#i know those are sleeves of a long shirt under the dress but i thought it would be fun to knit them as arm warmers?

[nvexe]

there's only one real con in my area so I have lots of time to think about cosplay and then usually not do it... last year I did ema skye for my first time but I'm kinda considering kurashiki akane for this year?

[heavenbarnes]

anyways, as i was saying about older bf!simon and his willingness to please learn

pt 2 to this

“you ever heard of a nut video with sound on?”

obviously, he hasn’t- far as he’s concerned, if you haven’t told him about it then it doesn’t exist to him.

no skin off your nose, you’d spend the rest of your life teaching him about the ‘latest trends’ if it meant he kept sending those filthy fucking videos to your phone.

(your favourites on tiktok were purely filled with ideas)

he’s holed up in a remote location, killing time till he can be home and actually do something to you rather than send you a bloody video about it.

your instructions come through clear and concise, just how he likes:

“it’s what’s written on the can, si- you can pick the setup but i just want to see you cum and, most importantly, i want to hear it”

you’re lucky simon is such a practical guy and maybe you could thank price one day for making him so good at following orders.

when he’s got his alone time he’s setting his phone up to record on the edge of the window sill, moonlight fighting through the curtain to illuminate him.

he’s lost the bulkiest of his gear, down to his tactical trousers and a compression t-shirt. the images in his tattoo sleeve almost move when the light catches them right.

balaclava on (the one that just shows his eyes above the painted image of a skull) and he’s standing up to undo his belt (that you think looks like an airplane seatbelt).

you can hear his boots against the floorboard as he steps back to give you the full view of him undoing his trousers, taking his sweet time because he knows it drives you fucking batty.

he’s so big that the phone is working overtime to get all of him in the frame but you see exactly what you need to- thick thighs at your eye line and massive hands drawing down his fly.

on (you assume) the other side of the globe, you’re at home in your shared bed and you’re propped up right in the middle with the smell of simon engulfing you as you watch the video play out before you.

(if you’d thought about it you should’ve cast it to the bedroom tv, hoping the neighbours didn’t mind)

simon sits back down with his legs spread wide, one hand gripping his thigh as the other rubs himself over his boxers. his eye contact with the camera was fucking intense, like you’d hoped, just like when he’s on top of you.

he’s dressed in all black and the moonlight is obscured but you can still see him firming up in his pants. his eyes flutter, an infinitesimal amount but you’ve been tuned into his every move since you met him.

your thumb leans hard on the volume up button and you can hear the diegetic sound of the building expanding and that usual technical hum that comes with a video. but at this pitch, you could hear him.

his breathing was chopped, chest expanding visibly as he pulled his cock out into clear view. jeeeeesus christ, it was never something you just got used to.

long, reasonably straight, fucking thick. even his hand struggled to make it look smaller as he wrapped around it, giving one dry tug.

as he closed his palm over the tip, you saw him make a swipe before he brought his hand back down considerably smoother than before. you’d had your hands down his pants enough times, man leaked like a fucking faucet.

simon’s head tipped back as he started to pull himself off, balaclava raising just enough to expose some of his throat. if you were there you would be perched in his lap, letting him do the work but running your tongue under the lip of the fabric.

one of the best things about the videos simon sent was, he didn’t really understand how sexy he was. he didn’t think any of the videos particularly watchable so he’d just send them on first take. if you liked them, you liked them- yours was the only opinion that mattered.

what that meant was, you never got b-roll. everything he sent you was unbridled perfection. captured exactly as it happens with no faffing about.

always whatever you’ve asked for, whenever you ask.

(simon’s nothing if not inexplicably obedient)

he brings his hand under his chin to spit into the wide span of his palm, wrapping back around his cock and tugging. his foreskin moved over the head, rolling back down and thick veins bulging under his grasp.

you’d almost forgotten the conditions of your request, totally fucking enamoured by the sight in front of you when it caught you off guard.

a guttural moan ripped out of simon’s chest as he twisted his wrist.

his free hand moved to cup his balls, big and heavy, he rolled them in his palm as another groan sounded out of him. what you wouldn’t give to be knelt between his thighs with the whole lot in your mouth.

you knew how much of an ask this was, you really had to work him up to making noise when it was just you two in bed. these days? you couldn’t shut the man up when he was balls deep and his face was buried in the crook of your neck.

but this was another step, this was him on his own with his crew just through the walls. he’d be a plain liar if he said there wasn’t that rumbling trepidation in his chest. he’d put it to bed though.

all he had to think of was you, one hand gripping your phone and the other between your thighs as you watched him through with a hazy smile- that kept him going.

with the thought still heavy on his mind, you didn’t have to strain to hear your name drift off his lips. his hips bucked into his hand as he did, speeding up the motion of his strokes.

you were going to black out, his tattoos flexing and his chest expanding with every stuttered breath. simon looked like a god among men and he fucking sounded like one too.

“fuck, sweetheart- you’re so fucking filthy giving me orders like this”

your cheeks were burning, he wasn’t wrong but you weren’t expecting him to call you out quite like this.

“what does that make me? always so fucking eager to do what you say? make a dirty old man, yeah?”

wheeeeeew that’ll do it, your thighs snapped together around your hand as your eyes nearly rolled back in your head. whenever you thought you couldn’t take any more, he was always there to do you one better.

“only for you, pet- you can always get whatever you fucking want from me”

and you knew he was serious, that’s what made it all the more debilitating. simon was unshakeable, you’d seen him go out of his way to defy orders if he didn’t think the person worth his time.

when it came to you? you could tell him to kill and he would.

(he probably had)

simon’s hips were twitching, back arching in a way he’d rather die than have anyone else know about. his mouth was hanging open beneath the balaclava, your name and a string of expletives falling off his tongue.

so quick you nearly missed it, the hand that was cradling his balls moved to grip the fabric of his shirt and push it up his toned front. you couldn’t call his abs cut and defined, there was aged layer to them, but they were undeniably there.

you’d rested your head on them, pressed your palms against them, even ridden them enough times to know they were there. regardless, he looked fucking perfect under the moon glow as he stroked himself hard and long.

eyes locked onto the camera, broken moans on his lips, you saw his hips lift one last time as thick spurts of cum began to paint his stomach and chest.

scars illuminated under the night sky, mirrored by shiny patches of hot cum splattered across the same stretch of skin. the hairs on his chest were matted with sweat and were now being splashed with how far he was shooting.

you could only watch with your mouth hung open as he tugged himself through his orgasm. soon it was only the sound of his laboured breathing, chest rising and falling as he tucked his soft cock back into his pants.

just when you thought that was it, you found one of his hands lifting up the edge of his balaclava till his lips were exposed. two fingers of his other hand swiped up some of his spend before he lay them on his tongue.

knuckles in your mouth, biting down to suppress a scream, simon readjusted his clothes as he stood and took a heavy step towards the camera.

one hand braced on the window sill, the other gently gripping himself through his trousers- his voice was so fucking gravely it could’ve reverberated round your room.

“what’s next sweet’art? you name it, it’s yours”

[nouearth]

feel the rush.

tom holland x male reader.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. rushing a fraternity is highly-competitive, and all-so overwhelming. if it was up to you, you wouldn't have participated in the first place. fortunately, tom was here to provide you all of the shortcuts in receiving a bid to the greek life, as long as you did a bang-up job.

𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓. one-shot [ 5.5k ].

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. male reader 〳 college!au 〳 frat!tom 〳brief alcoholic drinking 〳 closeted!reader 〳 reader is kinda religious coded 〳 sexual content: top!tom, bottom!reader, breeding, kissing, spitting, blowjob (r!giving), humiliation, dirty talk, muscle worship, scent!kink.

“You know you’re not exactly dressed for the occasion, right?”

The door closed behind Tom, sectioning you off from the party. The atmosphere of the event was tangible regardless. Strong beats throttled from wall to wall, tremors from a familiar song tickling your feet. Chants, albeit muffled, were resonant as you could only presume that someone executed a keg stand for the nth time of the night.

Chug, chug, chug, chug, and the crowd roared as if downing a keg of beer prevented Earth from being infiltrated by extraterrestrials. Granted, that was within the best scenario, in which alcohol and everything loud and deafening like university students wanting to fit in were highly toxic to those devious space invaders.

“What—how do you mean? Rushing is pretty formal, isn’t it? That’s what my mom tells me, anyway.”

You felt small from Tom’s comment, taking a peek at yourself in his mirror and shamefully finding nothing out of the ordinary with your white dress shirt, polka-dotted tie, and khaki pants. Though, you had to be honest. It wasn’t a fair assessment, considering you were judging under the purple hue of his dim lights. The compact size of his room certainly didn’t help either.

“Yes and no. Obviously, you don’t want to look like a slob. But you also don’t want to stand out too much. You’re not going to be a Greek if you wear Ralph Lauren from head to toe—that’s obnoxious. It looks like your mum dressed you for the Lord’s Supper or someone’s granddad, which is frankly the worst offender: don’t look like a square.”

“These are all I have—duly noted—so, it’s okay to dress… like you then? Won’t I blend in with everyone else?”

Tom wore a snapback, a blue polo, and white cargo shorts—which was brazen of him considering the amount of drinking and bile you had seen before the party had even began. It was simple to replicate. If it was your mother’s judgement, she would have all the men and women cover up their legs and arms, while embarrassingly leaving you as the prime example of what a gentleman should dress like.

But your mother wasn’t here, was she? Which meant, you could enjoy the holy sight of Tom’s biceps threatening to burst his shirt at the sleeve, his bulky chest at the placket—all for a little while longer before your intuition stepped in at the call of your mother, and forced those thoughts to scurry off.

That was ungentlemanly.

“That’s the point. You blend in, which means you put in the extra effort to get you noticed by the brothers—by us. Outfit aside, I reckon you’re off to a mighty start. Could be a pledge if you keep this up. I’m certainly noticing you,” Tom muttered after taking a sip of his beer, backing you with small, but imposing steps, until your ankles knocked against the footer of his bed, making you fall back. “Here, loosen up.”

He handed you his beer can.

“I don’t—“

“Just a sip to get in the mood. Not asking you to get blackout drunk here, Christ.”

“Sorry, mama.” You tipped the can into your mouth and instantly, the first taste of lager made you grimace, your face and body shriveling up like the bitter bubbles in the back of your throat. “That’s not… pleasant.”

“You get used to it.”

You were an easy target, weren’t you?

All you had to do was lurk around the party like a lost puppy, head and shoulders down as if the entire objecting of rushing was the complete opposite of being noticeable, and then Tom came around to your aid. He flashed that confident, gorgeous smile of his, immediately knowing you’d do anything to receive a bid from anyone at Alpha Kappa Psi, to be a pledge, without ever doing the hard-work of politely boasting about yourself to complete strangers.

Using your body was easier.

“You’ve done this before?” Tom took the can out of your hand and set it on his desk. He joined you at the foot of the bed after, his thigh touching yours. Then his hand on your knee, rubbing to simultaneously appease those nervous twiddling fingers of yours, and to warm you up.

“Yes—but don’t tell my mom, all right? She doesn’t know that I’m—Just… a couple of hook-ups back at home. Nothing much.” You nervously laughed to fill the silence, watching Tom’s hand warm your knee in gentle strokes that seem to ascend closer to your thigh with every cycle.

He stopped at your inner thigh. “I don’t plan on it unless you do a bad job. And/or your ass somehow rips my dick off and I need someone to take accountability for your actions.”

Your body straightened when Tom began kneading at your tender skin. “Not funny, I mean it.”

“Relax, I’m not telling your mom. It’ll be fun…” With one smooth motion, Tom turned his snapback around, the visor facing the back, and his mouth lowered to the shell of your ear. “And if I can be honest…? It turns me on knowing you’re hiding such a dirty secret from your poor mother.”

There was a shuffling, and then a firm grip on your nape that made your breath hitch. Before your instincts to pull away could react, Tom drew you in for a pressing kiss.

You breathed in, sucking the taste of liquor into your lungs, and trailed after the sweep of his lips. His nose smashed against yours, you could practically hear him inhaling you, and you barely got a sound out before your lips were pushed apart with Tom’s wet tongue. He tasted of familiar lager, yet certainly much more appetizing than drinking from the source itself as you pressed closer to him, welcoming him into your mouth with messy licks to the slithering muscle.

“Mm…”

Electricity shot up your spine when his tongue began properly mingling with yours. Sparks ricocheted off your cranium, then back down to your toes, where they flexed and brought the rest of your legs onto Tom’s bed. Heat flushed through your veins, the kiss all-consuming like Tom had needed your moans to survive. He drew you in closer, holding you close, exploring your mouth with his. You let out small whimpers and pressed into him, drowning yourself in his groans as your hand experimented with desperate tugs and kneads to his growing erection. He licked and nipped at your lips in revenge, countering your touch with a much more brazen hand down your khakis and briefs, toying with your bare chub in his palm.

“Had my eyes on you since you walked through that door,” Tom’s breath spilled over your neck, kissing at the stretch of skin in between the seconds of stripping your clothes off and his after. “You stuck out like a sore thumb. Have no idea why you thought you even had a chance, but then I thought about it for longer, watching you stick to the walls, observing everyone, drinking our punch. I knew you weren’t as innocent as you looked.”

You were lost in this sanity. Your lips were swollen and nearly numb from use, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. They tingled in all the right ways, sending signals to your exposed cock, throbbing out in the open air after many clumsy movements of shimmying yourself out of your pants and briefs.

You helped Tom with his clothes, fingers swiping across his muscular back when you pulled off his polo, palms brushing over his toned thighs when it came to undoing his shorts. Surprisingly, no briefs to remove after, which made you even harder, even when you were nearly assaulted in the face with the spring of his erection.

All of Tom was impressive, especially his hard, thick cock.

“Mom told me to make some friends—“

When Tom returned his grasp onto your nape and pushed your head toward his groin, you lost all semblance of self-control. He held you close enough to smell his cock, but far enough to deprive you the pleasure of having him in your mouth. He smelled salty, something of sweat that made your nostrils flare for more, so you pushed your head. You sniffed, lowering yourself until your nose was buried into his heavy balls, and inhaled your curiosities.

The aroma of Tom’s musk was familiar and unfamiliar all at the same time. It was intoxicating. The scent was strong and pure when you pressed in. It was here, a pungent assault to your nose when you took another indulgent breath of his sweaty balls, and your senses went haywire when Tom’s fingers dug into your nape, scraping sweet lines of fire across the nape of your neck, and pulled you over his leaking cock.

Your inability to control yourself was as much of an arousal for Tom, judging by how his cock was twitching with every breath you took to fight off the urge in gulping him down.

“Wow, you really are a momma’s boy, aren’t you? Bet you have her constantly in your mind, telling you what’s right from wrong, don’t you? Tell me, what’s she saying while you’re sucking me off?”

“I don’t know what—mmf!”

Just like that, your mouth was full of Tom’s smell, full of him, god. Your eyes snapped shut and you choked down a moan as you took his thick cock into your mouth at the help of Tom’s bruising grip. One hand braced on his toned and flexed thigh while the other was wrapped around his shaft, holding him steady in your mouth. Your lips wrapped snug around him, hallowing your cheeks and flattening your tongue over veins—multiple veins that were the source of his pre-cum leaking into your mouth like a broken faucet.

Salt spread on your tongue, wakening every taste bud to an early bloom as you squeezed and stroked him at the base, forcing out more drips of pre-cum onto your tongue.

“Fuck, your mouth’s so warm…” His eyes widened at the warm and wet embrace of your tongue slobbering over his cock, groaning at the obscene sounds of your saliva spit-shining his shaft as he was leaning on his elbows. “God, look at you.”

“I’m doing okay…?” You gasped after pulling his cock out of your mouth, spitting out the thick, droopy web of saliva that connected your lips to Tom’s shaft back over the plump, swollen glans. You looked up at him for approval, wide-eyed and dazed, recovering from the stretch Tom had provided your mouth seconds prior.

When you needed a breather, you licked at the underside of his cock, tending to the inches you couldn’t possibly fit inside of your mouth with multiple tantalizing strokes of your hand. You spread your spit thick over his hard flesh, massaging every spit bubble until his cock and balls were moisturized with the slick of your mouth.

“Better than I could imagine, honestly…” Tom marveled with a chuckle, exhaling slow and deep from his gut to seemingly keep himself from spilling too early from your unrelenting strokes. His toes wiggled in his socks, a tic you found yourself simpering about because it was rather the opposite of Tom’s imposing demeanor.

He pressed two fingers against his own tongue, slicking it up with spit, before shoving them into your mouth to get a second opinion on your cock-sucking skills. Tom hummed, his hand removed from your nape to hold your chin up while he watched you take his fingers, pumping them in and out of your tight, sucking lips.

He seemed pleased.

Somehow, it was more intimate sucking his fingers off. Tom was staring. He had always been, which made you nervous since he introduced himself to you. But he was staring, as if he could control your every move with a simple look, as if he was capable of communicating with you without uttering a word. His lips parted, his brow raised, and you quickly caught on to reflect upon his wishes, diligently opening your lips to welcome a third slicked up finger into your mouth.

Right then and there, you figured Tom had taken your brain cells hostage and forged them to work in his favor. Whatever he wanted, you were absolutely pleased to do without a single complaint peeping from your end.

He pulled out embarrassing sounds that would’ve gotten you stoned if your mother ever heard them from your room. His other hand worked on your leaking cock, massaging your testicles and palming the plump tip, because he can—because you let him.

You were Tom’s puppet, and your body was at his disposal.

“See? This is fun, right?”

He slid his fingers out of your mouth ever so-slowly, the dim light catching onto the trail of spit that bridged his fingers and your tongue with a magical glint. They eventually lost their sparkle when Tom was quick to bring his hand to your ass and wet your exposed rim with a finger, circling the flesh at an excruciatingly slow pace.

“M-mm…”

It was pathetic how deprived of touch you were.

Something as simple as a tease made you writhe on all fours. All it took was a lazy stroke of his finger for you to arch your back and draw your ass out. You couldn’t manage more than a moan as Tom guided you flat on your stomach and himself behind you, continuing his taunts after freshly lubing his fingers and throbbing cock.

Upon the next turn, Tom had the generosity of delivering you of a fill that had been making your cock leak into his sheets, that had been making you rock your hips like you were an animal in heat.

After pushing your legs apart, Tom slowly slid one finger inside of you, his mouth opening in rapport, but also in wonder, as your tight hole welcomed his thick digit in with such warmth, your body locking up as pleasure entered your body.

“C-Christ…” you hissed, thighs clenching and ass squeezing around the foreign intrusion. Something like panic, mixed with agonizing, desperate need, froze you in your place, yet you could feel your body melt, beads of sweat forming over the slope of your tense shoulders and back muscles. Every contact point of your body meeting his, from his firm hand kneading your plump ass, to the tender push and pull of his finger, scorched.

“I don’t know, (M/N)… I don’t know if you can take my cock. My finger can barely move. Might have to call it a night…”

The thudding of your heart muffled your ears as Tom pressed in another finger after slowly working you open. Upon instinct, you closed your legs, only for Tom to spread them back apart before your sweaty thighs could meet, keeping yourself exposed and bare under his direction.

You chewed on a whimper, your face pressing into a pillow in your arms while Tom’s two fingers curled and pumped deep inside of you. You felt yourself pulsate around him, the tight ring of muscle unrelenting in its grip around his fingers, but Tom was determined to break you, another digit joining the pair of fingers, demeaning the tightness of your hole with an obnoxious whistle while pushing into your resistance. “Damn, look at that hole… barely fitting in three fingers.”

“N-no, I can take it. Please…” you gasped on an onslaught of curls, fast and repetitive until you were stretched enough for Tom to yank his fingers completely out of you and quickly feel withdrawal symptoms of his fill. Your thighs shook, your ass pushed out for more, your hole twitched in rapport—you murmured a whine that you needed Tom to hear, but was too self-conscious to let it be known, so you settled biting into his pillow to resist your throat from spilling.

“Such a shame. I thought you made the perfect fit for A.K.P., too.”

His touch was soft and exploring, smearing the sweat on your back over the expanse of your ass and covering it in a humiliating sheen that you’d reckon Tom was stroking himself to upon picking up on the lewd, slick sounds of lube sliding over something thick behind you.

“S-stop, stop, please. I-I’ve taken it before, just—give me a chance, yeah? Please? Hear me—feel me out?”

“You’re that desperate, huh? Don’t know if you need the pledge more, or my cock…”

“Your cock… Tom, please—“

“So, you wouldn’t mind if you received nothing in return, as long as my cock was inside of you? Fucking you? Breeding you?”

“No, I just—“

No, no, no. I don’t want you to stop. Please don’t stop. Your ass communicated those pleas in desperate wiggles. A strong smack to your ass cheeks meant to halt you in place, but it only made your hips more fervent as you graciously backed into the thick of Tom’s cock, reaching back and giving him a needy pump or two, then slid him against your crack.

A needy moan escaped when you felt the weight of his cock sandwiched between your cheeks.

“So, you don’t want my cock? I’m confused on what exactly you’re telling me. Hurry, before I lose my patience.”

You felt a stickiness to your rim. Peeking over your shoulder, you took a glimpse of Tom presumably tracing your hole with his cock and spreading his pre-cum thick over the smooth flesh. The small space grew humid with the tension between your body and his, heavy breaths adding onto the heavy air as Tom rocked into you, holding you by the waist, gliding his cock through the wetness of your lubed ass cheeks. His shaft rubbed over your hole, and your cock throbbed and leaked in between your legs at the chance that anytime now—Tom could breach you open, and fill you wondrously. Your hole clenched at the thought, aided by Tom’s hands pressing your cheeks tighter around his cock as it slid over you.

If only you could command your asshole to open, because you would’ve taken him in by now.

“I want you inside of me, Tom. F-forget the pledge, I just—I need something, someone inside of me. Please, just—Christ, fuck me. Fuck me with your thick cock. Fuck your cum into me. Fuck my ass until I’m nothing but a gaping hole dripping with your seed. Don’t even care if we never see each other again, please, Tom—”

Your eagerness took Tom by surprise, making him chuckle and slap his cock over your blinking hole before resuming on sliding his shaft against your crack, hopefully for one last turn. “Who knew you had such a potty mouth?”

You don’t know what drew you back to looking at Tom again. Maybe it was the hard, brawn structure of his body, cut straight from a sculpture of the most heroic Greek warrior. The firm lines of his abdominal muscles, or the way his snapback was adjusted backwards, emphasizing his soft, yet handsome looks. All in all, you didn’t mean what you said.

You would absolutely care if you never saw him again.

He was too good.

His rough hands over your ass, smacking them whenever you would try to angle your hips in a way to fit him in, were too good. His delicate kisses on your neck, back, and shoulders, quelling the tremble of your limbs, were too good. His soft lips, when you and him met halfway until your mouths were exchanging breaths, making the effort of holding yourself still against him excruciating, were too good.

Tom’s lips ghosted over yours, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth. You groaned as he supported your core with a strong hand, opening your mouth to take more. Every part of you, even the moisture in your body, wanted to touch him. You were sweating, drooling into his mouth, leaking into Tom’s palm when he wandered down to stroke your cock; all strong indicators that you were losing control, if you hadn’t already.

His voice, as he murmured something about your body in your ear while he was gathering you against him, was too good. His breath forced itself between your lips, breathing out a supply of oxygen into your mouth, into your lungs, to prepare you for the inevitable, and you had never felt so fragile before—especially so, when you found yourself quickly using up Tom’s oxygen when he pushed his cock into you without hesitation, without warning, your body hammered by a thousand needles in the process.

“T-Tom!” you hissed in a breath, but it only made the grip on your hips more strident when his thrust made you collapse back onto all fours. It wouldn’t be surprising if your skin was blemished with bruises the very next day with the way his fingers dug into your flesh.

Tom was generous enough to let you adjust to his size, indulging in the warmth and tightness of your entrance with only the tip of his plump cock despite feeling like he had toppled your backside with all of his body weight. Even then, those minuscule ruts were enough to make you whimper out of agony.

“So fucking tight…”

Tom pulled himself out and spread your ass cheeks apart, marveling and silently wondering to himself how he was going to puzzle himself inside of you. Some spit would surely help. He licked his fingers, then pressed it over your swollen hole, smoothing the skin before pushing the tip back in, having only a tenuous grasp on his self-control.

After the burning mellowed with the help of multiple deep exhales and kisses from Tom, you felt yourself finally unravel the moment he moved his hips. Your fingers raked against his abs as you reached back to pace his hips, palm on his pelvis to keep from completely ruining you. A shiver ran down the length of your spine as Tom smoothed a hand over your back, then kept it at the lower half, pushing deeper into you while he held you still. You made a sound, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, pleasured yet disoriented by the ample stretch Tom was providing you with. It gutted the fog of arousal, you could feel your hole instinctively pushing his cock out with overwhelmed pulses, but Tom was persistent, driving into you deeper— harder—the moment your body tried to resist him.

“Don’t mind it hard, right?” Tom asked against your ear, gruff in between his slow, yet deep strokes.

“Please,” you whimpered, barely getting the word out before Tom’s hand found its way to your mouth, covering it and holding your head back at the millisecond your answer registered in his brain, giving him the green light to pummel you relentlessly.

Your eyes popped open when Tom soared, bucking his hips wildly into you. Cries of pleasure, your whimpers and moans of being hammered with such overwhelming desire for your body, were muffled into the palm of Tom’s hand. He squeezed your cheeks, loud groans leaving your throat, and your torso arched into the mattress.

The brutal stretch was what you’d been needing. All this pent up sex drive that you had been harboring for so long came exploding out of you like molten lava, scorching your torso and all in effect. Your body was on fire, coupling with Tom’s as sweat dripped from his forehead, and somewhere onto your backside. Your mind emptied out while you hovered in the space between deprived arousal and complete ecstasy, only perfected by Tom’s cockhead screwing into your tight, clamping hole.

“Open,” Tom demanded with a huff, and you did as you were told at the prodding of his fingers. You welcomed him in with the parting of your lips, luring each digit with the curl of your wet tongue. “You like that? You like taking my hard cock like this? Fucking you open until you’re nothing but a hole? God, look at you drooling…”

As Tom pumped inside of you at a steady pace, angling his hips so he stretched you wider, you suckled on his fingers as they remained hooked over your mouth—you were starting to guess that he loved having them sucked, or at least, liked playing with the idea of having himself inside of you in more ways than one.

It was a messy affair. Pools of saliva leaked from either corners of your mouth. The smell of sex was thickening in between the heavy pants that you and Tom would collectively exile. It wouldn’t be long until your body was drenched in sweat, and you’d come to realize that you wouldn’t be alone in that department. Tom had his sweaty arm around your throat, pushing all of his body weight onto you and gutting you open with the deep hammering of his thrusts. His chest rumbled with wild growls as he pounded into you from behind, burying your hole to the root of his shaft, fucking you with the salacious sound of his heavy and musky sack slapping against your sweat-stained taint. You whimpered when his cockhead brushed past that sweet spot of yours, an unfamiliar feeling that you had no doubts in wanting to befriend.

“O-oh, that’s s-so g-good—“ You bit into his forearms, the thick vein pulsing through looking appetizing, and you were glad you did it because—it was like an ‘on’ switch for Tom.

“Taking my cock so well—your mom would be disgusted, wouldn’t she? Knowing her baby boy is taking a man’s cock. Want you to remember this. I don’t care how many cocks you had before me. I want you to remember what my cock feels like, digging deep inside of you. And when I’m done with you, I don’t want you coming home, crying to mommy—because I’ll never be done with you. Once you get your bid, you’re fucking mine.”

This was it.

This was Tom at his peak performance.

And your body was at his mercy.

He pulled out, flipped you over, then hooked your legs over his shoulders before resuming in his relentless rapture.

You stroked yourself to the image before you, a tight fist around your aching cock, squeezing from base to tip, spreading your pre-cum down your already sticky length, while your other hand toyed with your nipples, playing with the perky nubs.

Tom’s muscular body dripped in sweat. His teeth gritted as he struggled to control his volume. Glimpses of the base of his cock would appear when he would pull out, only to be hidden by the trimmed hairs of his pubic hair when he would shove himself back in, veins of his large cock throbbing and basking in your warmth. Hard and strong kisses layered your ankles while Tom’s pecs jiggled with every thrust he made. Even if you weren’t being fucked right now, you could get off to this. You could come right now, to the absolute bliss on Tom’s face as he buried himself deep inside of you, impaling you with his cock, moulding your hole to the shape of his shaft.

It enthralled you knowing how much pleasure your body gave Tom.

The squeaking of the bed roped everything together, gathering all sorts of noises—lewd sounds of sex and delirious desire—like a beautiful symphony. Your moans against his were the choir when Tom came down to kiss you hard on the mouth, sloppy and wet as he explored you open both ways. His tongue curious into your mouth and his thick cock rearranging your guts.

Your hands freely roamed over the expanse of his broad back, clutching and scratching at his back muscles when he curled his hips in a way that made you arch your body off the bed and knocked the breath out of you. God, he was so strong. So buff. You could feel his back muscles move in sync with his hips, flexing and flaring as he sank his cock deep into you. Your body stuttered, your eyes shut tight, tears nearly welling from the utter pleasure, shriveling as Tom would batter your prostate with better precision every time his hips came down on you. You couldn't be bothered to find the proper words to tell Tom how good he was making you feel, so you settled for a mixture of gasps, whimpers, and a daring scratch over the length of his spine.

That was telling enough, right?

Tom growled at the sting overloading his senses when you made your marks, grazing his teeth and lips over the palm of your hand when he reached back to take and hold the culprit of the forming welts before him. You and him shared a gaze, a kiss when he lowered himself and briefly settled on imposing you with strong, but slow and deep thrusts. To catch his breath. To catch yours. You both exchanged breaths, swapped saliva, explored each other's mouths, held each other hands, and the intimacy of it all made it all the more tranquilizing for you.

“Gonna breed that ass of yours. Fuck, it’s perfect for me. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Have your hole dripping, gaping, and raw? Maybe I’ll get the bros to look at the mess you made. Maybe they’ll want in on it and have a turn at your body, too. It could be your initiation, hm? Could skip the entire process, and be a Greek, as long as you let all of us breed you. How does that sound?”

“Holy, s-shit—“

You pumped your cock, a familiar feeling quickly bubbling to a high from the pit of your stomach, all the way to your swollen nipples, and you knew what awaited you as that sensation wouldn’t falter. Your heart beat ran faster than the effort of caffeine. Even though it was muffled, the rhythmic beats downstairs were still resonant, and you were absolutely outpacing its tempo. The heat of Tom’s hands returned on your body. He caressed and rubbed your hips, thighs, chest, balls, and ass, all while he urged you to come.

“There we go. Good boy. Keep fucking that fist. Yeah, fuck—“

His palms smoothed over your skin, up the sides of your body, thumbs pressing into either sides of your hips, then maneuvered you with his strength to meet him half-way into his strong thrusts. His biceps flexed, thick veins demonstrating his rush of adrenaline and sheer strength as he brought you down onto his cock with thundering claps, sweaty skin contacting sweaty skin, constantly assaulting your prostate with his swollen cockhead.

It both frightened and thrilled you, your eyes blown, and you felt yourself quickly spill, thick and heavy over your stomach, knowing you were at Tom’s disposal. You shuddered, watching the thick ropes of cum fly high before splattering and soon pooling at the plane of your body.

“I’m close—“

“Come inside of me, please–“

You were panting as your cock finished spilling itself all over your stomach and chest, as Tom’s big cock pounded in and out of you with such ease now, the weight of his hips coming down on you making you continuously bounce on the mattress.

“Fuck.”

His breathing was even heavier than yours, laced with grunts as he used your ass like a toy, pulling hard and pushing you as he pleased, breaching you with the thick of his cock. His thrusts become wilder, sweat dampening his snapback as Tom mustered up the rest of his strength and energy to completely overpower you. His swollen cock dug deep, you could feel every veins about to burst. With a choke of your name, he delivered one more grandiose rut against your ass, the impact of his hips biting sharp into the back of your thighs, and filled you with his cum, burying you to the root.

“Holy shit…”

“O-oh, god—“

Warmth spread thick inside of you, and you writhed and groaned as your hole swallowed another fat fill. Tom’s body goes slack, crashing into your arms immediately, and he moaned on each slow thrust, creaming you from the inside and out. You strained toward him in desperation, wrapping your legs around his hips to lock him in place, and reaching over to his ass to push him deeper, to urge him to keep breeding you as your hole held Tom’s sensitive cock with gratitude, taking his thick seed without hesitation, until his cock veins stopped pulsating.

As promised, Tom kept you impaled, rocking his hips and kissing you once more, soft and passionate, something of him owing you one laced in the way he smooched your lips and refused to let you reciprocate—because Tom never came like that before. His hand was tender on your cheek, stroking the dried stain of drool that was left abandoned when he pulled away to look at you, properly this time. You sighed, brushing the snapback off his head to let his scalp breathe, and pulled him in at the introduction of a sudden draft, your legs still anchored by his hips.

You lay intertwined, sharing deep kisses in between moments of recovery, where the post-nut clarity rendered you and Tom into fit of collective shy laughter, incredulous to the affair both of you had just engaged in.

“So, you live on campus?”

“Oh—yeah. East side, near Turing…”

“Figured you’d be a science guy. Anyways, I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning. Give me your phone.”

“Pick me up? For what?”

“Christ. Did I fuck the memory out of you or something? Bid day’s tomorrow. It gets hectic, so I think it’ll be better if you stick with me.”

“Won’t that… be suspicious?”

“Nah. Plus, I figured we’d get an early start on your initiation…”

“You mean—“

“Fuck, yeah.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[forusomimiya]

HQ captains reacting to you walking semi-naked with his team jersey

𝘍𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘛𝘦𝘵𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘰 𝘒𝘶𝘳𝘰𝘰, 𝘚𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘢 𝘋𝘢𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘪, 𝘒𝘰𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘰 𝘉𝘰𝘬𝘶𝘵𝘰 𝘸/ 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 (all of them timeskip!) 𝘊𝘞: 𝘛𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 (?) 𝘈.𝘕.: 𝘒𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘮 ‘𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 4 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 🦅🐍👑😜

𝐓𝐄𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐎 Despite no longer being involved in the world of volleyball, Kuroo still keeps his uniform as if it were a treasure. That uniform is not just a simple piece of clothing, in that uniform there are memories, family, victories… and he keeps it as his most precious object.

So precious that, when you get home and see that you have nothing to wear, you decide to surprise him by wearing it. And that's how you get it when he comes home after a long day at work.

"Oh wow" he says looking at you as he sets his keys in the foyer and his briefcase on the floor. "You look so pretty".

"Ya think?" You pinch the bottom of your shirt and stretch it out as if it were a dress, twirling on yourself. He gives you a smirk, examining your bare legs.

"Yep, just ´cause you're the one wearing it" he walks to the couch and once seated, sighs tiredly, turning to look at you. You know something has gone through his head. A couple of pats on the couch urge you to sit next to him, but you prefer to climb into his lap and entwine your fingers behind the back of his neck. His hands soon wrap around your waist.

"Thank you for the compliment" so innocent, you deposit a kiss on the tip of his nose.

"You're welcome, though…I think you'd look better without it" his hands come in direct contact with your skin, running up your ribs before coming to brush the sides of your tits, up your neck with his lips.

"Oh yeah?" you ask wryly. "Then you'll have to take it me off if you want to enjoy the view" you have plenty of time to jump up from the couch and rush out to his office, to wait for a smiling Kuroo to come through the door while along the way he undoes a couple of buttons on his shirt and rolls up his sleeves. A fucking sexy businessman.

Only 15 minutes later he had you begging, lying on the cold table, making a mess of your ass while he teased your pussy with his fingers, whimpering in pain and pleasure as you swooned listening to all the compliments he had in store for you since he saw you with his shirt on.

𝐒𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈 "Daichiii…" you call from across the hall, peeking your head around the door frame, watching your husband cook. Daichi turns slightly but ignores you. "I can't see you now honey, come and show me" so you walked tiptoe to his side, where you wait for him to turn to look at you, leaning on the kitchen counter. He gives you a sidelong glance and when he notices what you're wearing, he completely disregards his task. "What a surprise" he laughs. "Where did ya get it?" "It was stored in one of those old boxes in the storage room" Daichi disappears, only his gaze is left riveted on you, licking his lip unconsciously under lewd thoughts. "Earth calling Daichi, are you listening to me?" you ask snapping your fingers in front of his face. The only movement he makes is to touch a button on the plate, the one you can assume makes the fire go out, before you see yourself lifted into his arms, walking with you to the bedroom, where he drops you on the bed and lets you know his thoughts as he goes to the closet and rummages through the drawers. "Oh… I know what you want to play at" "Oh yeah?" he asks undoing his shirt and exposing his toned abs. You can't help but think he's going to give you a striptease right there, because that's how all the strippers in the movies start, bare-chested and in dark jeans. But your world falls apart when from behind his pants pocket he pulls out his work handcuffs. "I'll bet by your expression it wasn't what you imagined" A groan escapes you as he takes both wrists, raising them high above your head, positioning himself behind your legs, which are you don't know how, raised. This was the fucking Daichi you married. "If your intention was to turn me on, it worked. Now be a good girl, or..." whip your ass in warning "I don't promise to be a good cop".

𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐎 𝐁𝐎𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐎 "Where do you want to go for lunch tomorrow?" as if it were nothing, you stroll semi-naked in front of your boyfriend, who had long since stopped paying attention to the book in his hands, forcing him to look at you, no, to analyze you as you paced back and forth across the room. "Kotaro" you call him, scowling. "I'm sorry honey, I was so stunned looking at you I think I cum in my pants." "KOTARO!" but your temper soon deflates and you burst out laughing. "I'm kidding, it looks really good on you, better than me" you blush and steal a kiss for the compliment. "Do you think I would have made a good captain?" "I don't think you're good at that whole leadership and taking control thing" your shocked face makes him chew and swallow his words back. "I said I think!" "Well, since you've questioned it, I think it's a good time to show you that I can do it" Bokuto proclaims victoriously when his provocation towards you makes him manage to get you on top of him, unable to help but smile at the sight of your tits moving easily under his shirt. All he needs to do is lick his lips. "Let's be honest. If you're going to fuck me, let me at least take those tits honey. I can't stop drooling thinking about them" you can't say no to him, because one of the good things about Bokuto in sex, is that just by sucking your tits, he would make you cum time after time. "Well… Let me see those pretty lips wrapped around them then" just one command and Bokuto would already be under your shirt sucking your tits, with a noticeable erection that you would soon take between your hands, milking him.

[ange1heavensent]

Do I Make You Nervous, Ellie?

:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡.｡:+*ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:

Pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

Content Warning: reader has a husband, palpable tension, eye fucking, fic inspired by the movie Bound (1996)

w/c ≈ 1200

:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡.｡:+*ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:

The ding of the elevator rang through the empty hall. Your husband was talking your ear off about some sort of work drama as the two of you stepped through the metallic doors. You leaned softly against the wall, eyes flicking to your husband as he pressed the elevator button to your floor. It was the first night that the two of you would spend in your new apartment. The place was supposed to be a new start for the two of you. You tried to let the move settle into your bones, but the newness felt off. Something was missing, something you hadn’t yet put your finger on. Your thoughts were interrupted, as the doors were about to shut, someone from further down the hall yelled out.

“Hold the doors!”

Your husband pressed the button, which opened the elevator doors yet again and in walks a figure that immediately draws your attention. She’s dressed in  a worn leather jacket slung over a plain white t-shirt that clings to her lean, muscular frame. Her hands are shoved into the pockets of dark jeans, and there's a slight smudge of paint on her forearm, peeking from beneath the rolled-up sleeve. She has that effortless kind of confidence, the kind that demands attention without ever asking for it.

Your husband gives her a nod, polite but indifferent. You, on the other hand, feel a sharp jolt in your chest as you lock eyes with her. Those deep green eyes, flecked with just enough softness to draw you in, but sharp enough to keep you on your toes. She glances at you, barely a second, but the tension is undeniable.

Ellie nods back in acknowledgment as she walks past your husband, before she leans back against the elevator wall beside you and then shifts her gaze towards you. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw a smirk tugging at her lips, and damn if it didn’t make your stomach flip. The elevator ride was short, but every second of it felt like an eternity under her sharp gaze. When the doors opened to your floor, she stepped out first, with a nod in your direction, her eyes lingering on yours just long enough to make your pulse race again.

You and your husband stepped out after, following her down the hallway lined with apartment doors. Then she stopped in front of one, keys jingling as she opened the door. You walked past, moving further down the hallway, but as you passed her you locked eyes once again. This time you sent her a wink, before she stepped inside. 

- 

Days pass. Your routine is simple, the mundane tasks of domestic life, your husband working long hours, leaving you alone in the apartment. But your thoughts keep drifting to her - the mysterious woman down the hall, who’s seemingly renovating one of the units in the building.

It starts innocently enough. You see her in the hallway a few times, catching fleeting glances that last a little too long to be accidental. Her presence is always lingering, her confidence radiating even when she’s just minding her own business with a toolbox in hand. There’s something so intoxicating about the way she carries herself, so sure of who she is, unbothered by the world around her.

Then, an “accident” occurs. You’re standing in front of the kitchen sink, washing dishes and  absentmindedly fiddling with your engagement ring when it slips from your finger. It bounces off the edge of the sink, twirls once in the air, and falls down the drain with a soft, metallic clink. You bite your lip, staring down at the sink for a moment longer than necessary. Your husband won’t be home for hours. You could call the building maintenance, but where’s the fun in that?

Your mind immediately jumps to her.

Before you know it, you’re standing in front of her door, heart racing beneath your chest. You knock twice, listening to the echo in the empty hallway before the door swings open. Ellie leans against the doorframe, wiping her hands on a rag. She raises an eyebrow, amusement flickering in her eyes as she takes you in.

"Need something?" she asks, her voice low and smooth, the kind that sends a wave of heat straight through you. You swallowed, straightening your posture, before calmly answering, “Yes, I do. I dropped my ring down the sink. Thought maybe you could help me out?” You raised an eyebrow, never faltering eye contact. 

Ellie’s smirk deepened as she studied you for a long moment, letting the silence stretch between you. You could feel her eyes on you, dragging slowly from your lips and down your neck. She pushed off the doorframe and stepped forward, closing the distance between you until she was standing just inches away.

“Sure,” she said, her voice low, almost teasing. “I can help you with that.” She wipes her hands one last time before tossing the rag aside and grabbing a small toolbox by the door. "Lead the way."

-

Back in your apartment, Ellie kneels in front of the sink, sleeves pushed up as she unscrews the pipe beneath. You stand nearby, watching her every move, trying to distract yourself from the growing tension in the room. The way her hands move so confidently, so sure, it’s impossible not to admire her. She glances up at you, catching you staring, she quickly looks away, heat rising on her cheeks.

"Got it," Ellie announced, holding up your ring between her fingers. She stood up, handing it back to you with a playful grin. "Try to be more careful next time." You took the ring, but your eyes never left hers. "Thank you," you murmured softly.

She didn’t step back. Neither did you.

Her gaze dropped to your lips and your stomach fluttered. The intensity of the moment was almost too much, but you didn’t pull away. You just stood there, the air between you thick with desire. Ellie’s hand brushed against yours, her fingertips ghosting over your knuckles, sending a shiver down your spine. It was just a touch, barely there, but it was enough to make you ache. You parted your lips to speak, but nothing came out. You didn’t know what to say. So you just stood there, staring at each other, until the apartment door unlocked and your husband announced that he was home, shattering the moment.

Ellie stepped back, her hand dropping to her side as her gaze flickered away. "I should go," she said, her voice still low and teasing. “Thanks for the help…” you said, urging her to say her name. “Ellie” she quickly replied as she awkwardly reached her hand out. You shook it, “Y/n.” As if on cue, your husband stepped into the kitchen.

With a final nod, Ellie walked back towards the door, sending a nod of acknowledgment towards your husband. But before she was out of sight she glanced over her shoulder “If you need anything else…” she trailed off, leaving the offer hanging in the air.

And then she was gone.

The weight of the ring on your finger felt a little heavier that night.

:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡.｡:+*ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:

Click here for part 2 - with some smut ;)

Thank you for reading! If you liked this fic, check out my masterlist for more :)

[seeminglydark]

A look-book and little break-down of Caro’s style and fashion Journey. I didn’t include their cheer uniform or GasCo uniform because those really didn’t influence their actual style much, other than the Varsity jacket and work jacket. I thought it would be fun to set it up almost like a magazine article and I’m in love with the results. I hope you enjoy it too. (The cover is my fave thing ever, just so you know.)

Here’s the Text:

Caro Greene, Cheerleader to Ghosthunter! An exclusive look at superstar Caro Greene’s style evolution. From femme to them!

The Teenage Years! Caro has been aware the high-femme style their parents chose for them was not the look they wanted for a long time, but didn’t know how to address it. Pairing their best friends tee-shirt over their Prom dress was the first step in figuring out their own personal style! From there, they tested out the route of borrowed too-big sweaters whenever they weren’t under the watchful eye of their family.

GasCo Era! Years of emotional neglect build until Caro chops off their hair, an asset more important to their parents than their happiness, and finds themself abruptly homeless, with nothing but some jeans, shirts and an oversized jacket belonging to their long-gone boyfriend. They get a job at the local gas station, and are gifted a new jacket that fits, with their new name on it, in their favorite color! More gender exploration leads them to a better haircut, and their first time trying a binder, and starting to not hate how they look.

Thrift stores, Sneakers, and T! Now in a new environment with supportive people at the GasCo, Caro discovers thrift stores and the tacky ‘80s aesthetic of their dreams. After years of other people controlling their body and looks, starting on low T is a big step in taking back control. They start wearing crop tops and sleeveless tees to show off new body hair, but also love chunky colored sweaters since they’re always cold. Sneakers go with everything, and when you’re short, the possibilities are endless in the kids shoes section.

Mil-Liminal! Caro’s podcast Mil-Liminal goes viral, and they are given the choice of staying faceless and anonymous, or taking the stage in live shows. They decide to do a face reveal, and that means choosing an iconic ‘look’ for their live performances. They choose their favorite color, GasCo Purple, and a jacket that is a blend of their varsity jacket and GasCo work jacket, two clothing pieces that always made them comfortable. They wear their trans identity on their sleeve, and top it off with the snapback look they donned years ago on their first venture ‘out’ as a teenager. The rest is history!

Current Caro! Which brings us to the present! There’s been some small changes, oversized sweaters and tees with a cosmic theme, which is new for the usually spookified Caro. They’re sporting white hair instead of their trademark blond, and have added a cross earring and a pendant to their Mil-Liminal uniform. A black snapback shows up as often as the purple one, and there’s a new bounce in their step, but perhaps they’ve just been indulging in too much coffee these days.

Caro Green is from my webcomics Seemingly Dark and Mil-Liminal, and podcast Mil-Liminal.

[rememberwren]

/•Harmless Fun 2•\

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Further Parts

You find out the walls are thin in your new apartment.

Roommate!ghoap/fem!reader

*

It’s the hottest day of the month when you move in. If you use that as an excuse to wear your shortest pair of shorts, that’s all it is—an excuse, flimsy as the floaty, sleeveless, polyester top that skims your navel. Even dressed light, the sweat drips down the small of your back and slicks your palms as you work on moving boxes into the elevator and up to the top floor. Every step inside is a blessing, the air conditioning bursting over you, sweet icy bliss.

Johnny opens the door. He’s wearing a tee shirt stretched thin across his chest and a pair of loose cotton pants. He leans against the doorway, reminiscent to how he had the day he showed you the apartment. You had thought he was showing off then, but now you think that maybe it eases the weight off his leg.

“Well, what a bonnie sight you are. Here, let me.” He tries to take the box from you.

“No, I’ve got it—“

“I insist—“

“Really—“

“Lass, I will hit you with my cane—“

You gape at the threat. The box comes loose from your hands and he tucks it easily under one arm, giving you a smug raise of his brows. “I’m disabled, but I’ll have to be dead before I let a pretty girl carry her own furniture.”

“Consider yourself iced,” Simon says, appearing as if from thin air. His arms are bared by his tank top revealing one impressive sleeve of tattoos—as if he wasn’t painfully attractive enough to begin with. Down below his chin is a black surgical mask, ready to be tugged over his mouth and nose out in public. “No moving furniture, Soap.”

“You’re worse than those nurses at the clinic,” Johnny chides, picking up the freshest step of what must be a long, frustrating dance between them both. “I know my own limits better than anyone, don’t I?”

“Wrong,” Simon chuckles darkly. He takes a step closer to Johnny and puts a hand on the nape of his neck, calloused thumb moving along the smooth muscle of his trapezius. He stage whispers: “I know you better than you know yourself, Johnny-boy.”

He takes the box from Johnny’s lax hands. Both of you stare after his figure as Simon turns to walk the box to what will be your bedroom from now on. Judging by the heavy, heated look in Johnny’s eye, you aren’t the only one affected by Simon’s display.

“Did he…call you Soap?”

#

“It was his callsign in the military,” Simon explains, patiently waiting for you to find the perfect grip on a box of your toiletries. He has three boxes—of your book collection no less—stacked in his arms with all the ease of Jenga pieces. But you know these won’t come tumbling down. Heaving the box into your arms, you shift it to your hip and wipe the hair from your forehead.

“What’s a callsign?”

“A simple identifier that can be used over radio or transmitter. Safer sometimes than using names.”

“What was your callsign?”

“Ghost.”

“Ghost.” You roll the name around on your tongue as you both walk into the building, the doorman politely holding the door open for you both. You glance at Simon out of the corner of your eye, the mask drawn up to hide his identity. “You know—yours makes a little sense. But Soap?”

The corner of Simon’s eyes crinkle. “You’ll have to ask him about it. He loves to talk about himself.”

With Simon’s help, you are able to empty the moving truck by early evening, just in time to enjoy the coldest shower of your life (the first of many in your new apartment, you’re sure). The water pressure is excellent, beating down on your flushed skin until your teeth chatter and you turn the temperature to something less punishing.

By the time you walk into the living room, convinced you’ll have to make a run for groceries of your own (or just Door Dash something—but fuck if that wasn’t an allowance in your joyless budget), the smell of pizza reaches your nose.

Johnny and Simon are on the loveseat, an open pie on the coffee table in front of them. There are a few toppings you’d have to pick off, but nothing that wasn’t salvageable. Simon is freshly showered as well, hair a shade darker blond than usual, the ends curling just a bit.

“First dinner in the new place, on us,” Johnny explains, passing you a slice. He scoots over—clearly expecting you to take the narrow spot between him and Simon, though that’s the last place you would have thought to seat yourself.

“Thank you,” you say, touched. Simon slips off of the couch, giving you plenty of room. Your heart plummets for a moment—except he’s only gone to grab you a beer. But even after cracking it open with his bare hands for you, he sits in the armchair closest to Johnny and leaves the couch for you both. Sheepish, you say: “Sorry I stole your spot.”

“You didn’t,” he says quietly, sipping from his own bottle. Then he hesitates and reaches out, stretching one long arm to clink bottles with you and Johnny. He mutters, not unkindly: “Cheers.”

#

That night, you can’t sleep. The first night in a new place is always strange. You had hoped that the physical exertion of the day would tire you out, but your brain felt wired, eyes floating around the room to take in the new space and commit it to memory. You’re still awake when you hear the quiet hum of the television shut off in the living room. You hear quiet voices—a door open and shut. A shower runs for a while.

If today was any indication, you truly had high hopes that you would get along well with Simon and Johnny. Perhaps you could even grow to be friends and not just roommates. And maybe eventually you wouldn’t be thirsting after them like a dog—

—a sound on the other side of the wall, the one separating your bedroom from theirs. Your breath catches. Surely you had misheard. But then it comes again: a throaty, masculine groan. Immediately you flush hot all over, rolling onto your belly and burying your face in your pillow. Surely they aren’t—?

There’s a rumble of voices, just loud enough for you to make out Johnny’s name, and it is answered by a filthy, breathy moan. They are. Holy shit. Your hot roommates are having sex in the next room.

Your cunt aches, glaringly empty. You’re not going to do anything about it. That would be insane, wouldn’t it? To touch yourself while your neighbors fucked on the other side of the wall? But God, your body had no sense of morals, not even a daydream of right or wrong. Your nipples had hardened into aching points begging for the dextrous touch of a lover, your entire sex throbbing and flushed. Perhaps you should grab your earbuds and give them some privacy, but instead you find yourself holding your breath, desperate for the next noise.

What exactly are they doing, you wonder? You find it hard to even imagine the two of them kissing, though Simon had leaned in and placed a peck on Johnny’s lips before going downstairs to help you with your furniture. You’d never had a very good imagination. But judging by the sound of skin on skin from the next room, they are doing far more than kissing, and the thought has you clenching your thighs together.

You have no way of knowing how long it lasts. It’s like a fever dream, your head hot and floaty whenever one of Johnny’s moans is answered by Simon’s deep, throaty chuckles. There comes a strangled shout, hastily bitten off (or covered, perhaps by a hand or smothered by a lover’s mouth) and you have to bury your face in your pillow all over again in case any stray, desperate noises come floating out of you, too.

Now you’re free, one hand cupping your own breast through the flimsy tank top you sleep in and the other slipping into your panties. The angle is all wrong thanks to you being on your belly, but there’s no penetration needed tonight, not when a few wet swipes over your aching clit has you climbing that blissful peak and shattering into pieces, all your breathy sounds lost to your pillow.

Rolling onto your back, you suck in air, panting into the darkness. You whisper: “Fuck.”

You’re so screwed, though not nearly screwed as you would like to be.

[absfawn]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ❝ 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞, 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐢’𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 ❞ 

slow dancing with abby after a successful meal during one of your dates, and she can’t help but blush and become so insanely shy when your hand rests on her hip, a lazy grin on your lips and a glimmer is held in your eye when she gasps softly under her breath. your bodies moving slowly together, your fingers brushing against the skin of her back, silently thanking the dress she wore, her back completely exposed. her hands gripping yours tightly with each step you take, but she can’t focus on anything but you. the way you gently assure her that it’s okay, and she was doing amazing. but when your lips brush against her ear, the hair on her neck stands at your whispered words. “you’re the most handsome yet beautiful woman in this room” you smiled, wrapping your arm tighter around her waist and tearing a shuddered breath from her when you pulled her body closer, so you were chest to chest. “can’t take my eyes off you” and abby melts when you press your lips against her cheek and litter kisses against her skin with another smile. “you’re so perfect, can’t get enough of you. tonight is about you.” 

by the end of the night though, her feet hurt, dancing for several hours nonstop, but she loved it. her face hurts from the constant smiling, her stomach in stitches because you’ve made her laugh too much. she thought she would never find anything funny again, and then you came along, showed her what she’s been missing and she feels complete again. abby can still feel your fingers in her hair, tucking strands behind her ear every couple of minutes, and it’s a feeling she doesn’t want to let go of. not even when you’re standing there, looking at her like she hung every star in the bitter night sky. 

words would never be able to express how good she feels. how amazing tonight, with you, has been. so instead, her eyes flutter and find your fingers interlocking with hers, the softness of your skin, yet the rough edges of your fingers graze hers, shocking her slightly with wide eyes as you laugh at her reaction. “you’re so cute” you can’t help but admit, reaching your free hand up and cupping her face. enjoying the blush coating the apples of her cheeks and heat radiating off her skin. “i had fun tonight, by the way” 

“i had fun too” abby mutters shyly, her body leaning into your touch without another thought. feeling safe in your hold. “although, i need to get better at dancing. you said you didn’t know how to dance” she pouted, baby blue eyes peering at you.

“never said i didn’t know how to, just said i haven’t done it in a while” you shrugged, giving her a cheeky grin when she rolled her eyes before letting a soft giggle past her lips. “you should go inside, it’s cold, and my jacket is only going to keep you warm for so long, pretty girl”

“will i see you again?” she can’t help but ask, fumbling with your jacket sleeve.

eyeing her up with a smirk, a soft hum vibrated through your throat before you nodded. “i will text you the second you go inside” you promised and tucked another strand of hair behind her ear. those baby blues that you’ve enjoyed looking into widen when you’re leaning forward and chuckling breathlessly. “i really wanna kiss you right now,” you admitted against her forehead, your hand comfortingly rubbing her arm slowly. “but you’re a little tipsy, and i want you to remember it”

abby huffs but nods slowly at you, fingers fumbling with the collar of your shirt. “that a promise?” 

“it’s a promise until i see you again. then you can have as many as you want” you smiled, lips pressing against her cheek so softly that abby had to hold you tighter just to prove this was real, that you were here, and promising her.

“i’ll hold you to it” the blonde giggled, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. “thank you for tonight”

“you better hold me to it” your reply was cheeky but abby loved it either way and hearing you laugh was a sound so special to her already. “m’glad you had fun, you deserve it. i can’t wait to take you on more dates if you’d let me”

“i would really like that”

planting a final kiss on her forehead, you pulled away and smiled at her. “good, so go inside so i can text you another date idea for next time. you’re making me nervous when you look at me like that” you admitted, rubbing the back of your neck. 

abby simply rolled her eyes and gave you a smile, turning around on her heels, but not before looking at you a final time over her shoulder. “goodnight, nervous” she teased, winking at you.

scoffing playfully, you shake your head at her as you watched her walk up the steps to her front door. “goodnight, pretty girl”

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Sweeter Than Revenge Part 4

Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader, Scott's Sister!reader Summary: The next morning, you get to learn a little more about Tyler's past and what makes him the way he is. But after he introduces you to his crew, you find out some things that have you second-guessing your connection with him... Word Count: 3847 TW: Fluff, Flirting, Doubt, Developing Feelings, Unrequited Feelings (or are they...), Description of Reader's Clothes Notes: A massive thank you to @blue-aconite and @green-socks for reading this over for me and for all the constant support! And to @mayhem24-7forever for always answering my late-night panicked messages

Divider created by me (please ask/credit before using)

Series Masterlist

The next morning, Tyler knocked on your door at exactly 7:30. You were actually pretty sure you heard him walk up a few minutes before, but you hadn’t peeked out because you wanted to see how long he would stand there before announcing himself. However, the second he knocked, you swung open the door with your bag slung over your shoulder and your sunglasses snuggly settled on your face. Tyler’s hand was still raised, leaning forward to knock again, and he was taken off guard. You bit your lip to hide your smile as he quickly caught himself and straightened up. 

He was wearing what appeared to be the same boots and jeans from the night before (you had noticed a small oil stain on his right thigh when he was driving), but he had exchanged his flannel shirt for a dark maroon long-sleeved denim button-down, his sunglasses tucked into the collar. And of course, his off-white cowboy hat was proudly perched on top of his head.

You, on the other hand, had opted for an outfit rather different from the one you wore the previous night. Gone was the plunging, sheer top and itty-bitty cut-offs. Instead, you chose a comfortably fitting faded band shirt and mid-thigh cargo shorts. You had spent way too long considering your attire for the day and what Tyler may think of each option, but you finally settled on something less impressive but more yourself. It still made you feel attractive, yet comfortable.

And based on the way his eyes roamed across your body, Tyler approved of this decision. “Good morning, sweetheart. You look as beautiful as ever.”

“Thank you,” you said, stepping out into the hall and using the fact you had to lock the door as a reason to hide your face for a moment. “I wasn’t sure what one was supposed to wear to go tornado wranglin’ but this seemed like a safe choice.”

“Unlike your brother’s team, we don’t do uniforms or dress codes so whatever you wanted to wear would have been fine. In fact, just for the hell of it, Boone and I have gone on a few chases wearing nothing at all. But you won’t see those videos on our YouTube channel.” He winked at you before sliding your backpack off your shoulder and placing it on his own. Then he added, “Don’t get me wrong, I loved what you were wearing last night too, but this just…it feels more you.”

The butterflies that had laid dormant since last night once again sprang to life in your stomach. “Seems you’ve got me figured out pretty quickly there, Mr. Owens. Anything else you’ve noticed about me?”

“Let’s see…” Placing his arm over your shoulder, he began to steer you towards the stairs as he thought. “You have a sarcastic, confident shell you hide behind so people don’t see how vulnerable you feel. You know how to use your looks to your advantage in certain situations, but otherwise seem to forget how breathtaking you are. And—” you had started to turn at his last comment, but he placed his finger under your chin and tilted your head towards him “—you like to hide your face when someone compliments you, though I’m not sure yet if it’s because you don’t want them to see how their words affect you or if you don’t think you deserve the praise. Maybe a bit of both.”

You shifted under the weight of his sage-green gaze. “You make me sound like I’m heading into a battle with my armor, my weapon, and my shield.” 

“Maybe you are. Is that how it feels to you?”

In fact, it sometimes was, though you weren’t going to admit that. You rolled your eyes instead, trying to hide how rattled you were by his spot-on assessment. “Geez, and here I thought you were a tornado wrangler, not a therapist.” Shifting the topic off of yourself, you asked, “When did you learn to read people so well?”

Now it was Tyler’s turn to become uncomfortable. His eyes flickered away for the first time and he muttered, “...I’d rather not say.”

If he had seemed hurt or sad or uneasy as the two of you made your way down to the first floor, you would have dropped it immediately. However, the way he avoided eye contact now after just staring at you so intently, plus the slight redness spreading up his neck and face, told you he was hiding it for a very different reason. And after all the times you had been embarrassed in front of him, you weren’t going to let this opportunity go. 

You slipped from under his arm and turned to face him as you reached the top of the stairs. “Well, now you have to tell me! You can’t just tease me with something like that and expect me to drop it! Besides, all we’ve done since we met is talk about me and my messed up life. Let me learn something about you for once.”

He sighed, chewing on the inside of his lip, then said, “Okay, you asked.” As the two of you began walking down to the ground floor, he said, “Back before I got into storm chasing, I used to compete in the rodeo circuit.”

“Really?” you asked. “I didn’t know that. Have you ever mentioned that on your channel?”

“Nah. It was another life. But, one of the things you learn when you’re left staring down a 2,000-pound bull is how to be observant. You gotta notice every little shift or twitch he makes to predict what he’s gonna do and how to stay outta his way. And after a while, it just becomes a habit you do with everyone you meet.”

You raised one eyebrow. “Oh, so you noticed all those things about me because you were examining me like a bull about to charge you?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” he chuckled. “Which is why I didn’t want to tell you. Most girls don’t tend to like it when you compare them to a cow.” 

“Well, I’m not most girls,” you said as you reached the bottom of the stairs and faced him once more.

He smiled, his eyes sparkling in the morning light. “I’ve noticed. You’re definitely keeping me on my toes.”

“Oh?” you asked, taking a step closer to him. “Afraid you won’t get out of my way in time?”

He leaned over until the brim of his hat just grazed the top of your head. “I haven’t decided if I want to yet.”

Staring into his eyes, you felt that same zap of electricity from the night before zooming through your body. You watched his tongue peek out, slowly wet his lips, and, without meaning to, you leaned in closer until—

Slam!

Jumping at the loud noise to your left, you and Tyler both turned to see Scott glaring at the two of you as the Storm PAR team swarmed around their vehicles, loading up their gear. Scott had just slammed the sliding door on the van marked “Wizard” and, after spitting his gum on the ground and popping in a new piece, eyes trained on you the entire time, he climbed into the front seat of Scarecrow and started the engine. You saw Javi approaching Lion and he lifted his hand, giving you a small, apologetic smile that you returned. Then he climbed into the truck and the Storm PAR team pulled out of the lot. 

Whatever spell you and Tyler had been under now broken, you resumed walking towards the cluster of Wranglers’ vehicles. There was an awkward tension in the air you had never felt around him before and, in an attempt to break it, you asked, “So, is that how you read tornados so well? You approach them the same way you approached a bull?”

He shrugged, seemingly as happy to get back to the earlier conversation as you were. “More or less. There’s more science that goes into it but you just have to make careful observations and then, ultimately, go with your gut. Even if that means ignoring what all the data is telling you.”

“And that works?”

“Most of the time.”

“And when it doesn’t?”

He grinned as he approached the side of an old, beat-up camper van. “Then you better hope you have a great team watching your back.” With that, he banged twice on the side of the van.

The doors flew open and four people jumped out. You recognized them all from their YouTube videos as the other members of Tyler’s crew, but you couldn’t remember any of their names except for Boone. He was the other man you had seen with Tyler in the diner parking lot when you first arrived and he always manned the handheld camera in the videos, making commentary and jokes as Tyler drove them into a storm.

Tyler quickly introduced you to everyone. He had already filled them in on who you were and that you would be riding with them for the next week or so. You had been slightly worried about how they would feel about you tagging along given how Scott had responded to the idea of you going on a chase. However, they swarmed around you excitedly and immediately began to chat about how much you were going to love your first storm as if you had known them for ages.

It was such a stark difference from your brother’s reaction. Where he was instantly dismissive and challenged your bravery, each and every one of the Wranglers welcomed you with open arms, giving you heads-ups about what it would be like out there and assuring you it was fine to react in different ways. They even shared their various first storm chases and how they had responded (it was comforting to know that even Boone, who seemed as reckless and wild—if not more so—as Tyler, had torn a vocal chord “screaming like a little girl” the first time Tyler had planted the truck in the middle of a storm).

Your head was on a constant swivel as each of your four new friends talked over one another, and as you moved to turn from Dexter explaining the different tracking equipment the crew used to monitor storms to Dani explaining the upgrades that had been made to Tyler’s truck, you caught sight of Tyler. He was several feet away from the mob surrounding you, leaning his shoulder against the van with his arms folded across his chest, amusement gleaming in his eyes as he watched the chaos around you. Seeing the slight panic in your eyes, he chuckled softly to himself before pushing off the side of the van and clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention.

“All right guys, give her room to breathe. She’ll be here for at least a week so no need to tell her your whole life stories in the first five minutes. She’s still getting used to things around here and we don’t wanna scare her off.” As they all apologized and backed away, you tried to assure them you were fine but Tyler came over and placed his hands on your shoulders. “It’s alright, sweetheart, we’re just all a little excited to have some fresh blood around here. Now, Dexter, is there any breakfast left? I’m starved and I doubt she’s eaten either.”

You tried to insist you were fine, but the words died in your throat as Dexter opened the door to the camper van and the sticky sweet smell of freshly syruped pancakes hit your nose, eliciting a loud growl from your stomach. Tyler must have heard it because he chuckled and began directing you towards the van, walking behind you as he steered you by your shoulders. 

As you ate, it was decided that today you would ride in the camper van with Dani and Dexter so you could get close to the storms, yet not have to immediately dive into one. At first, you wanted to object, thinking they meant that figuratively. But then you remembered the videos you had seen of Tyler and Boone driving straight into the center of a tornado, and, realizing they meant that literally, you agreed it was probably for the best. Part of you wanted to impress Tyler and jump into his truck anyway, but Scott’s comment that you would get too scared and force his team to end the chase early echoed in your mind. 

You were still a little disappointed Tyler’s “embarrassing secret” he had tried to keep hidden this morning was not embarrassing at all. Instead, you had just prodded him into sharing something that made him seem infinitely cooler than he already had. And, once again, you were reminded of the fact that since you two had met, you had spent the majority of the time either complaining about how much of a jerk your brother was, how shitty of a person you used to be, or crying into his shoulder. Meanwhile, here he was, this daredevil tornado wrangler who learned how to read people by staring down deadly bulls for a living and looked like most women’s cowboy wet dream come to life. 

You wanted to prove to him that you were more than what he had seen so far—that you were worthy of all the time and attention he was giving you. If you told Tyler you wanted to ride with him, you had no doubt he would let you. But what if Scott was right and you freaked out as soon as you neared a tornado? What if you had a panic attack or somehow caused the Wranglers to turn back instead of diving into the storm? They made their money—money they used to help others—from their videos. A video they would not be able to post if they couldn’t record a storm because you were having a complete meltdown. 

So, at least for today, you climbed into the back of the camper van as everyone got ready to chase their first storm of the day.

Dani and Dexter were an interesting pair. Dani was brash and loud, riding with her boots propped up on the dashboard as she slouched in her seat, all the while telling you jokes and poking fun at the other Wranglers. Dexter was more reserved at first, but the longer Dani talked, the more comfortable he seemed and he began joining in. You could tell by how they interacted, often speaking over the other or laughing at a joke before it got to the punchline, that they spent a lot of time together and had a close bond. It was really nice to see. You thought about how stiff and professional the members of Storm PAR seemed and you found yet another reason to be thankful Scott had turned you away. There was no way you would be having this much fun with his team.

As time went on and the clouds above you began to darken, Dexter began to explain how storms were formed, what kinds of conditions were necessary for them, the destruction they could cause, and how much scientists still didn’t know about them. Dani rested her head in her hand, looking half-asleep as she struggled to listen to information you were sure she had heard a million times before, but you were captivated.

Just as Dexter began telling you how the radar in the center console worked, the radio crackled to life and Tyler’s voice, distorted slightly through the ancient speaker, came through. “You okay back there, sweetheart?” Dani picked up the receiver and passed it back to you. “Dani and Dexter aren’t just bickering the whole time, are they?”

You laughed as both Dani and Dexter objected to that statement. “No, they’re great. Dexter’s been teaching me all about the science behind the storms. It’s been much more interesting than those dry reports Scotty left behind.” You saw Dexter beaming in the rearview mirror and you smiled back at him.

“Well, just don’t let him get started on funnel formation or you might change your mind.” Dexter shot a stern glance at the radio as Dani looked out the window, swallowing a laugh. Then, lowering his voice slightly so it felt like he was speaking to you and you alone, Tyler said, “I can’t wait to get you up here with me so I can show you the storm through my eyes.”

Clutching the radio closer to your face, you smiled softly. “That sounds amazing. I can’t wait. And Tyler, I—” You wanted to thank him again for everything he was doing for you. For welcoming you into his life without a second thought and introducing you to these other people who were already starting to feel more like family than your own flesh-in-blood. But, more than that, you wanted to thank him for the way he always made you feel as if he was actually excited you were there—that you were wanted. But just as you were trying to find the words to express those feelings, you remembered the rest of the team could hear you and you quickly cleared your throat. “Um, just be safe up there. You can’t show me anything tomorrow if you do something stupid today.”

“You heard the lady, Boone. Guess we’re taking it easy today.” You heard Boone muttering his objection and you could almost see his pout through the radio. “Cell should be coming up on our left. Y’all enjoy the show.”

The radio clicked off, but you continued staring at the receiver, cupping it close to your chest as you thought about all the things you wished you had been able to say to him.

Glancing back at you, Dani and Dexter exchanged a look before chuckling to themselves. Looking up, you asked, “What?”

“Oh, nothing,” Dani said, examining her nails. “Just seems that someone’s already fallen under the spell of the ol’ Owens charm.”

You raised an eyebrow. “‘The ol’ Owens charm’?”

“You know exactly what I mean. Believe it or not, he doesn’t do it on purpose, it’s just who he is and he can’t turn it off if he tried—not that he even realizes he’s doing it. He’s just naturally one smooth SOB that anyone could find hard to resist.”

A vice suddenly tightened around your heart making it hard to breathe. Was…was that all this was? Did Tyler treat everyone he met with the same kind of attention and kindness? Were you reading into his actions more than you should? 

Trying to maintain a blank expression, you shook your head. “Well, it’s not like that. He’s just letting me hang out with you guys to piss off my brother.”

“That’s what he said…but I’ve seen that look before,” Dani said smugly. 

“Dani…” Dexter muttered, giving her a pointed glance.

“What look?” you asked.

“The one you had when Tyler was talking to you. Like you were soaring on cloud nine and he was the only other person up there with you. Happens all the time.”

“Dani,” Dexter said a little louder.

But she either didn’t hear him or ignored him as she continued, “It doesn’t help that he’s so damn noble on top of everything. You should see the things he does when we stop by a town that has just been hit. He’s almost been crushed in more destroyed houses than I can count trying to go back for a kid’s teddy bear or a family’s photo album. The guy just can’t say no to someone in need.”

“Dani!”

“What?” She glanced at her friend then back to you and her smile faded. She must have noticed the way you had folded in on yourself, your arms wrapped tightly around your middle as you tried to process everything she had said. 

Stuttering slightly, Dani tried to backtrack. “Hey, listen, I didn’t mean…” She sighed and ran her hand through her dark hair. “I might be wrong. Tyler’s never invited someone to join the team outta nowhere like this. And he’s seemed different since he came back from your date yesterday.”

“It wasn’t a dat—” you mumbled, but she cut you off.

“Whatever it was. He’s had even more swagger in his step than usual and, this morning, he checked his watch like a million times to make sure he wasn’t late meeting you at your room. And Tyler never gets wound up like that for anyone. Right, Dexter?” The man nodded, and Dani smiled as if to say “see? I told you”. But then her smile dimmed slightly. “Just…just be careful. You seem like a really nice girl and none of us want to see you get hurt. So maybe know where you stand with him before you let yourself fall too hard.”

“Thanks,” you said, letting your arms unfold slightly. You were still questioning every interaction you had had with Tyler, but knowing you might have had some effect on him did make you feel a little better.

“Plus, you’ve been a lot of fun to have around and I’d hate for you to leave because Tyler can’t see what a catch he has in front of him.” Dani winked at you, and you gave her a small smile. 

You lean forward and hand her the radio. In an attempt to break some of the tension that has now filled the camper van, you asked Dexter to resume what he was saying when Tyler called. But as he happily returns to explaining the radar monitor, the excitement you had previously had listening to his lessons had evaporated. Instead, all you could think about was Tyler.

You thought about the way he held you close to his chest last night, his arms wrapped around you as you cried. You thought about the way he defended you to Scott, how he said you had found someone willing to give you their “attention and love”. You thought about that spark of electricity flowing between you as he pressed his lips to the back of your hand, and how that same spark seemed to gleam in his eyes before he left. You thought about this morning as you had leaned in to kiss Tyler, and how for just a brief moment before Scott’s slamming truck door ruined the moment, you swore you saw Tyler begin to lean in too.

Were you just seeing what your smitten heart wanted to see? 

The more you thought about it, the more you realized Dani was right. You needed to know for sure how Tyler felt before your feelings for him grew any stronger. If he was just being nice and that was all, that was fine. You were supposed to be here to get revenge on Scott, not to fall in love. So if that was the case, you would stuff down these developing feelings and try your best to forget them. But if Tyler really did feel this same magnetic pull that you did, well…that would be great to know too.

Part 5 coming 9/9!

Tag list: @green-socks, @mayhem24-7forever, @blue-aconite, @hederasgarden, @writercole,

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[polakina]

when you wear their clothes

call of duty headcanons #9

hc masterlist // masterlist

so writing a book is harder than i thought...like a full fucking novel. how do people do this?

rating: explicit

-

loves it

loves it every. fucking. time.

usually finds you in his shirt when he gets home from a long few weeks at work away from you

its always his favourite shirt

an old rock band tee he used to wear when he was younger and could never bring himself to get rid of

it hugged your thighs and rested just above your knees

he adored the fact that you wore his clothes

he adored it even more when he pulled it out of the wardrobe and it smelled of you

often times he couldn't help himself around you when you wore that shirt

loved to fuck you in that shirt

bury his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in the fabric that smelled only of your perfume when he thrusted into you

lost all sense of subtlety when he noticed you didn't wear anything underneath it

oh how he knew you loved to tease him

bending over to collect the laundry off the floor, teasing him as he caught a glimpse of what was shielded between your legs

you often found yourself bent over the closest surface whenever you did that, his hands roaming over your ass, pushing the long fabric up your body, the tee bunching against the center of your spine

"wearing my clothes around the house, hmm love? god i fucking love it when you do that"

"god you look so fucking good in my shirts"

looks forward to coming home and seeing you in his clothes

its what makes him drive just that tiny bit faster to reach the driveway

forgot how to breathe the first time you wore his hoodie around the house

you were absentmindedly humming to yourself, watering the various plants and tidying the bookshelves

he always found it cute how you had to push the sleeves up your arms because they were too long

loved pulling the hood over your head and chuckling when the edge of the hood reached your nose

sometimes, when putting laundry away in the set of drawers, he'd pull that hoodie out and press his nose against the fabric, inhaling deeply to fill his nose when your scent

he found himself so aroused, so turned on when you wore his clothes

he couldn't understand why

but just as quick as he'd seen those clothes on you, they were on the floor even faster

"you should wear my clothes more often, darling"

"you've got no fucking idea how much it turns me on seeing you dressed like that"

he'd fuck you until he ran out of breath, until sweat dripped down his brows

after that one time, you always found that hoodie in your drawer instead of his, always freshly washed and folded along with your clothes

had always dreamed of this moment

he'd recently bought a new denim jacket with a fur lining for the colder months

you both liked going for walks into the nearby town during autumn and winter, to get coffee in your joint favourite cafe and catch up

but when he couldn't find his jacket , he turned to you, his heart jumping when he saw it covering your body

smiles softly every time you say "i'll just get my jacket" and walk out in that denim jacket of his

the very definition of 'what's mine is yours' and loves it

leaves it out for you by the front door on purpose so you'll grab it on the way out of the house

you like to wear it when you go out to drink because it keeps you warm when you go out for a smoke

once he's got a few drinks in him, anything's on the table

and you know it

which is exactly why you do it

being in a public setting makes him just that much bolder

his hands find his way under that jacket, pushing your dress up over your ass, the tail of the jacket just covering what could be a very explicit scene for some passersby

"fuck, lass, the things you do to me. bet you can feel it, yeah?"

"aw baby, you're cold? don't worry, i'll warm you right up. you just keep my jacket on and you'll be fine, sweetheart"

you guys are a similar size in clothes, which he secretly loves but also hates

one time you saw him wearing your hoodie and couldn't stop laughing about it for hours because he didn't even realise

was very careful picking out his clothes after that

but if you wear his? god, he doesn't know how to act. or what to say

it started out with small things

the occasional shirt, the odd jumper

but when you came downstairs one night wearing his pajamas, he couldn't stop smiling

"what you doing there, babe? is that why it took you so long upstairs? finding my clothes, huh?"

plaid, red and black pajama pants with a matching sleep shirt

he loved that look on you. a little baggy but a perfect fit

made for you

"come here, babe" he'd coax you over

he loved feeling his clothes on your skin, seeing the swell of your breasts between the collar of the shirt

"babe, you look so damn good right now"

he'd make you ride him while you wore his clothes, just pulling the pants down enough to slide his cock into you with ease

you found a lot more of his clothes lying around for convenience rather than your own, which you could never seem to locate

[yuujispinkhair]

Tease

You get caught up in a game of seduction with your new housemate Solomon. A game you never announced publicly. But the rules are clear. Whoever can make the other give in to their desires first is the winner. In more ways than one. Who will it be? The sexy sorcerer or you?

Pairing: Solomon x Reader (female) Genre: smut + fluff Word Count: 3k Warnings: 18+, smut, sexual teasing, mentions of mutual masturbation through the bedroom wall, mirror sex, nipple play, fingering, praise, dirty talk, slight over-stimulation. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

It's a game. A game of who can seduce the other one first. A game of who will give in first to their desires. It has been going on for weeks now. Ever since you moved into Cocytus Hall with Solomon. You can always feel his eyes on you, following you everywhere you go. And you do the same, unable to keep your gaze off the silver-haired sorcerer, who somehow has become even more attractive now that you are so close to him all the time.

Yes, it's part of the game when Solomon flirts with you openly. When he smiles that charming smile and calls you love and darling, and compliments you whenever he can.

Just like it's part of the game when you grin like the Cheshire Cat and call him your boyfriend in front of the demon brothers, with a teasing wink in Solomon's direction and a friendly pat on his thigh.

Solomon tells everyone during dinner that you are very special to him and that the two of you have a very deep relationship, making it sound as if you are fucking on every surface of your shared home. His words are accompanied by a soft touch of his fingertips on your hand that's resting next to your plate. Under the table, you have to press your thighs together as heat throbs in your core.

In turn, you pretend to stumble over the carpet in your living room the next day, landing conveniently in Solomon's lap, where he is man-spreading on the couch, looking so sexy that your panties are already sticky with wetness.

His reaction is a low, breathy whisper,

"Careful, darling. Don't hurt yourself. You're lucky I was sitting here to catch you."

You almost moan when you nuzzle your face into his neck and let your lips brush teasingly over his sensitive skin as you whisper thanks to him. However, your smile is victorious when you feel a tell-tale hardness press against you.

But he resists you, just like you resist him too. No winner is declared tonight. You go to sleep in separate rooms, listening to each other's soft moans carrying through the thin wall, as both of you have a hand between your legs, touching yourself to the thought of the other.

You start dressing in your tightest clothes and shortest dresses, making sure to give your sexy sorcerer something to fantasize about every day.

But you aren't the only one making this game move.

You chuckle softly when you realize that anytime Solomon enters your shared home, he immediately takes off his flowy coat. Revealing his tall, lean muscled figure to you in his tight-fitting black pants and the long-sleeved shirt that shows off his body. You can see every firm muscle. He looks good! 

You know he is doing it on purpose. You know it by the way he cocks his head and smiles as if daring you. As if saying, 'Come here and put your hands on me, darling. Don't you want to touch me?'

Your fingers twitch with the almost irresistible urge to just lunge at him and grab those sexy muscles. But you refuse. Balling your fingers into fists and smiling back at him, angelic, sweet, innocent. You will not lose this game!

And so the game continues without any player ever mentioning that it is taking place. 

You and Solomon are teasing each other and flirting 24/7, filling the room with so much sexual tension that it is almost touchable.

But never more than that.

Neither wants to lose, it seems. Both of you are ambitious players.

You turn your head to the side and laugh before you are too caught up in Solomon's blue eyes and seductive voice while he caresses your cheek under the guise of brushing away a breadcrumb.

And he gently but firmly pushes you off his lap and off his hard-on with a soft laugh and a good-natured,

"I suggest you get some rest, love, if you are so unsteady on your pretty feet that you trip and fall into my lap.

You know that he knows what you are doing. And he knows that you know too. Both of you seem to enjoy this game of slow seduction immensely. You definitely do. It's addictive to tease and flirt and see how far you can go until Solomon snaps. Until you win.

Ironically, when it finally happens, it isn't even part of your elaborate plan to get some sexy sorcerer dick. It is just you being a forgetful idiot.

You have just finished your long luxurious bath when you realize you forgot to bring fresh clothes.

You are too busy cursing under your breath about having to walk down the cold hallway stark-naked that you don't even see him until a graceful but firm hand closes around your arm.

"Enough is enough, you little tease. What do you think you're doing? You're the naughtiest apprentice I ever had."

Solomon's voice is low, talking slowly, pronouncing every word clearly. The tone of his voice is a seductive mix of stern and amused. His words and the firm grip on your arm leave no doubt. Tonight the two of you will cross that invisible line that you have been tiptoeing around.

Your breath hitches in your throat.

"S... Solomon."

You can feel his tall body pressing against your back now. Firm muscles and potent magic. It's arousing to have him this close. To stand here stark naked while he is fully clothed. A shudder washes over you, accompanied by a pulsing sensation between your legs. You can feel yourself getting wet just from this.

And it only gets more intense when you feel the luxurious fabric of his clothes brush over your skin. When you feel the firmness of his body and his warm breath on your neck as he leans down to murmur in your ear,

"I admit defeat. I can't keep my hands off you any longer. But just so you know, sweetheart. You aren't playing fair."

A light gasp escapes your mouth when the grip of his strong hands tightens on your arms, and he steers you back into the bathroom you just left.

Your heart is beating up to your throat, your mind is spinning, and your pussy is very, very wet. You feel light-headed, almost dizzy from excitement.

Solomon is so strong, so powerful, easily maneuvering you through the vast bathroom. He stops walking, and the firm grip on your upper arms loosens, replaced by his long fingers gently running down your arms. His thumbs graze the sides of your naked breasts, sending shock waves of pleasure through you.

You lift your head and blink. Your breath comes out shakily when you realize where you are. Your reflection is staring back at you from the full-length mirror, eyes heavily lidded, pupils blown wide, and lips parted almost dumbly. Your breasts are enticingly squished together from the way you press your arms to your sides, your nipples erect and so sensitive that even the brush of air makes you moan softly.

You look slutty. Aroused and naughty, standing here in front of the mirror, naked in the arms of the man you desire so badly.

Blue eyes meet yours in the mirror. Solomon's gaze is deep and intense, desire burning unguardedly in those beautiful blue and brown irises. Yet, underneath the desire, you can still see a cheeky twinkle. The same sparkle you have seen every day since your little game started.

You return his intense gaze, sure that he can see how turned on you are. And then his eyes leave yours to slowly trail down further, taking in the sight of your naked body, your full breasts, and all your curves. You gulp when his gaze lingers on the place between your thighs.

Your pulse is fluttering nervously. It's humiliating to be so fully exposed to Solomon's lustful gaze, To be completely naked while he is still dressed, knowing that he is looking at your pussy. The thought alone makes more cream coat your pussy lips. 

You make an embarrassing noise, a soft squeak, and turn your face to the side, too ashamed suddenly to look into the mirror and see Solomon's hungry gaze on your exposed body.

A soft laugh fills the room, and strong arms wrap around your waist while warm lips leave a barely palpable trail of kisses over your neck.

"Don't act shy now, darling. Isn't this what you planned? Didn't you want to seduce me? Didn't you want to drive me crazy with your body? It certainly worked."

He pulls you closer to him until your body is flush against his. And you can feel it. You can feel how crazy you drive him. How much he wants you. You can feel his hard cock press against your back, large and hot even through the silky fabric of his neat black pants.

A whine escapes your lips. A sound so needy that it's embarrassing. But you nod and answer him with a breathy,

"Y... yes. That was my plan."

"I have to congratulate you on your win, then. I couldn't resist your charms any longer. Well played, sweetheart."

His voice is velvety soft, warm, and deep, arousal clear in it. But there is also a teasing tone to it.

Soft, warm hands come up to cup your breasts and squeeze them gently.

"Ah, yes, just as I thought. You feel so good under my hands."

Solomon's touch is loving but firm. Long fingers sprawl over your tits, playing with them, squeezing them lovingly, making you moan and let your head fall back against Solomon's shoulder.

Technically you have won. But have you really? You aren't sure who is seducing who at the moment. Solomon took full control over the situation, even though you are the one who was proclaimed the winner. But there is no doubt about who is in charge at the moment.

Maybe it's his natural dominance. Maybe it's his height and strength. Maybe the powerful magic exuding from him. No matter what it is, you are putty in his arms. Your breath comes out in short gasps, your body is melting against Solomon's firm muscles, heart racing wildly, and pussy throbbing with need, so wet that you can feel it on your inner thighs.

Solomon's fingers begin to toy with your nipples, pinching them between two fingers, rolling them gently, teasingly tugging on them until you moan loudly and your eyes close in pleasure.

"Open your eyes. I want you to look at yourself."

Solomon's breath is warm on your neck, and his voice is dripping with desire and smugness. He loves the power he has over you. And you love it too, love being under his spell, trapped in his strong arms.

You sob as you obey his command and open your eyes. What you see in the mirror makes you moan loudly. You see yourself squirming needily in Solomon's arms, lips hanging open as moans spill from them, eyes clouded over by lust. And your nipples are stiff and erect, tits plump in Solomon's strong hands where he squishes them together.

He presses a lingering kiss to the side of your neck, blue eyes watching you admiringly in the mirror.

"Yes, keep looking, darling. Look how beautiful you are. I want you to watch closely. Watch me play with you, my pretty girl."

You whine when his warm, loving hands let go of your sensitive tits. But they only wander further down your body, caressing your sides slowly, while hot kisses trail up and down your neck and the thick hardness trapped in Solomon's pants throbs against your back.

You would make a pact with him right this second just to get his cock inside you. But the only thing you can do is shiver and exhale shakily as skilled fingers caress your hips.

Somehow you know Solomon won't give you the whole package tonight. The game isn't over yet. But you will take everything he is willing to give you. You will collect your prize for your victory by letting yourself fall apart under Solomon's magical fingers.

Those fingers brush teasingly over your inner thighs. They graze lightly over your wet slit. And you gasp loudly, pussy creaming up even more, hot and slick against Solomons exploring hands.

"Let me see all of you, my love."

Your gaze is glued to where Solomon's firm fingers spread your pussy lips open, exposing your glistening wet clit and folds. You are dripping with arousal, your cunt giving away just how much you crave the gorgeous sorcerer.

A low sexy moan is coming from him, and he rolls his hips against your ass, pushing his large cock against you, letting you feel how hard he is for you.

"Oh fuck, look at you. Look at my pretty girl and her pretty pussy. So beautiful and so wet. Let me take care of that pretty pussy for you."

Two fingers find your puffy clit and rub slow circles around it, spreading your cream over it, making your hips buck and your mouth part with loud moans.

Solomon's breath is hot on your neck as his soft low moans join yours. His fingers keep flicking your swollen bud, gentle and slow. And maybe he is really working magic on you because nothing has ever felt so good as Solomon's hands on your body, on your tits, and your pussy.

You gulp hard as you observe yourself in the mirror, watching yourself spread your legs sluttily for Solomon. Watching him rub your needy pussy so expertly that you are a shaking, whining mess.

"Yes, just like that, darling. Look how beautiful you are. You're doing so well. You're such a good girl for me."

You don't know whether it's the praise coming out of Solomon's mouth in that sexy raspy tone or whether it's the way he rubs and pampers your clit, that makes you sob loudly. You are already so embarrassingly close to cumming.

Solomon pushes two fingers inside you, making you see stars. It's like he is using his magic on you, like it is inside you, filling your pussy, making it throb with a kind of pleasure you haven't known before. He fucks you with his fingers, deep and good, while his other hand massages your clit.

Your eyes close as you give yourself completely to the sexy sorcerer, leaning on him, your head resting against his firm chest, legs spread for him, moaning his name while your cream is dripping down his long fingers.

"Keep your eyes open, sweetheart. Watch me pamper that cute pussy of yours."

What you see is a total horny wreck. Your tits bounce sluttily from how hard you ride Solomon's fingers, so desperate to cum. The noises that fall from your parted lips are obscene, loud, needy mewls and sobs, but they almost get drowned out by the loud squishing noises of your overly wet pussy.

Solomon's fingers push against that sweet spot deep inside you, making your hips buck wildly. You are almost crying by now from how good it feels, getting on your tiptoes, body so ready to cum all over those gorgeous fingers, needily chasing after your high.

"Solomon!! Oh yes, yes, right there! Ah!! I'm gonna...I'm gonna..."

"Mmmh, I know, darling, I know. Show me how pretty you look when you cum all over my fingers."

You fall apart right then and there, crying out brokenly as your hands grab Solomon's arms, digging your nails into them as your orgasm overtakes you, long and hot, with a dizzying force. Your pussy spasms around Solomon's fingers, body shaking, loud cries falling from your lips. You feel hot all over, your face, your whole body, but most of all, your pussy. It's almost too much, too intense.

You are trembling and sobbing, clawing at Solomon's wrists, but he stops you,

"Shh, let me take proper care of you, just like you deserve."

And he keeps fucking you with those talented fingers, slower now, while his thumb plays with your over-stimulated clit, gradually slowing his movements to slow, gentle caresses. But he doesn't stop until he has rubbed every last wave of orgasm out of you.

When he finally pulls his fingers out of you, he lets them trail over your puffy clit, making your hips buck one last time before you collapse bonelessly against Solomon, resting your full weight against his firm body, but he doesn't even stagger.

Your breathing is ragged, and your pussy is pulsing with the heavy aftershocks of your orgasm. You lift your head to look at Solomon's beautiful face in the mirror. His cheeks are flushed, and his blue eyes are dark with desire. But the teasing smile is still on his face as he brings the fingers you just came on to his lips and slowly licks them clean, rolling his eyes in pleasure as if your taste is the most delicious thing the self-proclaimed gourmet ever tasted in his long life.

A delighted smile spreads over his face. And with that, Solomon steps away from you, strong hands steadying you, making sure you can stand on your own before he lets go of you.

"If you will excuse me now, please. I have to take care of an urgent matter."

He winks at you and gestures to the big bulge in his tight black pants.

"I can help you with that, darling."

"I know, but not today, sweetheart. Some dishes get even better when you let them simmer for a while."

He grins at you, and you find a matching smile tugging at your lips. Before you can stop yourself, you blurt out,

"Hey, Solomon?"

"Yes, (y/n)?"

"I didn't plan this... I really forgot to bring a change of clothes."

Blue eyes blink at you for a moment, and then loud laughter fills the room. Solomon is shaking from it, holding his stomach as he grins broadly at you.

"Still, congrats on your win! But don't think the game is over yet. This was only the first round. Who knows, maybe I will win the next one."

Thank you so much for reading! This is my first time writing for Solomon. I just couldn't resist anymore!! He has been one of my faves for a while already, and ever since we moved in with him in Nightbringer, I am constantly spinning more and more out of control aaaaaah I want him so bad!!!

I hope you enjoyed this little story and that my characterization was ok. I decided that as a fellow Sagittarius, Solomon surely loves a little game where he has to chase the object of his desires and gets chased in return. It makes things so much more exciting :) There might be another part someday. I mean, as Solomon said, the game is still on, and we still need to get that sorcerer dick ;)

Please let me know what you think! Comments and reblogs make me happy!

[whisper-in-the-night]

Undesirable

Plot: Thomas is omega who will never find his true mate. Or no?

Warnings: omegavers; slight mention of bullying; deviation from the canon; omega!Thomas Hewitt, alpha!male!reader / Y/N

Note: it's my first work in this fandom and even first work in Omegaverse, so I hope it'll be fine. Thanks for reading. About 3-4 chapters planned here.

Part 1 | Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

•••

It's hard to be an omega. And it's even harder to be an omega when you don't fit the description of an 'ordinary, attractive' omega.

Thomas understood the essence of this system from his childhood, as soon as he went to school. And although, because of his strength and size, Hewitt thought he was at least a beta as a child, fate seemed to mock him. During one of the tests to determine the second gender, his results finally turned out to be positive. The young man nervously looked at the neatly folded piece of paper in the envelope. He carefully pulled it out and unwrapped it. Many of his health data were written on white blank paper, but what caught his attention was the green inscription in the middle of the sheet "Omega".

At first, the boy did not attach importance to this word, his childish curiosity and some naivety accepted it simply as a fact. Other children in the class were violently discussing their secondary genders, sharing their impressions and all that. A couple of minutes after the results were given, Thomas was approached by a group of children who had previously often mocked him because of his external features. As soon as they surreptitiously noticed the inscription in Thomas's results, mocking laughter broke out in the crowd. "Look at him! He's a freak! So also omega! No alpha in your life will look at you, monster," one of the boys said enthusiastically, grinning nastily.

That evening, Thomas locked himself in his room. After several unsuccessful attempts to invite her son to dinner, Luda went up to the second floor and gently knocked on the child's door. There was no response. Then she cautiously opened the door. The lights in the room were turned off and the windows were curtained. The woman cautiously went inside, when suddenly she heard a slight crunch under her feet. Picking up a crumpled piece of paper from the floor, Luda read the unfortunate word. She carefully sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled the child into her arms. The boy allowed himself to cry out loud, burying his face in his mother's chest, clutching the fabric of her dress in his fists.

As the years passed, the Hewitt family was left alone in this ill-fated town on the outskirts of Texas. They had to come to the current of life that we all know about. This family consisted mostly of betas, with the exception of the youngest, Thomas. And yet now, life seemed much easier for him. Since he left school, just for many years, his abusers have grown up and left, and Thomas has become a little easier. Although self-doubt and pain remained deep in his big warm heart. He really believed in their words. Thomas was too big and strong man to be a desirable omega. Too strong, too big, too wayward, too rude. The man has long accepted his place in society. Although sometimes he still sat in his room at night with a heavy heart. Sometimes he wished he had a mate he could rely on, a mate who could protect him and calm his heat, maybe even give him pups. But Thomas knew he didn't have time for that, he had to protect the family.

***

The sun seemed to come out of hell in Texas this year. The heat was incredible, there was a drought all around. The small grass turned yellow, and those rare trees turned into a kind of deadwood. There's not a cloud in the sky.

Thomas was helping his mother in the store, it was damn stuffy in the room. Recently, due to the intense heat, there were no visitors from the word at all, so he did not care about his appearance at all. The sleeves of a light-colored shirt were rolled up to the elbows, dark tangled hair was pulled into a low ponytail, only a few strands fell over a face in a leather mask. The man's brown trousers were slightly damp from how often he wiped his sweaty palms on the fabric.

Suddenly, a light ringing of the door bell was heard, followed by Luda's tired but pleasant voice.

"Hello, how can I help you?" the woman asked the man who entered.

"Oh yeah, hey. I'd like to refuel my car," you replied smiling, scratching the back of your head, "Do you have some gasoline?"

The woman smiled slightly, which caused fine wrinkles to run across her tired face, and turned towards the back room, shouting a short "Tommy!". A couple of minutes later, a dark-haired man came out from behind the shelves, holding a canister of gasoline. His gaze slid down on you, as if assessing you, and his eyes widened for a moment. You were a tall, muscular man, it seemed, even one and a half times bigger than Thomas himself. Your short sleeved high-collared shirt was unbuttoned at the top buttons, and because of the sweat, the outlines of your strong body showed through the damp fabric. You were also wearing beige breeches that hugged your toned ass beautifully. Thomas licked his lips almost instinctively and came out from behind the counter, handing you a can of gasoline. And indeed, you were almost a head taller than him, which made Thomas feel almost small, which had not happened to him for a long time. The man's nostrils were touched by your island fragrance. Something like an orange with black pepper and bergamot mixed with your body's natural scent. Your pheromones, even under a veil of suppressants, made Thomas feel heavy in his knees.

You smiled briefly and picked up the canister, lightly brushing the rough skin of Thomas's fingers. It almost made the man blush. You took your wallet out of your pocket and handed the woman some green bills, so she nodded curtly.

"Tommy, can you help the young man?"

He didn't need to be asked twice. Although Thomas hesitated a little at first.

Thomas followed you outside in case you needed help, which he clearly doubted. You looked like a confident, independent person who didn't need anyone's help. Besides, you were clearly an alpha, given the smell of your pheromones. It was an extra time for Thomas to be in your presence. He had met alphas before, at least because many of his victims were one, but he had never felt such a strange sense of comfort around an alpha before. Your presence calmed his inner omega.

"The summer is too hot this year," you muttered with a slight grin, sorting out the car and seemingly hoping to strike up some kind of small conversation with the big guy. There was no response. Thomas's head was too busy with your pleasant scent. "You're not the talkative type, are you?" There was playfulness in your tone, but you clearly weren't trying to humiliate another man. Thomas frowned a little at first, listening to your words, but eventually relaxed, nodding briefly. The scars on his face always made it difficult for him to speak clearly, but lately, due to the intense summer heat, every word he uttered seemed almost painful.

After ten long minutes of intense silence, you finally finished refueling the car and put the empty canister on the ground, brushing off your hands.

"Well, thank you. I think without you, I would already be stuck somewhere on the road in this wilderness..." You said, looking back at Thomas and smiling amiably. "Well, alright. I'm already a little late. I wouldn't like to be late for my sister's birthday. For missing her 'special day' one more time, she'll definitely stab me half to death," you said with a light laugh and patted Thomas on the shoulder, "Bye."

Finally, you went to the car door, got into the driver's seat and started the engine, driving away from the old shop.

Thomas watched your dirty beige car drive away for a long time. Your touch is still clearly felt on his hot skin, and his head is slightly dizzy from the citrus scent of your body.

[in-my-feels-probably]

for your slytherin boys reacts, what about how they react when you dress up as them for halloween? :)

How the Slytherin Boys React to You Dressing Up as Them For Halloween

Request: for your slytherin boys reacts, what about how they react when you dress up as them for halloween? :)

Hi! Happy Halloween! I hope everyone is having a good day. I’m sorry to those of you who wanted more of the boys, but I only included Theo, Enzo, and Mattheo on this one. If you want to see some of the other boys in my future work, please let me know. These three are just who I’m focused on right now. Also, I wrote this with a fem reader in mind, I hope that’s ok. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this :)

(Warnings: nothing? idk, theo’s might be just a tiny bit suggestive. also vague descriptions of size differences. let me know if i missed anything)

—

Theodore Nott

Instead of wearing his clothes, you’d dress up in something inspired by him. But you’d still use a few things of his just so he’d get the point.

You wouldn’t even be able to walk in the door before he’d notice your costume and smirk.

He’d tease you about it, but he’d secretly think it was so attractive. You’re literally advertising that you're his girl with the costume and he isn’t about to complain about that. 

He’d just have to compromise somehow.

You thought your costume was pretty subtle. A white button down shirt and a black skirt with sheer tights (or slacks, whatever you’re more comfortable with.) You had a green tie loosely hanging around your neck, a few of Theo’s rings on your fingers. You stole a cigarette from his coat pocket earlier that day, and you had it tucked behind your ear where it could be seen.

You considered nicking his lighter too, but you knew he would have come looking for it immediately, and you wanted your costume to be a surprise.

You went up to his dorm right before the party since you wanted to go together. You barely made it through the door before you heard a chuckle, making you pause in the doorway.

“What?”

“Nothing, pretty girl,” he smiled, waltzing over to you. “You didn’t tell me you were going to the party as me.”

Your shoulders fell as you looked up at him. “How did you know?”

Theo grinned down at you, reaching to pluck the cigarette from behind your ear. He placed it back into his pocket, pulling you into his chest as your face soured. He swayed you back and forth, chuckling.

“You look beautiful, darling. It’s a good costume. I wish you would have told me, though. How are people going to know I’m yours if I have nothing of yours to show for it?”

You smiled, squeezing his hand. You let go to reach for your bag, pulling out a tube of lipstick Pansy had let you borrow. You smeared it on, tossing it back in your bag before grinning up at Theo. You hooked your finger under his chin, pulling him down to your level before dramatically peppering kisses across his cheek and jaw. When you pulled away, he had perfectly shaped stains across his face.

“Better? Can we go down now?”

“In a minute,” Theo grinned, pulling you closer. “I think you missed a spot. Pucker up, love.”

Mattheo Riddle

Dressing up as him was pretty much an excuse to wear his clothes.

But you made sure to pay attention to the details, fake blood and all. He’d know immediately the second he looked at you.

Secretly was excited about couples costumes, but he thinks this is way more funny. You’d promise to do one with him next year.

Would absolutely match your energy and dress up as you for the party.

You had stolen a few of Mattheo’s rings a week or two prior to the party, feigning innocence when he’d ask if you had seen any of them. You wore one of his long sleeve button down shirts and a black tie, one of his jackets over your shoulders. You let Pansy do your makeup, and she gave you fake bruising and a cut over the bridge of your nose, completed with a swipe of fake blood.

You’d come up to his dorm to surprise him before the party, excitedly standing in front of his bed to show him your costume.

He’d smirk as he stood, coming to stand in front of you. “You’re going to the party as me?”

“Clearly,” you mused, grinning when he raised a brow at your teasing. “How do I look?”

He hooked a finger under your jaw, tilting your chin up. “You look beautiful, darling. But don’t you think we’re missing something?”

“What do you mean?” 

“You don’t think you’re going down there like that alone, do you?” He asked, smoothing his thumb over your cheek. “I want something of yours. It’s only fair, darling. Besides, I don’t have a costume.”

You chuckled, reaching for his hand. “Do I even have anything that would fit you? What, you want one of my dresses?”

“I’ve got the legs for it.”

You couldn’t help but grin, tugging him along in the direction of your dorm. “Yes, yes you do. Come on, let’s see if we can find you something.”

Mattheo ended up showing up to the party in some of your clothes looking even better than you did in them. Your friends had plenty to say, whistling and making eyes as he confidently strutted around. He probably would have even worn your heels if he could have fit into them. But he didn’t need them—you both could barely keep your eyes off of each other the whole night anyway, glued to each other's side. Heels would have just slowed you down. 

Lorenzo Berkshire

He wouldn’t even recognize you were dressed up as him.

He’d just think you looked cute in his clothes and forget all about how you were supposed to be in a costume. You’d have to actually point it out for him to realize what you were doing.

He’d think it was really sweet, but he’d feel a little left out. He’d ask for something of yours so he could be dressed as you, and he’d wear it proudly.

You met Enzo in the Common Room, setting down your cup as you spotted him. You smiled at his costume. He was a vampire again—he wore the same costume every year because he liked wearing the velvet cape, and it was, in his own words, cooler than a superhero with a cape.

You walked over, spinning him around. “Hi, love. You look nice…as always.”

Enzo could barely let out a chuckle before he realized you were wearing his favorite shirt, the cuffs rolled up around your wrists because they were hanging too low. You had popped a few of his rings on your fingers, charming them to fit you for the night instead. 

“Pretty girl,” he smiled, wrapping his arms around you. “You look so cute. But I thought you were wearing a costume tonight?”

You nodded into his chest. “I am…I’m you.”

Enzo pulled away and placed his hands on your shoulders, holding you at arms length. He looked you over once more, a giddy smile on his face. But his smile slowly fell, making you raise a brow.

“What is it?”

“Nothing…I kinda just wish you told me,” he shrugged, trying to brush it off. 

You shook your head in confusion. “What? Why?”

“Well, I would’ve worn something of yours. Then we could’ve come as each other. I’ve always wanted to do a couples costume.”

You felt your heart warm at his words, taking his hand in yours. 

“And retire the vampire costume? I couldn’t do that to you,” you mused, tugging him in the direction of your dorm. “Come on, let’s go find you something of mine. I’ll jazz mine up a little bit so you can keep the cape on—we’ll just be each other, but vampires. Does that sound good?”

Enzo smiled, nodding as you led the way.

—

A/N - Hi! Happy Halloween! I know it’s late, but I made it before midnight! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this. I’ve got a few more requests to fill, and I’ll have those up soon. See you soon :)

[star-girl-05]

Heat Wave

Rafe Cameron x Reader

~★~❤︎~✦~

“I didn’t think it was supposed to be this hot today” The obx was always warm, but there are days you can get away with long sleeves, specifically sweatshirts. You thought today was one of those days but you were mistaken. Now you're uncomfortably warm even with a fan blowing on you. 

“Random heat wave” Rafe boredly states “Why, you hot?” you stare at him like he has two heads. It’s obvious that you’re roasting, your face is beet red. 

“I’m roasting, how are you not hot?” It was frustrating that he looked so collected while you're so uncomfortable.  

“Probably because I’m not dressed in a sweater, why don’t you take it off if you're so hot?”

“I can’t” now that's got his attention he’s immediately eyeing you up and down specifically your chest. 

He licks his lips “Your not wearing anything underneath”

You laugh crossing your arms over your chest. “You know this is why everyone thinks we're dating” Everyone in the OBX knows you as Rafe Cameron's girlfriend, even though you're not. Officially anyway, you both have a silent agreement that your each others.

“Who cares, what people think” he’s moved across the room sitting on the bed with you. “Now if your hot you should take off your sweater”

“I just told you-”

He cuts you off a stupid smirk on his face, one you instantly recognize as his dirty face. “I know, but that shouldn’t stop you” his hand slides up and under your sweater. His fingers just graze your stomach before your shoving it away. 

“Keep your hands to yourself Mr.Cameron and grab me one of your t-shirts” he groans rolling off the bed with a grumble. “And not a white one” you call back. 

He groans turning his head to look at you “You're no fun” you just laugh him off. “Here” he tosses a black t-shirt at you. You give him a small thank you before going to slip it on, only stopping when you notice his eyes on you. You don’t even have to say anything, just a look and he's pouting before turning around. “You know my feelings are going to get hurt if you continue rejecting me like this”

“Oh I’m sorry, would flashing you make it better” he quickly turns around nodding his head enthusiastically. He makes his way to the bed tackling you to the bed, his hands dipping beneath his black tee. He loves you in his clothes. “I was only teasing Rafe” you giggle, his fingers accidently tickling your sides.

“Nope you can’t take it back” he stops tickling instead gripping your hips. “If your not going to flash me then you owe me a kiss” your breath catches at his request but none the less your agreeing. Rafe seems surprised but he’s not questioning it. He leans down, pressing a deep kiss to your lips. 

You silently thank the Heat wave, as Rafe kisses down your neck.

[forusomimiya]

"Strip for me honey, slow. I want to savor every inch of you" with those lustful dark eyes burning into your skin, you stripped before him as he asked you to, leaving you only that lace outfit, and eager to be touched as soon as possible by that businessman, who had not yet taken off his suit, and who remained seated in that leather armchair, illuminated from behind with the lights of the city that could be seen from up there, as if it were a field of fireflies.

"This is going to be the dirtiest night of your life, c’mere" the tap on his leg forced you to walk towards him. Sitting on his lap and entwining your hands behind his neck, he hid his face between your breasts, smelling them, restraining himself from leaving the marks of his fingers on your waist with his grip, when he let his lips walk down your neck, in the direction of your ear, where he whispered to you: “try to stay quiet, understand?”

You nodded silently. The grip on your chin melted you so extremely badly, that when you looked up and read the "good girl" on his lips, you swore you whined.

Soon he would fuck you raw on that couch. He would make you kneel before him and make you choke on his cock under the nickname of "pretty cock sucker", which would snatch your first orgasm, and then give a good show to those watching from below that tall office block.

"Show them how pretty you get when daddy fucks you rough and let you cum around his cock after you've been good for him" the thought that someone might be watching makes the fear grow in your body, but, no one here knows you. You just came to meet that man who courted you two days ago in a bar, to fulfill your fantasy of being fucked by a businessman in his own office.

It didn't matter who was watching, ‘cause the reflection of the lights in the glass of the window in which he had you trapped, would show the details that you like in such a man, reminding you for an instant what you are doing with your life right now.

A tall, broad-shouldered man, dressed but with his blazer long forgotten. Sleeves rolled up, revealing a trail of veins on his forearm, and an expensive black and silver watch on his wrist. The top buttons of the shirt open, as a good and sexy solution to the heat on his body, but not for you when you focused on his boobs. So big... you drooled. His tie tied around your wrists, and while with one hand he leaned on the glass, with the other he held your chin, encouraging you to raise your head to see you suffer better.

He wouldn't be long before he dropped his hand on your neck to squeeze it, the veins on the back of his hand showing as he put more pressure on your throat

"C’mon pretty girl, cum with me"

This man would be your ruin in the coming months.

IWAIZUMI, USHIJIMA, OSAMU, BOKUTO, LEV, DAICHI, MATTSUN, ARAN, KUROO

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Sweeter Than Revenge Part 4

Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader, Scott's Sister!reader Summary: The next morning, you get to learn a little more about Tyler's past and what makes him the way he is. But after he introduces you to his crew, you find out some things that have you second-guessing your connection with him... Word Count: 3847 TW: Fluff, Flirting, Doubt, Developing Feelings, Unrequited Feelings (or are they...), Description of Reader's Clothes Notes: A massive thank you to @blue-aconite and @green-socks for reading this over for me and for all the constant support! And to @mayhem24-7forever for always answering my late-night panicked messages

Divider created by me (please ask/credit before using)

Series Masterlist

The next morning, Tyler knocked on your door at exactly 7:30. You were actually pretty sure you heard him walk up a few minutes before, but you hadn’t peeked out because you wanted to see how long he would stand there before announcing himself. However, the second he knocked, you swung open the door with your bag slung over your shoulder and your sunglasses snuggly settled on your face. Tyler’s hand was still raised, leaning forward to knock again, and he was taken off guard. You bit your lip to hide your smile as he quickly caught himself and straightened up. 

He was wearing what appeared to be the same boots and jeans from the night before (you had noticed a small oil stain on his right thigh when he was driving), but he had exchanged his flannel shirt for a dark maroon long-sleeved denim button-down, his sunglasses tucked into the collar. And of course, his off-white cowboy hat was proudly perched on top of his head.

You, on the other hand, had opted for an outfit rather different from the one you wore the previous night. Gone was the plunging, sheer top and itty-bitty cut-offs. Instead, you chose a comfortably fitting faded band shirt and mid-thigh cargo shorts. You had spent way too long considering your attire for the day and what Tyler may think of each option, but you finally settled on something less impressive but more yourself. It still made you feel attractive, yet comfortable.

And based on the way his eyes roamed across your body, Tyler approved of this decision. “Good morning, sweetheart. You look as beautiful as ever.”

“Thank you,” you said, stepping out into the hall and using the fact you had to lock the door as a reason to hide your face for a moment. “I wasn’t sure what one was supposed to wear to go tornado wranglin’ but this seemed like a safe choice.”

“Unlike your brother’s team, we don’t do uniforms or dress codes so whatever you wanted to wear would have been fine. In fact, just for the hell of it, Boone and I have gone on a few chases wearing nothing at all. But you won’t see those videos on our YouTube channel.” He winked at you before sliding your backpack off your shoulder and placing it on his own. Then he added, “Don’t get me wrong, I loved what you were wearing last night too, but this just…it feels more you.”

The butterflies that had laid dormant since last night once again sprang to life in your stomach. “Seems you’ve got me figured out pretty quickly there, Mr. Owens. Anything else you’ve noticed about me?”

“Let’s see…” Placing his arm over your shoulder, he began to steer you towards the stairs as he thought. “You have a sarcastic, confident shell you hide behind so people don’t see how vulnerable you feel. You know how to use your looks to your advantage in certain situations, but otherwise seem to forget how breathtaking you are. And—” you had started to turn at his last comment, but he placed his finger under your chin and tilted your head towards him “—you like to hide your face when someone compliments you, though I’m not sure yet if it’s because you don’t want them to see how their words affect you or if you don’t think you deserve the praise. Maybe a bit of both.”

You shifted under the weight of his sage-green gaze. “You make me sound like I’m heading into a battle with my armor, my weapon, and my shield.” 

“Maybe you are. Is that how it feels to you?”

In fact, it sometimes was, though you weren’t going to admit that. You rolled your eyes instead, trying to hide how rattled you were by his spot-on assessment. “Geez, and here I thought you were a tornado wrangler, not a therapist.” Shifting the topic off of yourself, you asked, “When did you learn to read people so well?”

Now it was Tyler’s turn to become uncomfortable. His eyes flickered away for the first time and he muttered, “...I’d rather not say.”

If he had seemed hurt or sad or uneasy as the two of you made your way down to the first floor, you would have dropped it immediately. However, the way he avoided eye contact now after just staring at you so intently, plus the slight redness spreading up his neck and face, told you he was hiding it for a very different reason. And after all the times you had been embarrassed in front of him, you weren’t going to let this opportunity go. 

You slipped from under his arm and turned to face him as you reached the top of the stairs. “Well, now you have to tell me! You can’t just tease me with something like that and expect me to drop it! Besides, all we’ve done since we met is talk about me and my messed up life. Let me learn something about you for once.”

He sighed, chewing on the inside of his lip, then said, “Okay, you asked.” As the two of you began walking down to the ground floor, he said, “Back before I got into storm chasing, I used to compete in the rodeo circuit.”

“Really?” you asked. “I didn’t know that. Have you ever mentioned that on your channel?”

“Nah. It was another life. But, one of the things you learn when you’re left staring down a 2,000-pound bull is how to be observant. You gotta notice every little shift or twitch he makes to predict what he’s gonna do and how to stay outta his way. And after a while, it just becomes a habit you do with everyone you meet.”

You raised one eyebrow. “Oh, so you noticed all those things about me because you were examining me like a bull about to charge you?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” he chuckled. “Which is why I didn’t want to tell you. Most girls don’t tend to like it when you compare them to a cow.” 

“Well, I’m not most girls,” you said as you reached the bottom of the stairs and faced him once more.

He smiled, his eyes sparkling in the morning light. “I’ve noticed. You’re definitely keeping me on my toes.”

“Oh?” you asked, taking a step closer to him. “Afraid you won’t get out of my way in time?”

He leaned over until the brim of his hat just grazed the top of your head. “I haven’t decided if I want to yet.”

Staring into his eyes, you felt that same zap of electricity from the night before zooming through your body. You watched his tongue peek out, slowly wet his lips, and, without meaning to, you leaned in closer until—

Slam!

Jumping at the loud noise to your left, you and Tyler both turned to see Scott glaring at the two of you as the Storm PAR team swarmed around their vehicles, loading up their gear. Scott had just slammed the sliding door on the van marked “Wizard” and, after spitting his gum on the ground and popping in a new piece, eyes trained on you the entire time, he climbed into the front seat of Scarecrow and started the engine. You saw Javi approaching Lion and he lifted his hand, giving you a small, apologetic smile that you returned. Then he climbed into the truck and the Storm PAR team pulled out of the lot. 

Whatever spell you and Tyler had been under now broken, you resumed walking towards the cluster of Wranglers’ vehicles. There was an awkward tension in the air you had never felt around him before and, in an attempt to break it, you asked, “So, is that how you read tornados so well? You approach them the same way you approached a bull?”

He shrugged, seemingly as happy to get back to the earlier conversation as you were. “More or less. There’s more science that goes into it but you just have to make careful observations and then, ultimately, go with your gut. Even if that means ignoring what all the data is telling you.”

“And that works?”

“Most of the time.”

“And when it doesn’t?”

He grinned as he approached the side of an old, beat-up camper van. “Then you better hope you have a great team watching your back.” With that, he banged twice on the side of the van.

The doors flew open and four people jumped out. You recognized them all from their YouTube videos as the other members of Tyler’s crew, but you couldn’t remember any of their names except for Boone. He was the other man you had seen with Tyler in the diner parking lot when you first arrived and he always manned the handheld camera in the videos, making commentary and jokes as Tyler drove them into a storm.

Tyler quickly introduced you to everyone. He had already filled them in on who you were and that you would be riding with them for the next week or so. You had been slightly worried about how they would feel about you tagging along given how Scott had responded to the idea of you going on a chase. However, they swarmed around you excitedly and immediately began to chat about how much you were going to love your first storm as if you had known them for ages.

It was such a stark difference from your brother’s reaction. Where he was instantly dismissive and challenged your bravery, each and every one of the Wranglers welcomed you with open arms, giving you heads-ups about what it would be like out there and assuring you it was fine to react in different ways. They even shared their various first storm chases and how they had responded (it was comforting to know that even Boone, who seemed as reckless and wild—if not more so—as Tyler, had torn a vocal chord “screaming like a little girl” the first time Tyler had planted the truck in the middle of a storm).

Your head was on a constant swivel as each of your four new friends talked over one another, and as you moved to turn from Dexter explaining the different tracking equipment the crew used to monitor storms to Dani explaining the upgrades that had been made to Tyler’s truck, you caught sight of Tyler. He was several feet away from the mob surrounding you, leaning his shoulder against the van with his arms folded across his chest, amusement gleaming in his eyes as he watched the chaos around you. Seeing the slight panic in your eyes, he chuckled softly to himself before pushing off the side of the van and clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention.

“All right guys, give her room to breathe. She’ll be here for at least a week so no need to tell her your whole life stories in the first five minutes. She’s still getting used to things around here and we don’t wanna scare her off.” As they all apologized and backed away, you tried to assure them you were fine but Tyler came over and placed his hands on your shoulders. “It’s alright, sweetheart, we’re just all a little excited to have some fresh blood around here. Now, Dexter, is there any breakfast left? I’m starved and I doubt she’s eaten either.”

You tried to insist you were fine, but the words died in your throat as Dexter opened the door to the camper van and the sticky sweet smell of freshly syruped pancakes hit your nose, eliciting a loud growl from your stomach. Tyler must have heard it because he chuckled and began directing you towards the van, walking behind you as he steered you by your shoulders. 

As you ate, it was decided that today you would ride in the camper van with Dani and Dexter so you could get close to the storms, yet not have to immediately dive into one. At first, you wanted to object, thinking they meant that figuratively. But then you remembered the videos you had seen of Tyler and Boone driving straight into the center of a tornado, and, realizing they meant that literally, you agreed it was probably for the best. Part of you wanted to impress Tyler and jump into his truck anyway, but Scott’s comment that you would get too scared and force his team to end the chase early echoed in your mind. 

You were still a little disappointed Tyler’s “embarrassing secret” he had tried to keep hidden this morning was not embarrassing at all. Instead, you had just prodded him into sharing something that made him seem infinitely cooler than he already had. And, once again, you were reminded of the fact that since you two had met, you had spent the majority of the time either complaining about how much of a jerk your brother was, how shitty of a person you used to be, or crying into his shoulder. Meanwhile, here he was, this daredevil tornado wrangler who learned how to read people by staring down deadly bulls for a living and looked like most women’s cowboy wet dream come to life. 

You wanted to prove to him that you were more than what he had seen so far—that you were worthy of all the time and attention he was giving you. If you told Tyler you wanted to ride with him, you had no doubt he would let you. But what if Scott was right and you freaked out as soon as you neared a tornado? What if you had a panic attack or somehow caused the Wranglers to turn back instead of diving into the storm? They made their money—money they used to help others—from their videos. A video they would not be able to post if they couldn’t record a storm because you were having a complete meltdown. 

So, at least for today, you climbed into the back of the camper van as everyone got ready to chase their first storm of the day.

Dani and Dexter were an interesting pair. Dani was brash and loud, riding with her boots propped up on the dashboard as she slouched in her seat, all the while telling you jokes and poking fun at the other Wranglers. Dexter was more reserved at first, but the longer Dani talked, the more comfortable he seemed and he began joining in. You could tell by how they interacted, often speaking over the other or laughing at a joke before it got to the punchline, that they spent a lot of time together and had a close bond. It was really nice to see. You thought about how stiff and professional the members of Storm PAR seemed and you found yet another reason to be thankful Scott had turned you away. There was no way you would be having this much fun with his team.

As time went on and the clouds above you began to darken, Dexter began to explain how storms were formed, what kinds of conditions were necessary for them, the destruction they could cause, and how much scientists still didn’t know about them. Dani rested her head in her hand, looking half-asleep as she struggled to listen to information you were sure she had heard a million times before, but you were captivated.

Just as Dexter began telling you how the radar in the center console worked, the radio crackled to life and Tyler’s voice, distorted slightly through the ancient speaker, came through. “You okay back there, sweetheart?” Dani picked up the receiver and passed it back to you. “Dani and Dexter aren’t just bickering the whole time, are they?”

You laughed as both Dani and Dexter objected to that statement. “No, they’re great. Dexter’s been teaching me all about the science behind the storms. It’s been much more interesting than those dry reports Scotty left behind.” You saw Dexter beaming in the rearview mirror and you smiled back at him.

“Well, just don’t let him get started on funnel formation or you might change your mind.” Dexter shot a stern glance at the radio as Dani looked out the window, swallowing a laugh. Then, lowering his voice slightly so it felt like he was speaking to you and you alone, Tyler said, “I can’t wait to get you up here with me so I can show you the storm through my eyes.”

Clutching the radio closer to your face, you smiled softly. “That sounds amazing. I can’t wait. And Tyler, I—” You wanted to thank him again for everything he was doing for you. For welcoming you into his life without a second thought and introducing you to these other people who were already starting to feel more like family than your own flesh-in-blood. But, more than that, you wanted to thank him for the way he always made you feel as if he was actually excited you were there—that you were wanted. But just as you were trying to find the words to express those feelings, you remembered the rest of the team could hear you and you quickly cleared your throat. “Um, just be safe up there. You can’t show me anything tomorrow if you do something stupid today.”

“You heard the lady, Boone. Guess we’re taking it easy today.” You heard Boone muttering his objection and you could almost see his pout through the radio. “Cell should be coming up on our left. Y’all enjoy the show.”

The radio clicked off, but you continued staring at the receiver, cupping it close to your chest as you thought about all the things you wished you had been able to say to him.

Glancing back at you, Dani and Dexter exchanged a look before chuckling to themselves. Looking up, you asked, “What?”

“Oh, nothing,” Dani said, examining her nails. “Just seems that someone’s already fallen under the spell of the ol’ Owens charm.”

You raised an eyebrow. “‘The ol’ Owens charm’?”

“You know exactly what I mean. Believe it or not, he doesn’t do it on purpose, it’s just who he is and he can’t turn it off if he tried—not that he even realizes he’s doing it. He’s just naturally one smooth SOB that anyone could find hard to resist.”

A vice suddenly tightened around your heart making it hard to breathe. Was…was that all this was? Did Tyler treat everyone he met with the same kind of attention and kindness? Were you reading into his actions more than you should? 

Trying to maintain a blank expression, you shook your head. “Well, it’s not like that. He’s just letting me hang out with you guys to piss off my brother.”

“That’s what he said…but I’ve seen that look before,” Dani said smugly. 

“Dani…” Dexter muttered, giving her a pointed glance.

“What look?” you asked.

“The one you had when Tyler was talking to you. Like you were soaring on cloud nine and he was the only other person up there with you. Happens all the time.”

“Dani,” Dexter said a little louder.

But she either didn’t hear him or ignored him as she continued, “It doesn’t help that he’s so damn noble on top of everything. You should see the things he does when we stop by a town that has just been hit. He’s almost been crushed in more destroyed houses than I can count trying to go back for a kid’s teddy bear or a family’s photo album. The guy just can’t say no to someone in need.”

“Dani!”

“What?” She glanced at her friend then back to you and her smile faded. She must have noticed the way you had folded in on yourself, your arms wrapped tightly around your middle as you tried to process everything she had said. 

Stuttering slightly, Dani tried to backtrack. “Hey, listen, I didn’t mean…” She sighed and ran her hand through her dark hair. “I might be wrong. Tyler’s never invited someone to join the team outta nowhere like this. And he’s seemed different since he came back from your date yesterday.”

“It wasn’t a dat—” you mumbled, but she cut you off.

“Whatever it was. He’s had even more swagger in his step than usual and, this morning, he checked his watch like a million times to make sure he wasn’t late meeting you at your room. And Tyler never gets wound up like that for anyone. Right, Dexter?” The man nodded, and Dani smiled as if to say “see? I told you”. But then her smile dimmed slightly. “Just…just be careful. You seem like a really nice girl and none of us want to see you get hurt. So maybe know where you stand with him before you let yourself fall too hard.”

“Thanks,” you said, letting your arms unfold slightly. You were still questioning every interaction you had had with Tyler, but knowing you might have had some effect on him did make you feel a little better.

“Plus, you’ve been a lot of fun to have around and I’d hate for you to leave because Tyler can’t see what a catch he has in front of him.” Dani winked at you, and you gave her a small smile. 

You lean forward and hand her the radio. In an attempt to break some of the tension that has now filled the camper van, you asked Dexter to resume what he was saying when Tyler called. But as he happily returns to explaining the radar monitor, the excitement you had previously had listening to his lessons had evaporated. Instead, all you could think about was Tyler.

You thought about the way he held you close to his chest last night, his arms wrapped around you as you cried. You thought about the way he defended you to Scott, how he said you had found someone willing to give you their “attention and love”. You thought about that spark of electricity flowing between you as he pressed his lips to the back of your hand, and how that same spark seemed to gleam in his eyes before he left. You thought about this morning as you had leaned in to kiss Tyler, and how for just a brief moment before Scott’s slamming truck door ruined the moment, you swore you saw Tyler begin to lean in too.

Were you just seeing what your smitten heart wanted to see? 

The more you thought about it, the more you realized Dani was right. You needed to know for sure how Tyler felt before your feelings for him grew any stronger. If he was just being nice and that was all, that was fine. You were supposed to be here to get revenge on Scott, not to fall in love. So if that was the case, you would stuff down these developing feelings and try your best to forget them. But if Tyler really did feel this same magnetic pull that you did, well…that would be great to know too.

Part 5 coming 9/9!