summary: someone keeps texting you…but you can’t see their number. every message comes from an ‘unknown’ sender, and no matter how many times you block them, they always manage to text you from other numbers which also comes from ‘unknown’ senders. who is this mysterious person texting you?
??: try to find who is texting you.
!!: cursing, toxic themes, everyone is in 3rd year
WARNING BEFORE READING SO THINGS DON’T GET MIXED UP AND WEIRD. WHEN TEXTING OUTSIDE OF HENRY, YOU ARE HIS SISTER. WHEN TEXTING HENRY, YOURE NOOOOTTTTT HIS SISTER. NOT. NADA. THINK OF IT LIKE THIS “Victor + Henry sister.” “Henry + NOT SISTER Random girl.” GOT IT? AND IN THE GROUP SMAU, SHE IS NOT HIS SISTER EITHER.
Anyway! Enjoy! Also it’s not letting me use my borders for some reason
written by mina leigh 𝜗᭪ , losers club 𝔁 f! reader | wc 2300
summary. spending time the your bestest friends in the world, in ben’s surprise hideout for the losers club. a stronger bond flourishing inside!
labels. feminine reader, happy go lucky girl, shy cute girly girl reader, no definite description of reader, she/her pronouns used, reader is closer to richie toizer & eddie kaspbrak.
‧₊˚ ୨୧ mina speaks. hey everyone! i was rewatching it 2019 and me being the self indulgent person i am, i started fantasizing about us (readers) being with the losers! lots of love.
summer days in derry had a special kind of magic, one that was even stronger when you spent them with the losers club. today, ben had promised a surprise, and you couldn’t wait to see what he had in store. the air was thick with excitement as you all made your way through the woods, your heart fluttering with anticipation.
❝ are we there yet? ❞ richie’s voice rang out, filled with mock impatience. you were walking beside him, as usual, and his playful energy was contagious. you couldn’t help but smile.
❝ yeah, ben, how much further? ❞ eddie added, swatting away a mosquito with a grimace. you could tell eddie was getting antsy, but his curiosity kept him moving forward. you gave him a reassuring smile, hoping to ease his nerves. richie noticed and nudged you with his elbow, his grin wide.
❝ you know, eds, (y/n) here could probably carry you if you get too tired, ❞ richie teased, earning a light smack on the arm from eddie.
❝ shut up, richie, ❞ eddie muttered, but you could see the corners of his mouth twitching as he tried to hide a smile. you laughed softly, loving the way they always managed to make you feel at ease, even when they were bickering.
finally, ben stopped in front of a large thicket, and your curiosity peaked. he pushed aside some branches, revealing a hidden entrance. ❝ here it is, ❞ your eyes widened as you stepped through the opening. inside was a large, cozy space, bigger than you’d expected. there were shelves full of books, soft blankets, and a huge hammock strung up in one corner, large enough for several people. the place felt like a secret clubhouse, one that was just for you and your friends.
❝ ben, this is amazing! ❞ you exclaimed, your voice filled with awe. you turned to look at him, and he blushed slightly, clearly pleased with your reaction.
❝ yeah, ben, this is awesome, ❞ mike added, already exploring the different corners of the hideout. ❝ you really outdid yourself. ❞
❝ i thought it would be nice to have a place just for us, ❞ ben said, his voice warm with affection. ❝ a place where we can hang out and just be ourselves. ❞
richie immediately made a beeline for the hammock, his eyes lighting up with excitement. ❝ dibs on the hammock! ❞ he shouted, flopping down onto it with a dramatic sigh of contentment. you laughed and followed him over, sitting down on the edge of the hammock.
❝ you’re such an ass, ❞ eddie grumbled, but he couldn’t resist joining you both. he climbed onto the hammock, settling in beside you with a huff. you found yourself sandwiched between richie and eddie, feeling the gentle sway of the hammock as they playfully jostled each other.
❝ careful, you’re gonna tip us over, ❞ you warned, your voice filled with laughter. richie just grinned at you, his arm draping casually around your shoulders.
❝ don’t worry, (y/n), i’ve got you, ❞ he said, his tone teasing but affectionate. you leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. on your other side, eddie was muttering under his breath about how richie was being annoying, but you could tell he was just as happy to be there.
as you lay there, the three of you fell into a comfortable rhythm. richie and eddie kept up their usual banter, tossing playful insults back and forth while you relaxed between them. their voices became a soothing background noise, and you found your eyelids growing heavy as the hammock rocked gently beneath you.
❝ hey, richie, do you ever shut up? ❞ eddie grumbled, though there was no real bite to his words. he was more focused on making sure you were comfortable, adjusting a blanket around you with a careful hand.
❝ only when i’m asleep, eds, ❞ richie shot back, his grin widening as he caught your eye. ❝ and even then, i’m sure i’m the most entertaining sleeper around. ❞
❝ if you say so, ❞ eddie muttered, but you could see the fondness in his eyes as he looked at you. ❝ (y/n), how do you put up with him? ❞ with an exaggerated sigh.
you just smiled, feeling the warmth of their friendship surrounding you like a protective shield. ❝ i guess i’m just lucky, ❞ you replied softly, your voice filled with contentment.
eventually, the steady rhythm of their voices and the gentle sway of the hammock lulled you into a peaceful nap. richie’s arm was still draped over your shoulders, and eddie’s presence beside you was a comforting anchor. as you drifted off to sleep, you felt completely safe, knowing that your best friends were right there with you.
when you woke up, the sun had shifted, casting a warm, golden light through the small windows of the hideout. you blinked sleepily, realizing that richie and eddie had fallen asleep too, their heads resting against yours. the hammock was still gently swaying, and for a moment, you just enjoyed the quiet peace of the moment.
after a while, you carefully extricated yourself from the hammock, trying not to wake richie and eddie. they both stirred slightly but didn’t wake up, so you quietly tiptoed away, leaving them to their nap. as you looked around the hideout, you noticed bill, stan, and mike sitting together on a pile of blankets, engrossed in their books.
❝ h-hey, (y/n), want to j-j-join us? ❞ bill asked, glancing up from his book with a welcoming smile. you nodded, making your way over to them. you sat down beside stan, who gave you a small, shy smile as he handed you one of the books from the shelf.
❝ thank you, stan, ❞ you said softly, returning his smile. he nodded, his eyes already back on his book.
you opened the book and quickly became absorbed in the story, losing yourself in the world of words. the four of you read in companionable silence, the only sounds being the rustle of pages turning and the occasional soft murmur as one of you reacted to something in the story.
after a while, you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder. looking up, you saw beverly smiling down at you. ❝ hey, (y/n), can i steal you for a bit? ❞ she asked, her voice warm.
❝ okay, ❞ you replied, closing your book and setting it aside. you stood up and followed bev over to where ben was working on some project with a hammer and nails.
❝ we could use some extra hands, ❞ bev said, handing you a hammer. ❝ ben’s been teaching me how to build stuff, and i thought you might want to join in. ❞
you smiled, feeling a surge of gratitude for beverly’s thoughtfulness. ❝ i’d love to help, ❞ you said, taking the hammer and kneeling down beside ben.
❝ thanks, (y/n), ❞ ben said, giving you a grateful smile. ❝ we’re just reinforcing some of the shelves and adding a few more. it’s a lot of work, but it’s worth it. ❞
❝ definitely, ❞ you agreed, already feeling a sense of accomplishment as you began hammering nails into place. as you worked, bev chatted with you about all sorts of things—clothes, movies, and boys. it was nice to have some girl time, and you found yourself opening up to her in a way you hadn’t before.
❝ you know, (y/n), ❞ bev said, her voice turning a bit more serious, ❝ i’m really glad you’re part of the losers club. you bring something special to the group, and i just want you to know that you’re really important to all of us. ❞
you felt your cheeks flush with warmth at her words, and you looked down at the hammer in your hands, suddenly feeling a bit shy. ❝ thanks, beverly, you said softly. ❝ that means a lot. ❞
she smiled at you, her eyes filled with kindness. ❝ it’s true. don’t ever doubt it, okay? ❞
you nodded, feeling a swell of affection for your friend. as the two of you continued working, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for the bond you shared with the losers club. they were more than just friends—they were family, and you knew that no matter what, you’d always have each other’s backs.
after finishing up with the shelves, you and bev stepped back to admire your work. ❝ not bad, ❞ ben said, clearly pleased with the results. ❝ this place is really coming together. ❞
❝ it really is, ❞ you agreed, feeling a sense of pride in what you’d accomplished. ❝ i’m glad i could help. ❞
❝ you did great, ❞ bev said, giving you a friendly nudge. ❝ now, how about we take a break? i think we’ve earned it. ❞
you nodded, feeling a bit tired but happy. as you made your way back to the main area of the hideout, you noticed that richie and eddie had finally woken up and were now bickering playfully as usual.
❝ hey, sleepyheads, ❞ you called out, giggling as you approached them. ❝ have a nice nap? ❞
❝ the best, ❞ richie replied with a wink, stretching his arms above his head. ❝ but we missed you, (y/n). it’s not the same without our favorite girl around. ❞
❝ yeah, we woke up and you were gone, ❞ eddie added, his voice mock-petulant. ❝ don’t do that again. ❞
you laughed, feeling the warmth of their affection wrap around you like a cozy blanket. ❝ don’t worry, i’m not going anywhere. ❞
the rest of the day passed in a blur of laughter, stories, and moments that you knew you’d treasure forever. by the time the sun began to set, casting a warm golden light over the hideout, you felt completely at peace.
as you all gathered together in the hideout, huddled close on the blankets and bean bags, you couldn’t help but marvel at how lucky you were. the losers club wasn’t just a group of friends—they were your home, your family, your safe haven in a world that could be so full of darkness.
and as you sat there, surrounded by the people who meant the most to you, you knew that no matter what the future held, you’d always stick by their side as much as they stuck to yours.
You were never really the kind of kid who fit in. Smart, stubborn, and a little fearless, people called you weird but to the Losers, you were perfect. The first time you met Bill, Richie, Bev, Eddie, Ben, Stan, and Mike, it was in the sewers behind the library. You were following a trail of missing pets, curious like the rest of them, when you stumbled upon Richie cracking jokes to keep everyone’s nerves at bay.
“You’re new,” Bill said, sizing you up.
“And annoying enough to hang out with,” Richie added with a grin.
You rolled your eyes but smiled. That was the moment you knew you belonged.
Over the weeks, the Losers’ Club became your family. You shared secrets under the big oak tree, dared each other to climb insane heights, and laughed at Richie’s bad jokes until your stomach hurt. But when Pennywise started to creep into your dreams and the streets of Derry became unsafe, the bond grew stronger.
You were there the first time they encountered the town's hidden evil. You didn’t scream. You didn’t run. You held Beverly’s hand when she froze, and Eddie’s arm when his nerves got the better of him. You became the quiet strength, the one who reminded them to breathe, to fight, to keep each other alive.
When the clown finally showed his true form, you were the first to step forward, daring him to try and scare you. Pennywise laughed, but your defiance rattled him. The Losers followed your lead, their fear turning to courage.
After it was over, the world seemed a little less scary. You sat in the sewers, covered in mud and sweat, laughing with your friends. Derry might always have its shadows, but you knew you had each other. You weren’t just part of the Losers’ Club you were the heart of it.
Note: For more content, follow me on https://www.tumblr.com/sammyquarius
𑣲 bf!richie who knew you long before you guys started talking. you were in the arcade every friday afternoon, looking pretty, so it was impossible for him to miss you.
𑣲 bf!richie who awkwardly came up to you as you focused on the game, standing next to you watching you play. “you’re better than I thought, still losing though.”
𑣲 bf!richie who acted nonchalant when beverly introduced you to the group, not even making eye contact, yet screaming on the inside.
𑣲 bf!richie who would pick on eddie just because you were watching, glancing in your direction just to see a smile. and you’d laugh, that’s all he wanted!
𑣲 bf!richie who nervously asked you out; “hey, uh… this is gonna sound dumb, but do you wanna hang out? like… on purpose. with me.”
𑣲 bf!richie who froze the very first moment your lips brushed his. “wow. okay. cool. yeah. that.. yeah.”
𑣲 bf!richie who made painfully obvious the fact you two were dating. following you around, wrapping his arm around your waist, resting his head on the crook of your neck as he hugged you from behind.
𑣲 bf!richie who would be too scared to touch you. asking for permission as he cuddled up with you in his bed. “is this okay? yeah? cool. heh”
𑣲 bf!richie who gets weirdly serious when you compliment him, says “shut up” automatically, then five minutes later brings it up again like, “you really meant that?”
𑣲 bf!richie who makes fun of your music taste, secretly memorizes your favorite song, and plays it ironically when you’re sad.
𑣲 bf!richie who gets quiet when you rest your head on his chest, barely jokes, just runs his fingers through your hair like he doesn’t want to mess it up.
𑣲 bf!richie who kisses you goodnight, then immediately adds “okay but one more”
𑣲 bf!richie who insists you sit between him and eddie because “for safety reasons” and refuses to elaborate.
𑣲 bf!richie who notices when you go quiet in the group and nudges you gently with his knee, murmuring “you good?” without making it a thing
𑣲 bf!richie who lets bev teases him about you relentlessly, blushes hard, denies everything, then brags about you the second she leaves the room.
𑣲 bf!richie who walks you home with half the losers trailing behind, still somehow making it feel like it’s just the two of you.
Richie Tozier was an epic dick, everyone knew that. With his inappropriate comments, his loud behavior, and his thick glasses that he judged everyone through.
And one of those people just so happened to be you, well until recently.
You’ve reached the age where your all maturing, mentally and definitely physically. Being apart of the losers club since you were 7 meant the guys always saw you like them. They didn’t look at you like you were a real girl.
Until recently, you were gone for a few months visiting family across the country and when you came back you definitely had some changes-you were taller, your hair was longer, you just looked more mature more like a woman.
It’s safe to say the losers noticed this change too, especially Richie.
“Woah, what the fuck happend to you?” Richie said looking at you.
It was comments like that, that got you. Richie Tozier was so fucking annoying. “What do you mean?” You said picking up your bike walking side by side. You had acidently ran into him on the way to Bills house.
“I dunno you just look, uh. Different?” He almost sounded shy, “different bad?”
“Definitely not bad.” He said a little too quick, his gaze tracked your movement, staring at you up and down was he-checking you out?
“Watch your eyes Richie,” you push him slightly.
A/N: drabble, maybe I can post a full fic like this if u like it. Not proof read! Send me more recs with a good plot!!
tw mean mike, smut, dubcon & mike being a brat as always 😊
masterlist & reblogs appreciated!
the van gives out with one last cough and a shudder before steve swerves onto the shoulder of the freeway.
“no. no, no, no, no! don’t do this to me,” steve groans, smacking the steering wheel.
“is it supposed to smell like that?” dustin asks from the back, already half out of his seatbelt.
a sharp burn of hot oil and exhaust blew straight through the dashboard vents thick enough that everyone’s coughing and waving their hands in front of their faces. yep, the van’s engine was toast.
“steve, i told you that noise earlier sounded bad!” lucas pinched his nose, exclaiming.
“you say everything sounds bad, sinclair!” steve snaps, then sighs, running a hand through his hair. “okay. okay. emergency stop. calm down guys. everyone just… relax.” he hops out of the vehicle and pops the hood.
the party collectively lets out a huge groan.
relax? you couldn’t bring yourself to relax. you’d spent most of the drive wedged between will and el, sweaty and cramped, trying to ignore mike’s knee that’s been digging into your back for the last forty minutes. you didn’t realize you were muttering to yourself until someone snapped you out of your thoughts.
“is the princess gonna be able to survive one night without air conditioning?” you hear mike snicker behind you, as the rest of the group piled out of the car.
you turn around to glare at him.
he flashes you an annoying grin, to which you flip your head right back to follow everyone out with mike right behind you. he’s met with the flick of your ponytail across his face. he quickly wraps his fingers around your ponytail and yanks hard.
max however, catches it. knowing how mike is, she catches your eye and raises her eyebrows at you.
mike's been worse than usual this whole trip. being an asshole to you, only you. and you really tried your hardest not to let it get under your skin.
by the time steve drags everyone into a roadside motel with a giant VACANCY sign buzzing overhead, tensions are already shot. the lobby smells of bleach. mike pushes his way to the front of the group to stand next to steve, shoving you hard in the process causing you to stumble forward and drop the granola bar in your hand onto the sticky motel floor. you don’t look back at him.
“two rooms,” steve says to the clerk, slapping a 20 dollar bill on the counter. “yeah, yeah i know it’s a squeeze. it’s fine, trust me. we’ll make it work.”
“yeah, right,” lucas mutters under his breath, lugging both his and max’s bags across the floor and up the staircase.
you guys arrive at your room and steve quickly begins assigning the sleeping arrangements.
“henderson, you’ll share the single with lucas,” steve points.
“will, el, you two get the pullout.”
“max, you’re good on the floor?” max shrugs, “i’ve slept worse places.” she throws a pile of comforters and throw pillows on the ground, considering it a win.
then steve takes a good long, hard look at you and mike. there’s a pause. he smiles.
“…you two don’t mind sharing, right?” he says finally. “you guys are civil.”
dustin lets out a loud snort from behind you guys, and mike whips his head around to stare him down.
“steve,” you start.
“it’s one night,” he cuts in. “the doors stay open, nobody murders anyone. okay?,” he throws his hands up in the air, walking away. “my job here is done.”
later, while everyone’s brushing their teeth with motel sink water that tastes wrong, max corners you by the ice machine.
“you know he does it on purpose, right?” she says quietly, “he thinks you’re an easy target.”
“i know,” you sigh. growing up, you never really had the natural tendency to stick up for yourself. your parents had always told you to walk away if you ever found yourself in the presence of a bully. unlike max, who went head-to-head with any boy in the group who dared cross her.
“and you’re still stuck sharing a bed with him.”
“i know.”
she squeezes your wrist. “if he pulls your hair again, kick him. i’ll back you up.”
lucas, overhearing, adds, “yeah, man, wheelers are like raccoons. you just gotta learn to assert dominance.”
mike jerks his head up from the couch across the room, “you know i can hear you guys.”
and now, it’s the middle of the night.
the lights are off. the room is quiet except for the hum of the ancient ac unit. you're both on your backs, as far apart as the bed allows, staring at the ceiling. you're in an t shirt and shorts. he's in just boxers because he "runs hot" and didn't bring anything else. there's maybe six inches of space between you, but it feels like static electricity.
"stop fucking hogging the blanket," mike pulls the comforter back sharply from underneath you, jerking you out of your thoughts.
"i'm not? you literally kicked it off,"
"whatever," he mutters. "just stay on your side, wouldn't want to accidentally touch you and catch whatever makes girls so dramatic."
how could someone possibly be this fucking childish? you tried to reason, and why out of everyone did you have to be paired with him? you think to yourself as you huff and turn your body to face the wall. silence stretches. then the mattress dips. he shifts closer, whether on purpose or not, you're not sure. his arm brushes yours.
“what..” he notices you freeze, "you're scared i'll bite?" he whispers, his tone mocking.
"shut up, mike," you retort, you silently thank god it was pitch black in the room, you were so flustered, your cheeks resembled a pair of cluster tomatoes. mike wouldn’t ever let you live it down if he could see how red you were.
he doesn't turn back. instead, he moves again. it's deliberate this time, until his chest is almost against your back. you can feel the heat coming off him.
"you've been running your mouth all weekend, acting like you're better than me all the time, than everyone!” he says, “but here you are, stuck in bed with me. funny how that works."
“i have no clue what you’re talking about.”
his hand lands on your hip, and his fingers curl over the fabric of your shorts.
it's not gentle. it feels like a claim.
"mike," you say, your voice tight, "mike, get off of me,"
"mmm.. how about.. no," he states with a chuckle right by your ear.
he pulls you back against him hard. you can feel the outline of his length, pressing into your ass through the thin layers of cotton. your breath catches.
"see? you don’t really want me to get off you, do you? you like this,” his hand inching closer and now hovering over the waistband of your shorts, “you know… i bet if i stick my hand down your pants right now, it’d come out soaking.”
he slides his hand up under your shirt. his rough palm drags over your stomach, up to cup your breast. he squeezes once, meanly.
"wow,” he scoffs, “no bra?”
you hate how your back arches into his touch. this was getting out of hand, you thought. you flip onto your other side in an attempt to grab his wrists and push him off. but mike beats you to it.
he flips you back onto your back, grabs your wrist and holds it above your head. his eyes glint with that same cruel smirk you've seen all week.
"open your mouth,"
"what? you can’t make me-," you whisper defiant, struggling to get out of his grip. what in the world has gotten into him?
his hand shoots up, his fingers gripping your jaw. it's not hard enough to bruise, but it's firm. he forces your lips apart with his thumb.
"i said open," he says even louder.
you do. just enough to get him to quiet down.
he leans down and lets a slow string of spit fall from his mouth into yours. you feel it hit your tongue. it's warm and humiliating. he watches your face the whole time.
"swallow," he commands.
you hesitate for half a second. then you do.
his grin is pure filth.
"awww," he mocks the pout on your face. "see? it's not so hard to follow instructions, is it?”
he kisses you then. starting as a peck on your lips, and then he forces his tongue into your mouth. his wet open mouthed kisses muffling your gasps. meanwhile, his hand slides down between your legs, pushing your flimsy shorts aside without ceremony. he finds a wet spot on your frilly pink panties.
"you are so pathetic, you know that?" he sneers, pulling back just enough.
he finds your entrance and inserts two fingers inside you agonizingly slow. you gasp into his mouth. he curls his fingers cruelly, pushing in slow to hit the spot.
"shhhhhhh," he whispers.
you bite your lip to keep quiet as he works you open, his thumb grinding against your clit. when he pulls his fingers out, he wipes them across your cheek like a dirty napkin.
then he's yanking your shorts down your thighs and shoving his boxers off. he lines himself up and pushes in with one long, brutal thrust that makes your eyes water.
“c’mon princess biiiiiig stretch,” he slowly sinks into you, and it makes an embarrassingly loud squelching noise, “ohhhh yeah,”
your lips that were perched shut the entire time as to not make any noise, come undone without your permission, “aaaagh- mikey!”
“mikey!” he replies mimicking you, and starts pounding into you. plop plop plop. his sack slapping meanly against your clit over & over. normally, you would be embarrassed. but right now, you can’t really process much feelings but the one of him stretching you out down there. you feel your arousal drooling onto his thighs.
"ohhhh my gosh," he groans low at the feeling, and proceeds to shove your head into the mattress, not really concerned whether or not you can breathe okay, "just ugh- take it and shut the fuck up nnngh- stop making noise."
he sets a punishing pace, his pelvis snapping against yours. the bed creaks quietly under you both. one hand grips the back of your neck, just holding you down, so your face stays smushed into the pillow.
"look at you," he says. "bet no one else has ever put you in your place like this."
you're close, embarrassingly fast, and he knows it. “oh my gosh, you’re really enjoying this, huh?”he laughs. mike slows his pace down just to torture you.
"aww" he mockingly pouts. "you wanna come puppy?"
you press your lips together hard in an attempt to not make any noise, not giving in to what he wants.
he removes his hand from the nape of your neck and presses all of his body weight down onto you. forcing you into prone bone, pressing your bodies together hard. and you feel his palm harshly crack down on your butt.
"aaaaagh oh-ohmygoshohmygosh plEASE mike please," you whisper, broken.
"please what?" he says.
"please…. let me com-,"
he meanly pushes your face hard into the pillow again mid-sentence with his palm and laughs.
"come on then," he says. "come on mikey’s cock.”
you do. it hits you hard, and you bite down on your own arm to stay quiet. he follows right after, burying himself deep and groaning your name like a curse against your neck.
after, he doesn't pull out right away. he just stays on top of you, heavy and breathing hard. his hand loosens up off the back of your neck and rolls off you, shifting back to the far edge of the bed like nothing happened. the room falls into heavy silence, broken only by your ragged breathing.
your thighs feel sticky, warm and messy from everything, the evidence of what just happened cooling uncomfortably against your skin. he doesn’t make any move to help, doesn’t even acknowledge it, just lies there on his back, staring at the ceiling.
“you know…” his voice cuts through the quiet, “you’re kind of cute with you’re all fucked out like that.”
you blink in the darkness, taken aback by the almost gentle tone. “did you… like it?” mike asks, even quieter.
you’re still catching your breath, heart hammering, surprised he’d even ask. “yeah,” you looked down shyly, “kinda.”
he snickers right in your face, “yeah, i figured… since you were being so goddam loud.”
before you can respond, his foot shoves against your side, kicking you toward the edge of the bed. “go clean yourself up. you’re dirty.”
you tumble off the mattress with a thud onto the carpet, pulling your cotton shorts back up as you stumble off to the bathroom.
Summary: You trust Tyler when he brings you to the basement. He says it’s about learning, about understanding the part of him that exists down there. First he shows you what fight club really is, then he takes you home and shows you what it means to belong to him.
Warnings: SMUT 18+ dom!tyler, kinda exhibitionism vibes, size kink, Tyler is smug about it, you get initiated twice, a very rough basement, p in v sex, unprotected sex, praise/degradation combo, rough sex, canon typical violence/gore.
A/N: Hey gang so im back and my drafts have another 2 fics in progess so dw i gotchu, also in this the reader is described as 5'3-5'5, the size kink is like a big focus so yeah, srry if its not as unbiased as usual lol <3
MASTERLIST - REQUESTS - WC: 4.3k
"Watch your step," Tyler says without looking back, his leather jacket catching the dim light from the single bulb overhead. "Wouldn't want you breaking an ankle before the fun even starts."
You roll your eyes, even though you know he can't see it. "I can handle stairs, Tyler."
"Can you?" He glances over his shoulder, that infuriating smirk playing at his lips. "You're what, five-three? Five-four on a good day?"
"Five-five," you insist, knowing it's pointless.
The basement opens up into a larger space than you expected. Exposed pipes run along the ceiling, and the walls are bare concrete, water-stained and crumbling in places.
It's definitely not stable.
There are maybe twenty guys down here, most of them shirtless, all of them sporting various stages of bruising. A circle has formed in the centre where two men are currently pummelling each other with an enthusiasm that seems almost religious.
Tyler's hand finds the small of your back, guiding you to the edge of the crowd. His palm is warm through your shirt, possessive. Several heads turn as you enter, the only woman in a sea of testosterone and violence.
Tyler's presence beside you makes them look away just as quickly.
"So this is it," you say, trying to sound unimpressed even as your heart kicks up a notch. "Fight Club."
"This is it." Tyler leans down, his breath hot against your ear. "What do you think?"
You flinch as one fighter lands a solid hit to the other's jaw, the crack audible even over the shouting. The recipient staggers but doesn't go down, coming back with a wild haymaker that connects with his opponent's ribs. There's something primal about it, something that makes your pulse quicken in a way you don't entirely understand.
"It's..." you search for the right word. "Intense."
Tyler laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest. "That's one word for it."
A man you recognise from the restaurant, Bob, you think his name is, approaches with a nod. He's massive, easily six-four and built like he used to be a bodybuilder.
"Tyler," Bob says, then glances at you with something like curiosity. "Didn't know we were having visitors tonight."
"She's not a visitor," Tyler says, his hand sliding from your back to your hip, pulling you closer against his side. "She's with me."
The possessiveness in his voice sends a shiver down your spine, and you're so very aware of how you fit against him, the top of your head barely reaching his shoulder.
You're absolutely dwarfed by him.
Bob nods slowly, then returns his attention to Tyler. "You fighting tonight?"
"Maybe." Tyler's fingers drum against your hip bone. "Depends."
As Bob moves away, you turn to look up at Tyler. He's watching the current fight with that focused intensity he gets sometimes, his jaw set, a small smile playing at his lips. There's a bruise fading on his cheekbone; purple-yellow now, a few days old. You'd asked about it earlier in the week and he'd deflected with a joke.
"So this is what you do," you say. "When you're not making soap or working at the theater."
"This is what I do." He looks down at you, and there's something challenging in his gaze.
"Problem?"
"No problem."
You turn back to watch the fight, very aware of his hand still on your hip, his thumb now tracing small circles through the fabric of your jeans. "I just didn't picture it like this."
"What did you picture?"
"I don't know. Something more... organised? With rules?"
Tyler laughs again, sharper this time. "There are rules. First rule is you don't talk about Fight Club. Second rule is you don't talk about Fight Club. Third rule-"
"Someone yells stop, goes limp, taps out, the fight is over," you finish, surprising him. "You talk in your sleep sometimes."
His eyebrows raise. "Do I?"
"Mmhmm." You lean into him slightly, enjoying the way his body heat seeps through your clothes. "You also said something about no shirts, no shoes."
"Fourth rule," he confirms. "And fifth rule, one fight at a time."
The current fight ends with one man on his back, breathing hard, the other standing over him with blood dripping from his nose. They help each other up, and there's something almost tender about it, the way they grip forearms, the way they're both grinning despite the obvious, painful damage.
"Sixth rule," Tyler continues, his voice dropping lower, "fights go on as long as they have to."
"And seventh?"
"If this is your first night at Fight Club, you have to fight."
You look up at him sharply. "I'm not fighting one of these guys."
"No," Tyler agrees, and there's something wicked in his smile now. "You're not."
Before you can ask what he means, he's pulling you through the crowd toward a clearer space near the back of the basement. The concrete floor here is stained with old blood and God knows what else. Tyler shrugs off his leather jacket, tossing it onto a nearby crate, then turns to face you.
"What are you doing?" you ask, even though you're starting to suspect.
"You wanted to see what I do." He pulls his shirt over his head in one smooth motion, revealing the lean muscle of his torso, the scars you've traced with your fingers in the dark. "So I'm going to show you."
Your mouth goes dry. "Tyler-"
"Come on." He beckons you forward with one hand, that infuriating smirk back in full force. "Or are you scared?"
It's the challenge in his voice that does it, the way he's looking at you like he knows exactly which buttons to push. You've never been able to resist when he gets like this, so cocky and playful and just arrogant enough to make you want to prove him wrong.
"I'm not scared," you say, pulling off your own jacket.
"No?" He circles you slowly, and you're suddenly very aware of every eye in the basement on you both. "You should be. You know how much bigger I am than you?"
"I've noticed," you say dryly.
"Have you?" He stops in front of you, close enough that you have to tilt your head back to meet his eyes. "Because from where I'm standing, you look like I could pick you up with one hand."
"You probably could," you admit. "Doesn't mean you should."
His grin widens. "Doesn't mean I shouldn't."
The air between you crackles with tension, every kind of tension.
You can feel your heart pounding, adrenaline starting to flood your system. This is insane. You've never done anything like this before. But Tyler's looking at you like you're the only person in the room, and there's something intoxicating about that.
"So how does this work?" you ask, trying to sound more confident than you feel.
"Simple." Tyler rolls his shoulders, loosening up. "You try to take me down. I try not to let you."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
He pauses. "Though I should warn you, I don't plan on making it too easy for ya."
"I wouldn't want you to."
The words are barely out of your mouth before he moves. Not attacking, exactly, but closing the distance between you in a way that makes you step back instinctively. He follows, matching your movements, herding you like a predator playing with prey.
"First lesson," he says, his voice taking on that teaching tone he uses sometimes. "Size matters. Reach matters. Weight matters. I've got at least sixty pounds on you, probably more."
"Thanks for the reminder," you mutter, looking for an opening.
"Plus I'm, what, eight inches taller?" He's enjoying this too much. "Nine?"
"Seven," you correct. "Stop gloating."
"I'm not gloating. I'm stating facts." He feints left and you flinch right, exactly as he predicted. "See? You're already reacting to me. That's good. Shows you've got instincts."
You dart forward, trying to catch him off-guard, but he sidesteps easily. His hand catches your wrist as you pass, spinning you around so your back is against his chest, his arm wrapped loosely around your waist.
"Too predictable," he murmurs against your ear. "You telegraphed that move from a mile away."
You can feel every inch of him pressed against your back; the hard planes of his chest, the strength in the arm holding you. Your pulse is racing now, and not only from exertion.
"Let go," you say, trying to sound annoyed rather than breathless.
"Make me."
You stomp down hard on his instep, but he's already moving, releasing you and stepping back before you can connect. You whirl to face him, and he's grinning like this is the most fun he's had all week.
"Better," he says. "But you're going to have to be faster than that."
You circle each other, and you're hyperaware of the size difference now. Tyler moves with the easy confidence of someone who knows exactly what his body can do. "Come on," he taunts. "I thought you wanted to see what I do. This is what I do. I fight. I win."
The arrogance in his voice sparks something competitive in you.
Then his hands are on your hips, lifting you like you weigh nothing. Your feet leave the ground and suddenly you're eye-level with him, suspended in his grip.
"See what I mean about the one-hand thing?"
"Tyler-"
"You're so fucking small," he says, and there's something heated in his voice now, something that has nothing to do with fighting. "I could just-"
He shifts his grip, one arm banding around your waist, holding you against him. You can feel the heat of his skin through your shirt, the way his muscles flex as he supports your weight effortlessly.
"Put me down," you say, but it comes out weaker than you intended.
"Why?" His free hand comes up to cup your jaw, tilting your face toward his. "I like you like this. Eye to eye for once."
Your legs are dangling, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance. This close, you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes, the small scar above his eyebrow, the way his pupils are dilated.
"This isn't fighting," you manage.
"Isn't it?" His thumb traces your lower lip. "Feels like fighting to me. You're just losing."
The words send a jolt of heat straight through you. You're very aware of the crowd not too far away, the way some of them are still watching, but Tyler's gaze holds you captive.
"I'm not losing," you say. "You're cheating."
"How am I cheating?"
"You're-" You struggle to articulate it. "You're bigger than me."
"That's not cheating, baby." He lowers you slowly, letting your body slide against his until your feet touch the ground again. But he doesn't let go, keeping you pinned against him with one arm while his other hand tangles in your hair. "And you like it."
"I don't-"
"You do."
He tugs gently on your hair, making you gasp. "I can feel your heart racing. See the way you're looking at me."
He's right, damn him.
Your whole body is thrumming with tension. You can feel the evidence of his own arousal pressing against your hip, and the knowledge that he's just as affected as you are makes your heart beat just a little faster.
"Maybe I'm just getting started," you say, and hook your leg behind his knee, using his momentary distraction to throw him off-balance.
It works, sort of.
He staggers, and you manage to twist out of his grip, putting some distance between you. But he recovers quickly, that predatory grin back on his face.
"There she is," he says approvingly. "I was wondering when you'd stop playing nice."
You don't give him time to prepare, launching yourself at him again. This time you're faster, your arm wraps around his neck from behind, and for a moment you think you might actually have him.
Then he reaches back, his hand finding your thigh, and lifts. Suddenly you're on his back, clinging to him like a koala while he laughs.
"What are you going to do now?" he asks, spinning in a circle that makes you tighten your grip. "You're like a backpack. A really small, really stubborn backpack."
"Shut up," you mutter against his shoulder, but you're fighting a smile now.
He reaches back with both hands, gripping your thighs, and you realise what he's about to do a second before he does it.
He pulls you forward, flipping you over his shoulder so you land on your back on the concrete, except his hand is behind your head, cushioning the impact, and he follows you down, covering your body with his.
The breath leaves your lungs in a rush, but not from pain.
Tyler's settled between your thighs, his weight pressing you into the floor, his hands pinning your wrists above your head. His face is inches from yours, and you can feel every hard inch of him against you.
"I win," he says softly.
The basement has gone quiet around you. You're dimly aware of the other men watching, but all you can focus on is Tyler, the heat of his body, the way his chest rises and falls with each breath, the intensity in his eyes.
"Best two out of three?" you try, but your voice comes out husky.
His grin is sharp. "You want to go again?"
"Maybe."
"Liar." He shifts his hips, grinding against you deliberately, and you bite back a moan.
"You want something else entirely."
Your face flushes hot. "Tyler-"
"It's okay." He leans down, his lips brushing your ear. "I want it too. Have since the moment you walked down those stairs in those tight jeans, acting like you weren't intimidated by any of this."
"I'm not intimidated," you insist, even as your body arches into his.
"No?" He releases one of your wrists to trail his hand down your side, his touch possessive. "Then why are you shaking?"
"I'm not-"
But you are. You can feel it now, the fine tremor running through your muscles. Adrenaline and arousal and something else, something that has everything to do with the way Tyler's looking at you like he wants to devour you.
"You did good," he says, and the praise in his voice makes you shiver. "Better than I expected. You're quick. Scrappy. But you're still-" His hand spans your waist, his fingers nearly meeting. "So fucking small compared to me."
"You keep saying that," you breathe.
"Because it's true. And because I like it." His hand slides lower, fingers dipping just beneath the waistband of your jeans. "Because I like knowing I could hold you down with one hand. Could pick you up and fuck you against the wall without breaking a sweat."
The crude words send heat pooling low in your belly. You're acutely aware of where you are, who's watching, but Tyler doesn't seem to care.
He's looking at you like you're the only person in the world.
"We should-" You swallow hard. "There are people-"
"Let them watch." But even as he says it, he's pulling back, sitting up and bringing you with him. His hands are gentle now as he helps you to your feet, steadying you when you wobble slightly.
Your legs feel like jelly. Your whole body is buzzing, wound tight with unfulfilled need. Tyler retrieves his shirt and jacket, then yours, handing them over with that knowing smirk.
"Come on," he says, his hand finding yours. "Let's get out of here."
The walk to Tyler's place is a blur. You're barely aware of the streets you're crossing, the late-night pedestrians you're passing. All you can focus on is Tyler's hand wrapped around yours, the way his thumb keeps stroking over your knuckles, the heat radiating from his body as he walks close enough that your shoulders brush.
"You're quiet," he observes, glancing down at you with that infuriating smirk.
"I'm thinking."
"About?"
"About whether I should've just stayed home tonight."
He laughs, the sound low and rich. "Liar. You're thinking about what I'm going to do to you."
He's right, of course. Your mind has been running wild with possibilities ever since he pinned you to that concrete floor. The weight of him, the strength in his hands, the way he looked at you like he wanted to devour you whole.
He leads you up the creaking stairs to his room, and the door has barely closed behind you before he's on you.
His mouth crashes against yours, hungry and demanding. You kiss him back with equal fervour, your hands fisting in his jacket as he walks you backwards toward the bed. When your legs hit the mattress, you expect him to push you down, but instead he breaks the kiss, breathing hard.
"Take off your shirt," he says.
You hesitate, just for a second, and his eyes flash with some kind of twisted amusement.
"That wasn't a request."
Something about the command in his voice makes your stomach flip. You reach for the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head. Tyler watches, his gaze tracking over every inch of exposed skin.
"Jeans too."
You unbutton them, sliding them down your hips and stepping out of them. Standing there in just your underwear while he's still fully dressed makes you feel exposed, but in the best way possible.
Tyler circles you slowly, like he's appraising you. "Look at you," he murmurs. "So fucking tiny. I could break you in half."
"You keep saying that," you manage, trying to keep your voice steady.
"Because it's true." He stops in front of you, reaching out to trace one finger along your collarbone. "Because it gets you hot. I can see it, the way your breath catches, the way your pupils dilate." His finger trails lower, between your breasts.
"You like knowing I'm bigger than you. Stronger."
"Maybe I just like you," you counter, reaching for his jacket.
He lets you push it off his shoulders, lets you work at the buttons of his shirt. But when you reach for his belt, his hand catches your wrist.
"Not yet." He guides you backward until you're sitting on the edge of the bed, then kneels in front of you. The position puts you almost at eye level, and there's something about it that makes your heart race even faster.
His hands slide up your thighs, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh. "You know what I kept thinking about down there? When I had you pinned?"
"What?"
"How easy it would be to spread these pretty legs." His hands push your thighs apart, settling himself between them. "How good you'd look underneath me."
You reach for him, fingers tangling in his hair as he leans in to kiss your stomach, your ribs, the underside of your breast. His mouth is hot against your skin, his teeth scraping lightly.
"Tyler-"
"Patience." He reaches behind you, unhooking your bra with practiced ease. It falls away and he makes a low sound of appreciation, his hands coming up to cup your breasts. They look enormous against your chest, his palms easily covering you completely.
"I still stand by the fact I could pick you up with one hand."
"Prove it," you challenge, his eyes lighting up.
In one smooth motion, he stands, his hands sliding under your ass as he lifts you effortlessly. You wrap your legs around his waist instinctively, your arms around his neck, and he holds you there like you weigh nothing at all.
"Believe me now?" He's grinning, cocky and pleased with himself.
"Show off," you mutter, but you're smiling too.
He carries you further onto the bed, laying you down and following you, his body covering yours. The weight is intoxicating, the way he presses you into the mattress, the way his hips fit so perfectly between your thighs.
"I like showing off for you," he admits, his mouth finding your neck.
His hand slides down your side, fingers hooking in the waistband of your underwear. He pulls them down slowly, teasingly, and you lift your hips to help. When you're finally naked beneath him, he sits back on his heels, just looking.
"Tyler come on-"
"Let me look at you." His hands run up your legs, over your hips, your waist. "Christ, you're so fucking perfect."
"Are you going to keep talking about it or are you going to do something about it?"
That gets you a sharp grin. "Mouthy little thing, aren't you?"
He stands long enough to strip off the rest of his clothes, and then he's back, settling between your legs. "Maybe I should teach you some respect."
"You could try."
He laughs, the sound turning into a groan as he grinds against you, the hard length of him sliding through your wetness. "Feel that? Feel how hard you make me?"
You do. You can feel every inch of him, hot and thick against you, and it makes you ache.
"Tyler, please-"
"Please what?" He does it again, the head of his cock catching against your clit and making you gasp. "Use your words."
"Please fuck me."
"That's better." He reaches between you, positioning himself, and then he's pushing inside, slow and steady and relentless.
The stretch is intense, almost too much, and you grab at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. He pauses, giving you time to adjust, his forehead pressed against yours.
"Okay?" His voice is strained, like it's taking everything in him to hold still.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay."
"Good." He pulls back slightly, then pushes deeper, and you both groan. "Fuck, you're tight. So fucking tight."
He starts to move, his hips pushing into yours with long, slow strokes that make you feel every inch of him. His hands are everywhere; gripping your hips, sliding up to cup your breasts, tangling in your hair.
He's surrounding you.
"Look at you," he murmurs, his eyes dark as he watches where you're joined. "Taking me so well. Such a good girl."
The praise makes you clench around him, and he groans, his hips stuttering.
"You like that? Like being good for me?"
"Yes," you gasp, your legs wrapping tighter around his waist.
He shifts the angle, hitting something inside you that makes you cry out, and his grin is pure satisfaction. "There it is. Right there, yeah?"
He does it again, and again, each thrust deliberate and precise. You're making sounds you've never made before, desperate little whimpers and moans that seem to spur him on.
"That's it," he encourages, one hand sliding down to grip your thigh, pulling your leg higher. "Let me hear you. Want everyone in this fucking neighbourhood to know who's making you feel this good."
The new angle lets him go deeper, and you can feel him everywhere, filling you completely. He's looking at you like you're something precious even as he fucks you into the mattress.
"Tyler-" Your hands scrabble at his back, trying to find purchase. "I can't-"
"Yes, you can." His thumb finds your clit, circling with just the right amount of pressure. "You can take it. You can take all of me."
The combination of his cock and his fingers is devastating. You can feel your orgasm building, coiling tight in your belly, and Tyler can feel it too. His rhythm becomes more urgent, more demanding.
"Come on," he urges, his voice rough. "Come for me. Want to feel you."
"Tyler-fuck-"
"That's it. Let go."
And you do.
Your orgasm crashes over you in waves, your whole body tensing and shaking beneath him. Tyler fucks you through it, his movements becoming erratic as your pussy clenches around him.
"Fuck," he grits out, and then he's coming too, his hips jerking as he spills inside you. He buries his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin, his body shuddering.
For a long moment, neither of you moves. You can feel his heart pounding against your chest, can feel the slight tremor in his muscles.
Slowly, carefully, he lifts his head to look at you.
"You okay?" There's genuine concern in his eyes now, the cocky facade dropped.
"Yeah." You reach up to brush his hair back from his forehead. "I'm good. Really good."
He grins, some of that trademark arrogance returning.
He pulls out carefully, rolling onto his side and pulling you with him. His arm wraps around your waist, tucking you against his chest.
"Still think you could take me in a fight?" he asks, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your hip.
"Absolutely not."
"Smart girl." He presses a kiss to your shoulder. "But I like that you tried."
You turn in his arms to face him, studying his face in the dim light. There's a bruise forming on his cheekbone from earlier, and you reach up to trace it gently.
"Does it hurt?"
"Not really." He catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. "Worth it anyway."
"The fight?"
"Bringing you. Showing you." His eyes are serious now. "I wanted you to understand."
You lie there in comfortable silence, your fingers tracing the scars and bruises that map his torso.
"Tyler?"
"Hmm?"
"Can I stay?" He smiles, kissing you, slow and sweet this time.
"You don't need to ask, sweeheart."
He settles back down, pulling the blanket over both of you, his arms secure around you. You close your eyes and let yourself drift, lulled by the steady rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his body against yours.
hope you enjoyed lovely people, as always likes/comments/reblogs are always appreciated, they really get me excited to write more:)
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