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sundrop-writes · 4 months ago

Text

Protective

Isaac Lahey x Fem!Reader

Summary:

During his first full moon, Isaac needs to think of something to ground him - to keep his newfound powers from getting out of control. Derek suggests that he use anger, and he knows that Scott grounds himself with his love for Allison.

Isaac finds something in between - thinking of the anger he feels when you get hurt.

Isaac Lahey x Fem!Reader. Pining Best Friends. Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 2, Episode 9.

Word Count: 2,300

Teen Wolf Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: canon level violence - mentions of Isaac, Erica, and Boyd having to be chained up on the full moon (to avoid hurting themselves and others), mentions of Isaac's abusive father (somewhat graphic descriptions of the abuse that Isaac experienced); Isaac has a self deprecating inner monologue because of the psychological effects of his father's abuse; mentions of Isaac being injured by his father's abuse; the reader also has an abusive father and it's a point on which they related and bonded (and how they became such close friends); at one point the reader describes her abuse as being 'not as bad' as Isaac's abuse (but that is psychological trauma speaking); mentions of the reader experiencing physical and emotional abuse; reader is described as 'pretty girl' at one point in the fic (again, this is very self indulgent); Isaac has a crush on the reader but has never voiced it (it's implied that the reader feels the same way); Isaac and the reader exchange friendly physical affection; emotional angst - Isaac feels powerless for not being able to stop the reader's abuse; I think that's it for this short fic? The themes are on the darker side, but it comes from a personal place for me.

A/N: If you've been following me for any amount of time, then you know I have a thing for sad, abused characters. If you have read my Ellie fic 'My Heart Is The Worst Kind of Weapon' - then you would know why. Isaac is the kind of character I immediately connect to for deeply personal reasons, so watching the entirety of Teen Wolf through for the first time, I couldn't resist writing a fic about him. There will likely be more to come about him, but for now - here is this deeply self indulgent moment inspired by Season 2, Episode 9. If you don't relate to this, I hope you can enjoy it as a distant whumpy fiction, and if you can relate to it - I hope that Isaac can bring you some comfort like he has for me. Much love, happy reading.

...

While the chains rattled against the abandoned subway car and Isaac tried to ignore Erica’s groans of pain from having several large bolts bored into her head, he couldn’t help the question that was rattling around inside of him.

“How do you do it?” Isaac asked Derek as he arranged the chains around his limbs. He was trying to push down the sickly familiarity of it - being restrained. He was trying to tell himself that it actually was for his own good this time, not just a sick punishment given to him by a powerless, unhinged old man. “How do you keep it under control?”

“You have to find an anchor.” Derek told him, firm, determined.

It was nice to focus on the conversation instead of the anxiety rising in his chest, so Isaac pressed on.

“An anchor?” He questioned, unsure what Derek meant. “Like what?”

“Yeah. Something else for you to focus on. For me it's anger.” Derek paused. “But it's not like that for everyone.”

It was immediately obvious to Isaac who Derek was speaking of.

“Scott.”

He had Allison. It was some dreamy romantic bullshit - using his love for his girlfriend to keep from wolfing out. But apparently, it worked well for him.

Derek gave a subtle nod.

Isaac didn’t have anything like that. He didn’t have some cheesy romance to fall back onto. He didn’t have someone declaring a love for him so openly - because he wasn’t worth loving. Even with his father gone, the world had made it very clear that he was just a piece of shit stuck to the bottom of someone’s shoe - a problem being passed around that nobody could seem to solve.

“It just has to be something strong enough to keep your mind present. A strong feeling you can hold onto. Anger, love, resentment, regret, rage. Just find something that works for you.”

Isaac nodded, and Derek went to check that Erica and Boyd were secure as the moonlight came to its full brightness.

…

It got Isaac thinking about you.

You were probably the one person in his life who didn’t think he was a problem. The one person in his life who loved him, even if you didn’t say it out loud.

He had felt all of those things - anger, love, resentment, regret, rage - the last time he had been with you. When he had been sitting in your bathroom, perched on the closed toilet seat lid after an argument with his father. Naturally, the argument had ended with Isaac having a black eye, and a large cut on his cheek from his father's ring colliding with his face.

You were the only person he ever went to. No matter how bad things got, you were the only person he ever told. You were the only person who ever understood. Isaac had found out the hard way that your own father was much the same as his. On the first day of freshman year, he had seen you wearing a sweater when it had been a balmy, sunny day, and he had volunteered to be lab partners with you - partially to get closer to a pretty girl and partially because a gnawing feeling was going off in his stomach.

Even back then - even when he was scrawny and powerless, his instinct to protect you had still been so strong. Even if all he could offer you was a shoulder to cry on and the chocolate bar out of his lunch, he looked at you and he felt the world turning on the simple hope that he could make your day just a bit better. Because he knew, even without words, by the tiredness in your eyes - that you suffered like he did. And he wanted so badly to make it better.

When the two of you were doing an introductory experiment of baking soda and vinegar to cause the classic foaming volcanic reaction, the rubber gloves you had been wearing caused your sleeve to ride up, revealing a menacing purple bruise on your wrist. Isaac spotted it instantly, and when you locked eyes with him, he held nothing but deep understanding there - not shock or even pity. Nothing but deep understanding and warmth.

He held your hand under the table for the rest of class, and you had never wanted to pull away. You felt a unique kind of mourning when the bell rang and you had to part ways.

At lunch that day, you found him under the bleachers by the lacrosse field. Without so much as a word, only a cursory glance around to make sure that nobody else was watching, he pulled up his shirt, revealing an array of horrifying bruises to you - some purplish, some green, some faded yellow - all collected from different points throughout the summer. The time when he had been trapped at home with his father, having nowhere else to go as the man got more aggravated with his presence.

You ran a gentle touch along the wounds - the most gentle touch he had been greeted with since his mother's death, something that easily brought him to tears. And from that moment on, the two of you had a silent understanding. You spent the rest of the lunch hour exchanging ‘war stories’ and laughing with a tainted dark humor about your separate twisted patriarchs. And the next time he was bloodied and bruised, he texted you to meet him under the bleachers in that same spot, and you didn’t hesitate to rush out of bed at three in the morning to get to him.

It became a sacred place for the two of you to escape to when you needed it.

The two of you became a sacred comfort to each other - knowing that there was little escape in telling the police or a guidance counselor, because you had nowhere else to go.

Today, when Isaac called you, you found your house luckily empty. Your mother and your father were away visiting relatives in another state, so when Isaac told you that he needed you, you texted him the all clear to come over to your house for a reprieve. He was lucky to be able to spend the night somewhere else - to get to sleep in your bed, cuddled up close to you for comfort, without fear.

He tried not to wince with pain as you dabbed disinfectant on the large cut across his cheek. He hated seeing you flinch with empathy every time his expression wavered even slightly. He could handle the pain. He could be better than this.

“Isaac.” You sighed his name pitifully, clearly on the edge of tears.

Both of you knew the thoughts that were pulsing thickly through your head, even without you having to speak them.

Isaac didn’t deserve this. You wanted to hurt his father in return. You wished you could take away his pain, you wanted to help him escape from it.

It was a ‘wishful thinking’ conversation that the two of you had dozens of times before. It always ended with you both more upset than when it started, so you swallowed up those thoughts now. But Isaac knew them too well, written across your face and swollen on your lips like the tears brimming your pretty eyes.

You put down the cotton ball you had been using and turned your back to him, poorly hiding your crying as you stiffly wiped off your cheeks.

“What do you want me to say?” He replied, hating that this whole thing had to upset you. “You know how it is.”

To an extent, you didn't. Your father was a screamer. He yelled loud enough to shake the walls, but he rarely escalated to physical violence. You found that you were lucky if you escaped a fight with death threats and tears rather than having hands laid on you. Isaac came to school with fresh bruises every other week - you had to feel that he was worse off than you were.

“We should just go.” You said, feeling bold in your suggestion. It felt obvious - escaping. “We should just run away. Get the hell away from all this.”

You whipped back around, still feeling a terrible twinge of pain and sadness inside you at the bruising across his face, the fact that his cheek was definitely swelling up now.

Isaac frowned. It was a nice dream, and he hated to be the one to dash right through it.

“You know we can't do that.” Isaac sighed. Ever the realist. Of course. “Where the hell would we even go? With what money? No offense, but the couple hundred dollars you have saved up from babysitting isn't gonna get us anywhere.”

“It's over fifteen-hundred.” You told him honestly.

It was a nest egg that you had been sitting on since middle school, hoping to escape your father and never look back. When you met Isaac, you had another thing anchoring you to Beacon Hills, keeping you from buying the bus ticket you had always wanted.

“But you're right. That'll get us - what? A couple of nights at a motel?” You let out a harsh, dry laugh. Trying to relieve some of the tension. “Well… we could go on a vacation? Escape for a few days?” You suggested, sounding hopeful.

The idea of spending time alone with Isaac - a getaway where the two of you could pretend none of it was happening, even for a few days - it sounded like paradise.

Isaac’s mind went to a dream-like vision - having you alone in a hotel room. A bed just for the two of you. Even just getting the chance to sleep peacefully with you, cuddle you, it sounded like a dream.

He had to pull himself back before his mind went to places a friend shouldn’t stray.

“A last hurrah before my dad kills me for running away on him.” Isaac sighed.

The consequences of it would be inevitable. The two of you would have to come back home eventually. He knew that your father would likely feel much the same. He would never forgive himself if you ended up bruised and battered because of something he had encouraged you to do.

You let out a sob then - the thought of Isaac dying by his father's hands had been all too real to you at times. A horror you imagined in your mind over and over again, especially after times he had come to you with half his torso nearly bruised black and he had been unable to move properly for days. His father was a monster, and you didn’t doubt that he would be capable of murder.

Isaac rushed to stand up, and pulled you into a hug. His warmth, his arms surrounding you tightly - it was the only place you ever felt safe. You eagerly gripped him back, missing the wince he let out when you squeezed a bit too hard over one of his bruised ribs. But no - he would never fault you for holding onto him too tightly.

Holding you like this - he felt like he had the world in his arms. Something tight in his chest, telling him that if anything ever happened to you, he would become the same kind of monster that his father was. But in the same way any threat to you made him boil over with rage - you made him gentle. You made him soft and loving. You were the only person in the world who made him feel okay to weep.

He kissed the top of your head, not a stranger to comforting you with affection even though the two of you remained strictly as ‘friends’. As much as he yearned for more - you were a life vest while he was drowning and he wouldn't risk fucking that up just to kiss you and call you his girlfriend. He wouldn't throw any messy feelings into the mix.

“It'll be okay.” He told you.

Coming from his lips, you had to believe it.

“Thank you, Isaac.” You sniffled. And then, something hit you. “You came over here for my help, and now you’re comforting me.” You let out another dry chuckle, clearly resisting the urge to scold yourself.

“This is helping.” He told you, hugging you tighter. “This always helps.” He said the last part quieter, a dropped whisper that you could barely hear.

It was a truth he was afraid to confront just yet.

…

But in the present, it was a truth that was helping him more than anything.

Isaac hadn't spoken to you since he had gotten the Bite. He had been terrified of hurting you somehow. The last thing he ever wanted was to become the thing that you feared. It would have been his worst nightmare to be the one to make you cower in a corner and cry rather than to be the one giving you comfort from it.

As the moon came to a full wane overhead, and the mighty rage and power pulsed through his veins, Isaac thought of you. He thought of using that power to tear apart anybody who had ever hurt you - to finally free you from those tears. He thought of giving you the same relief he had felt when his father died. He thought of his love for you, even if it was a silent love that he had never gotten the chance to voice.

“I see you found your anchor.” Derek remarked to Isaac later, after he had gotten Erica and Boyd back in their chains, tightening Isaac’s binds once again, if only as a precaution.

“I did.”

Derek looked at him with intrigue, as if waiting for him to explain.

“Well, you said that you use anger. And Scott uses love.” Isaac told him. “I guess that mine is… some combination of both.”

“Protectiveness.” Derek explained. “That's what wolves call it.”

...

A/N: This is a oneshot, and I wrote this to be a closed off story/its own little moment inspired by the show. This is a complete story, however, if there is enough interest, I might turn this concept into a longer oneshot and expand on the idea. It would not be me writing a 'part 2' of this, it would be me using this concept and writing a longer oneshot. I do have a personal vested interest in writing about powerful characters defeating abusers, but currently I don't have the time to turn this into something longer, so this is all I wrote. Please do not harass me about making this longer or posting something more, and if you're going to leave a comment asking for a continuation, please also tell me what you liked about this current story. Though I have something else in mind, I do consider this to be a completed story on its own.

#sundrop writes #teen wolf #isaac lahey #isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey x y/n #isaac lahey x you

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fics-and-quotes-andthelike · 1 year ago

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Better Late Than Never

Title: Better Late Than Never

Pairing: Dean Winchester x female reader

Word Count: ~2,143

In which the reader’s love language is physical touch, but has never touched Dean…in public.

A/N: I really hope you guys like this one! Thanks so much for reading and for your support. If you have any requests for a fic, feel free to give me a character and a prompt/explanation for what you’d like!

Your love language has always been physical touch. A quick brush of hands here, an innocent kiss to the cheek there. Whether it was your friend or your significant other, touch was just something you used to show that you cared.

So it meant a lot to you when, after you moved in with the Winchesters, Sam had quickly picked up on your love language and allowed you to give him occasional hugs. He’d also gone out of his way to hug you, or even just put a reassuring hand on your shoulder once in a while.

But even though you felt more than comfortable with Sam, you were the first to admit that you’d never so much as given Dean a high five.

In front of others.

In the privacy of an empty bunker or motel room, you and Dean had no problem brushing against each other and exchanging brief touches. Eventually, the brief touches had turned into longer ones, and hands drifted from your shoulder to the small of your back. Then those touches turned into sitting right beside each other, your head resting on his shoulder as he peppered kisses on the top of your head. And after that, kisses on your head turned to kisses on your lips, while hands on your back turned into hands grasping your hips.

But as soon as Sam, Cas, Charlie, or anyone else walked through the door, you would revert back to no touches at all.

It’s not that you didn’t want to. He truly meant the world to you. But every time someone would walk into the room, he would pull away. And you never wanted to make Dean feel uncomfortable, even if it was killing you inside. So, to respect his space, you’d never so much as given Dean a high five in front of other people.

Until today.

A hunt had gone sideways when a djinn had outsmarted the three of you and gotten its hands on Dean while you and Sam had been out getting dinner.

When you got back to the motel room to see that Dean was gone and not answering his phone, you and Sam had come up with a plan. A questionable plan, for sure, but it was all that you could come up with in the limited time that you were allowed.

Now, the two of you sat in Baby, reviewing the plan before you burst into the abandoned warehouse where Dean was being kept.

“Whatever you do, don’t engage with the djinn, got it? I’ll take care of him, you take care of Dean.”

You nodded stiffly, your eyes on the building ahead. “I hear you, I got it. But if you’re in any trouble-”

Sam sighed in exasperation. “Would you just listen to me for a second-”

You looked up at him, fury in your gaze. “I will not let that djinn take you, too.”

Sam’s gaze softened. For all of the sweet touches that you passed around, you were still a hunter, willing to hurt anything that came between you and your family.

He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder and leaned towards you. “Hey. We’re going to be okay, alright? Us and Dean, we’re getting out of here. And that djinn isn’t gonna know what hit him.”

He kept his hand on your shoulder until you finally nodded in agreement, a half smile taking shape on your lips. You took a deep breath and checked the bullets in your gun and the knife hidden in your jacket as Sam checked the knife dipped in lamb’s blood and the colt in his holster one last time.

As you went through your mental checklist, you couldn’t help the bolt of fear that shot through you when you realized that the djinn could have easily killed Dean hours ago.

You shook your head at the thought. Dean was tough, and if the djinn was probably desperate to make his life force last as long as possible.

You shook out your nerves one last time before you straightened up and looked towards Sam. “Alright,” you muttered. “Let’s get this thing.”

The two of you got out of the car quietly before making your way to the door of the warehouse. Sam put a finger to his lips as he tried the door. You both made a face of surprise when the door gave way easily. Sam led the way as you crept inside, hoping against all odds that the rest of the revue would go this smoothly.

But of course, it wouldn’t really be a Winchester hunt if nothing went wrong.

As soon as you and Sam entered the building, you were ambushed by the waiting djinn. With the advantage of surprise on its side, it quickly overpowered Sam and tossed him to the side before it turned its attention toward you.

You cursed under your breath and raised your gun, knowing full well that it and your knife would do nothing to save you, since the plan had been that you would never have to face the djinn. The djinn smiled at your panic, pacing towards you swiftly.

Suddenly, Sam appeared once again behind the djinn. The djinn whirled around and just barely managed to dodge the knife that Sam swung its way.

Sam risked a glance over to you. “Go! Get Dean!”

You nodded, though he had already turned back to face the djinn.

You looked around wildly, hoping for some kind of sign as to where Dean could be. You startled when you heard faint gasping coming from one of the rooms to your right.

Dean. You sighed in relief as you followed the sound. He had probably saved himself from his fantasy world. You shuddered as you remembered what he’d had to do to escape his dream, and started moving faster.

You entered the room cautiously, gun in hand. From your left, a weak voice croaked out your name.

You whirled around to find Dean weak and bound, but utterly alive. You felt tears well up in your eyes as you ran over to him, shoving your gun back in its holster so that you could grab your knife and cut through his bindings.

Dean looked up at you and smiled weakly. “Hey, sweetheart.”

You ignored him, focused solely on setting him free. Your hands were shaking, making it harder to cut through the ropes. Finally, with an extra push, your knife cut through. You dropped it so that you could catch Dean, who slumped forward as soon as he was able to move again.

You slowly lowered the two of you to the ground, allowing him to catch his breath. “Are you okay?” you asked, a slight tremor in your voice.

Dean looked up at you, his eyes soft as he searched your face. “I’m alright.”

His gaze sharpened suddenly, and he looked around the room. “Where’s Sammy?”

Your head snapped over to the door, through which you could hear sounds of a fight. You cursed lightly under your breath as you stood.

Dean moved to stand as well, but you placed your hands on his shoulders and pushed him back lightly. “Stay here,” you ordered. “I’ll help Sam.”

“I’m not gonna-”

“Stay. Here.”

Dean eyed you stubbornly, but seemed to think better of himself, and nodded once for you to go on. He watched as you picked up your knife and handed it to him before you exited the room, jumping straight into the fight.

He sighed and leaned back against the wall behind him. Normally, he wouldn’t have stayed behind, regardless of what you or Sam said. But as he lay still against the wall, he couldn’t help but remember the dream that he’d been forced into.

You, him, and Sam. There’d been no more monsters. No fighting, no war. Just the three of you, living peacefully.

Jess had been there. She and Sam had gotten married, and Sam was the happiest man around. Or maybe not the happiest. Dean himself had been pretty happy too, with you by his side, through sickness and health. Finally free to hug and love each other freely, regardless of who was around.

He smiled as he looked back on it, but immediately broke out of his memory and jerked to attention as he heard footsteps enter the room.

Panic filled his body. Was it the djinn? Had he gotten to you and Sam? He clutched the knife you had given him in his hand, ready to make good use of it.

He heard Sam call out his name, relief filling his body. Dean opened his eyes and stood slowly, smiling at the two hunters watching him with concerned eyes. “Hey, Sammy.”

You heard Sam laugh breathlessly in relief while your eyes raked over Dean’s body, making sure that he wasn’t hiding an injury.

Dean tilted his head slightly, meeting your eyes. “I’m fine. Honest.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. You were aware of Sam saying something next to you, but you couldn’t focus on his words, your attention solely on Dean.

When Dean looked over at you again, a small smile on his lips and concern in his eyes, you couldn’t help yourself. You threw down your weapon and ran over, throwing yourself into his arms.

You’d never been hugged like that before.

His arms wound themselves around your body and tightened, pressing you against him. His hands were open, one resting on your shoulder and one on your side, both tugging you closer than you thought possible. His head rested on top of yours, and he murmured reassurances into your ear as he slowly rocked you side to side.

Through it all, you could faintly hear the sound of Sam leaving the room, giving the two of you some space.

When you finally pulled back, Dean’s hands didn’t leave you, instead resting on your hips as he pressed his forehead to yours.

Your hands fluttered between his shoulders, his neck, and his face as you closed your eyes and inhaled a shaky breath. “I thought you were dead.”

Dean chuckled and gave the barest shake of his head, bringing his hands up to rest them on yours where they sat cradling his face. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

You laughed. “Because my life revolves around you?”

“Because then we’d never be able to tell Sam about us.”

You felt your face change, your smile dropping as you stepped away from Dean.

He looked back at you as his arms dropped down to his sides, hurt evident on his face. “What did I do? Are we not…?”

“No!” You exclaimed, shaking your head quickly.

You saw disappointment and shame flit across his features. You shook your head again. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant…I just…I wasn’t sure.”

“Sure about what?”

“It’s just…” You steeled yourself. “You always pull away from me. I thought maybe you were embarrassed or something. Or maybe you just wanted me to help you feel better-”

Dean’s whole body jerked with surprise and he stepped towards you, arms outstretched. “No, sweetheart, that’s not it at all. I’m just…” He hesitated, only a step away from you as his arms dropped. “I’m not good with mushy gushy crap. You know that.”

You smiled cautiously. “I know. Nothing wrong with that.”

He nodded, unmoving.

You took a step towards him. “Maybe we could…work on it together?”

A smirk crossed his face as he reached an arm around your back and pulled you closer. “Oh, yeah?”

A laugh crossed your lips. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Dean leaned his head down to softly brush his lips against yours. “I know.”

You felt him stiffen as you both heard footsteps re-enter the room, with Sam loudly complaining, “You guys good to go?”

You moved to pull away, muscle memory taking over, when Dean suddenly cupped your face with one hand and pressed his other hand against your back. His eyes searched yours. “Is this okay?”

Your heart was hammering against your chest, the knowledge that what you said could determine your whole relationship with both Winchesters weighing on your brain.

You heard Sam’s footsteps moving closer and smiled breathlessly. “Yeah,” you managed to say before he connected his lips to yours.

“Guys,” Sam repeated as he stepped into the room. His eyes landed on the two of you, your hands cupping Dean’s face as he pulled you closer still. He chuckled and turned away, but not before shouting, “It’s about time!”

He could hear Dean telling him where to shove it as he walked away, and he couldn’t help but laugh at the fact that the two of you genuinely believed that nobody had noticed your secret relationship these past two years.

Oh well, he thought to himself. Better late than never.

#supernatural #supernatural x reader #supernatural fic #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean x reader #supernatural fluff #dean x reader fluff #sam and dean #fanfic #fic #castiel #supernatural charlie #supernatural imagines #incorrect supernatural #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #fem reader #fluff

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mysticmoosenger · 9 days ago

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⋆｡⋆𝚋𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚖 (pt 1) ⋆⋆୨୧˚

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⊹₊⁺⋆.˚ 𐭩₊˚.⋆⁺₊⊹.✫・゜・。.

and what are the odds? you send me a text…

synopsis: after a bad night out you run into a mysterious and sexy as fuck stranger outside the bar who offers you his lighter. the tension is obvious and although he could only exchange a few words with you before being dragged back inside, his brother slips you his number.

wc: 1.1k

themes: lots of tension, eventual smut, weed/joints, both in college, the bar sucks, choso cannot escape his big brother duties

pairings: choso x reader

a/n: this will be a several part series!!! I feel like I was wordy as fuck with this one. I love when fics have a lot of tension in the start but I cant wait to write out the smut for this hehe. so excited to be back and writing again now that im a senior in college and actually have some free time since im not cramming with gen eds. so excited to graduate.

˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚

●・○・●・○・●

The music was deafening at the bar, your friends were chatting amongst themselves, and your social battery was dying quick. Yes, you loved nights out, but you were also no where near drunk enough to be enjoying random sweaty blacked out strangers brushing against you. Your friends were all wasted and too caught up in their conversations to realize you had left. You originally thought that a few moments in the bathroom would be a decent option, but looking over at the line proved otherwise. You quickly feel around in your pocket to double check that you still have your ID and start slipping away from your group towards the back door. This wasn’t new for you, and you knew your friends would know exactly where to find you anyway.

Weaving through the crowd, your shoes sticking to the floor, you eventually push yourself to the back entrance. Even the door knob is sticky. You note to yourself how impossible it feels to do this sober as you grip the door handle and exit the hazy bar. As you make your way across the alleyway you pull out a joint from your back pocket and reach for the lighter in your bra.

As if your night couldn’t get more terrible, you realize that your lighter is no where to be found. You slump against the cold brick of the building next door as you debate just heading home early. Yes, it is only 11pm, and no, nothing could convince you that this could get enjoyable.

As you are pulling out your phone to send a quick text to your friends to let them know you would be heading home, the door opens again, the music filling the alleyway. You glance up, making eye contact with one of the most beautiful strangers you have ever seen.

His hair is dark and a bit disheveled, one of his spikey buns hanging loosely to the side, brushing against his pierced ear. His face is perfectly chiseled with a really hot tattoo across his nose. With messy black eyeliner framing his eyes, he looks back up after closing the door. The eye contact lingered for a bit longer than normal, causing you both to take an extra breath to collect yourselves.

He looks like he was in a bit of a rush, but he got quickly distracted after seeing you. He approaches you and you immediately feel a sharp throb head straight down to your pussy. He glances at the joint in your hand and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a dark purple lighter.

“Need a light?”, he breathes, getting closer to you and offering it up. You reach out and take it, your hand brushing against his, sending what feels equivalent to a lightning bolt across your body. “This cannot be real…” you think, watching as he moves to lean against the wall beside you.

Internally, you are panicking. This beautiful man beside you, basically eye-fucking you? Are you dreaming? He looks you up and down, his glance lingering on your chest and collarbones, leading up to your neck and lips. He raises his gaze to make some of the most intense eye contact you have ever seen.

“Thanks, you saved me”, you say in what feels like a whisper, prying your eyes away from his to raise the joint to your lips, clicking the lighter. The wind was getting funneled down the alley, making lighting the joint basically impossible. He notices and gets closer, raising his hands to help block the wind. Taking your first drag, you can feel his intense gaze focusing on your face. You offer him a puff, which he accepts, his long slender fingers taking the now-lit joint from your hands. Wow… this man is angelic.

The addition of a peaceful high doesn’t do anything but make the obvious tension between you both even worse. He starts, “Have you been here before? I’ve never seen you, I’d probably remember if I have.”

You glance from his eyes to his lips that are busy breathing in the smoke, replying, “Only a few times, I prefer the bar closer to campus but my friends really like this one.”

He nods and raises his hand to your lips, holding the joint for you to take another drag. Fuck, this guy is so sexy. Before you can say anything else, the back door slams open, a shorter man with light pink hair and a stressed expression on his face quickly walks up to the handsome stranger.

He raises his eyebrows and scolds the man beside you, “Choso! Where were you going? You left me alone to deal with Gojo! Really man? He’s wasted and won’t stop taking shots and blowing his money on buying them for girls! Come on man!!”, grabbing him by the wrist and ripping him away from you.

While he was stressed and in a rush, it’s not like he could ignore the obvious moment of tension he had interrupted. After shoving Choso back through the door and into the crowd, he turns back and quickly asks, “What’s your number? Not for me, for my brother. I saw that all and I’m not one to cockblock.”

You blush at the acknowledgement and exchange phones with him, typing your number into his phone which was open to a previous conversation with Choso, followed by at least 10 frantic texts asking where he was. You hit send, your number going straight to Choso. The man nods and takes his phone back, giving you back yours, with a newly added contact. He nearly runs back inside, giving you a quick smile and wink before closing the door.

You feel starstruck for a minute, staring at your phone and turning to walk down the alleyway to the street. Before you can even look up, you get an immediate text from Choso, “hey, what’s your name?”

You unlock your apartment door and enter, still glued to your phone, rereading all of the texts exchanged in the past hour. Your blush is nearly taking over your whole body as you set your phone down on the counter to heat up something to eat.

After a few minutes you look back at the now bright screen with a notification that reads, “what are you up to tomorrow? coffee after class?”

The breath empties from your lungs and your cheeks nearly burn off as you type your response, “yeah I’d love to, does 6 at the library’s Starbucks work?”

˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚

a/n: hope u enjoyed that!! I love a lot of tension in fics, it makes the eventual smut sooooo much better. stay tuned for pt. 2! It’ll be up by the end of the week. lmk how u like the fic! my ask box is open as well for any other requests or comments!

#anime #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #choso kamo #choso smut #choso x reader #choso imagine #jjk x reader #choso fanfiction #choso fic #jjk smut #jjk smau #jjk oneshot #choso oneshot #jjk au #choso au #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut

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cosmicflw3rr · 7 months ago

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cash in.

dominik mysterio x fem! reader

summary: you cash in at wrestlemania.

A/N: this is inspired by damian’s cash in, just something to put out while I work on my other things! btw pls request stuff I need to unleash my creativity 😈😈

btw in this short fic, for the inst post at the end im using pics from liv’s cash in, and a pic of bianca and montez but you can imagine yourself however you want it’s just pics i chose for the post :)

your nerves were jumbled up as you watched bayley and iyo sky fight for the title. their feud had been going on for a while now and was finally going to be resolved at the grandest stage of them all.

what they didn’t know was that tonight you’d finally cash in the money in the bank contract you'd been clutching for months. you had never found the perfect moment to make your move. yet, something in the air felt different, electric. today was the day you'd cash it in; you could just feel it.

you had to look away from the screen at the amount of close calls the match had, you moved away from the monitor sitting down on the couch in the little spot the tv crew had for the judgement day. damian, finn, jd and rhea also watched the match intently.

you held your head with your hands, sighing. your leg bouncing up and down anxiously. dominik, your boyfriend sat down next to you placing his hand on your knee to stop it from bouncing.

as soon as dom's hand touched your knee, you paused and locked eyes with him. "hermosa, talk to me," he urged, understanding the weight of the evening on your shoulders, yet not wanting you to be overwhelmed by stress.

leaning back, you let out a groan, the frustration clear in your voice. "what if it doesn’t work? what if I can't cash in the contract?" you shared your fears, the pressure mounting. "I might not get a chance like this ever again." the uncertainty of it all was eating at you.

you were convinced this was a once-in-a-lifetime shot, but dom saw things differently. he knew just how incredible you were in the ring, how you owned every match you fought and put your heart into everything you did. so to hear you think you weren’t ever going to get an opportunity like that again hurt, because he knew you would.

“listen amor.” when you wouldn't meet his gaze, he gently tilted your chin up, eyes meeting yours, and saw the worry glistening there. with a soft, reassuring smile, he whispered, "amor, don't worry. you've got this. you're one of the best wrestlers out there, and no matter what happens, there will be more chances. believe in yourself like I believe in you." his words were the comfort you didn't know you needed.

you eyes met dom’s as you nodded, understanding flickering between you. suddenly, the bell echoed, one, two, three times. your head whipped around to the screen, and there it was—bayley's victory. the members from your faction turned to you, their faces a mix of surprise and disbelief.

aithout a second thought, you grabbed your briefcase and bolted towards the gorilla, heart racing. "I'm cashing in! I'm cashing in!" you shouted at the top of your lungs. the production crew exchanged quick glances, barely able to process your words as you grabbed a referee by his shirt and charged onto the stage, adrenaline fueling your every step.

running down the ramp as your theme blared through the arena, the crowd erupted in cheers, instantly recognizing the moment unfolding. You reached the ring sliding into it with the referee on your heels. you turned thrusting the briefcase into his hands, “I’m cashing in!” you yelled.

he looked down at the briefcase his voice tinged with uncertainty, "are you sure?"

without hesitation, you shouted back, "yes, I'm cashing in, do it!" your hand came down hard on the briefcase, affirming your decision. the buzz from the crowd surged through you, adrenaline coursing wildly through your veins.

bayley staggered to her feet, unsteady. you bounced on the balls of your feet, ready, and as the bell chimed for the third time, you quickly delivered your finisher, the ripcord flatliner.

she hit the mat, motionless. yet, the roar of the crowd told you to keep going. you quickly pulled her to the ring's center, seizing her legs and cinching in a figure four lock, the cheers growing impossibly louder.

the excitement from the crowd was electric and the adrenaline in your body was hard to contain.

with the figure four perfectly locked in, bayley was trapped, dead center of the ring with no hope of grabbing the ropes. you yelled, teeth gritted, tightening the hold. then, the moment came—bayley tapped out, the bell sounding three times.

your music blared out as you released her, you scooted back, your spine meeting the ropes, shock written on your face. your hands flew to cover your eyes, tears leaving paths down your cheeks as you sobbed, the crowd's roar drowning your thoughts, the reality of the moment not quite sinking in.

wiping your tears, you turned to the referee, who held the championship title towards you. grabbing it from, you sat there dazed, just gazing at the title, a fresh wave of tears blurring in your eyes as pride swelled within you.

you got to your feet, lifting your arm, and the cheers from the crowd grew even wilder. you let out a smile, wiping away those involuntary tears. just then, at the top of the ramp, you noticed the judgement day coming out, cheering you on.

without missing a beat, you slipped out of the ring and bolted up the ramp. reaching the top, you found dominik first, waiting for you. the two of you collided into a tight embrace, him lifting and twirling you off the ground.

when your feet touched solid ground, you stepped back, locking eyes with him briefly, then sharing a tender kiss. after the kiss, you both melted into another warm hug, your arms around his neck and his on your waist.

“I’m so proud of you baby. I told you everything would work out.” he whispered, stirring fresh tears in your eyes. you nodded against his shoulder.

"I love you so much," you choked out, voice trembling, tears streaming down. breaking from the embrace, he tenderly held your face, wiping away the tears, then kissed you once more.

a smile broke through as he stepped aside, revealing the judgement day, all hyped up. In an instant, they swept you and dom up in a massive group hug.

you all erupted in cheers, bouncing around with excitement as each one expressed their pride in you, bringing a beam to your face. the group hug ended, and everyone turned towards the ring.

in a swift move, dom and damian hoisted you onto their shoulders, your hands clutching the title as you raised it high, pyro blazing in the background.

with a joyful shout, you took in the cheering crowd. after soaking in the moment, they carefully lowered you back down. you lifted your hand in triumph one last time before Dom draped his arm over your shoulder.

backstage, away from the roaring crowd, the intimacy of the moment enveloped you and dom as the judgment day trailed behind. you wrapped your arms around dom once more, this hug deeper, more personal.

tears freely flowed as the weight of your victory hit you, and dom was there, a comforting presence, rubbing your back gently. "I am so, so proud of you, amor. you've earned this and so much more," he whispered, his words a soothing balm to your overwhelmed emotions.

pulling back from the embrace, you brushed away the lingering tears, offering him a tender kiss. "thank you, babe. for everything," you murmured with heartfelt gratitude.

"this was all you," he replied, his pride in you evident.

"maybe, but your support has been my rock, the thing that's kept me pushing forward," you said, your voice laced with appreciation. his smile then met yours, and he leaned in to seal your shared moment with another kiss.

LIKED BY DOMINIK_35, RHEARIPLEY_WWE, ARCHEROFINFAMY, YAONLIVONCE & 5 MILLION OTHERS

y/n: and your new…

tagged: dominik_35

VIEW COMMENTS

dominik_35: so proud of you amor❤️

y/n: ❤️❤️❤️

rhearipley_wwe: all rise!!

y/n: judgement day is ALWAYS on top!!💜⚖️

yaonlylivonce: so happy for you! you deserve it!! 🥹❤️❤️

y/n: thank you so much liv! I love you so much!!🤍

archerofinfamy: proud of you chiquita💜

y/n: 💜

samanthairvinwwe: by far my fav name to call out tonight! congrats girl! you deserve it!! 👏💗

y/n: shhhh🤫 don’t let them know you have favorites😏

wwelover: was in sm shock watching! congratulations!!

y/n.vsp: the edits I alr have lined up for this😝

wrestlingstan: I KNEW SHED CASH IN! OMG!

WWE: your new women’s champion!

y/n: thank you to all of you who gave me the opportunity❤️.

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acciotaitlynn · 1 month ago

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Another Xavier fic bc I’m obsessed with this man

⋆˙⟡ I really just started writing fics and yall i’m kinda proud of this one 😭

𓃹 Very loosely based on Xavier’s succumb card

𓃹 Dom xav, possessive xav, xav/reader, female reader, pure smut/little plot, slight exhibitionism, fingering, vaginal sex

𓃹 3,164 words

₊˚⊹⁠♡————— ⁠♡ —————♡⊹⁠˚₊ ₊˚⊹⁠♡————— ⁠♡ —————♡⊹⁠˚₊

Xavier could feel his restraint dangling by the thinnest of threads, ready to snap at any given moment—Ever since you bolted from the table, mentioning something about old friends before darting out of the club to meet two young, cocky hunters he had never laid eyes on, that thread had been fraying.

At times, he found it almost comical— how, before you came along, he’d been so confident in his so-called unshakable composure.

It hadn’t taken you long to shatter that illusion, sweeping into his life like a flash of starlight, awakening emotions he’d never known and feelings that defied his control.

Even in past lives where he walked by your side, you had never affected him like this.

No—only this version of you, his you, had the power to unravel him, the power to leave him completely overtaken by need and a possessiveness that felt almost primal.

You were pinned against the cold granite sink in the bathroom of an upscale Linkon nightclub, Xavier’s firm chest molded to your back, your head tipping back to rest just above his heart.

Your wide, confused eyes reflected back at him in the mirror as you tried to figure out why he had so urgently pulled you from the alley.

Why his usual calm, composed demeanor had shifted into something far more commanding and dominant.

His fingers toyed lazily with your tongue, his gaze never leaving yours as you tried to piece it together, to figure out what you’d done wrong.

As expected, you had no clue, which didn’t surprise him in the least—you never seemed to understand the impact your words and actions had on others, especially on him.

“Did you mean what you said back there?” his voice was calm and steady, so at odds with the tension humming around you that it left you feeling unsettled.

You replayed the exchange with the two hunters in the alley, trying to pinpoint what exactly had pissed Xavier off.

You’d just been doing your thing, handling a situation you’d been putting off— running off some guys who’d been causing you trouble, when Xavier stormed in, lit the place up, and scared the hell out of everyone before dragging you back here.

Irritation flickered in his gaze as his fingers pressed down on your tongue until you gagged.

Through your teary, narrowed eyes in the mirror, you caught his response—a slow, mocking smirk.

Well?” he drawled, prompting you to respond.

“D-did I mean what!?” you choked out, your words slurred and distorted by his fingers.

“In the alley,” he muttered softly, venom in his voice, “you called me ‘just another hunter’ in front of those pathetic friends of yours.”

When the words first tumbled from your lips, he thought he must have misheard you. But no—you kept going, going on about all the hunter friends you knew and how they could provide backup if these guys didn’t back off.

He knew you probably had what you thought was a justifiable reason for lying, but honestly, he didn’t give a damn.

It had been a rough day—taking down an alarming number of wanderers had drained both his energy and patience, and your casual dismissal of him had been a tipping point of sorts.

But, if he were being honest, he was almost glad you’d said something so infuriating, glad you’d gotten him this worked up.

You’d handed him the ideal opportunity to vent all the day’s frustrations, right here on your pretty little body.

His fingers abandoned your lips to wrap around your throat as he smiled down at you.

“If you don’t want to answer, I can always provide some motivation.”

His tone carried a darker promise that his smile didn’t—answer him, or he’d make you.

As his grip tightened, panic surged through you instantly. You’d been on the receiving end of a Xavier interrogation before—you knew just how capable he was of extracting answers from the deepest parts of you, even the things you wished to keep hidden.

“Angh! N-no, Xav! I didn’t mean it—I was making things up!” you gasped out.

His grip loosened, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Sure, I get that. But why? Who were they?”

His tone was so condescending, as if he were humoring a child.

“Just some hunters I crossed paths with during a mission! They attempted to steal the protocores I retrieved. Ever since, they’ve been tailing me, sulking and looking for payback.”

You shoved against him, trying to wriggle free, but it was pointless. His tall frame might as well have been a brick wall.

Grinding your teeth in frustration, you huffed and met his eyes in the mirror, not missing the amused, smug little glint as he took in your struggle.

“Apparently tonight was their big moment for revenge—they tracked me here and cornered me in the alley. Then you showed up, making a complete fool of yourself, by the way! Which, frankly, made me wish my original plan had worked since I lied about who you were to keep you from getting involved.”

Your voice was tinged with irritation—those guys had really pissed you off, Xavier was in one of his moods, and on top of everything, you were starving.

Irritation wasn’t the strongest emotion running through you, though—you held his gaze, trying your hardest not to show how completely turned on you were by his actions.

You could already feel a familiar warmth gathering between your thighs, the dampness a sign that maybe you enjoyed it a little too much when he was like this…

His possessive grip and the heat radiating from his stare had been steadily unraveling you since he pulled you into this room.

You knew exactly what he wanted, and despite your growing irritation with him, you had no intention of resisting.

You could never resist him.

He squeezed your cheeks in his hand, giving your head a small shake, “maybe now you’ll stop trying to hide things from me,” he said, with a tone that suggested such a thing wasn’t even remotely possible.

You yanked your head away, grumbling, “ass,” just loud enough for him to hear.

He chuckled lightly, shifting to the straps of your tank top instead, yanking them down roughly to expose your breasts.

He followed his movements in the mirror as he tugged on your soft nipple, eyes hungrily tracing the bounce of your tit as he released it.

He hummed softly.

“Well, I suppose I can forgive you for sneaking around. You’ve always had a bad habit of not asking for help, so that part doesn’t exactly shock me.”

You resisted the incredibly strong temptation to elbow him.

“But didn’t we talk about the lying already? Sure, sometimes a story needs to be spun, but you do it so often—how am I supposed to know when you’re actually being truthful?”

He tilted his head, giving you an adorable puppy dog look drenched in faux innocence.

You met it with a glare packed with nothing but attitude.

Your day had been just as long as Xavier’s, and those guys had been tailing you for what felt like forever.

By the time he tracked you down in the alley, you were drained, hungry, and thoroughly fed up.

So you’d been more than ready to fight when he pushed you into this bathroom—He hadn’t hidden his anger at all when he found you, his silver brows furrowed and jaw locked tight. You knew he was pissed, and it only fueled your own anger, your energies almost matching.

But when his hand closed around your other breast and his teeth found your neck, any thoughts of resistance slipped away.

Your body melted completely into his, the exhaustion and frustration of the day vanishing from your mind.

Now, there was only room for him—just the way he liked it.

He couldn’t get enough of your body relaxing into his, that perfect moment when you fully surrendered to his control.

You'd gone soft in his embrace now, your body going almost limp as you silently offered him permission to do as he pleased.

A soft laugh escaped him, “surrendering so soon? That doesn’t sound like you. Does this mean you’re ready to accept your punishment?” he murmured, his tone was so low and sensual you could practically feel it brush against your skin.

Somehow, it always led to this,—your body eager to lay bare, ready to give him whatever he desired.

That’s exactly how you felt now, melting like putty in his arms, surrendering to his fantasies to offer him the relief he craved.

Because that’s all they were—fantasies.

On some level, Xavier knew he had nothing to worry about when it came to you, and you knew he just needed an excuse to let himself slip a little.

You were always more than happy to have unintentionally given him that reason.

It wasn’t entirely selfless, though— it hadn’t escaped your attention that whenever he got like this, it always ended with him fucking you senseless.

When he felt you relax into him tonight, offering yourself just the way he liked, it nearly melted away his frustration, filling him with the urge to make love to you slowly rather than carry out what he had planned.

But when you breathed, “I won’t resist. I’ve been a bad girl, Xavier. I deserve to be punished,” your big, honest eyes fixed on his reflection, that raw, primal possessiveness surged to the forefront, pushing everything else aside.

In one swift motion, he had your skirt pushed up and your panties pulled aside.

Leaning back, he hummed in approval at the sight of your cunt, so pretty and wet just for him.

He glided two long fingers through your folds, collecting the sticky wetness and licking it clean with a soft sigh.

Then, without warning, he thrust them roughly inside you, pumping slow and deep, a light squelching sound marking every stroke.

You gasped loudly at the sudden intrusion, your wide eyes finding him in the mirror.

“What? I figured she was good to go, seeing as she’s practically dripping for me.”

His filthy words and the way he acknowledged how effortlessly he could unravel you sent a hot blush spreading through your body.

You turned your head, trying to hide your eyes, but his hand gripped your chin, tilting your face back toward him.

“No more of those crafty little stories now, I see,” his tone was soft, amused, and dripping with cocky confidence.

“I wonder what those guys from the alley are up to now. Are you disappointed? That I’m the one about to fuck you, and not them? The tall one was your type, and with the way you were behaving out there—pretending you weren’t mine—you probably would’ve liked that better, hmm?”

He knew his words were complete nonsense, but Xavier loved the way you responded to his possessive claims—the way your breath caught, your plush walls tightening around his fingers, as you earnestly tried to convince him otherwise.

“N-no, Xav, never!” you gasped, your voice was shaky and barely audible over the noises his fingers coaxed from you as they scissored relentlessly inside your pussy.

“No?” he crooned back, amusement lacing his voice, “yet you didn’t want to tell him about me. Didn’t want him knowing you belong to someone else.”

His next thrust is so sharp, so precise, it nearly crosses into pain. Your nails dig into your palms as you struggle to hold back a cry.

He watches your eyes roll back as your head hits his chest, the sensation of your cunt clutching his fingers sending ripples of pleasure through him.

He knows he’ll never get enough of the way you feel—ever since that first time he was inside you, he’s been completely hooked.

He’s certain your body is the most powerful cure he’s encountered in all his centuries alive—able to fix anything within him.

But he’s equally sure that the dazed, tear-filled look you give him right before mumbling, “m’so sorry, Xav,” is the next best thing.

Literal stars fill your eyes as you gaze up at him, and Xavier feels something inside himself crack wide open.

He suddenly spins you around, lifting you onto the sink, his lips never leaving yours as he hastily unzips his pants and frees his throbbing cock, the tip swollen and glistening with precum.

You watched him closely as he stroked his length, head tilted like a predator sizing up its prey.

“I know you’re sorry, angel. But apologies don’t really fix things, do they? You’re going to have to show me.”

Then he was between your legs, his thick girth slapping against your wet folds, “now, be a good girl, okay? It’ll only hurt for a second,” he whispered, before driving himself into you with a single sharp thrust.

He bottomed out, hands gripping the mirror to steady himself—you felt so good he almost couldn’t stand it.

At this point, you’re barely conscious of anything except the pleasure of him filling you so completely, so you barely register it when he bends your knees, propping your feet up on the countertop beside you so he can fuck you deeper.

You’re a stunning mess— head tipped back against the mirror, mouth agape, legs spread wide as your pussy pulls him in greedily, tits bouncing wildly with each thrust.

To him, nothing compares to seeing you like this—blissed out and utterly intoxicated by him.

His large hands gripped your waist tightly, holding you steady and upright. He couldn’t help but find it adorable—he’d barely started, and you were already so lost in the pleasure he was giving you.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered softly, almost to himself, not really intending for you to hear.

But you whimpered, nodding, “your girl,” you echoed with a small hiccup, your delicate voice piercing straight through his heart.

Fuck. How was he supposed to keep up the game when you pulled something like that?

Almost instantly, his frantic thrusts transformed into a deep, steady roll of his hips.

“Shh, it’s okay now. I’m not upset anymore,” he said softly, his voice still carried a hint of the earlier teasing, but the frustration had faded, replaced by something deeper, something needier.

His eyes were glued to your cunt—the way it reluctantly let go of his cock, only to hungrily suck him back in.

And you were so wet, your shared arousal coating the base of his cock and dripping onto the countertop.

Now that he’d slowed his pace, he could fully appreciate the way your wet, silky walls held him tight.

As he pushed back inside you once more, his stormy cerulean eyes locked onto yours.

“Even if you sometimes forget that you’re mine, she doesn’t—feel that?” your pussy let go of him with a soft pop, and he groaned through gritted teeth, “Squeezing me so fucking tight.”

He rolled his hips forward again, voice low and dripping with filth. “She never forgets who she belongs to.”

Part of you wanted to push back against being claimed, but you knew it was pointless.

You were his, in every sense of the word.

So instead you nodded eagerly, like his mindless little slut you knew you were, whimpering happily at his dirty words.

Xavier was lost in you tonight before he even realized it.

He had no idea how long the two of you had been in this bathroom, or whether anyone had knocked, because all that mattered was you—the sound of his name leaving your swollen lips, the sheen of sweat glistening on your skin, his own droplets falling to your breasts, the silken feel of your perfect cunt wrapped around him.

His palm cradled the back of your head, guiding your glazed eyes to meet his.

You blinked up at him sleepily, looking every bit like an adorable little fucked-out bunny.

“Hey, Bun, you still in there?” he teased softly.

You just stuck your tongue out, too lost in how good you felt to bother with words.

He chuckled softly and continued, “I’m gonna fill you up, okay? You’ll take it for me, won’t you?”

His voice was deceptively gentle—just like him.

Your eyes widened, and you nodded eagerly, the plea slipping from your lips before you could stop it. “Please, Xavier—I-I’ll be so good, please give me your cum.”

His answer was a deep groan and a mumbled, “shit, anything for you, angel,” as his hands clamped onto your hips, once again holding you steady while he fucked into your cunt without mercy.

His eyes can’t seem to take in enough of you, darting rapidly from your bouncing tits, to his fingers dimpling your hips, to the way your skin ripples as his body slams against it.

He’s the one who’s a mess now—completely pussy-drunk, his pale hair plastered to his forehead, tiny whimpering sounds spilling from him, his cock leaking so much precum you wonder if he’s already released.

The sight of him—so perfect and utterly wrecked just for you—sends you hurtling toward your own release.

You came fast and hard, shockwaves rippling up your spine as your cunt spasmed uncontrollably around his dick.

The second he felt the first pulse of your orgasm, Xavier was done for.

His hips faltered as he drove deep into you with three final thrusts, thick ropes of cum spilling into you, the sensation perfectly complementing your own release.

But even after he came, he didn’t stop.

He had to keep fucking you, ensuring his cum was buried deep, not a single drop wasted.

Not when it was all for you.

When he finally pulled out, he took a moment to admire you—your body spread out so perfectly for him, your combined releases leaking from your hole that still twitched around the absence of his cock.

You looked like the most adorable, content little fucked-out bunny now, and his heart swelled impossibly with love for you.

After cleaning you up, he helped you down from the sink.

The second your legs wobbled and nearly collapsed under you, he scooped you up and carried you instead.

With your head resting on his shoulder, you mumbled grumpily, “Can we please go home now? I was already hungry before we started, and now I’m pretty much hangry. Plus, my back hurts, so thanks for that.”

Your back really did feel a little stiff from the position he’d kept you in, but mostly, you were just teasing him—you figured you’d earned it.

“How does a warm bubble bath and massages sound?” he asked with a grin.

“Massage. Singular. I’m not giving you one,” you grumbled.

His soft laughter was like a balm as he smiled down at you. “Yeah, I figured,” he said.

The storm that once raged in his eyes had calmed, leaving behind a serene, sky-blue gaze, like the most beautiful day imaginable.

Any irritation you might have felt slipped away as you settled into him, silently wishing you could always be the reason his eyes turned bright and happy again.

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leviathanleva · 3 months ago

Text

Daisy

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem Reader [DARK FIC]

Description: Cooper Howard was not a kind man, he cared for nobody, but himself. Then he found you, a lost little dove, barefoot and crying, torn dress and big innocent eyes staring at him like he was a hero. He knew you’d be a burden, he knew you couldn’t survive in the wasteland, he was doing you a favor.

But he couldn’t pull the fucking trigger...

........................

[Smoking, Mention of Alcohol Consumption, Mention of Death]

[5.2k words]

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Chapter 10 "The Color"

“Good night, Mister.”

The audacity you possess gnawed at his gut, he was boiling, seething.

How dare you try to walk out on him? How dare you treat him like a common nobody when he’s kept you alive for so long now without asking for anything in exchange?

It’s easy to understand your perspective. You’ve been led to believe you were betrayed and you would have been if you hadn’t presented him with the taste of heaven. He couldn’t get rid of you after the honeyed dew of you and that pretty mouth trickled down his tongue. He was too addicted to the sight of just how much influence he had on you – all hazy eyes and twitching smile, foggy mind and grabby hands tugging at him as if he was an oasis in the desert. He was drunk on the power, writhing in delight at your willingness. He had you wrapped around his finger and he hadn’t even tried.

But then you slide off the windowsill and slowly walk away, towards the door, try to leave him. It was then that he realized you had just as much of a chokehold on him as he had on you if not more.

He didn’t mean to grab you by the hair, he just reached out to stop you. Then you hissed and whirled around to bite him and his internal monologue to persuade himself into seeing things from your eyes dissipated. He’d had enough of your tantrum, he was nurturing a missing kidney because of you.

You weren’t going fucking anywhere.

He snarled at you and jostled you still and silent, spat a few venomous words he wasn’t too proud of and tossed you on the bed.

Be mad all you want, you weren’t fucking leaving him. You had no right to deprive him of the little comfort he’d found.

Sleep did not come that night, it didn’t come for many nights after. He’d spent the quiet hours daydreaming about being the cause for Mitzie’s disappearance. As days blurred into weeks, he became more and more agitated because no matter how much he drank or indulged in chems, he couldn’t fall unconscious. Not when he couldn’t feel you pressed into him and sleeping off the exhaustion of your travels. He’d be so close to slumber, about to slack and doze off, then he’d be startled awake because the lingering smell of lavender and the heat against his chest wasn’t there. He’d bolt upright, look around in delirium, ready to shower the world with bullets because his first thought was that you were kidnapped.

No, you were right there, a few feet away with your back turned to him. You were there, you just refused to touch him.

No more tugs at his coat, they’d been so annoying, he’d ripped his sleeve away as soon as he’d felt them, now he missed them. No more huddling together at night with the excuse of it being cold, no handholding, no loving glances. You weren’t trying to be in direct contact with any part of him you could get your hands on, you didn’t try to strike small talk while you mapped out the wasteland, no more stupid questions, no pleading for him to tell you stories when you camped down for the night.

He was alone, felt like it, the only indicator for that being false was you walking silently behind him, a presence in his shadow, another thumping heart around the campfire. Other than that, there was nothing.

It was agonizing, nerve-wracking, infuriating, but he was too stubborn to try and fix it. He was too prideful to soothe the aftermath of the turmoil he had caused. He tells himself time heals all, you’ll be right back to being a nuisance in a day or two, he comforts his gaping chest and bleeding ribs with those hopeful thoughts, stifles the annoying little critter reaching for you. His heart? No, something else. He had no heart left to give, but something akin to a heart was cradled in the crevice of his ribcage and he’d be willing to share it. If only you’d turn around and fucking look at him…

But the days roll on and you’re stoic in your silence, he’s not sure if it’s a wordless protest still or if you’ve just given up on him and are trying to figure out how to escape. The prickling possibility poisons his blood until he’s angry all over again, but he can’t say anything when you’ve made no such move.

It’s all a waiting game now.

It’s bothersome.

It’s skin-boiling.

It’s –

“ – Mister!”

He blinks at the call and what had been jumbled letters and fake scenarios disperses to give way to a darkening horizon and a mountain of muddy green clouds. The sound of distant thunder echoes in the deserted field you’ve been crossing today and he finally acknowledges the stinging gust of wind licking at his face.

He catches your strained expression as you struggle to bring in a sheet with all that you’ve managed to scavenge for your current occupation.

“Shit.”

A monstrous radstorm creeps your way, lumbering warningly and eating away at the once clear blue sky. Braving it is a lost cause for him, let alone a small smooth-skin like you.

Cooper isn’t one to turn back, but with the path forward cut off with acidic rain ravaging anything that breathes, for once he’s willing.

With a grunt, he snuffs out his cigarette, turns from the approaching apocalypse to you, pushes you aside, and grips the sheet of provisions before dragging it inside the moldering shack that will be your salvation for the next few days. With the need to not be useless pumping through your blood, you burden yourself with your backpack and the ghoul’s pack over each shoulder before stumbling inside and kicking the door shut behind you.

The windows, glassless, are already conveniently boarded up; that’s one less thing to worry over. The latch on the door is too flimsy to survive the storm, both you and Cooper come to realize that quickly when you slide it shut and it nearly breaks off into your hand, having been worn and eaten by rust and bad weather for countless years. The heap of supplies is left to roll around in a pile on the ground as you’re ushered aside.

Another strained grunt comes from the ghoul as he fights against the barren bookcase positioned in one corner of the room. He pushes it towards the door, topples it over, and presses his full body weight against it to slot it neatly against the wall.

As the shack begins to creak under the cutting pressure of the wind, you make haste for the bathroom. Having mapped out the place already, you’d been pleasantly surprised to find a bathtub intact – a decent place to build a little nest for the duration of the storm, away from both the radiation rain and Cooper. There was a used-to-be-teal couch in the main room and you were almost certain he’d bunk on that and leave you to your peace.

You were wrong.

As you drape a flimsy, dirty blanket over the tub to make for your mattress, heavy boots can be heard thudding against the wooden floorboards and before long, you aren’t alone anymore.

“Door’s secured.” Cooper voices out, a meek attempt at conversation, as he leans against the doorframe and crosses both arms and legs before he looks down at you. His hat is off, discarded somewhere on his way to you, as if to shed some mental barrier he’s kept up to give you the chance to step foot inside an invisible crater left gaping after your quarrel. It was a heartwrenching gesture, you weren’t oblivious to his subtle attempts at trying to stoke the fire that now lay dead between you two.

But you were having none of it.

With a curt nod and not raising your gaze from making your bed, you acknowledge his statement, wishing to keep it simple and wordless.

Maybe it was your first proper tragedy of betrayal that kept you tongue-tied, or that you simply didn’t know how to interact with a stranger because that’s what he’d become once the veil had been pulled away from your eyes. Betrayal, it was the sort of dull ache that burrowed deep and ate at you like a worm did an apple, it was something you still struggled to swallow. Microanalyzing every past experience and interaction with the ghoul had become a pastime activity and the more you delved, the darker the general picture became.

He wasn’t a savior, the man was straight up a textbook abuser and you were his unfortunate target for the time being. But your predicament prevented you from simply walking out on him, you’d not survive alone even after months of scouring the wasteland. You scorned your fragility and lack of self-sustainability, if you’d not been constantly sick back at your vault you would have learned to handle a weapon at the very least. Now, you didn’t know how to hold a knife properly, let alone a firearm, not that there was any easily accessible one lying about.

The ghoul was your best bet and as much as you rebelled against the thought, a part of you was unwilling to walk away even if the current obstacles for not doing so weren’t there.

“You hate me now?”

The storm is above your heads now, you can hear the patter of rain against the weather-beaten roof, and the green-tinted grimness of the world outside casts dramatic shadows on Cooper through the cracks of the boarded-up windows. But for once, he doesn’t look like the Grim Reaper, no, he depicts a man distraught, but with enough masculine pride to hide it well. The whole situation seems like an exaggerated drama series, the culmination had passed already, and you didn’t have the mental strength to go through another.

You didn’t stand a chance in another verbal fight, not when he was prone to spit venom in your face and there was no alcohol to dull your aching heart, no Bucky to offer you warmth and slobbery comfort.

Fingers still over the bundle of rags you’d planned to wrestle into a pillow, eyes dart up to look him over well, taking in the lines in his face that seemed to deepen the longer your silence persists.

“What?”

That’s all you can manage to blurt out as you blink at him owlishly.

“Is good t’ hate, Darlin’.” he speaks softly, the rasp in his voice nearly unnoticeable, and tilts his head to the side, returning your gaze with something akin to pity. “It’ll keep you alive longer.”

“Why would you ask me that?” you feel insulted; it shows clearly as spring water in your intonation. There’s a shift in your features, from neutrality to confusion and then slowly – hurt. The difference in height bothers you at that moment, you feel like a small child about to be given a reality check and your first instinct is to shrink away. Instead, you stand, despite your wobbly knees protesting to stay put and not move and hope that it’ll all be over soon.

But you are no child. You’re a grown woman, you can, have to, stand on your feet and stand your ground even if you smell another argument brewing. You can’t run, you refuse to succumb to his intimidating stance, to the way he’s crossed every limb to lock you out and seem more distant than he actually is.

If he dared to ask you such a question, then you would have the audacity to stand up to him for once.

“Don’ snuggle with me at night no more.” Cooper shrugs at both your question and the saggy expression you give him, he’s casual despite the hoarseness of his voice deepening. “You rather the cold bite yer ass than come anywhere near me now.”

The bathroom you’d chosen as your occupation was dark, windowless, the only light came from the open door where the ghoul stood. He looked like a deathly angel coming to retrieve and deliver you to better times, better lands. He looked soft despite his best efforts to keep a protective barrier between the two of you.

Typically, you’d already be watery-eyed and stumbling to him. You’d wrap your arms around his chest and bury your nose in the crook of his neck and soothe him tenderly that everything was fine, that he was more important to you than a fight, that betrayal could be fixed and trust rebuilt. You wanted to… but it felt wrong. Everything felt wrong – being close to him, smiling at him, touching him.

You just couldn’t. Something deep in your core stopped you, thrashed at the very thought of forgiveness and letting your guard down.

But in truth, you didn’t hate him, you couldn’t.

“I wanted to give you space…” you answer, this time with more than monotony, there’s a pang of spice in your words, a disgust at holding affections for a married man, understanding for his conscious decision of letting you in despite not being fully yours, and a sliver of hurt for being held in the dark for so long. “If I’d known you had a family I would have never overstepped.”

“Did I ever say I wanted space?”

His quip is sharp; it quickly dashes through the air before your own words have dissipated into nothingness.

You’re silent, the moisture leaves your throat and mouth and your tongue sticks to your teeth as you clench and unclench your jaw. Wide eyes stare at him, almost unblinking despite the heavy presence of dust particles all around you. The raging storm is drowned out by the screeching in your ears as your pulse picks up speed. You try to swallow, but end up only flexing your neck.

“You didn’t say anything about having a family either.”

It’s a nasty statement, a defensive hiss emitted more to remind yourself that you aren’t the one in the wrong rather than spur him on, but it does both.

“My family ain’t none o’ your fuckin’ concern.” the spaces where his brows used to be locked together, accentuated his skull-like appearance. His jaw tightened at your mention, it was a sickening subject for him and you were well aware, but that didn’t stop you from resorting to it when he attempted to balm over things without offering a simple apology.

In truth, that was all you needed, to see him honestly remorseful for stringing you along. You didn’t want his autobiography, his entire life’s story, all you needed were little bits of information to keep in your lane and be aware of the proper way to treat him – whether father figure, romantic interest, or simply a guardian.

But he was too stubborn for that. Cooper would rather you learn the hard way, via action over word, a stranger over his own voice. He’d rather you struggle because of his inability to open up and a part of you didn’t fault him, the poor man had been through hell. So had you, though, you’d lost everything, more than him. At least he had a family somewhere out there, you, on the other hand, had nothing. You were worse than him and still you were burdened with being the beacon of light, the source of vulnerability and softness.

It wasn’t fucking fair…

You were sick of the one-sided exchange.

“Mister…” you sigh in defeat and your features scrunch in subtle regret, a hint of empathy illuminated in your dilated pupils. You give him a small frown and take a tiny step forward as your hands reach up to rub at your exposed arms in self-comfort. It wasn’t easy talking about any of this despite how many times you’d lead repertoires in your head.

“Cooper.” the ghoul corrects, acting like you addressing him by anything aside from his name was the biggest insult you could have used. He’s all taut muscles and stiff shoulders, curled fingers digging into the leather of his coat and making it squeak under the strain.

He’s more distraught at your distance than the mention of his family and it breaks your already wounded heart. It gives you the illusion that maybe you are special to him and this wasn’t just a farce, it beats at the walls you’d raised around your naïve affection for him. You’re crumbling before him and you don’t even notice, too caught up in his display of pain to realize it might be just another theatric. Or maybe you just didn’t care if it was.

Bright green lightning strikes close to your rickety sanctuary, it makes the grown beneath your feet tremble and you would have winced away, crawled to a corner, and hid with your hands over your ears until all was calm again. Not now, though, now everything is blocked out. The whole shack might be ripped from above your head and you might not even register it.

It’s just you and him in your cesspool of corporeal need and pain, of words unsaid because neither of you knows when the right time to say them is. The gloomy light from outside creeping through the windows, the dust particles big enough to resemble snowflakes. It all makes him look heavenly, albeit in a very peculiar, unsettling way.

But what wasn’t peculiar and unsettling in the world you lived in?

“Why can’t you be glad I’m putting your happiness before my own?” the words slip past your chapped lips before you register them, hang in the air heavily, and go straight for his gut. There’s an unwavering calmness to your expression now, a friendly, empathetic, even maternal delicateness as you speak. “I want to find your family as much as you do, what’s important to you is important to me.”

It’s painful to him, your lack of self-preservation, your denial of selfishness, it complicates his situation. If you were simply a brat and lashed out at him, he could just leave without regret, but even in your sorrow you kept giving, not material things to ease his life, emotional acceptance that fed his soul, healed the rotten inside of his being. It was addictive, it became the same as oxygen to him and it sewed you to his very skin, he couldn’t get rid of you without leaving a piece of himself with you.

Stupid girl. His little angel…

“I’m not asking you for anything, I’m not having a hissy fit, I’m pleading for an explanation. I’m trying to be selfless and support you and you’re being – ” you gesture towards his stiff, blocked-off pose, his crossed arms and tipped head, stiff jaw, and ridged shoulders. “ – like this.”

You’re ruthless in your soft assault, berating him with kindness and gentle words. It sucks the marrow out of his bones, leaves him soft and weak and needy when he sees the shine in your eyes as tears start to form. He’s not a gentle soul, though, he doesn’t pull you in his arms to soothe your woes and hush you before you start sobbing. Instead, he scoffs with malice.

“Like what?” his tone is biting because he knows no other way, having forgotten what being soft on someone was like. Kindness and comfort are foreign to him still, even if you’d made it your mission to rekindle his humanity before and had done so somewhat successfully in the past few months. He was still a rookie in the field and when it came to him exposing his feelings, everything turned into red alert. He shut down.

Or maybe there was nothing there and you were simply projecting and deluding yourself because you so desperately needed something to cling to in such trying times. It was maddening to think about and so you pushed the doubt away into the crevices of your subconscious and instead thrust your blind faith in him.

“Break for me…Please, break for me…Just this once…”

“Like an asshole.” you spit out, nearly choking with strain as a vein bulges in your neck. Like a good mirror, his malice reflects in you; your brows lower, your lips thin in a line and your teeth shine from beneath. “I didn’t do anything bad. Why are you acting like this?”

Your stance is nearly prowling, bent back and knees ready to pounce at nothing in particular. Cooper wanted to laugh at the sight because despite your unfriendly demeanor, your voice, like always, betrayed you. It was still a soft lullaby, contrasted with your sharp look, and gave away too much you’d tried to hide behind an angry mask.

You were bad at acting, even worse at lying. It was a good thing in his eyes.

Irritation bubbled up his throat at your devotion to him. Even when in pain, even after he’d hid so much from you, you still couldn’t be truly angry at him and it pissed him off to no end. Too pure for this world, your sorrow derived from the unsettled conflict, not his revolting actions towards you. It was sickening, he hated you with every fiber of his being because you were him two hundred years ago.

He didn’t mean to let it out on you.

His turmoil was his to handle alone and with a smoke and a few gulps of whiskey he would have snuffed it out. You were never meant to be the battering ram for his emotional invalidity, but you were standing there waiting for him, for some sort of comeback to turn your monologue into an actual conversation.

He felt mournful only after he’d gripped you by the neck and stuffed his face in yours, his spit flying over your cheeks and chin as he snarled like a rabid dog.

“Because you’re my happiness.”

Your face pales with fright at first and he can see his own degraded reflection in your watery eyes, it’s not a pretty sight. Your features are frozen in a blasphemous mix of fear and so much more once his words begin to register and it’s by pure chance that the tears don’t spill right away.

You’re clinging to his wrist, nails dug into his rubbery skin at first to loosen the death grip he has on your hair, then simply holding on as he forces himself to appear to you in a different light, a softer light despite his rough handling.

“You’re my fuckin’ happiness. My only happiness.”

It wasn’t enough to spit self-indulgent love in your face that felt like a knife right through your stomach, he had to toss you aside right after like you were worthless.

You stumble with a whimper and grab at the wall behind you, flat palms pressing firmly against the peeling wallpaper to steady your footing.

Cooper storms out, kicks the door shut behind you, and leaves you in utter darkness, his heavy boots echoing and drawing distance until the only noise is the deaf storm and your shaky breathing. You slide down until your bum is resting on the dirty floor, weep softly for what feels like hours, let it all out in one go after a long time of keeping everything bottled up. Regretful of not speaking sooner, of letting things fester because of your own stubbornness, because for once you want him to approach you and not the other way around.

Now you’re left alone sobbing in a dingy bathroom.

Your hands card through your hair, fingers sunken in your scalp to try and ground you, calm you down in a way as your face lay stuffed in your knees. Your tears soak the fabric of your tights, and leave stains you hope won’t be noticeable when you go after the ghoul.

Was he kind and you just asked for too much? Was he complicated or were you just stupid? Was this love? Were you supposed to fight for him or let him be free of your burdensome existence? Were his words more lies or was he being truthful?

You sniffle back the tears and wipe your cheeks, deciding that if he notices your puffy eyes, you’ll blame it on the dust. With a small grunt, you stand and dust off your dress before clearing the wet gunk from your throat and taking a confident breath.

You could fix this. You can talk like adults. You can figure something out.

And so you venture out into the corridor, making as little noise as possible and you’re gentle when you close the door behind you.

The storm outside rages on and you see a few puddles of acid water on the floorboards, droplets dribble through the cracks in the ceiling, you avoid them, ignore your despicable reflection in them when you pass by. Another lightning strike and this time you’re more aware and squint, but keep moving forward. The house creeks, nearly sways from the winds, and your drive to find Cooper is no longer solely based on easing his irritation, but also on seeking comfort in his presence if all were to crumble over your heads.

If today was to be your last day together, you wanted to die on good terms with him and maybe in another life, you’d get a second chance to be happy together.

Your nose scrunches at the thought, a foul taste in your mouth, bittersweet. You dismiss the gloom over your mind as best you can and round a corner to the main room where you find him. You halt, slide a hand on the doorframe, and peek at him silently, debating whether approaching would be volatile or not.

He’s sitting on the couch, an old whiskey bottle by his boot. His elbows rest on his knees as a lit cigarette wastes away between his fingers, you can smell it from your spot, the pungent aroma too distinct and frequent to pass by you unnoticed. His back is bent, his hat back on his crown.

Maybe he knows you’re staring and doesn’t care enough to acknowledge you, maybe he’s too deep in the sea of thought to register anything outside the storm raging in his head.

You swallow snot, thankfully the tears have dried, and slowly, cautiously make your way to him. You sit beside him, your knees brush, but he doesn’t do anything to indulge or deny the contact so you continue in your need for him. Small hands wrap around his arm as you wordlessly rest your head against his shoulder and sigh something heavy.

When he presses his cheek against your crown you stiffen, clutch at the sleeve of his coat and scoot a little closer, glad to be welcome instead of chased away as you’d feared. Your foot grazes against his, both pairs planted firmly against the floorboards, it brings you comfort, always has no matter how dire the situation at hand.

It takes time to find your voice again and when you do it’s a weak shell of its normal state.

“Is it bad that I’m in love with you?”

He takes his time to contemplate and you’re left in suspense, but as long as he lets you cling to him, you don’t mind. You feel him eventually nod against your hair and a gentle pat is given to your knee to affirm the answer to come. His motions bring dreadful information, you wish his next word would be different, but you’re no fool and right now you’re too tired to be delusional.

“Yeah…” he whispers, voice roughened and battered from mouthfuls of alcohol and lungs filled with smoke. There’s a distance to his gaze as his eyes stay glued to the stray, empty can of beans in one corner of the room.

He’s not equipped for this, never thought he’d fall into such a situation even after he’d scorned his marriage and called it quits despite there being no actual divorce papers. He never thought the wasteland would gift him with something so precious to care for let alone hold his heart.

He doesn’t want to be loved, he doesn’t like the complications it comes with, but he’s left too weak to say no to it.

“What do I do then, Mister?”

It’s a genuine question, makes him smirk for half a second before his face falls again and the whirl of thoughts resurfaces tenfold. He nuzzles your head tenderly and the hand he rests on your knee squeezes as if he’s afraid you’ll stand any second, take your bag, and run away with the storm. A prerequisite for his words to come, his heartfelt advice from one survivor to another.

If only you were two simple survivors…

“Run.” he says so softly, but so powerfully, so sincerely. He wished you’d listen and rip away from him, be free of his torment, and find a settlement where to prosper. But he knows you, understands how you tick, he’s already poisoned you with the spilled blood of innocents, you even smell of cigarettes, no longer just lavender and sweat. “But you refuse.”

Poor little thing.

You’re his now even if he doesn’t want you. He’s yours now even if you refuse to believe it.

“Yeah…” you agree without debate, despite the negative implications his words carry.

You had no one, you were too deep in. What else were you supposed to do?

The ghoul pulls back then and you lift your head to look at him as your death grip on his arm loosens. You watch as he takes his hat off and places it on the backrest of the stained old couch before leaning down to your eye level.

Your lips part and you inhale, ready to mumble something out to fend off the quiet, but he beats you to it.

“I’m sorry.”

He kisses you then, latches onto your mouth with foreign gentleness, testing your resolve, tasting the bitterness of your tears, past and fresh. He pulls away just barely, enough to quickly wrestle out of his coat before draping it over the both of you.

“Cooper…”

He shushes you with another kiss, less gentle, more fervent, desperate even as he pushes you back until you’re lying down with your head tucked in one of his hands. You’re squished between him and the couch as he nestles between your thighs and lets his weight sink you into the cushions. You kiss him back, hidden beneath him and his coat.

His tongue slips past your lips without any resistance, finding yours, twirling around it, guiding it into a languid dance as you begin to tremble uncontrollably. His free hand finds each of your arms and moves them to encircle his neck where you hold and grip at with shaky fingers.

He cups your cheek and tilts your head slightly, deepening the kiss. His lips are soft and tight, rubbed clean and delicate by the whiskey and you can taste it on his teeth. You’ve never craved that taste before in your life, for once alcohol is pleasant.

You mewl when his tongue leaves your mouth and he dips his face into the crook of your neck, cradling you carefully as he breathes you in and mouthes your sensitive skin sloppily. You breathe slowly and deliberately, trying to steady the pounding in your ears that deafens all but the rustling of his coat. You bite your bottom lip as uncertain sounds crawl up your throat and seek to escape.

And suddenly, the world has color again.

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Hello, lovelies!

It's been a long time since I posted an update, forgive me. Between work and uni, I've had my hands extremely full this summer. Updates will be slow, but I've not abandoned anything!

I don't know if there is still interest in this story, but if anyone reads: Hello! Good to see you! I hope you enjoy the end of the first arc!

More to come soon! Stay safe out there!

PS. If you're no longer interested in the story and you're a part of the tag list, don't be shy and let me know. I completely understand <3

🌼 Daisy Masterlist 🌼

Masterlist

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@fallout-girl219 @one-of-thewalkingdead @robin-the-enby @savanahc @whatthefuckkrichard

@lisnamavka @lomlbillieeilish @itsyellow @cloudroomblog

@skykaykay @i-just-like-to-read @landlockedmermaid77 @enaelyork @maeplaysbass

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@zloshy @skrzydlak

#cooper howard #the ghoul fallout #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #fallout tv series #the ghoul fanfic #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #x reader #cooper howard fic #cooper howard fanfiction

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taintandviolent · 1 year ago

Text

morally violating ; Kai Anderson x reader

warnings: kai is the warning. okay okay, real warnings: hatefuck (surprise, surprise), female receiving, clothed sex, rough sex, spanking, aggression, choking, degrading language, unprotected sex. a/n: 2.7k words! turned out to be part 2 to my howlin' for you fic. i feel like an anon requested this, but I'll be damned if I can remember which one. if it was you -- here you go! it's late, but who cares. you guys don't care, it's Kai. was originally part of my lazy (and embarrasingly late at this point) kinktober. week two AND three; spanking, clothed sex and degradation. so uh... enjoy. sorry if it's clunky and bad and weird and rushed!

full fic & taglist under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! /

You swept the blush brush over your cheeks and heaved a sigh. Ultimately, you were disgusted with yourself. Right? It might not have been surface-level, but somewhere, deep down, you really were. You had to be. It was sickening that you hadn’t stopped thinking about the furious fuck you two had had almost two weeks ago. You, as a proud feminist woman, found that very morally violating. Actually, you found Kai very morally violating. And yet, here you were, threading the ribbon of a Red Riding Hood costume through the faux-corset front. You knotted it tightly and gazed in the mirror.

You made a cute Red Riding Hood and your tits sat nicely in this corset. At least there was that. There was the possibility that he wasn’t even going to come, which was probably the best option. There was also the possibility that he would walk through the door with Winter. If the latter happened, you’d feel like a fool in front of your friend, and an absolute pathetic, begging whore in front of her brother.

Which is what you were. You knew Kai would make sure to tell you that.

You heard the first ding of the doorbell. Giving yourself a final once-over, you turned and bolted down the stairs. Your eyes swept over your living room, making sure it was presentable. You’d decorated modestly. Streamers of orange, black and purple hung from the ceiling, those little table top decorations were clustered on your coffee table. Carved pumpkins greeted guests at the door.

With a bright smile on your face, you swung open the door. A cluster of friends from college stood on your doorstep; hugs were exchanged before you ushered them inside. It was non-stop after that. Your guests flooded into your home, and before you knew it, you had to hold your drink above your head to navigate. Within a few hours, you had yourself, by all definitions, a successful party. You were two Red Solo cups deep, and you still hadn’t spotted either of the Anderson siblings.

Your eyes unfocused, watching the throngs of people as they undulated to music and clustered in corners of the room. Reminiscent activities of a college party, some playfully slapped each other, some made out, while others danced, feeling the beat of the song playing. Others had taken to sitting on the staircase, lounging against the wall and the bannister as they chatted.

“Hey there, little Red Riding Hood…” a voice said. Your eyes refocused onto a particular head of blue hair, wavy locks hanging on either side of his face. His dark, brown eyes penetrated — no, violated yours.

“You sure are looking good.” Song quote. Cute. Not.

Everything he said sounded so threatening, even when it was complimentary. Especially when it was complimentary. He was scanning your body like a drill sergeant examining a soldier, scrutinising every minute detail. Intentionally, you puffed your chest out, lifting your cleavage and squaring your shoulders.

“Did you let yourself into my house?” You snapped, incredulously. “Where’s Winter?”

He stiffened, obviously put off by your immediate attitude. “She’ll be here. Later. Had something I needed her to do.”

“The fuck?”

A beat.

“…did you let yourself into my fucking house, Kai?”

“Did you intentionally dress up like Little Red Riding Hood after I dressed up as a wolf?”

Your open mouth closed wordlessly, lips rolling inwards. The question was rhetorical, and answering would only humiliate you further.

“Why don’t we go discuss your choices upstairs?”

You stared at him, a vicious fire burning behind your eyes. Hoping he’d… what? Retract his statement? Run back out the door, finally realising that you weren’t one to be fucked with? Doubtful. He never backed down in front of a woman. Besides, if he did, you’d likely stop him, catching his arm at his bicep and yanking him back towards yourself — because you didn’t want him to leave. And you knew it.

With a huff and a sharp turn, you headed up the stairs, navigating around the people that sat on the steps. Every feminist cell in your body screamed perilously at you as he followed you up your carpeted steps, the heavy stomp of his boots following closely behind you.

You were in no mood to self-rationalise, you were too busy trying to calm the drooling monster between your legs. You squeezed your eyes shut, silencing the thoughts as you opened the door. The guests would entertain themselves — this wouldn’t take long. It didn’t last time.

He began surveying your room, walking it with his hands behind his back as if grading you. When he came to your bathroom, he toed open the door with his boot, and peeked his head inside. He seemed satisfied with whatever he saw — maybe his own reflection. All of this made you acutely uncomfortable. You shifted your weight, flipping the frill of one of your petticoats.

“Come here.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said… come…. Here.” He repeated, more sternly than before.

For whatever stupid reason, you obeyed him. You marched your sorry little ass over to where he was standing, staring up at him like a lost puppy. The bathroom door was still ajar, and you could see inside, courtesy of the little butterfly night light that was plugged in above the sink.

Kai reached in, flattening his hand against the wall and flipped the light switch.

“Put your hands on the counter.”

You hesitated. This didn’t sound good. But as soon as Kai jerked his head in the direction of the countertop, you hurriedly flattened your hands on the counter, keeping your eyes locked on his reflection.

“Good. Good. Now we’re getting somewhere. You’ve thought about our little encounter at Winter’s party often, haven’t you?”

You shook your head.

THWACK!

Your jaw dropped, stunned, as a burning red welt swelled on your right ass cheek, the flesh tingling with pinpricks of pain as the blood rushed to the surface. There had been no warning for the first, and there wasn’t a warning for the second, or the third.

“Let’s try that — wait. Oh. You like this.” He spat. “Don’t you?”

You shook your head again, indignantly, and Kai reared his hand back. You flinched and tightened your muscles, waiting for the impending impact. You knew it would piss him off — maybe that’s why you did it. Filling your mind with horrible things that would hopefully keep the arousal at bay wasn't working. You were failing… miserably. Spanking wasn’t something you’d explored in the past, never would have thought to. But the way that he was leaving large, burning handprints on your ass cheeks had you leaking out into your underwear. You could feel it, you knew it. Fuck, so wet… fuckfuckfuck.

As if he could hear your thoughts — a terrifying thought — Kai hooked one finger around the crotch of your panties and harshly yanked them to the side, exposing your slick folds. The tip of his middle finger explored curiously, unsurprisingly finding the beginnings of a juice-fest. Slippery, clear liquid oozed from your opening, and you heard Kai chuckle through his nose.

“Oh, no? What’s this?” He asked, knowingly. You had yet again lied to him. You personally didn’t see it as a lie but as a vicious betrayal from your own body. A wet, vicious betrayal.

“Nothing,” you rasped, ashamed, and knowing full well what was coming.

“What was that?”

“I said… nothing.” Might as well accept your fate now. You gripped the edge of the counter, bracing for impact.

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! Your knees buckled in pain, a desperate whimper falling from your lips. Welts rose until your entire backside was a crimson, burning masterpiece of his hands.

“Clearly, you haven’t caught on. Allow me to explain this to you. Every time you lie to me, you’re going to be punished. And I know what you’re thinking. ‘Oh, but Kai, I like it when you spank me like the disobedient bitch I am.’ Maybe so.”

You didn’t appreciate the mockery of your voice.

Kai flattened his palm on the searing mound of flesh, caressing it tenderly as if deep in thought. Somehow though, the gentle touch made it sting more than before. You writhed away from his hand, only getting an inch or two away before he crudely yanked you back into place. Tossing you around like some sort of rag doll. “But, eventually, pleasure turns to pain. It’s up to you if you reach that point.”

Condemn yourself or liberate yourself? The answer was obvious. You sought pleasure not pain, and if Kai was willing… You met his eyes in the mirror, boring deep into them. You bent your arms at the elbows, stretching them across the counter and arching your back, pressing the curve of your juicy ass against his groin.

“Just fuck me,” You begged. Pathetically, desperately, whiningly. “That’s all we both want. It’s why we’re — why we’re here. There’s your truth, Kai.”

For a moment, Kai didn’t speak, he just stared. Just… watched you in the mirror. You drew your bottom lip in and bit down hard, hoping to entice him further. Slowly, his large hands slid up your back, going as far as the fabric would allow before dragging them back down again, his nails raking against your bare skin. Abruptly, he took hold of your ass, squeezing the soft flesh too hard, twisting your expression into one of pain. With the still warm pain of the spanks, you couldn’t help but wince at the sensation.

“Is that really wha—

“Don’t ask me if it’s what I want,” you groaned. “Don’t fucking ask me that.”

That launched him into action; his hands leaving your body. He unbuttoned his jeans, reaching in to pull his throbbing cock free. His gaze drifted from you to himself, looking down at it. Decently hard, but could be harder. The chase hadn’t been as long as last time, giving him less time to get worked up. He gave it a few angry pumps before lining it up with your slit.

This was the second time you were going to fuck Kai Anderson — and in a similar way; pissed off and completely clothed. Behind you, Kai used the tip of his cock as a toy, slapping it messily against your swollen, blushing cunt, threads of precum stringing from your clit to his head.

You shuddered. Kai dragged his cock down, pressing the bulbous tip into your pink, weeping slit. Gushy and searing hot, the spongy walls clenched, forcing it back out. Kai grit his teeth and pushed the head in harder, breaching it. Slithery warmth washed over him, gripping it tight. His cock twitched inside of you, seeking out depth. “Ohhhhh…. Fuck. Fu-”

With the head of his now rock-hard cock planted inside you, he no longer needed his hands and let go, moving them up to sweep his hair out of his face. He was embedded inside of you now, slick walls gripping his shaft, carnally begging for more. Using only the strength of his core, Kai backed out and plunged his cock back in repeatedly, popping the head in and out of your wet pussy. With one determinate thrust and a deep groan, he pushed himself all the way in, his lower abdomen bumping against the fullness of your ass cheeks.

His hands dropped heavily to your ass, taking fistfuls and pulling the cheeks apart to watch as it slid in and out, coated in your arousal. You whimpered, eyes rolling back, lids fluttering speedily. You hated him so much, but it felt so good. To turn dick down this good… would just be a waste. Not only was it long enough to hit your cervix, his cock was thick and veiny and massaged your insides in all the right spots.

“Look at yourself,” he growled, reaching one hand around to pinch your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger. Your lips puckered out like a fish. “Look at what a little whore you are.”

Slowly, you lifted your eyes to the mirror. You couldn’t deny your reflection; your red and white petticoats fluffed up around your waist, your previously perfect curls knotted in his fist, and your face distorted in a whorish display. The cherry on top was every time Kai’s cock bottomed out inside you, you winced and let out the most pathetic, whimpering moan. It was like a bad porn moan, and it was coming from you. Kai’s hand retreated from your face, slithering down to your neck, where he gave a firm, warning squeeze before returning to its place on your hip.

“I bet…” He paused, thrusting hard into your cunt a few times. His words were breathy and laboured. “I bet you’ve been thinking about this since that night. You like this.”

You had — that part was true. The other part about ‘liking’ it? Up for debate. Your pussy certainly did with the way that she clenched her slick walls around his thick cock, hungrily gripping it every time he tried to slide out.

“You fuckin’,” You clenched around him, letting out a shrill moan through gritted teeth. Your voice cracked. “You fuckin’ wish, Kai.”

THWACK!

That one really hurt. Hot tears welled up before streaming down your cheeks, leaving lines in the rouge. Kai slowly leaned over you, pressing his toned stomach against your back and even through clothes, you felt the muscles tensing. He angled his lips right next to your ear, and hissed: “I don’t have to wish for anything. I get everything I want.”

His hot whisper made you shiver violently. And he didn’t — he was right. You were giving him everything he wanted, everything he asked for. Just like one of his little pathetic, whinging groupies. He started pulling you onto his cock, hard, and your entire body seized up, your walls shuddering, pulsing, quivering with the sensation. You pressed your head into the countertop, moaning loud into the sink. The wet, slapping sounds drifted into a singular dull thudding noise; your ears were ringing, your chest heaving. His pace quickened, his thrusts merciless. The taut coil in your tummy wound tighter, creating a deep pressure above your bladder. Your thighs quivered, knees feeling like jello as you tried to hold yourself up against the counter.

“Fuck, Kai - fuck-fuck-I’m gonna’ fucking—

With a winded groan, Kai tensed up, and plunged himself as deep as he could go, pulling your hips hard onto his cock. Hot, white euphoria erupted inside of you, filling you up and oozing out the sides of your cunt with each unsparing thrust he gave. Unable to hold it any longer, you arched, screaming towards the mirror. Kai leaned back and pulled out slightly, just enough to watch as your pathetic little cunt clenched through your own orgasm, fluttering desperately around the tip of his dick. He gathered your underwear again and pulled them up, before snapping them down on your ass. The strings of cum that dripped from you seeped into the fabric, sticky and warm.

Kai reached around again, lifting you up by your neck. This time, his cheek pressed against yours, rubbing it like a dog nuzzling its owner. “You’re going to spend the rest of your little gathering feeling that, understood?”

You said nothing and he gripped harder; slight pressure on your windpipe.

“Understood?” Again, nothing and Kai pressed his palm against your throat until you gasped, thrashing your head up and down in a panic. “SAY IT.”

A weird whine came from your throat as you desperately gasped for air. Your pupils dilated. Finally, you croaked: “I-I’m going to feel your c-cum between my… my-legs all night long.”

The pressure released, and Kai had turned away from you, busy stuffing his heavy, flaccid cock back into his dark jeans. Shakily, you straightened up, pulling your skirts back down where they were intended to sit. Thankfully, he hadn’t fucked up your makeup like he did last time - you could pass as just a tipsy girl who had just smeared her mascara a little.

Once you two were downstairs, you paused at the bottom of the stairs. The party thrived; nobody had noticed you were gone. You heaved a sigh of relief, knowing that now, nobody could pin it against you. No questions, no accusations. Me? Fucking Kai Anderson? Absolutely not, I’d rather die. Gag.

“We’ll have to discuss your constant lying at a later date.” And with that, he was gone. Gone to spread the good word of his weird little fucked up cult, and get more people to campaign for him, or whatever it is he did. You watched him, eyes narrowed, as he manoeuvred through the groups of people. He’d done it again. Motherfucker. You shifted your weight, feeling the sticky mess between your legs as dried into the fabric of your panties.

Coming down off the orgasm was one of the worst feelings; reality set in, and you were painfully reminded that you’d just fucked your sworn enemy. A poster boy of toxic masculinity had just filled you up with his seed. Sickening. A voice from behind jolted you out of your fuming stupor — Winter.

“You should really stop lying to him.”

You barked out a flabbergasted laugh. “That’s what I should stop, Winter? Lying to him?”

“Yeah,” she muttered lowly. “He hates liars.”

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @garykingz/ @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @tatesdisasterofalover / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @enchanting-evan / @yesdevineruler / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @violetharmonscupcake / @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @demxnicprxncess / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @piecesofcain / @lilthbunny / @quickandsilvers / @tatelangdonsweater / @ifeeltoofuckingmuch / @howtobesasha / @randominstake / @throwinginmythai / @hyperharlz / @poltoreveur

#i'm literally so sorry if this is bad #i'm v insecure over this fic because the writing juices have just not been there lately folks #kai anderson #kai anderson x you #kai anderson x reader #kai anderson smut #ahs smut #myfics #lizzieslazykinktober

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boltsficexchange · 7 months ago

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*taps mic* Is this thing on?

#hockey rpf #fic exchange #bolts fic exchange #tampa bay lightning

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inuyashaluver · 1 year ago

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hi! can i request a leila ouahabi fic where laia exposes that reader is her celebrity crush in a man city video and it blows up online and reader sees it, they start talking and then start dating!

celebrity crush - leila ouahabi

leila ouahabi x reader

description: in which leila says you’re her celebrity crush in a q&a video, how will you react when you’re in her rival team

warnings: suggestive if you squint

a/n: hiii, hope you enjoy the way i approached this, thanks for the request!

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ �� ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your girlfriend, leila have to thank the manchester city and manchester united media teams for your relationship blossoming out of silly, mutual crushes.

you play for manchester united, being signed to them for over 6 years, you first met leila during a derby match in 2022. you have to admit, she left quite a good impression, first of all - she was gorgeous, she carried herself well and was an amazing player, you couldn’t help but feel intrigued by her.

leila found you extremely attractive, and so, during half time, she asked lauren hemp about you with flushed cheeks. lauren was your national teammate, she immediately smirks at the girl asking for you. “she’s a good friend, ouahabi, what, do you need me to put in a good word?” leila’s eyes widen, “no no no” she protests with a nervous laugh, “i just think she’s a good player” she rubs the back of her neck sheepishly. “hm okay” lauren says unconvinced.

you played in the midfield, occasionally, leila would come up to defend you when the ball was in play, always placing a gentle hand on you. you couldn’t help but grow a little distracted but snapping out of it when you realise the situation. that doesn’t mean you don’t miss the contact when it’s gone.

the game had finished in a draw, girls on both of the teams having frustrated expressions. you walk around the pitch, shaking hands and exchanging small conversations with the people you knew. you ran up to lauren and jumped on her, giving her a tight hug. “hempo!” you exclaim with a bright smile, you hadn’t seen her in a little bit. esme bolts over to wrap you both up in a hug, the three of you jumping around in a circle. you laugh as you all pull away, catching up with your teammates about random parts of their lives.

lauren couldn’t help but notice leila lingering with laia in the corner, watching them whispering. she excuses herself for a second and grabs leila despite her protests, pushing her into you, causing you to stumble forward, esme catching you. “woah” you laugh, turning around and making eye contact with the brunette.

“oh hey, leila right?” she nods and smiles at you, surprised when you pull her into a quick hug. “great game, had me panicking a couple times, i have to say” you grin at her and she smiles back brightly (she didn’t need to know exactly how she made you panic) , “you’re really good, you had me panicking a bit too” she says, matching your energy. you hear ella calling for you and you turn.

“well my rivals, lovely to see and meet you, but duty calls” you tap the logo on your heart and individually pull the three into a hug, saving leila for last, you were immediately engulfed in her scent, vanilla. how did she smell good after playing a full 90 minutes? - she was thinking the exact same thing about you. you send her another quick smile before running off.

there wasn’t a day that didn’t go by where the both of you didn’t think about each other constantly. immediately following each other on social media the day of your interaction.

—

you hadn’t seen each other in a while, only on derby days. every time you saw each other, it was just enjoyable, the two of you got along really well, embraces getting longer, and conversations came more freely and comfortably.

you had a day off for once, deciding to sleep in..well you tried, until your phone was blowing up with notification after notification. you immediately think the worst and see that everyone is telling you to check twitter, seeing that you're trending. you let out a sharp exhale before clicking on your name.

the first video had leila on the front and you quirk your brow, pressing play:

interviewer: “leila, who is your celebrity crush?”

leila smiles shyly and rubs the back of her neck and pauses for a moment.

leila: “well i have someone on my mind”

she teases

interviewer: “could you share it with us?”

leila lets out a chuckle, nodding her head with a soft smile

leila: “now don’t kill me for this but (y/n) (y/l/n) in manchester united is very cute, i like her a lot”

interviewer: “is this like a friend crush?”

leila: “oh definitely not, it’s a regular one”

she smirks at the camera, sending a small wink.

your throat goes dry, the girl you had been crushing on felt the same. embarrassingly, you watch the video again, smiling shyly at hearing your name come from her mouth. you hate to admit that you replayed the video multiple times that day.

—

you arrive at training the next day and are immediately teased as soon as you come in. mainly lucia, knowing the girl personally from her national team. “enough” was definitely used by you at least 100 times in reply - but not without your bright, pink cheeks on full display.

it seemed to have completely slip your mind that today was media day. you groan as you get pulled for a q&a video, already knowing what was coming.

interviewer: “i’m sure you know what questions we're going to ask you?”

you nod your head with a smile and a laugh, gesturing them to continue

interviewer: “who’s your celebrity crush?”

you smile shyly, feeling your face get warmer by the second. letting out a laugh, you lean forward, using one of your hands to cup the side of your mouth.

(y/n): “between you and i, leila ouahabi, i like her a lot, she’s very cute and talented”

you lean back cheekily, proud of yourself for making the bold move back, you definitely need this girl’s number instead of flirting over the internet

interviewer: “and is this a friend crush?”

the interviewer mocks the manchester city interviewer

you let out a bright laugh, wiping a few tears of laughter out of your eye.

(y/n): definitely, definitely not, a regular one for sure

you hold out a phone gesture to your ear and match leila’s wink at the camera

and of course, the video absolutely blew up, both of them getting edited together and posted literally everywhere. leila saw your video and had the exact same reaction you did, replaying it constantly throughout the day just so she could see your pretty face say her name so sweetly.

you made the move and asked lauren for leila’s number and immediately texting her.

from: (y/n)

hello my crush

from: leila

ahh hello my crush!

from: (y/n)

can i see you soon?

from: leila

you can see me whenever you want, amor (love)

the two of you had started texting, calling and facetiming for weeks, meeting up in manchester to go to lunches and other small dates. your ‘friendship’ was really just the two of you flirting and touching each other, it quickly developed into a romantic relationship, both of you decided to debut it during another derby day.

both of your teammates had known all about it, constantly prying into the both of you for details. and so, 20 minutes before you’re supposed to line up in the tunnel, you go and meet your rival team girlfriend. you knock on their change room door and esme answers it. “why hello!” she smirks at you, “ouahabi, it’s for you” you see your girlfriend perk up in the corner, her beautiful smile gracing her features. she hurriedly walks up to you, placing a hand on your waist and closing the door, directing you down the hallway in an empty spot.

“mi amor (my love)” she smirks, her eyes flickering between yours and your lips. “hi pretty girl” you move to place a kiss on her cheek but she moves her head quickly so you kiss her lips. she grabs the back of your head with one hand while the other squeezes the flesh of your waist, you cup her face with your hands and run your thumbs over the apples of her cheek. she gently pushes your back onto the wall and kisses you more passionately, her tongue infiltrating your mouth and pulling you closer so your chest was flush with hers. she dips her head to place a three kisses on your neck before pulling back to take in your appearance.

“so pretty” your lips were kiss swollen with blown out pupils as you smiled up at her. “you’re so pretty” she places a kiss on your nose and whispers in your ear, “be a good girl and let us win, bebé (baby)?” she presses a kiss to the tip of your ear. you grip onto the collar of her shirt and bring her towards you, “let us win and i’ll make it worth your time?” both of you look at each other challengingly, your competitive sides coming out.

“now you’re not my girlfriend, you’re the enemy, go away!” she lightly shoves your shoulder, but not before giving you another quick peck on your lips, “aw really?” you mock her with a pout, “yes really, i still have a crush on you though” you laugh at her words, sending her a wave and a wink before walking back to your change room, leila shamelessly checking you out as you walk away, only you could make her heart beat out of her chest in a manchester united kit.

—

the game was going well, you and leila played professionally for your teams and not letting your relationship come into play. manchester united were in the lead by 2-1. leila was marking you with a hand on your waist, you lightly press into her with your back before running from her and shooting the ball towards the net, securing another goal and making the score 3-1, your team huddle around you to congratulate you on the goal, you return to your position but not without leila squeezing your bicep as you walked past her. the final whistle blows just two minutes after your goal.

you exchange hugs and smiles with your teammates and make your round with the city girls. finding esme and lauren and giving them tight hugs before they push you towards you awaiting girlfriend. she opens her arms out to you and you step into her warm embrace. your arms thread around her neck as you holds you round the waist, lifting you off the ground and smiling when your legs wrap around her.

you look down at her with a soft smile, “sorry, baby” she shakes her head lightly at you, “you deserved it with that goal, mi amor (my love), i believe you said something about making the win worth my time?” she smirks cheekily at you, slightly breathless from playing a full 90 minutes. “oh did i?” you act confused before she lightly pinches the side of your stomach, letting out a laugh together. she places you on the ground but the two of you don’t remove yourselves from the embrace.

“can i say congratulations?” she questions, smiling when you nod at her. she places a finger under your chin to point your head upwards at her and places a sweet kiss on your lips. you smile into it when you hear the number of fans and your teammates cheering for the both of you. she pulls away reluctantly, keeping it relatively tame for both of your sake, knowing the two of you got carried away quickly and frequently.

“i’ll see you later?” she whispers against your lips placing a quick peck there, you hum at her words, mind gone completely hazy and only focusing on her. she smiles at you, pulling you into another quick hug before waving goodbye sadly - the both of you would meet with each other in about an hour.

every second you spend with your girlfriend, you feel eternally grateful for the manchester city and united media teams for making you both so bold.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

liked by lauren_hemp and 44,232 other:

leilaouahabi: my celebrity crush everyone, @/yourname

view all comments

yourname: my celebrity crush is hotter

↳ leilaouahabi: mine’s hotter

↳ yourname: do you want to make a bet?

↳ leilaouahabi: name your price bebé (baby)

lauren_hemp: this was all me, you’re welcome

↳ yourname: thanks hempo!!

↳ esme.morgan: what! me too!

↳ leilaouahabi: thanks es!

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso x reader #woso imagine #leila ouahabi #leila ouahabi x reader

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gluion · 5 months ago

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four-letter word ➵ myung jaehyun

myung jaehyun x gn!reader

you’d go anywhere so long as jaehyun’s there

genre/warnings ➵ friends to lovers, fluff, kissing, loser!jaehyun, reader is around the same height as jaehyun, minimal plot just vibes

word count ➵ 1k words

a/n ➵ me and my obsession with the beach... i don't even like it that much (yup so self-insert) anyway, making my offical debut in onedoorblr!!! please accept me… i love bonedo so much they have been taking up my life and my delusions so badly </3 i love this loser so much and i love writing loser bonedo!!! so if u guys do like that, i have an upcoming loser!leehan fic as well :33 if you enjoyed this, please do reblog and leave feedback!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

there were many reasons behind your dislike for the beach; the scorching heat that makes you itch, the sand that clings on wet feet, and the salt water that stings your cheeks. with every beach trip you were seemingly forced to go on, you’d prefer to stay away from the shore.

yet, you find yourself by the sea—wearing an oversized jacket and shoes—watching the dim, cloudless sky with jaehyun. fingers interlocked. synched heartbeats.

you look over at him and see him staring off into nowhere as he breathes in the salt air, and you wonder what’s rummaging through his mind.

it’s been two years since jaehyun came into your life, at a party you don’t even recall who hosted. with a goal to refill your cup, you stumbled upon the boy who was mixing up drinks for his friends. you were going to wait until he let go of the vodka, throw in that liquor with any chaser you could find in the kitchen, but there was a moment where his laughs died down—and his wide eyes settled on you. they shine like the sea that glistens on a sunny day, and you can’t help but hope to witness it once more.

that night was only the start. for a series of smiles. for the quiet exchanges of laughter. for a warmth that would accompany for you a lifetime—only if you let it.

over the course of knowing jaehyun, you learned of a boy past the grins and silly antics. beyond the extroverted persona is a boy who lives by the four-letter word: care. every action he makes is one done with such purpose. if he were to crack a joke, it’s done to uplift the mood. if he were to scold his friend, it’s done to look over their wellbeing.

if he were to hold your hand, during the colder season at a place you didn’t like, it’s done to keep you warm. to hold you close. to tell you, thank you for coming with me. to show you how much of the four-letter word he had stored in himself—all for you.

and you don’t know why it took you so long to accept it. all the nights you two spent at his place with arms interlocked. times when he joined you in shopping for groceries. the moments where you two allowed yourselves to simply exist.

yet, he waited.

patiently.

without a second thought, you close the distance between you two—your lips meeting his cheek—for only a second, and jaehyun’s calm expression morphs into shock. his shoulders still as his mouth parts open. once you giggle, jaehyun looks back at you, and he crumbles. he faces down to the sand beneath his feet, knees bent, but he continues to hold your hand.

“why?” you ask as you crouch beside him. with his flustered reaction, you can’t hold back your giggles. so you close the distance once more, this time kissing the tips of his ears that have gone red, and he yelps. you laugh once more before asking again, “why?”

before you know it, he looks up from the sand, his shocked expression threatening to turn into a smile. you both know that he can’t hide how he feels about what you did, so he pulls his hand away from yours as he stands up straight. for a moment, you frown in confusion until he bolts into nowhere.

you try to chase after him. “jaehyun! what are you doing?!” still, he continues to run as squeals leave him.

jaehyun’s reaction is a reminder of how much of the four-letter word he has in store for you—a testament to his love for you.

you find yourself getting tired, pants starting to escape you, so you give up on trying to catch him. as he spots your steps faltering, he runs towards you. his arms wrap around you, holding you close so you can bask in his warmth for you.

“you can’t just do that and expect me to be normal about it,” he points out which only causes you to laugh.

“who says i wanted you to be normal about it? you know i like it when you’re a loser,” you move your lips close to his, and his eyes turn wide over the distance, “especially for me.”

and he can’t hold back his smile. because he knew from the moment his eyes landed on you that he would do anything to make you laugh. to have you rest. to let you feel the warmth of his love.

unfortunately, that only became clear to you now, but jaehyun wouldn’t have it any other way.

he beats you to it, his lips meeting yours. his hand reaches for your neck and his thumb draws circles over your cheek. the action feels familiar to you, almost like you’ve kissed him before—but he explores you like he’s waited a lifetime for this moment. to drink you up like the remnants of wine at the bottom of the barrel. your head starts to spin over how soft his lips are. the brush of his nose against yours only has you breathing him in, and he can’t help but want more. his breathing turns short, almost like a fire would start in his lungs, but he can’t imagine letting you go.

it’s a kiss out of desire. out of yearning. out of contentment.

you pull back, trying to catch your breath as you lean your forehead against his. an exchange of laughter leaves you two before you meet his eyes once more. they shine the same way you first met him. it’s funny how they resemble a piece of a place you hate, but it’s the one thing you can’t deny its beauty.

and maybe you’ll continue to dislike the beach for all the same reasons. all the times you found yourself uncomfortable from the heat and sand remind you of why you would never like going to the beach.

but this place is an exception. you’ll go to any place so long as jaehyun is there.

taglist: @kflixnet @blankjournal

#works of moni #kflixnet #bjnet #k-labels #boynextdoor #myung jaehyun #myung jaehyun x reader #myung jaehyun fluff #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor fluff #myung jaehyung imagines #boynextdoor imagines

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adventuringblind · 9 months ago

Text

Safety In Your Arms

Dando x Reader

Genre: Hurt-comfort, maybe spicy via implied smut

Summary: Sometimes things go horribly wrong, nothing like what you expected, and it sends you hurtling towards emotions you never asked for. Lando and Daniel hate to see her this way.

Warnings: implied sexual content prior to and post incident, r@pe, anxiety, panic attacks, worried partners

Notes: Not sure this is exactly what you wanted because I don't write r@pe fantasies... regardless I hope the requester likes it :)

Side Note: Please leave notes! I think I might have been shadow banned recently as my fics are not being interacted with as much as they used to. Maybe it's just me being self-conscious because I know I couldn't care but I do.

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

Her heart thumping in her ears is all she can hear. Just last night, this had been something special and intimate. It was beautiful and loving. Now a stranger thinks he take something that isn't his.

Daniel and Lando are the only ones aloud to touch her like this. Their touch sends shivers down her spine in a pleasant way. This man makes her burn. His grip keeping her pinned to the wall feels like lighter being held against the bare flesh of her hips.

She was almost to the room. Back to the safety of her boys. Just up the stairs and down the hall. Curse the elevator for not working.

She's not sure where the adrenaline comes from. Her fight or flight response is pulling from some unknown energy reserve. It's enough for her to push him off her.

He falls backwards down the stairs. He's disoriented but still conscious. He looks like he might fight his way back to her and finish what he started.

She bolts. Her legs carry her to the door of her shared room. Fists bang on the door in terror.

The door to the stairwell slams open. She leans her weight into the door and slides down. Tears stream down her face at the hopelessness she feels in this situation.

The door flings open. Daniel on the other side catches her crumbling body before it hits the ground. She pushes inside and finds the farthest corner of the room.

She sees the silhouette of the man come to face Daniel. Lando is crouched down in front of her, trying to coax some kind of explanation out of her. She's too worked up to respond.

The loud crack of Daniel's knuckles fills her ears. Her attacker stumbles backwards once more, this time he's out cold. His body falls to the ground, with a soft thud muffled only by the carpeted floors.

Lando exchanges a few words with Daniel. The ringing in her ears makes it hard to understand. It's not until Lando hands her his sweatshirt to hold and Daniel is on the phone that she registers the safety.

"He - He - I was -" She can't even get the words out. Not without realizing how pathetic she sounds.

"Okay, breathe now love, you're safe." She takes a few breathes with Lando. "Can we try some yes or no questions?"

She hesitantly shakes her head yes. Slowly, she reaches to Lando. He intertwines his fingers with hers and both of them relax.

"Did her hit you at all?"

Yes. When he first got her against the wall.

"Did he touch you anywhere intimate?" Lando looks like he's trying not to cringe.

Yes. Everywhere. It burns still.

Lando look on the verge of tears. He's always been empathetic, hurting with them. "Did he - did he rape you?"

She breaks. Burries her face in Lando's sweatshirt and wails. Lando is careful not to touch her in any harsh way; lets her lead him.

Daniel clambers onto the floor with them. She doesn't look at him, but she knows he's there and that's enough. "Love, I'm so sorry this happened to you. The authorities are on their way to take, whoever that was, away. The question now is how you want to go forward." Daniel takes a heavy breath before continuing when she doesn't respond. "We have to go to the hospital, love. I don't want you to suffer any more than you already have."

She's still crying as they bundle her up in Lando's sweatshirt and Daniel's sweats. The soft baggy ones she steals from him all the time regardless.

"Dan, what about... him?" Lando stares at the man lying on the floor. She has to will herself not to vomit at the sight of him.

"I'll meet you there, okay? The police should be here soon." Lando looks hesitant to leave without Daniel. The Aussie plants a reassuring kiss to his forehead. "Take care of our girl, yeah?"

By the time they get checked in, Daniel texts that he's on his way. She hasn't said anything else since the hotel room, but Lando kindly offers her one of his airpods. The music helps, if only a little.

The nurse takes her back to the room alone. She wails the entire time until they let Lando, now with Daniel on his heels, back with her.

She dissociates through the entire visit. Not coherent enough to answer anything but yes or no questions.

The next few days are more of them same. Only getting out of bed to sit in the shower. The water hot enough to burn away her skin.

Daniel tells Max they had an emergency but doesn't go into any details. Max lets them fly out with him. She doesn't talk to him. Too tired to use any energy on conversation.

Daniel and Lando respect her space. They ask before touching her. They announce their presences, especially if they are behind her.

The bruises fade eventually. It's not like the physical evidence was going to remain on her forever. Still, with his handprints gone for her sight, they burn her every time the area is touched.

She doesn't wear anything aside from Lando and Daniel's clothes that are too big on her. Not until they are back in Monaco for the summer break. Four months after the incident.

Daniel gently coaxes her out of the warm clothing. The boys give her space until she's ready to join them and respect her boundaries when she asks not to be touched.

Her skin still burns.

By the end of summer break, she's had time to work her way up to new things. Small bits of skin-on-skin contact and hugs are quickly becoming her new lifeline. She missed being able to not fear the touch of another. Her mind tends to forget she's safe and fights anyone who tries to get to close.

By September she's able to sleep in the same bed as them without waking up panicked that they are going to hurt her in some way. The nightmares remain, but now she clings to the two males when she wakes crying.

On a particularly charged night filled with celebrations. The three of them work through it at her pace. She sets boundaries like her therapist had told her to do. Daniel and Lando tell her everything they are going to do before they lay a finger on her.

She missed this.

She missed them.

Their hands don't burn her skin anymore.

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lanafofana · 22 days ago

Text

Temptation

Pairing: Raphael x Tav(f)

Word count: 3.6k

Summary: She won't sign another contract but she’s not opposed to a different kind of deal

Rating: Explicit [🔞MINORS DNI]

Warning: Porn! Filthy depraved devil porn! A little bit of hate sex (PnV with a little PVP), ( she throws hands twice)(but he's into it). Cunnilingus, because it wouldn't be a Lana fic if a tongue wasn't getting shoved in someone's [redacted]. A little bit of toxic relationship dynamics at play (devil gonna devil). SMUT SMUT SMUT

No beta, we die like pumpkin pie (listen, it's been a long night)

💖✨Kudos to @dr-demi-bee for the prompt✨💖

AO3 Link here for all who celebrate the time honored tradition of validating authors via kudos etc etc etc

“The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it.”

Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

Raphael doesn't look surprised to see her anymore. Merely gives her a look when she finds him on the balcony of his Archive and snaps his fingers to conjure her a drink that appears in her hand before returning his attention back to the fiend giving him some kind of report in the guttural language of the infernal.

She slips away, perusing his collection of tomes from some kingdom long dead and sipping at her wine. It's too sweet, cherry rich and decadent but the alcohol burns pleasantly warm in her belly. Later, sprawled across a lavish settee, an open book in her lap, Tav is trying to untangle a web of mental snares that have put her in a melancholy mood of late when Raphael finds her.

He doesn't say anything for a long time but she can feel his gaze taking her in with more precision now that he can afford his full attention to the task. The predator, sizing up the prey. Her skin prickles.

She's returned to his house with more frequency of late and though he’s never brought it up she’s struck with the sudden anxiety that she is overstaying her welcome. Draining her glass of wine she swishes the liquid around her mouth while watching the crystal goblet refill in a blink. He's never asked why she’s decided to help herself to his company or tries to dissuade her attention when she comes calling. There's a mystery there she’s too afraid to pursue. She sighs and takes another drink.

Footsteps, steady and deliberately slow, approach. The predator, stalking their prey. Turning a page in the book she isn't reading Tav pretends his proximity doesn't send a bolt of heat and fear fizzling along her spine. In her peripheral he stops, a looming metaphor for the direction her choices are driving her to. A finger, warm and familiar, presses against the soft vulnerable space just past the jut of her chin and tilts her face to meet his.

“Have you come to bargain?” His dark eyes drink in her face, giving nothing away.

He already knows the answer to that question but she answers it anyway, deriving a weird sort of comfort from the repetitive nature of this exchange they've replayed so many times they might as well have memorized a script.

“No.”

His eyes narrow and she doesn't hear the snap but her wine glass and book both vanish. Standing involves significantly more motor skills than she presently possesses so, with a smirk, the devil offers her a courteous hand and hauls her up. Her breasts graze against the broad expanse of his chest before she gains her bearings and straightens. He doesn't let go of her hand.

“What then do you seek from the House of Hope?” His voice is mocking but his eyes are hungry. Tav knows the steps to this dance by heart but she’s hungry too. Famished.

Grasping the collar of his opulent coat she tugs him into her orbit, sliding a hand into his hair and pressing her lips to his. He tastes like hellfire and forbidden fruit.

The edges of her vision white out for a moment when he displaces them to his quarters, his infernal magic buzzes against her tongue pleasantly. Pressing close with nothing but fabric between them she shifts, a calculated movement to stoke the fire of his desire.

“Crawling and secret she constructs her own web, a trap for her prey, fallen into instead.” Raphael wedges his knees between her legs and, hands tight on her hips, bows her back to wrest control from her. Dizzy with drink and anxiety and lust Tav grinds against his thigh, seeking the friction that will at last unwind her mind.

“Needs work,” she critiques unnecessarily, breathless and smirking. He nips her bottom lip, pulling the plump flesh taunt in chastisement but it makes her lashes flutter, her clit throbbing against his thigh.

Huffing a laugh at his petulance she pulls away. Pulling her clothes loose and discarding them under his dark gaze while backing towards the bed. The backs of her knees hitting the edge of the mattress, she beckons and –after a moment– he follows, unbuttoning his doublet slowly.

“Go on then,” she teases, heedless of the black warning in his face, “Seduce me with your limerick.”

“A mouthwatering fruit, this human heart.” He sheds his jacket, the shirt too, preening under her appreciative stare. “Devastating, damned, and doomed from the start.”

She swallows, mouth dry as he approaches and comes to a stop close enough to feel the heat off his skin.

“Dazzling, delicious but,” he looks at her critically for a moment, “Not very rare, this cracking soul is fetid with,” Raphael leans in, to take in her scent deeply. Closing his eyes he murmurs lasciviously, breath hot against her ear, “Despair.”

She throbs with need.

Wrapping a hand around her throat he pauses only long enough to take her pulse, sneering at the staccato beat, before sliding his hand down her chest, to her breast. With both hands he gropes her roughly, squeezing and tugging at her nipples till they pucker, rosy and stiff. The expression on his face hasn't changed much, cold and disdainful but his eyes. She shivers under the blistering heat of them.

“Take what you came here for, creature.”

The words are hardly out of his mouth before her hands are on him pulling him close with a rough hand in his hair, yanking his head to the side, putting her teeth to his throat.

She bites him savagely, electric at the needy whine he tries to stifle unsuccessfully. She laves her tongue against the red teeth marks soothingly, hands on his shoulders. His hands have migrated too, palming the swell of her ass. When she runs the edge of her teeth down the column of his throat and licks the dip of his collar bone he smacks an asscheek, the crack sharp and loud in the otherwise quiet room.

In retaliation she sinks her teeth into his shoulder so hard he repeats the action on her other asscheek. She cries out, her inner walls slamming down on nothing.

“Tell me, my dear,” his voice, rough and deep, is commanding. Tav clenches her thighs together in response.

Nothing and no one comes for free in the House of Hope. Each visit to his bed, a transaction between her hunger for his body and his hunger for her pain. Their unspoken devil’s pact. She knows exactly what he wants and her stomach flips in trepidation.

Hands full of her ass he is not gentle when he pulls her against him, grinding her against the hard length of him through his trousers. She whimpers, drawing her nails across his shoulders and scoring livid marks into his skin. “Tell me,” he repeats, a furious snarl, as he shoves her to the bed.

“Then ask, you fucking monster,” she hisses, hitting the mattress with a soft ‘oof’ as the wind is briefly knocked from her lungs.

He follows her descent, aiming to cage her body with his but a spike of adrenaline has her scrambling out from under him. Awkwardly she heaves her way to the head of the bed but he’s faster – stronger– and he snatches her ankle in a fierce grip, dragging her back within range.

Wrapping himself around her, thick cock against her ass, bruising fingers holding her captive against his chest he chuckles. The sound chills her in the same way it sends another trickle of wet desire between her legs.

Close to her ear he breathes his full query at last. “What is the root of your despair?” Her stomach sinks down to her toes, the red flush of her desire doused cold.

What was your last wickedly depraved thought, he's asked her before. When did the thrill of bloodlust last blind you completely to sense; do you hate anyone more than you've hated yourself? She may have never signed another contract with him but somehow he’s found a way to drain her soul, piecemeal, all the same.

“Tell me,” he murmurs against her skin, parting her thighs to drag a finger along her slick wet slit.

The reason for the wine becomes clear to her in that moment. She’s never had inhibitions where sex is concerned. Has never considered it a trial to use her body and let it be used for its skill with a blade, on either side of the sheets.

But put enough wine down her throat and inevitably the secret hurts that haunt her begin to spill out from between her lips.

The devil growls at her hesitation, flipping her over and pinching a nipple between his teeth slightly too hard. Demanding her attention and supplication in all things.

“I–,” she gasps and leaves half moon indentations on his skin when he sticks his tongue in her belly button, swirling his tongue there lazily. “I’m sad, all the time,” she confesses in a rush like it will hurt less to say it fast. Her heart pounds. “I hide from my friends, from everyone, and suffer alone. I’ve always been alone, I’m pretty sure I'll always be alone because it’s–” her breath hitches on a strangled sob when he just barely presses his thumb to her clit and leaves it there, teasing. Torturing. She doesn't want him to ever stop. “I’m too much to be around. Too much unhappiness in one person to inflict on anyone else.”

“Self pity,” Raphael groans with relish and she bristles because of course he's right. “Never looked so lovely than on the utterly pathetic,” the words burn, as they're intended to. “Look at you, mourning yourself to the point of self destruction.”

Blood rushes to the surface of her skin, blooming red and hot across her throat and cheeks. Within her bosom she aches. Raphael hums with pleasure, as drunk on her internal agony as he is on her body.

Feeling flayed open she wails, hands scrabbling for purchase on his skin and in the rumpled bedding, when he sinks a finger fast –and hard–and deep in her dripping, aching cunt. She bites her lip and breathes through the discomfort of letting him see her. The despair and self pity on full display for his perusal. He feasts on her pain like a man deprived of fresh air, reveling in the cocktail of humiliation, fear, and miserably pathetic sorrow.

“Entrust me with your soul and you'll never be alone again, for as long as your pitiful soul flickers,” he vows, working a second digit in with the first. She’s so wet her lips squelch lewdly around his scissoring fingers to punctuate his words.

He means it too. It's far from the first –or the last– time he has promised an eternity to her. Her soul nestled within his grasp forever, damnation tempered with endless companionship. A demon’s version of love. Eternal ownership. The ache in her chest sharpens to a knife’s edge. Thrusting her hips against his hand, her breathing changes, getting deeper and faster as her orgasm inches tantalizingly closer.

Her legs are open but her heart's been closed so long the hinges squeak and grind in complaint at being disturbed. Maybe that's why his canny words rend instead of pierce, like they're claws mauling instead of hands gently stroking. Devils don't know kindness but there's a world of gentleness in the way he peels open her ribcage to curl up in her chest cavity with his insidious intent.

“Kiss me,” she begs. Begs, hoping it will be enough to stem the tide of his incendiary words. Words spoken with the intent to hurt, to disturb, to split the cobbled pieces of her being back into shattered fragments he can hold in his hands. To mold her, shaping her to his will. Without ceremony he crushes her with his mouth, his body, and his desire.

Raphael moves against her, heavy and too big, a threat and a promise that tastes like cherry wine and feels like coming home. The kiss, a miscalculation on her part, steals his voice but replaces wounding words with bruising force. Shoving his tongue into her mouth he seeks only to consume and she moans around the wet intrusion, curling a hand tightly into the hair at the nape of his neck until he hisses against her teeth.

She lets him continue only for so long before the hand she has locked in his hair tugs viscously and she gets a glimpse of his pupils blown wide before his eyes flutter closed. The Archduke Supreme would never admit to his proclivities in bed but he’s not the only one studying his prey during their encounters.

She maneuvers until he's beneath her, breath stuttering in his chest as his ardor intensifies with her forceful take over. The meticulous Archduke Supreme, Lord of the Nine Entire, Devil of False Hope, Cania’s Conquerer might have eaten her whole for the audacity of asking for control in the bedroom but when she takes it…

He groans, squirming and wanton, when she peels herself away from his lips to sink the fingers of one hand around his throat while the fingers of her other hand tug on the laces of his breeches.

“Tav,” he growls, the reverberation of his vocal chords against her hand shooting directly to the heat that burns in her core.

She pulls her hand from around his throat to pull back and strike him across the face. His hips surge up against her desperately. “Silence,” she warns, nimble fingers slipping his throbbing cock from its confines.

The fat head is wet, a glistening mess of his own precum. The smell makes her mouth water. Wrapping her hand around the shaft she pulls at him experimentally, running the calloused pad of her thumb across the leaking slit on top and along the thick vein beneath his glans until he whimpers. The sound makes her smile, the power of her unique position sending a rush of wet slick through the lips of her vulva, dripping down the inside of her thighs.

Moving the hand she just had wrapped around his erection to her own throbbing need she drinks in his expression while he watches her fuck herself on two fingers. She leans back to give him a better view while she circles her own clit, biting her lip and shifting her hips in time with the movements until she’s close, almost too close.

The devil never looks more beautiful than when he’s languishing untouched, desperate and needy and simmering with helpless fury.

“Open that pretty maw, creature,” she sneers, an echo of his earlier epithet.

Obediently his lips part and she leans forward, shoving her fingers into his mouth, pressing against the molten heat of his tongue.

“Suck.”

Tav's eyes flutter, nearly rolling to the back of her skull as the Duke follows her instruction, locking his lips around her slick coated fingers and sucking hard enough to tear her soul through her fingertips. She moans, positioning herself above his pelvis and undulating her hips to rub his delicious head through her slippery folds.

Inside his mouth his tongue swirls across the pads of her fingers and he echoed her moans; pleasing, pretty, broken little sounds that have her sinking onto his cock halfway in her excitement. He bucks, too sharp teeth grazing erotically against her fingers and she withdraws them to backhand him; whip fast and snapping his lust drunk face to the side. He gasps and she revels in the feeling of him jumping against the walls of her sex.

Pulling herself upright she arches her back, giving him a pretty view as she plays with her own breasts, running the tips of her fingers along the goose pimpled flesh of her abdomen.

“Like what you see, devil?” She taunts, sinking a little more around his girth. “Tell me, Archduke,” she smiles cruelly. “Tell me how much you want to fuck this sweet mortal cunt.” She twists her nipples and sinks a little lower on his cock, watching the expressions flit across his face faster than he probably even registers them. She smiles, all teeth. “Beg.”

“Please!” He doesn't even hesitate, voice gone tight. “Please, let me feel you sink that perfect tight cunt onto my cock.” He releases the most delicious open mouthed whine when she does, enveloping him completely. “Please!” He blurts, hands fisting in the bedding, muscles quivering with the restraint to keep from fucking into her.

The stretch is nothing short of divine. Her hips yearn to move, to rock against him, grinding his hips into the bed but she pauses, balancing on the precipice.

“Please, what?” She demands, relishing in the widening of his eyes, the way his mouth hangs open.

“Please,” his eyes close briefly and he swallows thickly, “Archduchess Supreme, My Lady Eternal.”

“Good boy,” she murmurs, warmth suffusing her entirely when he keens at the praise.

Planting her hands on his chest she wastes no more time, fucking herself on his thick cock; fast and hard and rough. Between her fingers she pinches his nipples, leaning forward to swallow his cries as she rides him to the brink. Between her thighs he cants his hips, mindlessly matching her thrust for thrust as his orgasm barrels within reach.

She slips a hand between their bodies, pinching her swollen clit and cries out his name and a litany of swearing as she crests her final peak. Her mind whites out, the walls of her cunt bearing down on his cock so tightly he spills into her with an inarticulate groan.

Their bliss reached, their movements stutter clumsily to a stop, chests heaving and breathless pants peppering the air with the soft sounds of post coital exhaustion.

Tav disengages from Raphael's body slowly, flushing at the rush of slippery fluid that leaks out of her. The devil looks at the mess between her legs, unabashed, a pleased smirk hovering in the corners of his mouth.

Running a finger through their combined spend, shivering on the cusp of overstimulation, she holds his gaze as she reaches up to paint his lips with it.

He doesn't even blink, licking the shine of his own seed from his lips and making a pleased noise, deep in his chest, that echoes in the throb of her empty cunt. Leaning into him, chest to chest, Tav chases the taste of them on his tongue with a redolent kiss, slow and tender. His hands drift along her sweat slick skin, raising goose bumps with each delicate graze of his nails.

Wrapping his arms around her Raphael flips them, startling a sound from her that he chases with teeth and an amused chuckle. Before she registers what he's doing the devil is wedged between her legs, pushing one of her legs wide, fingers sunk tightly into the plush thickness of her thigh while the fingers of his other hand part the puffy lips of her sex.

He stares, transfixed, for only a moment before he bends his head, slotting his lips against her wet, sticky heat. The predator devours the prey. The gluttonous wet sounds of him licking and suckling at her sex sends her brain rocketing away on a tidal wave of sensation. She grasps the back of his head in shock and a haze of overwhelming arousal.

“Raphael!” She cries out when he locks his lips around her clit and sucks. “Nnnggg– ahhh!!”

“Say my name again,” he growls, immediately spearing her with his tongue and twisting to lap at every drop of her slick heat. “Say it!”

“Ra– Raphael! Oh– nnngggahhh!!” If she is his Archduchess then he is her god and she cries out to him, exultantly. “Raphael! Yes! Yes! RAPH–”

He hums his pleasure and the vibration has her sinking both hands into his hair, pressing him closer– harder–

She flexes her hips, rocking against the sensation of his mouth taking her apart, heart slamming against her ribs as her mind spirals faster and faster and–

“RAPHAEL!” Tav’s mind flies apart as she screams her release, back bowed, thighs clenched tight around the Archduke’s ears.

She comes back into her body to the feeling of her fingers being disentangled from their iron grip on his hair. She releases him immediately, flexing her digits and collapsing against the bed as a wave of exhaustion slides over her.

“You,” she pants breathlessly, boneless and still buzzing for the high of her orgasm. “That was–

“Delicious,” he finishes for her with a sinful smile that does nothing to soothe the thunderous beating of her heart.

This time it is the devil who stretches himself over her body, skin against sweaty skin, and presses the taste of her arousal and his spend between their lips in a filthy kiss. When he pulls away Tav’s dazed expression pulls another smile to his face, this one different from the one he usually shows her. Her stomach clenches but in the next moment her face is split in a jaw cracking yawn and when she looks again he looks the same as he always does.

“Sleep, my dear,” he says in a tone that conveys he neither cares if she does or does not. With a snap of his finger he is dressed and polished once more. He drags his eyes down the length of her naked body with an appreciative leer. Another snap and he's gone in a flash of hellfire.

Tav forces her body to move though her limbs feel made of jelly. She crawls between the sheets, the luxurious material cold against her heated skin. Sweat on her scalp and elsewhere on her body sends a shiver down her spine. Cocooned, safe, and spent, she sleeps.

That's All Folks!

#kinktober #raphael x tav #female tav #raphael smut #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 smut #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction

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