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ੈ♡˳ imagine you're wearing logans dog tags as you ride him. 18+
you're rolling your hips on him, riding him just how he wants. his firm, calloused hands grip your hips with purpose, digging into your flesh so hard it will surely leave bruises. he wants to leave bruises, evidence of how much he wants you, needs you. growling like a fucking animal as his cock slides in and out of you with ease, each slap of his hips connecting with yours earning soft moans from your lips and rough grunts from his.
he loves staring into your eyes while he fucks you, watching those pretty eyes of yours roll back into your skull - but not tonight. tonight he can't help but be mesmerised by the way his dog tags around your neck bounce each time he thrusts. the soft jingling of the metal fills his ears, adding to the sounds of skin on skin and ragged gasps.
fuck, they looked so good on you. his rough fingers trail across your lower stomach, snaking their way to the tags. the metal around your neck, a sign that he owned you, watching the metal coined with his name slap against your soft skin rhythmically.
"that's it," he yanks the chain suddenly, causing you to gasp and place your hands on his fuzzy chest to steady yourself, "atta'girl. . ." logan coos, as he pumps up into you, meeting your every movement. by now, he knows your wet hole is just aching to be filled. it started aching the moment you crawled into bed beside him.
every. single. night.
and you're his, you know you're his, you've given yourself completely to him. your hand grips around his on the tags as if solidifying this, silently granting him ownership.
logan grins, feeling his cock twitch inside you.
you looked so pretty with his name around your neck.
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BE MY DADDY
C.Howard/The Ghoul x f!reader w.c 4.6k
MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY
Summary: you were a popular singer for a luxury bar located in the middle of the Mojave desert. an unfamiliar ghoul makes his way inside and you are charmed by his demeanor. an unexpected night unravels for the both of you.
Warnings: slightly ooc Cooper(he's nice), age gap(unspecified), mentions of a brothel, prostitutes, pole dancing, SMUT, unprotected sex, p in v, slight spanking, fingering, overstimulation, bondage, smothering, fluff,
A/n: can you tell I'm heavily inspired by music when I write? I rewrote this 3 times and am still not as happy with it as i want so I will potentially rewrite it in the future. Side note: I'm headcannoning that Lana del Rey exists in this universe strictly for the use of incorporating this song. This is my first time writing a proper smut, so please be gentle! lol. Hope you enjoy!
The “bar” Cooper found himself in was unlike any other bar he'd seen during his travels in the wastelands. It was incredibly lively with color, red neon lights graced the walls while the effulgence from the lamps on the counter tops added peaceful contrast to the intense red lights. 4 small round empty stages with poles that reached the intricate ceiling sat among the tables in fashion, leading to the attention of the stage upfront, past all the tables and booths, where a young male ghoul stood singing. There were three ladies behind him singing in harmony, close in age. An older pianist sat off to the side, his fingers working quickly to the beat of their tune on the baby grand piano he sat in front of.
He recognized the song, Orange Colored Sky, originally sung by The Nat “King” Trio. It was a popular song in the midst of his acting career before the war, and had gained a starting popularity long before that.
The duster clad ghoul made his way to a booth that emerged from the left wall close to the front of the stage. Cooper did not usually pick a spot so close upfront, usually the bar counter was his first choice; but every spot in the place had been taken. Many of the people standing next to tables that held whatever group of people they had come in with. He took off his hat and sat it on the table next to him, happy to be relieved of the scratchiness it often brought.
An older ghoul woman walked up to his table, before she could even get a word out a loud shout of, “Flash! Bam! Alakazam!” from the singers upfront before they descended to a quieter tone. Both the ghouls flinched at the sudden sound, their ears more sensitive to sound than the humans scattered in the room.
“Sorry ‘bout that hon, what can I get for ya?” the leather skinned woman next to the side of his table interrogated, grabbing a small notepad and pen that sat in the pocket of the deeply stained apron that was wrapped around her waist.
“‘Mm, jus’ somethin’ strong if ya have it,” he grunted, setting a few caps he grabbed from his duster on the table. Adjusting how he sat, he put his back to the part of the booth that extended directly from the wall so he could get a clearer view of the busy space to ease his nerves. He didn't like having the only exit available behind him. Made him feel more paranoid than usual.
The woman nodded without a word and grabbed the caps, tucking them in her apron with the notepad and pen. As she walked to the serving counter, Coopers eye caught sight of a woman she had walked past. This other woman was dressed as elegantly as you could in this post-war world. She adorned a cherry red cocktail dress, which was surprisingly minimally damaged from the blast, at least from Coopers view. He wondered if someone had made it perchance with some undamaged fabric they found. Her feet displayed black mid height heels that had a delicate ankle strap and her hair was done in a classic Hollywood Pin Up style.
She was jaw dropping gorgeous. And that was saying something. The merciless ghoul hadn't felt genuine physical attraction since before the bombs dropped. There was very little beauty left in the remnants of the war, you were a diamond in the rough to him.
He watched curiously as he waited for his drink, unbeknownst to her. She now stood in front of the serving counter and was talking to the gal who took his order just moments ago. She sipped on what looked to be some sort of cocktail, Cooper couldn't tell, he was a straight liquor kinda guy anyways. Her smile caught his attention even more, it was bright and dashing. He's convinced it could charm anyone who could ever bring that reaction to your face.
He’s lost in thought and didn't realize the barmaid had made her way back to his table, setting his drink down carefully until she spoke, “hope ya enjoy, hon, let me know if ya need anything else ‘kay?”
He nodded her way and she walked away from his booth, this time heading to another table to talk to other customers. The ghoul looked down at the drink in front of him, a honey colored liquid colored half of the glass. Grabbing the glass he took a small swig of the drink, the bitter liquid offering him a sense of comfort as it warmed his chest.
His attention was brought to the stage once again, the previous singers having escorted themselves off and now a much older male ghoul, dressed in a very worn black tuxedo, stood in front of the microphone and gave it a few taps.
“Ladies and gentle-ghouls,” the man started with an airy laugh, his hands clapped as he clasped them together.
“Tonight, we have a very special show. Our regulars already know,” he said, eyeballing and pointing with a finger pointed out from his still clasped hands among the crowd of people that Cooper assumed to be regular customers, “that once every month we get a very talented young lady to put on a wonderful performance for us. I ask that all lamps at tables and booths are turned off for the fullest effect of the show.”
Everyone around did so respectfully, quite murmuring amongst each other about what was about to start. Cooper figured he should do the same and reached for the lamp that hung above him and turned it off.
He noticed the round stripping stages were now each occupied by 4 women dressed in extremely revealing lingerie. He cocked his brow bones at the darkened room, the neon red lights now directly over each individual stage, illuminating the dancers with a red halo. The older ghoul at the front stepped behind the curtain and the lights went dark. Cooper could see some movement but not much as his eyes weren't given time to adjust.
Suddenly, a large orangish-yellow stage light came on directly over the woman in red whom he had seen earlier as she stood at the front center of the stage in front of the microphone, a tambourine held loosely in her hand by her side. She looked heavenly, highlighted in the glow. Seconds later, the male ghoul singer from earlier emerges from the curtains and stands off to her left slightly behind her followed by a new female backup singer who was standing to her right.
In the back left corner of the stage was the man with the piano from earlier, and two other men on each side of him; one occupied the drum-set next and the other a well conditioned acoustic electric guitar.
Place is fuckin’ expensive, the ghoul thought to himself. He assumed solar power was what kept the lights running, the damned place was in the middle of the desert so it would make sense. He liked it, it was considered luxurious for this time.
You scan the crowd in front of you, catching eyes with many of the customers. Your vision lingered to the right and caught sight of where the darkened ghoul sat with his drink in his hand. He was much older than you, you could tell despite the scarred skin of his face. He leaned over the table slightly, his back hunched with his elbows resting on the decaying wood below him. His eyes looked dark from the position he was in as you saw his vision trail to look up at you directly without moving his head even slightly. It made your stomach twinge. With nervousness or desire, you could not quite yet decipher.
Taking a deep breath, you broke the stare and looked at the floor in front of you and then back out to the floor, waiting for your cue from the drummer. A very quiet, “one, two, three, four..” was heard from the drummer as he tapped his drum sticks gently together. The pianist started with a quick melody as you hummed, your backup singers adding depth to your range ever so slightly.
The guitarist quickly indulged when his cue started, the two behind you singing in a repetitive whisper of what’s up, what’s up, where then the drummer began to play, adding a proper rhythm to the song and you followed in suit tapping the tambourine against your thigh to the drummers designated beat. The dancers on the stages in the back slowly began the move to the beat, magnetizing themselves to the poll. Their movements, risque.
The ghoul-ified cowboy suddenly sat up straight, finishing the last of his drink, his head then cocked ever so slightly to the side at the unusual tune. The instrumental seemed slightly classic but the way the lyrics proceeded, did not.
“Lying on the beach in the hot sun, yeah I want you,” your eyes had fluttered shut as your hands reached to grip the microphone held in its stand.
“If you’ve forgotten to have fun, well i’ll show you,” you pointed a finger nonchalantly at the crowd as you expressed the lyrics.
Cooper was astounded, not only were you pretty but you had the voice of an angel, yet the lyrics you sang were not devoid of sin. The barmaid from earlier refilled his glass, sure to stay out of his view of the stage, and he left more caps on the table without taking his eyes off you once.
Your eyes were closed again as you enveloped yourself into the feeling of singing, concentrated on making sure your voice didn't accidentally crack, “you can be my daddy tonight-night-night,” you sang in a few octaves higher than the last verse, your eyes open once again and locking with the ghoul you had shared a look with earlier. You smirked at him as you continued to sing, and his eyes glimmered under the remnants of the stage light that casted through parts of the bar.
The audience was cheering you on now, your voice barely topping the sounds of their hoots and hollers. Men and women both stood around the 4 stages tossing a plethora of caps on the floor of the stages for the dancers. It wasn't a long song, only 3 minutes or so but that did nothing to stop the energy that was built in the room. He liked it, he liked that you were able to do that. To hold an entire group of people under your attention so effortlessly.
The usual lighting turned back on, you and the other members on the stage each took a bow and waved at the crowd before you all stepped behind the curtain, the audience clapping and cheering in response.
You didn’t know why you were so attentive to the ghoul while you sang. His energy, his dark aura, you could practically feel it burning into you with his piercing gaze. You shook your head and gathered your focus, placing your instrument back in the box you found it in, before heading back out to the bar floor, hoping to quickly collect your earnings from the “manager” so you could finally rest for the night in your hotel room.
You loved performing, you loved making a crowd excited with entertainment, but the energy was a lot to handle and your social battery was faltering. But, this was how you made your income and felt it would be disrespectful to whoever had hired you to show that uninterest, so you kept up the facade for as long as you needed. Regardless of the drain, you were grateful.
Cooper got up from his spot, pushing his glass closer to the edge of the table to signal he was done. He turned to look behind him at the bar and there you were once again. You were planted in a worn seat at the bar, waiting for one of the bartenders to pass by you to get a drink. He grabbed his hat and placed it back on his head, stepping out from the booth.
He didn’t know what impulsed him to do so, but he walked up to where you were and looked at the seat next to you, “Spot taken?” he asks, the hoarseness of his southern drawl bringing your attention fully to him. You shook your head, “all yours.” He wasn’t sure what to talk about but after spending an entirety of three months without speaking to quite literally anyone, he craved to have a conversation. It was a rarity in his book for him to do so.
“What is this place? Aint no bar ive ever seen ‘fore,” he questioned you as he looked up at the design of the intricate ceilings.
“Used to be a whore house for rich people in town before the bombs dropped, became a luxury bar and incorporated the previous theme of the place” you said bluntly. Before he could respond you waved a hand to catch the attention of the bartender, “can I get a couple of drinks? The usual for myself and for my friend here, a…” you trailed off looking at him expectant on the reveal of his order.
“Glass o’ whiskey, thanks,” he said reaching into the pocket of his duster once again for more caps. The bartender nodded and turned around.
“So what brings you down here? Never seen you before,” you comment as your drink is placed in front of you, reaching for it and taking a small sip, the bitterness coating the back of your throat. He reciprocates the action, taking a sip of his own, “Bounties, been trying to find ‘em for a while now and happened to find this place on the way. Nothin’ special.”
“Whats yur name, doll?” he asks suddenly, turning the stool he was on towards you. He was surprised by his own actions, he rarely ever was the one to ask questions.
“Y/n, but most people i know around here just call me n/n,” you take another sip, slightly blushing at the term he directed towards you, wishing the alcohol would kick in quicker to ease your nerves.
“Beautiful name for a beautiful gal,” you blushed at his compliment and you noticed him eyeing the path of your body, looking down at your lap for just a second. He really was charming.
“Thanks,” you reply with a small chuckle and an awkward smile. He finished his drink and turned his head to you, “Pleasures mine, darlin’.” You blushed again at the new nickname he had given you. You studied his face more as his features were illuminated under the glow of the lamp. You noticed the complexity of his eyes first; they were a deep yet bold hazel, dancing with multiple tones of greens and brown, that were accessorized by dark eyelashes he somehow still had. His face was scarred and rough, but he still had a handsome structure to it. You didn’t understand what it was about him, but his looks enticed you deeply.
A warmth grew from deep in your stomach and traveled to between your legs. Jesus, Y/n, you thought to yourself, get a grip, you're just desperate from lack of contact, your subconscious spoke to you. And you agreed with yourself. You couldn’t deny that you found him attractive but you also couldn’t deny that you were lonely and desperate. Not wanting to engage in such an intimate act with the wrong person ever again -per a bad ex you had in your earlier days in the wastelands- you kept to yourself and declined any advances anyone tried to make towards you.
Make up your mind Y/n, your internal monologue spoke again, either you go home lonely once again or you indulge for just a night.
Your hands began to sweat from the nervousness of the upcoming audacity you were about to possibly be rejected from. You chugged down the rest of your drink quickly and set the glass on the counter a little harder than you intended. You swiveled your stool to look at the ghoul next to you, and leaned in closer to him ever so slightly.
“Seems like you need a place to rest for the night, why don’t you and I head to my room, hows that sound? Can get us a bottle whatever for free if you want,” you inquired, trying to sound alluring with the minimal seduction skills you had, praying that the rejection you feared wouldnt come.
His eyes widened at the comment and he smirked at you, eyeing you up and down once again, “Well damn darlin’, wasn’t expecting that outta ya, why the hell not huh? How much d’ya want?” You frowned, feeling acutely insulted that he thought you were one of the escorts that roamed the place, and punched his shoulder with a bit of force, “i’m not a prostitute you asshole, i just think you're hot.”
You gathered your earnings and took his hand in yours giddily. It didn’t take long for the both of you to reach the room you were staying in, it was above the bar below. You giggled as he pinched your ass while the both of you walked into the room. You shut it behind you with a slam and quickly turned the still functional deadbolt above the door handle to lock.
“Shit doll, maybe I shoulda said no if I knew you were gonna kidnap me,” he joked as he took off his hat. He knew he was fine, whether you know about his reputation or not -which he assumed you didnt- he didn't feel pressured in the slightest by you. It was nice…to not feel the constant tension he was burdened with day by day.
You turned around to face him, your back to the door. You shook your head with a laugh and reached and grabbed the collar of his duster and leaned to press your lips to his in a rush. Desperate to finally feel something, to feel the sensuality even if it was guided by lust and not love. He pressed his lips back into yours and initiated a deeper kiss.
It wasn't long before his tongue was down your throat and he was hoisting you up to wrap your legs around his waist as he walked the both of you to the king sized bed in the center of the room. Cooper subconsciously checked the quality of the comforters below, making sure they weren’t too stained and grimey, before he flopped you onto the mattress.
He took a step back, quickly removing the bandolier from his shoulder and letting it drop to the floor, followed by his duster and hat. He tossed his guns and gloves onto the discarded pile of accessories and crawled onto the bed, his hips between yours as he held the upper half of his body above you with his forearms which were settled next to the sides of your head. He pressed his lips into yours and grinded his hips down onto you, trying to find relief from the erection that now left his pants uncomfortably tight. You let out a loud moan that was swallowed by his kiss at the feeling. It’d been so long.
You lightly creased your brows at the sudden realization of the coincidence of this evening. The song you had picked to perform was slowly -somewhat- turning into your reality. You had no intention of calling him daddy though. You laughed to yourself at the thought, breaking the kiss.
The ghoul, whose name you realized you did not yet know, sat up on his knees, turning his body and reaching towards your feet at the end of the bed to take off your heels. You got the hint and reached for the hem of your dress as you sat up, pulling it off your body leaving you bare in nothing but your underwear.
“Damn darlin’, you are one mighty fine piece of meat,” he breathed as his attention was caught by your bare breasts. You knew he didn’t mean it derogatorily and honestly you were too embarrassed from the sudden exposure of yourself to care about the meaning behind his words. You went to cover your torso with your arms but he quickly grabbed your wrists with his hands.
“Uh-uh, I wanna see you doll,” his husky voice turned you on even more and you let out a gasp as he leaned forward and pulled your right nipple between his teeth.
“Aye, be gentle, i'm a delicacy not a meal,” you laughed, making a joke about the cannibalistic tendencies of the ghouls that you were well aware of. He let out a genuine laugh, and you reached for his shirt, pulling the hem of it from where it sat tucked in the waist of his pants. He grabbed at your wrists once again, “let’s not do that sweetheart, don’t want to ruin the night by making you look at this old hunk of junk any more than you have to.” You frown at his demand, but you had no place to judge or try to make him overcome his insecurities at the moment. Removing your hands from his shirt you reached up to cup his face, kissing him once more.
“Fuck,” you let out a breathy moan, in an utterly dazed state from the attention you were receiving. You feel his calloused hands reach for your hips as he begins to pull off your underwear; without protest you let him. Desperate for anything to soothe the ache in your core. His hands found themselves on your hips again and you felt him grip you harshly, “wha-”
Now flipped onto your stomach you push yourself to your hands and knees. Panic begins to set in your stomach when you feel him get off the bed. You hear rustling but before you're able to see what he's doing, he's got both of your wrists gripped in one hand, and a rope in the other. You're now face down on the bed, chest against the mattress, losing the balance you had while he tied your wrists together expertly. He pulled at the remaining length of the rope until it reached the headboard of the bed, and tied you to it as if you were cattle he caught.
“Don’ worry doll, i'll be as gentle with ya as I can,” he smirked, you felt a paradox of fear and comforted by the statement. You heard the jingle that came as he undid the buckle of his belt, followed quickly by the sound of a zipper being pulled open.
Quicker than you could process, wet calloused fingers played with the lips of your pussy. You pushed back with a moan, desperate for any more friction you could get. A sharp smack came down on your ass and you lurched forward with a yelp from the sting. It hurt, -he hits hard- but the arousal you experienced from the action was overwhelming. He let his index finger grace and play with your wet slit before sticking a finger in you all the way to the knuckle.
“Yur so fuckin’ tight, jesus fuck,” he moaned out in almost a whine. It didn't take long before he was up to 3, wanting to make sure you were gonna be comfortable enough for his cock.
“Will you just hurry up and stick your fucking dick in me alr-” youre stopped mid sentence as he shoved his entier length in you, all the way to the hilt where it melt his pelvis. Another yelp escaped your lips and his hand pressed down on the back of your neck, keeping your face buried in the mattress. He stretched you good, his cock heavy and quite wide surprisingly; the burn was something you had to readjust to, not having felt it in so long.
“Good girl, takin’ my cock so good, fuck you’re so fucking tight,” he told you again as he began thrusting his hips behind you. You could feel every inch of him, the weight of him. It was to die for. Picking up the pace of his thrusts, your ass smacked against his hips making a lewd noise that anyone walking by would know what it's coming from.
“I-,” you gulped, trying to catch your breath, “i think i'm gonna cum.” That encouraged him and he pounded into you even faster. You knew you were gonna be sore tomorrow.
The pressure that had been building in your stomach started to rise, the snap of your orgasms just out of your grasp. That was, until the ghoul who was relentlessly pounding into you reached forward and began to play with your clit in small vigorous circles. You felt his cock twitch in you and you felt the stinging stretch of your pussy around him once again, he was close.
Not even a minute later his antics had you falling apart in front of him. The pressure in your stomach snapped and you came undone on him, hard. You moaned loudly into the bed, hoping you were quiet enough from being heard by the neighboring rooms. Your hips began to fall to the side from the exhaustion you suddenly felt, but the ghoul gripped your hips and pulled you back up.
Less than ten thrusts later and he pulled out and set his cock between your asscheeks giving himself a few more pumps with his hand, his balls jiggling against your pussy from the movements; you shivered at the overstimulation. He came undone on your lower back with a loud animalistic growl. You were grateful for that, not knowing of the risks that may ensue from having ghoul cum resting inside of you.
Pulling a faded with age bandana out of his back pocket he wiped himself off, folding the cloth neatly and using it to wipe his sticky release off your back.
You heard the clatter of his belt and zipper for the second time that night as he pulled his pants up. You soon saw him out of the corner of your eye as he walked to the head of the bed and began to undo the ropes that were beginning to dig into your wrists. With the newfound freedom you pulled yourself up to your knees in the same position he was once sitting.
You tried to ignore the saddened feeling that stirred when you saw that he was grabbing his belongings so soon, hoping he might have stayed the night. The sudden newfound attachment you had for him brewing sourly in your stomach at his actions. You did your best to bury the feeling.
You turned so you were sitting with your legs crisscrossed on the bed now, still nude, not wanting to have to get up and grab new clothes out of your bag that sat in the corner of the room. The ghoul, who had finished placing his hat on his head, the last of his accessories, noticed the sadness in your eyes when he looked down at you. You were avoiding eye contact with him, trying not to express your displeasure.
“Don’t you worry now darlin’, i’ll be back to see ya in no time,” his leather clad hands cupping your face, wishing to see your eyes clearly just one last time before he left.
“I don’t even know your name,” you said in a whisper, gripping his wrists while looking up at him.
“Cooper. Cooper Howard, darlin’,” he said promisingly and kissed the top of your head before he let go of his hold on you. You let him, dropping your hands from his wrist. You watched as he swiftly exited the room, off to his next mission. It gave you hope that maybe this wasn't the last time you would see him.
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Dave lizewski x popular reader head cannons pt2
A/n: heyyy yall it’s been a minute i had real bad writers block but i came through but hope yall enjoy see yall soon - princess 💋💋💋
Boyfriend Dave who gets a hard-on when you take off his glasses and wear them
Boyfriend Dave who secretly loves when your glitter lipgloss stains his cheeks even though he acts embarrassed
Boyfriend Dave who lets you wear his kick-ass mask for fun
Boyfriend Dave who lectures Tod and Marty for talking bad about you because you're the reason jocks stopped kicking their ass
Boyfriend Dave who doesn't have a lot of money but still manages to get you flowers and the juicy purses
Boyfriend Dave who gets red in the face when you tell him to keep his glasses on during a heavy makeout session
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https://x.com/yourscompIetely/status/1741447734631010361
this looks sm like rafe to me holy fuck😭 anyways just thinking about rafe eating reader out
(p!link !!!)
rafe is an eater !!!! he is an eater and he eats pussy !!!! he likes to take time with it, he could literally spend hours just licking n sucking at your pretty cunt. it’s like he’s in a different headspace when he does it, his eyes glaze over and they only focus on the delicious meal sitting in front of him. if you try close your legs or shy away he bites your clit. actually bites it and sends you the dirtiest glare he can muster. sometimes he’ll slap your thigh or slap your pussy if that doesn’t work. doesn’t care if you’re crying from overstimulation or if you need a break; he’s going until he physically can’t anymore.
just imagine him coming home from a party, high out of his mind with that dopey smile he gets whenever he’s around you. you’re in bed wearing tiny sleep shorts n a pretty cami when he comes in, shrugging off his jacket. he’d crawl onto the bed, responding to your ‘hello’ with a soft noise, strong arms reaching forward to pry your thighs apart. at your affronted yelp rafe would roll his eyes n slur a “shuddup — nee’da spen’ some time w’my pussy.” n then he dives right in, pulling your shorts to the side to lap at your sticky folds. honestly believe that man would sleep in pussy if he could 🤷♀️
on the other hand though … i don’t think he usually gives head. yeah, he’s fucking good at it, but he generally saves it for special occasions, when you’ve been so good that he has no reason not to reward you. dangles it over your head all the time to try get you to behave, n once you’ve proved to him you deserve it, you’re in for the time of your fucking life.
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hi victoria!!! i love ur pogue!sweetheart!reader and i was wondering if u could do a lil hurt/comfort thing where one of rafes friends tells reader she talks too much/is too loud and she gets super upset? i’m a super big crybaby and i talk a LOT and i’d love to see how you write how rafey defends n comforts her :,)
warnings: protective!rafe, topper and kelce are pretty mean in this one >:(, rafe defends you <3, sight angst, fluff, rafe being the king of reassurance
a/n: i have personal beef with anyone who tells ppl to quiet down when they’re excited for something, or just naturally outgoing. also idk how to play poker so excuse the way i explained it if it’s incorrect lol
before you, friday nights were always reserved for rafe and his friends, the group of them either going out for a beer or staying in and betting money on card games. but now? rafe spent his friday nights buried inside of you, both of you laughing and kissing each other in the dark until one of you fell asleep first. and rafe wouldn’t have it any other way. his friends however, weren’t very fond of your boyfriend choosing you over them.
which would explain their impromptu visit while you two were mid-makeout session. “so this is why she has you locked away, huh?” you jumped, rafe covering you with a throw blanket as he slipped his shirt on. “what the fuck, guys?!” rafe glared at kelce and topper, your skin hot with embarrassment. “you left the door unlocked, playboy.” topper pushed a twelve pack of beers into rafe’s chest, the pair of friends walking to the kitchen.
“are you okay, baby?” rafe leaned down, wanting nothing more than to sucker punch his idiot friends for making you feel mortified. “i’m in my bra and panties!” you whispered, scrambling up from the couch and running up the stairs to rafe’s bedroom. rafe pinched the bridge of his nose, cursing under his breath before meeting topper and kelce in the kitchen. “y’all should’ve called me or something.” his tone was harsh, kelce holding his hands up defensively.
“she has you so pussy whipped bro, would you have even answered?” no, the answer was no. “it doesn’t matter, you two shouldn’t have walked in like that.” topper scoffed, popping open a can of beer. “chill, man, we just came to see our boy,” kelce slapped rafe’s shoulder, “and beat your ass at poker.” he added. rafe laughed, muttering a ‘not a chance.’ before going upstairs to check on you. “y/n?” you were fixing your disheveled hair, your lips still swollen from your previous activities.
“hey..” you turned, rafe pulling you in for a hug. “why don’t you come downstairs? be my lucky charm for the game we’re gonna play.” you shook your head, recalling topper’s words from earlier; ‘so this is why she has you locked away, huh?’ locked away? really? “i better not, you should go have your ‘bro’ time, i know it’s been awhile..” you smiled, hoping he didn’t catch the way your gaze faltered. he did. “i want you with me.” he pecked the tip of your nose, your eyes shutting momentarily.
“what if they don’t, though?” rafe was already dressing you, waving off your words. “well then they can leave.” he shrugged. you sighed, letting him walk you downstairs where topper and kelce had the game set up on the table. “the girl scout is joining us?” you didn’t miss the way topper exchanged looks with the boy on his right. “yes, she is. is there a problem?” kelce mumbled a ‘no.’, followed by an awkward clearing of his throat.
rafe pulled you onto his lap, the guys starting the game as you rested your head against his chest. you didn’t know a thing about poker, your lips quirking every time your boyfriend shouted excitedly. “there’s no way!” topper slammed his losing cards on the table, “i have nothing!” kelce was getting frustrated, the chances of him winning decreasing with each turn. “if i flip this card and it’s right, i take all of this.” the guys had already put in well over four hundred dollars, the tension in the room incredibly thick.
“with this money we’ll get you that mixer you been wanting, how does that sound?” you nodded, both you and rafe leaning forward in anticipation. as soon as rafe turned his last card over, you screamed, jumping up as topper and kelce heads fell down in defeat. it was the first time you had even opened your mouth tonight, and kelce wasted no time in shutting you down. “calm down, do you really have to be so loud?” your smile dropped, along with rafe’s. “forreal.” topper glared at you before pushing the money in your direction.
“what’s up y’all’s asses? she’s just cheering,” rafe pulled you to his side, “just a reminder that you two came here on your own accord and interrupted us, not the other way around.” in that moment you felt like a little girl again, always having someone to tell you to quiet down and suppress your excitement. you couldn’t help the tears from welling in your eyes, their judgmental looks making you want to disappear. prior to you and rafe being together, topper and kelce had always been nice to you, but all of that seemed to go out the door when your boyfriend stopped participating in their little get togethers.
“we hardly see you anymore, bro, we just don’t understand why she can’t lay off sometimes.” topper looked over at you, his jaw ticking as rafe laughed bitterly. you couldn’t believe your ears. if only they knew how much you encouraged rafe to hang out with them. “has it ever occurred to you that maybe i rather spend my time with my girlfriend than hanging out with you two? get the fuck out of my house.” topper and kelce looked like they were at a loss for words, both of them apologizing to you under their breath.
“and not that it matters anymore, ‘cause you two are so convinced that she has me trapped in her evil lair somewhere, but she encouraged me to come down here by myself before i dragged her along with me. you don’t even know what you’re talking about.” rafe basically pushed them out before shouting, “and i’m keeping the beers assholes!”
rafe shut the front door, making sure to lock it this time before he scooped you up in his arms. “don’t cry, sweetheart, they’re both idiots.” you sniffled, laughing softly. rafe smiled at the fact that he knew how to make you feel better. “talk my ear off while i order that mixer, i love hearing your voice.”
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Like her mama || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader
Summary: inspired by this TikTok sound
Warnings: none!! just fluff :)
Word count: 1,416
MASTERLIST
divider by @h-aewo
As you turn from the sink, water dripping from the freshly washed fruit in your strainer, Topper’s voice interrupts your thoughts. "Need some help with that?" he asks, his tone friendly and familiar. You glance over your shoulder, offering him a warm smile.
"I'm all good, thanks, Top," you reply, your eyes twinkling with gratitude. He nods and takes a seat on the nearby stool, settling in comfortably. Your attention shifts to the pool outside, where Rafe, Mabel, and Kelce are enjoying the morning sun.
"Everything alright out there?" you ask, your curiosity genuine as you look to Topper for reassurance. He glances outside, a slight smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, they’re all good. The water’s really nice," he says with a chuckle.
You turn back toward the pool just in time to see Rafe holding Mabel in his arms, her tiny pink bucket hat slightly askew, too big for her small head. You wave, a soft giggle escaping your lips when Rafe lifts Mabel’s hand to mimic your wave, though you’re certain she can’t actually see you.
Topper can’t help but chuckle along with you. "Can’t believe she’ll be seven months next week," he remarks, his tone tinged with amazement. You let out a small sigh as you begin slicing the oranges, arranging them neatly on a platter. "Don’t remind me," you reply with a soft laugh. "She’s growing up so fast."
The two of you continue chatting, the conversation flowing easily until Rafe strolls into the kitchen. His hair is damp, the blonde strands clinging to his forehead, and tiny droplets of water trail down his chest and stomach, glistening in the soft light.
"Hi, baby," he greets you, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your cheek. "Hi," you respond, your smile widening at his touch. Rafe’s eyes drift down to the platter you’re preparing. "That looks amazing," he comments, quickly snatching a strawberry and popping it into his mouth before you can protest. You shake your head playfully, amused by his antics.
"Is Mabel all right?" you ask, glancing at him as he leans casually against the counter. "Mmhmm," he hums in affirmation, then suggests with a grin, "You should come in the water after this." You chuckle softly. "I will, I will," you promise, as he leans in for another quick kiss before heading back outside.
Topper watches him go, shaking his head with a smirk. "Rafe’s a complete softie now, huh?" he comments, clearly amused by the transformation in his friend. You snort, unable to hold back your laughter. "Maybe for us. But he still loves arguing with his sisters," you say with a fond smile, recalling the endless bickering between Rafe and his siblings.
Topper’s expression brightens with sudden recollection. "Did I end up tell you what happened this morning at the shops?" he asks, piquing your curiosity. "No? What happened?" you ask, looking up at him, eager to hear the story.
~
Flashback….
“Is she awake?” Rafe asks as he pulls his G-Wagon into a parking spot in front of the store. The engine’s hum fades as he shifts into park, and Kelce leans over to peer into the baby carrier. Mabel, with her big doe eyes, stares back at him, her tiny mouth busy with her pacifier.
“Wide awake,” Kelce reports with a chuckle, meeting her gaze with a grin. The three of them exit the car; Rafe decides against the stroller, opting to scoop Mabel into his arms instead. After all, they were only planning a quick stop. Mabel clings to him, her small hands gripping his shirt as she takes in her surroundings.
As they approach the store, Topper slips his oversized sunglasses onto Mabel’s little face. The glasses are comically large, sliding down her tiny nose, and the sight of it makes both Topper and Kelce snicker. They quickly pull out their phones, snapping a photo of the moment.
Rafe, oblivious to their antics at first, glances over his shoulder when he hears their muffled laughter. “You guys are idiots,” he says, shaking his head, though he can’t suppress the smile that tugs at his lips when he sees Topper’s sunglasses barely hanging on Mabel’s face. As her uncles continue to laugh, Mabel lets out a delighted giggle, her tiny hands reaching up to grasp at the sunglasses.
As they step into the shop, all three boys lift their sunglasses from their noses and perch them on top of their heads. The cool air inside the store is a welcome contrast to the warmth outside. “What are we getting again?” Kelce asks, glancing around as they enter.
Rafe pulls out his phone, scrolling through the list you had sent him. “Y/n gave me a little list,” he replies, quickly scanning the items before reading them aloud. Kelce nods and heads off towards the fruit section, while Rafe, Topper, and Mabel make their way down another aisle to gather the remaining items.
As they pass by the toy section, Rafe can’t resist stopping, his eyes drawn to the colourful display. Mabel’s attention is instantly caught by the toys on the shelves, her small hands reaching out eagerly. “You want that one? What about this too—” Rafe starts, picking up a soft toy, but he’s interrupted by a voice from behind them.
“Hey,” the voice says, drawing their attention. Rafe turns to find a girl, probably around their age or a bit younger, standing a few steps away. Her smile is bright, but there’s something in her eyes that makes Topper instantly wary. He notices the way her gaze lingers on Rafe before shifting to Mabel.
“Oh my goodness, what a cute baby you have!” she exclaims, her voice overly sweet, dripping with an eagerness that Rafe recognises all too well. It’s the tone of someone trying just a bit too hard to make an impression.
Without missing a beat, Rafe shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, my wife and I make pretty cute babies, huh?” he responds, his tone cool and dismissive, the question hanging in the air as more rhetorical than anything. He turns his attention back to Mabel, who is now clutching the toy he had picked up, her little fingers wrapped tightly around it. He places it in the shopping cart without sparing the girl another glance.
Topper stifles a grin, barely containing his amusement as they walk away, leaving the girl standing there, her plan clearly foiled. As they continue down the aisle, Rafe mutters under his breath, “The audacity,” his voice laced with mild annoyance, though a small smile still plays on his lips.
Topper bursts into laughter. “You handled that very well, didn’t he, Mabel?” he says, leaning over to tickle Mabel’s tummy. She giggles in response, her tiny hands gripping Rafe’s shirt as she hides her face, her laughter a sweet, infectious sound that makes both men smile even wider.
Rafe glances down at his daughter, his expression softening as he leans in to press a series of tender kisses on the side of her forehead. “Yeah, we don’t need any of that nonsense, do we, baby girl?” he murmurs, his voice overflowing with affection. Mabel giggles softly, her tiny hand reaching up to touch his face, and Rafe smiles, the warmth in his eyes evident as they continue with their shopping.
~
End of flashback...
A smile tugs at your lips as Topper finishes his story, the amusement clear in your eyes. His recount of Rafe's quick wit and protective nature at the store had you both chuckling. The memory lingers, bringing a soft warmth to your heart as you place the final pieces of fruit on the platter.
Topper grabs the colourful tray, balancing it with ease as he heads outside to join the others by the pool. Outside, Mabel is floating happily in a small inflatable ring, her tiny hands splashing the water as Rafe gently moves her around. His smile is wide, the pure joy on his face unmistakable as he watches her delight.
Your hands reach up to start unbuttoning Rafe's oversized button-up shirt that you had used as cover up over your bikini. You step into the pool, feeling the cool water contrast with the warmth of the day, and tie your hair up into a bun.
Rafe glances up at you, a playful glint in his eyes as you wade towards them. "Look, Mabel, Mumma's here," he says with a grin, his voice soft and affectionate. Hearing his words, Mabel turns her head, her big eyes lighting up at the sight of you. A gummy smile spreads across her face, and you can’t help but giggle at her reaction.
You move closer, lifting her gently from the floatie and pressing a kiss to her cheek. "You having fun, Bels?" you coo softly, spinning her lightly in the water. She babbles in response, her excitement clear as her little legs kick with glee. Rafe watches with a smile tugging at his lips, his gaze shifting between you and Mabel.
"I just realised you two are matching," he comments, noting your pink bikini and Mabel’s pink bucket hat that’s just a little too big for her. A playful grin spreads across your face. "I planned it," you tease, giving him a wink. Rafe chuckles, moving closer to wrap an arm around your waist and pulling both you and Mabel into a warm embrace.
He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before leaning down to tickle Mabel’s tummy. Her infectious giggles echo around the pool, her little hands splashing the water playfully. You and Rafe laugh along with her, the happiness of the moment filling the air.
As you hold Mabel close, feeling the warmth of her tiny body against you, you glance up at Rafe, a soft smile playing on your lips. "We made a pretty cute baby, huh?" you say, your voice filled with pride and affection, echoing the words he had casually tossed out at the shops earlier.
Rafe’s eyes light up with recognition, a smirk forming as he remembers the moment. "Yeah, we sure did. The cutest baby" he agrees, leaning in to kiss you tenderly.
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flashing rafe during an argument.
ᡣ𐭩 𝐀/𝐍: this is based off a comment i got on my recent blurb about rafe being a tits man! -> link!
you sat down on the bed, letting out a sigh as you slowly run at your temples. you and rafe had been arguing on and off all day, and at this point - you weren’t even sure what the hell you were arguing about. it’s like every little thing would set him off and a whole new argument would blow over.
“the fuck did i tell you about walking away from me?” rafe seethed as he followed after you into the bedroom. a quiet groan escaped your mouth, your fingers still rubbing at your temples. he stood there, a hand on his hip as he stared at you expectantly. okay, sassy.
when you don’t answer, rafe started rambling about what you had done to piss him off and your head was fucking throbbing. you just needed him to shut up for five minutes. so your fingers left your temples and hooked around the hem of your shirt, lifting your shirt just enough to let your tits out. you were desperate for him to stop.
“i mean jesus, y/n -“ rafe had started but immediately shut up the second he saw your breasts bounce as they released from your shirt. you tilt your head back, letting out a sigh of a relief at the final peace and quiet. still sitting on the edge of the bed, you hear rafe shuffle around and when you tilt your head back down, you see him on his knees between your legs.
“so fuckin’ perfect,” he whispers, his thumb brushing over your nipple as he stares as your tits in awe. your eyes flutter shut as your nipples harden under his touch. he gently sucks a hardened nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the flesh. “so fucking perfect,” he whimpers around your nipple, repeating his earlier words. his other hand comes up, immediately squeezing and kneading your other breast.
rafe’s phone dings from an incoming text message. he lets out a low growl, hastily taking his phone out of his back pocket. but if you thought he was taking your nipple out of his mouth to do that, you’re sadly mistaken. his tongue flicks repeatedly over your hard nipple as he reads the text message from topper. he rolls his eyes and sends him a text back, tongue still swirling and flickering over your nipple.
“time to play with my girls. fuck off. 🍒” his text to topper read.
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texting bf!rafe <3 pt. 4
part 1 here | part 2 here | part 3 here
i love it when he’s a little sassy shit 🤭
» masterlist
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Rafe has a thing for hickies. No, actually he’s obsessed with marking you up. Always making sure your neck, chest, stomach, thighs and breasts are covered in his bites.
And he loves that you can’t always hide them. How could you, in the hot OBX weather. You eventually get used to it.
He loves it when guys stare at them, his love bites on his girl. He loves it when you scold him after a heated make-out session and wince when you run your fingers over them.
And not just hickies. He has a thing for every visible mark on your or his body. Your scratches on his back. Your bruised knees. Sometimes he’ll just bite down on your arm or shoulder while you’re messing around because why not?
Your bruised wrists from him holding your hands above your head a little too hard, marks from where his hand squeezed your flesh too much. His swollen lips from how much you kissed him.
He’s so obsessed with you, let it be seen.
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rafe is a tits man.
₊˚⊹ ᰔ so bestie asked me the other night which of drew’s characters were an ass or tit man. rafe is a hard tits guy imo and bestie agreed. so here’s this nonsense hehehe @anqeliclust
rafe appreciated both your ass and tits, but boy was that man utterly obsessed with your tits. he’d come up behind you, immediately cupping your breasts with his large hands, placing a gentle kiss to the side of your neck.
your tits were his tits, okay? let’s not get it confused. rafe would be sleeping with his head on your chest, his hand reaching up to grab a handful of your boob, “mine.” he’d mutter in his sleep. rafe always had his hand(s) on your tit(s) while the two of you slept. his comfort tits.
rafe was always staring at your tits. even in a simple t-shirt, if your nipples were poking the fabric, he was staring. actually, scratch that. he’s staring at your chest regardless, because he knows exactly what’s hidden beneath that loose t-shirt. and holy fuck, he’s fantasizing about ‘em constantly.
“rafe, what hell are you staring at?” topper asked, noticing the way rafe’s eyes would be glued to your chest. “mind your business, top.” rafe grumbled, his eyes still glued to the way your breasts looked so perfect even hidden behind his t-shirt on you. “are you hoping they’ll pop out if you keep starin’ at ‘em?” “maybe.”
if rafe was stressed, which lets be honest - is most of the times, he’s immediately gripping and squeezing your tits. at this point, they were his own little stress balls perfectly attached to his beautiful girlfriend. “rafey, what are you doing?” “shhh, bad day with work.” he’d wave it off. “god, they’re so fuckin’ perfect.” he’d mumble, watching the way his hands squeezed at your full breasts through the fabric of your sundress.
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rafe being the handyman for your apartment complex -> based on this post
warnings: icky + sleazy behavior, no real smut, 18+ mdni a/n: bit longer than I meant & i low key hate this but oh well
The keys on his belt loop jingled as he made his way to apartment 4B, chewing on tobacco and muttering something along the lines that today was supposed to be his day off. His fist made contact with the door, briefly knocking but there was no answer.
His patience starts to wear thin, his boot thumping against the floor as he knocks harder. Just as he turns around, ready to walk away, he hears the sweet sound of your voice, “Hello?”.
Rafe turns around, his eyes raking your body, you looked just about the sweetest thing he’s laid his eyes on. Your nipples poked through the oversized shirt you had on and your hair was in a messy bun. “Sorry I didn’t answer sooner, I just woke up” you sighed, trying to rub the sleep away from your eyes.
He smirked at your sweet and innocent demeanor, “S’not a problem, doll face. I was sent to fix an issue you’re having with the sink.”.
You didn’t say a word, your face burning from the nickname, “You gonna let me in?”.
“Oh, right, sorry” you ushered an apology, stepping aside to let him into the apartment. You close the door behind him, “Kitchen or bathroom?” he questions. You turn to face him and it wasn’t until now that he realized how small you were compared to him. His cock stiffened in his jeans at the sight of your big, doe eyes looked up at him, “Huh?”.
“The sink” his voice was gruff and you felt a shiver run up your spine as he stared down at you, “Oh, um, the bathroom”. He looked at you expectantly and you realized you had to show him where your bathroom was, muttering another apology under your breath.
As you led him to the bathroom, his eyes were glued to the hem of your oversized shirt that stopped just a little below the cheeks of your ass. He could tell you were wearing nothing but a pair of panties under the oversized shirt.
He steps into the bathroom, groaning to himself lightly at the intoxicating yet sweet smell of your body wash floods his nostrils. His toolbox clanks against the cool tile floor as he sets it down, “What’s the issue you’re havin’?” he murmured.
You frown, “It keeps leaking, I had to remove everything from the cabinet. I can’t even use the sink without water getting everywhere”. Rafe’s eyes were glued to your soft lips, watching them move as you rambled and all he could think about is stuffing your mouth full with his cock, “You’re ramblin’, doll face”.
You squeak out an apology, your face burning from embarrassment, “Think you could show me the problem?” he gestured to the sink and you nodded, moving past him to open the cabinet under the sink.
Rafe knew what the problem was based on what you described and from the maintenance ticket he received but that wasn’t stopping him from wanting to see you on your knees, bent over. You can feel his gaze on you but don’t think much of it as you bend over.
“Where is the leaking comin’ from?” he grumbled as he stood behind you. “Here” you pointed, turning your head to look back at him to see he was squinting, pointing his flashlight towards the pipe, “Where?”.
When you leaned forward more to show him where the leaking came from, your shirt rode up just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your baby pink panties, “Do you see it?”, your saccharine-like voice rang through his ears, still facing away from him.
He licked his lips, eyes locked on the delicate panties around your hips, “Mhm, I see what I was lookin’ for, doll face”.
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i’m sure someone’s said this, but this is so like sexy dilf husband rafe to me. he’s a little aged up, is cocky and a tad bit arrogant. he’s athletic, works out, takes care of his health, always looks really fucking good. he works under his father at cameron development, making tons of money. the kids are in high school and being cameron’s they are of course popular. he’s a proud football dad to an all star son and a cheer dad to his spoiled little princess of a daughter. he’s the man that all the moms have a secret thing for, and husband’s wish they could be like. he’s a young dad, but gives his kids a life most don’t have. expensive vacations, designer clothes, and riding to school in luxury cars.
he is absolutely crazy about you too, his gorgeous wife and mother to his children. the two of you are like the hot young parents with beautiful kids and lots of money to show off. he spoils you rotten, making sure you have everything you want and need without question. and… just because the two of you are older with kids, doesn’t slow this man down at all. he will give you the same pipe for hours on end until you are a crying mess and he’s given you multiple cream pies.
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god loves you, but not enough to save you - bo sinclair
bo sinclair x fem!reader
please read warnings !
summary: bo sees you as his next victim. you see him as your last hope
warnings: stockholm syndrome speedrun, implied domestic abuse, language, mentions of death, blood, alcohol and smoking, some religious references sprinkled in, bo is bo
word count: 2k
your eyes fluttered open as you felt your body thud onto a chair with a creak, the metal frame unstable under any amount of weight. it wouldn’t break though. he tightened all the bolts himself; checked everything so nothing would go wrong. as unorganized as this hellscape of a room seemed to anyone else, bo knew where everything was; every pair of pliers, every blade. he was meticulous, sometimes damn near a perfectionist. not that any his guests were here to admire the furnishings.
in the rare instance that things didn’t go how he planned, he himself became unpredictable; became even more terrifying. but this was different. something in your eyes was different, and it drove him mad.
you didn’t scream, just looked around frantically to gather what was happening. everything that had happened. your ankles were taped together, and you were in a basement. your head hurt like you’d been hit with something, as you remembered the road trip you had been on with your boyfriend, nathan.
you remembered the washed out road
the gas station
oh god, where was nathan?
the man from the gas station….. bo…
“yeah sweetheart?” your focus snapped to the face of the man currently restraining you to the chair, a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. how much had you said out loud? why was he doing this?
“please - you don’t have to-“ his hand snapped over your mouth, the smell of dirt and gasoline filling your mouth and nose.
“shhhh, if you scream, i’ll have to hurt ya,” he cooed, and you shook your head gently. with your one free hand that remained unbound to the chair, you gripped his wrist desperately, but your touch was gentle; gentler than any touch he had felt in years. he nearly faltered for a second, your fingers hovering over the scars on his wrist. had you noticed them? he wondered.
his hesitation allowed you to softly pull his hand away from your mouth.
“p…please, you have to help me. nathan-“
“you think if you bat your pretty little eyelashes at me i’ll let you go back to your boyfriend?” he taunted, but your eyes went wide and you shook your head, frantically this time, and your hand clung onto his arm tighter now. he pulled it from your grip, looking at your face with a confused expression. what game were you playing?
“no - please, you don’t understand - you have to help me,” you repeated, and as he studied your face, he noticed a smudge on your cheekbone. your skin looked different; he spent enough time looking at the damn wax figures to know what a persons skin looked like. he reached his hand towards you slowly, dragging his thumb between your parted lips, wetting the pad of his finger with your saliva. he tasted of iron, and you wondered if he noticed the way you licked your lips when he retracted his hand.
you winced as he gently wiped the digit across your cheek, removing the makeup to reveal a dark bruise, masterfully disguised behind layers of concealer.
something clicked in bo’s head.
something terrible.
something cruel.
here he was, taking you captive and fully intending to kill you. here you were, begging him to be your saving grace. he smiled darkly, your eyes wide as they pleaded with his.
“now that’s no way to treat a lady,” he clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “he do this to ya, sweetheart?” he asked, making his voice sound so sweet, you almost believed it was sincere.
“please,” you begged again. maybe if you said it enough times, you would get through to him. a human part of him, if there even was one. “i’ll do anything you want. just please…. he’ll kill me.”
his rough hands held either side of your face, cradling it as he leaned over your body, caging you beneath him. you welcomed it, like a safety blanket.
this had never happened before. he hadn’t even done anything to you yet, and you were already giving yourself over to him. did you not get it? did you not understand that whatever had been done to you, oh lord he could be
so
much
worse.
it was almost too easy. the chase was half of the game for him. what was the point if you gave up so soon?
he thought about killing you right then. sure, that was no fun - he didn’t enjoy killing people quickly. but it would be so easy to just snap your neck, so delicate in his grasp. just one little twist-
“bo…” you whispered, and his eyes focused again, having zoned out looking at your throat, his chest heaving up and down with adrenaline thinking about just how easily you had surrendered to him. he hadn’t realized that he had leaned closer, so close that he could smell your strawberry chapstick.
you could smell the cigarettes on his breath; the whiskey on his tongue. he captured your mouth with his, teeth tugging roughly at your bottom lip as your heart pounded in your chest.
you shouldn’t like this.
you shouldn’t want it.
but the taste of him makes your head spin.
you reach to touch him with your free hand, but his own hand catches your wrist as you reach for him. maybe it’s instinct; he thinks your fighting back.
you should be.
you know damn well you should be.
the taste of iron fills your mouth again, but it’s not his fingers this time. his teeth have pierced into your lip, staining the kiss with crimson.
“he ain’t never gonna touch you again,” bo whispers as he nuzzles the side of his head against yours, and tears creep down your face.
“promise?”
“i swear to god. he’s never gonna lay another finger on you.”
and he won’t.
you believe him.
this time bo lets you reach for him, your fingers clinging to the front of his stained work shirt that your knuckles ached. the restraints on your other wrist clang against the metal of the chair as you pull at them, wanting to hold onto him. he undoes the leather strap and you reach up, pushing his hat off of his head so you can tangle your fingers through his dark hair. it’s greasy between your fingertips, but you don’t care.
“you look so pretty, darling.” blood stains your lips and your eyelashes are stuck together with tears. you stare up at him like he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, and he realizes that you’re long gone already; he’s managed to sink his hooks into you and all it took was one little promise. the devil stands before you and you look at him like he hung the stars. lucifer was once an angel after all, wasn’t he?
a sound above you causes bo to cover your mouth again, gentler this time as he looks up through the grate in the ceiling. footsteps shuffle across the driveway of the gas station, and nathans boots drop dirt through the grate and onto your hair. you screw your eyes shut as you cling to bo, who looks at your cowering form beneath him and smiles.
“i’ll be right back darling,” his hand is still on your mouth as you nod at him with wet eyes, hands trembling as he slowly pulls away.
the room feels cold and empty as soon as he’s gone, his boots heavy as they stomp up the stairs, locking the door behind him.
you breathe a careful sigh of relief.
he’s gone, he can’t hurt me.
he’s gone, he can’t hurt me.
nathan’s gone, bo won’t let him hurt me.
with your hands no longer restrained, you undid the duct tape around your ankles, pulling your knees up under your chin and wrapping your arms around them.
footsteps descend the stairs, heavy again as the stairs creak and the lock clicks open.
you should be scared of him.
you should be scared of the knife in his hand. the blood on his wrist.
you should be scared because he was going to kill you, and he still might. but for now, he doesn’t.
at least for right now, he is your saviour.
he tosses the weapon aside, and it clatters onto the metal table next to him. you watch as his fingers slide a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of his breastpocket, and pull one out with his teeth. he lights the end and walks over to you, his fingers tilting your chin up to look at him.
your hand reaches up to wipe a splatter of blood off the side of his neck, and you almost don’t notice the way bo freezes for just a second as you touch him. his hand wraps around your wrist and brings your fingers to his lips, sucking the end of each finger past his lips until all the blood is gone, his eyes never leaving yours.
god, the way you look at him.
he’s never seen anything like it. it isn’t fear.
it’s a look of devotion.
he offers you the cigarette and you take it between your fingers with your other hand.
“you ready to go home?” he asks, and your eyebrows furrow in confusion.
“home?” you asked, taking a drag of his cigarette. you didn’t want it, you just hoped it would taste like him, but it just burnt your throat.
“the house, silly,” he smiled, and it almost looked sincere, like he was amused by you. “just up the road?” he was the bo you had met at the gas station again. the charming one. the sweet one.
the house, you thought. that’s right. he had taken you there to get the part you needed to fix nathan’s car, and the next thing you knew you were waking up here. “did you hit your head or something?” he teased, like he hadn’t been the one who knocked you out in the first place. he walked closer to take the cigarette from your grip, the ash falling onto your lap and sizzling against the layer of sweat on your bare skin. he placed a kiss on the top of your head before extending his empty hand to you, helping you out of the chair.
you followed bo up the stairs and realized you had been beneath the gas station, the sun long set outside. you didn’t know how long you had been down there.
“watch your step,” he mumbled, and you looked down at the pool of blood on the floor, and the trail of it, like something had been dragged across the floor and out of the store.
“nathan….” you asked, the word tasted vile in your mouth. you wiped your lips with the back of your hand for good measure.
“vincent took him out of here. no need to worry, darling,” he promised.
“vincent?” you asked, as he pulled you behind him by your hand, his calloused fingers rough as they interlocked with yours. you liked the way your hand felt in his.
“my brother- you’ll meet him later, he’s workin’ right now. he’s pretty quiet but i think you’ll like him.”
“okay,” you smiled - the first time you had smiled since you woke up in that basement. bo smiled back; and while it looked genuine, it was evil.
he knew he had you right where he wanted you.
and it had been
so
easy.
he hadn’t even done anything that he wouldn’t have done anyways - all he did was kill nathan.
but in your eyes he had saved your life.
how twisted is that?
bo tried to kill you, and here you were clinging to his arm, like you’d float away if you let go. as if he was the only thing holding you to the ground.
and he was. and he knew it.
there was no saving you now.
not when you believed you’d already been saved.
bo froze as your feet sped up to catch up with him, and your arms circled around his waist.
you were hugging him?
heaven help you, you really were a lost cause.
“thank you,” you mumbled, your head buried in the front of his shirt. bo laughed to himself, and let his arms wrap around you.
“you shouldn’t thank me, sweetheart,” he replied, the double meaning to his statement flying over your head. “what kind of man would i be if i didn’t help you? my momma - she raised me better than that.”
he couldn’t help but smile to himself. “you can meet her too, one day.”
you smiled up at him even though you didn’t get the joke, and he leaned down to kiss your lips. you decided you would never get tired of the taste of his mouth on yours. his lips like a drug.
“you gonna let me walk or we gonna stand out here forever?” he laughed, as you hadn’t let go of him yet.
“just don’t leave me,” you asked pathetically. you would have got on your knees and begged if you had to, even if the gravel would’ve scraped your knees bloody.
“believe me, darling,” he grinned. “i aint never lettin’ you get away.”
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nsfw, minors dni please! ᥫ᭡。 ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚
logan who loves a crybaby!reader so he can coo and tut at her and take her in his big arms and shush her. he loves that you're so sweet & sensitive because it really makes him feel like he's protecting you in a world where he feels like everything he does is wrong :(( and if he gets hard from hearing your little whimpers and feeling you cling to his tank top so tightly while you sniffle, so what?! he knows no one else would ever be so gentle with you, patting your head and calling you his good, sweet little girl, chanting "i know pup, i know" and if he were a different man, a worse man, he'd stop subtly adjusting the crotch of his jeans and instead split you open on his cock... give you something to really cry about...
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x-men 2000!logan x bimbo!reader is so personal to me <3
slightly nsfw: 🪷
he was standing with scott and a few students on the first landing when he saw you; skipping down the steps of xavier's school, big bouncy hair and shiny lip gloss that catches in the light streaming from the big, glass window. you're clutching your resume in one hand, and the sweetest little pink coach nolita barrel bag in the other as you happily chew on bubblegum— the smell wafting over to logan instantly.
and logan reads you like a book— even from a solid 5 feet away. your curvy legs & hips covered by the softest baby blue velour sweatpants, your tummy slightly on display. at this point, he's long forgotten whatever scott was piously rambling about to the students (and if he's being honest he was never truly listening at all) and logan's full attention is devoted to you. you and your sweet smile and gleeful squeal at getting a job as a mutant teacher, you and your long nails clacking against the old wooden railing as you descend, you and your little baby tee covered by the same soft blue, velour fabric in a mini zip up hoodie. and logan just stares, unable to move for a second. he doesn't even register he is staring until you're turning to him with a pearly smile and a little finger wave, one that he immediately mirrors (much to scott's amused confusion). you whip around, walking to the door, and logan knows he's hit his final straw. he watches the sway in your hips, and your small, excited steps leading you away as the bedazzled "juicy" written across your ass grows further away. the sight has him chasing you out the door— walking him like a dog before you even knew his name.
and once you two get together? oh EVERYONE knows. i mean, you're the perfect girl for logan. hyperfeminine, sweet and a tad ditzy, but intelligent and strong in your own way. soon your little mini skirts start to mirror the colors of logan's flannels, and your lipstick looks a tad more smeared in the mornings, and some of the other teachers even notice a little golden anklet around your leg, displaying a heart shaped "L" inside.
and logan absolutely eats it up. he loves watching you put on your makeup in the morning, makin you sit on his lap while he braids your hair and you ramble about certain products. he's constantly needy for you too. your sweet scent lingering in the hallways, and storm swears that at one point he blissfully closed his eyes at the sound of your heels approaching him in the hallway. he loves the dynamic between you both— him a pinnacle of masculinity, and strength. but you, you're soft and girly, so girly that it makes him hard just hearing your breathy sighs throughout the day.
he can barely function when you start tapping your foot during one of charles' weekly morning meetings, your bright sparkly pink pencil between your lips— covered in the lipstick he chose for you this morning. your wedges tap against the desk as you grow antsy, and logan has to press his hand against the seam of his jeans, his other hand reaching out to grab your anklet clad leg to pause your movement. and when you turn to him, a little gasp and big wide eyes, he has to stifle the grunt in his fist, whispering into your bejweled ear "c'mon baby, you're killin' me, sit still and i'll take care'a you later."
he's utterly obsessed with you, always saying how you're his "best girl," his "little cherry pie," his "dumb baby".
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being "too young for logan" which means you're too inexperienced. he'll give you what you want, fuck you on his cock like how you've been begging, but he won't do it immediately. no, he'll make you work for it, torture you with just promises and handfuls of his dick without even sinking just the tip.
but he sees how much you desire him, and he feels the same. he can't resist sitting you on his lap and kissing you until you were leaking between your legs. he'll fuck your cunt with his fingers until he could hear it, and he'll let you slide yourself over the rough denim of his jeans.
he sits back and enjoys the sight, one hand pressed into the mattress and the other holding your waist. his eyebrows a little lifted, lips pulled into a amusing smile as he watches you make a complete mess on the thigh of his jeans.
"keep going just like that," he tells you, gripping your cheek in his palm whenever you falter. "look at me. yeah, that's it."
he lets you kiss him, doing whatever it is that you need to cum. after all, he does feel a little bad, it's not your fault that your cunt wouldn't be able to take him. he just doesn't want to hear your insistent whining when you inevitably struggle to take him.
still, he promises, "one day we'll get there."
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80s pornstar logan; age gap; pornstar reader x pornstar logan; doggy; brat!reader MDNI 18+ w/ LOGAN HOWLETT
logan doesn't trust you.
he doesn't know you well enough for you to have gained his trust, but he refuses to get to know you. there's no point. in logan's eyes, there's no reason for you to get comfortable.
you won't be here for long.
he doesn't care how much the studio believes in you, he doesn't believe in you. how could he? you're so fucking green that he can smell it on you. only starred in a couple movies before this one, both nothing compared to the expansive record that he has.
gum-smacking, lip gloss shining under the sun, flowy shirts, and tiny shorts. compared to his cigars, fitted jeans, and plaid, the two of you are polar opposites. even though logan sees something in you. that same arrogance he had at your age. it just looks different on you.
you confront him first. standing beside his car in the studio parking lot, resting your hip on the door like it’s your vehicle. you’re blocking the entrance, lazily smacking your gum as you squint at him.
logan doesn’t say anything. he stands there, hands on his hips, his restless fingers tapping against the worn leather of his belt. he shamelessly lets his eyes rake down your body, taking in the natural shape of your tits through your loose shirt, the expanse of your legs barely covered by your tiny shorts. briefly, logan wonders if you’re shaved like some of the other younger girls he’s filmed with.
he finds himself wanting to find out.
he’s wearing his shades, the thin wire-framed ones with brown lenses. he knows they aren’t opaque, he knows you can see the path his eyes take, but he doesn’t care. he holds off a smile when you adjust your stance and scoff.
“what’s your problem with me?”
logan shrugs dismissively.
apparently, his nonchalance upsets you even more. he expects you to give him some speech about how rude he is, how you deserve to be here just as much as he does, how you earned your spot in this production. whatever your little brain can come up with.
but you give him none of that. you push off of logan's truck, step out of his way, and saunter off with a final call of, "see you on wednesday!".
logan lets his eyes linger on the switch in your hips and the shape of your ass.
his eyes find that same spot on wednesday, his view unobstructed now as your bare skin is illuminated underneath the studio lights. he's just staring and he can't stop. his eyes watching the way your skin ripples as he fucks you from behind, following the curve of your back, all the way up to the crown of your head which reaches for him.
he knows at some point he's supposed to grab the ponytail you have. the director wants him to mess it up as much as possible, providing a good contrast from how dolled up you were before. most of that has been done naturally. for some reason, everything with you seems natural. logan's been in the game for a while, he's had to fake scenes before. it's part of the job description, to act according to how the audience would want the sex to go. but with you, logan doesn't think he's been acting at all.
the energy buzzes around his entire body the entire time. he doesn't ever forget that you're both being filmed, it would be hard to, but he loses himself in it. he loses himself in the way you know just what to do. the way you angle your body perfectly according to the camera position, the way you speak to him, the way you're so visibly remembering every single direction you were giving before filming began.
your competence is hot.
by the time filming is over and a production assistant is handing you a warm towel and your robe, logan's fucking spent.
you're just there grinning, watching logan down an entire bottle of water in one go. when he comes up for air, you stand before him, keeping your eyes on his.
"i see why you're known for your stamina," is all you say to him before you turn away and disappear, possibly unaware of the semi that was brewing beneath the towel covering logan's hips.
the next time logan sees you, it's through a headshot. sitting on the casting director's desk, amongst three others, all labeled with names and facing him. he stands there for a second, hands crossed over his chest as he scans every picture.
"we just need to know who you think would be good for the next job," the casting director reiterates, his words smooth as they wrap around logan's mind.
logan doesn’t know why he’s pretending, why he's taking so long to answer a question that he knows the answer to.
he slides your picture up higher than the rest and leaves it at that.
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