thinking about taking care of jack after a LOOONNGGG day. hes spent hours networking, chatting up crowds etc and all he wants to do is come home to his (controversially younger!) girlfriend and let her jerk him off as she asks about his day
disclaimer: this is a piece of fictional work. although based on real people, the characters—and circumstances—presented are entirely fictional and should be treated as such.
slight power dynamics; handjobs; pet names (honey and baby); clothed sex;
MDNI 18+
w/ JACK SCHLOSSBERG
you've always thought that jack looked pretty when he was all dolled up. when his hair was swept off of his clean-shaven face and his slim body perfectly filled up a suit that was tailored just for him. when he unlocked a part of himself that you rarely see, even though it's such a big part of who he is. jack's always pretty to you, even if he glares in the mirror and turns his head this way and that before an event, nonverbally expressing how jarring it still is to see himself like the ones who came before him.
you'll tell him he looks good—whether that be via the words coming out of your mouth, or a restrained kiss that worked to transfer as little makeup as possible. maybe a gentle press of your fingers into his shoulders, or wrapping your arm around his back. either way, it was always honest.
but you truthfully prefer jack when he's like this—leaning back against the bathroom counter, his hair fallen out of the swept back wave, curls visible thanks to the late-summer humidity as well as the heat swirling in the bathroom from the previously running shower. you'd shut it off once jack breathlessly complained about wasting water.
he was right, but you still appeared a little upset about having to stop your task to reach a hand into the water and turn the dial off. you were back on jack within the minute, though.
your hand wrapped around his cock, while you stared up at him attentively, smiling and nodding as if you weren't languidly jerking him off and you both were just having a regular conversation. he's keeping up well, only faltering every so often, usually whenever you twist your hand around his tip every few strokes.
but he recovers quickly, clearing his throat and blinking a few times before picking up where he left off.
"then i had the meeting with my editors after lunch..." he continues detailing the events of his day, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time, only drifting off to the side whenever he has to think about something.
you could've undressed him completely, you probably should have, but you like how he looks like this. his pants unbuttoned and shoved down just enough for you to reach into his briefs and tug his dick free. his white shirt—no longer as crisp as it was this morning when you kissed him goodbye—unbuttoned to give way to the thin undershirt he wears. it's been lifted up now by your irreverent hands, sitting towards the top half of his midriff. you have a perfect view of the hair leading down towards his cock, along with his abdomen which tenses and relaxes periodically.
"uh-huh," you nod, glancing down for just a second before bringing your attention right back up.
you're the one getting him off, but his gaze still makes you feel a little hot. the intensity in his dark eyes which are framed by shadows of long lashes. the prominent furrow of his brows when he hesitates, paired with the flicker of his tongue over his lips.
he's so pretty. you don't think you'll ever get tired of looking at him.
"i got a drink from that place we wanted to try." this snaps you out of your daze.
"what? without me?"
jack smiles a bit and your attention is briefly brought to the grooves along the side of his mouth. he speaks through a grin. "sorry, it was on the way!"
"you're a traitor."
"if it makes you feel any better the drink was really—" his words taper off into a moan. it's satisfying to see his eyes screw shut, his mouth falling open.
you would wait for him to continue, to either confirm your suspicions and tell you that the overpriced drink was the best thing he's ever had, or that it wasn't worth his money, but you can tell he's lost his train of thought.
one of his hands lift off of the counter and flail uselessly in the air for a second before it finds you, wrapping around your forearm and then drifting to gently cup your elbow.
"close. 'm close."
as if you needed him to tell you. you can tell, it's written all over him; from the way the center of his eyebrows reach for his hairline, to the way you can feel his dick throbbing in your hand.
the audible slick! gets louder as you increase your pace just enough, determination driving your movements. you keep going, trying to push him closer and closer, waiting for him to tell you what he wants.
his lips hang open, not a single word coming from them, and then he speaks. "talk to me. c'mon, honey. help me out."
you're quick with it. "you're so pretty, baby. i love it when you let me do this. i can feel you, y'know? can feel how bad you wanna come. go ahead. please? for me?"
it gets him every time.
he curves away from you at first, his head falling back, resting between his shoulder blades as the initial spurts of cum shoot out onto your hand. and then he slumps forward, large frame swaying in the air until you catch him. you stumble from the weight, but you're struck still by a long arm winding around your waist, keeping you right there as jack comes into your hand and a little onto your belly.
parasites making me think about giving eric draven head.
the way he kisses you leading up to it. his hands on your waist and hips, gripping your flesh like he's shocked that you're here right now and he doesn't want to ever lose you. you know it's how he truly feels. it's nice to have his words reinforced in his hands.
he always puts your pleasure first, leaving you to be the bad guy when you gently glide his hands away from your cunt. he pulls away from your lips regretfully, his lips still pursed as he blinks at you through lidded eyes. his eyebrows do that thing, the one where the arches lift in a minute tick. you only notice it because you notice him.
there's an unspoken answer to an unspoken question showing itself when you slyly smile. you let your actions speak for you as you sink to your knees, settling yourself between his long legs.
"baby," he coos, as if to say you don't have to.
"baby," you affirm. i want to.
the tension in his body evaporates into the air surrounding you both as you take him into your hand and press your tongue against his tip. you lick the pre off of him, making sure to get the droplet that has fallen off to the side of him.
there are times where you tease him a bit. where you like to see how much he could take before he asked you to give him more or took matters into his own hands, which is rarer than a blue moon. he's so big and intimidating, but he always lets you set the pace. one day you'll get him to break.
usually, you give it to him straight away—wrapping your lips around his tip, flattening your tongue around the underside, sinking down as far as you could go without being as warmed up as you could be.
there are the times where he'll help warm you up, fucking your mouth with two of his fingers, sticking them far back over and over again to get you used to the motion before you took something bigger. but today, you just do the same thing with his cock, taking him deeper and deeper every time.
and each time when your gag reflex triggers around his cock, his stomach tenses, abs briefly flashing every single time.
he's pliant beneath your hands and mouth. not so intimidating when he's whining and digging his feet into the ground with efforts to keep still. he reminds you of yourself when he's like this, completely at the mercy of the other, struggling to comply by still doing so. except, when your positions are flipped, you make a point of being a bit brattish about it. your hand grips eric's hair instead of places itself on the back of his head like his hand does to you. you force him into your cunt instead of let him set the pace.
he's much kinder about it all.
he won't say it, but you know he likes it when you make a mess on his cock. when saliva pools around your mouth and dribbles down to gather in his pubes. when your eyeliner and mascara run down your cheeks. when you leave lipstick marks on his velvety skin.
you do your best to leave evidence, letting him paint your face with his cum instead of simply catching it in your mouth. you do it now, resisting the urge to flinch while you let eric guide your hand back and forth over his cock.
"you ready?" he asks, his voice breathy.
you nod, glancing at his cock once before looking back into his eyes. when his cock twitches in your hand, you pinch your eyes shut and let the warmth rain over your visage.
high sex (weed); oral (f receiving); overstimulation; squirting; more taking advantage of; luke previously called r his "little sister"; slight dubcon elements
1.2k+ words
MDNI 18+
w/ LUKE RIORDAN
"sweetheart..." luke holds the back of your head in his palm, pulling his hand down to your neck where he strokes your skin. "you've gotta stop getting ahead of yourself."
you blink at him lazily, too busy focusing on manually breathing to even attempt a response. besides, you couldn't say anything with a mouthful of cotton.
luke sends a small smile, dipping his gaze to peer at you. "you okay?" he moves closer when you don't respond, wiping the tips of your noses together and then resting his forehead against yours.
"relax," he urges, "don't fight it."
and you think he's talking about the weed. andre's told you this before—told you to let the high control you instead of trying to control the high. you're about to repeat the routine, closing your eyes and relaxing your breath, but then you feel luke's hand playing with the decorative bow manufactured in the center of your pajama shorts.
"luke?" you ask. you're so far gone that your own voice seems slightly foreign to your ears. but everything about luke is familiar. his fingers as they tickle down your lower stomach. his lips as they kiss your jaw. the gentle way he shushes you as he lays you back against his bed.
"'m just gonna get your mind off of it a little, okay? like in the club the other night, yeah?"
it takes strength to convince yourself to nod, to walk through the thick fog starting to turn into cement in your brain, but you do. for the rest of the time, you let luke take control. he's much better at handling his high, plus his tolerance is much higher than yours. he's in complete control—both of himself and of you.
he doesn't have the same feverish nature to his movements this time. no, today he takes his time with you. peeling your layers off and kissing down your body, adding more and more weight to your limbs with every single peck.
you dissociate, you lose track of time as everything seems to go slower. by the time you come back to, it's by the force of luke pulling an orgasm out of you. your body does it all for you, your mind not even a contributor in the actions. your back arches as you push your cunt down against luke's mouth, trying to gather more from him.
you have no idea how long he's been between your legs, but you can't believe you've missed it all. luke pulls away, his lips shining as he smiles at you. you're already making a small sound when his body heat disappears from you, a whine that comes from the back of your throat.
luke tilts his head, laughing a bit to himself. "what? you want more?"
shamelessly, you nod. "yeah."
he wraps his fingers around the neckline of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. he settles himself between your thighs once more, pulling each leg over his shoulder one at a time. he kisses your clit once and then throws a glance up at you, nothing good swimming in his eyes.
"you always this needy?" he asks, already moving closer to your weeping warmth before you can even respond.
without considering if the question was rhetorical, you take a sharp breath. "maybe...?"
luke licks a long stripe from your hole to your clit, going back down to purse his lips around your entrance. his flicks his tongue out, pressing the tip into you before bringing it back out, cupping the front, and the scooping your arousal into his mouth like he needs it to live.
you gasp, hands digging into the sheets. an answer finds you somewhere throughout the shock, climbing down to your mouth and leaving without much conscious consideration.
"i wouldn't know. no one makes me feel like you make me feel." the words are jumbled, barely coherent with the way they unceremoniously throw themselves out of your mouth and towards luke.
he smiles against you.
the first time luke got you off—not back at the club but here—was not even a blur. it happened in a blink, no evidence of the moment occurring other than the small bit you caught of it and the reaction still settled in your body. but you will yourself to stay present for this one.
you make sure you feel every lick and suck. every kiss and taunting nibble. every stroke of his fingers and flick of his tongue. it's easy for you to stay still, your limbs weighing more than even you can handle. but your hands are the exception. twisting in the sheets, clawing through luke's hair, twitching with the urge to do something that you can't quite name. your heart works overtime in your chest, directly influenced by the weed that you can still taste on your teeth.
an orgasm warns you of its impending existence, preparing your body for what you’ve wanted to experience for years. you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of luke doing this to you, even if he’s only done it twice thus far, a third on the precipice.
when you come, you’re loud. you don’t think you were this loud when luke gave you the first one, but maybe you were because luke doesn’t seem shocked about it at all. he doesn’t appear to have any particular negative feelings towards your reaction, his mouth seared on your cunt and his eyes only wide enough to watch you.
you hadn’t noticed the weight to luke’s eyes until now, that and the slightly red tint overtaking the whites of them. for the first time you realize just how hot he looks when he’s high.
as you come down, you think about how luke has always treated you like you were with him. not in the romantic sense, he always used the familial excuse. “she’s like a sister to me,” said over and over again. when andre would throw a pointed glance at luke’s arm slung over your shoulder, when the others would eye you both a certain way as you peeled off from the group, when he caressed your cheek or fixed the strap of your shirt.
but nothing is familial about any of this. nothing screams little sister and big brother about the way luke pushes your thighs apart and continues to eat you out, even as you try to move him away. you’re losing grip again, starting to slip into a slight slumber that’s not completely atypical. there’s a dull craving for food in your belly, a distant thought that you’d like to dive into that show on netflix that luke was talking about. but you can’t do any of that with a supe between your legs, determined to stay here until he says so.
“don’t give up on me,” he says your name like he’s signing off his statement, “not yet.” he shakes his head, kissing right under your navel before digging his fingers into the meat of your thighs, forcing them open. “just let me get one more from you. one more and then we’re done. promise.”
you can’t be mad at luke, not when the final orgasm he gives you is bigger than the last two, the evidence in the form of your juices shooting out and splashing against luke’s chin and chest.
when he grins up at you like he’s proud of you, you think that you could give luke whatever he wants, as long as he keeps looking at you like that.
drug use (molly); taking advantage; fingering; unprotected p n v; friend!luke
MDNI 18+
w/ LUKE RIORDAN
“are you…?” luke grips your face in his hand, pinching your chin as he turns your head side to side.
you try to act normal, trying to keep your jaw movements minimal and narrow your eyes just enough. but when you shudder at the touch of luke's hand on your shoulder—a platonic touch, really—it all clicks for him.
"are you rolling right now?"
no answer is clearly an answer. he curses under his breath, letting go of your face and the lack of his touch makes you whine. hopefully, the sound of everything else in this room drowns the sound out.
"can't believe you let cate talk you into this shit again," he says, looking around the room likely for the person who got you into this mess in the first place. you don't give him time to find her, in your eyes, you don't have time for anything other than satiating this burning need within you.
teary eyes, a hand around his wrist, a trembling chin, all because of an obnoxious tickle in your abdomen. it's so prominent in your current state that you can't even enjoy the situation you're in. you need help, and there's no one else you could go to.
luke's too sweet. too caring for his friends. he really lives up to his name. golden boy, the moniker sticks even as he guides you to a bathroom and pushes you into a stall.
a hand pushed under your skirt and around the crotch of your panties and you're already gone. head lolling back, moans audible as they bounce around the bathroom. just a single tweak of luke's fingers against your clit does it for you. mewling, whining.
you nod when luke starts to stroke your clit, reaching down to wrap a hand around his wrist once more when he speeds his pace up. throughout it all, luke's eyes are soft—watching every twitch of your facial muscles to determine how you feel. it's not until your feeble fingers wrap around the sturdiness of his wrist that he changes. a squint in his eyes, a harshness you've never seen even during his training.
your touch is pulled away, your hand pushed back into the wall behind you. you still have one good hand, but you know better than to try and do something with it. you remain at luke's mercy, letting him caress you beneath his touch until you've had enough.
except, enough doesn't come.
luke makes a complete mess of you right there in that bathroom. you soak his hand and your panties, and the sight is so mesmerizing that luke wants you to do the same to his cock. he takes you from behind, pulling your skirt up and pushing your sticky panties to the side to make just enough room for him.
you're so complaint the entire time and luke doesn't know if your compliance is a symptom of your respect for him or your inebriation. it could very well be both, but that just does it for luke even more. makes the force behind his thrusts stronger. makes his grunts and groans louder. makes the load he spills on your inner thigh bigger.
it makes his appreciation for you stronger, too. gives him some ideas for later.
cage fighter logan is a self proclaimed lone wolf. he doesn't need dead weight, anyone asking about a past he doesn't remember. he travels alone, and light. but you aren't someone he travels with.
you find him, again and again, running into him no matter where he goes. and logan would be suspicious. if you spent the same amount of time asking questions as you do on your back, then logan would cut you loose. but you don't. with the two of you, it's strictly physical. and logan likes it that way.
logan doesn't care about treating you how he does because you're so eager to take it like that. you beg him to treat you like you're nothing but another one of the fighters logan faces in the ring, of course with a few differences. and he's so eager to give it to you because truthfully, he's still a man. lone wolf or not, he needs a release he can't get from drunken, over-confident patrons who challenge him.
you give him what he needs.
pressed up against his chest, curled under his chin, you submit to him. your head lolled back, your eyes closed, as logan just breathes. you've never asked him why he does it, why every single time the two of you are together, he takes time to glide his hand down your body. maybe he's taking it all in.
the feeling of your stomach rising and falling beneath the heavy press of his palm. the slope of your tits, temporarily confined beneath the top of your dress. you travel your hand with his, peeking down once or twice to see the stark difference between the sizes of you two. that becomes even more noticeable when he lines himself up with you, purposefully missing your entrance to glide the tip of his cock through your arousal, uncaring of the snail trail left behind as he lifts himself up to lay across your mound and tummy.
"look at that," he'll tell you, prompting both of you to just stare down. you know it'll fit, but it's fun to pretend that it won't. it makes the strength of how he fucks you that much better.
he likes to see you squirm and cry. he likes to pin your wrists down against the bed with his hands and do the same to your hips with his pelvis. he likes to force his cock in you over and over again, enthusiastically taking the control that you have surrendered. he tends to growl throughout, his teeth bared and sometimes sinking into your skin just enough.
it's hard for logan to remember why he doesn't like other people with him whenever you fit so well. it's hard to remember that the two of you have rarely had any conversations that weren't foreplay when you take him so well. it's nice to feel wanted like this, to always have a pretty cunt wide open for him, always ready to take whatever he'll give.
maybe logan will cave and let you tag along with him, get rid of the anticipation between meetings, allow for more spontaneity.
listening to diet pepsi n thinking abt having the most stereotypical teenage american romance w stiles.......
untouched, XO
young lust, lets- ah
when we drive in your car, im your baby
losing all my innocence in the backseat
car sex; established relationship; rawdogging; brief mention of accidental pregnancy; not proofread
MDNI 18+
w/ STILES STILINSKI
a summer of kept promises with stiles.
there’s something in the air, a feeling of change steadily drifting to you both within the front. it’s mostly unspoken, always crept around with fear that if you really said it now, it’ll all end prematurely.
so you keep your impending doom to yourselves, nothing but shared looks across the console of his jeep.
summer is halfway over by the time stiles gets back to beacon hills, but that’s fine. you both make quick work of the time you have left. nostalgia becomes prevalent as you relive a simpler time, a time where stiles was the only one with a license and a car. there’s some things different about it this time, like the shameless way you hold his hand as he drives you both to a sonic just a little far outside of town. you both know it’s so that you can make the drive last longer, hanging on to all of the time you both have left together.
you sip diet pepsi’s and sickingly sweet milkshakes, sharing new stories from freshman year and old stories from the years before. you look at him from your side, your feet tucked up into the seat, your head lolled back against the seat. stiles has always been pretty, but he looks prettier tonight. maybe it’s the sentiment of it all, the young love circling the air.
your last year being teenagers has a way of making you sappy. you hadn’t expected the element of existentialism, but it’s not completely unwelcome. especially when it leads you to doing things you would’ve never done without it.
you weren’t innocent before stiles and you knew he wasn’t innocent before you, but something about giving yourself to stiles in the backseat feels like an act of deflowering. maybe it's the tender way he touches every part of you, equal parts analysis and appreciation as he slides his fingers down between your petals, dragging nectar onto your bundle of nerve endings. when you kiss him, he tastes like a strawberry milkshake, the flavor mixing with your own as he presses his tongue against yours.
he sinks his fingers into you, reaching further and further, gliding his fingertips against your walls. he watches you the entire time, eyes lidded, lips open, his expression one you've never really seen on him before. he wears it well. as well as you wore the jeans that have become nothing but an unimportant bundle of fabric on the floor.
"could stay here just like this," he tells you, his forehead resting against yours as he lets his eyes flutter close. he takes a breath, and you take it with him. he releases his naturally, while yours gets punched out of you with a well-crafted twitch of stiles' hands.
"yeah?" he asks. you groan, your head tipping back as it just continues to get better.
stiles laughs to himself a bit. "yeah," he deduces.
you, too, could stay like this forever. letting stiles pull you apart and put you back together until you couldn't think anymore, existing outside of the rest of the world and in a bubble you've both created in the back of a deserted parking lot. a world that smells like black ice little trees, joined by a few empty water bottles on the floor, and shut off from the outside by foggy windows.
but time hasn't stopped here. you only have so many hours left together before you're off to a second year apart, one that'll be so much different than the first.
you need to cherish your time together.
you pull stiles' hand from between your legs when he goes to give you another orgasm. he watches you the entire time, eyes dark while you bring his fingers to your lips. he's weightless, allowing you to maneuver his touch. he only acts when you have his fingers sitting on your tongue, your lips wrapping around his digits soon after.
he thrusts his fingers back into your mouth, pressing onto your tongue once, and pulling out when you gag around him. there's a sick look in his eyes when it happens, but you don't comment on it for fear that he'll take it negatively. you like when he looks at you like that. like you're completely his. his to toy with, his to control, his to learn every single detail of, all for his own twisted benefit.
he tries to tug his hand away in favor of lining himself up, but you keep him there for just a while longer—long enough to swirl your tongue around his fingers, ignoring the taste of yourself because it gives him pleasure to watch you like this. and then when you're done, you let him pull his hand away, grinning when he smears your own saliva over your bottom lip.
it's risky, letting him enter you raw, but just the once. you tell yourself you're prepared for the consequences, you're not shocked that the idiocy and delusion easily settle into stiles' brain too.
"whatever happens," he tells you, hovering his tip right over your entrance. "we'll go through it together." and when he says it like that, sincerity making way through the thick fog of hormones, you believe him.
you tangle your hands in his overgrown hair and pull him down for a kiss while he slides home.
description. it was only a matter of time before you realized how hard you've fallen for your roommate.
includes. roommate!tyler owens, so much fluff, pining, appearance of reader's ex, protective tyler, sexual tension, copious amounts of pet names, minor display of anxiety, drinking,
wc. 3.5k+
a/n: before you ask, i am not opposed to a part two. no promises.
You’re jolted out of a deep, and much-needed, sleep by the sound of bowls crashing onto the floor. You lay there for a second, trying to listen for any other sound while calming your racing heart. When nothing else comes, you grab your phone from the nightstand and through squinty eyes start to check locations.
Your parents are home, your best friend is at work, and there—Tyler Owens, 0 miles away. His contact, the cartoonish drawing of him usually seen on a tee shirt, hovers right above the blue dot that represents you.
The giddiness that instantly floods your body is embarrassing. It pulls you out of bed, somehow being the only thing to convince you to wake up on your day off, and drags your feet into the kitchen. You don’t bother checking your appearance on the way out, Tyler has seen you through your worst since he nursed you back to health during flu season, and he’s seen you first thing in the morning many times before.
But when he lifts his head from behind a cabinet at the sound of your slippers dragging against the floor, the shock on his face momentarily scares you. Do you look like absolute shit?
It’s not until Tyler grins, luckily a split second later, that you relax.
“Sorry,” he says, looking back into the cabinet and closing it with three ingredients in his hand. “Butter fingers.”
You yawn, walking into the kitchen and sitting at the island. “‘s okay. When did you get back? I thought y’all were gonna be in Missouri for a few more days.”
Tyler brings the ingredients to the island, settling them down in front of you on the other side. It’s then that you realize what he’s making. Brioche bread that’s about to expire, sugar, eggs, milk, cinnamon, a tub of fruit that definitely wasn’t in your fridge.
The memory of the taste of Tyler’s French toast makes itself familiar at the tip of your tongue without your permission.
“We were, but then Boone got a tip that there would be some action happening right back here,” he cracks the egg into one of your mixing bowls, “so here we are.”
Home. Tyler’s back home for the first time in weeks. He won’t be here for long, but that’s okay. It’s the deal you initially wanted whenever you talked to Tyler with interest in him being your roommate.
It was nearly a year ago now, right at the end of peak tornado season of last year. Tyler had been in Arkansas doing what he usually did, wrangling tornadoes with the others with him. You knew who he was, it was impossible not to, especially living right outside of his hometown. But you had never crossed paths, not until your sweet, but meddling, grandmother—bless her heart—told you that the grandson of her Bingo partner was looking for a place to stay. Permanently. Or, as permanent as a home for a storm chaser could be.
You were desperate, struggling financially and emotionally with a still-fresh breakup weighing on your mind. So when Tyler Owens swooped in with a brunch recommendation, promises to pay his half of the rent on time, and explanations that he would rarely be home during summer months, you jumped on the deal.
You should’ve known that you would’ve developed a small crush on him, but that’s all it is. A small crush on a guy who was sweet enough to make you breakfast since he dropped in. It would surely go away soon enough.
“How long are you staying for?” You’re already preparing yourself for heartbreak when you ask the question. Initially, you liked the idea of having your house all to yourself. All of the freedom, half of the financial responsibility.
But when you and Tyler grew closer, you started to hate the summer.
“Um…” he hesitates, adding copious amounts of cinnamon into the mixture while he drags the word out. Is he stalling? “A couple days. Maybe three?”
You try to hide your disappointment but Tyler is already trying to make you feel better.
He looks up, mouth broken into a wide smile that shows his white teeth. “But I’m here to make it worth your while. Breakfast, I’ll take you wrangling with us if you’d like, and then Betsy’s on me. Yeah?”
The promise of quality time and fattening barbecue was enough to brighten your mood.
“Yeah.”
You knew you weren’t particularly fond of storm chasing, but you found yourself with the others anyway. And after an EF-0 where you prayed and clutched the harness strapped across your chest and Tyler’s hand across the console, you swore to yourself—and mostly Tyler—that you would never do it again. Even though the joy from the others was infectious and you found yourself giggling with Tyler when it was all over.
Tyler quickly made it up to you, though. He called it a day earlier than you thought he would. You knew he did it on your behalf, but he pretended like it was a strategic decision.
“Most of the action will be tomorrow anyway.”
And he was probably telling the truth, but you saw the shock in Boone’s eyes as Tyler told the others that the two of you were going to split off for Betsy’s just when the day was getting started. He ditched the others for you, and it made your heart flutter.
The two of you end up in a familiar place, seated in the back corner booth of Betsy’s. You’re nestled up against the window, wearing the sweatshirt you left in Tyler’s car months ago. You’re shocked he still had it, but he assured you that he would never give it away. And if he did, he would’ve given you a Tornado Wrangler one for free to make up for it.
“Tell me what you’ve been up to while I was gone.”
You tear your eyes away from the window to look at Tyler. You shouldn’t be shocked that he was already looking at you, he was speaking to you, but something about the way he looks at you will always make your heartbeat a little extra hard for a moment.
You hum, lifting your eyes and thinking. There’s nothing you’ve been doing other than trying to keep sane.
“There were a few weeks there where I almost bought a dog.”
Tyler’s eyebrows raise but he doesn’t seem opposed to the idea. “Really?” he asks.
You nod, reaching out to take a sip from your drink. “Yeah. Someone in town had rescued a puppy and he was just calling my name.”
“What would you have named him?”
You hesitate, trying to keep the embarrassment from finding your face as you fix your lips to tell Tyler the truth. “...Wrangler.”
He grins and you’re already trying to do damage control. Tyler beats you to it.
“You missed me that much? C’mon, sugar.”
The pet name almost slips by you in your haste. Almost.
“That wouldn’t even have been why! You’re so full of yourself, Ty.”
“You make it so easy. Don’t blame me.”
Your laughter refuses to subside even when the waiter comes to check on you both. Tyler manages to tell her that everything’s fine, while also smoothly ordering your favorite slice of pie. You didn’t even have to ask for it. He just knew.
By the time the order’s placed, you’ve calmed down a bit, taking small sips of water in an attempt to calm down the heat in your body.
“A German shepherd…” He nods to himself. “Loyal. Intelligent. Good search and rescue dogs. I bet Wrangler would’ve been a good addition to the house. Someone to keep you company while I’m gone.”
You try to pretend that’s not the exact reason why you wanted a dog in the first place. “And I would’ve taught him to chew on the bottom of all your jeans.”
“Well, luckily I like the rugged look.” A second goes by. “What else were you doing?”
You shake your head, your way of telling him that’s it.
“He didn’t come by again, did he?”
A painful kick meets your insides at the mention of your ex. You knew Tyler would’ve asked you about Beau since the breakup is what allowed Tyler to move in in the first place. He hadn’t ever mentioned him before, not until Beau showed up drunk one night and demanded you let him back in. It was a terrifying and embarrassing moment for you, but it also started the bond between you and Tyler.
Unfortunately, if it weren’t for that night, you and Tyler would’ve never been as close as you are today. He wouldn’t have even known your pie order and you probably would’ve had a year-old dog for companionship by now.
“No. I haven’t seen him since that night.”
Tyler nods, grinning up at the waiter as she brings your pie and Tyler’s banana pudding over.
“That’s good. And the security system works well on the house, right?”
You nod in a response, sticking your fork into your pie.
“I’ve been checking in periodically when I’m on the road. Testing the cameras. You’re giving the tomatoes too much water, by the way.”
You’re instantly on the defensive, abandoning the next perfect piece of pie that you’d just separated for yourself. Your eyes lift, settling on Tyler, but quickly you glance behind him, and shit.
He’s here.
Your face must drop or something because Tyler instantly sees that something is different. He quietly asks you what’s wrong, the same tone he uses whenever you’re sick smoothing over his words, but when you don’t answer, he turns around and looks for himself.
He swears, already turning back around. “Do you wanna leave? If you go ahead out to the truck I can cover the check. Here, pull your hood up, and you can wear my hat—”
You shake your head, staring right back at Tyler and ignoring the pull that tries to get you to look at Beau. “No. Let’s finish our dessert.”
Tyler blinks, his lips parted. You can tell he wants to ask if you’re sure, but he doesn’t. He takes a second, staring at you, and then he sits back, clears his throat, and dips his spoon into his banana pudding.
Your heart speeds up until it’s painful in your chest. You worry for a second, image after image of everything that could go wrong flooding your mind. Tears sting your eyes but you try to sniff them away, busying yourself with dividing your pie up into pieces that you don’t even attempt to eat.
“Honey,” Tyler says, “eat your pie.”
You feed yourself a bite and are instantly reminded of you why like it so much.
Tyler continues to talk to you about the garden, telling you that the conditions this summer weren’t really living up to last summer so the lackluster harvest from your tomatoes wasn’t necessarily you’re fault, but the entire time you’re simply praying that Beau will leave before he notices you.
You glance his way multiple times, staring at the side of him as he stands at the bar, likely waiting on a to-go order. Briefly, you can’t help but miss him and the way he would always pick up dinner here on Sundays.
It’s a Friday.
You wonder what else about his routine has changed.
Tyler continues. “There might be better conditions leading into the Fall but truly, I doubt it. It might just be time to say goodbye to the garden for now…”
You nod, mindlessly eating pie while Beau grabs his bag and turns around. You should’ve looked down or at Tyler because as soon as he turns, he looks at you.
He lingers for a second, staring, and you do the same. Beau smiles, tight and friendly, and lifts a hand in a wave.
You do the exact same, not giving more energy even though something in you wants him to come over and speak to you.
Quicker than you can realize, Tyler turns around and throws up two fingers in a wave to Beau. Beau leaves not long afterward, and you can’t help but wonder if he thinks you and Tyler are dating now.
The idea is appealing.
“Why does it always take you so long to get out of the car?”
“You don’t have to wait, just go inside.”
“Now that wouldn’t be very chivalrous, would it?”
“Thought chivalry was dead.”
Tyler scoffs as if you’ve offended him. “As long as I’m alive it sure ain’t.”
You purse your lips to fight off a smile. “You sound like Boone.”
“He’s my brother from another mother for a reason.”
Their twin-like synchronization will always be equal parts weird and admirable.
Tyler watches you struggle to put your boot on, holding the door open for you the entire time. You really do feel bad that you’re taking so long, but midway through the drive your purse opened and spilled its contents out onto the floor. That, paired with your tendency to get really comfortable in Tyler’s truck, has you taking longer than usual to get out of the car.
Tyler stood silently for the first minute, but after that, he’d—rightfully—grown frustrated.
“Okay, almost done. Just looking for my lip gloss.”
You hear the tension in Tyler’s voice when he responds. “Just leave it. I’ll find it in the morning.”
You squint, searching under the seat through your spread legs. “You’ll forget.”
When you jump out of the car, he seems excited, until you bend over and peer under the seat with a better look. Tyler sighs but you ignore him.
You swear you’ve almost found it but then it comes out of nowhere—a crack of thunder that resounds throughout the sky, immediately followed by rain pouring down. There are no warning drops, it comes out altogether, but Tyler acts quickly.
He pushes you into the house, treating you like you’re in the military, yelling “Go! Go! Go!” against the sound of rain.
By the time you get inside, you can feel the damage done to your hair. You’re already wincing, looking into the mirror in front of the door, turning your face this way and that.
“If you weren’t taking so long—” Tyler doesn’t get to respond before you’re glaring at him through the mirror. He throws his hands up in surrender, but they soon drop to your waist instead.
Just this casual touch warms your chest.
“You look fine,” He reassures, even though your hair textures are different in multiple spots. But he says it like he means it, and not like he’s just trying to make you feel better. He stares at you through the mirror, his body right behind yours.
You give up trying to fix it, besides there’s not much you can do without products and tools. Instead, you turn around, watching Tyler easily slip off his boots. You do the same with yours, placing them both together by the door.
It looks right. It is right.
Just as right as Tyler’s suggestion of popping open a bottle of wine and throwing on reruns.
He tells you about the storms they’ve been chasing while you pass the bottle back and forth, occasionally stopping to criticize the actions of the characters on your TV as if this is the first time he’d seen this.
It’s not until you’re three episodes in and trying to fight off the wine sleepiness (and horniness) that Tyler turns to face you.
“Hey,” he says, resting his hand on your ankle that sits right beside his thigh. “You doing okay?”
At first, you don’t understand the point of the question. “Yep. Trying not to fall asleep.”
He smiles as if he shares the sentiment, but still shakes his head. “‘s not what I mean. After earlier, are you okay?”
“Oh. Yeah. ‘m fine, Ty. Thanks.”
He doesn’t press it anymore.
“Sorry I’ve been gone.”
“You don’t have to apologize. It’s what we agreed on.”
“I know but it doesn’t feel right leaving you here all alone.”
“I’m fine, Tyler. Seriously.”
“I know, I know. You can take care of yourself. But I like taking care of you, too. I like being here for you.”
You turn to face Tyler, staring at the way the pink lights of a commercial illuminate the side of his face. He looks so honest as he usually does, but there’s something in his eyes that you haven’t seen before. Maybe it’s always been there, but you hadn’t been looking for it.
Now, it’s plain and simple, sitting right there for you to do something with.
Just as you’re about to do something, Tyler turns back to face the TV. You push away the dismal feeling that threatens to crawl up your throat.
It fizzes away a bit whenever Tyler rubs his thumb over your ankle.
You feel like you’re dreaming. Maybe you are. Maybe you dozed off on the couch to Tyler rubbing soothing circles over your ankle and the arch of your foot while you both mindlessly watched reality TV. You glance down at your hand, seeing only what you’re supposed to be seeing, and then you look back up at Tyler to see what you shouldn’t be seeing.
You’ve lived in denial for a while. It’s been easy to pretend that you didn’t like Tyler because there’s no way he could like you too. He’s just a gentleman, raised right by his momma, and that had always been the explanation. Tyler’s upbringing explained why he was so eager to risk the flu just to help you out, why he drove an hour just to give you a jump when your battery died, why he taught you line dances until you were a puddle of sweat on your living room floor. Why he ditched his friends to hang out with you, why he briefly abandoned his one true love—tornado wrangling—to give you a day he thought you deserved. Why he punched your ex without any hesitation at the first sign of disrespect.
But Tyler’s upbringing didn’t put this look in his eyes. A look so defined that you cannot deny it anymore.
Both of you stand in front of your bedroom doors, backs turned to the wood in order to face the other. Tyler stares down at you, eyes lidded with bags beneath, but no less infatuated.
He doesn’t say anything. He just looks.
You speak first.
“I missed having you home, Ty.”
This surprises him. He tilts his head, letting the surprise show on his face as his eyebrows raise and his eyes widen. “I knew you did, honey bun. But what happened to loving the place all to yourself?”
You shrug, trying to be nonchalant even though your feelings are anything but. “Turns out that’s boring and too quiet. I miss your chaos.”
“You miss my chaos?” He nods as he says it, astonishment on his face. “And that’s supposed to be a compliment?”
You scoff, rolling your eyes, turning around, and reaching for your door. “You knew it was a compliment, asshole.”
He’s laughing through his apology. It’s as lighthearted as your chastising.
He extends his arms, wrapping them around your body and hugging you from behind. You don’t mean to meld with his shape as quickly and easily as you do, but maybe that’s the thing. It’s natural for you to fit yourself right into Tyler, just like it was natural for him to fit himself right into your life.
He hums, resting his chin against your head.
“I missed you, too, love bug.” Ugh, the nickname. He makes it sound like you’re in love with him.
(Are you?)
You spin around in Tyler’s arms, doing so easily with the space he gives you, but then he’s right back on you, arms wrapped around your shoulders and your head resting on his chest.
You have your arms wrapped around his waist, breathing in the soft scent of laundry detergent, outside, and his cologne all melding on the cotton of his shirt.
You sigh, content with what life has given you.
When you say, “I’m glad you made it home”, it comes out naturally. You feel it deep within you, glad that whatever divine intervention or luck was on your side to bring Tyler back safely.
When he agrees with an earnest, “I’m glad I’m home”, he says it like he means it too, and you’re sure he does.
A moment goes by and Tyler calls your name. You hum, waiting for him to say something as you lazily blink at him.
“If I asked to kiss you, what would you say?”
Your answer is quick. “I would say yes.”
Tyler nods. “And if I asked you to come spend the night in my room, what would you say?”
You think about it for a second, trying to ignore the fluttering in your stomach and the way your heart has kickstarted. “I would say no.”
His face falls. You pick it back up.
“My room’s better.”
Tyler smiles through his annoyance, already stepping towards your bedroom. You lead him in, one hand on the doorknob as you continue to face him. His hands find your waist, holding you steady and close to him as you both enter your bedroom. It’s not until you’re both standing in your room that he pushes his lips to yours.
naked woman clothed man; creampie; fucking w boots on; outdoor sex; very romance: MDNI 18+
w/ TYLER OWENS
it was supposed to be a cute date. and it was, truly. tyler checked the weather to be sure you wouldn't be rained on. he had your mom make your favorite dessert, picked up your favorite food. he brought his old truck out of retirement just for you, teasing you about the fond memories you both created in that very truck years ago.
there was a subtext of recreating said memories, unspoken between the both of you, but very much there.
for the most part, the date was sweet, the two of you sitting in the bed of his truck in the night with nothing but the stars to keep the two of you company. but somewhere along the way the cute romantic aura shifted into this: you riding tyler to kingdom come in nothing but your boots.
he really wishes he wore his hat today, because just the thought of you wearing it and your boots while you were on top of him has him close. he digs his nails into the meat of your hips, burying his head into your chest while he tries to regain control.
you grin from above him and to tyler, it's the face of an angel.
"close already, ty?"
how do you sound sweet even when you're teasing him?
tyler groans, wrapping his hands around your lower back as he tugs you even closer to him.
"you just look so pretty, baby. doing so good for me, too."
you press a hand into the fabric of tyler's white tee. "yeah?" you ask, only continuing when you feel tyler nod against you. "'m close too. help me out?"
so he flips you over as gently as he can, pulling his shirt over his head and shuffling his jeans further down his thighs before he hovers over you. he takes a moment to ogle, taking in your completely bare form, and then he guides his cock back into you.
you lift your legs on your own, but it's tyler who pressed your thighs to your tits and forced you into the position. his head is crowded by your boots like this, a pair almost as old as your relationship with him. he knows them so well, but this is the first time they've been in this space. the smell of you, leather, and dirt is all so comforting. it smells just like home in arkansas.
tyler thinks he has it all under control now. he has you in a position he's wanted, he's going to get you to cum first and then he'll get himself off after. he's done this before and he'll do it again.
but then you moan, prompted by the change in position, and you beg. "will you come in me, ty? please. i wanna feel it."
and how could any man last after that? it's only a few strong and pointed thrusts later that tyler blows inside of you, pushing the come deeper into you and just holding his cock there because it's what you wanted. his baby asked to feel it so he'll make sure you feel it.
a bit of spend leaks out around him, but tyler easily swipes it up on two fingers and uses the lubrication to rub your clit and push you to an orgasm. even when your cunt flutters around him and he slips out a bit, he pushes right back in, refusing to leave the warm embrace until you ask him to.
