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grugruel · 1 month

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His Little Killer

Pairings: Cooper howard x f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: in reluctant companionship with a ghoul, which turns out to be exactly as dreadful as you'd thought. You find yourself in a shoot-out where–post battle–one of your usual fights end way more pleasurable than usual.

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: (violence, blood, death, in typical fallout manners), enemies to lovers, choking, pinv sex, rough sex, fingering, creampie, pet names (darlin', honey, killer, sweetheart), praise, a pinch of degradation.

AN: not yet proofread! Hope yall enjoy! (Yes, I'm unwell.'

Wood shattering, explosions booming–and charging footsteps heading straight for me. 'At my right!' I shout, gesturing in the direction of the steps. My voice barely registering above the racket of the fight.

Nonetheless, he heard me, I knew he did. Because bullets suddenly whizz past my makeshift cover in every direction except to my right.

The ammunition creating sick squelching noises as they collide with their targets, bloodsplatter spraying the walls a horrifying deep red. Meanwhile, in my corner. The heavy footsteps were left wide open to plough through the old wooden barrels I was hiding behind, 'Holy shii-' I squeak as im tackled to the floor with enough force to knock the breath out of my lungs. I try to cough, try to make my lungs open up as the man grabs hold of me. I hit my chest hard, desperately hoping it would do something–

He grabs my boots, pulling me toward him and finally- I get a breath of air. 'Stupid, fucking asshole.' I mutter through clenched teeth as I lunge and wrestle my attacker, our quarreling bodies kicking up a cloud of dust to swirl around us.

The man was big and foul-smelling, maybe it would've been better refered to as an it, considering the animalistic growls, snapping teeth, and fraying lips that bit and lunged at my face. He attempted to pin my arms to the ground while aiming its teeth at my jugular, but I was quicker. My knee smashing into his balls before he had a single thought of defending himself. He cried out in pain and I took my chance to roll him over, pinning him down with my weight instead, and I began throwing a wave of punches to his face, over and over again. 'I said MY right!' I shouted over my shoulder, weeks of fury and frustration bubbling up inside me as it fueled me into beating the ugly mut unrecognizable–when a second force slammed into my back, knocking me onto the ground once again. Another man, now climbing on top of me, his dirty fingers slithering around my throat and-

Another splatter, this time it's his blood–the second man's, and its sprayed all over me.

'Finally. . .' I exhale heavily, thudding back against the floor, splaying out with relief.

'Were really polishin' up on our teamwork.' A gruff voice announced, words coming out slow and steady with that self-satisfied tone which never failed to get on my nerves.

I heaved myself up on my forearms, angling my body so what remained of the man slumped off of me, and the source of the voice appeared like a specter from the dead man's shadow. 'You're a real pretty sight when ridin' a man like that.' He said, nodding to the guy with a bashed face.

I rolled my eyes, unbelievable. 'You mean while beating the shit out of him?' I ask, my voice pitching higher as I couldnt quite fathom the nerve of that man, despite forcing myself to get used to it over the past few weeks.

He hummed. 'Mhm, really got me goin' for a sec.'

My face scrunched up in disgust. 'Fucking cowboys.' I spat, renouncing the idea loudly. But, quietly, inside my mind, the thought had my core purring unwillingly.

'I shot right, just like you asked.' He shrugged, stalking closer, the drawl in his voice washing through the barren and now battered bar.

'The hell you did!' I hissed. He stopped at my feet, looming over me with his tall frame, frayed coat swaying around his chins, and that stupid cowboy hat covering half his face just like always. We'd been forced travelling companions for a while now, and I could say a lot of nasty things about him, but it was hard to deny- he was a real fucking apocalypse cowboy. Pretty cool if you cut his personality out of the picture.

'I said my right, what the fuck else do you think I ment with "my"?' I kick the lifeless body with my boot, emphasising my point.

'Well. . .' He shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. '. . .my, right.' He smirked.

I shook my head, shooting him daggers. 'Not even you are moronic enough to get that wrong, ghoul.'

'Well, you're right.' He admitted, shocking me for a second. But then, the problem I've always had with him, inescapable and always the same–he never shut his damn mouth when he ought to–and continued, 'You need to work om your phrasin', honey.'

I shut my eyes, screwing them together so tight I began wishing I could disintegrate from annoyance and seep through the cracks between the weathered floorboards like a corn of sand. But no, I was stuck with him, and had to lay there listening to his idiocy. 'How–?' I sighed a heavy, exasperated sigh. '–is it possible for a man to be so full of himself, yet- never talk about himself?'

'Tricks of the trade, sweetheart.' He winked, clicking his tongue while those forsaken eyes roamed my body like a predator sizing up it's prey, and extended a hand toward me as if it were no big deal.

Exhausted as I was, accepting his help seemed sorely tempting to my tired body. After a moments hesitation, I decided–once, wouldn't harm my morals. So, I grabbed his hand with reluctance and let him pull me to my feet. 'I could've died, I hope you realise.'

'Yes. . . But you didn't.' His lips pulling into a grin. 'I wouldn't let that happen'.'

'You're a real bastard, y'know that?' the words left my lips with an unintentional drawl, damn that man.

The ghoul cocked an inexistent eyebrow. 'If I didnt know any better, I'd say im rubbin' of on you, honey.'

Another scoff from me. 'The only thing you're rubbing–is me the wrong way.' I spat, this time making a point of speaking as plainly as possible.

His eyes lit up suspiciously, filling with mischief as his widening smile creased them. 'Well, tell me how you like it then and I'll do it the right way.' He smirked, his voice gravely as it scraped along my spine with a shiver. He always did this, He'd call me nicknames, flirt with me. All cause he knew I hated it. But now he's just bordering on harassment. It did however, not, stop the heat from rising to my cheeks, or for a blush to seep through my skin. He'd staggered me, I truly didn't know how to react. What happened next was purely instinctively driven–

The palm of my hand made contact with his cheek, a crisp slap sounding out through the room. I even confused myself for a moment, almost as I was the one who'd been hit. But I would've been furious, how he reacted, well. . .

'There you are. . .' He purred, his tone lethal. '. . .my little killer.' A grin spreading across his face as he took a step closer.

He was pure poison, somehow both hot and cold as he ran through my veins. 'I ain't yours.' He wss the only person- ghoul, who could get on every nerve I possessed, lighting it ablaze with frustration.

'No. . .? You ain't?' He chuckled, 'You're sure startin' to sound like it, sweetheart. I see the way you look at me, the way you blush when I call you pretty little names.' He nodded toward my eyes, his hat tipping with the movement as he took another step, gaining on the precious distance between us. I feared he was right, too, my cheeks burned in a way I'd never noticed before. Had I always reacted like this? Before I knew it–I'd flung my palm for his face a once again-

Only this time, he caught my wrist. 'Tsk tsk tsk, you can do better than that, killer.' He let go off me, forcefully shoving my arm back to my side with a scoff.

But now, I'm the one stepping closer, pushing him away by the chest simultaneously. 'I hate you.' I spit, taking another step and push again, but this time he doesn't budge, and I was left standing mere inches away from him, my hands pressed firmly against his chest as my own heaved with frustrated breaths, strands of hair hanging over my face from the ordeal.

'Good. . .' He whispered, brushing wild strands of hair from my face. '. . .Now, show me how much you hate me.'

I could've slapped him again, pushed him again, done anything else than what I actually did. But my body acted on instinct, again-

I crashed into him, my hands grabbing his face as our lips met in a battle for control. He released a breathy moan, his trigger ready hands finding my waist impossibly quick to pull me flush against him, our bodies clashing together in a thud. He hummed. 'That's right, killer. Show me.' He whispered in the air-swallowing gasps between our kisses.

I put pressure behind my hands, walking him backward while my fingers found the buttons of his vest. Undoing them along with the shirt, then slid his coat and vest down his shoulders in one go, right before his back collided with the bar top. My hands found themselves making their beneath his shirt, feeling the dents of his scarred chest as I sucked his lip between my teeth, and bit down. A sharp hiss escaped him, quickly being replaced by a wide grin. 'Naughty girl.' He breathed.

Smiling, I pushed myself off of him. 'You bring it out of me.' I panted, pulling my shirt over my head and unhooking my bra, letting it fall to the floor.

He leaned back against the bar, bracing himself on his elbows as his eyes roamed over my bare chest and flushed face. 'Those are the prettiest fuckin' tit's I've ever seen. . .' He spoke in a low voice, too filled with lust to allow him anything else. 'Now, would you mind.' His hand gestured below my waist, his index finger sliding through the air as he traced the buttons of my pants from a distance.

And an idea struck me, suddenly feeling like I wanted to indulge myself in a little torture. Turning around, I did as he told me and began unbuttoning them, slowly. Terribly, terribly slowly. Sliding them over my hips and down my thighs, bucking my knees and bending over slightly as I pulled my panties down along with them. Just as I stepped out if them and looked over my shoulder to give him a coy little look, perhaps revel in the feeling of his pained expression–I was in for a surprise.

Turning my head over my shoulder, I came fave to face with him, but he wasn't just standing there- no. He collided with my back, his arms already wrapped around ny front to catch me. His shirt bow nowhere to be seen. 'Enough.' He growled, one strong arm wrapping around my breasts as the other wrapped around my waist. He raised me off the floor, held tightly against his chest. I squeeked, giggling as I pulled my legs up. Completley overcome with the anticipation of what was about to befall me–then I all of a sudden found myself pushed over the bar top, chest against the smooth luke warm surface. The quality off it telling me it hadn't been bought when fitted into this weathered building.

Then, the clanging of metal, leather groaning, friction, and his belt hit the floor. Gruff hands ran over the swell of my ass and down the arch of my back, taking his time to feel all of me. 'Been thinkin' 'bout this, how you'd feel falling apart beneath me, on top of me–' he leaned over me, hand wrapping around my neck as he pulled me flush against him only to whisper in my ear. '–around me. . .' He breathed, dragging the words out. '. . . All wet 'n messy with my cum fillin' you up.'

A moan left my lips. 'Show me.' Was all I could get out, a silent pleading to make all those thoughts a reality–and so he did.

Before I knew it, a hand had disappeared to line himself up with my entrance, pushing inside me without as much as a warning.

'Fuck!' I cried out, my voice breaking as my breath left me. It felt never ending, he was huge. But oh, he felt so good.

He groaned, finally stopping as he'd sunken all the way into my core. 'So wet for me already.' His hand slid over my back and shoulder, molding itself to my throat as the other grabbed my hip. Already flush with my back, he inclined his head, leaving trail of kisses along my spine and neck.

'Fuck me, please Coop-' it was the first time I'd called him by his name, and I realised it the second it left my lips.

His lips curled against my skin, a smile-

He thrusted into me, again and again. My back arching into an angled I had no idea it was capable of, helping him hit my core at every rut of his hips–not that he needed it. The 200+ years of experience really showed, and they were definitely felt.

The bar was dead silent, no noise except for our joint breaths of pleasure and the sound of slapping skin. It was lewd and brutal, and It made me absolutely delerious. His low, pained grunting in my ear did nothing to ease the matter. He'd created an aching so strong within me I wasn't sure It'd ever be able to be tamed.

'Harder, harder, please.' I stuttered, the words barely coming out between my heavy pants. Fuck, he made me feral. Without even trying, that's just what he was capable of. It annoyed me, he managed to annoy me while fucking me senseless. Oh, how I wish I could hate him, but there was no going back now.

Coop left little love bites all along my shoulder, and up the side of my throat, nipping and kissing in equal meassure as his breathing warmed my skin deliciously. Doing it all with such precision I couldnt understand, his thrust were rocking my emtire body, his chest rubbing againdt my back, yet he could be so delicate. I side ive never seen before. 'Little killer ain't so tough no more, is she?' He whispered, placing a kiss behind my ear before biting the lobe, tugging in it gently.

'. . . Mmh- 'm not, I'm not.' I got out. I was whatever he said I was while he delivered this type of pleasure on a silver platter. I didn't care, my morals had been thrown out the window the second his lips touched mine.

'Well, look at that. Admittin' defeat already?' I could feel his stupid grin again, his pace slowing- still ruthless, but it did enough for that feeling of building pressure to wain inside me.

I shook my head, shutting my eyes hard as I tried to focus on his member moving inside me, desperate not to lose that red string that'd lead me to climax.

'Words, sweetheart. Use em'. .'

'Dont fucking care.' I cried. 'J- just- Fuck. Me. Harder.' I ground out, my teeth clenching real hard from a mix of desperation and frustration for the pressure to start rebuilding.

'That'll do.' He groaned, squeezing my throat. All the while his other hand slid down to my cunt, starting condensed circling around my clit. And just like that, he'd made me into a whimpering mess for him to steady, falling apart beneath him just like he'd thought. Then he simply took up right where he left off, without missing a beat he thrusted so ferociously I was sure I'd be bruising on every single part of my body from the vibrations that rumbled through my muscles alone.

The darkness of my lips were specking with white, a wall of pressure building brick by brick in my abdomen. 'Close, so fucking close.' I whimpered.

'Good- Good job sweetheart. Doin' so good for me.' He burried his face in my hair, nuzzling his nose into its scent, inhaling it as he too approached climax. And there it was, that sudden softness. It was almost unsteadying my senses more than his touch, more than his thrusts, but only almost. 'You sound so sweet for me, honey. Let me hear ya'. . .' He moaned, exhaling warmth against the nape of my neck.

I obliged, of course I did. 'Feels so good, Coop- so close. . .' I panted, tears burning my eyes as they began rolling down my cheeks.

He slid his hand upward, keeping it between me jaw and throat, still choking me as he angled my face over my shoulder, enabling him to kiss me properly. And I've never been more thankful because I was about to cry myself dry as the wall broke. Pleasure flooding through my body in tidal waves, my knees bucking beneath me. 'Good girl.' He praised, voice muffled against my lips. Fingers stopping to instead cup my aching cunt. 'My good fuckin' girl, my little killer.' He moaned softly, my lips vibrating from the roughness in his voice as he caught me, delivering a final few ruts of his hips before he too came. Doing just as he promised, filling me up with his cum.

He loosed his grip around my throat and slit, letting me depend on the counter for support while he held me. 'Still hate me?'

'Yes.' I didn't, but it'd be a long time before I admitted that to him.

'Good.' And then there was silence, our lungs catching up with our breaths. 'Still wanna see those pretty hips ride me.' He murmured as he hugged me from behind, his hand sliding lower, pinching my hipbone.

'Ow! Asshole.' I yelped, and he kissed my shoulder to make up for it. But the thought was alluring nonetheless. I wriggled in his embrace, looking around at the destruction we'd caused, at the- dead bodies. And a pang of guilt hit me. 'Fine, but not here.' I agreed, actually wanting nothing more than to get out of there and sit in his lap, maybe ride his thighs too.

We redress, and share a kiss before leaving. 'Can't wait to taste that cunt of yours, killer.' He murmured suddenly. Leaving me staggered once again.

Ugh, I'm done for.

#fallout #fallout smut #cooper howard #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x female reader #cooper howard fanfic #the ghoul #the ghoul smut #fallout imagine #fallout fanfic #fallout x reader #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul fanfic #the ghoul imagine

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soobnny · 1 year

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kiss me — lee minho.

trope. established relationship. just fluff and a lot of making out. minho is needy

synopsis. your favorite genre of lee minho is when he’s needy and begging for your kisses after a long exhausting day

word count. 1.4k words

warnings. kind of suggestive but not rly ? just lots of kissing so neck kisses and making out but nothing more

note. i can’t defend myself im sorry minho’s lips r just so pretty and kissable that i had to write about it

You think your favorite genre of Lee Minho is when he’s needy.

He barely makes an appearance, but when he does, he always takes you by full force. It doesn’t help that with this neediness comes a softness that had always been in the boy, but rarely showed.

Now that you’re dating, though, this intertwine of softness and neediness shows a little more often than when you were tiptoeing the thin, undistinguishable line between friends and lovers. It’s different from the care he displays to his friends, where he’s teasing, but you know he’s listening. It’s not quite like the one he shows his family either.

With you comes a particular softness that’s reserved for you only.

Like right now.

It’s an odd hour in the night, just close to midnight when he comes home. It’s the nth time he’s complaining about practice, sputtering loud whines about how coming up with the choreography had taken a much longer time than he had anticipated, stretching practice out longer than usual, and how this could’ve been time to spend with you.

Disdain drips from his tongue as he peels his jacket off of him, shamelessly zipping it down in front of you before tossing it aside in the laundry bin. “Just gonna shower, okay?”

His statement comes accompanied with a kiss to your jaw, and then he’s off to the bathroom.

It doesn’t take long before he’s walking out with wet hair arranged messily over his forehead, and you admit without shame how good he looks shirtless, wearing only a pair of sweatpants with a towel in hand to continue drying his hair.

“Stay awake for me, pretty girl.”

It is with selfishness that Minho asks you to stay up for just a little longer as he searches for a plain shirt to wear to bed. How could he not act on it? He had been thinking of kissing you hours ago, and he couldn’t wait until morning to feel your lips against his.

“Mkay…” He smiles at your persistence to stay awake for him, that gentleness peeking just a little as he takes a mental note of the way you scrunch your nose to keep your yawn in. He’ll save this memory to think about if practice runs a little too long again tomorrow.

The whiff of his laundry detergent is strong enough to peel your eyes open as he places himself beside you on his bed, and automatically, his arm makes its way around your waist.

You wonder what his motive is – it seems like he’s expecting something from the way his fingers tap at your hip, and the way it seems like he’s holding himself back from doing something. But Lee Minho is an impatient man, and it only takes about two minutes before he’s tugging at your shirt, sporting a feigned pout.

And then it all clicks.

You know this is his way of asking you to sit on his lap. Lee Minho has always been much more comfortable with showing his love through acts of service, however, he is still a man in love and in need of physical touch from the one person that matters the most in his life from time to time.

And years of knowing him would teach you that he has always had trouble with voicing his more physical concerns as he has never been outwardly touchy. Those years have also taught you of his little hints.

Like right now, when he’s tugging at your shirt.

A relieved sigh escapes his lips when you finally comply. Especially when most of the time you’d let him fight for it, enjoying the way his face would glow in heftiness over your demands of him telling you what he wants – but you really don’t think he’s in the mood.

He must’ve been so exhausted after practice to allow his neediness to make an appearance, even to the point of a whine almost spilling at his lips when you don’t respond to his tugging right away.

But you’re on his lap now, and that’s what matters the most to him. His hands immediately hike up your shirt, fingers sliding through your bare skin to claim their home in the curves and slopes of your body, the ones he’s memorized all too well.

“My needy boy is so cute.” You giggle.

There’s teasing laced in your voice when he leans down to comfortably rest his head on the crook of your neck, taking your hand and dropping it on his head as a sign for you to run your hand through it.

“Shut up.” Minho grumbles in response, fingers tracing little patterns over the skin he can reach.

He hums in satisfaction when you tug at his hair, the way he likes it, and you feel the ghost of a smile form on his face. When he lifts his hips up, you know it’s another hint that he wants you to move closer than you already were.

“Want me to kiss you?”

“Don’t make me say it.” He groans as he peels his head from your neck, lips moving to press against yours the moment you mention it but you move away just as quickly, dodging away from his kiss.

“So, you don’t want me to kiss you?” Minho’s groans grow louder, grip tightening on your waist gently to tell you what he wants. “(Name), please.”

“Sorry, sorry.” You laugh quietly, leaning forward this time to place a wet peck on his lips.

The simple gesture makes him fumbly, fingers moving to stroke your back before coming back down to caress your waist. Lee Minho is always so vulnerable when you kiss him like that, hands feeling him up after long hours at practice.

He looks at you with so much fondness beneath his hooded eyes before he makes a move to drag his lips down your neck so you don’t take notice of his unusually red face. His damp hair tickles a little, but you don’t mind – not when the sight of the man sitting beneath you, so hazy and soft, was entirely different to the Lee Minho the world thinks they know.

“You did good today.” You tap the back of his neck to get his attention, and almost immediately he’s looking back at you, at your eyes, then at your lips, and back to your eyes.

His eyes are a little blown out, but you can’t quite tell, not when he’s closing them and leaning in to kiss you. And his lips slot against yours perfectly, like they always do, but there’s more fervor and desperation in the way he’s kissing you right now, tongue running over your lower lip just so he can get more of you.

“Not tired yet?” You mumble against his lips, and he simply shakes his head, only pulling away when he can no longer control his breathing. He has a stupid smile on his face.

He allows himself to look at you for a few seconds, and the sight of your gentle smile and your messy hair and the flush pinkess of your lips, and the way you look down at him – mirroring the same amount of love he feels for you.

A sharp breath leaves his nose at the intimacy of the moment, and he’s hit again with just how much he really loves you that he feels the need to say it out loud. He doesn’t say it enough. He thinks he should work on saying it more.

“Love you.” Minho says it so softly, but in the quiet of his bedroom, you hear it clearly.

“I love you too.”

“You love me too?” He still feels the need to verify, pressing a soft kiss on your shoulder before moving to work their way back to your lips.

“I do. A lot.”

“Hmmm.” The atmosphere is silent when he pulls away from your skin, head tilted back, open-mouthed and eyes hooded as he breathes you in. “Come give me another kiss.”

And you do.

Lee Minho would never admit out loud, but you’ve got him terrifyingly wrapped around your finger.

He is so, so stupidly in love with you, in a lovesick, comforting kind of way and from the way you’re smiling and giggling right now, he considers giving his needy and soft side more screen time in the future just for you.

And only ever for you.

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aviawrites · 20 days

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when we were teenagers (challengers)

pairings/relationships: tashi duncan x sister!reader, patrick zweig x fem!reader, art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: Tashi Duncan’s younger sister, Ava Duncan, never gets a chance to be seen past her sister’s shadow. When Ava gets injured and Tashi starts gaining fame, the two become more and more at odds with each other. Tashi juggles Art and Patrick while Ava struggles to keep up. When over a decade passes and a peace isn’t reached, either the Donaldsons or Zweigs, either Tashi or Ava, has to come out on top. (7.2k)

a/n: you know the movie was good when you have to rewatch so you have all the info for the fic🥴 with that being said, the dates and stuff may be a little off but i did my best with what wikipedia had to offer. regardless, im a patrick zweig stan 4L. anyway, as always, ur interaction is greatly appreciated, ily<3

warnings: description of injury, allusions to sex/almost a smut scene, swearing

in this story, yn is: Ava Duncan

March 16, 2006 //📍home, 9:35pm

The goofy grin on the brunette’s face and the blond’s childish giggle replays over and over in your head. Your mother’s muffled snores mix with Art’s laughs as a smile grows on your face, your eyes closed.

You’ve found yourself in this position too many times, imagining what could’ve been if the cute guys were eyeing you rather than your sister. But you’ve experienced it enough times to not even be hurt by it anymore. No guys approach you at volleyball events, especially not hot ones. So if anything, you find some comfort in lying upside down on the corduroy couch making up scenarios in your head.

The click of the front door forces your eyes open, sitting upright and perking up like a dog as your sister tip toes through the door.

“So…” You rest your chin on your fist, “Which one was it?”

“Shh,” Tashi smiles, pointing to your mom’s closed door. “Which one was what?”

“Come on,” You continue as she stands in front of you, “Which one did you…Y’know.”

“Oh my- Neither of them, Ava.”

“What!?”

“Shh!”

You lower your tone, “Seriously? You were alone with them both and didn’t make a move?”

“It wasn’t like that.” She laughs, “They’re like…I dunno, they’re weird.”

You scrunch your face up, “What, are they gay?”

She pauses, cocking her head.

“They’re actually gay?”

“No, no they’re not.” She giggles, “I just didn’t do anything with them. I mean we kissed but that’s it.”

“Did you kiss the blond?” You interrogate, “I really like the blond…”

“His name is Art and I kissed them both.” She smirks.

You roll your eyes, “Whatever.”

Tashi laughs at you, plopping next to you on the couch and resting her legs across yours.

“They did ask for my number again.”

“What’d you tell them?” You stroke her leg.

“I said whoever wins the match tomorrow gets it.”

“God, I wish.” You sigh, throwing your head back. “I’d kill to see Art just one more time…”

———

May 15th, 2006 //📍home, 6:00pm

You wince as your mom tightens the brace, covering your face in frustration.

“It’s okay, baby.” She kisses your head, “You tell me if you need anything, okay?”

You nod as she presses one more kiss onto your hair before walking out, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Almost every athlete you know has been injured before, half of the girls on your team are covered in braces and tape all season. A torn ACL seems more like a right of passage than a serious and life changing injury. But when you heard the pop and felt the ligament rip, it was almost immediate; The realization that you very well may never play again. You’re not sure if yours was worse than others or if you’re just weaker, but the trauma of the blistering pain has turned you away from getting back on the court for the last month.

You already can tell who’s on the other side of the door from the lack of a knock. You internally sigh, wanting to be left alone, as Tashi sits at the foot of your bed.

“Hey, I was thinking we could go to the courts today. I could practice with you.”

“Tashi…”

“I know you haven’t been wanting to go but since you just hit a month I was thinking, you know, maybe you’d want to start working again.”

You shake your head, “Tashi, I don’t think I’m ready.”

“When will you be?” She asks, her voice stern.

You stare at her, “I don’t know, Tashi. Why?”

“I’m just saying Ava, it’s not good to stop for this long. Some people never get back out there and you have to at least try.”

“I am trying.” You raise your voice, “My insides tore apart. Sorry if I’m not eager to put pressure on myself again.”

“There’s no pressure I’m just asking you to get up and at least walk on a court again.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because I’m fucking scared, Tashi!” You shout, tears falling from your eyes. “I’m fucking scared of it happening again! I am not ready!”

She stares at you, a look that you can only describe as disgust on her face.

“…You don’t even want to drive out there just to see-“

“Get out.” You cover your eyes, a headache creeping up on you.

“Ava, I’m not going to let you waste away in here-“

“Get out of my room or I’m calling mom.” You stare back at her, “Go.”

She stands, giving you one last look of disapproval before leaving, slighting slamming your door behind her.

———

September 18th, 2006 //📍Stanford Tennis Courts, 5:00pm

“Passing…Down the line…Cross…”

Tashi’s grunts echo throughout the court as you throw shots at her, a pile of green tennis balls forming behind you. It took a few weeks but she got you back on the court, just not the volleyball courts. You’ve watched Tashi’s practices long enough to know the game, so when you reluctantly offered to help her train, she jumped at the opportunity.

You zone out, robotically tossing the balls as Tashi dashes across the court. You silently hope for a specific someone show up. Patrick Zweig had your sister in his phone and occasionally in his bed, but Art Donaldson was a free man. The only Duncan in his phone was Ava, an achievement that you pride yourself on even weeks later.

Sure, the two of you aren’t a thing, not the way Tashi and Patrick are. But you’re happy to be anything with Art, so the talking stage that you seem to be stuck in doesn’t bother you at all. You can only pray that it’ll blossom into something. Something meaning you being Ava Donaldson in the near future.

As if you summoned him, a very familiar blond boy opens the wire door, locking eyes with you. Your heart skips a beat when he waves at you, your hand immediately dropping the ball and waving back.

Your sister turns around to see Art, a smile growing on her face as she walks over to him. She wraps her arms around him, pulling him in for a hug as you watch. They barely pull away before Tashi begins chatting, her face too close to his for your liking.

Across the court, they’re too far for you to hear their conversation. But judging from Art’s hand draped over her waist and her arm resting on his shoulder, you see enough to be angry. You can only look down, waiting for the conversation, along with your humiliation, to end.

After an abundance of giggles, Art turns and walks away, giving you another wave.

“I’ll see you.” He smiles.

You purse your lips, terribly embarrassed as you nod, “Yeah. Good seeing you, Art.”

The door shuts and with it, your smile drops. Tashi gets back into position like nothing happened, waiting with her racquet. Playing along, you throw her the ball. Only, you don’t call the drill. You throw with a little more force and much more unpredictability as the anger in you rises.

“Ava…” Tashi calls, frantically chasing the ball.

It’s only when the ball flies past her head, barely missing her, that she stops.

“Ava, what the fuck!?”

She walks toward you, meeting you at the net.

She shrugs, “What’s up, what’s going on?”

“Are you serious?”

She only looks at you, confused.

“Tashi, come on. You were literally all over him.”

“Wh- Art?” She deciphers, “Oh, Ava my bad I didn’t mean- I really didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, sure you didn’t.”

“Seriously, I didn’t. He’s my friend I was just saying hey.”

“Saying hey with your arms around each other? That’s bullshit, just say you still like him.” You look down, mumbling. “It’s fine, it’s just annoying that you go after every guy I like knowing they’ll choose you.”

“Hey…” Tashi softens her tone, stepping over the net and nearing you. “Ava.”

“What?” You look at the ground.

“I didn’t mean it like that…” She insists, “I’m just stressed with school and stuff, he’s the only one who gets it.”

“Right.” You roll your eyes, not in the mood for ‘I’m stressed,’ to be the excuse for going after your guy. “It’s not like I go to school too or anything.”

“No, I know you do. It’s just…Stanford’s different, you know?”

“Whatever.”

“Ava,” She lifts your chin to look at her, “I’m sorry, okay?”

The two of you ogle at each other as she waits for an answer. She always does this, almost forces you into accepting her apology which you do not.

“We good?” She asks.

“…Yeah, sure.” You shrug, pulling away from her, “It’s whatever.”

Tashi just looks at you once more, seemingly satisfied as she steps back over the net. She gets back into position as you pick up another ball, a look still on your face.

“Down the line.”

———

December 21st, 2006 //📍Stanford Dining Hall, 12:00pm

“How many?” The employee asks.

“Umm, can I have three?” You lean on the counter, “Or four, actually.”

She reaches under the counter before handing you four mayo packets.

“Thanks.”

You start the walk back toward the table, Patrick having picked the one in the far back. He clearly hasn’t returned from the bathroom as you see Art and Tashi still sitting alone. As you near them, you catch a glimpse of their conversation.

“Don’t you think you deserve it?” Art asks, his eyes so focused on your sister that he doesn’t see you walking up. “I mean, who wouldn’t be in love with you?”

Tashi doesn’t respond, only angrily stands and walks away, nearly knocking you over. She passes you, smoke practically coming out of her ears. You watch her go before sitting where she was, handing Art the packets.

“Thanks.” He smiles, “Patrick still in there?”

“I guess so.” You laugh, insecurity lacing your voice as you simultaneously try to decode the conversation they were having.

“I’m so not surprised.” He takes the bun off of his burger and tears open the white packet with his teeth.

You watch him, hesitant to speak. Though, your words spill out before you can stop them.

“Do you ever wish Patrick let you win the match?” You ask.

Art looks up at you, mid squeeze. He cracks an unsure smile.

“What kind of question is that?” He laughs.

“I don’t know,” You do the same, tragically self conscious. “Maybe you wonder what it’d be like to date my sister or something. I don’t know, it’s stupid.” You look down, fiddling with your fingers.

Art pauses, putting his burger down and placing his hands on yours.

“Hey,” He grabs your attention, “I’m here with you today.

You smile, “No, I know. It’s just…She’s like better than me in every way so I wouldn’t blame you.” You chuckle.

“What? I don’t think so, I think you’re great.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t get in to Stanford. Nor do I win all of the tennis tournament or-“

“Ava,” Art stops you, shaking your head. “You’re just as good as Tashi.”

Your eyes tread on each other as you try your hardest to believe him. But you do realize that this is the exact same way he looked at Tashi on the courts.

The two of you are snapped out of it as Patrick returns, taking his seat next to Art.

“Sorry, they had like no toilet paper.”

“Oh good, thanks for letting us all know you took a shit, bud.”

“Whatever. Ava doesn’t give a shit, right?”

“No,” You laugh, “You’re all good, Pat.”

———

📍Tashi’s dorm, 2:00pm

“So if he’s seeing other girls I won’t even fucking know now.” Tashi vents, stretching for her match.

You scroll on your phone, sitting at her desk. “It sounds like he was just trying to be nice, Tash. He was trying to help you out-“

“No, he’s not nice. Nothing about them is nice, Ava. They’re fucking weirdos, both of them. Art just hides behind this persona that he’s so caring and team Duncan when really he wants the same thing from me as Patrick.”

‘He wants the same thing from me.’

You sigh, tired of hearing the same things and watching her run back to them minutes later.

“Then stop complaining and fucking leave him already.”

Tashi stops in her lunge, “What?”

“You keep complaining about them.” You grunt, “If you really didn’t want the attention you’d just drop them both.”

“If I didn’t want the attention?”

“Yes.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“Exactly what I said.” You say, irritated.

“Ava…” She stands up, looking down at you. You continue scrolling until your phone is snatched from you. “Hey.”

“What the-“

“Do you have something to say to me?”

“Give me my phone back.” You stand up, reaching for it.

“No, say what you mean.”

“Really?” You grab for your phone once more but she pulls it away from you like a child, “Fuck - Okay, Tashi, all you talk about is how hard your life is. How hard training is for a tournament that you know you're going to win. How hard it is dating a famous and touring athlete. How hard it is being friends with the nicest guy who only wants to help you. How fucking hard it is to have two guys fighting over you. How hard it is to go to an ivy league. How hard it is to live the fucking dream. How about you actually do something about it instead of rubbing it in our faces that you're above us and can play with two guys at once because you're so fucking amazing?"

The two of you stand nose to nose, a stance Tashi used to always initiate in order to intimidate you.

“How long have you felt this way?” She asks, her breath shaking.

“Ever since you became the Tashi Duncan and I was left in the dust. Now give me my phone.”

“Are you fucking serious, Ava? You think I asked for this?”

“Asked for what? A great life where you succeed in fucking everything? No, Tashi, you didn't have to ask for it. We worked so fucking hard and only you survived it. I succumbed to my fate, I quit my dream, I went to a shitty college, had shitty friends, watched shitty games, and watched the boys I liked fight for my sister. But no; Please, continue bitching about your hard situation."

You snatch your phone from her hands, walking toward the door. "Good luck at your fucking match."

———

2:45pm

You barely look up as you exit the library, occupied with connecting your earbuds to your phone. It’s only when you see a familiar black head of hair sitting in the common area that you stop.

“Patrick?”

He looks back, taking his feet off of the Stanford branded coffee table.

“Oh, hey Ava.” He makes space for you to sit beside him on the small loveseat. “How’s it goin’?”

“Good, um…” You put your stuff on the floor and sit next to him, “Why aren’t you at the tournament?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” He smiles that same crooked smile from the night you met him.

You curl your legs up, leaving your arm on the back of the seat. “Did y’all fight too?”

Patrick leans back, looking over at you. “Yeah. Yeah, we did.” He laughs.

“What was yours about?” You pry, smiling.

“Uh,” He rubs his eye, “Just…not letting her control me. I’m my own boss kind of shit.”

“Seriously?”

“…Yeah, why?”

“That’s what our fight was about too!” You burst into giggles, “Well, not her controlling me but her controlling you. And Art, him too.”

“Shit, Art too?”

“Yeah, I mean, especially Art. You’re the only one who stands up to her bullshit.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, “I don’t know, you seem to put up a good fight.”

“Yeah, but I’m her sister. It’s takes a brave man to break free of Tashi Duncan.”

“Oh god, did I break free?”

“You definitely broke free.” The two of you laugh.

“No but I see what you’re saying, she definitely had me whipped.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like I remember one time,” He turns toward you, getting comfy, “The first time her and I, um…”

“Oh, Jesus.” You cover your face.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He laughs, “But the first time we did, I remember she said she’d leave me if I told anyone. And I was head over heels, so of course I didn’t want to tell, right?”

“Right.”

“But Art’s my guy, y’know? So instead of being straight up and jeopardizing Tashi’s love, we made this stupid ass signal.” He tells in between laughs, “The way that Art serves - Like, you know how he puts the ball at the neck of his racquet?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You listen intently.

“Well, if I served that way, that meant yes, we did sleep together, And if I served my way, it meant we didn’t.”

“…And?”

“Well, I put that motherfucker right in the middle.”

“Oh my-“

You and Patrick erupt into laughs, covering your mouths as the librarian eyes the two of you. Your stomach starts to ache, not being able to remember the last time you had this kind of belly laugh.

“Well, cheers to breaking free of her.” You put your fist up.

“Oh hell yeah, cheers to that.” He bumps it.

———

3:05pm

The crowd outside thins out as you and Patrick head down the back halls and toward the parking lot. In true honor of breaking free, the two of you decided to not say goodbye. Instead, you’d go home without saying a word to your sister.

You’re a few doors down from the exit when Patrick stops in his tracks, looking into the nurses office.

“Tashi…” He walks in.

You enter the doorway, peeking in behind him. Inside, you see Tashi sitting on the table, Art by her side.

“No, out.” Your sister points.

“I’m sorry-“

“Get out!”

“Tashi, listen to me-“

“No, get out!”

“Please-“

“Patrick, get the fuck out!” Art shouts, standing.

Patrick stays for a moment, taken aback as he looks from Tashi to Art. If he has the same vision as you, it’s clear that it’s them against him. It’s no longer Patrick and Tashi, but Art and Tashi.

He looks back at you before obeying, walking down the hallway.

Now alone, you come into full view, nearing your sister.

“Tash, what happened-“

“You too.”

You stop, tilting your head. “What?”

“I don’t want you here, leave.”

“Wh- Are you serious?”

“Ava, I think you should just go.” Art says lowly, wary to step in between you too.

You ignore him, “Tashi, I’m your sister.”

You get no answer, she only looks forward. You look at Art as he stands over her like some bodyguard.

Just as Patrick did, you back away, realizing what this is. You frantically look between the two as you wait for Tashi to change her mind, to see that regardless of what fight you had you’re still sisters. Though, it’s clear that doesn’t mean anything to her, it’s been clear for a while now.

Now, it’s only Art and Tashi.

———

10:03pm

“Coming in from Stanford; Student and highly lauded tennis player, Tashi Duncan, took a hard hit at her match against Pepperdine this afternoon. Sources say a hard fracture to the knee has Tashi in the care of medical professionals. It is unknown if she’ll ever be able to play again.”

The blinding fluorescent lights of the cheap fast food place burn your eyes as you and Patrick look up at the TV.

You bury your head in your hands, groaning.

“Fuck.”

“She probably thinks she’ll never be able to play again.”

“Please, please don’t say that, Patrick. I’ll feel so guilty.”

“Ava, there’s nothing we could’ve done.”

“We could’ve at least showed up.” You rub a hand over your head.

“Hey,” He forces you to look at him, “None of this is our fault, okay? Injured or not, she still treated us like shit. Art only gets to stay by her side because he’s whipped.”

“I just…” You sigh, “I just wish I had been there.”

The two of you stand up, leaving the restaurant. Outside, a huge Adidas billboard with your sister’s face on it dominates the sky.

The two of you get into Patrick’s car, him cranking it up and turning down the radio.

“Let’s talk about something else.”

“Okay.” He nods, looking at you.

“Like…” You think, “Your tour.”

“Oh, God.”

You laugh, “When are you set to go back?”

“Uh, next week I’m pretty sure. But if I’m being honest, I don’t even want to go. I’ve been getting my ass kicked out there.”

“Patrick, Tashi would lose it if she heard you say that.”

He leans in, resting his arms on the center console as he examines your face. “Let’s not talk about Tashi…”

“Okay,” You hold the intense eye contact that he began, “What do you want to talk about?”

His nose is almost touching yours as you unconsciously near him, eyes flickering from his eyes to his lips.

“Let’s talk about you.” He grins, rubbing your waist.

“What do you want to know?”

“Tell me what you like.” He says, lowering his lips to your neck and softly pressing.

“I, um,” You tilt, holding the back of his head as he gets sloppier, “I loved volleyball. My team was out of California but we travelled for tournaments. We ranked…fuck…we ranked second in the country-“

Patrick cuts you off, his lips ravaging yours as he runs his hands over you. You can’t stop yourself from leaning into him, crawling over to sit on his lap. Both of your hands get more and more heavy as he pulls your shirt over your head, tossing it in the backseat.

“Fuck,” You say in between kisses, “Fuck, wait.”

“What?” He looks up at you, “What, is something wrong?”

“Is this wrong to do?” You ask, out of breath. “Should we stop? What about Tashi and Art?”

“They yelled at us to leave when we tried to help.” He reminds you, “Why should we stop when they treated us like that?”

You look at him, convincing yourself that you’re considering it when all you want to feel is your mouth on his.

And you do, pushing the thoughts of Tashi and Art far from your mind.

———

February 15th, 2011 // 📍Zweig condo, 9:30am

5 years later

At one point in your life, it would take you multiple seconds to figure out how to say the dollar amount that you and your husband had in your bank account. Now, as the number almost falls short of five figures, you feel ashamed just looking at it.

You switch tabs on the laptop, the light from the ceiling to floor window behind it hurting your eyes. Scrolling through tournament options, the distances only get further and the prize money higher. Years ago, you and Patrick wouldn’t even consider the amount, as Patrick just wanted to play tennis; And that still holds true, only you’ve been stuck in your ways for so long that he’s forgotten how to play to win.

Nails scratch the hardwood behind you as your golden doodle, Bear, comes barreling down the hall. Right behind him is your husband, chasing the dog around the living room.

“I’m gonna getcha, I’m gonna getcha!” He says, the dog running desperately from him.

You chuckle, “Good morning.”

You hear Patrick give Bear a smooch before walking over to you, wrapping his arms around your neck.

“Good morning, baby.” He kisses your neck, looking at the screen. “Found anything good?”

“Not really,” You groan, frustrated. “I don’t know when these matches got so fucking far.”

“It’s okay,” He strokes your head, “I’m sure there’s one we can make it to.”

You continue scrolling, the qualifier maximum getting smaller and smaller.

“What about this one?” He points.

“Atlanta? Patrick, that’s on the other side of the country.”

“I know, I know. But we can make the trip, no? I hear some of our friends may be there.”

You turn your head, furrowing your brows at him. A sly smile plasters over his face, one that makes you realize all too quickly.

“They’re going to be there?”

He nods.

“God, why would you want to be anywhere near them?”

“We probably won’t even see them, baby. But if they’re there we’ll have a big crowd.”

You think on it, the thought of seeing Tashi making your stomach turn in knots.

“…And look at that winner’s reward money.” He says convincingly.

A sigh escapes you before clicking submit, Patrick’s entry automatically being sent.

“Mm,” He kisses your wedding ring finger, “Thank you, baby.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You jokingly roll your eyes, pecking him on the cheek.

——

February 24th, 2011 //📍Atlanta, 7:40pm

Nausea consumes you as Patrick’s smell fills your senses. The aroma of the city is one thing, the aroma of your husband another, but the scent of your sister’s old perfume radiates off of him like a cancer.

You watch as he sets his coat down, coming behind the couch to kiss you.

“Did you-“ You pull your face away, not able to let him touch you, “Did you see anyone we know?”

Patrick is taken aback, looking at you with a confused smile.

“No…Why?”

His eyes bore into yours as you search for any answer than the one you’re imagining. Though, as he hands you the chinese takeout bag and takes a seat next to you, you find yourself voiding the conclusion entirely; Your mind not willing to believe the man you love would be meeting her.

He wraps his arms around you, watching the TV. As the smell seems to corrupt every sense you have, a tear sneaks into your cheek, the possibility still piercing your gut. Even so, you wrap your arms back around him.

As of this moment, the comfort of hiding in his arms trumps the possibilities of the truth.

——

June 3rd, 2013 // 📍Zweig Condo, 3:00pm

2 Years Later

‘Hey, I know it’s been a while. But if you’re willing, I’d love to come out and see you and the baby. - A ♡’

The ‘Read’ under your message seems to taunt you the longer you stare. Your phone screen is interrupted by a call, ‘Mom,’ at the top of the screen. You answer.

A small gasp escapes you as you’re immediately met with the smallest human you’ve ever seen. You’d know she was Tashi’s in a sea of babies. You wave your husband over, eyes staying on the baby.

“Oh my goodness.” You whisper, “Hi, baby.”

Her eyes stay closed, her hands in small fists.

“Oh, Ava, she’s so beautiful.” Your mom lowly says down the phone.

“Is…” You wipe away a stray tear, “Is Tashi okay?”

The camera flips from the baby to your mother.

“You know you could always ask her yourself, honey.”

“No, I know. But- Just tell them we said congratulations. She’s precious.”

Your mom lets out a sigh as she looks from you to behind the camera.

“Mom, who is that?” You hear your sister’s voice in the background.

Your hands turn clammy, your heart beating faster and faster as she begins to turn the phone to Tashi.

“Um, Mom we gotta go, we’re breaking up. I love you-“

“Wait, Ava-“

“Love you, mom.” You spit out, hanging up and turning your phone face down.

You stare out for a minute, shocked at your body’s response to your sister’s voice. Sobs escape your mouth before you can stop them. You shove your face in your hands.

“Oh, baby.” Patrick holds you, rubbing your back.

“It’s been too long.” You cry, “She fucking hates me.”

“You don’t know that.” He reassures you, “She may come around. You did good.”

———

May 1st, 2019 // 📍New Rochelle, 10:00am

6 Years later

Making it to New York from home took up the rest of Patrick’s savings. The house that you downsized to is completely funded by you and your remote sales salary. Patrick continues to fight a losing battle with tennis, barely able to pay for food for himself every week. Straining your marriage was the last consequence of his money struggles. Though, it has the biggest impact on your day to day. Nonetheless, you remain by his side. In all honesty, you’re not completely sure how to continue anywhere else.

“I’m going to see Art today.” Patrick tells you, downing a handful of trail mix.

“Art?” You ask, holding Bear’s paws on your

thighs, “Why would you do that? It’s been years.”

“I think it’s been long enough, we’re already here.” He shrugs, “I think it might be good for me.”

You focus on Bear, still not seeing a clear reason as to why he’d want to speak to Art after a decade.

“Maybe you should go see Tashi.”

Your eyes snap to him, her name barely being spoken in your house for the last six years.

“…And do what?”

He shrugs, “Might be good for you…”

…

1:00pm

Your stomach seems to twist in a thousand ways as you continuously fix your hair and outfit on the way into the far too fancy hotel. As you pass the lobby, you almost turn around and throw up. But as your sister heads for the elevator, you know this is your one chance to speak to her.

Your shoes thump against the marble floor as you jog after her.

“T- Tashi!” You whisper shout, reaching her just in time.

She turns around. Taking one look at you, she looks to your left and right, utterly confused.

“What are you doing here?” She asks, tone laced with disgust.

It’s been so long. She looks so different, her voice has such a maturity to it. But that dominating energy that she brings everywhere hasn’t changed a bit.

“Well I…” You fumble, all of your practice going out the window. “ I heard you were here, I wanted to say hello.”

“Say hello?” She looks you up and down, turning her full attention to you as she steps forward. “Honestly, I don’t want your fucking hello, Ava. Really, I don’t.”

You shake your head, “Tashi-“

"I can't believe you have the balls to be here. After what you fucking did to me."

"What I-“ You compose yourself, remembering exactly how arguments with your sister always go. “Tashi, what the fuck did I do to you?"

"Are you serious?" She asks, "You're joking, yes?"

"No, I'm really not."

"You left me for 13 years by my fucking self." She raises her voice, "I had a wedding, I had a baby, and where were you? My sister was too stuck on a grudge to ever come back into my life, you're a waste of my fucking time." She begins to walk away.

“Hey.” You follow her, grabbing her arm and spinning her back around.

“Get off.”

"Not one of those events was I invited to, Tash. Not one. If you wanted me back, if you gave a shit, you would've acted like it. But you're not going to sit here and act like I was in the wrong and I should've reached out to you. Hell, I did fucking reach out to you.”

“In the wrong?” She snatches her arm from you. “Ava, are you clinically fucking stupid? You're hung up on a situation from 13 years ago-"

"No, but it's not from 13 years ago, Tashi.” You cut her off, getting in her face. “Because you're doing the same thing right now that you did when you were 18. You're sitting here blaming the world for your life decisions. You're blaming me for being angry that you were and are a narcissist who wants someone else to be the athlete that you never were. Every time I thought of coming back l'd imagine what my sister would say and I couldn't do it. But guess what Tashi, now I see through you. I fucking see it, Patrick sees it, and when Art finally opens his eyes you'll finally see yourself for what you are."

She stares at you, a chuckle escaping her. "Ava, this is pathetic. Genuinely. Because at the end of the day, it's not my fucking fault that you gave up. Now l'm in a position where I don't have to be here. I have a life, a pretty fucking good one, outside of this. Outside of you. This Final, it's practice. It's fucking child's play for us, whereas for the Zweigs...This is it for you. Your last fucking loss.”

“Yeah. Okay Tash.” You roll your eyes, "Keep throwing insults at me to distract from the fact that you're a shitty person."

"I'm a shitty pers- You fucking abandoned your family for 13 fucking years!"

"Because my sister is an insufferable egomaniac who can't accept the fact that her husband doesn't want to do this shit anymore and her tennis life is over!” You shout back, your voices echoing throughout the hotel. “It's fucking over Tashi, give it up. That's why I left you, because you're fucking dreadful! You're dreadful and everyone knows it."

Tashi slowly nods, the hotel staff looking at the two of you.

"...Ava, do you know what your husband does late at night?"

Your eyes widen, your heart skipping a beat as she addresses the unspoken.

"Fuck you." You spit.

"I'm really asking, because from what I experienced...You're a lucky woman."

Now you’re the one with disgust in your eyes, the urge to spit in her face stronger than ever before.

“…Say hi to mom for me, Tashi." You say, your hands balling into fists.

“Happy to.” She utters, walking toward the elevator. “Tell Patrick I’m wishing him good luck.”

…

3:00pm

You only tell your husband bits a pieces of your encounter, not daring to remind him of the man he was in Atlanta.

“I don’t even know why I tried.”

“Both of them are assholes.” He agrees, “At least now we’re sure of it.”

“I guess.” You bite your nails, stroking Bear’s ears. “Patrick you have to beat him in the Final. We can’t let them win.”

“I know, baby.” He nods, on your wavelength. “I know.”

——

May 4th, 2019 // Night Before the Final, 11:25pm

“Pat, it’s really coming down out there.” You look out of the hotel window, tarps flying into the street. “What if they cancel the match?”

“They’d never do that.” He watches the TV, “It should lighten up by morning.”

You hum, snuggling next to him as the bright screen flashes through an action sequence. Patrick’s phone vibrates, his phone brightness lighting the rest of the room.

“Oh, baby.” He shifts his body, making you sit up. “I gotta go.”

“Now? Why?” You try to look on his phone but he pulls it away, scrolling.

“I have to, um,” He rubs his head, looking stressed. “My racquet, I have to pick it up.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“They just messaged reminding me that we have to have this certain racquet to compete tomorrow.” He stands up, rushing toward the door.

“What- Patrick,” You follow him, “It’s like a fucking flash flood out there, can you not do this tomorrow?”

“Baby, they close at midnight, I gotta go,” He kisses you, “I love you.”

“Patrick, wait-“

“I love you, I have to go!” He shuts the door behind him.

…

12:30am

You have a strange urge to cry as you scroll through Art Donaldson’s instagram. Photos of him and his seemingly perfect family are plastered all over, an ‘@Tashidonaldson ♡’ at the top of his bio.

Patrick never wanted kids, said they’d cost too much and you couldn’t care for them. He was correct about the former, but care for children, you are willing and able to do. But when you married him, he did a lot of the decision making for you.

Now, as he’s blown all of your savings, lost his tennis touch, and been out of the damn hotel room for an hour doing god knows what , you wish you could shout at past you to get a grip.

Though, looking at these picture now, you wish you could do the same to past Art Donaldson too.

———

May 5th, 2019 // 📍New Rochelle Courts, 1:00pm

Final Day

The crowd’s heads robotically turned side to side as Art and Patrick dog it out in a vicious match. You sit in your assigned seat next to your sister, the endless stream of slander not ceasing, not even today.

“Is he retiring after this?” You ask, your head still going between the men.

Tashi shrugs, her expression hidden behind her sunglasses. “Maybe.”

"...I don't think Patrick will ever retire. I think tennis is all he has."

She hums, "If only he'd start winning his matches."

"He doesn't always play for the wins, Tashi."

"Yeah, he plays for the participation money."

"Maybe he does." You say, "At least he does it by choice."

She looks to you, her attention no longer on her husband’s tie breaker. "Art does it by choice."

“Like hell he does.” You scoff, “He wouldn't be retiring after becoming a Career Grand Slam if he wanted to be doing this.”

“Art is an adult, he does what he wants.” She looks back to the court.

“Art is your slave, he does what you want.”

Tashi continues trying to get to you. As Patrick sets for his next serve, he looks in your direction. Only, he isn’t looking at you, he’s looking at your sister. He returns his gaze to Art, placing his ball in the neck of his racquet.

Both you and Art freeze, staring at your husband. The men seem to be in their own world, but Patrick must’ve forgotten that you know too. The word seems to muffle around you as you stare at your husband’s evil grin at Art.

You stand on shaky legs, grasping your stomach as bile threatens to come up.

“Hey…” Tashi calls after you, “Ava, what the fuck are you doing?”

You run to the nearest exit, Patrick’s blatant disrespect and repulsiveness making you want to genuinely die where you stand.

It’s only as you stumble to your car that it truly hits you who the man you married really is, and how he really sees you.

Like everyone else, he thinks you’re a pawn in Tashi’s game. A piece that can be battered and bruised but will never go away, as it’s crucial to the game of Tashi. You want to vomit as you sit in your car, Patrick’s scent sending you into a violent sick.

———

May 14th, 2019 // 📍Zweig home, 12:00pm

9 Days Later

Three knocks at the door echo through your almost empty house. You pause your show, unlatching the chain and opening it.

Patrick stands in front of you, a hysterical attempt of a sad expression on his face.

“Everything’s here.” You walk him in, pointing to the boxes full of his stuff in the kitchen. “The only things that aren’t are your racquets, trophies, cups, stuff like that. Those are in the closet so they wouldn’t get mixed up.”

“Thanks.” He says, feeling like an alien in this house.

“Yeah.” You give him a thumbs up, returning to the couch next to Bear.

He spends an hour loudly moving his things from the kitchen to his car, the sound almost drowning out your show. Regardless, you stay put, wanting him to be done as fast as he can.

“Ava…” He calls over the reality TV. You ignore him, popping another veggie straw into your mouth.

Suddenly, his arm comes from behind you, grabbing the remote and muting it.

“Hey.” You turn around.

“I’m talking to you.”

“Okay, well I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Ava, I’m sorry-“

“Pat,” You chuckle, not being able to keep it in. “Don’t even.”

“Baby, listen to me, okay? I fucked up-“

“Patrick, Patrick!” You stand up, “Just stop, okay? Leave me be, finish getting your shit, and I’ll have the papers served to you by the end of the week.”

“Baby, no. Please.”

“Honey, there’s nothing you can say.” You shake your head, having prepared for his begging days ago. “Go beg to your mistress, yeah?”

He continues rambling, stumbling over his words. “Ava, it was such a bad mistake. I told myself it was strategy and- And because me and her have a complicated past I couldn’t see straight-“

“But nothing about us is complicated, right? We are married, we’re supposed to be a team. But you betrayed me, plain and simple.” You lay it out for him, “You’re a cheater and we’re done, now go.”

“It was a mistake-“

“Patrick…” You inhale, “I’m trying not to lose it, you need to get the fuck out.”

“Just hear me out-“

“Get out of the house, Patrick.”

“We can come back from this, Ava. We can.”

Your jaw hangs agape in genuine disbelief. He seems to notice he fucked up again as he stops speaking. You walk around the couch, getting in his face the same way Tashi used to get in yours.

“Patrick,” You begin, “I gave everything for you. I gave up my life, I gave up my family, I gave up Art, I left it all for you. I abandoned so much to be in your corner because I was in love with you, I really was. Whether you felt the same about me, I’ll never actually know-“

“I loved you, baby. I still love you-“

“But I thought you were the one who understood me, Patrick. But somehow every time I gave you a chance to correct yourself you threw it away to be with Tashi. Over and over. She’s constantly being picked over me, her feelings over mine, her body over mine, her opinion over mine…You’re just another one of her fans. You’re just like Art- Honestly, you’re fucking worse. At least he pretended to like me all those years ago. Now, as my husband, you just don’t give a shit. Just publicly showing that you slept with my sister.”

“…Why do you keep bringing up Art?” He looks down at you, “Do you- Do you feel something for him still?”

“Oh my fucking-“ You cover your face, composing yourself once again before continuing. “Pat, it’s been a long time. A long time since this all started. And if I could go back I’d change many things. But at the end of it all, I’m here because I worked for it and I endured it. You and Art can stay stuck under Tashi’s finger, that’s fine. But I know that the life is bigger than that. Bigger than this weird threesome love triangle shit that you circle back to every few years. I am a grown woman who is in control of her own life so if you don’t have anymore comments, you need to get out and sign the papers when they’re served to you, Patrick.”

“…Baby, please,” He cries, his lip quivering. “You love me, we love each other. Please

just think about it.”

You tilt your head, “Do you want me to be honest?”

Patrick nods, hiccuping on his tears.

“…All of this is really really beneath me.” You quietly tell him.

He lowers his head, his hands covering his eyes.

“When I was 18 I might have been broken over stuff like this but…” You shrug, “Things are very very different from when we were teenagers.”

#challengers #challengers fic #challengers imagine #challengers fanfic #art donaldson #patrick zweig #tashi duncan #art donaldson fic #patrick zweig fic #art donaldson challengers #patrick zweig challengers #challengers film #tashi duncan fic

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daisybianca · 5 months

Text

pairing: lando norris x femalereader

summary: ruining Lando's live stream is your favorite thing to do when in the mood.

warnings: female masturbation, mention of sexual actions, cursing words

(a/n): lando's recent stream look. I'm unwell.

YOUR HEADPHONES WERE filled with the sweet melody of Taylor Swift's "London Boy" and then you remembered that in the next room of the house you really did have a London Boy waiting for you.

Your boyfriend had one of his usual streams, and it was always your choice to step away from the place where he was doing them and not take part in it. You didn't like the idea of giving fans more content about your relationship than there already was.

By changing the song of the playlist, you settled on something more freaky, like the wreeknd.

Hearing Lando's voice and loud laugh echoing from the next room, you opened the app on your phone and joined his live stream.

Your username was a random name that only Lando recognized.

God, he was so hot.

Messy curly hair, an unbuttoned white t-shirt, and grey plaid pants.

He had heard your wish to let his beard grow long, and you loved every moment of it. Watching the screen intently, listening to his strong accent through the device and from the adjacent wall, you felt your heart flutter loudly. Your jaw nearly hit the floor when you saw from the screen Lando laughing at something and pulling back, spreading his legs widly while bending his head back.

Swallowing, you decided to write a message in the comments that only he would recognize "Turn off the Stream and come over here. Im in the mood."

A few seconds later, he read it. He didn't say anything. He just smiled.

Again, you chose to write the same comment in case he didn't pay much attention to it the first time.

"I'm not shutting down the live. If anyone wants to tell me something, they can come here and tell me themselves."

You smiled and turned off your phone.

Is that how he wanted it? With games?

He asked and shall receive.

You got out of bed, opening your closet and wearing the most revealing and slutty piece of clothing you owned. You also put on a pair of high heels and began to walk slowly towards the next room.

The door was closed so you touched the handle and began to open it gently.

Two beautiful eyes met yours. Then they scanned you from head to toes.

Whatever Lando was trying to tell his viewers was now forever gone.

His jaw closed and he licked his lips. His eyes were on the verge of popping out of their sockets.

Bringing a finger to your lips, you murmued "Shhh."

You felt his eyes follow you as you closed the door and sat comfortably on the couch across from him.

You weren't, of course, visible on the camera. And your boyfriend did his best not to show his viewers the uncomfortable situation he was in. He kept talking, but you were sure he didn't understand what he was saying either.

You stopped looking at him and tried to forget the fact that you had to be discreet because thousands of people were somehow in the room with you.

Spreading your legs, you pushed your warm hand where you wished Lando's was right now.

You immediately shuddered at the very first contact. Twisting your body a little, you gave your boyfriend a better angle of your wet--dripping actually--spot.

His eyes never abandoned you. At one point, you heard him hissing plaid from his breath. "Fuck." His voice made you shudder. "Thats it." He said and closed the live show without saying anything else to his audience.

You stopped the movements and touches on your body and looked at him throwing the headphones on the chair and walking briskly over to you.

That's my boy.

"You want to fucking make me come in front of thousands of people? Huh?" He walked towards you and started unbuttoning his pants. You just smirked and bit your bottom lip. "Acting like a little brat, getting treated like one, right?" He grabbed your neck and forced you to him. After taking one huge taste of your lips, he let you down and removed his white t-shirt. "Open your legs. You're lucky I didn't choose to fuck you live, baby."

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ohdeerfully · 3 months

Note

Requests? I got you 😌

Reader who made a deal with Alastor, be his informant, and he'll provide aid when needed. And reader was damn good at holding up their end of the deal, while Alastor hasn't really needed to uphold his since aid hasn't been asked for.

So what might happen when his dear little informant hasn't came back from gathering info on the Vee's?

EATING IT UP idk i love this kind of stuff thank you so much. im making this a two-parter! it was getting kinda long and i wanted to get something posted (:

Your Half of the Deal (i)

Alastor x Reader part i part ii part iiiTW: kidnapping, cursing, alastor is manipulative (per usual), alastor is in denial if you want to be tagged in the next part, let me know! join my discord! ═══ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ═══

Deals with Alastor were, for a lack of better words, a big deal. Not something to mess around with. His twisted nature allowed him to create so many loopholes for himself, forcing one to do more than what they bargained him for. It was unfair, but that’s what happens when you make a deal with the Radio Demon.

You weren’t as lucky as the other demons at the hotel, not receiving the typical advice Vaggie debriefed any newcomer. Alastor got to you first. He got you soon after you fell into Hell, before you even knew exactly what was going on or the whole ‘soul’ thing.

“My,” A light voice cooed from the shadows, causing you to jerk your head up. Your ass still stung from the tumble you took after falling down into god knows where. You were curled up in a dark, moldy corner, a brief respite from all the freaks that you kept running into. Your fingers–no, claws?--still aches after defending yourself from a pair of spiked thugs.

“What a poor sight. How dreadful!” He continued. You could barely make out the form of the speaker. You just knew he was tall. With blazing red eyes. His voice had a radio-like filter over it, with a general low frequency humming around himself during the silence.

He had seen you, a new fallen demon, fight yourself away from those two earlier, a wild look in your eye. How it pleased him, seeing that look somebody gets when they are desperate for their life. But you, in particular, piqued his interest. To be able to acclimate to a new body, in a new place, and fight for your life at the drop of your hat.

You seemed capable, and he liked that. He knew you were naive, fresh meat always was. And he liked that.

You had yet to speak, only looking up at him from your fetal position. But he could tell you were tense and ready to spring, if need be. He played a grin on his face and leaned down closer to you.

“Oh, how rude of me! I’m Alastor,” He held his hand out to you from his bent over position. You shook his hand cautiously. “I saw that scuffle earlier, and dear if I may say, you fight like a wild tigress.”

You quirked your brow at this comment. “Thanks,” You replied plainly. “(Y/N).” You didn’t want to talk right now. But, you were at least glad to see a face that didn’t immediately go through your throat.

Alastor, of course, didn’t go after those of the ‘fairer means,’ as he would put it. At least, not in a violent way. He was all for the typical manipulation.

“Even still, a fair lady such as yourself needs someone to protect her! And,” He stood up straight again, a dangerous glint in your eye. “For a price, I could be at your beck and call.”

“A price..?” You responded weakly. You had to admit, seeing this tall, confident man in front of you did seem to put you at ease. He seemed kind. And it wouldn’t hurt to have some help, if there were more creatures wanting to attack you.

“Your soul!” He said, all too cheerfully. Your mouth dried up at this. With everything that has happened to you so far, you had a hunch that the term ‘soul’ actually carried meaning in this place. But, how much..? Was it worth the protection he promised?

“More like a mutual contract, really! Mutual benefactors!” Alastor lied, seeing that hesitance in your expression. “I get your soul, you do what I ask, and I protect you! Simple enough.”

The expression he held, with that tall grin of his, didn’t do much to calm your nerves. As chipper as he seemed, there was something to it. Something more, but you couldn’t quite tell.

“Deal?”

His glowing eyes seemed to darken as he squinted them in anticipation, his smile somehow growing wider. The static in the air seemed to crackle with more energy, almost violently, as you considered his hand that he had held out. There was an ominous aura that made your skin crawl.

Ah, what the hell. Flashes of those thugs from earlier was enough to put you on your feet. You could only imagine the other shit that lived in this place, and had a feeling they were the bottom of the barrel. You had only just managed to get away from them.

You made eye contact for a couple of seconds, the prickling sensation on your skin becoming harsher and more aggravating the closer you stepped to him. You grabbed his hand.

You were thinking about your unlucky situation–which you often did in your free time–as you gave yourself a onceover in the mirror, black eyes examining your tight outfit. A little spy getup–a little stereotypical, something you would definitely see in the movies. But, hey, it never failed you.

Thinking back, you could tell now that his words and smile were filled with deceit and manipulation. You often got pissed at yourself for how naive you were. You hadn’t even called on him once since then, and you’ve been stuck as his little pet for nearly four months now. He runs you around like a doll in a big playhouse, sending you this way and that to get intellect from his various enemies.

“I’m much too popular to be roaming in those areas!” He had claimed when you questioned why he, the Radio Demon, couldn’t just do it himself. “Demons flee at the sight of me. The Vee’s would see me from a mile away.” You had a suspicion that he just didn’t want to be seen in public making such a petty fuss over his television rival.

There was no point in dwelling on it, but you couldn’t help the occasional feeling of regret that twinged your chest when you thought too long. You were stuck as his, whether you liked it or not.

Slicking back your hair, you finalized your sleek outfit. Another day of being thrown into precarious situations by that red asshole. It was becoming a weekly thing, with Alastor requesting more and more information, especially from those Vee’s he hated so much. In fact, now that you thought about it, they were the only demons you snuck by. How obsessed they were with each other.

It was no easy task, getting through the security of that place. In fact, it was nearly impossible, seemingly getting harder every time. You had a cautious feeling that they knew what you were up to, and kept falling short of catching or stopping you. There were cameras pointed in every direction, every angle, in the highest quality imaginable. Every trip left your heart racing with adrenaline.

“On your way now, are you?” Alastor asked coyly. He waited for you at the entrance to the hotel, a glint in his eyes. Oh, how he loved playing with you like this. Watching you bend and break for him. He loved it. And you hated him for it.

“Yeah. Maybe I’ll get killed this time,” You said snidely, referencing the increasing danger of each trip. “Wouldn’t that be a treat for me.” You said this in a whisper, but Alastor still heard.

He bent at the waist to be eye level with you, that sinister grin of his lowering slightly. It seemed he had wanted to say something, his teeth parting for a moment before closing again. His grin perked back up and he straightened himself into a stand. He simply reached out and patted your head.

“Now, don’t go out with that kind of mindset! Why, you know our deal!” His lips curled in reference to the rather one-sided promise you made each other. To be honest, considering you never had to call for Alastor’s aid, you weren’t even comforted by the notion. Who’s to say he even shows up? How will he even know if you need help?

Alastor stepped towards you, his hands flapping as he shooed you out of the door. “The night is only so long! Go along!”

So, now you’re here. Tucked behind a corner near the Vee’s residence. There were cameras everywhere, obviously, and you swore you saw more than last time. What point does Alastor even have, making you come here so often? What more could he want? You knew him and Vox were rivals, but it wasn’t like Alastor didn’t know how to take care of the TV-head.

You had a sick feeling that Alastor just enjoyed making you do bullshit for him like this, and didn’t care much for the actual information. The thought drew a sneer on your face. If you weren’t literally soul bound to this guy, you would probably just let yourself get caught and likely killed on the spot. But, of course, your deal made that dream impossible.

With a couple hops on your toes, you began your brisk walk towards the back of the manor. You were hyper aware of all the cameras, and hoped that your dark outfit helped blend with the shadows.

However, the second you lifted a window and stepped foot into the building, lights flashed and an alarm rang. Fuck.

The television demon himself got to you surprisingly fast. As if he had been waiting. Which, honestly, wouldn’t have surprised you. You briefly wondered why it took them so long to have an alarm system in the first place, and began frantically looking for a way out. The window behind you had shut and locked. The hallway was incredibly narrow and Vox stood in the way.

Fuck it, you made a mad dash for the Overlord, hoping to catch him off guard. You raised a clawed hand and swiped at his television head. A pointless attack, you realize, as the screen nearly flickered for a moment; his wide, pixelated grin staring into you. Before you could move again, his arm tightly gripped at your throat. You felt an electrifying sensation, stinging through every nerve, and blacked out.

“Heyy, Al?” Charlie’s voice rang through the doorway of Alastor’s radio tower. “Have you seen (Y/N)..? She was supposed to help with some decorations.” She had opened the door without warning.

He paced back and forth in thought, gripping the top of his cane with one hand and tapping the end of it in his other. He didn’t respond to Charlie, but the question did ring in his head over and over. You hadn’t come back from the night before. You always came back before the day broke.

He didn’t know the feeling that stirred in his chest as he watched the minutes pass by. The hours pass by. All without a sight of you. He never thought to keep watch as you worked, refraining from sending his shadow to spy on the spy, as he always saw you as capable enough.

Besides, he thought to himself. What a waste of my time that would be. Fretting over a single demon.

“Alastor,” Charlie said again. He craned his neck to her, stopping his train of thought. His grin had a strain to it and his nose wrinkled in aggravation. Why was she in his space? He hated intrusions.

“What?” He said bluntly.

“(Y/N)?” She spoke your name again, hoping to prompt some conversation out of the Radio demon with the implied question.

Alastor composed himself, acting unphased by the… worry? That he felt. “Why would I know where she is? I take care of this hotel, but not so much the residents.” It was a true enough statement, as he preferred just watching the demons Charlie try desperately to rehabilitate and fail miserably every day.

“Now, if you don’t mind,” He interrupted Charlie before she could say anything, her mouth hanging open and words dying on her tongue. He briskly turned on his feet and walked towards her, standing at the doorway. “I would prefer you knock next time.” He shut the door on her.

He couldn’t handle the heavy feeling that threatened his lungs as he thought about what was happening at the Vee’s residence.

Did he really care to go out, risk a scene, risk the intel, just to get you? To make sure you were okay?

Yeah. He had to. He hated that feeling in his chest, especially as it just grew heavier and more overwhelming. He just chalked it up to the deal he had made with you putting a pressure on his own soul to hurry up and deal with it. But he couldn’t help the tightness that consumed him when he thought about what you were doing in that place. Or what they were doing to you. He brushed the emotion aside, trying his best to ignore it.

He argued with himself that yeah, he was only going because of that deal he had made. No, no way did he have a soft spot for you. No way in Hell. He was just doing this to hold up his deal. Yeah.

With a heavy sigh and a twitch at the corners of his lips, he brushed his talon-like fingers through the fringe of his hair, pushing it back before letting it fall into place again. He tried to maintain a leisurely composure, but a wild glint in his eye was proof enough that he was stressed out.

Best to get this over with. He had a deal to uphold. He opted for the faster route, melting into his shadow.

part ii part iii

#alastor #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #tw: kidnapping #kidnapping #alastor doesnt realize he Feels stuff

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crazy4leclerc · 20 days

Text

imgonnagetyouback — c.l.

The Tortured Drivers Department Series

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary: you and charles have been broken up for a couple months now, but things take a turn when he sees you at a race and then with his teammate at the after party.

warnings: angst, jealous!charles, possessiveness?, swearing, alcohol, kissing, making out, charles being needy, and lil bit of sexual scenes

a/n: based off taylor’s new song ofc ;)

—

it’s been months since i’ve been to a race due to mine and charles’ break up but i was dragged here since my best friend, shelbi, is now currently dating lando norris.

“y/n, can you keep up? i’m dying to get to the mclaren garage to see lando!” shelbi whined to me as i was dragging behind her, arms covering myself in hopes that no one will see me or recognize me.

“i’m sorry shelbs, you know how out of place i feel here since the breakup.” she stops and walks back to me and wraps her arm around my shoulder. “i understand, im sorry for dragging you here, i just wanted you to meet lando since you never have.” she says with a smile on her face.

i’m happy for her. i really am but i just wasn’t happy being at a race since every little thing reminded me of charles.

as we make our way past all the paddocks i was not pleased to see that mclarens was right next to ferrari.

“oh fuck me.” i grown out and shelbi only giggles, “you’ll be fine!” i roll my eyes at her as she tugs me into the garage. i watch as shelbi runs over to lando with his arms wide open for her. a smile graces my face at their interaction.

“y/n, this is lando. lando this is my best friend, y/n.” she introduces us, “i feel like i’ve seen you before.” he tells me and i want to die on the spot.

“uhm, yeah.. i used to be with charles.” i noticed a frown come across his face, “im sorry about that. if it makes you feel any better, i don’t think he’s doing too well.” he tells me as shelbi has her arm around his waist.

“well that serves him right. i hope he suffers!” she says and me and lando both laugh at her statement. “i can show you around the circuit if you ladies want me to?” he asks and we both oblige.

—

as we’re walking around the circuit, i can’t help but awe at how cute lando and my best friend are. i sneak some pictures of them as we continue to walk, but only being stopped by fans every now and then.

“y/n? is that you?” i hear a thick accent say behind me. it takes me a bit to register who’s voice it is but as i turn around, the biggest smile spreads across my face.

“carlos!” i say as i jog to him and wrap my arms around him.

“what are you doing here?” he asks as he pulls away and sets his hands on shoulders. “i’m here with my best friend, she’s dating lando.” i say as i point back to where they’re now standing, greeting a fan.

he nods and lets go of me, “i really never thought i’d see you again, at least so soon.” i laugh awkwardly since i already know charles will be a hot topic in our conversation, “yeah, me either. i was forced into coming but i will do anything for my best friend, even if i have to see him again.” he smiles at me and says, “well that is why you’re such an amazing person.”

i blush at his words and thank him. “don’t feel too bad, charles has been having it a bit rough since they breakup.” carlos tells me truthfully. i sigh, “i mean it’s only been a couple of months, i think he would move on by now.” carlos shakes his head no, “you’re crazy if you think anyone would want to move on from you.”

i don’t wanna be crazy but is he flirting?

“is this spaniard harassing you, y/n?” lando says as him and shelbi make their way over to us. i giggle and tell him no.

“she’s an old friend! don’t be like that you asshole.” carlos says as he smacks landos chest. me and shelbi giggle at them. “yes, carlos is right.”

we all stand around chatting to one another since the race didn’t start for a little bit longer, carlos says he has an interview so we bid farewells, “see you around?” he asks and i shake my head, “yes, i’ll see you.” he smiles and surprisingly kisses my cheek goodbye.

“he wants you.” lando says to me as carlos was walking away. i smack my forehead and shake my head, “no, he shouldn’t.” shelbi smirks at me, “he does, i think the flirting was obvious. he was shooting his shot since he knows your now single.”

i groan, “what is up with these god damn ferrari drivers.”

—

as we make our way back down to the garage, i could almost feel his gaze staring holes into me. i refused to look anywhere near the ferrari garage but of course, carlos had seen me once again.

“y/n! come look at the new livery for the race!” i’m literally going to off myself. shelbi gives me a comforting squeeze on my arm, “you should go. make charles jealous, espically of his own teammate.”

i make my way over to carlos with a smile on my face. “new livery?” i ask and he nods, grabbing my arm to pull me into the garage.

charles doesn’t go unnoticed. i can sense him, almost feel him everyone around me. i’ve yet to take a full look at him, only glancing in my peripheral as carlos shows me his car and what is all new about it.

“i like the designs that are on it.” i tell carlos and he hums as he begins to put on his racing suit.

i feel so awkward since i’ve never been too close with carlos before but i help but hear shelbi’s words ringing in my head.

“can you help me?” carlos asks and i make my way over to him. “zip me?” i can’t help but laugh at the situation, “i think it’s supposed to be the other way around but sure.” i giggle as i began to zip up his suit.

then all of a sudden i was aware of how close i was to carlos. i could feel his breath fanning on my face and i felt like i could barely breathe. not because of our close proximity, but because of charles staring daggers into me. and that’s when i snapped my eyes to meet his.

dark green. staring right back at me. he had this dark look in his eyes that i couldn’t make out. but if this is what jealousy looked like, he sure as hell pulled it off god damn well.

honey, i can tell when somebody still wants me, come clean

i forced myself to look away, gulping, i step back from carlos and give him a smile. “thanks, sweetheart.” he gives me a smirk as he reaches for his balaclava and helmet. “good luck out there, carlos.” i tell him as he puts on the balaclava. “i think i got my good luck charm here with me.”

i swear he’s got to be doing it on purpose.

“i’m not!” he laughs and grabs my arm, “well i guess we have to wait and see.” he says as he leans down once again to kiss my cheek.

in front of charles.

fuck me.

—

well to say i was a good luck charm is an understatement since carlos did win the race.

i’m currently in the back of landos mclaren as he drives me and shelbi to where the after party will be.

“carlos is about to pounce on you. i can feel it.” shelbi says and i groan, “please. he’s attractive but i think in my books no one can beat my ex.” shelbi rolls her eyes at me, “girl you have got to move on and carlos is right there!”

“yeah but i’m not like that! im not over charles!” i exclaim and that’s when lando butts in, “look i get where you’re coming from, but i think for tonight, just flirt back, make charles crawl in his skin seeing you all up and close with carlos.”

i sigh, “okay. fine. i’m gonna get him back.”

—

the second i stepped in the door of where the party was it was like my presence summoned carlos.

“there’s my good luck charm!” he exclaims and i blush at his words. he makes his way over to me, hand outstretched and i take it. his warm hand grasps mine as he leads me over to the bar.

“a drink for my good luck charm. because of you, i won the race.” he whispers in my ear and slides a drink over to me.

“thank you.” i tell him and he wraps his arm around my waist. “don’t thank me, i’m going to continue to thank you.” he smiles at me and guides me to sit in the bar stool.

but then again, charles’ presence doesn’t come unknown. i can hear him down at the end laughing at some joke max made.

standing at the bar like something’s funny

after my drink, carlos asks me to dance and i don’t deny. i’m getting revenge.

carlos grabs my waist as i wrap my arms around his shoulders. “did you have fun at the race?” he asks and i nod. “just making sure. i know it was hard going back to one.” well shit. am i that easy to read?

“it wasn’t too bad. you made it worth while.” i smile at him as he squeezes my waist.

carlos spins us around and that’s when i make eye contact with charles again and i don’t hold back the smirk on my face.

whether i’m gonna be your wife or..

he’s sitting at the bar now, hand gripping a glass so hard his veins look like they’re about to pop out.

gonna smash up your bike i haven’t decided yet

“i can’t forget to tell you how beautiful you look tonight.” carlos whispers in my ear, “thank you.” he smiles down at me. “don’t worry about him, yeah?” i nod and wrap my arms tighter around him, soaking in this moment.

but i’m gonna get you back

after dancing, i excuse myself from carlos to go to the restroom. he kisses my cheek as i part ways from him.

once i’m in the bathroom i decided to freshen myself up and just take a breather because what the hell am i doing?

i’m not over charles. i’m not one to make anyone jealous, but here i am.

“making me jealous tonight, are we?” i nearly jump at the sound of his voice.

“what the fuck are you doing in here?” i grip the sink as i see charles standing a few feet away from me.

a smirk spreads across his face, “i think you’re good at playing whatever game you’re trying to play, mon cheri.”

“don’t even think about using that on me. you have some nerve coming in here.” i scoff. “i think you asked for it.” he says as he makes his way over to me.

“fuck you. you’re an asshole.” i roll my eyes at him.

whether i’m gonna curse you out or..

i collect myself, ignoring his presence as i turn away and begin to walk away only for him to grab my wrist and pin me against the door.

“don’t leave. i know you don’t want to.” he almost pleads. and he’s right, i don’t want to.

“i hate the way he’s looking at you. i hate how he gets to touch you. i hate that he’s calling you his good luck charm. i hate that he’s kissing your cheek. i hate that he gets to look at you the way that only i do. i just hate that you’re even near him or in the sight of him.” charles confesses.

i’m godsmacked honestly.

“i- charles there isn’t anything there.” i confess. but he isn’t having it.

“don’t tell me that. i know there is.” he says as he reaches down to grip my waist and i feel my body heat up in flames.

“there’s not! he’s the one who’s been flirting with me all day. i swear. i’ve just been going along with it.” i huff out but it’s not what he wanted to hear.

“go along with it? make me jealous? you knew i’d come crawling back.” i nod. “yeah i was hoping you would.” i say as his grip on my waist tightens even more.

“charles, look i am sorry. but why am i apologizing when you’re the reason we broke up? you were the one that said you didn’t know if you could do it anymore but now here we are.” i say, frustrated.

“i’m so sorry, baby. i never meant it. it was all me, never you. we were perfect together. i was just so caught up in my head, i was struggling but i do so much worse without you. you’re my constant and i don’t see a life without you.” he confessed as he grabs my face in his big hands.

“i still love you charles.” i say and it was like everything fell into place because as soon as those words left my lips, his came crashing down onto mine.

it was so euphoric feeling his lips against mine again. it felt so right. it felt like home.

“god, i’ve missed you so much.” he whines as he breaks the kiss and begins working on my neck. “i’ve missed you more, charlie.” i say as i reach around his neck to grip his hair.

his lips make their way back up to meet mine. i know exactly where this is leading.

“i can’t do this here.” he says and i nod in agreement, “take me back to my place, please.”

take you back to my house

“of course, love.” he kisses my cheek and forehead. “now only i get to do that.” i giggle at him as we walk out the bathroom together.

i haven’t decided yet

when we get in charles’ ferrari it was just like before. everything felt right and at home. the entire ride back to my house he couldn’t keep his hands off me. when we got into my house, he rushed us inside and slammed the door and pushed me up against it.

“fuck, mon amour.” he groans as i wrap my legs around his waist, grinding over the growing bulge in his pants.

but i’m gonna get you back

to say everyone was baffled about me and charles being back together… they were. but i find it kind of funny since i manifested it on accident.

i did get him back.

#nat writes #charles leclerc #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz #charles leclerc 16 #charles leclerc smut #Spotify

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rninies · 28 days

Text

✮ matching hoodies

౨ৎ veritas ratio x reader. fluff, gn!reader, ratio is so in love w you, modern!au — wc: 733 | tags: @rosequarzo @fairykazu

notes. hai im back w another ratio fic

"remind me why we are here again?" veritas asks, watching you look through the hoodie section of the store.

"i’m here to buy a hoodie, veritas. you’ve asked that question ten times now," you sighed. turning your head to face him, you see a pronounced frown on his face. "why are you frowning? do you not like accompanying me shopping?"

"no it’s just- our closet is already full of your hoodies. more than half of the closet is filled with your stuff. why do you need more?" veritas answers.

you give him a sheepish smile in return. "well, i happen to be someone who loves hoodies so deal with it. besides, i know you love borrowing my hoodie from time to time."

veritas's face actually turns a light shade of red hearing you expose his actions. "you- you didn’t have to say that out loud, idiot."

you gasped dramatically. "veritas ratio, language!" and you dodged an incoming balled-up scrap of paper. "what was that for?!"

“for being annoying.”

"oh you wound me," you placed a hand over your chest for dramatic effect and couldn’t help the laugh from escaping your lips as you see veritas's disgusted look. "okay, how about you sit over there while i find the perfect hoodie for me to wear, yeah?" you pointed at the small seating area and veritas agrees silently, taking the other shopping bags with him.

as soon as veritas sits down and busies himself with his phone, you scavenged through the pile of hoodies, racks of sweaters, basically anything that fits the category ‘long-sleeved and keeps us warm’. hoodie hunting wasn’t your favorite pastime as it not only takes up so much of your time but you also have to let go of the other cute hoodies you find along the way.

when you reached the last pile of hoodies, you find a white hoodie with a small brown dinosaur holding out a finger heart while winking and facing the right. looking below that was an identical one, it being a black hoodie with a green dinosaur doing the same pose except it’s facing the left. putting the two hoodies next to each other, it makes it seem like the dinosaurs are shooting hearts at each other.

your eyes light up as soon as you find these two pairs of hoodies, grabbing both and ran to the cashier (veritas fortunately did not see you). as soon as you paid, you basically skipped your way back to veritas, which caught his attention. "why- when did you pay for the hoodie? i could’ve paid for you."

"just now!" you replied and took out the black hoodie from the bag, showing it to him. "look, isn’t it cute? especially the dinosaur!"

veritas nods, not really paying attention to the hoodie. "it’s cute, yeah- what are you do-" he gets cut off when you basically force him to wear the hoodie.

taking out the white hoodie, you wore it, and smiled at him. "look, now we match!"

veritas looks at the mirror in front of him and true to your words, you both were indeed matching. "what the hell?"

"don’t you dare take it off," you warned, seeing veritas about to reach for the hem of the hoodie. "i paid for these hoodies and you’re keeping it. it’s cute, okay? look at the dinosaurs! just like you and me."

"very funny, y/n," veritas grumbles, holding you by the waist as he leads you out of the store. "this is embarrassing!" though the way his hands tightened around your waist says a different thing.

"be glad i didn’t end up picking one where it was super obvious that we got matching hoodies." you say, poking his cheeks. "besides, we don’t have any matching items! the closest thing we have to something classified as matching is that keychain we bought on our first date."

"and do you not like the keychains?" veritas asks. "it’s two cats and when you connect them with each other it looks like they’re cuddling with each other.”

"okay, i did not ask for your inner cat lover to come out when we’re discussing the keychains," you pointed out. "yes i love the keychains, but i want something more, hence the hoodies."

veritas groans, looking at his hoodie and yours. "be glad that i love you."

"that’s such a cliche thing to say." you giggled.

"shut up."

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tonyspank · 9 months

Text

CAUGHT

Warnings: G!P Reader, smut, almost getting caught

Summary: You really need to stop sneaking in through your girlfriends window.

A/N: end of the 1,000 follower special because i lost my complete draft of nasty & i hate shirt’s prologue so i have to rewrite it whenever i get the chance!

Sneaking into Tara's window was supposed to be a one time thing. She had texted you asking you to come over at midnight, and you had agreed. You had only meant to stay for a few minutes, but you ended up spending the whole night talking and laughing. You knew it was wrong, but it was worth it.

The second time you snuck through Tara's window was two days later. You had promised yourself it wouldn't happen again, but you couldn't help it. You found yourself returning to Tara's window again and again, until sneaking through her window became a regular occurrence. Soon, you discovered that the feeling of sneaking into Tara's room was not just thrilling, but comforting as well. You felt safe and secure in those late night visits, like you had a special secret between the two of you.

Sam was one protective sister and if she found out you had been sneaking through her window she would have been furious. Sam didn't even approve of you and Tara dating in the first place, so she would have been livid if she found out you were coming over late at night. She would have probably had some choice words to say, if not more. Sam was a force to be reckoned with and she wouldn't have let you get away with it. In fact, she would have likely put a stop to it immediately and made sure you never came back.

It's not like you snuck into Tara's room every single day, it was like a weekly thing to do. It felt nice to sleep next to each other even if it was for a couple of hours. You never stayed past midnight but it was enough to make you feel connected. It was a nice escape from reality.

This time, it was different. Tara didn't approach you on campus with a kiss like she usually does before asking you to sneak through her window. This time she texted you randomly at 10:18 PM. You had never seen her do that before, texting you so late. You were a bit worried, but you decided to text back and ask her what was going on.

tara <3 : can u come over

you : what's wrong?

tara <3 : please. just come over. my windows open

you : okay im omw, but is everything okay?

You pause your movements from grabbing your coat as your phone vibrates in your pocket. It's a voice message from Tara, you immediately click play, the audio playing in your right airpod. Your eyes nearly budge out of their sockets as you stare at your screen. Tara moans your name, and you can hear heavy breathing as she stutters out her message. You feel your cheeks flush with heat as you quickly shut off the message. You look around, glancing at a sleeping Chad and Ethan on the other side of your dorm room.

Forgetting about your jacket, you leave the dorm room in a hurry, almost tripping over Ethan's slides in the doorway. You take the stairs two at a time as you rush out the door, hoping to make a quick escape. As you step out into the fresh air, you walk as fast as you can to Tara's apartment, your heart pounding in your chest. You arrive at her window, opening it and calling out her name. She appears at the window, half naked, red cheeks, and a smile on her face.

"You're such a tea—" you're cut off by a pair of soft lips onto yours. You wrap your arms around her waist, feeling the warmth of her skin against yours. You pull back, looking into her eyes and she smiles, resting a hand on the side of your neck before pulling you into a more heated kiss.

You reluctantly break away, both of you breathing heavily. She looks into your eyes before gripping your white tee, trying to pull it off your body. You look around, knowing you should stop, but you can't help but smirk as you allow her to pull it off. She then moves to your Batman pajama pants, roughly pulling them down.

She moves back and looks at you with a sly smile, her eyes roaming your body. You laugh at her before taking her into her arms, your lips meeting in a passionate kiss as you both fall onto the bed. You savor the moment, feeling the warmth of her skin against yours, straddling the shorter girl.

She smiles against your lips before pushing you away gently, her hands running over your abs. You smile at the brunette under you, "What's got you so needy?" She blushes and looks away, biting her lip. "I guess I just want you," she whispers, her eyes finding yours again. You lean back down and kiss her deeply, letting her know without words how much you want her too.

She wraps her arms around your neck, pulling you closer. You can feel her heart beating faster in her chest, and you feel overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. Your lips leave hers, moving to attack her neck. She moans softly, her grip on you tightening. You can feel her trembling, and you know she's as lost in the moment as you are.

She pulls you even closer, her head thrown back in pleasure as you continue to explore her neck with your lips. You can feel her body trembling with anticipation, and you know you can't wait any longer.

You move your lips down to her chest, your hand moves her bra away desperately, your lips finding her hardening nipples. She gasps with pleasure as you slowly move your tongue over her nipples, teasing them into arousal. You can feel her body arching in response, her hands finding their way tangled in your hair.

You move lower, trailing kisses down her body, feeling her shudder beneath your touch. You reach her stomach, exploring her with your tongue as you make your way lower. Your hands find her hips, and you move your mouth to the place between her legs.

You feel her body tense, her breath coming in short gasps as your tongue caresses her. She murmurs softly, her pleasure evident in her voice. You move your hands to her thighs, feeling her trembling with anticipation as you continue your exploration.

"No," she gasps out. You pull away, confused. She takes a deep breath, trying to steady her breathing. She looks up at you, her eyes full of desire.

"I want your cock," she finally whispers, her voice full of need.

You smile, feeling triumphant as you pull down your underwear. She wraps her hand around your length, her touch gentle but sure. You lean in and kiss her, your tongues entwining in passion. You take her then, pushing her to heights of pleasure like she's never known before.

"Fuck." She mutters as you bottom out inside of her. You stay there for a moment, allowing her to savor the feeling before you move in and out of her in a steady, rhythmical motion. "You're so wet, Tara." You groan, gripping the pillow she rests her head on.

She throws her head back and moans in pleasure, her grip on you tightening. You can feel her muscles contracting around you, pulling you deeper into her. "Shit, shit, faster, fuck..." She screams in pleasure, her body trembling with every thrust which is harder and faster as she requested.

Tara's legs wrap around your waist, and her breathing becomes more labored as you push her closer and closer to the edge. She didn't exactly tell you Sam was home, but the idea of her being caught made her pleasure intensify. One of her hands leave your back, moving to hold your forearm as her eyes roll back in pleasure. "Oh my god...fuck, Y/N."

You let out a satisfied moan as her body shudders beneath yours. She reaches her peak before you do, her body going limp beneath you as she's filled with warmth and contentment. You lean down to kiss her softly slowing down your movements to help her ride out her high.

Sam sits up in her bed, her eyebrows furrowed as she swore she just heard the sound of moaning coming from down the hallway. But hearing it's silent, she lies back down, trying to fall back asleep. She listens for a few moments more, before deciding it was just her imagination. With a sigh, she turns over, trying to get comfortable enough to fall back asleep.

Until, she hears it again.

Tara's face is now buried in her pillow, her arms being pulled back behind her as your hips thrust into her relentlessly. She gasps in pleasure as her body moves with yours, pushing back into you with each thrust. A loud slap is heard throughout the room, followed by Tara's moans of pleasure. Her back arches as you build up to your climax, your movements becoming more and more frenzied.

You lean into Tara, letting go of her arms as you wrap a hand around her throat, pulling her back against your chest. She calls out your name as her body trembles, "Y/N...I'm about to cum..." You tighten your grip, pushing her closer to you as your other hand caresses her body. She gasps and her body quivers as you move your hand lower, and her breathing begins to deepen. "Me too, baby."

Sam angrily stomps through her apartment, her body subconsciously walking to Quinn's room. She stops in front of the door, noticing the moans still sound far away. This causes even more confusion in her brows, and she realizes it's coming from Tara's room. Her legs move even faster.

Sam slams open the door to Tara's room, only to find Tara asleep in her bed. Sam stands there, dumbfounded. She can't believe it was all a dream. She quietly closes the door and slowly walks back to her own room, her mind filled with confusion.

You let out a breath, moving from under the bed. "That was so fucking scary." You stand up and Tara watches you with a small smirk on her lips. "I wouldn't let Sam hurt you, baby. You know that." You roll your eyes at your girlfriend, grabbing your shirt to finish getting dressed. You then laugh, pulling your shirt over your head. "Suree..."

Tara pulls you in for a hug, her arms wrapping around your waist. You can feel the warmth of her embrace, and it immediately relaxes you. You press a kiss to her forehead, mumbling against it. "I'll see you tomorrow, love."

She squeezes you tight, before finally letting go. You take a few steps back, smiling at her before turning around and waving goodbye. Tara smiles back, waving as you leave through her window.

#reader insert #tonyspank #wattpad #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x y/n #jenna ortega #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x g!p reader #jenna ortega smut #jenna ortega imagine #tara carpenter smut #tara carpenter imagine #scream 6

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ilwonuu · 2 months

Text

𐦍༘?can i 𐦍༘⋆

↬ choi seungcheol

𓇣 pairing- nonidol!cheol x fem reader, dom!seungcheol x sub!reader, bestfriend!cheol x fem reader, friends to lovers<3

𓇣 summary- your best friend calls you late at night for something other than a innocent hangout.

𓇣 warnings- dumb confessing love to each other, oral sex (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, cum swallowing, kissing, MDNI, lmk what else

𓇣 a/n- this is just a random fic that u wrote a long time ago.. i liked it enough to post so lmk what you think!! should i write a part two? ALSO IM BACK FROM LITERALLY NOT POSTING FOR DAYS!!!! im posting a lot of fics today<3 luv u guys 😡

tossing and turning in your bed has gotten you wide awake. you’ve been trying to fall asleep for the past hour. it now being 1:30am as glance at your clock.

you sigh closing your eyes again before you start to get a call. you groan reaching for your phone. seeing it’s seungcheol you make a confused expression, pressung answer.

“cheol? it’s so late what’s up?” you question and he just sighs. “okay- um this is gonna sound crazy but can i pick you up? i’ve been thinking you all night.” he confesses. his voice sounding tense but lust filled.

“thinking about me? what do you mean?” you are beyond confused now, wanting him to explain it. of course cheol has said something like this to you before, but this time it feels different.

“just let me come get you and i’ll explain then. can i?” he asks. you don’t even know why but your mouth is immediately saying that you would love for him to pick you up.

you having no control when it comes to cheol. you sigh again as you force yourself out of the warmth of your bed to grab some pants to throw on.

quickly changing as you know cheol, how fast he would get to your house. speaking of, your phone lights up with a text from the boy telling you he’s outside. you slip on your slippers and head out of your house into his car.

“well good morning to you.” you say sarcastically as you get into the passenger seat. “can i just drive and explain? it’s kind of a lot to take in.” he starts to drive to your guys usual spot to watch the sunset. you couldn’t do that now obviously…

“so.. were you asleep when i called?” “no unfortunately i haven’t been sleeping very well and these were one of the completely sleepless nights.” he sighs not taking his eyes of the road.

“i’m sorry i hope you can sleep better tomorrow.” he says looking at you for a moment to give you a soft smile before finally arriving at your spot.

“are you gonna tell me why you wanted to pick me up at 2 in the morning?” you turn your gaze to him and he just nods. “don’t freak out okay-“ he cuts himself off.

“y/n- i’m in love with you. and everyday i’m more and more in love with you. i couldn’t get confessing to you off my mind. i wanted you to know in person.” he says looking at you for a reaction, response, anything.

“cheol i-“ he sighs thinking he already knows what you’re gonna say. “i know you don’t feel the same. i had a feeling you didn’t but i just need to tell you okay? it was killing me and i just don’t want anything to be weird now-“ you stop his words with your finger.

“cheol shut up. i’m in love with you too.” you confess as well catching him completely off guard. “wait are you serious? don’t mess with me that’s not funn-“ you cut him with a kiss against his lips.

“you believe me now?” he nods pulling you to kiss him again. “you don’t know how bad i wanted to do that.” he admits with a deep sigh.

“cheol-you know-i- me too.” his hands intertwined with yours. you feel so safe with him. you want nothing more than to be his. you want him to be yours.

“y/n i- please let me kiss you again.” and that’s how you ended up here. on your knees in the backseat next to your best friend, reaching for his dick as he fucks his fingers into you.

“cheol-“ he smirks down at you. “feel good baby? keep going.” you nod at his words finally pulling his dick out of his pants. shocked at the size of course. you have never been with anyone with a dick this big- nearly coming on his fingers.

“go ahead, let me see you baby.” he’s looking down at you with intimidating eyes. you give his dick a couple strokes causing him to hiss but mindlessly ruts his hips up with your hand.

you kitten lick the tip of his dick not breaking eye contact with him. a load groan erupting from him. his fingers are starting to fuck into you faster. your moans against him making him crazy.

“fuck just like- that. feels so fucking good.” his hips moving with your mouth as you fuck yourself back onto his fingers.

“look at you. o-oh fuck” your mouth speeding up on his cock. his fingers curling inside of you causing you to moan. you gag on his dick as his hips start to meet your mouth.

you cum on his fingers hard as you feel him start to fuck your mouth. he fucks his fingers into slowly before pulling them out to bring them up to his mouth.

he hums before groaning when he sees you looking up at him. he pulls his fingers out his mouth, his hand inching to your ass rather quickly.

“i’m gonna- fuck i’m coming. you’re so beautiful.” his cum shooting deep into your mouth as his hips fuck up with his groans.

you keep eye contact with him as you swallow. he groans trying not to fuck your mouth again. you sit up to kiss him.

“you’re so pretty.” he gives you a big smile as the two of you get dressed. you blush and look away from him. “want to come to my house?” he smiles at you.

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virgincels · 2 months

Text

ASKING FOR IT !

ft. og4 leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. p in v, smut, cheating (not on reader), ooc leon sorry, he’s mean, negging, misogyny, reference to past rape/non-con, unresolved trauma, suicidal thoughts duhhh, he calls reader ugly a lot, leon subs for his gf but doms reader, non-con to consensual sex, manipulation, some .. uh waterboarding? he dunks your head in water, opioid addiction but it’s minor LMFAOO

note. haii… um feedback whether it’s good or bad appreciated really forced myself to write this so im like ack. hating everything i write but! ignore typos :3 it’s not as fleshed out as i wanted .. soooo it reads pretty jolty but yah 😭 and the smut is like not. IDK I’m ugh not into it just couldn’t bring myself to extend stuff that I really wanted to develop n he’s ooc. BUT!! again ignore typos or I’ll cry n feedback/constructive criticism appreciated <3

Leon has a girlfriend. He can never hold down a girl, his ability to scare women away is preternatural, so it’s a big deal. And she’s fucking hot. Not like model hot, but pornstar hot. She’s got tits so firm they might as well be bulletproof. Bottle blonde with eyes that swallow up her whole face. Her stomach doesn’t crease when she sits. It’s the type of beauty that takes its form in slashes of red lace and nylon. Not many women are out of his league, but she is.

They have hot sex like attractive people tend to do, and it goes something along the lines of this.

He goes:

Is that dick good, baby? You like it? Right there, baby?

And she goes:

Fuck, yes, baby! Harder, deeper— Oh, right there!

And then she doesn’t cum.

So there’s that, but he’s working on it.

Leon doesn’t take well to tips on how to fuck. Reading advice columns in the Men’s Health magazine leaves a funny taste in his mouth. It might be the blood from the castrated image of his masculinity. Who knows.

He struggles with that sort of thing. A nice face does nothing for a man who doesn’t actually like anything about himself. Leon’s still that wimpy self-hating loser he was all those years ago. In all fairness to God, there are a few added tweaks here and there. Some bug fixes. Now he’s drunk and shallow too! Misanthropic when he’s at his very best.

As a kid, mom told Leon to be a nice boy so he was a nice boy. Not because he was ever a particularly nice boy, but for her sake. So instead of acting out he would go and crush ants beneath his thumb in the front yard because there is this mean part of Leon that splinters inside of him like cooked bones.

Life to Leon is being fucked into apologising for being alive so it’s no wonder he’s still harbouring the insecurities of a boy he isn't.

When he was eighteen it was by ugly old men who abhorred him for being the embodiment of whatever it was they were hiding from their wives. His legs looked nice thrown over a pair of big shoulders. They were so thin back then, model-type shit. All of those men mildly resembled his dad, but that’s something he wouldn’t quite like to crack down on yet. Leon’s being open enough as it is.

When he was twenty-one it was his headache of a first girlfriend. It was the bullet wound in his shoulder. When he was twenty-two it was being passed around boot camp like a dirty needle. When he was twenty-seven it was Luis who was nothing and everything in between. It was a picture book princess like Ashley. The scar on his shoulder. Stigmata. Glory Be. Whatever.

(And Jack, it was always Jack. Pale all over like a healed scar.)

What Leon is trying to get across, he’s not quite sure. Maybe that he's nice in theory and the reality is he’s a self-confessed charlatan of niceness. Or that he can’t fuck. He can’t fuck because he is deeply traumatised. Yeah. Maybe that’s what he’s trying to say. It’s an excuse, sure, doesn’t make it the truth though. Leon can’t fuck ‘cause he’s useless at most things that don’t include guns. He can’t fuck ‘cause he was unattractive as a teenager and that solidified the way he feels about himself now.

Leon’s got one thing going for him - he fingers her pussy till his fingers prune. Eats her out till he gets lockjaw.

“Oh, you’re so good at that,” she says, kissing his slicked-up lips.

Then her eyes flit to his hard dick and she gives him that strange half-smile. One that seems to say: Not with that. His dick. Obviously.

His shit is big enough, it’s long enough— It’s enough. And it’s pretty. Could put a bow on to make it real cute. Could manufacture a dildo inspired by it. So Leon cannot for the life of him wrap his head around her problem. It’s not his dicks fault her pussy is fucking broken. Her broken pussy doesn’t get to make his dick sad. Doesn’t get to lay devastating blows on his gone-with-the-wind ego.

Another thing is, her sister is an ugly bitch. That upsets Leon and his dick in tow. You’re a student, taking a break for some reason Leon has not bothered to fathom. He couldn’t care less. Go do it someplace else. In this house, you’re nothing more than a cockblock. Leon could forgive you for being a cockblock if you weren’t ugly. Or vice versa.

It would be okay if Leon wasn’t stuck at home with you for hours at a time. Work fucked up his back, so he’s staying here in his girlfriend’s apartment eating her food, running her taps, fucking her badly and shitting on her sister.

You’re sat on the other end of the table with a soggy bowl of cereal while he nurses a juice box like a real man. What do ugly little things like you think about anyway?

When Leon was ugly he thought about forcing his dick into the cute girl next door between his more regular thoughts of what to eat for dinner and whether he stocked up on toilet paper or not.

When he was ugly, his day was made simply by a pretty girl looking in his general direction. So Leon makes sure to look in yours. Y’know, to fuel your perverted wet dreams. Your rape fantasies. What freaks think about when they’re near hot guys. Well, it’s strange actually. You tend to totally ignore him. When the two of you make brief eye contact, you don’t flounder or duck or bow your head like you’re shy— You just move on with your life. That bothers him. Leon’s hot now. He’s not the type of man you just brush over like that. He’s the type you gawk at in broad daylight, he’s the sort of guy you see in soft porn magazines.

“Good morning,” his girlfriend greets, “have a good sleep, sweetie?” She bumps your hip when you stand up to hug her.

She’s wearing stockings today. Oh, he loves stockings. He loves pencil skirts. He loves— He loves office wear. He wants to be put over her lap and spanked raw perhaps.

“Yeah, it’d be nice if your boyfriend stopped moaning like a girl though.” It’s said into her ear, but Leon hears it.

“I’m going now, honey,” his girlfriend tells him.

Like a good boy, Leon stands to bid her goodbye. Her blouse is sheer, shows off her black bra and he eyes it with distaste.

“What’s wrong, Leon?”

He doesn’t speak. Just glares at her perfect set of tits like a baby weaned off milk.

“I can’t take them off,” she snorts.

Leon wishes she could. Hang ‘em up in the closet and pop them back on when it’s time to play. Tits are for the bedroom. Otherwise, they’re too much of a distraction. Instead, he settles on slipping his hand up her skirt to check if she’s wearing panties. (There’s no panty line showing through her pencil skirt and that’s always a bad sign.) She shoos him away.

So Leon leans in for a kiss, and she says, “Nuh-uh, honey, you’ll ruin my makeup.” Then she gives in ‘cause Leon can be kinda cute when he tries hard enough. “Just one, okay?”

“Yeah.” Leon nods. Her kisses are analgesic. Which is unfortunate considering he has an opioid addiction. Almost an addiction.

“One,” she counts, Leon kisses her again, “two, three, four.”

She’s teasing him now.

“Okay, well, keep an eye on her, Leon.”

“I’m not twelve,” you say, exiting the kitchen to spare yourself the sight of him groping your older sister.

Yeah, and Leon’s not a bang nanny.

He wipes the red from his lips, takes his juice box from the table where you’re no longer and decides jerking off in the shower will make him feel better. Leon does. He finishes. Watches his seed wash down the drain and wonders if that was wasteful. A short intermission is taken, then he jerks off in front of her full-body mirror. His biceps flex and his abs tighten, and he looks fucking good.

Why isn’t she cumming? What’s wrong with her? Is she getting too old? Is menopause hitting already? She’s only thirty-something. It can’t be that, and she asked Leon to pick up tampons last week— Unless they were for you.

Nobody in this house tells Leon anything. Another shower is what he needs. No, he needs a smoke. Leon doesn’t smoke. He does the next best thing, rests idly against the railings of her balcony, observing the ballet of D.C. life. Man, he could throw himself over right now. Splat against the asphalt and that would be it. It’d all be over. Hauling his weight over would be no problem. Catastrophizing to pass the time. Men used to do this for a living in Ancient Greece. What happened to philosophising? Leon could be a philosopher, all they did was spout nonsense and he is good at that. Not at fucking, however.

Beer. Yeah. Beer. That’s what he needs. Leon ransacks the fridge to no avail. Health-conscious living is the reason for misery, he believes. See, very insightful, modern-day Socrates right here. Lean proteins, vegan substitutes, low-fat yoghurt— It’s so girly it makes him sick.

“She’s still on a health kick,” you say from behind him, “I thought it was a New Years thing, but she’s still, like, super into it.”

Why are you talking to him? Leon blinks at you owlishly. “Right,” he says.

You give him a funny look, turning back to the counter to use the coffee machine. Don’t you want him? You’re not shy. Why aren’t you shy? Shouldn’t you be shy? Ugly Leon was mute around girls whether they were short, fat, ugly or pretty. Shit, he is clucking for a beer.

“There's Chardonnay under the sink.” Well, that’s unhelpful.

“Yeah, I don’t- I don’t drink that.” He would like to finish his sentence off with ‘girly shit’ but you seem like the type to find that offensive.

“Figured.” The coffee machine whirs. A lobotomised silence ensues. “Good talk.”

You’re so ugly you’re asking for it. Perfect subject for the ‘I can’t make my girlfriend cum, is her pussy broken?’ experiment. Ugly girls don’t count as a fuck, right? Not when they’re sent to the very back of your mind after said fuck. He wonders how many girls counted the uglier him as an official lay.

You’re on your tummy reading a book. The Beautiful and Damned. Leon had no idea they wrote a book about him. The door creaking exposes his creeping against his will.

“Do you need something?” you ask without batting an eye.

The swell of your ass is nice. “Uh, yeah, I do.”

Rolling over and sitting up to face him, you tilt your head to the side. “Go on.”

“I want to have sex with you.” Woah. Okay. That’s a genie he can’t put back in the bottle. Fuck, why does he do this stupid shit? Leon should just kill himself. All roads lead to suicide. Every sign points towards suicide and he is still holding on for dear life.

Think about Sherry. Sherry won’t care, kids hit sixteen and don’t give a fuck about much, he reasons with the voice in his head. How about Claire? Oh, she’ll think good fucking riddance. Redfield? No way. You are truly out of options, Kennedy.

“I’m sorry?”

Oh, god no, Leon’s the one that should be sorry. “You heard me.” The apology comes out incredibly wrong. “I’m helping you out.”

“Helping me out with what? I’m sorry, Leon, I didn’t… I didn’t think I— I don’t know what made you think I wanted this from you, but I don’t like you—“

You don’t like him? Why not? He’d like a list of reasons with a page-long explanation. What’s not to like? The hair. It’s the hair. Blond is too girly. That’s what it is.

“—I mean, you’re with my sister, did you really think I would say yes? I’m sorry, I’m just a little confused, where is this coming from? Gosh, I really… I don’t know what to say.”

“I’m helping you out,” Leon repeats, using his hands to gesture at your face, at your body. “No one else is gonna do it.” This apology has gone way out of bounds. A simple sorry would have sufficed.

“What..?” Something doleful crosses your face, then it twists unpleasantly. “You think I want to have sex with you… ‘cause I’m not cute? Like, you think I’m…”

Ugly, yes. He does. Only a little. Can you turn over? He wants to make you cum. “You’re a virgin, yeah?”

“Oh my god, there’s, like, something wrong with you!” You stand to your full height in a pitiful attempt to appear frightening. That face is enough to scare a man away already. “Get out— And I am so telling her when she gets back home, I told her I didn’t like you, I told her and now you just-“

Leon grabs you by the jaw, squeezes you so tight it clicks. “Okay, sweetheart, here’s how this is going to go,” he starts, taking both your wrists in a single hand, “we’re going to start over, and you’re going to be a good little girl and apologise to me like you really mean it.”

“Apologise for what?” It comes out muffled through your forced pout so he chooses to ignore you.

“I don’t know what you fuckin’ said.” Leon should just end it here, he should let go of you and check into the nearest asylum. He’s hot. Leon is box blond. He’s tall enough to dwarf most girls. His face is nice. His body is nicer. So he doesn’t know what his problem is. Once pinned down, you shrink away from him, expression so sour your skin looks ready to melt off your skull.

And then he fucks you till you stop screaming. He leaves you in a withered heap, heads back to his room to take a well-deserved nap, hides his face in the pillows. They smell like her. He should think about killing himself some more. That gun looks awfully shiny. Nth time could be the charm.

She gets home in the evening, drops her bag on the floor to alert him of her entrance.

“I missed you.” Leon noses at her neck.

“You were sleeping.” She ruffles his hair like he’s a child.

“I still missed you.”

“Even when you’re sleeping?”

In the least creepy way possible, he wants to wear her skin as a suit, and she thinks his body doesn’t yearn for her at every sleeping second?

“The most when I’m sleeping, have bad dreams without you,” Leon mumbles groggily.

“How cute,” she muses, “good day?”

“Great day.” Leon nods. “Real productive.”

“Oh yeah? What’d you get up to?” A singular red nail strokes along his spine.

“Thought about you,” he answers, leaving out the part where he spent half of his time jerking off. Oh, and the part where he fucked her sister into submission. He raped you. He did. Leon doesn’t like that word. Far too harsh.

“Now, don’t push it, mister.” When she smiles there’s a lack of wrinkles— Not even smile lines, it’s artificial almost.

Leon’s good at pushing buttons. He should get paid for it. “It’s true, if you said jump I’d ask how high.”

“You’re so funny, Leon.” She kisses his head and laughs all prim and proper.

“Serious, babe, I’m super partial to jumping,” he says to hear her laugh again. He’s more partial to suicide. It’s great. A one-way ticket off of God’s green inferno. Who would he even be without suicide ideation?

“Alright, but I’d like you all in one piece.” She kisses his cheek. “No jumping, okay, honey?” She kisses his neck and his collarbones and his Adam’s apple and he’s unable to breathe.

“Okay,” Leon says. He gets it now. She’s mommying him. Maybe this is what Leon needs. To play house. A daddy to fuck his throat and a mommy to sit on his dick and tell him that he’s a good boy and he’s needed and he won’t have to think if he has a mommy and daddy to do that for him.

Can he backtrack on the rape thing? Trust Leon to take a good thing and ruin it in the worst way possible. If he kissed you he could’ve wormed his way out of it. Told her it was the medication he’s on, that he had a mental breakdown, a midlife crisis.

At dinner, your silence slips under the radar like cumstains on motel bedsheets. You pick at your food, and when Leon’s knee brushes yours under the table, you excuse yourself. Sometimes he thinks that he is a bad person, this can be backed up by many things. Violating you might outweigh saving the world.

In bed, he thinks about changing, about calling his therapist in the morning, he might take a leap off that balcony, cleaning up his act sounds terribly hard. Leon does this all with his head tucked into the hollow of his girlfriend’s neck. The thinking has killed his boner and now he can’t get it up. So he pretends to fall asleep. It’s an unconvincing performance ‘cause the moment she swipes a hand over his ass he lets out a disgruntled noise. Leon clenches so quickly his stomach caves in.

“You don’t like that, honey?”

He shakes his head, overgrown bangs falling in his eyes. Leon has a nice ass. It’s no wonder she wants to touch it, leg presses have done him wonders, but still, it’s off-limits. She can’t sweet talk her way into this anytime soon.

“Why, Leon?” She’s cupping his ass like he’s a girl. Leon’s not a girl. “You’d look so cute.”

“No,” he whines, and it sounds kind of sexy. He gets it. He can see the appeal.

“I think you just need some encouragement, baby.” She’s taking him apart like a gun. Folding him like laundry. Milks his prostate so well he sleeps like a baby. Not even a shadow of an orgasm to be seen from her side.

She leaves early the next morning and he’s left alone to ruminate. What he finds out today is that you’re pretty diligent at sucking dick when forced.

Leon thinks he would like to break you in a way that only he can fix.

He pushes your head down on his dick till your lips are stretched so far they split at the corners, you gag wetly each time the fat tip knocks the back of your throat, heavy balls slapping against your chin.

“Aww, look at you,” Leon coos, “little girl taking big things.”

Fat tears well in your eyes, a faint tremor betrays your effort to hold them back, a single blink and they roll down your cheeks like dewdrops. It might be the dick lodged in your throat, pulsing under your tongue— Yeah, no, it’s his dick in your mouth. That’s why you're upset. No other reason for it. Leon finds you a little ungrateful. A lot of women would pay for this, to drain his balls. Hell, your sister loves to do it.

“One at a time, sweetheart,” he says as he guides you to his balls, “can’t have you choking, can we?” You look up at him blankly. Leon thought he was funny and that’s all that matters. “Go on, spit on ‘em, get me nice and wet.” The drool pooling beneath your tongue drizzles his balls in clear strings, his drippy tip bumps the bridge of your nose, rests comfy on your brow ridge.

You’re struggling real bad. He’ll take it as a compliment. The thing is, you refuse to just lick them, pulling off each ball with a wet pop! and a dry cough. Leon starts to zone out so he shoves you off and quite pathetically, you fall flat on your back.

“You didn’t shave,” Leon notes in distaste, he was going to do you a favour too.

“No— Not for you.” You squirm like a fish on the docks when he hovers over you.

“Not for me, right.”

“Anyone but you.”

“You're not gonna do it for anyone, sweetheart, know why?” Leon clicks his tongue when you dodge his kiss, twisting your neck to keep a distance.

“Why?”

“No one else wants you,” he states, “you’re lucky that I want you.”

“Well, that’s not true.” You’re stubborn amongst all your other undesirable traits.

Leon scoffs. “What, so you ever had a boyfriend?” He runs his index finger along your slit. Bone dry. Serious? He assumes you’re still sore from yesterday.

“That’s none of your fucking business.”

“Don’t get mad at me, honey, I’m just helping you out.” Leon spits on your pussy, then on his thick cock for good measure, jerks his shaft and presses a thumb to his tip to guide it into you. Your lips fold inwards around him as he breaches your tiny hole. There’s too much resistance for it to be a smooth sailing journey, and you’re new to cock, cunt pushing him out as your body tenses. “I’m being nice to you, so you should say thank you.”

“Oh, god,” you mutter, brows knit in what might be pain or pleasure.

“Yeah, that’s what you’re calling me now?” The look you give him is priceless, small hands settling on his chest as you push at him weakly. “No, baby, you don’t get to do that.” Leon bottoms out, he rolls his hips forward to grind the head of his dick into your cervix, the fleshly opening moulds to his tip and you cry out. He can never tell if you’re enjoying it.

Leon sticks his fingers in your mouth to coat them in spit, you retch and he rubs figure eights on your clit, only then does your cunt loosen up its hold on him. It’s a quick process, the quicker he rubs you raw, the wetter you get, biting down on your tongue to keep quiet, but low groans slip past your cracked lips.

“Oh, there we go, baby, that’s it,” Leon coos, his cock slicked up by your wet pussy, sliding in and out with ease. His hips snap forward, forcing himself deeper into your messy little pussy, so wet you’re dripping down his balls, wetness stuck to your inner thighs.

“Fuck— I can’t, I can’t do it, ‘s too big,” you whimper, a hand slipping between your bodies to lay on your stomach. What you don’t understand is that he is big, yeah, but your pussy just needs to be broken in. Like a new pair of shoes.

“You’re doing it, baby,” Leon says, ‘cause you are doing it. You’re taking it. Body going rigid with each brutal thrust into your sopping wet hole. Whether you can take it or not isn’t for you to decide anyway. “I’m going to stuff your little pussy full,” he tells you.

“No,” you choke out, scratching at his chest, nails too blunt to do any sort of damage. Thank fuck. His girlfriend would go nuts.

It’s a satisfying victory, he covers your mouth to concentrate all his energy into this creampie, fills you to the brim, seed thick enough to stick to your insides. The original aim of his ‘experiment’ is forgotten, Leon doesn’t care if you cum or cry or pass out on his dick.

“I’m tellin’ her when she comes home.” Your threat is weak. He feared the consequences of yesterday, but you said nothing.

“You’re not telling her, you like me too much,” Leon decides, “I know you do, baby.”

“I don’t like you at all.” Your bottom lip trembles, fists balled up by your sides. The contempt only turns him on.

“No, but I think you know I’m right, don’t you?” No one else wants you, and you know that. Leon knows you know that. He’s the only one that is ever going to fuck you.

“Right about what? You’re a fucking psycho— I could get you locked up, I should get you locked up.”

“You should, so what're you waiting for?” If you did report him, Leon would just kill himself, going to prison sounds like a bore. “I think, sweetheart, that secretly, you really like it when I rape you.”

And your silence proves him right.

That report never comes. Duh. You love his dick. You like being roughed up. You know you’re deserving of it. Jesus Christ, Leon needs to call his shrink. Honestly, being around you is hard. It’s like his guilty conscience has developed a human body, shambling around the apartment in the shape of a malformed ghost girl, reminding him of the shit he’s said and done to you. You’re spinning in his necrosed brain like one of those music box ballerinas.

“Leon, be a doll and do me up,” his girlfriend is facing away from him, the smooth skin of her back and shoulders bared to him.

Leon only hears the ‘do me’ part, kissing the nape of her neck, reaching round to grab at her fat tits. “I love you…”

“I love you too, baby, but what do you think you’re doing?”

Leon makes a motion with his fingers, she sees it in the mirror.

“What is that, sign language?”

“No, I want to finger you.”

“Oh, well, that’s lovely, baby, but it’s not the time for that. I asked you to zip me up, Leon.” He zips her up while wondering how she can be so unaffected by him being so stupid.

“Hey, are you ready to go?” You knock on the door, you keep hiding your face from him today. His girlfriend said it’s ‘cause you have makeup on. Apparently that changes things. It’s sort of cute. Like, are you shy? You should be shy.

“Oh, no one likes cliffhangers, honey,” she says, forcing you to swap out some open-toe sandals for a pair of her heels. “Okay, Leon, I’ve left your dinner in the fridge, yes?”

Yes, mommy. “Yeah, babe.”

“And there’s snacks in the cupboard now, oh, and don’t use the tap water, it tastes strange so I stocked up— Leon, will you stop doing that with your jaw?”

Sorry, mommy. “Sorry, babe.”

“He’s totally fucking gurning,” you inform her in a way that screams playground snitch. He’ll choke you out for that.

“Gurning, what’s that?” His girlfriend asks cluelessly. This bitch is in her early thirties, Leon has no idea why she acts fifty. Whatever, it’s hot, he gets a girl with all the traits of an older lady without the sagging.

“Like, y’know, ‘cause he’s on meds.” What a little shit. Is this you getting back at him? Some petty fucking act of revenge? Getting his medication taken away from him by his health freak girlfriend?

“Medication? I didn’t know about this, Leon.” She looks at him like he’s killed her mother. Or raped her sister. If only she knew.

“Yeah, for my back, my back hurts, babe— Th-That’s why I’m on leave. My back hurts.” What a compelling act. Totally not a dude that’s two minutes away from injecting black tar heroin.

“Who prescribed them, a doctor or a vet?” You cock your head to the side. Fine. You fucking got him.

“Same thing.” Leon shrugs.

She makes him empty the bedside desk of pills. “Leon, good boys don’t do this. We don’t take drugs in this household, let me take them off your hands.”

“They’re- Babe, they’re not drugs, they’re for my back— I hurt my back.” Granted, his back stopped aching a few days back, he’s just taking advantage of the break. Also, he’s not a child.

“Your back, honey, I know it hurts.” She waves him off. “We can fix it, huh? I can book you in for acupuncture or cupping— Oh, what about a chiropractor?”

“Fine,” Leon says, voice cracking, watching in devastation as she takes his pills in a black garbage bag.

“Bye, Leon, see you later, honey.” She blows him a kiss and he catches it. He has to catch it.

“Yeah, bye, Leon!” You wave at him, looking happier than you have in days.

The door opens an hour later and Leon takes his hand out of his pants. You stand in front of him with red eyes and messy makeup. Leon, being the gentleman he is, takes you into his arms and rubs your back to soothe you as he tells you, more than a little cruel, I fucking told you so.

At least now you know that some guys aren’t as nice as Leon. Some men will spit in your face without considering how tight your pussy is, they won’t even think about how good your tits look in that push-up bra. See? That’s what the real world is like.

The bath fills as he bends you over the sofa. You’re prettier from behind, dress hiked up, soaked panties around your ankles. His hand smooths down the front of your stomach to cup your puffy cunt, prodding at your swollen clit. You shaved. Funny. Thought you were going to get a dick that wasn’t his.

Leon kneels, he spreads your ass cheeks to lick into your pussy from behind, tongue lapping up the beads of arousal that dribble down the seam of your cunt like sticky honey. He laps at your hole and you arch your back to push into him, his tongue fucking your pussy so well, sloppy sounds fill his ears.

“Been wanting to do this,” Leon says into your cunt, tongue making its way back up the centrefold of your fat pussy, he blows spit bubbles on your clit and then he nips at it until you cry out, startled by the jolt of pain. His dick kicks in his sweats. You taste good to make up for that face of yours.

You cream in his mouth so sweetly, toes curling against the wooden floor. Leon wipes his mouth on his forearm, then he wraps it around your neck, pulling your body flush to his. In his chest, his heart flutters when you press a delicate kiss to his bicep. He feels it and you can’t unfeel that.

“I’m sorry, Leon,” you get out through shaky moans as he sandwiches his shaft between your chubby pussy lips, bumping the tip into your clit as his hips move back and forth. “I’m sorry… Didn’t know-“

“It’s okay, baby.” He kisses behind your ear. “It’s alright ‘cause you know now, huh?”

“Yeah,” you agree tearfully, tilting your head so it rests on his broad chest, he gives your pout some wet kisses.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, hm, baby?” Leon nudges you with his nose.

Your idea of cleaning up might be far from what Leon’s is. He doesn’t think you were expecting something so extreme. But it’s for thinking you’re worth something— For thinking that anyone else would do as little as touch you. It’s to wash off that pitiful attempt at makeup.

He bends you in half over the tub. Your tits hang low enough to be squashed against the edge painfully as Leon dunks your head into lukewarm water. Holy shit. Tomorrow will be the day he overdoses. Why is he doing this?

A strangled noise passes your lips as he lets up, and you re-emerge, Leon wipes a hand over your face to rid you of the streaky mascara and sticky gloss.

“There we go, sweetheart, nice and clean.” He presses the tip into your leaking cunt, it catches on your hole, and you flail, water spilling over the edge, surface tension broken as it ripples.

Honest to god, Leon hasn’t fucked a pussy tighter than yours, and when he holds you beneath the surface? Man, you might deglove his dick. He works his cock into you, and when he’s balls deep in your sloppy cunt, Leon allows you to lift your head to which you pant and gasp and cough. All the shit a drowning person does when they’re tossed a lifesaver.

Your body sags, hanging limp with only Leon to hold you up as he roughly fucks in and out of your poor hole, heavy balls slapping against your skin.

“I love you, Leon,” you tell him, rubbing at your stinging nose with your fist, pussy tightening when he pinches your throbbing clit.

“Aw, do you, baby? You love me?” Leon laughs, the mean smile on his face hidden in your shoulder, “That’s so cute.” He rocks back and forth, shallow thrusts that are more for him than they are for you, rabbiting his dick into your squelching pussy until his balls pulse and his shaft twitches inside of you. “Real— Real fuckin’ cute,” he grits out as he buries himself to the hilt, shooting his load in your willing little pussy.

“I think so,” you whimper, thighs trembling as the knot in your stomach snaps and you coat his cock in your slick. Hey, his dick isn't a problem then.

Leon thinks about calling his shrink. The bad shit he does won’t fix itself like he wants. “Clean up,” he tells you, looking at the wet ground. The soaked rug. Your face.

“What… Leon, where are you going?” You use your palms to mop the excess water from your face. “Seriously, Leon? I just… I told you that…”

He has things to do - Leon’s going to call his shrink and very promptly throw himself over the balcony when she doesn’t answer his call.

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy angst #leon s kennedy smut #resident evil x you #resident evil angst #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

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luvyeni · 3 months

Text

p. bf!park jisung x fem bodied reader | warnings: mutual masterbation, semi public, p in v | words: 0.6k ~ (623) 🐹ㆍ₊⊹

request: Please make anything with ji or chenle dying over here 😫

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

He was wearing those sinful grey again , the ones that he knew made you all dizzy in the head — and he was proven right when he sat down on the couch and saw your eyes zone right on the sweatpants , gulping as you tried to turn away. “you okay?” he asked , knowing you were fucking losing it on the inside. “good because the guys want to watch a movie with us.”

You wanted to curse , out of all times did it have to be now? Did they have to watch it now? You were slowly loosing it and jisung could see it — your constant shifting , your pretty thighs clenching; he smirked, he loved when you got like this. “you cold?”

“hm?” you could even answer before he was pulling the blanket over your body. “better?” you nodded , he leaned down to plant a kiss on your lips. “ew gross.” haechan moved off the couch , joining the rest of them on the floor , leaving you alone on the couch.

He pulled away, you thought he was gonna straighten back up to finish the movie— but he moved closer to your ear, his breath fanning against your ear, making you shiver. “keep quiet baby.”

You were confused , until you felt his hands creep down in between your thighs. Your eyes widened looking at him , he smiled pushing them open , his hand finding its way into your shorts, cupping your heat. You bit your lip trying to contain your voice as he pulled your panties to the side, pushing a finger in.

Your hand flew to his thigh— making sure the guys weren’t looking; before undoing the string of those god forsaken sweats, slipping your hand into his boxers, where is cock twitched, waiting for you to touch it. “go ahead.” He whispered. “stroke it baby.”

You began to move, trying to match his pace on your cunt. It was risky and at any moment you could be caught, but in the moment both of you didn’t care, desperate to get each other off— both of you wishing both of you were alone so you could be as , loud as you want, especially since you were about to cum. “fu-fuck stop.”

Jisung had to force himself to say, the movie was finally over, neither one of you able to cum. “we should get to bed, we have practice tomorrow.” Everyone agreed, dragging their tired bodies to their respected room, leaving you both. “both of you get some sleep.”

You waited until the last door to barley close before jisung was lifting you into his lap, pulling his sweats down enough. “fuck I need to be inside you.” He pulled your shorts to the side, holding you by the waist as slowly sinking into you, both of you sighing, finally getting the fill you both craved. “sh-shit.”

Both of you were desperate to get off, his head thrown back against the couch as you bounced on his cock, your skin slapping against each other. “fuck, keep bouncing on my dick -shit- im gonna cum.” He groaned, hold your ass in his hands. “of fuck please cum baby.” He let out a whimper like moan, as you clenched around him— he kissed you to conceal his moans as he shot ropes of cum into your cunt.

“shit.” He said, both of you heavily breathing. “fu-fuck, did you have to wear those sweatpants? Get me worked up like that.” He smiled tiredly. “it was hot watching you lose it over a pair of sweats.”

“you think they heard?”

“why do you think they went into their rooms?”

“to sleep?”

“it’s 10:30 and we don’t have practice.”

©️LUVYENI

#kpop x reader #kpop smut #nct smut #nct hard thoughts #nct hard hours #nct drabbles #nct scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream smut #nct dream hard thoughts #nct dream hard hours #nct dream scenarios #nct dream drabbles #park jisung scenarios #park jisung smut #park jisung drabbles #park jisung x reader #park jisung hard thoughts #park jisung hard hours

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ultravioletrayz · 3 months

Note

a request? what about your edging miguel and so you let him cum since he begging it however we continuing to do it? and so what about this but with cumplay ? you know,and he.....like into it,like you playing with he cum, on his body.thigh. abs, idk anywhere and just licking it idk?

so a kinda dom/sub!miguel x fem!reader

yea im crazy for a whiny men whos loves anything we do and espically whimper and beg

you with me girlie?

Yes yes yes, totally with you.

The plot for this was inspired by this ask, btw!!

@ce3stvu tagging my bby girl <3

Pairing: sub!miguel o’hara x dom!f!reader

Warnings: 18+, handjob, edging, cumplay, cum eating, dacryphillia if you squint, themes of jealousy

Summary: you remind miguel who he belongs to

A/N: i love dom!migs, but something about imagining that big man all whiny and crying is sooo hot

Word Count: 1K

It’s all that stupid bitch’s fault. The thought is swirling around in Miguel’s head on repeat as his hips pathetically twitch and spasm upwards to try and loosen the grip you have around the blushing tip of his cock. Still, you merely apply more pressure, squeezing his poor head so hard your fingers act as a makeshift cock ring, making it impossible for Miguel to acquire any sense of relief as your other hand fondles his heavy, aching balls with little skill, your only goal being to tease him.

This was a much better way of reminding Miguel of your loyalty to one another than talking it out. Frankly, you didn’t even know how to approach discussing the topic. You were supposed to be Miguel’s angelic, bubbly little girlfriend. You didn’t want to cause a fight over some random spider-woman from work.

Instead, you smile from ear to ear as you watch the beads of tears that cling to Miguel’s gorgeous, thick eyelashes as he sobs and begs to cum, after you’ve denied climax after climax with your possessive grip around the thick circumference of his dick.

There’s no doubt in your mind that other spider-people can hear Miguel’s unapologetic whines from outside his office, and the thought makes your mind a hazy fog of lust and pride. Hopefully, that new girl that Miguel was training, the one that kept running her grubby hands all over his arms and back like you were an idiot and wouldn’t notice her blatant flirting.

You had initially felt guilty when you pulled Miguel away from his sparring session with the girl, leading him to his office with one goal in mind: reiterating that Miguel is yours and yours alone.

But now that he's been forced into becoming this mess of desperation and sticky pre-cum, your worries and shame have vanished. Only your touch can make Miguel feel this way, making him lose all of his self-control and dignity. And he does the same thing to you. Sure, an outsider would probably say all of this jealousy and possessiveness is toxic or overbearing, but you and Miguel can't help but cling to one another. You're each other's soulmates. That new girl could never compare.

"Hah- ah, fuck! M-Mami, por favor… need- ah! need to cum. Please, please l-lemme cum-!" Miguel begs, his tear-stained cheek squished against the smooth material of your spider suit that conceals your tits, but the warmth of his face seeps through the fabric, his breath causing your nipples to perk up at the subtle contact as you lean over him and giggle.

You keep your fingers squeezed around his tip, rubbing his swollen head in circular motions as your other hand cups his balls in the comfort of your palm. The tension around Miguel’s tip is almost torturous, making him curse and thrash around in his office chair as he desperately attempts to make your hand slip even slightly so that his dick can breathe again.

The thick, chocolate-brown hair that adorns the tan flesh from his belly button down to his base caresses your forearm each time Miguel fails to push through the restraint of your fist and thrust into your closed hand.

You feel bad for taking your insecurities out on your poor, unsuspecting boyfriend, who was just trying to be a good boss and do his job, so you decide to give him a break.

"Yeah? You gonna cum for me, guapo?" You coo teasingly, releasing the pressure around the leaky head of Miguel's cock and instead starting to pump his shaft, your pace fast and sloppy as you make up for the time spent prohibiting Miguel from having any kind of release.

Miguel's climax hits him like a freight train, his back arching drastically and his claws digging into his seat as his rock-hard cock spurts bucket loads of cum up into the air, the gooey strands of his devotion to you hitting his toned abs and coating the hair on his thighs and stomach, creating a pooling mess of semen, sweat, and tears as he slumps back in his chair and splutters.

You watch with wide eyes as Miguel's cum decorates his tan skin, like an abstract painting of your composition. And you couldn't be more proud of yourself. In a hypnotised state of desire and devotion, you scramble to your knees in between Miguel's spread thighs.

With a smile on your face, you lick a fat, sloppy stripe from Miguel's pelvis up to his juicy pecs, gathering his cum on your flat tongue and swallowing. He tastes divine.

No other bitch would treat him like this, using her hands and mouth to worship him like you do. You lap up every thick glob of shimmering cum from Miguel's panting body, not even able to savour it due to your desperation to taste all of him.

"You taste so good, Mig." You moan, eyes fluttering at the salty, decadent flavour of Miguel's cum flooding your senses. Your hand keeps pumping him slowly, milking every last drop of his delicious cum from his cock as you worship his body and devour his essence as it glistens on his stomach and thighs.

Your free hand scoops up some of his mess to watch how the strings make your fingers stick together, before shoving your digits in your mouth and sucking the cum off your fingers.

Miguel chuckles and moans at the sight of his pretty girl so desperate to please him, all to ensure his loyalty. The fact that you're more willing to drag your wet tongue up and down his cum-covered, shivering body than have a conversation about your feelings is a little odd, but Miguel's not complaining. It's sweet to see how much you love him, and how much you hate that new bitch for thinking she stands a chance against you.

Miguel holds your chin in his hands and stops you from feasting on any more of his cum, directing your gorgeous face upwards so that you're staring into his eyes. You rest your tacky hands on his thighs, making him tremble ever so slightly at the way your skin sticks to his, binding the two of you together.

Breathlessly, Miguel whispers to you, his girl, his one and only, the love of his life, with a crooked smile on his sweaty, fucked-out face.

"Sólo para ti, hermosa."

sick and tired of miguel being depicted as the “jealous and possessive” one in the relationship. If I had a man like that, I’d be just as crazy

#ultravioletrayz #miguel smut #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara smut #spiderman 2099 smut #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #spider man 2099 x reader #miguel 2099 #miguel ohara #spider man 2099 #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel ohara x you #miguel spiderverse #miguel x you

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talaok · 4 months

Text

His favorite patient

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x reader

Summary: Your friend Pedro takes care of you while you're sick, and he's such a good doctor, that something sparks between the two of you.

warnings: reader being sick and having a fever (?) and my shitty writing cause im tired

(this was a request, and a very beautiful one too)

All you had done was text him that you were sick, and the next thing you knew, he was knocking at your door.

And that wasn't even the weirdest part, the weirdest part was that you weren't surprised, because that's how Pedro was, caring, protective, and always there for you, no matter what.

The first thing he'd done as you opened the door was scolding you for even being up, and consequently, the second was ushering you to your own couch and forcing you to sit down.

You laughed the whole time at how worried he was, but then again, your genuine gratitude shined through with his every act, a gentle smile and a "thank you" spilled out of your lips the moment he made you tea, or wrapped you up in a blanket, or pulled you into his chest when the cover stopped being enough.

You remained like that, hiding in his arm while watching tv for the whole afternoon, but unfortunately, after he'd made you some soup (which you had tried convincing you could cook on your own) and ate it with you, it was time for him to go.

So with a heavy heart and a final hug, he was gone... only to return 2 minutes later.

"Missed me already?" you joked, opening the door again

"Always" he smiled, before getting more serious "I have a problem with my car" he explained "It's not turning on, and I-" he scratched the back of his neck, trailing off "I kind of have no way of getting home"

"oh" you breathed, understanding the situation "You can just stay here" You shrugged, the solution obvious in your eyes

"Are you sure? I don't wanna be a burden or anythin-"

"a burden?" you frowned, stunned "What are you talking about Pedro, you could never be a burden" you promised, inviting him in again "and plus... I feel safer with my own personal doctor here with me" you grinned playfully

"yeah?" he laughed "Well then how could I refuse to help my favorite patient?"

"Favorite?" you gasped, feigning flatter as your right hand went to your heart "You're gonna make me blush doctor"

He snorted at that, his eyes lingering on yours for a second too long.

"Well then, the doctor's ordering bed rest"

You scowled at him, rolling your eyes

"I'm already starting to regret my decision" you muttered, but in no time, you were laid beneath the covers, ready to go to sleep.

"Ok then you're all set, I'll go prep the couch" he said, starting for the door

"what?" you asked

"the couch, I need to-"

You stopped him before he could go on

"You're not sleeping on the couch Pedro" you stated, watching his brows frown "It's uncomfortable as hell" you explained "and there's enough room here for the both of us" Your eyes went to the empty spot beside you

"Oh- no, y/n I can't"

"yes, yes you can" you interrupted him again "And you will" you decided "I'm sick, so that means you have to do whatever I tell you"

"sweetheart..."he sighed, glaring at you

"please" you pouted, "It would make me feel better knowing you're close to me" you pleaded, your best puppy eyes on you.

And what could Pedro do but not agree when you were looking at him like that? He was only a man after all.

"alright" he grumbled, "but I hope you know that means you'll have to hear me snore the whooole night"

But as it turns out, you didn't.

Your fever started going up the moment you shut off the lights, you turned and tossed the whole night, while him... he stayed up with you, checking your fever, giving you medicine and placing wet cold cloths on your forehead, until finally... you started feeling better and began drifting off... if only, of course, those damned church bells hadn't rung.

But even then, Pedro was there, placing his hands on your ears to try and protect you from the noise, and once they stopped, once he had gotten a taste of how good it felt to stay so close to you, well then he didn't have it in him to lean away, so he did the opposite: he put his arm around you and pulled you close, gently whispering "You need to rest", before inevitably, you did as told.

And it was only the morning after that you remembered all of it, it was only once you woke up, his arm still reassuringly around you, his words still reverberating in your ear, that you realized everything.

"good morning" he murmured, his head nestled into your neck

"morning" you smiled, your voice hoarse as you turned around to look at him, finding him but an inch from your face... and yet he didn't lean away.

"thank you" you whispered "for everything"

"darling I'm always gonna be here for you, whatever you need"

You smiled wide, watching his eyes fall to your lips

"stop it" you murmured

"stop what?" he laughed

"being so nice"

"why?" he asked, smiling

You bit your lip, pondering if saying what you wanted to say really was a good idea... but then again, it was the truth, so...

"'cause you're making me want to kiss you"

"'s that right?" he smirked, inching closer

"mh-mh"

"and what's stopping you?"

"I don't want you to get sick" you said, watching him huff a laugh

"sweetheart" he shook his head, grinning brightly "I would catch a thousand colds if it meant I got to kiss you"

And although your heart skipped a beat, you couldn't help but laugh out a quick "that's disgusting", before his lips finally met with yours.

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diejager · 3 months

Note

Tysm for blessing us with puppy girl reader <33

So I diiiiid see that your requests are open so I humbly request (on my knees fr) kitty girl reader head cannons???? Im partial to ghost or 141 but really whatever u want!!!! (muah)

Kitty hybrid!reader Headcanon

Pairing: Task Force 141 x cat hybrid!reader

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON0-CON, hybrid, smut, brat!reader, creampie, training, punishment, tell me if I missed any. We: 1.4k

You were an impulsive act from the team, wanting a little pet that wouldn’t demand too much time and attention, that was a independent pet that would be affectionate enough to pet an play. A puppy would demand to much attention, slobbering and rutting their legs if they had the chance, but a cat, a hissy but sly mess seemed better fit for a family that was always on the move and that would leave for an extended time period on missions, would be the perfect match.

Price made the purchase, but Ghost worked to train you, always the cat person Price knew he was. Ghost picked you up from the pound, a little store for abandoned and forgotten hybrids without a home. That’s where Price decided to find a pet, Ghost was ironically unsurprised, knowing his Captain’s streak of finding strays and feral things. It was a quaint place with warm-coloured walls and a chirpy scenery, everything was simply too calm and too perfect to seem sad and depressed, but he’d seen some hybrids pout and cry in their corners, saddened for being unloved and left to rot alone.

He was expecting something sad or a ball of joy, but he wasn’t that surprised when the cat he went to pick up was a feisty one, glaring and hissing at him despite the neediness and affection you showed him when he scratched your chin. Chalk it up to Price to pick someone as bratty as the others in the team, he certainly had a type for strays. You fought him all the way back, hissing and baring your teeth at him, yet you turned around so quickly when he scratched and pet you in the right places, turning the wild cat into a docile kitty.

You weren’t hard to tame, you were easy to understand and quite the simpleton, simple needs and little expectations. All you needed was a warm bed, a quiet corner and a few spoils to keep you satisfied on the long run, nothing to extravagant or expensive like Ghost was awaiting. Perhaps it was your history of being left behind that made you ask for less, biding your time before you were abandoned again, ripped away from a life of slight luxury.

Now that Ghost had reassured you that this would be your permanent home, telling you to ask for more than the minimum, you truly let go of your apprehension. You were still the feisty, little gremlin they picked up, sly and mischievous, but you were quick to ask for attention, patting Gaz’s knee for kisses, scratching Soap’s leg for treats, crawling over Ghost’s lap for caresses and interrupted Price’s work for a quiet place to nap.

Both Gaz and Soap had a habit of spoiling you more than the others. When you wanted to be spoiled rotten with food, the person you went looking for was Soap, stalking the busy halls for the TF’s rec room, finding Soap lounging on the big couch watching whatever match of football played or movie that streamed. You pawed and meowed at him, forcefully taking your place on his lap and rubbing your face against his stomach.

Soap was a soft and sympathetic owner, easy to bend to your will if you so much as batted your lashes or asked sweetly for a treat. Perhaps it was the way your tail swayed so softly, your ass perked up tantalisingly teasing, that plump ass of yours calling his name to strike it red. Or maybe it’s the way you cry his name, lips pulled into a pout and brows pinched in irritation when you didn’t get what you wanted from Ghost of Price before you ran to him.

When you wanted to be pampered with adoration, you searched for Gaz, calling his name while you walked through the TF’s side, ears perked up to catch any sound or indication that you were on the right path. He was someone you liked to cuddle up to, feeling his hand run through your hair and scratch that itch you couldn’t get at the base of your tail —sensitive, but needed.

Gaz was a rather tender and caring owner, his soft laughter and comforting embrace lulling you to sleep in his lap, tail curled around his calf, arms clinging to his shoulders and face buried under his jaw, nuzzling and breathing in the vanilla and woody scent of his. You would cling onto him for hours on end without letting him move or work, the neglected pet that demanded attention and love. He couldn’t reject you without you pulling a face, teary eyes and flushed cheeks, your ears drooping down and tail depressingly hanging between your legs. And the moment your little fangs poked out from under your lip, biting your bottom one until it threatened to bleed, he’d already agreed to become your bed.

Price was stricter with you than anyone else, more so than Ghost - your handler - was. He had a hard and unmoving hand, mind shielded from your doe eyes and pout, steeled to a T to prevent you from getting your way with him, and his character perfected to accommodate you without spoiling you too much. You were his best girl, but that didn’t mean he’d treat you like a pampered princess, he picked you for your tenacity and feistiness, someone strong and independant.

Yet here you were, clawing and mewling at him, staring at him with teary eyes and a needy whine to have his attention on you. Fortunately, Price was a generous owner, occasionally letting you do as you wished, climbing onto his lap and somehow, you could nap on his lap and not fall off. If he was too busy to indulge you, he’d give you a harsh stare and order you to sleep on his couch where he left his jacket and a few soft blankets for you after he watched you shiver and whimper in your sleep. It stung his heart to watch his precious kitten shake and cry, suffer from his cold, lonely couch, so he got you whatever he thought you needed to feel cozy and comfortable when he was too busy.

When you wanted some quiet, but didn’t want to be alone, you looked out for Ghost, your handler was the calmest of the bunch, a source of peace and solace. If you were bored from bothering Price, tired of Gaz’s petting or full from Soap’s stuffing, you ran to him for sleep, not just a short nap. He was the man you often slept with at night, taking up half his bed and cuddling up to him. He often woke up with your face nuzzled up his neck, nails sunken into his shirt and tail curled around his arm, waist or thigh.

He was kind in his wrong way, letting you go scot free with many mistakes that he would reprimand others for doing: ripping his clothes, staring at his uncovered face, asking for kisses, demanding affection, and taking up his room like you owned it. You’re a little rascal, rubbing your face in all of his stuff and leaving stray furs stuck to his clothes, smothering him with your scent and body, taking up his bed, his sheets and his room as a means of showing off your possession. It amused him, your possessive nature of him and the rest, like the way he collared you in black lace to show people who you belonged to. That pretty neck of yours and the sweet voice that cried whenever he scuffed you too roughly was his.

You were a gem to live with, truly, but when you weren’t, you were a proper brat, one that needed to be punished. Needing a firm hand to put you back in your place with a hard fuck, ignoring your hiss and struggle while he pinned you to the couch. You might whine and fight him, but he knew you liked it - craved it - from the way your little cunt tightened around his cock, milking him dry of all his worth.

You don’t take well to punishment, clawing and biting at them until someone ties you up prettily, leaving you vulnerable and unable to stop him from exacting your lesson. You have to learn one way or another, they can’t leave you spoiled rotten and keep pampering you if you’re a bad pet.

Eventually, you’ll calm down and learn your lesson, tired out by four different cocks, holes filled and stretched out and cunt satiated. You were a cock and cum-drunk pet with your holes leaking cum, rolling down your ass and fur matted from being pulled on so much. You mewled tiredly and let them manhandle you as they saw fit, purring at every little touch of soft affection and easily moved to Ghost’s bed at night.

Hopefully, you’d listen to them when you woke up.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry

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