it,” Derek points out, licking his lips as he pulls your damp panties to the side. Spencer lets out a groan as Derek reveals your glistening pussy, his hand subconsciously squeezing the bulge in his pants for any form of release.

“Let me see,” Hotch insists, removing his lips from your neck. Derek slides a finger through your folds and proudly displays the stickiness to Hotch. 

“You’re such a little slut, aren’t you?,” Hotch whispers, his nose pressed against the side of your face. “Just been begging to get in a situation like this so we could all fuck you the way you deserve.” You whimper at his dirty words and hot breath on your skin. Your legs feel like jelly as he grinds himself against your ass. Derek continues to apply pressure with his hand as he lets his fingers rub up and down your lips and clit. 

Spencer’s eyes are burning holes in your chest. He just can’t understand how no one has touched your lovely tits, while they’ve been teasing him the entire time. 

“You can come here Spence,” you purr, hypnotizing him to walk towards you. He swallows as he’s close enough to touch you, close enough to hear all the little sounds you’re making as you’re being touched all over. 

“Can I-?” You don’t let Spencer finish his question as you quickly nod, throwing your head back as his finger grazes over your nipple, sending a direct spark of pleasure to your clit. 

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers mostly to himself in awe as he cups your breast, the shape fitting perfectly in his large hand. 

“Thank you,” you whisper back. It’s ironic how his sweet compliment is the thing that's making you shy.

Derek slips a finger inside of you with ease, and you bite your lip to hold back your mewls. “Don’t do that. I like the way you sound.” Spencer encourages, resulting in another moan from you, loving the effect his words have on you. 

Hotch unclasps your bra from behind and Spencer helps him by pulling your straps down, letting your breasts fall free. Hotch grabs your left breast, kneading it with his strong, calloused hands as he rolls your nipple in between his fingers. Spencer uses the momentary distraction to bend down and experimentally licks your nipple, humming at the sensation. He gives a couple more licks to your breast as he pulls your nipple in between his lips, sucking on it as he flicks his tongue against the sensitive bud. 

You feel overwhelmed by the way all of your erogenous zones are stimulated at once; Hotch licking and biting on your neck and ear, while massaging your breast and grinding his hardness against your ass. Spencer’s swollen lips and wet tongue tracing over your nipple as Derek caresses your thighs as he adds a second finger into your pussy. You realize that this is what pleasure is supposed to be like. The zones on your body are all connected and you haven’t experienced true bliss until those spots get triggered at the same time. 

“Morgan, is she ready?” Hotch asks, breathing heavily. 

“More than ready, sir,” Derek grins as he takes a step back. He lets his fingers slide out of you, making you whimper at the loss of contact, but then Hotch turns you around so that your chest is pressed up against the elevator doors where he was standing. 

“I need you for myself,” he groans. Derek tosses a condom from his jeans and Hotch catches it, ripping the package with his teeth while pulling his trousers down to his knees, not wanting to let a single moment go to waste. Your hands are pressed against the wall as he slowly enters you. 

“Oh my god… I feel so full,” you whine and you swear you could feel him grin as you register that he’s not even fully inside of you. You let out a long breath as you feel his balls make contact with your ass. 

“You’re doing okay there, princess?” Derek chuckles and you nod. Hotch slowly moves his length out of you as he slams his hips back in with a groan. You gasp as you wrap your hand around the back of his head, keeping yourself steady as he continues thrusting into you. His growls feel hot against your neck. His sweaty chest pressed up against your back, leaving you completely in his grasp.

“You feel that angel? How your pussy swallows my cock?” You let out a cry as you nod your head in agreement. 

“I don’t understand Y/N. You’re a big girl, use your words.” 

“Oh god…’’ Your head spins as he pounds into you. “I’m not going to tell you again Y/N, use your words.” He orders. 

“Yes!’’ you cry out. ‘’God yes Aaron, it feels so good. I can feel you so deep inside of me.” 

“Say my name again.” He moans as his hand trails down your stomach until it reaches your swollen bud. “Aaron, please… I’m so, so close.” He gives some quick taps to your clit, making you squirm in pleasure as your knees give out. His strong hands grip you by the waist and he hoists you back up on his dick. “I’m almost there honey, you can keep it up, be good for me.” 

You let out a string of whines as he uses the palm of his hand to swiftly move against your folds, indirectly bringing pleasure to your clit. You can’t take it any more, pressing your nails into his arms as you crouch down in front of him, shaking as your release hits you. Hotch groans loudly as his dick slips out of your pussy. His dick twitches as he takes off the condom, painting your back with hot spurts of cum.

You have your eyes closed, trying to catch your breath as you’re still riding down your orgasm. You hum as you feel the soft material of Spencer’s sweater vest against your back, cleaning you up. 

“You okay?” Spencer asks, kneeled in front of you. You nod your head and softly smile at his tenderness. 

“Yeah. I feel really, really good.” You answer, making Spencer return your smile. With him in front of you, you notice the visible outline of his bulge pressed against his thigh and reach out to touch it. Your fingers lightly brush over his length, causing him to shudder. 

“Do you want me to take care of you?” You ask sensually, looking in his eyes. 

“Not really,” he responds, taking you by surprise. He sees your expression and quickly corrects himself. “It’s not like I don’t want you to! I’d- I’d love you to do…”, he’s not actually sure what you planned on doing to him. “Whatever you would do. I just-,” his voice softens, meeting your gaze. “I really need to know what you taste like.” 

Your cheeks warm, feeling your arousal grow. “Okay,” you exhale. Spencer extends his hand, helping you up. You find your blazer and bundle it up for Spencer to lay his head on. You’re amazed at how willing he is to get down on the floor, ready to eat you out in a very nontraditional and arguable unsanitized way. You hover over his face as you get down on your knees, letting out a hum as his breath tingles your pussy. Spencer kneads your calves and runs his hands up the back of your thighs. He tilts his head up, placing a wet kiss on your inner thigh.

“Feels good,” you mumble. Spencer responds with a hum against your skin, the vibration causing you to moan. He grabs your thighs, slowly pulling them further apart. “I can’t wait to taste you,” he admits, sticking out his tongue and licking a stripe up your folds. You moan, arching your back. Through hooded eyes you spot the figure of Hotch. He’s sitting against the wall in front of you, lazily stroking his half hard length as he stares at you. 

Just when you were about to question where Morgan was, you catch him in your periphery. He holds your gaze as he approaches, coming to a stop right in front of you. His belt buckle hangs open, but it doesn’t look like he’s touched himself. 

“If you don’t mind, I’d really like to take up on that offer genius here denied.” You grin at him, hands reaching out to his belt. Spencer is keeping himself busy, licking and sucking up your juices. You pull Derek’s pants down, gasping as his dick springs free, slapping against his happy trail. You groan in delight as you wrap your hand around his shaft. He tilts his head back at the contact. “Fuck baby, your hands feel so warm and soft.” You lean forward and let some of your spit dribble down on his dick, making him hiss. You move your thumb in circles over his tip, mixing your saliva with his precum. When it feels like it’s wet enough, you move your hand up and down his length in a steady motion.

His tip grows red and you cannot resist licking your lips before putting your mouth on him. He feels heavy in your mouth as you take him in deeper, stimulating him with your tongue as you suck. His hands tangle in your hair, holding you as he moves in sync with your movements. 

Spencer moves a hand up the curve of your ass while he uses the other to unbuckle his belt. He slides his hand in his pants, rubbing himself over his boxers as he relishes in your taste. His lips nibble on your labia as his nose tickles against your clit. 

“Don’t get distracted, baby girl,” Derek states, softly pushing your head back down. You swallow around him and try to up your pace. Derek takes your breast in his hand, massaging it. As your nipples harden he takes one in between his fingers, pulling on it. You gasp at the sensation, making his dick slide deeper down your throat. 

“Fuck! Right there baby, that feels so good,” he pants. You blink away tears, continuing the steady movement of your head and swirls of your tongue. 

Spencer’s dick starts feeling too hot in his boxers and he pulls it out, so that it lays against his stomach. Your pussy is absolutely dripping because of the swipes of Spencer’s tongue and the taste of Derek in your mouth. Spencer can’t keep up with licking you clean, your wetness dripping down his chin. He reaches out to grab his length, the skin to skin contact overstimulating him. 

You notice Spencer getting restless underneath you. Derek’s dick pops out of your mouth. “Are you okay, Spence?” You ask. He hums against your clit in response, you let out a high pitched moan and instinctively bend your knees. “Sorry,” you apologize as you want to tilt your hips back up, but Spencer pulls you back down by your thighs, making you sit on his face.

“Oh god…” You moan as he starts devouring you. He keeps a hand firm on your ass as he starts jerking himself off to the beautiful sounds that you’re making. You lazily tug on Derek’s cock, too distracted by Spencer’s tongue. 

“Oh Spencer, I’m going to cum,” you whimper, mouth open and brows furrowed in pleasure. You start grinding yourself on his tongue, seeking your release. You find the perfect spot and Spencer presses the tip of his tongue against your clit, as you fall undone. Spencer laps up your juices and squeezes the load out of his dick as it splatters on his belly. You lift your hips to give Spencer some space. He moves away, joining you on his knees as he sits behind you, pressing featherlight kisses to your back. 

“I’m not gonna last that much longer,” Derek announces, who’s been stroking himself to your orgasm. “Come here, then,” you invite as you take him back in your mouth. Placing a hand on his thigh for support, you use all of the energy that is left in you to suck him off. Your free hand reaches out to play with his balls, which seems to be the trigger for him.

“Fuck, Y/N, baby, I’m going to cum!” He groans deeply as he fills your mouth. You quickly swallow his load, eyes watering as he pulls you in by your head, needing your lips on him as he rides out the aftershocks. 

“Fuck… You’re amazing, sweetheart.” He sighs, letting go of your hair so that you can catch your breath. 

-

“Who the hell is in there?” 

The voice outside is sharp and gruff. Everyone’s heads whip around, startled. Hotch swiftly buckles his belt as he strides towards the elevator doors.

“This is SSA Aaron Hotchner of the BAU. I’m stuck here with three of my agents.” 

The voice responds quickly, dripping with disbelief. "Why didn’t you morons use the emergency button?"

Your colleagues look at each other, then shift their gaze to you, all with accusing looks plastered on their faces.

"Hey, don’t look at me! I’m the first one that pressed the red button!" You say in defense. 

The voice outside huffs in frustration. "Red? It's a black button."

You blink in surprise, your gaze snapping to the panel. You crawl up to get a better look, and sure enough, there's a black button, boldly labeled ‘EMERGENCY.’

"What in the world?" you mutter under your breath. "Then what the hell is the red button for?!"

The voice outside laughs sarcastically. "How the hell am I supposed to know? I’ve been working here for six months. Don’t blame me because you can’t read." He pauses, clearly shaking his head. "FBI agents, my ass."

You blink in disbelief. You share an incredulous glance with Derek, then burst out laughing, your frustration giving way to amusement. "Seriously?" you mutter, shaking your head. 

Derek notices how Spencer’s been unusually quiet. “Speak up, kid,” he urged. 

“I’ve known what the buttons do the entire time,” he says, voice casual.

You and Hotch both turn to look at him, eyes wide. “What?!” You both exclaim at the same time. 

Spencer shrugs, a playful glint in his eyes. “I told you about those movies where people overcome their differences to try to escape. I wanted to see how we would solve it.”

Derek’s mouth drops open. “You’ve been sitting here the whole time knowing exactly what to do and didn’t say anything?!” 

Spencer smiles, looking almost proud of himself. “It’s a team-building exercise,” he says matter-of-factly. “Don’t tell me that you didn’t enjoy it.”

You shake your head, laughing in disbelief. “You’re unbelievable, Reid.”

As if on cue, the elevator jolts, and the soft ding of the doors opening fills the space.

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Tag Team (Deadpool/Wolverine)

Description: Wade is distracted during a mission so afterwards all 3 of them fuck in the Honda.

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 1,773

Request:

IM OBSESSED WITH WADE AND LOGAN AS A TEAM... May I request a smut where both of them fuck fem!Reader?

Idk reader could also be a hero and it happens during a mission, I trust your writing!!!

Wade had been distracted the entire mission. It was to the point that Logan was getting annoyed with him even more than usual. Y/N had no clue what they were fighting about but was also annoyed with both of them. “Can you guys shut the fuck up?” She growled at them. They both stopped arguing and looked at her, “Can you stop being so hot?” Wade asked. She rolled her eyes and put her finger to her mouth to shush him. “Yes mommy.” Logan looked at him with disgust.

Wade was a kinky son of a bitch but Logan never got used to it. They were trying to kill bad guys but Wade was about to ruin it. Y/N had been so into the mission she had failed to see both of them checking her out. She did have blood all over her but what was new? Wade and Logan both had it bad for the girl but Y/N was oblivious. Before Wade could say anything else the bad guys appeared and they had to kill.

Y/N shot at them, never missing. Logan clawed them up and managed to get more blood on them than before. Wade? Well he was still distracted and barely did anything, “WHAT THE FUCK, WADE?” Y/N yelled at him. She pulled him right out of his dirty thoughts. “Y/N and I just did all the work.” Logan added. “Well my bad that I can’t stop thinking about taking you both to a whole new world of pleasure.” Y/N stared at him with a blank look.

She was really tired of him acting like this, especially on a mission. “Well next time don’t come.” She said and walked away from him. Logan followed but not before growling at him. “Oh come on! You guys act like this isn’t hot as fuck.” He whined, catching up to them. “What’s hot about killing people, Wade?” “EVERYTHING!!” Y/N sighed and stopped walking. “Wade, I’m very flattered but now is not the time.” She said to him. “Wait so there’s a time?” He asked. She sighed and started walking again. 

The Honda Odyssey was the only “bed” that they had which sucked ass but it had to work. They all reeked of blood and guts but Wade couldn’t stop thinking about fucking Y/N in it. “So about earlier, is now the time?” He asked. Logan rolled his eyes and Y/N sighed. She sat up in the backseat and stared at him.

He was still wearing his mask and Logan took his off. “Wade, don’t you wanna fuck in a bed?” She asked, looking around the car. “Honey, I would fuck you in a volcano.” Yeah cuz that was a turn on. She looked at Logan, “What about you?” She asked him. He opened his eyes to look at her, “I wouldn’t fuck you in a volcano but this is all we have.” She laughed at his words and put her weapons on the floor.

“Alright guys. Let’s have some fun.” Wade was out of the car and to the backseat before she could finish her sentence. Logan got on the other side of her and she looked between them, “I’m not sure how this will wo-” Both of them attached their mouths to her neck. She gasped at the sudden action of them and she never noticed that Wade lifted his mask. Their lips moved sloppily on her neck, leaving marks. She gripped both of their necks and pulled them closer. They both placed a hand on her upper thigh and she leaned back against the seat, taking them with her.

Her eyes were closed as they marked her neck until she had purple spots. Logan moved down to her cleavage and Wade’s hand brushed against her pussy. She gasped at the feeling of both of them. Logan kissed and sucked the top of boob while Wade managed to get his fingers in her body suit to her bare pussy, “Holy shit.” She breathed out and he chuckled. “Ya like that princess?” Wade asked as his fingers rubbed her clit.

She was soaked and had been for a few hours now. Logan moved from her tit to the floor and spread her legs. “Move your fingers you Merc.” Logan said to Wade. Wade whined but did anyway so Logan could feast on her pussy. “Take this off.” He demanded her. She undid her body suit and Logan helped her get it off until she was fully naked in nothing but gloves and her boots. Logan chuckled as he looked at her wet pussy.

He sniffed her and sighed, “Fuck darling you smell delicious.” He told her and licked up her clit. She threw her head back and moaned. Wade watched as Logan ate her out and got even harder. He looked at Y/N who had her eyes closed and her breathing was harder. He leaned back too and turned her head towards him and kissed her. She weakly kissed back and moaned into his mouth. Logan was eating her out like an animal eating its first meal.

It was everything. Her hands gripped his hair making him moan into her pussy. The vibration made her whine and Wade stuck his tongue in her mouth. She let his tongue explore her mouth and Logan’s explored her pussy. Her hips bucked into his mouth and she shuddered at how close she was, “I’m gonna cum!” She whined into the kiss. “Cum on his beautiful face.” Wade told her and that did it. She fucked her hips up into his face and came all over. Wade praised her as she rode her sweet orgasm.

Logan flattened his tongue as she did all the work until the pleasure was gone. He pulled away from her pussy and smirked at her. She loved the sight of him covered in her cum. Wade did as well, “Damn wish that was me.” Logan got back onto the seat next to her and kissed her, giving her a taste. She moaned into his mouth. “Fuck that’s so hot.” Wade said. Y/N pulled away from the kiss and moved to kiss Wade giving him a taste as well. While they were kissing she took his mask off and threw it on the ground. Wade was never insecure around them.

They made him feel loved. She broke the kiss and moved in between his legs. He looked down in shock as she pulled out his dick. “Kiss.” She told them and without protest they did. She smirked as she watched for a second before running her pretty fingers over Wade’s cock. He gasped into the kiss. She wrapped her hand around him and jerked him off a few times before taking him into her mouth. Her mouth was the best thing to fuck.

It was wet and warm and felt so good. She placed her hands on his thighs and gave him the best blow job of his life. Wade was the loudest one out of the three of them. He fucked up into her mouth as the car rocked. The windows steamed up as they kissed and she gave him the best blow job ever. “Fuck. Your mouth is amazing, baby.” He moaned.

Logan watched as his dick went in and out of her mouth. Sure her mouth was good but her pussy was even better. Logan and Wade stopped kissing once Wade got really close. He threw his head back and cried out as he came in her throat. She pulled off of him and pulled Logan down for a kiss. She let Wade’s cum travel into Logan’s mouth and he swallowed. Wade gasped as he had never seen anything like that before.

Y/N smirked at him and got back in between them. “So I want all or nothing. You both have to be inside of me at the same time.” She says and they both nod before getting naked. She got on the center console of the car and they both managed to get their dicks in her at the same time. Their car was small but it managed to work. Y/N gasped at both of them penetrating her at the same time. Logan tried to let her adjust to the size but Wade didn’t care and started thrusting.

Her moans were loud inside the car and it felt very hot. Her jaw was dropped and her bloody hair was wet with sweat as well. Wade laid his head on the head of the carseat and groaned out. Logan who had more stanamia than both of them was fucking her fast and hard. Wade tried to keep up but it felt better this way.

“Shit you both are so fucking good.” She whined as one dick would hit her spot and then the other would right after. “You’re one to talk princess, your pussy is so perfect.” Wade groaned. Her moans turned to screams as she started thrusting back on them. The perfect rhythm began and all 3 of them were making loud noises. The heat of the car made things more intense.

Logan’s hand that was gripping one side of her hip was squeezing to the point of bruises. Y/N wished more than anything that she could see how fucked out they both looked but that was the con with doggy style. Especially in a small car. Wade groaned as he felt her pussy squeeze them, “Fuck princess, I’m about to cum.” He announced.

Y/N smirked before moaning as she squeezed them tighter cuz a loud moan to release from Logan. He barely moaned but when he did it was amazing and hot. “Fuck sweetheart, If you do that again I’m gonna cum too.” “That’s the plan.” She whimpered and squeezed them. “Where do ya want it, pretty girl?” “Inside of me. Both of you.” She cried as she too felt closer to the edge.

Wade groaned loudly as he came hard inside of her pretty pussy. Logan was a few seconds later and stilled behind her as he came. Y/N helped them ride it out as she came next screaming their names. The car smelled of sweat and sex as they both pulled out of her. Wade collapsed back against the seat and sighed, “Man I do love a good tag team after a crazy mission.” He said. Logan glared at him, “You didn’t even help.” Y/N turned around to look at the two. “Boys don’t start.” She warned and got in the middle of them. “Maybe if you guys are good we can go for round 2.” She smirked and brought them both in for a kiss.

[simpforboys]

Frat!Rafe teaching his sweet tutor how to kiss before her date…

warnings: kissing, suggestive(?)

"Hold on - you're telling me you've never kissed anyone?"

You nervously shake your head, chewing on your bottom lip.

You've been tutoring Rafe in statistics for about three weeks now. It's been going okay, mostly him flirting with you and you shyly laughing, thinking he's just messing around.

But now that you told the popular frat boy you have a date tonight with some Braden Langford, Rafe is curious to know what else you have or haven't done.

He's laying on your twin xl bed, making himself comfortable in your dorm room. You sit across from him in a crisscross, stats textbook on your lap with papers and a graphing calculator next to your thigh.

"Are you making fun of me?" You mumbled anxiously, starting to pick at your fingernails.

Rafe was the first boy to ever be in your room, technically the only person you've ever had in your room since you lived in a single and didn't really have other friends.

"No, baby. 'M jus' surprised," he murmured in disbelief.

It's quiet for a moment before he speaks up, something off in his alluring blue eyes. "Ya said you're goin' on a date t'night?"

You nod, doe-y eyes meeting his.

"He might try t'kiss ya, y'know," Rafe warns, trying to hide the jealousy building in his chest at the thought of his girl tutor going out with another guy.

You remain silent for a moment, blinking at the tall boy on your small bed. But then before your brain could process it, you were blurting out the request.

"Teach me?"

He looks at you for a moment, completely stunned, but also a small smirk curled onto his lips. You quickly tried to backtrack.

"I jus' mean that you kiss girls a lot and you have sex all the time and I don't know anybody else and --"

"Baby, shhh," he cuts off your rambling, the smirk now bigger.

"I'll teach ya how t'kiss, sweet girl. But y'gotta listen t'everythin' I say, mkay?"

You nod, face hot as he grabs the textbook off of your lap. You were already nervous enough as it is about going on your first date, now Rafe Cameron is going to teach you how to kiss?

"’M gonna put my hands ‘ere, kay?” He tells you softly, big hands moving to hold your hips.

“Eyes. Want those pretty eyes on me, pretty girl.” He commands firmly yet gently, not wanting to startle you.

Your eyes flicker down to his, heart pounding in your chest. Butterflies filled your tummy as you stared at him, subconsciously licking your lips.

He lets out a small hum, leaning in slightly to brush his lips against yours. “Lemme take the lead, yeah? Jus’ follow me.”

He gently presses his lips to yours. You instinctively flinch at the new contact, but eventually your eyes flutter shut as you melt against Rafe.

His hands grip your hips a bit better, helping you onto his lap. He moved his lips with yours, fitting together perfectly as he swiped his tongue over your bottom one.

You gasped into his mouth, causing him to slip his tongue in and slide it perfectly against yours. Your own hands move off of your lap, but stay in the air, not knowing what to do.

He takes your hands and guides them onto his shoulders, pulling back so you can both pant together.

“Good girl, baby… doin’ s’good.” He murmurs breathily, before capturing your swollen lips with his again.

As the kisses went on, you continued to melt against him, your body burning from his addictive nature.

Your hands slid down his chest, fingertips gently squeezing in to feel his pecs as you sat perfectly on his lap and made out with your tutee.

Eventually, though, you had to pull away because your lungs were burning with the need for air.

His eyes flutter open against yours again, staring at each other as he rests his forehead against your own.

��Y’okay?” He asks softly.

You nod, breathless and mind a little fuzzy that your first kiss was that good, the type of good that’s only seen in those romance movies.

“Good.”

[lemmesayimyourbiggestfan]

Say my name again

Hwang In-ho x reader

word count: 2k

warnings: blood, gore, violence… if u watched SG, you’ll be fine

as always, requests are open!

You’ve been watching him for some time now. Paying attention to the way his mouth moved when he talked to his teammates, following his gaze wherever he looked. After the second game, you overheard him introducing himself. Young-il. What a coincidence he looked like the police officer that visited your flat so many years ago. The name was what made you suspicious - you could have sworn the police officer introduced himself to you as Hwang In-ho. And it’s not as if you could’ve gotten those mixed up; you two spent many restless days trying to find the ones who were behind the robbery of your home. But, you smiled with some bitterness on your tongue, the outcome was obvious based on your situation.

You knew you were the only one watching him so closely. One of your teammates even joked about it, saying you were mesmerised by that man. But he just made you nervous - his presence planting a bug in your brain. Was he a spy for the government? Or was he just as miserable as the rest of you?

With another unsuccessful vote behind you, you could finally rest and get off of your adrenaline high by leaning against the railing of your bunk bed while nibbling on some bread. You took off your bloodied shoes that always made you nauseous just by looking at them and while doing some breathing exercises your eyes of their own volition found that familiar face in the moving crowd. Of course he is still playing, you thought. He was a cop, no matter what. You watched him give his own share of milk to the pregnant girl. Did he do it out of kindness or to manipulate those people?

“Seriously, Y/N, you must have a problem. What is wrong with you? Staring like that at that poor guy- he might get the wrong idea.” One of your teammates said to you, sitting next to you on the bed.

“Don’t worry so much. I’m just watching and that’s harmless on its own.”

“On its own, yes. But what you’re doing is more than that.”

You raised your brow in annoyance and curiosity and moved your eyes to her.

“And what is it that I’m doing?” You pursed your lips.

“Stalking, mildly put.” She grimaced at your look, sensing how close to irritated you were becoming.

“Stalking? Such a nonsense, Se-mi.”

“Well, whatever. Just be careful so he doesn’t notice or in the next game you might have even more trouble staying alive.”

“Yeah? Is that because you’re so done with me you’re gonna finish me off tomorrow?”

Both of you were grinning then.

“In your dreams, Y/N.”

***

The platform beneath you jerked to life but all your eyes could see were the puddles of blood everywhere. Your shoes were already drenched in it, the palms of your hands covered by it. You slipped on the blood so many times that your clothes were already camouflaged.

“Today I die,” you breathed out, ragged and scared. You knew you were right.

The music echoed in your head even as it quieted and the platform stopped. But you still couldn’t look away from all the blood, not caring anymore about the people around you.

“Two.” said the woman’s voice and panic began. You finally lifted your gaze, searching for Se-mi or anyone familiar but no one was around. People were screaming, dragging each other down, pushing, always pushing. And you just stood there, awaiting your unavoidable end.

“Come on!” There, a body appeared, and someone crashed into you with such force it was hard to stay on your feet. Hands grabbed your waist and with unbelievable strength half pushed you half carried you to the nearest unoccupied room. Only when your body connected with the floor and the doors locked behind you did you look up at the person who saved you.

“Tell me what you want from me.” Young-il or In-ho said, blocking the exit with his body, freezing you in place with those piercing eyes. So he has noticed, you thought, finding it hard to swallow, let alone speak.

“I know who you are.” you croaked and In-ho said nothing, but his laugh lines grew heavier.

“Do you?“ he asked after a while, his eyes sparkling. Was this just a game for him?

“Why didn’t you tell them your real name, In-ho?”

“What made you think you could talk to me like that?” You shivered at his words but your face remained impassable. Somehow, you weren’t scared of him, no. Just… curious.

“Same question.”

“You think I don’t remember you, right? But you’re wrong. The moment I noticed you here I knew exactly who you were, Y/ N.” It was hard to pretend that those words meant nothing to you.

“At least I don’t hide behind a different name.”

“It’s a precaution. Some of these people are criminals and if they recognised my name they wouldn’t be as happy as you to see me here, understood?”

Your cheeks reddened but that didn’t stop you from holding your ground. His gaze made you nervous and you started biting your lower lip.

“Would you stop doing that?” In-ho asked and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“You’re not the only one watching, Y/N.” he gave you a tentative smile.

Before you could say anything, the doors clicked and In-ho extended his hand to you as an offering.

“I can keep a secret… Can you?” A corner of his mouth curled up slightly and in answer you accepted his hand.

***

After you walked out of the room, the two of you didn’t speak until later that day in the dormitory. It was as if your roles switched - the whole day you felt his gaze following you wherever you went. It was driving you insane.

Thankfully In-ho approached you on his own, holding you by your elbow and gently leading you to a tranquil corner of the room.

“Stop staring at me to distract me!” you whisper shouted at him.

“Oh, I’m not staring at you to distract you.”

Again, the blush creeped into your cheeks. Flustered and ashamed, you looked away and bit your lip.

“I shouldn’t be here, you know.” he went on. His eyes were flickering from side to side, probably trying to see if anyone paid any attention to you.

“Well, I can keep a secret, can’t I?” you looked up at him from beneath your lashes, a spark in your eyes. A smile crept on his face but quickly disappeared.

“As soon as the lights go out today, the other team is going to attack us so they have more people voting tomorrow for the games to continue. You hide under the bed and be quiet, you understand?”

“Is this a trap?” you asked and stepped away, your hands starting to shake.

“Do as I say.” And that was that. With it, he meant to turn away, but you gripped his wrist.

“In-ho-“

“Would you stop doing that?” he retorted and moved his hand so it was him holding you. His knuckles were all white but he wasn’t hurting you.

“Doing what exactly, In-ho-“ before you could finish the sentence, the palm of his hand covered your mouth. Your nostrils were met with a musky and tangy smell.

“Don’t test me.” He let go of you and stepped aside. As he turned to go, he spoke over his shoulder: “When the lights turn off, come and find me. I’ll keep you safe.”

And somehow, no matter how dangerous this place was, knowing that you cannot trust anyone here, you trusted him.

***

“Light out in five minutes.” The woman’s voice resonated in the dormitory while everyone climbed into their beds. You sat at the edge of yours with shoes on, checking for the fifth time In-ho’s location. In your mind, you tried to blindly navigate your way and when you were finally convinced that you could do it, you loosened a deep sigh.

“Why so tense, Y/N?” Se-mi asked from the bed beneath yours. You climbed down onto her level and quickly checked if anyone was listening, before you whispered: “After the lights go out, gen under the beds. Trust me.” Thank god she didn’t question it, because you felt ridiculous enough for the both of you for even listening to In-ho. He didn’t have a motive to keep you safe. He had one to kill you, though. You were the only one here who knew his real name. You just didn’t know if it was information worth killing for.

“Lights out in ten seconds. Ten, nine, eight…” You looked around for the last time. The air was stale and tense. Your body started shaking immediately.

“Three, two, one.” The darkness fell like a heavy curtain. You quietly stumbled down the ladder, careful to make as little noise as possible. Your left knee nearly collapsed under you as you made the first step but you kept a firm grip on the railings as you slowly passed between the bunk beds. Two railings, you go right, tree railings, you touch the wall, you follow it into the corner, then four railings before you go left…. But it just wasn’t possible to move as quickly as required. You were three quarters in when hell was unleashed. The sounds of stabbing, screaming and gurgling filled the air but your legs refused to move. You were completely paralysed with fear.

Someone jumped screaming from their bed and stumbled into you. You fell with a yelp on the cold floor and tried to scoot under the closest bed, but someone was already there pushing you out, frantically repeating: “Get out, they’re gonna find me, you have to go!”

You scrambled on all fours and stayed as low as possible while crawling to where In-ho was supposed to be. You were such a fool.

There was a sudden kick to your abdomen and you gasped, pain resonating through your body. Someone tripped over you and fell with a scream, their hands trying to hold onto anything, which just happened to be your hair. You screamed with pain, blindly punching around yourself in a desperate attempt of defence.

“In-ho!” you finally screamed, not caring anymore if someone tracked you down because of it. There was so much noise that it didn’t matter.

“In-ho!” you kept on shouting as you got up and started frantically running in the direction you thought was the right one. You were starting to get desperate, your voice turning into a rasp, tears forcing their way out of your eyes.

Earlier, when you said that you were going to die that day, maybe it would actually happen.

Suddenly, a hand grasped your ankle and you were prepared for the worst. But when your name fell off In-ho’s lips, your shoulders sagged with relief and with a desperate cry you got on the ground and slid next to him under the bed.

“I thought I was dead,” you gasped out, hand on your racing heart.

“Well, me too if that calms you down.”

“It certainly doesn’t, In-ho.” you glared at him. He was looking at you in a strange way, something in his expression you didn’t know how to identify.

“What is it?” you asked, your stomach dropping. Was he actually betraying you? Or was he trying to kiss you? With that look on his face, you couldn’t say which one.

“Say my name again,” he breathed out, your breaths mingling. Suddenly, you noticed all the points where your body was touching his, your skin heating up at the contact.

“In-ho,” you mumbled and stretched out your hand to tuck a strand of his silky hair behind his ear.

“You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” In-ho looked at you with a pained expression.

“Not in the slightest,” you whispered softly against his warm lips as you kissed him.

[cameronsbabydoll]

i have a request for a blurb please: puppy reader waking rafe up in the middle of the night bc she has to pee and she’s too scared to go to the bathroom alone so he goes and he’s holding her hand while she’s peeing bc she won’t let go!! he’s just grumpy but knows he has to take care of her🥸🥸🥸🥸🥸🥸🥸🥸🥸🥸🥸🥸🥸🥸🥸🥸

PINK PAJAMAS, BIG TEARS

rafe cameron x puppy!reader

WARNINGS: ddlg dynamics, infantilization, potty-related content, established relationship, implied age regression, soft!grumpy rafe, clingy/submissive puppy!reader, pet names (puppy, mutt, baby, daddy), caretaking

it’s sometime past 3 a.m. when you start tugging at the sleeve of rafe’s shirt, voice barely a whisper as you mumble,
“daddy…”

he groans. low and annoyed. doesn’t even open his eyes yet, “what.”

“i have to go to the bathroom…”

“then go.”

“but it’s dark,” you sniffle, already getting teary. “what if there’s someone in the hallway?”

he’s awake now, blinking hard, jaw tight. he’s still half-asleep, hair messy, face grumpy as ever. but he sits up with a sigh, already reaching for your hand.
“c’mon, baby. before you piss the bed.”

you follow behind him like a puppy on a leash, bare feet on cold tile. when you get to the bathroom, you try to go in alone—really, you do—but you immediately panic when he starts to let go of your hand.

“n-no! stay!” you whine. “please? please hold my hand while i pee, i’m scared…”

he sighs again, harder this time, but his fingers don’t leave yours. he stays standing just outside the bathroom door while you sit on the toilet, pink pajama shorts tugged down around your thighs, and your little hand clutches his like he’s the only thing keeping the monsters away.

“jesus,” he mutters under his breath, looking away with a hand over his face. “can’t even piss without me next to you. this is insane.”

“i’m sorry,” you mumble, embarrassed but not letting go. “i just feel safe when you’re with me…”

and he’s still tired. still grumpy. but his grip softens just a bit.

“…yeah, yeah. hurry up, baby.”

he gives your hand a squeeze. “and wash your hands after. i’m not holdin’ hands with my pissy little pup otherwise.”

you giggle, cheeks warm, heart fluttering. “yes, daddy.”

and when you finally come out, he carries you back to bed and lets you cuddle into his chest with his t-shirt clutched in your hand again.

“you’re not allowed to drink water before bed anymore,” he grumbles. but he’s already kissing the top of your head.

[dilf-docs]

To The Devil I Know

bfd!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: your infamous girl's trip with your best friend sarah gets crashed by his overprotective dad.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, p. in v., fingering, oral (m. and f. receiving), brat taming, it's pussy spanking time again bc i do in fact like it a lot, praise/daddy kink sprinkled somewhere, reader calls him mr. miller A LOT, exhibition kink (v nasty), degradation kink (he calls her little slut), pantie sniffing, dirty talk (they have a sentence awaiting in horny jail), y/n grinds on joel's nose bc yeah i too want that, this is contradicting but lwk sub!joel bc that man's touch starved as HELL, may do a part two idk pls give it love, dad!bod joel bc i say so (yummy), no angst (wtf dilf-docs? the angst gods are so pissed off rn)

word count: 7,195 words

side note: this request got me HOOKED the moment i opened it and since i'm currently on a pedro hyperfixiation rn, we need to put the mental illness to good use. also, this is lwk based on the song by suki waterhouse devil i know! :) i'm seeing that i have two joel fics with devil in the title btw something something abt nickels and not being a lot but weird it happened twice also WE HIT 300 FOLLOWERS??? (and its 1am and i have to wake up at 4am is anyone surprised atp...)

part: prev | masterlist | next

"Sarah!" you shout, "get your ass out here you looser!"

It's probably eight in the morning, and here you are, honking and shouting in the middle of the quiet calm suburbs.

When you spot her curly head running towards you in a rush, you know she's pissed.

"Stop screaming!" she shouts back, "my neighbours will hate me"

You've known Sarah since you were kids. When you first moved to Texas, she was the only one who spoke to you in school. You grew up with her among white picket fences and scrapped knees, mantaining the friendship even as you moved away, until your return for college.

"Why would I even care? I don't live here!" you joke from the driver's seat, hopping off and giving her a hug. "I'm sorry but I can't help it. I'm just so excited for this trip, we've been planning it for ages!"

You keep talking excitedly about your plans, not noticing how her face falls.

"Yeah, about that..."

"You girls ready?" a third voice enters the picture, definitely not belonging to a girl.

"Uh, Sarah" you breath in, "Why the fuck is your dad here?"

In all his glory: Joel Miller, a guy you haven't seen in forever, too busy living in the dorms, girl dates with Sarah often out of her house. You wanted to explore the world: you weren't ten anymore, and the suburbs lost all of it's appeal they had when you were the age of Barbies and drawing on chalk.

"Listen, y/n. I tried, I really tried. But as soon as I opened my mouth, he started to pack his bags"

"Isn't your dad always busy at work?" you inquire, another one of the reasons Joel's face isn't a fresh memory in your head.

"That's part of the problem. He took all of the pending vacations he had at once" she sighs, sounding as dissapointed as you are. "I understand if you don't want to go"

"Are you being serious right now?" you chuckle dryly. "No, absolutely not. I saved for this trip, packed my favorite outfits and aced all my classes so my parents would allow me. Nothing is going to ruin this for me: not you, not your dad. So we'll go and we'll have all the fun we planned, yeah?" you express firmly, holding her hands. "We will have our girl summer, no matter what. Even if we have to ignore the elephant in the room..."

"Did you just call me fat?"

You turn around, and there he is: the uninvited. Joel Miller's aged face stands before you, strong arms flexing under the pressure of a couple of suitcases.

"No" you reply back, "just a nuissance"

He chuckles at your response, amused. "If you thought I'd let my babygirl go alone with you to the beach and get shit-faced drunk, you're not as smart as I remember, y/n"

Your name would always be on his tongue to call you out. Y/n, don't do that. Y/n apologize to the neighbours. Y/n, slow down. Y/n, don't be so stubborn. You were always a troublemaker, and his lips would only know how to pronounce your name if to berate you. But now, as his mouth says your name with a newly learned tone, dripping with dare and amusement, you can't help but feel a fire ignite that burns your skin.

"Dad!" Sarah calls out, taking you out of your thoughts. She flushes in embarrasment, and you scoff at the idea of giving too much of your time to think about Mr. Miller of all people. "I'm not ten anymore, we'll be just fine"

"You're barely of legal age!" he counters back. "What if somethin' was to happen to you, huh? I'd never forgive myself"

You get annoyed at his over-the-top reactions. What did he think you were gonna do? The wildest thing you had in mind was getting drunk while sitting in the sand. Not even in the water! You may be a wild spirit, but stupid you're not.

"Look, Mr. Miller" he cocks his head to the side, daringly so, almost as if waiting for you to try. "I don't know what you're thinking, but this isn't Driveway Dolls" he looks at you confused, so you try again, "Or Thelma and Louise, whatever suits your fucking old ass. Alright? This is a girls trip, heard that? Just two bestfriends enjoying their youth and summer without boys around to ruin it for them"

"Boys?" he laughs. "Too bad, then, 'cause sweetheart, I'm a man"

Your breath hitches, but you're not going to let him win; you always need to have the last word.

"Well, man up and let your daughter be free for once!"

Sarah covers her face with her palms, clearly knowing her dad more. This is a lost battle.

"Stop, y/n. Please. Dad's impossible to bend"

"He's ruining our trip!" you protest, feeling like a child throwing a tantrum.

"Take it or leave it" he leans against his truck, crossing his arms. Your eyes dart to the strained fabric of his sleeves, and when he chuckles, you don't know if he noticed or it's because of his imminent victory.

"Fine!" you throw your hands in the air, dramatically so. "Welcome on board, intruder"

Joel Miller smiles, and maybe it's the rare sight, not even common back in the day, that makes your heart skip a beat.

"And we're taking my truck"

"Are you being serious right now?!" Was this man going to take away all your freedom?

He laughs, mockingly. Rage bubbles in your chest, along something darker you aren't going to admit just yet.

"There is no way my daughter is going on a fucking hatchback to the beach"

You try to distract yourself talking to Sarah in the backseat, but her dad's prying glances time to time from the rear view mirror have you shifting uncomfortably on your seat.

He's persistent, always has been. Joel Miller, just as Sarah said, wasn't a man who could be bent. You'd remember thinking he was a sort of superhero: unbreakable. Whenever Sarah needed help, a pair of strong arms would be there, ready to take the weight off of her shoulders. He was now older, as you have noticed: grey and wrinkles sprayed all over his face. And now, the worst part of it all:

Age had made him infuriatingly attractive.

Unfair, you think, that a man so bitter that only seemed to worry and nag, was blessed with the rare quality of aging like wine. You can deny it anymore: whatever Joel Miller has now that he didn't before is working on you like a lovesick spell.

You look again to the front, just in time to catch one of his subtle (not really) stares. You keep the eye contact, only he tears away his gaze first, something akin to regret and fear circling on his warm brown orbs. The fire from before cracks inside of your belly, and the anticipation begins.

If he was going to ruin your trip, you might as well return the favor.

"M' gonna stop for gas" he says after some minutes of silence, deviating towards a gas station.

You take the opportunity to get out of the truck to strech your legs. Sarah does so too, but then whispers into your ear:

"Tell my dad I need to go to the bathroom. Don't want him worrying"

As if you'll talk to him. Despite that, you nod and she leaves you alone with her annoying dad.

"Reckless too, huh?" Joel appears by your side, almost making you drop your phone. "You know you're not s'pposed to use the damn phone on a gas station? Good thing I ain't let my daughter go alone with you"

You put your phone down. "Reckless? I know what I'm doing" but you sound nervous, for some reason.

"You haven't changed at all, have you?" Joel says, his voice surprisingly soft.

You heart gets stuck in your throat at the sudden shift, "I suppose not"

"I get that you hate me" he confesses, done filling the tank, "but I couldn't let the two of you go alone"

Your cheeks turn pink at the accusation, "I don't hate you"

He laughs, and the sound has something stirring in the lower of your belly. Why is Joel Miller of all people provoking feelings in you no other boy has ever provoked? You're used to playing with boys as you please, and you come to realize that's where the difference lies: you don't know how to handle a man.

A man so strong, your eyes don't leave him as his arms flex while pumping the gas, the delicious peek his simple white shirt gives you not going unnoticed; droplets of sweat on his temple, sliding down his jawline then getting lost down the crook of his neck. You lick your lips on instinct, horrified when you realize what you've just thought and done.

"Damn right you don't"

You could say you've reached some kind of truce, but then Sarah comes back, and when you look at Joel again, he's reverted to that annoying apathic state of his, but instead of bothering you, it only makes you want more.

"Hey" he says to Sarah, "where you went?"

"I had to pee, dad. Relax" she dismisses, shooting at you a can-you-believe-it look.

He walks away, ready to jump in the driver's seat again, when he turns around to whisper to Sarah:

"Don't ever leave me again" tone stern, "not with her"

But you hear.

You arrived late, the sun hiding behind the large body of water that seemed infinite.

"I can't believe we missed the first sunset!" you whine. "It was going to look so good on my Instagram stories..."

"This generation and their problems" Joel scoffs, taking the suitcases to the house you've rented for the next two days.

The answer is right at the tip of your tongue, but you decide to be the bigger person and remain quiet. If he wants to play, you better play smart.

"Dad, please" Sarah calls him out, and you have to hide a laugh. "Don't fight with y/n"

"I ain't doing shit" he sneers, crossing his bulking arms.

Sarah walks past him, muttering against his childishness. That angers Joel, who tries to remain cool.

"I know you hate me" you suddenly appear by his side. Your vainilla scent gets up on his nose, invading his body of you. "I just think you should try, for Sarah"

"I don't hate you" he answers, and now it's your turn to laugh.

"Yeah? Doesn't seem like it, Mr. Miller" it comes out before you can stop it, and there's something dark lurking behind his brown eyes piercing through you.

"I don't" sounding more sure this time. Serious too.

"You'll have to prove that"

You enjoy the surprise on his face and the light pink sprinkled across his cheeks.

"Prove that?"

You nod, finding all of this suddenly funny.

"Hmh, you heard me. Prove it, Mr. Miller. That you don't hate me"

But before he can respond, your bestfriend is back.

"Y/n, come on! You need to check the house. It has a shared balcony!" Sarah beams giddy.

You let her excitement infect you, taking her hand as you go inside the house. Joel stays back, your words ringing on his ears.

On the other hand, Sarah and you check the room together.

"Look this" she points at one of the mirrors in the room: it has details that remind you of the sea. "Isn't it cute?"

"It is" you agree, "we should take a picture"

"Okay. But use your phone" she says, "mine died on the road"

You're about to pull it out when you feel your pockets empty.

"It's... not here"

"You might have left it in the car" she tries to help.

"Yeah" you try to remain level-headed, "I'll go search for it"

You return to the truck, pressing your head against the window. Just like your friend guessed, it's there, abandoned on the seat.

"Lost somethin'?"

You gasp, turning around. Joel Miller's face is centimeters away from yours, breathing heavily as his body cages your smaller frame against the truck's doors.

"My phone" you find your voice after what feels like eternity, "it's inside the car"

"Need help with that?" his voice sounds low, whisper easily to be confused with a growl.

You don't know how to answer, scared for the first time of where your mouth could take you. So your solution is to nod, and step aside for him to open the car.

"There you go" he's dropping it in your hands, fingers lightly brushing yours. There's a shiver down your spine despite the cool weather, and you know damn well it's all his fault. He may feel it too, by the way he takes a step back, putting some distance.

"Need anything else?" but it feels like a slap to the face, as if he's challenging you to speak what you've been thinking but are too coward to do when he stands before you.

"No" you mentally slap yourself for how pathetic you sound, "this is all I needed, Mr. Miller. Thanks"

You look back one last time, despite it all. And there it is: that same look he gave you in the car.

"Anytime" but it falls deaf to your ears, as you basically ran away from him.

Him and his imposing presence, enough to make your legs tremble and your mind to stop working. Him and his smell, that brings you back to simpler times and reminds you of a a secret place in the woods, musk getting under your skin. Him and his breath, hitching when you touch hands. Him and his beating heart, just as loud as yours.

"Took you long" Sarah comments when you return, "I was already falling asleep"

She doesn't know or suspect, you tell yourself, but that doesn't stop you from feeling sick.

That night, as Sarah lays by your side and you try to sleep, all you can think about is his big hands, the lingering feeling of a warm touch. And then Joel, stepping back―coming to his senses, as if something is holding him back.

Anytime.

You can't help but wonder what stopped him.

Days have blurred between drinks by the poolside, waves crashing, wet sand in your fingers and sun carressing skin.

Despite what happened, Joel remains in the shadows, letting you and Sarah enjoy your trip in peace. You may be spending time with your bestfriend, but his presence hangs in the air, impregnated with his strong pine and whisky smell, looming over you like a shadow; suffocating, like his scent is all you can breath. You hate how your mind keeps going back to him, because despite your inicial claims to ruin him, that wasn't the purpose of this vacation, yet Joel seems to have infected you with a need that corners your mind to think of him and him only. The greed you feel is unnatural, like a spell has been cast upon you. He may be far, just as you wanted, and you should enjoy that, but it's that very same distance that is driving you insane.

Today, you and Sarah decided to go diving and then play volleyball.

The day ends, the sun sets, and so does the tiredness. But as Sarah's snores fill your ears, you toss around the bed, trying to conceal sleep to no avail.

Staring at the ceiling, you kept drifting back to Joel, mind wondering and heart racing at thoughts of strong arms caging you, warmth in your body that the breeze creeping through flowing curtains fails to provide.

The sound of wood creaking jolts you awake. His silhoutte is hard to miss, and your eyes follow it cross your bedroom. You pretend to be asleep, his scent up your nose as he walks in careful measured steps, trying not to wake you up. He looks back at Sarah, and the moonlight betrays him when it shines over his eyes, revealing an adoration that gnaws your chest.

He keeps walking, until he reaches the shared balcony. It's then that you make a choice, heart pounding in your chest as you race yourself from bed, going his way.

You go outside, finding him resting his arms on the balcony, facing the beach in silence. Soft waves crash against the wet sand, but not even that can overpower the sound of your beating heart.

"What're you doin' here?" he's asking, even if you haven't moved from your spot. Seems like your friend wasn't joking about his heightened senses, despite his old age. "Thought y'were 'sleep"

"Well, Sarah is a fast sleeper" you answer, walking to his side.

"She sure is" and the faintest of a smile appears on his face.

Joel Miller is a mystery to you: the most closed off man you've ever met, hiding behind his apparent apathy that only seems to be gone whenever Sarah is around. She's the apple of his eye, and those soft traces of a more tamed character that come to light have truly picked your interest, begging for more crumbs that will help you puzzle who he really is: he, that is as handsome as a mystery. The worst is, you don't know what attracts you more.

But you won't let him win.

"Mr. Miller?"

"Yeah?"

"Were you married?"

He looks at you, dark eyes partly iluminated by the moonlight.

"Aren't you a bit too young to be bold?"

"And aren't you too hot to be all alone?" you reply in an instant, rendering him speechless.

He chuckles, but it sounds defeated rather than amused.

"Trust me, kid" he's back at facing the ocean. Goddamn coward. "This isn't what you want"

"Don't call me kid" you berate, almost repulsed at it. "I'm twenty one"

He scoffs. "Still hella young"

"But I know what I want" a wavering hand ready to trace over his pecs, but he's stopped you before it descends. Before it's too late.

"You don't" he assures, grip on your hand stronger, without knowing how much you're enjoying this. Or maybe he does. "See? That's the problem with you kids: you think you do, but you don't"

You loose your patience.

"Tell me then, Mr. Miller. Would a kid do this?"

Taking the distraction, the same hand flies now to grop his dick, and to your surprise, it's already hard.

"Seems I'm not the only one who doesn't know what they want"

"Stop" he warns, hissing when your eager fingers unbuckle his belt. It's huge, for some reason, and you can't help but feel an ardent throb at the thought of grinding on it.

When your eyes look at Joel, he swears he sees you devilishly smirk, almost as if you were mocking him.

"Stop?" you bite your lip, feigning innocence as doe eyes look where dark ones had done before. "If that's what you want, you aren't even trying"

You kneel down, and the position gives you the perfect side of his adam's apple bobbing in a nervous gulp. He grows insecure under your intense stare, breath hitching when the wind hits his now free member as you pull down his underwear, revealing it hard and leaking with precum. You laugh delighted, with victory, and he finds himself trapped between the moon and your games, drowning on a sea feet away.

"I think I know what you want"

"How? You don't even know what you want" barely fighting it.

Your fingers grace over his soft abdomen, tracing down his belly and happy trail. Your teeth nip at the skin scattered with soft rosy lines, peppering the skin with fluttering kisses to entertain your mouth until your digits touch his hard cock. Joel whines, squirming, and you're delighted with the receptiveness, needy sounds escaping his lips.

You haven't even started yet.

"You're right, I don't" you agree. "All I know is you piss me off and that you ruined our trip, so I'm gonna take my anger out on you one way... or another"

You take your first lick, savouring the dark red head. His hips buck, a shaky gasp robbed from his chapped lips.

"Fuck" he exhales weakly, lost against the sound of water.

"Don't worry, Mr. Miller. I'll take good care of you" admiring his girth. He looks down on you, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Joel can't lie and say he isn't fascinated with the way you look at him, not believing so much appetite can fit in such a small young body. Not even his partners before you, had looked at him like he was the best thing in the world, and now here you were: the loud-mouthed brat best friend of his daughter, sucking his cock while Sarah slept just a few meters away. Just yersteday he was bickering with you, not standing your spoiled attituted and juvenile spirit that can't be tamed and won't shut up. Hell, you had even disrespected him. But here he is, not being able to find the words or actions to stop you: because he doesn't want to.

It was all so fucked up.

But then you're closing your lips around his swollen head, and he knows there's no point in fighting it anymore, his whole body urging him to give in.

"Oh, fuck" he pants, getting all worked up as you take him deeper. "Keep goin'. You're doin' a great job, sweetheart"

The praise gets to you, even if not needed.

Your tongue swirls, running the muscle with wet slides, up and down, tip to base, some pressure applied. You proceed to take in his balls, feeling him tense up. You wanted to mock him badly, but your mouth was full of his dick, so that wasn’t happening.

"D-don't stop" he pleads, sounding more like a whine.

He's deep enough that it hits your throat. You've never been this greedy, but also, have never tried with a dick so big. You feel him in the roof of your mouth, your lips at the base of the tip, brushing against skin. Joel can't keep up: breath hitching, moans ragged and consumed, barely standing if it wasn't for your hands digging in his thighs for support.

You keep building pace, seeing Joel's face scrunch up.

"M' close" his voice comes out strained, his head tilting back, wild soft locks from before now plastered against his forehead, dripping with sweat. His muscles tense, you can feel it, and it's just about time before he's coming inside your mouth.

You want it. To taste more of him, who you claim to hate but feels oh so good. Strong, just as his presence.

"So good, fuck, you're so good" in a tone so needy and desperate. It falls out of his lips, followed by more unintelligible praises dripping from his tongue.

And then, in a shaky breath, lost to the wind:

"Y/n"

You gasp, and he feels it, the air ticklish on his sensitive skin.

Joel said your name.

Your name, in a way it had never been said before. Uttered like a prayer, submerged in devotion. Your name, melting into his moans, deep within him, the calling full of a primal desire. The experience is intoxicating, making you crave more.

Joel comes with a groan, head falling back. Your name dies on his lips as his hips thrust up with your lips closing in. Thick spurts of cum mix with saliva in the back of your throat. You pull out, a string of saliva still connecting you to his dick. He looks down on you, body shaking as much as yours. Without breaking eye contact, he wipes some of the mess drooling from your lips, his calloused thumbs carresing you with a softness you didn't think was possible. The contrast makes you falter a bit, and you know Joel notices.

"There you go" your voice comes out hoarse, avoiding his eyes, "now you know what you want"

He chuckles, giving you a hand to stand up. As you raise to your feet, his face is barely inches away from yours. You can see the lines time has marked across his face, the grays coloring hair you remember to be brown, and those eyes―piercing through you like they know you better than you know yourself.

"But do you?"

Joel Miller doesn't know what is regret.

He didn't feel it when Sarah arrived unexpectedly at the ripe age of twenty, forcing him out of college. He didn't feel it when Sarah's mother left him alone to raise his daughter all by himself, aware he had tried it all to make it work. He surely didn't feel it when you came back after leaving Texas, long gone the childlike wonder and features that made him see you as an extension of his daughter, his gaze lingering a bit too long on this familiar face in a beautiful blooming new body.

But this is different, and he isn't sure if, for the first time, he's finally known what is regret.

Joel Miller also doesn't know when to back out of a fight.

He remember his brother Tommy, practically begging to let go of some asshole that dared to pick up on him, knuckles bloody no matter if he was young then and old as stubborn now, the same red painted across his willfull hands.

But now those hands prickle and sweat, no matter how much he runs them over the fabric of his jeans. And now, as your dangerous stare pierces through him across the small table, Sarah oblivious to the game as she quietly munchs her cereal, Joel Miller backs down, his gaze the first to look away.

He realizes just now why he was so afraid to look up to the sky after you left. The same stars that stared back from the high of the dark night are akin to the ones dancing in your eyes.

"Mr. Miller" your voice breaks his train of thoughts.

"Where's Sarah?" he asks in a panicked voice, realizing you've been left alone.

"Brushing her teeth" you answer, slightly taken back by his tone. "We were going out today, remember?"

Ah, yes. A little tour to an island not to far away from there.

"M' not goin'. Sorry, kid" he's decided. Before you can speak, Sarah returns and asks the question herself.

"M' tired. That's all" but it sounds rather an excuse.

"Are you sure, dad?" Sarah presses, not sure why he had changed his mind at the last minute.

"Yeah" he insists, all while avoiding those eyes of yours, unsatisfied and searching for answers of questions qithout a voice. "You girls go and have fun"

So you do.

You go and feel like you're inside of Mamma Mia (your favorite movie; both of you learned ABBA's discography thanks to it, something that offended your parents), the sun reflecting in the water, the little island with its green and sun, and the flowers that dust their petals into the shore where your boat arrives.

But when the trip is over and soft waves rock your return, you think of Joel.

You think you should feel at least a little ashamed of becoming so obssesed with a man in barely two days, who, on top of it all, is your bestfriend's dad. But then you remember the taste of him inside your mouth, how his dick had rasped against your throat, his seed warm in the tip of your tongue. And then his eyes, promises meant to be broken locked away behind tides of fear, that do an excellent job of reminding you how easy is to drown; to fall for how in hazel flickers, Joel seems he'd give you the world.

"Let's get drunk" you deadpan once you're back at the shore.

Sarah laughs at your determination, then realizes you're serious.

"What?"

"Yeah, it's our last day here" you reason. "Besides, your dad isn't here. What's he going to say?"

If you sound between angry and dissapointed at his absence, Sarah remains quiet.

"We're running away" she tries one last time, but by the look in your eyes, you've made your choice.

"Are we? We're twenty-one, Sarah. We can do whatever the fuck we want" you feel rebellious all of a sudden, "what? Don't you wanna give this trip a grand finale?"

So you crash into the nearest bar and waste the night away, drinking and dancing. But you're ordering a drink you don't like, and in every glass of whiskey down your throat, his name hangs in the air like the memory of his smell, locked behind a vault as if it's too sacred to say. But when Sarah gets a boy to dance and lends his friend to you, you wish there was rough where soft meets your skin, and chapped when you kiss his lips. Your body burns ablaze with sweat, alcohol and regret, a dangerous combination that makes you pull Sarah out of the bar when you feel you're about to black out. She complains, but you're set on making it to the bed before your eyelids shut.

Maybe it's because you always had what you wanted, or maybe it was the forbidden, but whatever reason had pushed you in Joel's orbit, refused to let you go.

And maybe you're imagining his voice, scolding you like a kid. Maybe you're seven again, and in the shadows of the bed, you've gone back to your childhood days. Y/n, y/n, y/n. That sick berating tone of his, acting like you're stupid and small.

"Fucking brat" he spats, drops of his angry scowl landing on your cheek. You then realize he's hovering over you, and it's real, not a product of your foggy mind. So you stand up, sobering up a bit, when he charges back again. "Makin' my daughter pass out? What the fuck were you thinkin'? Could've ended in the middle of the street. You're s'pposed to go to the damn island and then come back!"

Your mouth tastes like sand, but even if you've passed out a couple hours ago, the fire doesn't die. So your tongue is back, finding it's voice to say:

"Well, if you hadn't left us alone, this wouldn't have happened"

He chuckles, darkly. Humorless. "I see"

"What?" you challenge, a shiver down your spine that looses itself somewhere else.

"You got my daughter drunk as revenge"

You're mortified at the accusation, the remnants of alcohol now long gone of your system.

"Do you think I'd risk me and my best friend's safety for you? Out of all people, you?" not caring if you sound bitter.

The truth sticks to your skin as uncomfortably as the sweat.

"I dunno, sweetheart. That's why I'm asking you" the pet name rolls effortlessly, in a rough voice that creates a wet spot in your panties. He gets closer, and you can see the tremble of his lips as he lets out a shaky breath. "Be a good girl and answer"

"I won't tell you shit" you spit.

"You little minx, thinkin' you can run your tongue like it ain't been 'round my cock before" you look like a deer caught in headlights, and Joel's enjoying this more than he should. "That's right, what'd Sarah think knowing her friend's a little slut for'er daddy's cock?"

The electric current that crosses your body sparks the fire of the woods hiding behind his auburn storms.

Now you're feeling high on a forest fire. You want the flames to engulf you, even if ashes is all there'll be left.

"Tell me you want this" his forehead clashes against yours, and the whole world falls silent, except for your ringing ears.

"I want this" and he's just as surprised as you are by the unwavering conviction. "I need you, Mr. Miller"

You try to get up, but he pushes you with full force back into your bed. Then, the base creaks, and he's on top of you, his weight pressing you against the mattress.

"What are you-"

"You think I'd let you get away easily? Have things your way? Naive lil' girl" he tuts, "I'll punish you for that"

As on cue, drowned out snores are heard from your side.

"But, Sarah-" you try to protest, his body caging you under his mercy.

"That'll mean you're behavin', right?" he runs his thumb across your lips, gently pulling them down, as if the chase was thrilling as eating the prey. "I know you don't want to wake her up and see her slut of a friend bangin' her daddy"

You tense, remaining silent at the threat, even if your body reacts other ways.

"Good girl"

He’s quick to get rid you of your shorts.

"Fuckin' hell" he murmurs against your neck, the clothing discarded somewhere in the room. "Wearin' this little shitty bottoms to rail me up, knowin' damn well when to bent and get me hard. Been thinkin' of takin' them off ever since you wore 'em first"

The confession makes you whine, and Joel's delighted by the sound, and just how putty you are under his big rough hands.

"Let's see what we got here" his large hands caress your thighs as he settles between your legs. "Black lace, baby? Such a fuckin' tease. Wore 'em for me?"

You shake your head, but his calloused digits dig on the plush skin of your thighs, making you wince at the pain.

"Don't lie to me, sweetheart. You'd said you'll be a good girl, yeah?" you nod, soaking wet, painfully so.

"Yes, I'll be"

"Show me your manners, then" he presses light kisses on the insides of your thighs, close to where you need his graying beard to tickle, "and I'll show you mine"

"Just eat me, Joel" you demand breathlessly. "Fuck. Need you, Mr. Miller, so bad"

"And why should I reward you, impatient little slut? Eager to get daddy's filthy mouth between that pretty pussy" Joel bites the inside of your thigh, and it takes all of your strength to avoid becoming a moaning mess. "You've been bad, sweetheart. A brat"

You deny it, but his head dissappears between your legs, licking the wet spot on your panties. You squirm under the teasing of his tongue, legs shutting close on instinct. You drown a whimper in your palm as he yanks your panties away.

"Don't do anything I ain't tell you to" demanding, and if you weren't this horny and out of your mind, you'd probably be scared. "There'll be consequences"

You try to obey. But then his nose, that big nose you want covered in your slick as you grind off of it between your legs, sniffs your panties. He gives it one big sniff, and then two, fingers going white as he holds the piece of fabric with too much force, shoving it on his face.

"Ye'r too fuckin' sweet, I'll give you that" he mumbles in a drunken haze. "Need to taste that drippin' cunt of yours 'night"

The bed creaks again, or maybe it's the sound of his bones starting to give in to old age, but Joel is sucking your clit, tongue pushed inside of your puffy folds. You hide a moan against his lips, hands traveling to grip his hair.

"Joel" you breathe out. 

He parts your folds easily, and before you know it, a rugged finger circles your entrance. Your back arches, and then he leaves place for his mouth again, flicking your sensitive core with his tongue. A moan a little too loud escapes your lips, making his eyes darken when the bed next to you shifts, Sarah tossing in her sleep.

"You dumb fuckin' brat. What'd I say?" his hand slams against your pussy, a sting you've never felt before, both showered in pain and pleasure, spreading across your cunt. "Don't disobey me. Apologize, now"

He stops his minstrations, and you're so achingly close to your orgasm, that the answer falls easy and rushed from your lips.

"Sorry, Mr. Miller"

"Good girl" Joel praises as he pushes his finger in, next to his tongue on your clit.

But the orgasm is so deliciously close, and you can't wait for more. So now you're grinding in his face by reflex, rubbing against his big nose just like you'd imagined. You whine at the sensation, and Joel rests his tongue flat on your clit with surprise.

"Who gave you permission to do that?" but his voice sounds more amused than nagging. "That imagination of yours is somethin' else. Have you been thinkin' bout it all this time, hmh, greedy dirty slut?"

The orgasm looms closer, hitting when Joel pushes a second rough finger in, walls clenching against his digits. He pulls away, licking his fingers with his tongue.

"Such a perfect pussy you got there, sweetheart. As sweet as you when you ain't bein' a pain in the ass"

You laugh breathless, trying to recover.

"Wanna taste?"

So now he's kissing you for the first time, his lips rough against plush skin, nibbling with your lower lips between his teeth, his tongue still tasting like you roaming free inside your mouth, like he wants to mark every corner; imprint himself in you. You've never wanted anything, hell, anyone more. The kiss leaves you hanging, heart racing at the closeness of his face and the warmhearted feeling of his lips on yours, like pieces of a puzzle fitting together.

"There you go" he chuckles, enamoured at the sight of your puffy lips. "Now it's my turn"

He's quick to get rid of the jeans and belt (oh well, it'll be another day) until he's over you, just wearing his boxers.

You'd never seen Joel naked before, why would you? But there's a vague memory of hot summer days, trying to survive the heat in the town's pool, just as the rest. He was there, eye candy for the mothers and horny teens. You hadn't understand back then, when he was all muscle, but you do know, where the mighty strenght is still hidden there, somewhere between his sturdy arms and chest as soft as his belly, round as it pushes above the only piece of cloth that forbids you to see his dick. His chest is full of hair, and God, you feel so dirty wanting to bury your face in the sweat drenched patch.

"Stop lookin' at me like that" he teases, but there is a small voice of insecurity hiding its undertones beneath his smirk under your stare.

"You're so fucking hot, Joel" comes out before you can stop it, now mouth acting up on its own.

Fuck, he thinks, he's too far gone. There's no point of return.

Your eager fingers pull down the underwear, fingers grazing the softness of his length. You slowly grabs his dick as he comes closer, never seeing anything as big and provoking as it. That makes you tighten your grip on his dick, which stands proud and tall, leaking precum, and the muscles of his thighs strain against his skin. 

He positions himself between your legs again.

"Let's put this big bad boy to use, huh?"

He grunts at your words, large hands finding your thighs for support, as he caresses up and down the skin littered with marks and kisses.

Joel pushes in. Just his tip, yet your mouth falls open at how large he already feels, and you tighten your hold on his neck.

"Tell me if it hurts" all softness on his eyes, his forehead falling against yours, as if he hadn't been punishing you just minutes ago. Your heart races at the gesture, tender meeting the rough of his edges.

The real question isn't asked, but you're on the pill and you trust him. You just want to fill him inside of you, all of him.

"I will, Mr. Miller"

He slams all the way in. You let out a broken sound, quickly muffled by his palm as he stays buried deep inside of you, givimg you time to adjust to his size. It burns, but you enjoy the way the pain feels. He slowly pulls out, before pushing all the way in again. Your slick folds take him, and he grunts, supporting his aching body by the forehead against yours one more time.

"So tight, sweetheart. Ain't nobody ruinin' this pussy but me" his growl comes out possesive as Joel establishes a steady rhythm. You softly moan as he keeps moving, pounding into you, hitting a spot no one had before, making you see stars. It gets harder to stay quiet, but Joel caputres every little sound that comes out of you in a kiss, as if that way he could preserve them better and forever.

You wrap your legs tight around him, keeping him close as your walls clench around him, his thrusts harder yet slower as he keeps going, ramming into you.

"Look at you, coatin' my dick like a fuckin' meltin' ice cream" he gently pushes it again between your folds, rubbing his dick on your clit. "So fuckin' wet, for me"

His lips are slightly parted and his eyes looked all fogged up, lost in the fire, thrusts becoming sloppier as he too feels it coming.

"So fuckin' pretty" drips from his mouth, and there's the stars in your eyes and the light you insist he's always had, even if he'd prefere the darkness. "The prettiest girl in the world with the sweetest pussy, givin' it all to this ol' perverted fuck"

The words and his big dick inside of you makes your eyes flutter shut on instinct.

"Don't sleep on me, baby" he coos, a hand brushing damp hair from your face. You recognize the look: the same in the car, on the balcony and on the poarch of his house, after letting the years go by. Back then, you thought you had dreamed it, but now that the secret saccharine sweetness reveals herself as he slams into you, you know it was real.

This is real.

You meet his gaze again and try to hold it as he pounds you so gently yet so rough, trying to show him without words that whatever this wrong and sick feeling was, you felt the same.

"Such'a good girl, takin' me so well" Joel grunts, slamming to the hilt. "Fuck, sweetheart, I'm gonna-"

His dick twitches inside of you, walls spasming around his cock as your pussy takes it all, milking him dry.

"Take it all, like the good girl you are"

Both of you pant, and it takes him a while to realize the sun is raising again until its rays hurt his eyesight.

He's about to tell you how this shouldn't be, how he, at such an old age shouldn't be pinning for his daughter's friend: so young, sweet and loud-mouthed. No matter if you felt the same, or if your body was marked in and out by him. No, because wanting isn't enough, and no tide could wash away his sins from the shore.

"Listen, y/n-" your name like he has never said it before: no scold, no malice nor lust. Just a softness he hadn't felt in years, asleep under thick layers of cold.

But your soft snores fill the silence between the beats of his heart.

credits: divider @kodaswrld / gif @loregifs / tags: @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrosgrogu thank you sm for reading! hope u enjoy it :)

[myfictionaldreams]

⁀➷ Lines We Cross // Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Summary: You’re cocky, sharp, and far too reckless for Natasha Romanoff’s taste—which makes being assigned to her team unbearable. For her. Tension builds through missions, near misses, and one very small motel bed.

Requested by: @paulasocean -- Thank you for the request, darling! Here's a mix of the different Natasha requests you've sent, I hope you like it!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, angst, violence, injuries, marking, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, hurt/comfort, praise kink, oral sex, fingering, teasing, dom/switch, body worship

Words: 4.7k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

The compound is quiet upon arrival, but not silent. You can feel it humming beneath your feet, polished floors, security systems, and trained eyes on you at all times. SHIELD doesn’t do subtle. Even its most peaceful moments feel like they're holding their breath for the next attack or mission. 

You’re no stranger to that.

Your boots echo faintly down the hallway as you follow a vaguely bored agent toward the main conference room. Everything here is clean and clinical, down to the air that smells just a little too sterile.

“You’ll be debriefed by Agent Romanoff,” the escort mumbles under his breath, barely looking at you.

You can’t help but smile. Romanoff, of course, it was her. 

You’ve heard the stories that everyone in the field had of the Black Widow. 

Blood on her hands and a body count that makes most assassins look like amateurs. But that's not what caught your attention; it’s what people don't say. The quiet respect, the hesitation, the way some agents won't meet her eyes, yet remain oddly loyal. 

You want to see for yourself what all the fuss was about.

And then she walks in.

She’s shorter than you’d expected. Well, not short, but compact. Every move is deliberate. Her red hair is tied back in a braid that sways with every step, and her black tactical gear fits like it was made for her. Which, you assume, it was.

Her eyes lock onto yours.

Green, fierceness. Cold and accession.

“You’re the new transfer,” she says, voice flat.

You nod, leaning back in your seat casually, your smirk returning easily. “Pleasure to meet you, Agent Romanoff.”

Her jaw flexes, just a little.

“Fury must be desperate,” she mutters, flipping open your file without looking at you again. She reads fast. Probably memorised half of it before she walked in.

Your arms cross your chest, continuing to assess every move she makes. “You know, most people start with hello. Or at least thank you for saving that hostage in Cairo.”

She snaps the file shut, her eyes find you, a move you had hoped she would do again.

“You disobeyed direct orders, blew up a museum, and nearly caused an international incident.”

You grin. “Yeah. But I got the girl.”

Her mouth twitches. Not quite a smile, more like irritation curling into something sharper.

“Reckless,” she says. “Undisciplined. Arrogant.

“And yet,” you purr, here I am. Assigned to your task force. The best of the best.”

That gets her. Those bright greens of hers flicking back to yours, sharp enough to cut steel. “You’re not here because I want you here.”

“Oh, I figured that much,” you say casually, dragging a finger across the smooth surface of the table between you. “But maybe I’ll grow on you.” 

Natasha steps closer. Not enough to crowd, but enough that you feel the heat rolling off her body, and the sweet smell of her perfume, covering the underlying scent of leather and gunpowder.

“I don't work with people who don't follow orders,” she says softly. 

You tilt your head. “And I don't follow orders from people who haven't earned my respect.” 

Something flashes in her eyes. Annoyance? Amusement?

“You think this is a game,” she mutters, shaking her head.

You lean in just slightly. “I think you like the way I play. I get results.”

The silence that follows stretches thin, taut, with something unspoken. Her eyes drift to your mouth, for a fraction of a second too long. Then she blinks and steps back.

“You report at 0600. Don't be late and don't talk.” 

“Mm,” you hum, already rising to your feet. “But my voice is my best quality.”

“I've seen your psych eval,” Natasha says, arching a brow as she picks up the file again. “That's not what it says.” 

You grin. “So you have been reading about me, sweetheart.”

Her eyes narrow. You're already halfway out the door when she calls your name. You turn, expecting another warning.

Instead, her gaze flicks down your body once, measuring, but with an edge you can't miss.

“You slip up in the field,” she says quietly, “and I won't hesitate to put a bullet in your leg to slow you down.” 

The threat should make you nervous. Instead, it makes your blood sing.

You wink. “Kinky.”

The door shuts behind you with a soft hiss. And for the first time since you arrived at SHIELD, you realise something dangerous. You want her.

Not just her body, though that was part of it, it’s the way she moves, the silence she carries, the layers of restraint coiled like a spring under her skin. 

You want to see her unravelled, and you want to be the one who does it.

Later that evening, Natasha stands in the dark of the training room, fists wrapped, hitting the bag with clinical precision. Her strikes are rhythmic and efficient, but her mind keeps drifting back to you.

That cocky smile. That infuriating confidence. The way you didn't flinch when she got in your space. Most people back down. You didn't even blink. 

She hates people like you. Except… she doesn’t.

Not really.

“Reckless,” she exasperated under her breath, slamming her fist into the bag. Her knuckles began to ache. But what's worse is that for one brief, stupid moment, she wanted to grab your face, slam you against the wall and kiss you. 

And the worst part? She still does.

~~~~~~~~~

The intel said “minimal resistance.”

Which, of course, meant bullets were already flying by the time you and Natasha reached the rendezvous point.

You press your back to the crumbling stone wall of the safe house, gun drawn, heart pounding. Dust trains from above with every distant explosion. It's dark, close, the air thick with gunpowder and adrenaline. 

Natasha’s bedside you, her shoulder brushing yours.

She doesn’t say anything, but you feel her body hum like a live wire. Her breathing is steady, her stance locked in, gaze razor-focused. The professional in her has taken over completely.

Even like this, with chaos outside the door, you can't help the tug in your chest. She's beautiful like this. Terrifying. And yet every brush of her arm against yours, every quiet glance, causes heat throughout your body. 

Completely unprofessional.

You shift closer, just enough that your lips are by her ear. “So much for minimal resistance.”

She doesn't flinch. “Next time, shut up and read the brief properly.”

You grin despite the danger. “Admit it, you missed me.”

Her head turns, sharp and slow, until her eyes meet yours. In the low light, they seem darker. 

“If I say yes, will you finally stop talking?”

You smirk. “No chance.”

But before she can respond, a burst of movement shatters the tension, three hostiles sweeping the alley outside. Without thinking, Natasha grabs your arm and yanks you back into the shadows, one hand pressed firmly against your chest.

Your back slams gently into the wall behind you. Her body covers yours, flush and close, her face inches from yours. The scent of her completely consumes you—her breath ghosts across your cheek.

You don’t move.

Neither does she.

She’s staring at you like she's trying to memorise your face in the dark. You wonder if she even realises how close she is. If she notices how her fingers have curled slightly against your jacket. How her lips part just enough that you could lean in– 

“Three seconds,” she whispers, breathless. “Then move.”

You swallow hard and nod once. She peels herself off you, silent as a shadow, and slips around the edge of the door. You follow close behind, your body still buzzing where she touched you.

The fight is fast and brutal.

You take down the first with a clean shot, then duck behind the corner as the second one returns fire. Natasha moves silently and precisely. But the last one, he comes at you from behind, fast. You don't see him until it's too late. 

The blade slices clean across your ribs. You gasp, stumbling backwards. Your hand flies to your side, already wet with blood.

Natasha sees red.

You don’t register the sound of her gun, but the hostile hits the ground in seconds, dead before he hits the ground. She’s on him, then on you, grabbing your arm, pulling you toward cover.

“Let me see,” she snaps, her voice suddenly not steady.

“I’m fine,” you hiss, breath catching. The pain is sharp, blooming hot and deep into your side. “It’s just a scratch.”

Natasha pulls your hand away from the wound. It’s not a scratch.

“You’re an idiot,” she argued, voice tight, jaw clenched as she tore into her gear for gauze. “A fucking reckless idiot.”

You hiss when the pressure hits. She doesn't ease up. Her hands are stained with your blood. Her fingers move fast, practised, but there’s a tremor under them you’ve never seen before. 

“You’ve been stabbed before, right?” you say, trying to lighten it. “This isn't even a top-five worst one for me.” 

She doesn't look at you. “Shut up.”

“Didn't realise you cared, Romanoff.” 

That gets her. Her eyes flick up, hard and unreadable. “I don’t.”

But her hand is cradling your side like she does.

~~~~~~~~

You don't make it to the rendezvous point that night. The safe house is compromised, and your wound is slowing you down. Natasha finds an abandoned cabin in the woods, crumbling and isolated, half-flooded with moonlight through broken glass.

She leads you inside, one arm under yours, guiding you gently despite her scowl.

“Sit,” she orders.

You do. Not because she told you to, but because you’re getting dizzy.

Nat kneels in front of you and starts undoing your tax vest. Her eyes never leave your face, not even when her fingers brush over your exposed ribs.

You can’t help but tease, even though there is pain. “You know, if you wanted to get me out of my clothes…”

Her glare is swift and deadly.

“I swear to god–”

But there's colour in her cheeks. Her hands are careful now, gently as she inspects the wound. The bleeding has slowed, but you’ll need stitches when you get back. 

She cleans it in silence. You watch her instead of the pain, watch the little crease between her brows, the way she bites the inside of her cheek when she's focused. You wonder how many times she's done this. You wonder how often she's done it alone. 

“You don’t have to patch me up like this,” you trail off.

“Someone has to.”

Her voice is flat, but then she adds, softer: “I don't like seeing you hurt.” 

You blink. She tapes the gauze down firmly and pulls back, eyes flicking to yours, vulnerable, just for a second.

“You scared me,” she admits. Quiet. Raw.

Your chest tightens.

“You're not supposed to care, remember?”

“I know,” she breathes. She opens her mouth to say something else but stops herself.

You don't move, and neither does she. The silence is thick and soft, almost sacred.

Then she rises to her feet.

“Get some rest,” she says. “We move at dawn,” but as she turns away, you swear you see it, just for a moment. Her hand lingers at her side, like it wants to reach back for you.

~~~~~~~

The next morning is quiet. Too quiet. You wake in the dusty cabin, badanged and stiff, and weak, to find Natasha already moving. She's dressed, armed, and pacing outside, as if the night never happened. 

Fine. You can play this game.

By the time you return to HQ, the mission is scrubbed, and your injury earns you ten days off rotation. You three showed up at the training room with a half-healed side and a smirk. 

Natasha’s already there, because of course she is.

Wearing her black tank top, hair tied up, and an expression like she hasn’t thought about that cabin at all.

“Shouldn’t you be on light duty?” she asks, not even looking at you.

“Thought I'd stretch my legs,” you say, shrugging off your jacket, keeping all wincing to a minimum in front of her. “Besides, wouldn't want you to get soft without me around.” 

Her head turns slowly, that look could kill a man, which only makes you grin wider.

The spar starts cold and controlled. You trade blows in silence, each movement familiar. You've done this dance before. But there's something different now. 

Something taut in the air. Every graze of her hand. Every shift of weight. You’re no longer sure if it's tension or desire. Probably both.

She grabs your wrist mid-strike and twists, a clean and efficient move. You let her, pivoting, sliding behind her, your breath at her neck.

“You’re getting slow,” you whisper teasingly.

She slams her elbows into your ribs, causing pain to shoot through your still-healing side, and you grunt, stumbling back. 

Natasha freezes, “You okay?” she asks sharply.

You straighten, breathing through the pain. “Takes more than a love tap to put me down, Romanoff.”

Her eyes narrow. “You're not healed.”

“I'm not fragile.”

She steps forward suddenly, crowding into your space. Not angry, just close, your breathing fails. 

“You could tear the stitches,” she chastises. 

You don't move. “Are you worried about me?”

“No,” she lies, instantly.

And you should stop, you should let the silence take over, but you don't.

Instead, you reach up and brush a lock of hair from her face, slowly, like you’re testing her limits. Her breath hitches, just slightly.

“You ever think about it?” you ask quietly.

Her brow furrows. “About what?”

“This,” you say gently. “About what it would feel like. If you didn't hold back.”

Her fingers twitch. Your faces are so close now that you can feel her exhale against your lips.

And then it happens. She kisses you. Hard. Sudden.

It's teeth and its desperation. Her hands are fists in your shirt. You taste the frustration in her, the control she's been denying herself, the heat that's been simmering for days, weeks.  

You kiss her back just as hard. Your body aches from the effort, but you don’t care. You want her to lose control just once.

But just as quickly, she pulls back. You reach for her again, and she jerks away like you burned her.

“No.”

It's a whisper—a plea.

Her chest is heaving. She looks like she's about to break something or run.

“That didn’t happen,” she said, voice void of all emotion.

You blink in surprise. “Nat–”

“I said it didn't happen.”

And then she's gone. Out the door before you’re even able to taste her truly.

You stay where you are, breathless and raw, forgetting all about the pain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rain starts halfway through the drive. Cold and endless. Beating against the SUB like it’s punishing the road itself.

Natasha drives in silence, hands tight on the wheel, jaw set in that perfect, unreadable line. You sit in the passenger seat, arms folded, watching the way the water streaked down the glass like something out of a movie, you're not supposed to feel anything about. 

She hasn’t said a word since the mission ended.

Another weapons bust. Clean execution. One cracked rib on your end, a busted lip on hers. Still breathing, still walking, still pretending.

It’s been two weeks since the kiss.

Two weeks since she pulled away like “nothing happened,” and left you standing there with your lips tingling and fingers twitching to stop her leaving.

Now she won't even look at you.

The motel is a forgotten thing on the edge of a nowhere town. Flickering neon, peeling paint.

Nat grabs the key from the front desk, nodding once without speaking.

You already know what’s coming.

“Only one bed?” you ask, just loud enough to be a little smug.

She doesn’t answer.

You both step inside the room. It's a small one-bedroom, queen-sized room with faded sheets, a chair that sat suspiciously in the corner of the room facing the bed, and the bathroom light flickers twice before staying on. 

You toss your bag down with a groan, stretching your arms over your head.

Natasha glances at you from the corner of her eye.

“Don't look so smut,” she says under her breath.

“I'm not smug. I'm relaxed. There's a difference.” 

“You’re impossible.”

“You already said that.”

She opens her mouth, probably to argue, but then pauses. She's starting at your side, where your shirt has ridden up slightly from the stretch.  

Her gaze sharpens.

You glance down and realise the gauze is gone now, and it is in place, the sca. Still healing and fresh, risen along your skin. Right where she had stitched you up on returning to SHIELD. 

Her face changes. Like something in her chest caves inward. She doesn't speak. Holds her breath and just stares.

“Hey,” you say softer now. “It's healed.”

She doesn’t answer.

Her eyes trace the shape of the scar like it's a wound she still hasn't forgiven herself for. She steps forward before she realises it, then stops. Like being near you costs her something she isn't ready to pay. 

“It’s my fault,” she says quietly.

You frown. “What?”

“That you got hurt. I missed the angle. I should have cleared the alley better. I didn't see him.” 

You shake your head and take a step forward. “That's not on you. That's combat.” 

“I'm trained to prevent combat casualties.” 

“Jesus, Natasha. I survived. And I'm not a casualty, I'm your partner.” 

Her eyes flash at that. “No, you’re not.”

You blink. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you can't be,” she bites out. “I can't… I won't have that kind of risk. Not with you.” 

Something softens in your chest. You take a step toward her. She doesn’t move. Not yet.

“You keep pretending that none of this is happening,” you plead. “Like you didn't kiss me. Like you don't care if I get hurt. But you do.” 

She swallows. You press forward.

“You do care, Nat. And it scares the hell out of you.”

Her mouth parts, no sound. Her fists clench at her sides. You can see it all in her eyes, the want, the guilt, the resistance. She’s trying not to shake and trying not to feel.

And she’s failing.

You don't kiss. Not yet.

You walk past her to the bed, toss one of the extra pillows to the floor, and start unzipping your boots.

“I’m not sleeping on the floor,” you say casually. “You can sulk all you want, but I'm not going to let a busted rib turn into a back injury.”

She stands frozen for a second, caught between instinct and impulse. Then, finally, she exhales.

“Fine,” she says stiffly, stepping forward. “Just.. stay on your side and I hope you don't talk in your sleep.”

“No promises.”

You crawl under the covers, back to her, body sore and burning with the weight of everything unsaid.

The bed dips as she lies beside you, silent, distant, but there.

Neither of you has slept for a long time.

At one point, you turn slightly, and you feel it–her fingers, barely grazing your back like she didn't mean to. Like she didn't know her body was moving toward yours even in the dark. 

You don't say anything. But you don't move away either.

~~~~~~~~~~

You wake before the sun. Barely.

The room is dim, cast in early blue light filtering through the bare curtains. You're on your side exactly where you fell asleep, and Natasha is still there. 

Close. Too close. She's lying on her back, one arm draped above her head, the other grazing your side, barely touching. Her body radiates heat beneath the covers. You can feel her warmth through the thin barrier of your shirt. Her breath is slow. Even 

But she's not asleep. You can tell by the way she's breathing. 

Tense. Awake. Waiting.

You shift slightly, just enough for your shirt to ride up an inch. You pretend not to notice. But she does. You feel her hand twitch. 

She’s looking at your scar again.

You stay still, waiting.

She exhales sharply. Controlled.

And then she moves.

Not fast, not rough, just with intention. Her hand slides up, palm pressing gently over your ribs, over the scar. Her thumb brushes the edge of it, slowly. Like she's memorising it. 

You suck in a breath.

“Natasha…”

She says nothing. Her hand stays there, resting lightly on your bare skin. Her body shifts, and then she's closer, her chest against your back, her breath ghosting over your neck and not touching your mouth, not kissing you. Just there. 

“I see it every time I close my eyes,” she whispers, voice raw.

You turn slightly, half on your back, enough to face her. Her hand doesn’t leave your side.

“It's a scar, I've got worse. I've got many.” 

“No,” she says, firmer now. “You don't. Not from me.”

She leans in before she can stop herself. Her lips press against the scar. Once. As if she's trying to take it back, as if she's praying it never happened. 

You feel it, her guilt, her longing.

And then her hand is on your stomach, sliding under your shirt, skin on skin. Her mouth follows, over your ribs, your stomach, soft open-mouthed kisses until your shirt bunched at your chest, and she's looking at you like she's already lost. 

“I told myself it didn’t matter,” she breathes. “That I could stay in control.”

You lift your hand to her cheek, gently. “You don't have to be in control with me, Natasha.”

And that’s when she snaps.

She kisses you like she's drowning in it, fingers tangled in your shirt, yanking it over your head before tossing it aside. Her mouth claims yours, hot and desperate, tongue sliding against yours like she needs to taste you again. 

You gasp as she rolls on top, straddling your hips, hands flat on either side of your head. Her body presses into yours, hard, like she wants to sink through your skin. Like she's afraid you'll disappear if she doesn't hold you down. 

Her lips move to your throat, nipping, licking, biting. Marks. She’s marking you.

You arch beneath her, breathless. “You’re not pretending now.”

“No,” she says gruffly. “Not this time.”

She kisses your chest, down your stomach, slow enough to make you ache. When her mouth returns to your scar, she kisses it again–this time with tongue, with teeth, until you're arching into her touch. Her hands grip your hips tightly, possessively. 

You thread your fingers into her hair, “Natasha, fuck, please.”

She doesn't answer, instead just slides lower, between your legs, removing your pants and underwear as she moves with deliberate slowness. 

Her eyes never leave yours as she asks, “You want this?”

You nod desperately, “I’ve wanted you since day one.”

Her smirk is sharp and hungry. “Then hold on.”

Her tongue meets you without hesitation, licking a long, slow stripe between your legs. You gasp, hips twitching, but her hands grip your thighs and pin you down. 

She works like a mission: precise, focused and ruthless. Every flick of her tongue, every swirl, every moan against your clit is meant ot undo you completely. And it works. Fast.

You’re panting in minutes, head thrown back, thighs trembling under her grip.

“Fuck, nat–just like that–”

She groans, the sound vibrating through you, sending heat spiralling to your core. 

“Cum for me,” she says, voice wrecked. “I need ot feel it on my tongue.”

You do. Hard.

Your back arches off the bed, your breath caught in your throat as pleasure rips through you. She doesn't stop, not until your hips jolt and your thighs tremble and you're gasping for breath. 

When she finally pulls back, her lips are slick, her eyes wild.

She crawls up your body, kissing your throat, your shoulder, that goddamn scar again.

“I’m not done,” she whispers.

And she isn't.

She pulls you into her lap, lips rashing into yours again, and slides her fingers inside you, deep, slow and intentionally, watching your face the whole time. 

You ride her hand, wrapped around her neck, clinging to her. She holds you close with her other arm around your back, whispering in Russian against your ear, a language you can barely begin to understand.

When you orgasm again, this time with your face buried in her neck, sobbing her name.

As your body shakes, her lips find your temple. And for the first time, she lets herself hold you like she means it.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun is barely rising when you stir again. You're tangled in the sheets, sore in all the bed ways, Natasha’s thigh warm between your legs and her arm draped lazily over your waist. 

She’s half asleep, hair loose, breathing even. 

You just stare. You've never seen her like this. Soft and still.

She shifts a little as you brush your fingers over her stomach, blinking awake, eyes hazy and mouth parted. She watches you in silence for a few seconds, that deep, unreadable calm in her gaze, before her fingers flex against your side and she muses, “You're staring.” 

"I like the view,” you say with a smirk.

That earns you an eye roll, but accompanied by a fake smile as well. 

You lean over and kiss her collarbone, your lips dragging slowly across her skin. “We’re not done.”

Her brows lift. "Oh?”

“You let me fall apart last night,” you speak against her throat. “Think it's my turn to ruin you.”

Her breath catches. You kiss down her chest, her stomach, dragging the sheets away as you move. She doesn't stop you, doesn't say a word, but her hips arch ever so slightly, betraying just how much she wants this. 

When your mouth hovers between her legs, she looks down at you, eyes dark and heavy with heat.

"You're cocky,” she says, voice still hoarse from sleep.

You smirk, lips brushing her inner thigh. “You bring out the best in me.”

Natasha exhaled hard when your tongue dips low, slow at first, teasing. You like a slow strip up her centre, and her hips twitch. 

“Don't tease,” she warns.

“Why not?” you say smugly. “You’ve been teasing me for weeks.”

You dip your tongue again, firmer this time, and she groans, head tilting back, fingers fisting the sheets.

When you start sucking her clit, tongue flicking in practised movements, her thighs begin to tremble.

“Fuck—” she gasps, hands flying to hold onto your head.

You pull back, just enough to look up at her, your mouth wet and smirking. “What was that, agent Romanoff?”

She glares, eyes glazing, hips already chasing your mouth again. “Shut up and put your mouth to use for once.”

God, you've never been so turned on. You obey, but not without the smug glint in your eye. 

You take her apart slowly, lips and tongue working in synch, fingers digging into her thighs to hold her steady. She's already shaking, breath shallow, curses spilling from her lips like she's been needing this for years. 

You glance up just as her head falls back, mouth open in a gasp, her hand tangling in your hair and pulling you deeper.

“Just like that,” she pants. “Good girl.”

You groan into her, fuck, that praise going straight to your cunt, and double down. Faster, deeper, until she’s gasping your name like a prayer.

She cums with a sharp cry, thighs squeezing around your head, back arching off the mattress. You don't stop until she’s trembling, fingers loosening, breath hitched.

When you finally pull back, your chin wet and your smirk unapologetic, she's staring at the ceiling.

You crawl up her body, kissing up her stomach, her chest, her throat, until you settle beside her.

“Still pretending?” you ask softly, fingers circling her abdomen.

“No, not anymore”, she says.

Silence falls, but not the heavy kind. The quiet is warm now, close, like something safe and earned.

Her fingers find yours under the sheets, and she laces them together.

You glance down. She's looking at your hand like it might disappear.

“You okay?” ask you gently.

Natasha hesitates. “I don't know what to do with this.”

You squeeze her fingers. “We’ll figure it out.”

She lets out a shaky breath. “I’ve never let myself have anything like this.”

“Then it's about damn time you did.”

You lean over and press a kiss to your temple. And for the first time since you met her, Natasha Romanoff doesn't pull away. 

[hyunjincanraptoo]

Hyunjin's muscles

Happy Sunday with Hyun's muscles 🤭 (wait for the last one 🔥)

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: it doesn't have a full sex scene but this is definitely nsfw. Mdni!

Alexa, play Mania de você by Rita Lee (I love her sm 😭)

Things you’d do to Hyunjin’s muscles (and he’d act dramatic about it, but secretly love every second):

Biting Hyunjin’s bicep during a teasing fight:

 You’re arguing again. He said something dumb and smug, and now he’s grinning like he won the conversation— arms crossed, sleeves pushed up, muscles showing just to distract you. So you grab his arm and bite his bicep.

Not hard but enough to leave a mark. He gasps so dramatically like you stabbed him.

"Did you just…?!”, he pulls his arm back and stares at it in disbelief, “You just bit my gentle muscles?!”

"Gentle??”

“Yes!”, he holds his arm like he needs ice, “Do you have any idea how hard I work to keep them smooth and sculpted and beautiful?! And you just… you attack me?”

You giggle,“I just wanted a little taste”

“Well, next time, ask first”, then he mumbles, “Or kiss it after. Yeah, that’s the rule now”

You roll your eyes but lean in and kiss his “gentle” muscle

Making him lift you just because he can:

You wrap your arms around his neck and ask sweetly, “Can you carry me?”

He scoffs like it’s the easiest request in the world, “Obviously”

Then he lifts you— bridal style with his head tilted back, groaning like it’s a weightlifting competition

You giggle, trailing your fingers down his bicep, “Damn, you’ve been working out. These arms are…”

He cuts you, “Perv”

You open your mouth to protest, but he suddenly shifts his grip like he might drop you.

"Say one more thing about my muscles and I will let you fall”

You cling tighter, "You wouldn’t”

He smirks, “Keep talking to find out”

Then he spins you in a full circle, laughing when you squeak again.

“You are insane, bro”, you mutter.

"I am not your bro. I am your boyfriend”, he corrects you

Painting on his back while he reads on his stomach:

He’s shirtless, stretched out on the floor with a poetry book in his hands. You’re bored so, naturally, you grab your brush and dip it in lavender paint.

“You better not…”, he warns without even looking up.

But it’s too late— he feels a swirl on his shoulder blade.

Hyunjin exhales through his nose. Not annoyed, just dramatic.

“Why do you treat me like a canvas?”

"Because you are one. A very toned, stupidly beautiful canvas”

He giggles, holding back a smile, “You’re such a perv”

But he sets the book aside anyway and rests his head on his arms, “Fine, you can paint me. I’ll pretend this isn’t just an excuse to touch me”

You grin and keep going. You paint flowers, random lines, a few smudged hearts. He only flinches when it tickles followed by one of his adorable giggles.

“Ok, I am done”, you say proudly

"You missed a spot. Middle of my back”

You laugh as he smiles shyly against the floor trying to hide how much he enjoyed it.

Pressing your hands and face to his bare back, just to feel him:

He’s fresh out of the shower, drying his hair with a towel. And his back? Exposed.

You don’t say a word. You just stop behind him, press your palms flat against his bare back then slowly lean in, resting your cheek between his shoulder blades

"Are you okay, babe?”

“You’re warm”, you murmur.

He swallows. His hands stop moving, towel forgotten

"You can’t just… do that” he says, voice a shaky

"Why not?”

“Because I… get flustered”

You smile against his skin, then kiss where your cheek had been resting. He arches slightly, breath catching in his throat.

"I swear” he mutters, “you’re gonna be death of me”

You wrap your arms around his waist from behind. He doesn’t move at firdt. Then eventually, he drops the towel and turns, arms sliding around you with a soft sigh, like he is holding the most precious thing ever.

Tracing your tongue along the V-line he pretends not to know he has:

The room is on fire, bodies tangled, sheets kicked halfway down the bed. Hyunjin’s beneath you— breathless, flushed, hips lifting instinctively every time you grind down.

You slow the rhythm suddenly, trailing your mouth along his stomach. He gasps when your tongue traces the V line, right above his hip.

"Shit…” he moans

He shudders when you do it again, “You’re cruel”

You press another kiss at the edge of his hip, “You knew what you were doing when you hit the gym”

His hand finds your hair, trembling.  And when you look up, his mouth is parted like he’s about to beg.

 Things Hyunjin would do with his muscles just to tease you (and then pretend he’s the victim when you react):

Rolling his sleeves up slowly while making eye contact:

It’s just a lazy morning. You’re talking about nothing when he slowly starts rolling up his sleeves. Painfully slowly, like he’s in a nsfw tv commercial.

His veins peek out, forearms flex— he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Naturally, you stare.

He pauses and then gasps

“Are you…”, he blinks at you, faking innocence, “Objectifying me right now?!”

You roll your eyes, “You literally rolled them up in slow motion right in front of me”

"I was hot”

“You are hot, Hyunjin”

He fails at trying to bite back a smirk as he starts rolling the other sleeve up. Even slower this time.

Coming behind you at the sink and casually caging you in with his arms:

You’re just washing the dishes, minding your business, when you feel him step behind you— one arm on either side of the counter, muscles brushing your shoulders like it’s a coincidence.

He leans in close, draping himself around you, and hums, clearly amused.

"Hyunjin”

“Hum?” he says, smugly.

"Move”

"I moved” he rests his chin on your shoulder, “Closer”

You roll your eyes and of course he’s already grinning.

“Haven’t you missed me?” he murmurs, lips ghosting your ear. 

That’s when you feel it— his hips press against your ass, his abs against your back 

Your breath catches and an involuntary small whine escapes your throat as your fingers tighten around the edge of the sink.

He hums, pleased

Lying on the bed, arms behind his head, looking like a dream:

You walk into the bedroom and stop at your tracks. Hyunjin’s stretched out on the sheets, tank top clinging in all the right places, arms folded behind his head like a model in a photoshoot.

He blinks up at you when you raise an eyebrow

"What?” he asks, with the most unconvincing innocence you’ve ever heard, “This is just how I relax”

Your gaze drops to the sculpted biceps, the bare skin, the smirk he’s trying to hide

“You’re exhausting”, you mutter.

He sighs, long and dramatic, “I know. But sadly for you… I’m yours” 

You throw a pillow at him and he catches it smirking. Caught in the act

Flexing his abs when he comes just to make you come faster:

He's already close. You can feel it in the way the rhythm falters, the way his grip tightens on your hips, the way his breath turns even more ragged against your skin. And then— he does it. Flexes. On purpose.

His abs tighten, pulling tight with every movement as he throws his head back and groans through his release— a deep, wrecked sound that sends heat straight down your core.

And of course his plan works cause you come seconds later, body shaking, nails digging into him like you’re both furious and grateful for what he just did.

He’s still panting when murmurs, “Why are you looking at me like I did something wrong? I was just trying to motivate you”

You scoff, heart still racing.

He brushes his lips over your jaw, smirking, “Did it work?”

You don’t answer— he already knows the answer. He can feel it, still pulsing around him.

His smirk grows even wider as he presses a kiss to your cheek, voice clearly pleased.

"Yeah… definitely worked”

Jeongin's version

Ateez's version

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[bbyg4rl]

୨୧ ─ when you and jj break the couch . . .

cw: REQUESTED / jj x reader, SMUT, breaking furniture, cockwarming.

Movie night didn’t last long. It never does with you two. One second you were under the blanket, curled up next to JJ with your legs in his lap, and the next, he was on top of you, pull-out couch mattress creaking beneath your bodies as he fucked you fast and deep, your thighs hooked over his hips.

You’re both half-dressed, clothes shoved out of the way like neither of you could wait long enough to undress properly. His hair is damp with sweat, his chest sticky against yours, and every grind of his hips pulls a breathy whimper from your mouth.

“God, you feel unreal,” he mutters, dragging his cock out to the tip and sliding back in with a groan. “So fuckin’ wet for me, baby. Gonna lose my mind if you keep suckin’ me in like that.”

You're about to push yourself up and kiss him when you hear a crack. The middle beam of the pull-out couch snaps. A loud, splintered pop and then a sudden drop, both of your bodies dipping down in the middle like a sinkhole just opened under you. You both freeze. “...Did we just fuckin’ break it?” JJ pants, blinking rapidly like he’s panicking.

You’re wide-eyed, your hands clinging to his arms, nails digging into his skin, breath caught in your throat. JJ huffs a half-laugh, then leans in, nose brushing yours, his voice turning dark. “Guess I just gotta tell John B what happened to his fuckin’ furniture.”

You’re about to talk back but the only noise that leaves you is a whine when he grinds into you again, back arching. It’s even deeper now, the broken dip in the frame forcing his cock to hit new angles that make your vision blur. “Oh fuck—JJ—”

He hums in response, one hand cupping the back of your thigh to keep you steady while the other grips your waist, holding you down to take his perfect, punishing strokes.

“Yeah? You like that?” he pants. “You like letting me fuck you so hard this damn couch couldn't take it? You want me to ruin shit for you, huh?”

You whimper, head spinning, and he just slams in harder, driving the rest of the busted frame down with each thrust. The whole thing rocks beneath you, creaking and whining, until you’re sure it’s going to collapse completely, but JJ doesn’t stop. “Shit’s already broken,” he mutters, panting hard. “Might as well finish the fuckin’ job.”

He hooks your legs tighter around him and starts pounding you into the wrecked mattress, breathing ragged, watching your face twist every time he bottoms out. One hand trails down, pressing the heel of his palm into the mound above your pussy, making you whimper and your thighs quiver around him. “Fuck, baby,” he rasps. “Look at how good you’re taking me.”

You’re shaking now, half-lost to it. You lift your head slightly to look down where your bodies connect, watching his cock disappear between your thighs, crying out when his hand slips lower between your legs and rubs quick, filthy circles over your clit. “JJ—I’m gonna—,” you whimper, eyes locking with his.

“Do it,” he growls. “Mess up this fuckin’ couch. Want your cum on my cock while I ruin what’s left of this thing.”

You clamp down, body shuddering as you cum hard around him, and he grunts, hips stuttering as he follows you with a low, broken moan, spilling deep, cock twitching inside you.

You both collapse in the hollowed-out dent of the destroyed pull-out, breathing hard, the blanket half-slid off onto the floor. JJ chuckles against your neck, pulling you into his lap. “Guess we’re watching the rest of the movie on the floor.”

You nuzzle into his neck while he covers you with the blanket, he’s still inside you, still fucked out in that post orgasmic haze. You can feel his breath hitch everytime your walls flutter. You sit silently on him, arms around his neck, then after a beat, you murmur into his skin, “Are you gonna tell John B?”

“He’ll never know, baby,” he whispers back, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

♡ requested by anon for ꒰ ⑅ ๑  𝟗𝟗𝟗 : : RELEASE ꒱

check out my — masterlist / 2k celebration ૮꒰•༝ •。꒱ა

[thetrasha]

Request:

"hi tasha, may i request you one where fem!reader holds his arm when she gets scared and he starts feeling funny and seeking her touch? thought about Law, Zoro, Usopp and Buggy"

((Sorry for posting this one again. I fear the original might have broken my tumblr 🤡 This was Schrödinger's post - I couldn't even edit it because tumblr said it was a draft and post at the same time bye))

Of course you may, anon ╰(*°▽°*)╯ I loved this request so much and the character selection was also amazing!! My first Usopp request LOL I hope you enjoy this silly scenario 🫡Take care and happy reading~

The Awkward Lovers Tango

feat. LAW, ZORO, USOPP, BUGGY

LAW

“It’s just a splinter.”

“Law!”, you whined, almost begging him, “Make it quick!”

“Okay. Breathe in… and out…”

You mimicked his calm breathing, loudly breathing in through your nose and exhaling via your mouth. Your chests rose in tandem, watching each other closely.

Your eyes followed his gloved hand as it calmly rested upon your shoulder. He felt you tense up under his light touch as your eyes fluttered close in nervousness, anticipating a sting that never came. his hand calmly moving towards your shoulder.

Your eyes slowly opened up to reveal the neutral face of your captain.

“In… and out… repeat after me.” He breathed in loudly, clutching a pair of tweezers behind his back. The hand that rested on your shoulder squeezed you reassuringly, silently encouraging you to follow his lead.

“In and out… in and out… in and o-OUCH!”

Your state of tranquil was immediately cut short, eyes and hands snapping up.

“…All done.”, he said, somehow strained.

Your eyes trailed after his and landed right on your own... other hand.

You didn’t even realise that you were basically crushing his arm beneath your grip, clinging to him like he was going to disappear at any moment. A meek exhale escape your lips, but you couldn’t even focus on the sensation because Law held intense eye contact with you.

You ripped your hand away from him as you’d been burnt, causing your captain to frown in disapproval –

– It might have sounded crazy… but he had to clear his throat to regain his composure in front of you. For some reason, your touch involuntarily caused a physical reaction… goosebumps. Although his skin should have been hot to the touch due to the sheer strength you put into your grip, ice cold tingles ran up and down his entire arm. It felt weird, especially his quickened heartbeat. Usually, that would be cause for concern, but Law wasn’t stupid.

You could probably see how much his pupils dilated at the mere sight of you since he was so horrendously attracted to you.

“Stand up.”, he ordered curtly, attempting to sound cold to hide his feelings. This was just another obstacle – this ‘crush’ would pass. Yeah, it has persisted for about nine months now, but that was… totally normal.

You obliged immediately, smiling at him when he handed you a plaster.

Law rolled his eyes when you asked him to put it on you instead. He wanted to make it seem like he was deeply annoyed by your request, even though, deep down, he was overjoyed.

If he could pretend well enough, this would have been a romantic moment instead – the exact second where your hands would touch his for the first time. In his mind, the gloves didn’t even exist. It was just your warm hand pressed against his. The pads of your fingers were so soft, much different from his calloused ones. Your fingers were long and feminine, effortlessly mirroring your elegance. You were such a beauty and every part of you truly was a work of art.

If only this wasn’t some play pretend.

“Are we done now?”, Law grunted.

“Yes, Captain! Thanks.”

“…Get back to work.”, he sighed.

And watched longingly as you left the med bay, eyes following your every move.

ZORO

“You had a nice nap, Zoro?” The swordsman only grunted in reply as you were making your way towards the dining room for dinner. You’d woken up the First Mate because he’d really fallen asleep next to you – something you were both unfamiliar with – and then accompanied each other on your short walk towards the room that was already smelling like a divine feast.

Just before you could ask another question, Luffy zoomed right past you, his rubber arms snapping forward like a whip; he grabbed the doorframe leading into the dining area and laughed as he screamed for Sanji to hurry up.

You were so surprised if not frightened by the wind that’d blown past you that you held onto Zoro’s arm in search of silent protection.

“You know… that actually hurts.”, Zoro commented in an almost bored tone, watching you with absolutely disinterest as you raised a hand to your chest. You were so shaken that you started panting, not even realising that your source of fright was probably sitting at the table with a cheeky giggle.

Your eyes zeroed in on Zoro who almost lifted you off the ground as soon as he raised the arm you clung to, looking at you with an arrogant smirk. You blinked before slowly letting go of him, finger by finger. You slumped in on yourself, knowing this is what this man had been waiting for; the same man you’ve reprimanded many times for trying to save you in battle… as if he was defending some fair maiden’s honour.

Zoro was no knight in shining armour and you were no damsel in distress; that’s what you’ve always told him. And he got irrationally irritated at your stubbornness… even though you knew that he was the most stubborn man there is. It was an insult to have that personality trait associated with you when he was right there!

“No wonder you keep breaking our training equipment. You’ve got a crazy grip, woman.”

“Zoro!”

He raised his arms in mock apology, chuckling down at you.

Twice. You’d broken one of his training swords twice. And he was never going to let you live it down! You groaned before you playfully balled your hands into fists. You approached him before you started punching his chest repeatedly, whining loudly because you couldn’t actually hurt him. Your heart wouldn’t allow it.

And neither would his. That sudden burst of euphoria that engulfed him should have been a pretty good indicator to pay Chopper a visit, but to be fair… Zoro’s always felt pretty much invincible next to you. You were a fantastic pirate and a respectable sword-wielder, even if you lose your footing quite easily… And since he always keeps an eye out for you on the battlefield, he’s right there to assist you with his own strength while you’re trying to correct your mistake.

Luckily for the both of you, your rivalry was playful and not to be taken seriously.

It’s just why he sought you out more than others – plus, it didn’t blow his cover. The usually so confident Zoro was reduced to mere mush next to you.

He admired you greatly, mainly for your sweetness. He was perplexed that someone so skilled could be so adorable, but before that thought could fully register within it, it had already festered.

…Zoro had fallen in love with you.

Perhaps that’s why it was so easy to tease you by grabbing your fists mid-air and staring down at you with an intense that couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. You’d immediately know that he wanted y-

“WHY ARE YOU GUYS ACTING LIKE A COUPLE?!”, Sanji shouted with fire in his eyes, already stretching his legs to kick Zoro away from you, “(Y/N)-swan is too good for YOU! She’s a delicate flower who wouldn’t be satisfied with a BRUTE, someone who wouldn’t even know romance when it hit him square in the face. I’m the only one who-”

Zoro, meanwhile, rolled his sleeves up with gritted teeth.

USOPP

“Careful! It has –“

“AH!”

“–… recoil.”

Your hand instinctively wrapped itself around his forearm as you stumbled backwards. He was unsteady on his feet due to your hard grip and he clumsily crashed into you when you pulled him in.

So… the weapon Usopp came up with for you wasn’t foolproof.

You started apologising profusely for messing up – especially since he’s taken up this project un-prompted. He just wanted to help you out and further your personal development and indulge in your desire to help the crew during battle… Usopp was so sweet and you couldn’t even wait until he’d fully explained himself. Gosh! What if this had been like the contraption he invented for Nami?! You could have electrocuted the both of you!

“Ahaha, it’s fine, it’s fine. Don’t worry! This baby can take a proper beating! I’ve designed it so it can withstand up to two hund-”

Usopp’s voice became quieter and quieter before he could explain the gadget he came up with for your convenience. He trailed off, his dark brown hues suddenly hyper-aware of your hand that still gingerly held onto him.

D-don’t get him wrong!

It’s not like he didn’t like it. It was just… surprising. Pleasantly surprising, of course!

It’s just that you were so pretty and funny and kind… and you always took care of him and read his emotions effortlessly, always knowing what to say or do to cheer him up, but he was just Usopp instead of a brave warrior of the sea, so… there was no chance in the world that you’d ever like him like that.

You were more accomplished even though you joined the crew later than he did, you probably didn’t even notice that you were touching him.

He shouldn’t be so happy that you were so warm and smelled so nice at all. You were just as close to all the other men, it was silly trying to interpret anything else into your actions, even if, good God, he wanted nothing more than to lean in an-

“Usopp?”, you asked, squeezing his arm gently.

“T-the great Captain Usopp totally didn’t think about weird things. Why are you asking me about- wait.”

“Usopp…”, you laughed, suddenly pulling him in.

He could just squeal in surprise before his brain initiated meltdown protocol when you held him flush against you, giggling at his stupefied demeanour. He was completely stumped, mouth wide open without any words coming out. Some lone sounds managed to escape, but everything was unintelligible.

“Thank you so much for caring about me, Usopp.”, you concluded kindly, smiling at him one last time before you tested your new weapon again…

But Usopp just stood there, frozen in place.

BUGGY

“Showtime, (Y/N).”

“WAH!”

Fireworks went off right next to you as Buggy dragged you towards the crowd who was waiting for a fun circus performance. Today, you were here to announce, alongside Buggy, who was overseeing everything with under strict scrutiny, every act. You were wearing a glittery costume that somehow matched the clown’s essence.

The sudden explosions did scare you so bad that you could just stare at the people with wide eyes. Your arm was curled around Buggy’s… and as soon as it registered to you that you were carelessly touching your captain – the very same that was expecting you to do your job – you let go with a face that felt like it was on fire.

You laughed sheepishly, waving at the crowd who cheered… with mild interest.

Before you could step away from Buggy, though, his hand grasped yours.

Subtly, you tried to take a glance at him as the acrobats were getting ready right behind you, but the Star Clown refused to look at you. And… his face was crimson red.

He couldn’t believe it. Really, him? You were trying to shield yourself from trouble by turning to… him? Was it April Fools? Some sort of joke? Surely, you didn’t see a reliable man in your captain. Buggy knew that he looked grotesque – even when he wasn’t dazzling in his costume, glittery makeup and signature arrogance. Most people didn’t even think that he was capable of piracy if they didn’t know him. He was very much aware of that fact that he looked like a pathetic loser. A loser who, certainly, found his way to success, but a fraud nonetheless.

It was funny how the crowd liked you more than the ringleader himself – not just because you were easy on the eyes, but mostly because you didn’t have the same bad attitude as your captain… – which is exactly why he changed your job from performer to announcer. You were the showstopper this pathetic cabaret needed. And… he liked seeing you in the spotlight, preferably right next to him.

Of course, your own Captain had to fall for you – and was thus fixated on drilling it into people’s head that you were taken. Well, maybe not taken. But claimed. Yes, that’s it… Buggy was simply trying to send a message before he could actually muster up enough courage to confess his feelings to you. So far, nothing worked. Not even pure vodka shots would make him sing, his throat always dried up around you.

You were so bright, an actual star. So hopeful and essential to life. You were a vital part of his life ever since you’d joined, but he didn’t think that he’d have to suppress a purr at your touch. Was he a damn cat?! No, he was a pirate captain! A dangerous one! One who’s soon defeat-

You squeezed his hand at the crowd’s roar, dragging him with you to get out of the performer’s way. Buggy blushed even worse, somehow thinking that you could… read his mind… how... embarrassing...

[castielscaplan]

Future Holds Me (billy hargrove)

Summary: You and Billy get interrupted by Max and Eleven.

Warnings: Fluff

WC: 1K

requested: by @fandom-princess-forevermore my beloved <3\\ You asked about domestic fluff for Billy Hargrove. It's simple for me: Billy and his girlfriend are enjoying some quiet, intimate time when Max and Eleven interrupt to talk boys or other stuff. They all bond, and when she returns to Billy, the subject of kids is brought up, and she pictures Billy as a cute girl dad.

Read on A03!

--

The soft glow of the afternoon sun filtered through the curtains of Billy’s bedroom, casting a warm light across the quiet space. You and Billy were tangled up on the bed, limbs intertwined as you lay in the comfortable silence. His fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on your arm while you rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“This is nice,” you murmured, tilting your head to look up at him. His lips curled into a rare, soft smile, his usual cocky demeanor melted away in the comfort of your closeness.

“Yeah, it is,” Billy replied, his voice low and husky. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, making your heart flutter. Moments like this were rare, where he let his guard down completely, and you treasured them.

Before you could lose yourself completely in the moment, the door to Billy’s room swung open without warning. Startled, you both sat up, your peaceful bubble instantly burst by the two girls standing in the doorway—Max and Eleven.

"Hey!" Max greeted cheerfully, completely oblivious to the intimate moment she’d just interrupted. Eleven gave a small wave, her expression more reserved but curious as ever.

Billy groaned, flopping back onto the pillows with a dramatic sigh. “Seriously?” he muttered under his breath. “Can’t you two go bother someone else?”

Max ignored him completely, her attention already focused on you. “We were looking for you!” she said, her eyes lighting up. “We wanted to talk about boys.”

“Yeah, boys,” Eleven chimed in with a small smile, though her understanding of the subject was still a bit limited.

You laughed, sitting up a bit straighter. “Oh, yeah? Well, you’ve come to the right person.”

Billy rolled his eyes and sat up, clearly irritated at being interrupted. “You’re really going to leave me for this?” he asked, half-joking but with an edge of genuine annoyance.

“I’ll be right back,” you promised, leaning down to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. He grumbled something under his breath but let you go.

You followed Max and Eleven out of the room and into the living room, where the three of you plopped down on the couch. The conversation flowed easily, with Max teasing you about Billy and Eleven asking curious questions about relationships. It was fun, bonding with the girls, and you could feel the sisterly affection Max had for you, especially now that she trusted you with her brother.

“Do you think Billy’s…good boyfriend material?” Max asked suddenly, raising an eyebrow as if genuinely unsure. Eleven’s eyes widened with interest.

You chuckled, thinking about how soft and gentle Billy could be when it was just the two of you. “He’s a lot better than he seems,” you admitted. “He just doesn’t show that side of himself to everyone.”

Max made a face, clearly not convinced. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Eventually, the conversation shifted from boys to other things, and by the time you were ready to head back to Billy, you felt a deeper connection to the two girls. They waved you off, satisfied with their bonding session, and you made your way back to Billy’s room, where he was sprawled out on the bed, looking impatient.

“Took you long enough,” he grumbled as you crawled back into bed beside him.

“Sorry, we got distracted,” you said, snuggling up next to him again. “They’re really sweet.”

Billy sighed, wrapping his arm around you again, though this time there was something more thoughtful about his expression. He was quiet for a few moments before he spoke again.

“You’re good with them,” he said softly, almost like he didn’t want to admit it. “With Max. And even with El. I’m not really…good at that kind of thing.”

You glanced up at him, surprised by the shift in his tone. “You could be,” you said gently. “You’re good when you try. Max looks up to you, even if she doesn’t show it.”

Billy’s expression softened, his blue eyes meeting yours with a vulnerability that he rarely showed. “I dunno,” he muttered. “Sometimes I think maybe I wouldn’t be so bad at that…you know, having kids.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. You had never talked about the future like this, not seriously. But now that he’d brought it up, you couldn’t help but imagine it — Billy as a dad, maybe even a girl dad. You could picture him with a little girl on his shoulders, her giggles filling the air as he pretended to be annoyed but secretly loving every second of it.

“You’d be cute as a girl dad,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Billy looked at you like you’d just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. “A girl dad?”

“Yeah,” you said, grinning now. “You’d be overprotective and teach her how to stand up for herself. She’d wrap you around her little finger, and you’d let her get away with everything.”

He snorted, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you teased, imagining a little girl with his blonde curls and piercing blue eyes, running around causing trouble just like him. “She’d be your mini-me.”

Billy’s smirk faded a little as he considered it, his expression growing serious. “I don’t know if I’d be good at it. I never had a good example, you know?”

You reached up, cupping his cheek with your hand. “You’d be better than you think, Billy. You’ve got a good heart, even if you don’t show it to everyone.”

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, they were soft, filled with an emotion you rarely saw from him. “Maybe,” he murmured. “One day.”

“One day,” you echoed, your heart swelling with the thought of a future you hadn’t fully considered until now.

Billy smiled at you, a real smile this time, before pulling you closer. “Guess we’ll see.”

And in that moment, wrapped up in his arms, you couldn’t help but believe that maybe, just maybe, Billy could be the dad you pictured him as — protective, loving, and better than he ever gave himself credit for.