#and youre like. well how much could a small pillow cost? it’s so small it cannot cost thaaat much

[killaura]

god. I have got to get more throw pillows

[gothcsz]

Motive | Pornstar!Javier Peña x Fem!Reader | Part 3 of Unscripted Desire | ~10k wc | Series Masterlist | gif cred | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: Another chaotic shoot... but at least it's in Malibu?

Tags: more plot keeps sneaking into the porn, angst, frankie has entered the villa, jealous!javi, reader stands on business, it's a porn set other people are also fucking, masturbation on camera (m), dirty talk, lots of cursing (f bombs my beloved), an attempt at a blowjob, javier can't get it up, a dash of misogyny, author projects her ooc thoughts about problematic age gaps in the porn industry, no use of y/n, reader has a degree in film production, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: me nervous that part 3 isn't going to live up to the hype? more likely than you think! 🙂‍↕️ this fic is taking on a brain of its own and i'm just along for the ride, baby! for my just the tip stans— i'm sorry but i'm going to have to edge you until part 4 *crowd boos and i'm dragged off stage* i was going to wait to post this, but i really wanted to get it out because i'm so damn proud of it lowkey, lol, so i hope you all like it 🖤 let a bitch know what ya think! also, shoutout to my pookie @persephone-girl for reading over this 💋 love u mamas

Your phone’s shrill ring pierces through the haze of sleep, and you groan in frustration, burying your face deeper into the pillow.

The comforter is pulled tight over your head, shielding you from the annoyingly bright sunlight filtering through your window. Your hand shoots out, fumbling blindly across the bedside table until your fingers finally close around the receiver. 

“What?” you grumble, voice thick with sleep and muffled beneath your sheets.

“There she is! My beautiful, talented camerawoman. Have I ever told you how much I appreciate what you do?” Robbie’s overly cheerful voice blares through the phone, so you pull it back from your ear slightly, wincing.

“Why are you calling me this early in the morning?” you snap, already regretting picking up.

“Early? It’s almost noon—”

“What do you want, Robbie?” You cut him off, not in the mood for small talk, especially since last night’s bar shift ran past four in the morning. You were hoping to sleep through most of the day, recovering in your bed with no interruptions. Clearly, that plan has gone out the window.

“Look, I’ve got a big shoot happening in Malibu today and I’m short-staffed. I could really use your magic touch behind the camera.”

“No.”

 “C’mon,” he drags the word out, “I’ll make sure you’re well compensated for working on your day off.”

You rub your eyes, the remnants of sleep still clinging to you. “How much?”

He tosses out a number, and despite your best effort to remain indifferent, your eyes widen. Damn. That’s more than decent money.

“Malibu’s all the way across town,” you point out, “I won’t make it there in time if I take the bus. And a taxi? That’ll cost me a fortune.”

“Don’t worry about that. Your ride’s outside waiting for you.”

You blink, confused, and get out of bed, dragging the corded phone with you as you move toward the bay window. You pull the curtain back just enough to peer down at the busy street below.

Sure enough, Steve is there, leaning casually against his Jeep with sunglasses on, a cigarette between his lips. The second he spots you looking down, he grins like the cheshire cat and waves.

“Seriously?” you mutter to Robbie, flipping Steve off with a half-hearted smile. “And what if I’d said no?”

“We both know you wouldn’t have.”

After a few more quick exchanges, you hang up, glancing once more at your ride through the window before turning to rush and get yourself ready for the day ahead.

Truth be told, you’re still not fully awake, your body moving on autopilot as you shuffle through your morning (midday) routine.

It’s been ages since you’ve been to the beach— especially one as nice as Malibu’s. The thought of it softens the blow of losing your rest day. You tell yourself you’ll make the best of it, turning this unexpected workday into something that benefits you, too.

After shooting wraps, you’ll indulge in a quiet evening by the shore, sinking your toes into the warm sand with a good book in hand. No rush to head back. This time, you’ll gladly take a taxi if it means getting some peace seaside.

With that plan in mind, you dress for the day accordingly. Your halter-style bathing suit doubles as a cute top, the color complimenting your skin, while your favorite denim shorts sit comfortably over your bikini bottoms.

You pack a few essentials into your beach bag and make sure to grab your camera bag as well. Once you’ve double-checked that everything’s packed, you make your way downstairs, feeling a bit more awake now.

Steve catches sight of you approaching and flashes a dramatic grin, straightening up like he’s about to chauffeur royalty.

“Your chariot awaits,” he announces with an exaggerated flourish, swinging the passenger door open.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the bemused laugh that escapes your lips. “God, you’re ridiculous,” you mutter, shaking your head as you climb into the seat, tossing your beach bag onto the floor.

He shuts the door behind you with a smirk. “Ridiculous? I prefer charmingly dedicated to my craft.” He hops into the driver’s side, flicking the cigarette away before starting the car.

You snort at his self-satisfaction, leaning back against the seat and putting on the seatbelt. 

“Malibu, huh? How the fuck did he manage to swing that?”

He chuckles, one hand lazily draped over the wheel, the other tapping out a rhythm on his knee. “He didn’t tell me much either— just asked me to stop by and pick you up on my way.”

That makes sense. Robbie’s always been a bit scatterbrained, occasionally running around like he’s managing a multi-million-dollar empire when, in reality, he’s holding it together with duct tape and half-assed enthusiasm.

The drive is surprisingly fun, Steve’s constant jokes keeping your spirits high. He always manages to make you laugh, which is why you tolerate his quirks. 

“I’m pretty sure Javi’s going to be there,” he says, almost too nonchalantly, meaning he’s in the mood to be messy.

You keep your gaze focused on the coastline, watching as palm trees blur past. The wind from the open windows has you squinting momentarily, but it can’t cool the sudden heat spreading through your body. 

“It’s not going to be weird seeing him, right?” He presses and you finally turn to face him, moving your sunglasses to the top of your head.

“Why would it be weird?” you ask, the challenge clear in your voice.

He shoots you a look, brows raised and lips quirked in that irritating way of his. “Oh, I dunno. Maybe ‘cause of the whole flirtin’ with you during the middle of a scene thing? Or, y’know, the elevator incident… which, by the way, what the fuck even happened there?” He glances at you, curiosity practically oozing out of him.

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest defensively, but you can’t stop the way your thighs rub together at the memory. 

Javier’s mouth... God. “None of your damn business.”

“Don’t tell me you fucked him.”

You laugh, loudly, the sound bordering on forced. “Absolutely not.”

He shoots you that okay, sure look, and you groan internally.

Steve’s like a dog with a bone when he gets curious, and you know he’s not going to let this go until you give him something. You sigh, deciding to indulge him— partially. 

“He was being an asshole,” you start, and he immediately interjects with, “Nothing new there,” causing both of you to share a laugh at Javier’s expense.

You shake your head, returning your sunglasses to the bridge of your nose. “No, seriously. He was pushing my buttons, being his usual peacock self. I don’t even know how it escalated, but one moment we’re arguing, and the next... he’s got his tongue in my pussy.”

Steve chokes on his own spit at your bluntness. He’s heard and seen much worse on set, yet your confession has him all tripped up. 

“So, you did fuck him?”

You roll your eyes again, shifting in your seat as the horny flashbacks hit you all at once— Javier’s lips wrapped around your clit, the perfect rhythm of his tongue, his fingers.

You shove those thoughts away, focusing on the road ahead, annoyed at both Javier and Steve now. “Getting head isn’t fucking. It’s, like, third base. And anyway, I made it clear— that’s all he was getting from me. I’m not about to waste my time rolling around in bed with him.”

He gives you a look— a knowing look— and you scoff, shaking your head. “What now?” 

“Nothing. You’re just the first person I’ve heard say that about him.”

“Someone’s gotta humble his ass,” you mutter, though the words feel heavier than they should. You try to act like you’ve put Javier out of your mind, like that moment was nothing but a blip in your life, but deep down, you know it’s not that simple.

You’ve never met anyone like him, and the fact that he can elicit such reactions from you pisses you off so bad.

As the coastline stretches out in front of you, Malibu drawing closer with every mile, you can’t help but wonder if seeing Javier today will be as easy as you’re pretending it will be.

The mansion is far more extravagant than anything you could have imagined. Its grand facade, with towering columns and ivy crawling up the sides, feels like something out of a movie set, and for a second, you almost forget why you’re here.

But then, as soon as you step past the threshold, you hear it— echoing from deep within the house are the unmistakable sounds of exaggerated moans, grunts, and the rhythmic thump of bodies meeting.

You adjust the strap of your camera bag on your shoulder, your beach bag abandoned in Steve’s car. As you step further into the foyer, Robbie appears, that infamous smirk plastered on his face.

“Long way from home, aren’t you, Dorothy?” he jokes, taking in your wide-eyed amusement as you scan the expensive decor— the towering glass chandelier overhead, the marble floors gleaming beneath your feet, the floor-to-ceiling windows.

You can’t help but be a little impressed. 

But of course, he’s there to give you shit about it. You turn your wide-eyed gaze into a glare, bringing your attention to him. “So funny. You should quit your current sleazy day job and take up another sleazy one— stand up,” you reply, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

He just grins, unbothered by your sharp tone. “You’re always a joy to work with. No wonder Javi asked for you specifically.”

Your entire demeanor shifts viscerally and you curse yourself for it mentally, caught completely off guard. “Wait, what? Javier asked for me?”

He shrugs, indifferent to your confusion. “Yeah. He’s set for a solo shoot upstairs in one of the bathrooms before he’s on with...” He snaps his fingers, trying to remember. “...Mariella. Real pretty girl, it’s her first on-camera gig today.”

The world blurs a little as your mind zeroes in on that one bit of information: Javier asked for you. And not just for any shoot— a solo one. You blink, shaking your head to clear the fog. “I’m sorry, can we go back to the part where I was summoned here by someone who isn’t my boss?”

“Oh yeah, he made a real fuss about it. Sent away the other guy we had lined up for the shoot. Told me he wouldn’t do it unless you were behind the camera. Even offered to pay out of his own pocket just to get you here. It’s the only reason we’re paying you as much as I promised over the phone.”

Your stomach twists and you can feel your face settling into a deep frown, the kind that pulls some of your mood down with it. So that’s why he dangled such a big paycheck in front of you this morning.

After the elevator incident (as Steve has so eloquently named it), after the intense heat of his mouth on you, the way he had you— he said he’d leave you alone. He was supposed to respect the boundaries you set, but here he is, yanking you back into his orbit. 

You can already picture him upstairs, lounging in one of those stupidly lavish bathrooms, probably smirking that damn smirk of his, waiting for you.

You try to squash down the way your pulse quickens at the thought, the lingering memory of his fingers digging into your hips, his tongue working between your thighs, is beckoning you into temptation again.

“Fucking great,” you mutter, more to yourself than your boss. You have half a mind to storm up those stairs, find the pornstar, and give him a piece of your mind before marching right back out to spend your day on the beach— free of drama and distractions and him.

But the reality is, you’re being paid nearly three times what you’d normally make on a gig like this. It’s enough to drown out the temptation to walk away, however satisfying that would be.

You’re an adult. You’ve dealt with worse. You can handle this.

Robbie gives you a sidelong glance, clearly sensing your hesitation. “You’re not backing out, are you?”

With a sigh, you force a smile and shake your head. “As good as it’d feel to leave, no, I’m not. I’ll be up in a sec.”

Relief flashes across his face, and he gives you a few pointers before rushing off into this maze of a house.

You linger for a second longer, taking a deep breath to shake off the nerves. Come on. Get it together. After a final mental pep talk, you head toward the grand staircase that winds up to the second floor. 

The sight that greets you at the top of the stairs stops you in your tracks: Lexxie is splayed out on her back atop some console table, currently getting the life fucked out of her. The visual is chaotic but nothing new. You’ve seen it a hundred times before. 

A guy with a scruffy beard and a beat-up baseball cap stands behind the camera, looking more bored than impressed, barely watching as the two stars go at it.

You lean against the nearby railing, your voice cutting through their heavy breaths and grunts. “Guess your marriage to Javier didn’t last very long,” you tease from off camera, referencing the honeymoon shoot.

The star’s eyes snap open at the sound of your voice, and she flashes you a playful, almost sweet smile in between heavy breaths. “Kinda regretting stepping out on him—oh, fuck.” Her snappy comeback dissolves into a breathy moan as the guy currently rearranging her on the table pushes her legs up to her chest, hitting just the right spot. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to ruin your shot,” you say, throwing a glance at the cameraman, knowing how annoying it can be when someone messes with your focus.

He waves it off with a lazy shrug. “It’s not ruined. Honestly, I would’ve quit filming ten minutes ago. It’s starting to drag. I’m impressed they’re still going.”

You let out a small laugh, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, they’ve got stamina like you wouldn’t believe. Makes me feel lazy in bed sometimes, but then I remember how unrealistic this shit actually is.”

He chuckles, scratching at his jaw. “Should make it an Olympic sport. Bet we’d bring home gold.”

“Pretty sure that already exists and it happens in the Olympic Village.” You smirk, finally peeling your eyes away from the couple to look at him properly.

He’s cute in that disheveled, stray-dog kind of way. His curls poke out from under a worn baseball cap, his beard patchy, and his clothes rumpled, like he just rolled out of bed and threw on the first thing he could find. He fits in perfectly with the kind of guys you’d expect on a porn crew.

Earning a genuine laugh from him, he extends a hand. “I’m Frankie.”

You shake it, offering your name in return. “I’m also part of the crew. About to go shoot a scene in the master bathroom.” You explain, noticing how his grip lingers just a little, his smile playful and easy. You feel a bit of warmth rush to your cheeks, and he’s about to say something when—

“Oh fuck, I’m about to cum!” Lexxie’s voice is piercing, loud and breathless, pulling your attention back to the scene.

You shake your head, stifling a laugh. “Well, that’s my cue,” you mutter, stepping out before you get too caught up flirting with him.

“Nice meeting you,” he says before dismounting the camera, moving in closer to capture the so-called money shot.

Cute. Too cute. It’s almost enough to make you forget about the man you’re about to see.

You push open the door to the room Javier’s in, and the sight of him has you doing a double take.

He’s standing in the middle of the room with nothing but a white towel hanging dangerously low on his hips, his defined Adonis belt drawing your eyes in a way you hate to admit.

His toned, brown torso glistens with the thinnest layer of sweat, the sunlight pouring into the room making him look like he’s glowing.

You need to toughen up, and in order to do so, you have to bitch at him. It’s the only way to keep that lustful cavewoman instinct away.

“You’re a piece of work,” is what you settle on, making sure to let your tone really punctuate how annoyed you are by the stunt he pulled today.

The second his eyes lock onto yours, amusement flickers behind them, as if he’s been waiting for this confrontation.

He quirks a brow, lips curving into a lazy smile. “¿De que hablas nena—?”

“What happened to ‘if you don’t want me anymore, I’ll leave you alone’? Was that something you said just to lower my guard? To get me to give you what you want?” You cut him off, keeping your distance even as you notice him inching closer.

Your eyes are daggers as they bore into him, and for a brief second, you hope he feels at least some of the fire burning in your chest. But if he’s affected, he doesn’t show it. He is frustratingly calm, like he’s above it all.

“You gave me no indication that you didn’t want me anymore.” His voice is casual, almost patronizing.

You groan as you throw your hands up in exasperation. “I literally said, ‘Hope you got your fix because it’s never happening again.’ What the fuck else do I have to say or do to get you off my back?”

Silence settles between you two as you stand there staring each other down. He’s unreadable, watching you with an intensity that makes your skin tingle.

“Well?” you demand, impatient.

“In my defense— it didn’t sound very convincing.” You stare at him incredulously before turning on your heel. Hell no. He can keep his money and his bullshit. You’re not doing this.

But just as your fingers graze the doorknob, his voice sharpens with a hint of panic, calling your name.

“Wait, look,” he starts, running a hand through his hair, “I’m not trying to start anything. I just thought—” he pauses, searching for the right words. “I’d feel more comfortable if you were behind the camera during this shoot. Not the other guy Robbie brought in.”

Frankie? He seems so harmless, and besides, Javier’s never had an issue with whoever’s in the room when he’s filming, so why is it a problem now?

However, his tone does sound sincere. You turn to face him again, narrowing your eyes and refusing to let your guard down. “This better not be another one of your tricks, Javier. If you’re doing this to try and get into my pants—”

He almost grins, but catches himself just in time, clearly biting back a remark. You can see it in the way his mouth twitches, and you know exactly what he’s thinking. Already have, his brown eyes seem to say. But he holds his tongue, offering a faint nod instead. 

“I promise. No tricks. Just a professional shoot. That’s it.”

You give him one last warning glance before sighing. “Fine. But I’m telling you, Javier—”

“I know, I know,” he interrupts, holding up his hands. “I get it and please stop calling me Javier.”

You arch a brow. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but everyone calls me Javi.”

Ugh, whatever. “Okay, fine, Javi. Just show me where I’m supposed to set up.” 

He bites back another grin and motions you with a flick of his head, and with the weird tension simmering, you follow him toward the ensuite bathroom. The door creaks open, revealing an elaborate setup, and you pause in the doorway, eyes widening.

It’s surprisingly... beautiful.

In front of a massive window that overlooks the sprawling blue ocean outside, there’s a porcelain clawfoot bathtub filled with what looks like a milk bath. Various colored flower petals float delicately on the surface, scattered in an almost artful arrangement.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Well, damn. This actually looks nice.” This bathroom is bigger than your entire apartment.

Javier notices your reaction and leans against the doorframe to the connecting walk in closet, arms crossed over his bare chest, a smirk playing on his lips. “Catering to the female gaze,” he says with a cocky shrug, “At least, that’s what my agent told me. Seems like I’m very popular among the ladies.”

The way he says it makes you want to smack him upside the head. He’s pushing your buttons again in the most subtle way, and you hate how good he is at it.

“Cute,” you reply dryly, walking past him to set your camera bag down on the large counter.

As you begin to unpack and set up, you can feel his eyes on you, watching your every move, lingering on the exposed skin of your back then dripping down to your legs.

It kind of feels good to have him ogling you like this. The whole look but don’t touch thing is really doing it for you, more than you’d care to admit. There’s a certain power in keeping him wanting, yet also forcing the distance.

“It’s not just about the ladies, you know. I actually want this to be good. I trust you to make it look that way.”

You glance over at him. His playful arrogance has slightly faded, shaded in by the genuine want to make this feel more than just some raunchy scene.

“I’m not a director, I just film it,” you remind him, adjusting the camera lens as you try to play it off. “So just do whatever you think is right. Robbie gave me some pointers, but it wasn’t much.”

“Still,” he presses, “there’s some finesse to what you do.”

At least he’s aware of that. “Let’s just get this over with,” you say, deflecting the compliment.

You finish setting up the camera, adjusting the tripod to get the perfect angle. It’s important to capture the full picturesque scene to begin with— the soft light spilling in through the window, the sparkling blue ocean in the background.

You clear your throat, “Okay, I’m all set for whenever you’re ready.”

Javier moves casually as he unwraps the white towel from around his waist. His cock, already half-hard, demands your attention, but you force yourself to look away. You rub your lips together then lick at them unconsciously, trying to focus on anything other than his naked body.

“Got plans after this?” he asks as though he’s asking you about the weather.

You blink at the normalcy of the question “Just going to hang out by the beach,” you reply plainly, trying to keep your focus on the camera and not on his crotch.

It almost feels strange talking to him like this, without the usual teasing or sexual tension-laden bickering.

“Sounds fun,” he says as he steps into the tub, the water sloshing around him. “Real nice out here. The weather is perfect for it today.”

You watch as he settles in, the milky water rising around his body, and for a moment, you’re completely mesmerized.

The scene in front of you looks like something out of a romantic painting, and it hits you how undeniably beautiful he looks. His skin, a warm golden brown, contrasts perfectly with the creamy white of the bath, and the colorful flower petals floating on the surface make the whole thing look like a dream.

He leans back, the water just kissing his chest, and you catch yourself imagining what a soft, hazy vignette filter would do to the shot, how it would add an enchanting glow to an already intimate scene.

You shake your head slightly, snapping yourself out of the reverie. You’re supposed to be filming him jerking off, not admiring the aesthetics like this is some fine art shoot. But fuck, it’s hard to separate the two when the visuals are this damn good.

Javier, of course, senses your brief distraction. He watches you, eyes thoughtful as he stretches out, letting the water ripple around him. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s a slight smirk playing on his lips, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

You take a deep breath, trying to focus on the task at hand, despite the heat pooling between your thighs. “Is there a clear direction for this scene, or are you just improvising?”

“I’m just winging it,” his voice is a rich, velvet drawl, a little rough from all the smoking he does. “No dirty talk. They want my natural noises to be the main focus… amongst other things.” He cocks his head to the side, one arm coming up to rub at the back of his neck.

Heat blooms low in your belly, shooting straight to your cunt at the sight. The way his bicep flexes, the muscles shifting smoothly beneath that taut, sun-kissed skin, showcasing just how defined he is while still looking so maddeningly soft. 

Calm down, girl, you silently reprimand your pussy. She’s fucking purring right now.

You clear your throat and give him a nod, signaling him to begin. Stepping behind the camera, you focus through the lens, grateful for the distance.

Javier moves slowly. His head tips back against the edge of the tub, eyes falling closed, the soft curve of his lashes fanning out like shadows against his skin. One hand trails down, lingering at the hollow of his collarbones. The movements are unhurried, almost reverent, as though he’s savoring the feel of his own skin.

The intimate build-up draws you in, despite your best efforts to remain detached.

You unmount the camera from its tripod after a few moments, stepping closer to him, framing the shot tight around his chest, the slow glide of his hand along his torso. You can’t help but notice the pounding of your heart, each beat mirroring the steady, throbbing pulse at your clit. 

The sight of him— relaxed, fully in his element, bathed in the soft glow of light— stirs that fucking feeling deep within you.

It’s not just desire, though that’s certainly there. It’s the maddening awareness of how sensual, how magnetic this man is. And even though you try to tell yourself you’d feel the same about any other attractive man in his place, you know that’d be a damn lie.

Javier’s hand moves lower, ghosting over the ridges of his soft stomach. His other hand trails slowly through the water, sending gentle ripples through the milky bath. You swallow hard and focus the lens on his face— the slight parting of his pouty pink lips beneath his trimmed mustache that you just now realize has a small patch right above his cupid’s bow.

Even his imperfections are attractive.

The flushed skin of his cock makes an appearance, his thick, swollen head breaking the surface of the water with each subtle movement, teasing you and the camera. The way it peeks through, the slick tip glistening in the milky bath, almost feels like a taunt— winking at you.

Doing as you’re supposed to, you adjust the lens to zoom in on the way his cock flirts with the surface.

If you were anyone else, one of his usual co-stars maybe, you’d lean down and give it a few kitten licks. You’d tease the sensitive crown with your tongue, circling the tip before letting it slide past your lips— just enough to drive him wild.

Your tongue twitches at the thought.

A soft groan escapes his lips as he gets closer to where he’s aching to touch. It’s as if he can read your mind, as if he knows you’re imagining the feel of his cock in your mouth, the taste of his salty skin, the way he’d twitch against your tongue as you tease him until he begs for more.

Maybe he’s picturing your lips wrapped around him, too.

You bite down on your lower lip, forcing yourself to stay quiet, to stay focused, even though your body is betraying you. The mess in your panties, the way your nipples stiffen beneath your bathing suit top— everything about this moment is dangerous.

Then finally, his fist wraps around his cock, a soft slosh of water accompanying the motion. The eroticism of the scene— paired with the proximity, the memory of those hands on you— ignites that annoying need deep inside.

He strokes himself slowly, eyes still closed as though lost in the pleasure of it all. You focus the camera on his hand, on the way it moves with purpose, his thumb brushing over the head of his cock, slick with precum.

His groans start to fill the air, and your own body reacts, hips shifting slightly as you try to ignore pressure at your cunt.

“Still with me?” His voice cuts through the silence, raspy and knowing, eyes fluttering open to look at you.

Oh. Have they always been this golden?

“Yeah,” you’re proud of yourself for keeping your voice steady.

Javier’s body is pure, unfiltered sin in motion. As you move around the bathtub to capture every angle, you can’t help but admire him. His muscles shift with every slow pump of his hand, the sinewy lines of his arms and torso rippling just beneath the milky water.

His stomach contracts with each exhale, drawing your gaze lower to the faint trail of hair leading down to his cock, which you catch glimpses of when his hips buck up inadvertently.

His breathing grows heavier, his pouty bottom lip caught between his teeth, brows furrowing in concentration as his pleasure builds. It’s mesmerizing, the way his face contorts, his expressions almost too intimate, too personal for the lens. But you can’t tear your eyes— or the camera— away.

His fist moves with such confidence, touching himself with an unhurried rhythm that only a man used to his own pleasure can manage. Every time his thumb glides over the tip of his cock, a heavier grunt rumbles in his throat and it’s so hot.

You’re too focused on capturing every inch of him that it almost catches you off guard when he begins to speak.

“Wish it was your pretty hand around me right now, baby.” His voice is husky, laced with want, and the words hit you like a punch to the gut.

You blink rapidly, heart stalling in your chest as the camera wavers slightly in your hands. “Javier,” you sigh, his name slipping from your lips before you can stop yourself.

“Fuck, I know, but shit—” His words are more ragged now, spoken between heavy breaths. “You’re all I can think about still. You stay in my mind, muñeca. Can’t get you out.”

Even though every rational part of you knows you should stop him, should leave or at least say something to shut him up, you don’t.

You don’t run, you don’t protest. You just... let it happen.

“Talk to me, please.”

“I-I—” The words get stuck in your throat, “I can’t. I’ll ruin the shoot.��� Why is that your priority right now?

“You won’t.”

The way he says it chips at the walls you've built around yourself.

“What do I even say?”

“Anything,” there he goes again, using that tone that makes him sound like he’s begging.

So, you say what you’ve been thinking of since he got into this damn tub. “Your cock is so pretty, Javi.” You purr, throwing all caution to the wind, lying to yourself that this means nothing.

The effect is immediate. He groans, a deep sound from his chest, and his hand moves faster over his shaft, the slickness of the water amplifying the movement. “Fuck,” he says, his breathing now erratic, “say it again.”

Your gaze flicks down and it’s mesmerizing watching the way his body responds to his own touch, but it’s the fact that he’s unraveling in front of you that leaves your mouth dry.

“Such a pretty cock, Javi,” you repeat, voice steadier this time, growing bolder with each passing second. Every flex and contraction of his body feeds the arousal pulsing in you. “I bet it would feel perfect sliding down my throat, hitting the back of it until I’m choking on you.”

All those hours spent listening to cheesy porn dialogue are finally paying off.

His head falls back, exposing the strong column of his neck, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. A guttural groan escapes him as the image of what you just said sets in. His other hand moves down to cup his heavy, swollen balls, the water around him rocking more violently now as he starts to lose himself in the fantasy.

“Shit… I’m close,” he growls, voice breaking with need, the words barely coherent. “Keep talking to me, fuck…”

You lean in slightly, the camera momentarily forgotten. “You want to come for me?” Your whisper is dripping with lust, the idea of him falling apart because of you making your pussy ache. “You want to make a mess? Pretend I’m kneeling right here, my mouth open and waiting for you to fill it, warm and wet just for you?”

You’ve seen him come so many times, watched him fill too many cunts with his spend and paint different parts of their pretty bodies— but none of it compares to the sight before you.

The way his body jerks in response tells you everything you need to know. His grip tightens on the edge of the tub, knuckles going white as he pumps faster, rougher, pushing himself toward the brink. His hips start lifting out of the water with every thrust into his own hand, chasing that final release.

“Fuck, yes…,” he groans, voice strangled, barely holding it together. His eyes squeeze shut, every muscle in his body tensing, going rigid as he falls over the edge.

His bilingual expletives cut off into a long, drawn-out moan as his cock twitches, thick ropes of cum spilling out in messy spurts, splattering against his fist, swirling into the milky bathwater. The petals float lazily across the surface, some clinging to his skin, as the evidence of his release drifts around him.

You stand there, heart pounding, frozen as your brain tries to catch up with your pussy.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, fumbling with the camera as you stop the recording. You quickly move to pack everything up and try your damndest not to look at him.

“Wait, don’t—” Javier’s voice is still hoarse, but there’s a touch of urgency to it now, breaking through the post-orgasm haze. You hear the water sloshing violently behind you as he moves, and you know he’s getting out of the tub. “Just… hang on.”

“No. I-I gotta go,” you stammer, your hands frantically packing up the camera, the lens cap slipping through your fingers. You try to grab it, but your nerves are shot and it fumbles. Thankfully, it doesn’t take damage. You’d hate to hear Robbie bitch at you for breaking the brand-new camera.

Just get out of here is the only thought running through your mind. Every time you’re around him lately, you end up a confused, horny, exasperated mess, and you can’t handle it anymore.

“Hey—wait!” Javier slips as he tries to step out of the tub, nearly falling as he reaches for you, his wet feet squeaking against the floor. You turn just in time to see him catch himself, water dripping from his body, his skin still flushed from what just happened.

“What the hell?” You shoot him a look, “You’re gonna break your neck trying to stop me from leaving—”

“I wasn’t—fuck, just let me talk for a second.” He runs a hand through his soaked hair, water dripping down his neck, over the curve of his shoulders, and you hate how even now, you’re distracted by how good he looks. He reaches for the towel and loosely wraps it around his waist. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Neither did I,” you snap, stuffing your gear into your bag, not caring how haphazardly it’s packed. “This— this isn’t what I signed up for. I’m here to work, remember? Not… whatever the fuck that was.”

He steps closer, reaching for your arm, but you yank it away before he can touch you. The last thing you need is his hands on you right now, reminding you of everything you shouldn’t want.

“You think I don’t know that?” His voice softens, but there’s a frustration beneath it, like he’s grappling with the same confusion you are. “I wasn’t trying to mess with you, okay? I just… I don’t know what the hell is happening between us either.”

You stop, finally meeting his gaze. There’s something in his eyes that pulls at the part of you that’s freakishly tethered to him, but you can’t let that get to you now. Not when everything feels so damn complicated.

“Javier, this—” You struggle for words, shaking your head. “This can’t keep happening. I can’t—” You pause, your breath catching. I can’t have you. “I don’t want you,” you correct yourself.

His jaw clenches, muscles ticking under the strain. “Stop bullshitting me,” he growls, eyes narrowing.

“I’m not,” you shoot back, but it comes out too quickly, too rehearsed.

“You’re lying through your fuckin’ teeth, and it’s pathetic. What is so wrong with giving me a chance?” He keeps circling back to this— chances.

One thing about him, he knows how to trigger a fucking migraine. 

“Everything!” The word bursts out of you like a confession. “Everything about this is wrong. It’s why I’ve been trying to stay away since day one, but you’re so— ugh!” You throw your hands up, exasperated, the bathroom suddenly feeling too small and claustrophobic. He’s got you spinning in circles, tying you up in knots, and you can’t think straight around him.

Without a second thought, you turn to leave, your feet moving as if you’re fucking levitating. So what if you’ve made a habit of running away from him? You don’t owe him shit.

“Nena—” Desperation laces his voice and that stupid nickname makes your skin curl. “I don’t want you to leave like this.”

“Well, too bad,” you snap over your shoulder. “I’m leaving so you can’t sweet-talk me into anything.” The slam of the door echoes behind you, a final punctuation to your statement.

As you step out into the hallway, the distant sounds of people fucking filter through the air, kind of grounding you back to the real world.

You can’t keep working with him, not if every interaction is going to end like this. You make a mental note to talk to Robbie after today’s shoot. No more Peña.

The day drags on, the tension from earlier still lingering, but now, sitting outside on the shaded patio, you feel a small reprieve.

A half-eaten sandwich rests before you on the table, your eyes lazily tracing the lines of the zero-edge pool that blends into the horizon. The soft rustle of palm trees swaying in the gentle breeze lulls you into a sense of temporary peace. You glance around, taking in the pristine luxury surrounding you. Rich people really have it made, you think, marveling at the extravagance of someone else’s life.

The spat with Javier lingers but you’ve done your best to ignore it by keeping busy. The other shoots happening in the house have kept you distracted, but you know what’s coming: the last scene of the day— with him— and the new girl, Mariella. A small sigh escapes your lips as you sink deeper into the patio chair, absolutely dreading it.

Your tranquility is shattered when you feel a presence nearby. Already anticipating another confrontation with Javier, you steel yourself and don’t even bother looking up before snapping, “Oh my god, can you just leave me alone—”

The words get jammed in your throat as your eyes land on Frankie, not Javier. He stands there, looking taken aback, a paper bag in one hand and an awkward smile tugging at his lips. You instantly feel like a bitch.

“Shit— sorry,” you stammer, cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I thought you were someone else.”

Frankie lets out a small chuckle, brown eyes softening as he rubs the back of his neck. “No worries, I can leave if you want—”

“No, no,” you say quickly, waving him off. “Please, stay. I didn’t mean to be snappy.”

He hesitates for a moment before motioning to the empty chair across from you. “Mind if I sit?”

You shake your head, and he lowers himself into the seat, setting his lunch down. The small talk starts easily, flowing naturally as you both munch on your food. He tells you about his daughter, a proud smile on his face as he recounts how she’s the light of his life. Then he goes on about how his friends call him Catfish because of some dumb inside joke, and also the fact that he’s a retired pilot. It somehow doesn’t surprise you— the career fits him.

“How do you go from flying helicopters to shooting porn?” you ask, the question half serious, half teasing as you lean back in your chair, eyes hidden behind your sunglasses.

Frankie raises an eyebrow and smirks, clearly amused. “Shit happens,” he says with a shrug. “How do you go from having a film production degree to spending your days staring at tits and ass?”

A wry smile tugs at your lips. You tilt your head, pausing for effect. “... Shit happens,” you echo, the irony not lost on either of you.

He snorts, taking a slow sip of his water, the sound of his laughter rolling into the lazy afternoon air. You can’t help but steal a glance from behind your shades, your gaze wandering over his rugged features.

There’s something about the way the sun hits him just right, casting a golden glow over his tanned skin. You swallow, feeling a subtle pull in your chest, an unexpected attraction. He’s not flashy, not like the other guys you’re used to working with— there’s an unspoken confidence in his ease, a solidness that makes you want to keep looking.

“So… who’d you think I was? Just then?” He asks, adjusting his cap.

You try not to let your small smile falter. “Oh, just an annoying coworker.”

“Ah, the kind who shows up at the worst times, huh?”

“Exactly,” you reply with a laugh, “You know the type.”

Frankie leans in just slightly, lowering his voice. “Well, I’m glad I’m not that guy.” There’s a flicker of flirtation in his tone, his eyes lingering a beat too long. “But if you ever need someone to… keep him under control, you just let me know. Got the remedy for that right here.” 

He exaggeratedly flexes his biceps, and the snug t-shirt he’s wearing pulls taut around his arms, highlighting their impressive size.

You can’t help but admire the view— he’s really fun to look at, all charming smiles and playful confidence.

“I might just take you up on that, actually,” you reply, matching his energy with a teasing smile of your own. “I could definitely use someone who knows how to handle things.”

He raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his pink lips. “I’m more than equipped for that, trust me.”

For a second, it feels like the two of you are in your own little world— until, of course, it comes crashing down.

A voice cuts through the moment like a knife. “We’re ready for the last scene.”

You turn to see Javier standing there, arms crossed, jaw tight, his gaze flicking between you and Frankie. His entire posture screams annoyance.

“And who are you?” Frankie retorts, squinting one eye against the harsh sunlight, playful defiance dancing in his tone.

Javier doesn’t seem to like that response at all. “I’m ready to get this shit done with,” he snaps, and you narrow your eyes, practically shooting daggers at him.

Frankie clears his throat, sizing up Javier’s bristling energy. “Right.”

You catch the word presumido slip from his lips— the Spanish insult that has you exhaling a light laugh through your nose, because he’s so spot on and he doesn’t even know it.

Both of you stand, Frankie gathering the remnants of your lunch. “If you’d like some company down by the beach later, I’ll still be around,” he adds smoothly, sliding the proposition in there as casually as if he were just suggesting grabbing coffee. You almost don’t mind him crashing your solo date.

“I’ll let you know,” you reply, pushing your chair in. “It would be great to not have to take the taxi back, but I was willing to do it for a nice afternoon by the water.” You can feel Javier’s possessive stare burning into you from across the way.

Frankie, absolutely unbothered, leans in closer, a charming grin on his face. “Here’s my number if you need that ride.” A pen appears out of nowhere, and he scribbles down his digits on a clean corner of his napkin, tearing it off with an effortless confidence before handing it to you.

“Definitely,” you say with a flirty smile, tucking the napkin into your pocket, feeling a thrill against the scowling presence of the spectator watching from the sliding glass door 

Frankie branches off to use the restroom and you push past Javier, no intention of speaking to him until—

“If you spent less time flirting with the crew and more time focusing on your job, we’d be finished by now.”

You can practically taste his jealousy.

You stop in your tracks, turning to face him, your patience running thin. “Really, Javi? You’re jealous of Frankie? That’s what this is about? Did our last conversation not put shit in perspective for you?”

He steps closer, eyes hard, voice low. “Jealous? Of him?” He scoffs, but the tension in his jaw betrays him. “I just don’t appreciate having to wait because you’re too busy cozying up to someone else. Especially someone who looks like they just got picked up off the side of the road.”

“And you wonder why I don’t like you.” Is all you can say, brushing past him yet again, his presence looming heavy as you head toward the living room where the last scene is set to be shot.

The moment Robbie goes on with his usual pre-shoot rundown, your attention shifts to the newbie Mariella immediately, drowning out his usual spiel.

The girl— and she is a girl, no matter what the paperwork says— looks painfully young. Her cropped tee hugging her braless chest, barely keeping her breasts from spilling out, and those flimsy pajama shorts riding high on her thighs. It’s the kind of outfit that makes you uneasy— one you’ve seen too many times in this industry, designed to play into the fantasies of men who want their women to look barely legal.

You bite the inside of your cheek, the sour taste of frustration building in the back of your throat. This is the part of the job that gnaws at you— the undercurrent of exploitation that no one acknowledges.

You’re not naive, you know exactly what sells in porn. You know what these people want to watch, what they get off on. The younger, the better. 

Still, it doesn’t make it any easier to stomach when you’re standing on set, watching it play out in real time.

Just as Mariella positions herself, preparing for the camera to roll, you can’t stop yourself. The words come out before you can think to censor them. “How old are you?”

Suddenly, everyone’s attention shifts to you. Robbie. Steve. Frankie. Even Javier, who’s lounging in the corner, waiting for his moment to shine. They all freeze, the casual banter dying off as your question lingers in the air. Mariella blinks, looking around as if unsure who you’re even talking to.

“I—I turned twenty last week.”

Your expression hardens, and the disapproval is written all over your face. “She’s not even old enough to drink, and you’re having her fuck Javier?” Your eyes cut to Robbie, who’s staring at you like you’ve just sprouted another head.

The silence stretches for a beat too long before he scoffs, shaking his head like you’re being ridiculous. “I don’t pay you to hear your opinions on shit,” he snaps, clearly irritated. “Just sit there and record the damn thing.”

Your eyes roll hard enough that it almost hurts. “You’re all a bunch of perverts.”

Poor Frankie catches a stray with that one. It’s like everything is grating on you in ways it usually doesn’t. Normally, you can shove it down and keep your head low because, at the end of the day, you’re just here for the paycheck.

“Perverts pay your bills, sweetheart,” Robbie throws back, all nonchalant. What’s worse is that he’s right.

Moments like this make you wonder how long you can keep doing this without losing a part of yourself in the process.

You look around at the other three men, none of them stepping up to say anything in your defense. Useless.

You shouldn’t be surprised, but it stings. Even Javier, usually quick with a sarcastic quip or biting comment, says nothing. He just sits there, stuffing out a cigarette that’s magically appeared between his lips.

It feels like a betrayal, even though you know better than to expect any different.

And Mariella? She’s clearly distracted, caught up in the magnetic pull Javier has over people. The way she’s looking at him with that starstruck, wide-eyed awe only makes it worse. You can see it in her expression, the way her gaze flickers over him like she’s already imagining how it’s going to feel when he fucks her. Thinking with her pussy instead of having common sense.

You recognize it because you were just in her exact position, drawn into that same orbit. You find empathy for her, but not the other motherfuckers.

The room descends into awkward silence, as if everyone’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. But you’re not in the mood for a full-blown argument, so you shut down, slumping into the chair behind your camera with your arms crossed tightly over your chest. 

You know it’s only a matter of time before all these feelings you’ve been aggressively pushing down come back up and make you snap, but for now, you continue to force it all away.

You’re assigned to shoot the stoic, wide shots while Frankie’s in charge of the close-ups, and honestly? You’re relieved. The last thing you need is to be up close, watching this trash unfold.

The scene starts with the typical, raunchy premise: Dad pays babysitter with his cock! It explains Mariella’s barely-there outfit and the cluttered coffee table with school notebooks, setting the scene.

Then there’s Javier who looks the part too; dressed in dark blue slacks, a typical white collared shirt with a few buttons popped open to give that I’m stressed, come take care of me vibe.

He’s the picture of temptation, and it’s obvious Mariella’s already in the clouds.

The filming begins and they share that cheesy, erotic dialogue and lustful touches. You feel yourself sink further into the chair, silently counting down the minutes until you’re decompressing by the beach.

She sinks to her knees before him, her doe eyes looking up at him with that practiced innocence they all seem to perfect so quickly. She reaches for the buttons on his slacks, her delicate fingers fumbling just a little before she pulls down the zipper and tugs at the waistband. She nuzzles her face against his thigh, brushing her lips against his skin, and finally pulls out his cock. Even soft, it’s still an impressive size— but it’s definitely not how this was supposed to go.

“Well, are you going to suck it or just stare at it?” Javier snaps, his tone cutting through the air with an edge that feels too sharp, too real. It doesn’t sound like the crudeness that’s meant to spice up the scene.

His hand shoots out and tangles in her hair, yanking her closer. He’s rougher than usual, harsher, as he forces her mouth onto him.

She wraps her lips around his head, suckling softly at first, then taking him deeper into her mouth. She’s trying to do her job, playing the part of the eager babysitter, but something’s off.

Javier’s head tilts back, eyes squeezed shut, but it’s not the usual look of pleasure that crosses his face. It’s more like he’s concentrating, forcing himself to feel something that isn’t there.

You can’t help it— your eyes flick around the room, looking at the rest of the crew. No one seems to be noticing what you’re seeing, their eyes all honed in on the action in front of them.

But you’re catching the small details like you always do.

After a few more moments, it’s clear that it’s not happening. Javier lets out a frustrated curse, pulling out of her mouth with an audible, wet pop. “Fuck—just, give me a second,” he grumbles, stepping back. Mariella wipes the saliva from her lips with the back of her hand, looking up at him with a mix of confusion and hesitation.

You take that as your cue. Reaching over, you stop the recording, your finger hesitating on the button for only a moment before pressing it. Frankie does the same, Steve lowers his mic and pulls his headset off.

Javier runs a hand through his hair, his eyes darting to the floor, like he’s trying to avoid looking at anyone directly. “I just need a minute,” he says again, but it’s more to himself than to anyone else.

Your gaze lingers on him for a second longer than you intend, and your mind flashes back to earlier, to the way he was with you. The memory is sharp and clear, the contrast striking. He’d come undone for you without hesitation, without needing any coaxing or forcing. Just words. But now, with Mariella kneeling in front of him, offering herself up like a gift, he’s struggling. 

“How long will this minute take? We gotta be outta here soon so get it up before I get one of these two to take your place.”

Javier scoffs, dismissive, “Tape wouldn’t fucking sell.”

“Well one featuring a soft dick won’t either,” comes the retort, and the two of them start their back-and-forth bickering.

You rub at your temples, trying to ease the pressure building behind your eyes. This has to be some weird-ass dream; it sure as hell feels like it. Maybe you’re still in bed, blissfully sleeping until three in the afternoon.

Javier storms off and Steve puts his equipment down. “I’ll go talk to him.”

Robbie just waves him away. “Take five,” he mutters to the rest of you, going in the opposite direction. This is such a mess, and poor Mariella remains on her knees, picking at her cuticles. 

“Please get up and sit on the couch. You look pathetic,” you say to her, not cruelly but bluntly. It’s not her fault, but the sight of her there is making you itch. She complies like a chastised child. 

Frankie drops down beside you, letting out a breath that mirrors your own. “These things usually go like this?” He takes his hat off, ruffling his hair before putting it back on.

“No,” shit has just been weird amongst this group for weeks now. “Burnout is inevitable, I guess.” You’re not about to sit there and shit-talk Javier, despite everything. You might have a mountain of complicated feelings when it comes to him, but you won’t kick him while he’s down.

Before Frankie can respond, Robbie comes barreling back into the room, his face flushed with anger. His eyes lock onto you, and you can see the accusation in them before he even opens his mouth.

“This is your fault,” he spits out, voice sharp, acidic. “All that shit you were talking earlier— now he’s fucking broken.”

You narrow your eyes, standing your ground. “Excuse me?” you snap, incredulous. “I was making a valid point. How the hell is it my fault that he grew a conscience?”

“Y’know,” he starts, his words dripping with the kind of vile, misogynistic shit that makes your blood boil. “You’d do me more good in front of the camera. Have somethin’ shoved up in there to keep you fucking quiet.”

The reaction is immediate. You shoot up from your seat so fast the chair scrapes against the floor, the sound sharp and angry, mirroring how you feel. “What the fuck did you just say?”

Frankie stands too, his face hardening as he takes a step in front of you, finally coming to your defense. “Watch it,”  he warns, and it feels like the whole situation could explode into something much worse.

Robbie, of course, just sneers “What? You gonna defend her? She’s been a pain in my ass for weeks—”

“I’m done.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can think them through, but they feel right. 

You’re tired— so damn tired— of this whole mess. Of dealing with assholes like Robbie and Javier who think they can get away with saying whatever they want. “I quit.” 

Your boss’s mouth opens as if he’s about to say something else, but you cut him off with a cutting glare. “I’m not going to sit here and listen to you treat me like shit because your precious Javier can’t get his dick hard. Go fuck yourself, Robbie.”

You don’t wait for a response. You turn on your heel and head for the door, your heart pounding in your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You’ll double up on shifts at the bar or go back to waiting tables like you did throughout college. Whatever keeps you away from this bullshit. 

As you stride down the hallway toward the entrance, you pass Javier and Steve. Javier’s face is stormy, brows knitted together as if he’s still reeling from whatever heated discussion they just had. 

The moment he spots you, his expression shifts. There’s a flicker of surprise, maybe even concern.

“Where are you going?” Steve asks.

You yank the heavy, probably expensive for no reason, front door open, the sound echoing through the hallway. “I just quit,” you snap, voice sharp as glass. “See you never.”

🏷️ : @almostempty . @auteurdelabre . @libre-sol . @cherrysugarx . @goodvibesonly421 .

finally started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out. muchas gracias mis putitas (gn) (endearingly) 🖤

[thebluester2020]

[RE4] Kinktober Day 11: "In Heat"

Summary: Livestock guardians were rare enough, and training them was no easy feat either. But...being in a bind, you decided to take your chances and adopt one! Only, you weren't warned that his heats would be so...intense.

Warning(s): Perv!Reader (She watches Leon fuck his pillow), Yearning(Leon wishes to fuck the reader but doesn't), Dog!Hyrbid Leon, Whiny! Leon, Begging, Masturbation (Both on the reader's and Leon's side obv), Thigh-fucking, Leon low-key being a horn dog.

Side Note(s): Lol I was going to do Lycaon (again) from ZZZ but— the fact I haven't dedicated any Kinktober days to my favorite baddie Leon Kennedy yet is blasphemous, so here I am <33

Searching for a good livestock guardian dog was hard.

Costs aside, training them and getting them used to the farm animals was no easy task. It took a lot of patience and practice over the years and even then? The dog wasn't promised to be absolutely perfect! In hindsight though, you knew you should've been on the lookout the second you had begun buying the necessary resources for your farm. After all, it seemed like just yesterday when you were still waiting for your house to be built, and now? You were only a month away from moving!

The clock was ticking, you needed a guardian dog and you needed one now. No training required.

Which was how you ended up where you are today, at a dog hybrid adoption center, located in the center of your small town. It was a homey place, plenty of space for the hybrids to wander around, and even a dedicated meeting area for them and their potential owners to get to know one another. At first, you felt almost...strange, for considering a hybrid for your farm.

They were called "hybrids" for a reason. They were human but...with animal features and some tendencies here and there, you probably wouldn't even have been here today if your friend hadn't convinced you to at least check it out and so far? You were having no more luck than you were shopping the market for a traditional dog.

"Do you have any hybrids that are good with livestock? Guarding, maybe?" You asked the front desk worker after another conversation with a hybrid cut short.

You weren't searching for a puppy, they had too much energy and you were certain that wouldn't bode well with the animals! An older dog would have been preferable. "Still no luck?" The woman said with an apologetic smile as she searched through the system.

You shook your head with a sigh. "I'm moving in a month, I want to hopefully find a dog today and bring him home soon so I can get him or her used to me."

The woman didn't respond for a beat or two, her eyes narrowed in focus as she searched and searched...until her eyes brightened and she turned the computer screen towards you. "Leon may be a good fit for you! His background is in government, very calm and dependable." As you looked at the picture, you were shocked that no one had picked him yet. good traits aside, he was handsome and you knew that there was a market for people who preferred to use their hybrids for lovers rather than pets.

Not that you planned to use him in that way of course.

"Is he available to talk now?" You asked.

"He will be tomorrow! We try to give our shyer residents more time to know when they want to be spoken to."

You nodded your head in understanding as the worker passed you a few documents to sign as well as choosing a time when you wanted to talk. You suddenly felt nervous, intimidated even! When you looked at Leon Kennedy's profile, he appeared dangerous and you weren't just talking about the deadly scowl on his face nor the fact that he was a Malinois hybrid. His eyes were a deep baby blue, combined with his dirty blonde hair and his hardened features as well as his muscular frame.

You weren't able to deny that he was handsome.

But...you could worry about keeping your mind out of the gutter once you talked with him.

. . .

The next day came by quick. The second you woke up, you were already getting ready to meet with your potential hybrid and you wanted to make a good first impression! You donned a cute but professional style and even took the time to bring gifts as well as had photos of your current apartment and new home already saved to your phone. You wanted to make sure all your cards lined up to having Leon accept you as his owner.

And...you thought you were doing good so far, hopefully. As you currently sat in front of him, his expression was unreadable as his eyes flicked from the photos of your home that you had given him as well as the treat basket you brought along with you.

"You want me as a livestock guardian?" He questioned.

"Yes!" You chirped. "The animals aren't there yet but they will be pretty soon, about a week or two after I move in."

When he didn't respond, you added on a question. "Are you...good with livestock?"

He slowly nodded his head. "I can learn, it can't be any harder than guarding people."

"Your profile mentioned you were in the government. What did you do?"

"Classified missions." He curtly responded.

"...Like?"

He scoffed at your pushiness. "The word classified is there for a reason."

"Seeing as you're still so loyal, you must've been a good one." You complimented. You tried to withhold a chuckle at the sound of Leon's tail thumping against his chair. "Why did you leave?"

"I—" You tilted your head when he paused, the sight of his cheeks beginning to tint pink a little also making your suspicions go up before his shoulders eventually slumped and he sighed. "It's not important, I was simply no longer fit for the missions they were assigning me." His ears flattened at the memory of him being dismissed. For the last few years since that day, he tried to convince himself that it was for the best but...he was used to being active, constantly on the move and doing things. Trading that lifestyle for a quiet and inactive one here in the shelter?

Although the place was nice, it wasn't for him!

Life on a farm could give him some movement, some purpose again.

"Well, I think you'll be a perfect fit for my farm! If you want to actually come with me that is."

Leon looked you up and down, you appeared hard-working and stern. But kind and gentle, it also helped that you were a pretty thing to look at. After being in the government for so long, so many missions where he'd seen the most unimaginable horrors that no normal person should ever see...it was nice to know that he'd be able to look at you all day, working for you.

So, he nodded his head, his tail once again beginning to wag at the sight of your smile.

You grinned. "We'll get along just fine, you and me!"

. . .

And get along fine, the both of you did.

It turns out that there was a reason why Leon wasn't adopted. His ruts were insatiable.

A week after adopting him, you and he had spent the entire time decorating the room you had dedicated to him! You had learned that before he worked for the government, he used to be a guard cop (the puppy photos he had shown you were absolutely adorable might you add) and he was a fan of old-school music groups. You had struck gold with him, you thought. He was a hard worker and was relatively quiet! Although his jokes were a little dry and he had so many cop one-liners that you couldn't even begin to count them all.

You liked Leon.

And that like towards him...you wouldn't deny that it began to inch towards a more romantic direction, especially after what you were currently witnessing tonight.

"F-Fuck..." Through the crack of Leon's door, he was currently rutting against his pillow feverishly. It was bunched up underneath him, his claws threatening to tear the sheets underneath him with how hard he was rutting his dick back and forth on the pillow.

You should've turned away, you should've ignored that ache that started to build up in the pit of your stomach. It was inappropriate of you to watch him like some type of pervert! And you almost did until...you heard your name. "Y-Y/N..." Leon panted out, you could see the light of the moon shine on the hint of drool that began to dribble out the side of his mouth. He sucked in his bottom lip as he threw his head back with a low growl. "Fucking cute owner..." He whined. "I-If only you would help me..." His words were so whispered that you almost missed it.

The ache in your panties was growing near unbearable, and even as every rational part of your brain told you to keep your hand away from your throbbing clit, to go back to bed and act like you hadn't seen or heard anything. You continued to stay, soon clasping a hand around your mouth in order to withhold the moan that threatened to escape from your lips. Especially as your fingers began to circle around your clit, the aching growing more and more by the second as you continued to listen in on Leon's moans.

"Fucking hell—" Suddenly Leon pushed the pillow away from him before he sat on the bed, his hand quickly rushing to his cock as he started to fist his length, the slick sounds of his hand moving along his cock aiding in your own masturbation as you began to finger yourself to the pace of his hand movements.

And in the process, you imagined what his cock would feel like inside your sex. You imagined the veins along his cock rubbing against your inner walls, the sound of his rough growls against your ear whilst the lewd sounds of his pelvis meeting your ass rang throughout the air. "Y' like that owner?" You heard Leon mutter to himself before his curses steadily turned into moans.

You could tell he was close by the way he began to buck into his own hand, causing you to speed up your own ministrations as it quickly became a struggle to withhold your moans. Until a squeak accidentally escaped your lips, and Leon's ear flicked to the door before his pants began to slowly come to a stop.

Yet his hand didn't. "Naughty girl..." Leon said in your direction.

You quickly tore your hand from your underwear with a gasp, but before you could walk away. Leon stopped you with a sharp growl. "Leaving so soon after watching me fuck my own hand? And while you were flicking your clit." He snapped. "Get in here and help me out!" He ordered.

You hesitated for another moment or two before you slowly inched the door open with an embarrassed blush on your face. However, your hybrid had little concern for your embarrassment at the moment before he suddenly rose to his feet and grabbed ahold of your arm, and forced you to sit on the bed. His eyes were trained on you as he then pushed you gently to lay on your back whilst he lifted your legs.

You softly moaned at the feeling of his hard cock pressing against your ass briefly before he took your chin into his hand. "...Can I?"

You heard the desperation in his voice and how hard he was trying to reel it in. "I just wanna fuck your thighs, promise. Nothing else, just that." He assured you, his hips unconsciously bucking against the back of your thighs. And the second you nodded your head "yes", he let out a deep moan when he finally pushed himself between your plush thighs. "Been thinkin' 'bout this for a week..." He began to babble.

"You and this sexy body," He moaned. "Made my rut come early..." You whined when his hand began to feel up and down your body, all before his hand began to rub at your clit. "Clearly you've been thinkin' about me too, huh?"

You nodded shamelessly. "T-Tried not to..." You admitted with a whisper. "Didn't—oh...—want to make you uncomfortable..."

"With having a slutty owner who likes the idea of her personal dog fucking her needy cunt? Oh no baby, quite the opposite..." Then he leaned down to press his soft lips against your own, the feeling of your lips on his own after so many previous nights of imagining them on his cock...he couldn't help but begin to fuck your thighs with more fervor. "Couldn't get you out of my mind." He mumbled against your lips.

Leon's other large hand then left your waist to begin fondling your breasts, taking more care to give one of them more attention than the other as he began to flick your nipple. Leon's body was practically molding with your own body as he continued to kiss you, his technique becoming more sloppy along with his thrusts. "C-Close..." He whispered, tearing his lips from your own when you lightly smacked him for air.

You moaned. "M-Me too." You responded, a needy whine leaving your lips when he began to speed up his rapid flicking of your clit. Your increased moans and whines were going straight to his cock, nothing but lust and adoration for you as both his owner and the woman he now wanted to breed coursing through his veins as he felt your pussy twitch as his cock rubbed against it. "Cumming!" You just barely managed to get out before your eyes slammed shut and your mouth opened in a silent scream.

Leon wasn't too far behind as a string of curses fell from his lips, his hips bucking against your ass a few more times before he stilled and you felt strings of his hot cum shoot out and onto your stomach and chest. The two of you breathed heavily, the lust in the air hot and unignorable as you both came down from your highs. With a shakey moan, however, Leon slipped from your thighs as he looked over you.

Already he could feel himself getting hard. Something that you quickly took notice of. "A-Already...?" You said tiredly.

He nodded his head, his tail beginning to wag eagerly as he gently began to part your legs. "You're the reason why my rut started early...take responsibility."

It seemed you were in for an even longer night further taking care of your new hybrid...

[dilf-rot]

Roadkill

Old! Logan gets hit by a car right outside your apartment, and since his healing isn’t as fast as it use to be he begrudgingly agrees to let you take care of him for the time being 

Word Count: 3009 

Tags: Old!Logan x Reader, Logan Howlett x Reader, Wolverine x Reader, Fem!Reader, age gap (obviously), kinda pervy logan, blood, description of injuries / mild gore, Car accident, wound dressing, alcohol consumption, bed sharing, P in V, Fingering, Some dirty talk, creampie 

AN: Okay so I did a poll about what you guys would want next, and a "Funny Old Logan" fic won... so like the concept is the funny part (at least to me), But I tried to make it rather light hearted because I hope it wasn’t a misleading poll choice. Maybe the length of it will make you forgive me for my poor sense of humor 

MDNI 18+

—--------------------------------------

It was rather late at night, your street barely illuminated by the poorly maintained street lamps. You sat by your window, watching the empty street. The autumn air wispy through the trees, dead leaves skittering across the concrete. You liked looking outside at this time of night, reminding yourself of how quiet and peaceful things can be. 

An older man was walking along the edge of the sidewalk, his head hung down, his gait slow and particular. You were surprised to see someone out walking at this time, but thought it not too unusual. As he began to walk along the curve of the road, as if materializing from thin air, a black vehicle sped around the curve, colliding with the man and sending him falling over into the pavement, the screech of tires, the sound of impact. You could hardly think as you rushed down the stairs and out the door. 

The vehicle had disappeared much like it had appeared, and the man lay unmoving on the cold concrete. There was a small puddle of blood forming beneath him. 

“Are you alright? I’ll call 911.” You shouted as you approached him, holding out your hand.

“Don’t,” He groaned, pushing himself over so that he was laid on his back. The blood was seeping through his shirt around his abdomen, but it seemed not to bother him. “I’ll just be on my way.” 

He breathed heavily, trying to stand from the ground. Cursing to himself. He couldn’t seem to sit up.

“Here, let me help you.” You leaned down and helped him to his feet. He winced in pain as he tried to stand up straight. Looking at you in a peculiar way, as if he had never expected kindness from a stranger. You were young, and bright, and despite the suddenness and seeming severity of his situation, came rushing in to help. Great contrast to his old, dark, and brooding disposition. “Are you sure you don’t want 911? If your worried about ambulance costs I could always drive you to the hospital.”

He tried to laugh, but ended up coughing and a splatter of blood spewed from his mouth. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. Just need some rest.”

“Why don’t you come inside, I’ll help you,” You gestured towards your building, the window of your apartment the only one light up in the night.

“Really, it’s no big deal-” He started, only for a little more blood to dribble from his mouth, he wiped it away with his hand and before he could protest any further, you slowly led him up to your apartment. Careful not to take the stairs too fast, or pull too hard on his arms. 

Despite his current state, he was rather well built. You could feel the lines and curves of muscle under his jacket as his arm rested across your shoulders. His face wasn’t all that bad either, minus the blood staining his graying beard, he was rather handsome and you suddenly felt rather embarrassed by your choice of bringing him into your home. 

You brought him inside, and helped him sit down in the living room. Tossing the decorative pillow off of the chair so that he may lean back comfortably. He looked around your apartment, it was nicely decorated, a little girly, but not too extreme, and there were some pumpkin and mushroom themed items here and there for the fall season. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Listening to you frantically search your cabinets for first aid materials. 

When the searching had stopped you managed to find a first aid kit, a washcloth, and some pain meds. 

“Can we take off your shirt and jacket so I can see the damage?” You once again held out your hands to him. He grumbled and nodded, helping you remove them. The fabric luckily wasn't sticking to the wounds, despite being drenched in blood. “I’ll wash them for you.” 

He watched your face as you took in the sight of him. He was much more in shape than you would expect for an older man, not that you could guess how old he was, but he seemed to be the active kind based on his physique. You shakily reached out with the washcloth, gently dapping away the drying blood, trying to get a better look at the wounds. They didn’t seem too deep, but the lacerations and road burn were rather gruesome. You decided it would be best to apply some antibacterial and wrap them in gauze. You were worried that you wouldn’t have enough, but as you wrapped the last bit around him, you were relieved to find it had been the perfect amount. He didn’t have the energy to argue with you, nor to explain that by the morning, or at least the late afternoon tomorrow, he would be mostly healed up and able to leave. 

“Could I see your hands?” You took them in yours, looking at his palms, happy to find them not all that scrapped up. He huffed when you put them back down. “Can I get you something to drink?”

He perked up a bit, “You got any whiskey?”

You pull up a step stool and search through your liquor cabinet, you had a modest amount of choices for when friends came over. But your whiskey selection was rather poor. He watches you as you try to balance while you move bottles out of the way.

“I only have Screwball and Jack Daniel’s” you call out over your shoulder.

He groans and rolls his eyes, he should have expected that from a young girl like you. “Daniel’s.” 

You get the bottle down from the cabinet and grab him a glass. As you go to pour it he stops your hand, “Just give me the bottle sweetheart.” 

You oblige, and sit on the couch across from him. Watching as he takes a swig from the bottle, swishing it around in his mouth before swallowing. You are almost entranced watching him, something about him draws you in. Admittedly it was strange for you to be ogling a complete stranger, whom you had just witnessed get fully hit by a car, but you couldn’t help yourself. You shift on the couch, trying to find a comfortable position.

“What’s your name?”

He sighs, placing the bottle down, “Logan.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the Doctor, Logan?”

“I’ll be alright.”

“No offense, but you just got knocked on your ass by a speeding car.”

“Been through worse.” He says, and you believe him. “I’ll be good to go tomorrow, don’t worry your pretty little head about me.”

You nod, and resign to not ask him any further. Instead just watching as he drinks, and wondering what someone like him was doing in the neighborhood anyway.

-sit watching him, as he starts to get sleepy, you offer to bring him to your bed to sleep

“You invite a lot of strange men into your bed?”

“No.”

“I’m the first?”

You don’t answer, helping him lay down and get comfortable. Taking his shoes off for him and asking if he needs anything else.

“I’m alright.”

“Ok, I’ll be on the couch if you need anything.” As you walk away, he can sense how you sigh. Knowing you probably can’t sleep on that couch, he gets a little smirk on his face.

“Why don’t you stay with me, Princess?” He can hear your breath catch in your throat and your little kind heart starts to race. “Make sure I stay breathing, ya know?”

You nod, feeling silly for how quickly you want this attention from him. But you can’t help yourself and you crawl into bed with him. Trying not to bump him as you get under the blankets. You face away from him and close your eyes, trying to fall asleep as fast as possible, the adrenaline of the whole situation quickly fading. He shifts in the bed, you can feel his warmth radiating from him. He places his hand on your waist and pulls you closer to him. His mouth against the back of your head, your back pressed against his chest. He whispers something to you, but you can barely hear it over the sound of your heart hammering away. 

You aren’t sure how but you were able to fall asleep like that, Logan holding you against him, and you hiding your face in your pillow hoping you could get through this without any more strange feelings bubbling up in your stomach. 

When you woke up, Logan’s mouth was pressed to your neck, softly mumbling against you. The scruff of his beard scratching against your skin. When you shifted he pulled away, but his arm remained around your waist. You patted him and tried to squirm out of bed.

“Mmm...” he groaned. “Morning.” 

He stayed in bed as you went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. He watched you, your pj shorts riding up, and the tank you wore hugging tightly to you. You felt a little sweaty, probably due to having something so warm in your bed for once. You lean in the doorway to the bedroom watching as he slowly sits up.

“How are you feeling?”

“Could use a shower,” He groans as he stands from the bed, stretching and feeling all the aches slowly coming back.

You lead him to the bathroom, bringing him a towel and washcloth. You help him unwrap his bandages, and as you do you are surprised to see them mostly scabbed and scarred over, only a few of the deeper ones were still periodically dripping with blood.

“That’s quite impressive,” you remark, tracing your finger lightly over one of the scars.

“Not as good as it used to be,” He shrugs. You turn your back to him as he gets into the shower. Once the curtain is closed you grab his clothes and as he showers you wash his clothes and your bed sheets, grateful to have the luxury of in unit laundry. 

You hear him drop some stuff in the shower and check on him, he says he's okay and that his shoulder is just stiff. You return to your spot on the couch, wondering how he managed to heal so well overnight, maybe he just had good genetics. His muscles and features already seemed unfair to be on a man of his presumed age, so perhaps he just had quicker blood clotting than your average person.

You hear the shower shut off, and a few moments later he steps out. Wrapped in only a towel, your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him. You couldn’t help but imagine being pressed up against him, much like last night, but without the barrier of injury or clothing. The way the towel clung to his waist, droplets of water stuck to his skin, his hair wet and dripping. You shook the thoughts out of your head and offer him the biggest bathrobe you have while his clothes are drying.

You make a pot of coffee and sit next to him on the couch. He seems much more relaxed this morning, and maybe even a bit more interested in your company. He reaches his hand out to you, placing it right above your knee, “I appreciate you going through all this effort for an old man.”

“Of course, I couldn’t just leave you on the street.” You squirm a bit as he rubs his hand gently back and forth.

“Anything I can do for ya, you know return the favor?” You could see a bit of a smile spreading as he looked towards you. God he was much more attractive in the light of day.

“Oh-” You feel heat rising to your face and you look away towards the window. “No. No, it’s no big deal.”

He smirks, he can hear your heart racing. Hell, he can even smell your desire pooling between your thighs. Sweet girls like you always seem to be affected by him. He drops his hand from your knee, leaning back into the couch, “Come on, be honest with me Sweetheart,”

You scoot a little closer to him, your thigh pressing into his.

“That's it, I don’t bite.” But deep down he would, if you begged him too. He’d rip those pjs off you and treat you like a doll. Make you squirm and scream until your mind goes hazy and your eyes water. 

You lean closer against him, your shoulder pressing up against his, trying to build the courage to ask him for what you really want. Before you can find the words he brings his hand up to your jaw and turns you to face him. He searches your eyes for a moment, giving you space to protest, and when you don’t he closes the gap and kisses you. Gentle and soft, you can taste the coffee on his breath but you don’t even care. He pulls away and you whine involuntarily.

“Needy, are we?” You nod and push yourself closer to him, he kisses you again, dropping his hand down to trace along your arm, until he reaches your waist. He pulls you in, his hand against the small of your back. He kisses you deeply and passionately, savoring the taste of your mouth as he slips his tongue inside. Feeling pleased by the soft whines and moans you’re making against him. 

He slips his free hand down between your thighs, groaning when he feels how wet you are through the fabric of your pajama shorts. Practically smiling into the kiss when he slips his hand under the waistband and realizes you weren’t wearing panties this entire time. 

“Bringing me into your house, and you didn’t even have panties on?” He brings his fingertips to rub your clit in little circles. You whine, knowing that you could never expect your night to unfold the way it did. His hand is so rough and calloused but his movements are so gentle, teasing you so softly. You press your head into the side of his arm wanting him to be rougher, wanting to get there faster.

He pulls his hand away and you groan at the loss of contact. He pulls you into his lap and removes your shorts. With you resting on his thighs he leans you back against him and brings his hand back to toy with you. His touch is electrifying and you rock your hips up against him trying to get more, but he keeps the same languid pace with just a small bit of pressure. 

He uses his other hand to wrap around your waist and hold you in place. You can feel him pressed up against your back, the soft fabric of the bathrobe you gave him gliding along your skin. As you shift and whine he keeps you steady, not giving you enough to make you cum, but just enough to make you feel dizzy as the frustration starts to build.

“Logan… please,” You plead with him and he kisses your neck.

“What do you need, baby?”

“More…” He laughs against your skin as you try to press yourself up against his hand again, but he just keeps you in place, his grip tightening. 

“I’ll give you more.” And he does. Finally speeding up the motion of his hand and adding more force. You’re so happy that you hardly notice as your orgasm quickly washes over you. Your thighs trembling against him. You don’t even register it as he flips you around to face him, using both his hands to hold your hips and lower you down onto his cock. 

When you come back to earth, you’re met with the feeling of being utterly full. You hadn’t gotten a good look at his dick before, but just based on the feeling of it, you knew you were in trouble. It was thick and stretched you open, making you shiver as he bounced you slowly up and down. The way it dragged along your walls, the way the tip of it brushed against that sweet spot inside. You were reduced to moans and whines, and hardly any thoughts could form in your brain that weren’t regarding Logan fucking you. He kissed you while he continued to fuck into you. His pace picking up and making you see stars. 

“Fuck… that pretty little pussy of yours feels so good.” He groaned into your ear and you shivered around him. “Were you gonna hide this from me?”

You shake your head, and try to say no but all that escapes your mouth is another choked whine. He grins as he admires your fucked out expression. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to release, as he pounds into you, hitting that spot and pressing against you. You’re breathing becomes ragged and your whines and moans blend into nothing but noise as you clench around his cock and come undone.

“That’s it, Doll. Cum all over this cock.” He fucks you through your orgasm and you drop your head onto his shoulder. Whining and moaning and cursing under your breath as he doesn’t stop. He’s getting closer too, his thrusts start to falter and his composure starts to slip. You feel him twitch and in moments warm, thick cum floods your insides. He holds you there, and kisses the top of your head. Murmuring about how good you feel, how you’re such a good girl for taking all of him. Your fuzzy little head can’t even reply. 

When your brain finds its way back to you, and you can breathe in a regular manner, you feel his cock slide out of you, and his cum seeps from you, coating your thighs and his. He shifts under you and you stiffen.

“Do you have to leave?” You aren’t sure why, but you don’t want to let go of this strange man just yet. 

“I can stay a little longer for you, Princess.”

[princessbrunette]

if anyone understands having a tricky relationship with their father, it’s nate archibald. ౨ৎ

somethin small i wrote abt nate bc a few people asked. cw: daddy kink, daddy issues, smut

that distant stare of yours, that pout as you stare out over the city from his apartment window. he knows it all too well. approaches you softly with a slight sympathetic pout of his own, running a hand over your head and bringing your cheek to his chest so he can kiss the top of your head. he couldn’t give you a better father, but he could give you that guidance and love you crave so much. he could do better.

so he gives you everything — you want that dress costing an arm and a leg? it’s already hanging in your side of the closet at his apartment. you too sleepy as you sit at the kitchen table in the morning after a long night with him? he’s forking up a perfect biteful of pancake and bringing it to your lips with a grin, happy to do so. he never gets mad when you snap at him, something deeper clearly triggering such a sudden reaction— only frowning and shaking his head, closing in on you to thumb at your cheek. “whats with the attitude? somethings on your mind. talk to me.” he coo’s empathetically.

it’s not just you that noticed— blair’s smug but somewhat gleeful smile as she totters alongside nate on the street, nudging him with a sharp elbow through her maison margiela coat. “well, you know how thrilled i am for you to finally be tugging along a girl of taste. even if i have to watch you treat her like you snatched her from the cradle yourself.”

he huffs out a laugh, shooting her a confused glance, walking alongside her with his hands in his pockets. “what are you talking about? she’s like one year younger than me. nearly two.”

“age isn’t nothing but a number, nate— i’m talking about the coddling, tell me — does she call you daddy in just the bedroom or do you extend that to all hours of the day?”

“jesus— need i remind you of boundaries blair, what i do with my girlfriend is none of your business… but— no, she doesn’t call me that.”

but it stayed bouncing around his brain like a ping pong ball. started noticing all the little things, how much more you’d cling to him after an argument with your father. selfishly, he almost started wishing you’d fight more— just so he could dote on you like that. the whole ‘daddy’ thing wouldn’t be so weird right? the thought of it had him reaching down to readjust in his tight suit pants, clearing his throat. uncomfortable? yes. but sexy, crazily so.

maybe he could milk it out of you. enforce a little more guidance until you’re putty in his hand. it wouldn’t be hard, he saw the way you’d blink at him all doe eyed when he’d tell you not to stay up too late, both thumbs stroking your cheeks. he’d speak slower, calmer, stand closer, make him the only thing you can see, think about even. he was gentle, loving, held eye contact super well — too well, made your face get hot and wanna look away. made you wanna shrink, go all mushy in your brain. “hey, look at me when i talk to you sweetheart. i don’t bite, you know.” he smiles, and there’s no threat present but god you’d never disobey him. never your nate.

it finally slips out when he’s got your thighs pinned open, strong arms wrapped around them whilst he sucks on your clit. he was always good at that, making you cum. nate knew just how to destress you after a long stressful day, far too stressful for his sweet girl. he laps you up, pressing thick fingers deep inside gummy walls, dribbling over your slit.

“nnnnnn—” you can’t even get his name out, clutching a pink throw pillow.

“i know, baby.” he hums.

“daddy!” you cry, and he doesn’t even bat an eyelid as if he was expecting it. if you’d been more with it, you would have seen him bite back a proud chuckle, shoulders relaxing just a little. he keeps at it, stroking the inside of your sensitive thighs.

“thats right. tell daddy how it feels.”

[paperultra]

the liminal space.

Pairing: OPLA!Roronoa Zoro x Reader Word Count: 1,575 words Warnings: Swearing, mentions of alcohol use [A/N: written with the cooper!reader from mise en rose in mind. i don't know where in the timeline this occurs, though. lol.]

cingulomania (noun): a strong desire to hold a person in your arms

Living in close quarters can really change how you see a person.

Roronoa Zoro, for instance, had always struck you as rather aloof, having traveled alone for some time before you joined him, and unused to physical affection. He never gave any indication that he was one to enjoy it, and he never sought it out from anyone. That certainly wasn’t odd. You respected his tendency towards personal space, subsequently believing that it extended to his sleeping habits as well.

So when you wake up, hardly able to breathe underneath the hulking mass of a snoring swordsman, you are more surprised than anything.

“Zoro,” you wheeze, patting his back with the hand that isn’t crushed between his chest and yours. Nothing happens, so you swat harder. “Zoro. You’re crushing me.”

His arms squeeze around you as he stirs, inhaling sharply next to your ear. You stop moving as he lifts his head and opens his eyes just wide enough to register you beneath him.

He pauses.

Good morning, sunshine is what you want to say in a cheeky tone. You want to prove that you’re unaffected by the warmth of his body pressing yours into the mattress, the sensation of his breath across your cheekbone and the way his gaze transitions from something bleary into something sharp.

The greeting refuses to leave your mouth. All you can do is blink.

The next thing you know, Zoro’s rolling off of you and out of bed with nary an apology, mumbling something about going to the bathroom.

You hum distantly in response and stare up at the ceiling as he shuffles to the door. Once he closes it behind him, you reach up and fold your hands over your eyes, cheeks hot.

Great.

—

It all started because you and Zoro could only afford a single bed at the inn.

(You use the term “afford” loosely here. The truth of the matter is that you grossly underestimated how much a room would cost, and the owner of the one place willing to lend you a room for half the usual rate demanded physical labor to make up for the rest. Given that Zoro would be spending most of his time hunting down a bounty, the majority of the unpaid labor fell on your shoulders.)

(But you digress.)

The room is small and bare, which is fine, because you and Zoro don’t have much between the two of you anyway. The only problem is that there is only one bed. Zoro had expressed no qualms about sharing so long as you didn’t disturb his sleep, and you had readily agreed, not wanting either of you to sleep on the floor.

After the first morning, you’re not sure if that was a lapse of judgement on your part or not.

Zoro doesn’t mention it at all before he leaves for the day, and you don’t, either. However, when he comes back in the middle of the night and you’re already in bed, squinting and shielding yourself from the bright hallway light as he takes his slippers off and walks in, he sits on the carpet just a few feet away from your side.

“What are you doing?” you ask as he proceeds to lay down.

“Sleeping.”

He closes his eyes and folds his arms behind his head. You frown.

“Why aren’t you sleeping up here?” No answer. You lift your head from your pillow, indignant. “Hey, don’t ignore me! I know you’re still awake.”

“I’ve had a long day,” he grumbles, “so I’d like some quiet so I can sleep. Thanks.”

You huff.

The thought that Zoro might actually be just as embarrassed flits briefly through your mind, but you extinguish it just as quickly. He’s never seemed like the kind of guy to be self-conscious about those kinds of things. A more likely reason is that he’s decided that he wants his own separate space after all and can’t be bothered to kick you off the bed.

So, you kick yourself off instead.

“What are you doing?” The phrase now comes from Zoro as you throw the covers off and grab your pillow, kneeling on the ground beside him. His eyes open and his brow furrows.

“Take the bed. I feel guilty.”

“I don’t want the bed.”

“Everybody wants the bed.” You lie down on the carpet and cross your arms over your chest, stubborn. “I’ve already slept in it. Now it’s your turn.”

“You’re an idiot,” Zoro says.

Neither of you budge.

The next morning, you decide that the first morning was in fact not a fluke, as you awake with your face smushed against his chest and the smell of steel in your nose once again. He’s not on top of you, at least, but the way he clutches you while you’re lying on your side, one ankle hooked over yours, is somehow ten times more mortifying. You wake him up in the midst of untangling yourself and pretend like nothing happened.

Who’s the idiot now? (The answer is both of you. Both of you are idiots.)

—

The third night, you and Zoro flop onto the hard mattress with twin groans, heads spinning and feeling overall miserable.

“That was the shittiest booze I’ve ever had,” Zoro slurs next to you, face down in his pillow.

“But you got a lead, right?” you mumble.

“Yeah …”

You had been there in the bar when he’d gotten that lead, but you can’t remember what it was for the life of you. Another inn? Another bar? Ugh, you’re never drinking there again.

“I’m cold.”

There are blankets on the bed. Unfortunately, getting underneath them would require a lot of moving, and you are physically incapable of exerting yourself that much right now.

You shiver and turn onto your side to curl up. You’ll fall asleep at some point, anyway.

Zoro murmurs your name.

“Hm,” you groan, eyes screwed shut.

He doesn’t say anything in reply. But you hear the mattress squeak, the bedsheets rustle as he shifts closer, and your breath catches when the small distance between you closes. He does not wrap his arms around you, no, but your knees touch, and the heat from his skin melds into yours. You hear his breathing slow to a crawl.

Through your drunken haze breaks through a sudden need to draw him into you, to tuck your face into his neck and keep it there forever. You want – you want. But you’re exhausted, and your head aches, so you find yourself slipping into a deep slumber instead.

He’s already gone when you wake up.

—

A suspiciously lumpy gunnysack in the corner of the room catches your eye once you enter, hand over your mouth to stifle a yawn.

“What’s in the bag?”

“Eight million beri,” Zoro says from his seat on the bed. Cleaning supplies for his swords are strewn around him, and he sheathes the Wado Ichimonji as you close the door. “I ran into another bounty on the way back.”

“Eight mill –” You clear your throat. “Wow. That was pretty lucky.” Eight million beri. Sometimes you wonder if you’ll ever get used to how much bounty hunters can make. (God, that would’ve been more than enough to pay for the room.) “We’re heading out to a marine base tomorrow morning, then?”

“That’s the plan.”

He puts away his supplies, setting them and his swords against the wall near his pillow before standing up to pull down the sheets on his side. You turn off the bedside lamp and do the same, crawling in with a sigh.

The two of you simply lie side-by-side until you decide to break the silence with your big mouth again.

“Am I a burden to you?” you ask.

“No.” The plainness of Zoro’s tone is a small comfort, you suppose. “Why are you asking?”

“Well …” You already regret bringing this topic up as you trail off, biting your bottom lip. “I feel like I haven’t really done much. I mean, I help with navigating and searching crowds and stuff, and I’ve been getting better at fighting, but I can’t help you, you know?” You fiddle with your fingers. “You don’t actually need me.”

There’s a gap between you and Zoro that you’ll likely never be able to close. You had always known that, and so had Zoro; in fact, he had told you at the start that going with him was a bad idea, given your inexperience in bounty hunting and traveling in general. And although you’d like to think that your ability to read a map and fix things convinced him of your usefulness, there are times when you think Zoro regrets bringing you along. Like now.

Zoro grunts, turning to lay on his back. His shoulder nearly lands on your hands, and you draw them to yourself as you wait for his answer.

It is brief and straightforward.

“I’m not forcing you to go with me,” he says. “And if you were a burden, I would’ve told you a long time ago.”

“Oh.”

It is brief and straightforward, and yet, there’s a strange lump in your throat. You swallow it and nod, even though he cannot see you do so.

Nothing more is said. However, as the night goes on, you reach out, and you find him, and Zoro finds you, and the space between your arms fills up with warmth and an unspoken promise. And you sleep very well.

[avcdgrdn]

── .✦ [ FIC ]: can i really stay here? [ part four ]

[ part one & part two & part three ]

mullet stanley pines x innkeeper reader

tags: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, sfw

word count: 1531

˙✧˖° ༘ ⋆｡˚

it took you about a half hour to get ready.

okay, maybe you spent a solid five minutes screaming into a pillow, but that’s besides the point.

descending the staircase of the inn, you emerged in the lobby, dressed up and dreamy. stan pines has spent years perfecting his poker face, but when he laid eyes on you, he couldn’t stop his jaw from dropping.

he was so glad that he gambled on a ‘yes.’

“sweet moses.” he breathed, rubbing his face with one hand before taking another good, long look at you.

“how do i look?” you carefully pushed a stray hair back into place, glancing expectantly at your flabbergasted date.

“like you fell from heaven.” a smug grin grew on his face. he was smitten. “i’d offer you my arm, but you look too perfect to touch.”

his charm was working wonders on you. you chuckled softly, rosy cheeks hinting at the feelings that raged within. “i’m far from perfect, you know.”

he held out his hand to you, his voice low. “not in my eyes, doll. i call you angel for a reason.”

you took his hand, and he led you out to where his car was parked. he made a point of opening the passenger side door for you, shutting it after you were situated and coming around to the driver’s side.

you could faintly smell the cigarette smoke that stubbornly clung onto the car, but he had totally cleaned up the interior, having crammed all his things into the trunk and scrubbed away troublesome stains. there was even a small pine tree air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror.

“i hope y’like the place i picked. it ain’t much, but i figured it’d be nice.” starting the engine, he snaked his arm around the back of your headrest, looking over his shoulder as he reversed out of the parking lot and made his way out onto the road. you could feel yourself practically buzzing with excitement and curiosity, smiling and folding your hands in your lap.

it was about a five-minute car ride, and neon lights illuminating the bustling cityscape made for a nice view. you found yourself pulling into the parking lot of one of the nicest restaurants in town. wait a second …

your brows rose. “stan, this is—”

you were cut off as he shushed you, waving his hand dismissively. “don’t even think about it. don’t worry about it. just let me do this for ya, alright?”

“but—”

his hand gently pushed your mouth shut from underneath your chin, tilting your head towards him. “it’s my turn t’ be the nice one. ya got it?”

all you could do was silently nod your head. you wanted to question how much this was costing him, but it was obvious that he didn’t want you to know that.

a moment later, you walked into the restaurant, and a waiter led you to your table. sitting down across from stan, you looked around the place, fascinated.

“you know, i’ve always wanted to check this place out, but i’ve just never had a reason to.” you smiled, returning your focus to him. “this is exciting!”

“oh yeah? huh, musta been a lucky guess.” he sighed, his eyes narrowing as he gazed at you.

the waiter came around, and you placed your orders. stanley could barely take his eyes off you the whole time, and they stayed just as glued in place after the waiter left.

“so, i’m gonna cut to the chase …” he paused, fidgeting with a fork on the table, never breaking eye contact.

“... i wanna know everything about you.”

you felt your face heat up. he was staring at you with a lot more intent than he had the last time you’d gone out to eat together.

“you do? … everything?”

“you heard me.” his tone was soft, but serious. “whatever you’re willing t' share, i’ll gratefully take.”

your heart beat louder in your chest. this man genuinely wanted to get closer to you.

“well … my mom is a schoolteacher, and my dad works for the bank.” you stroked your chin thoughtfully. “i’ve always been told i’m good at hosting people. i think that’s sort of what inspired me to open an inn in the first place.”

you continued to infodump about your life, your passions, and whatever else came to mind. stanley was loving every single second of it. he’d occasionally pipe in with a comment on something you’d said, but for the most part, he just gazed dreamily, leaning his head against one hand.

the conversation kept on going throughout the meal, and the two of you took turns talking while the other took a few bites of food. you hadn’t spent quality time with someone like this in so long—you’ve only been worried about minding the inn for the past few years—and you found that you were totally captivated by him.

you wanted to stay like this forever.

after swallowing a mouthful of food, you met his warm brown eyes with your own. “hey, stan?”

“hmm?”

“how long are you staying for?”

he paused, setting down his utensil and straightening in his seat.

“i mean … i wanna keep doing this with you.” your voice was quieter. “getting to know each other, just … talking. but … i know your stay with me is probably temporary …”

his bit his lower lip for a moment, looking down. the bill came, and he scribbled a signature, handing the waiter a few folded bills along with the receipt.

“let’s head out, yeah?”

“okay …”

the car ride back to the inn was silent, save for the ambience of surrounding traffic and the low hum of the radio. there was a certain tension hanging in the air.

pulling into the parking lot, stan put the car in park, taking the key out.

“look.”

he shifted in his seat, turning his body towards you. nervously, he reached one hand out, placing it on your arm and capturing your attention.

“i’ve been walking a tightrope for what feels like forever. and … i don’t know if i’ll get the privilege of keeping you in my life.”

your heart skipped a beat.

he took a deep breath. “i know damn well i don’t deserve you. hell, you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. when i’m with you, i feel like i can be appreciated by somebody …” he swallowed a lump in his throat.

“... nobody has ever made me feel that way before.”

tears welled up quietly. he clenched his teeth, fighting to keep his composure, but ultimately failing.

“i … i had no … idea how much i needed that. how much i needed you.”

a single tear rolled down his cheek, succeeded by another … and another. he was choking the words out.

“i … know we haven’t known each other that long, but … do you … feel it, too?”

there was desperation in his voice, in his eyes.

it was as if he were asking for a miracle.

tears were already clouding your vision. turning in your seat, you gently wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace, which he quickly returned.

“i feel it too, stanley.” you murmured, biting back a voice crack as you felt the tears falling. you just squint your eyes shut. he held onto you even tighter, as if he was afraid that you would disappear.

“hah … so i’m not crazy …” he laughed weakly, sniffling and pulling his head back to look at you. his thumbs gently wiped the tears from your face. his touch was so delicate … almost reverent. “i knew there was something between us.”

you sighed quietly as he held your face, smiling upon hearing his laugh.

your next words escaped your mouth before you could process it.

“i love you.”

stanley’s eyes went wide.

“you … what?”

“i … i lov—”

you didn’t get the chance to repeat yourself, as he had leaned in and pressed his lips against your own.

stunned at first, you gradually returned the kiss, letting your eyelids shut on their own. it was sweet and sincere, as if it held the meaning of a thousand words.

after a moment, he pulled away, leaning his forehead against yours, his eyes still closed.

“i love you, too.”

he shifted closer to you, moving his head to rest on your shoulder as he pulled you into another hug.

“please … no matter what happens, please promise me you won’t ever forget about me.”

“oh, stan … don’t say that. i couldn’t forget you, even if i tried.”

his strong arms tightened around you even further. you could feel his heartbeat through the rise and fall of his chest, and it lulled you into a trance.

“... my love. mine.”

he kept mumbling vaguely into your shoulder, refusing to let go of you. you smiled to yourself, bringing your hand up to his ponytail and undoing the hairtie so that his mullet fell loose.

and for the next half hour, you ran your fingers through his hair while he clung to you like a magnet.

end

[ part five ]

author's note:

i said goodbye to my sanity in the middle of writing this chapter

also THANK YOU FOR THE LOVE ?!?!? the first three parts collectively have over 750 notes DANGGG

part five is happening. >:) lmk if you want in on the taglist

tag list: @icouldntthinkofanythingclever @seahorrorz @blustalker @hay-needle @phanmai1002 @samanthastarss @bumblingbriars @arya-eats-chips @bihexualandferal @hello-i-like-owls @blurryface505 @ryethebrokengae @skeet-2 @thisisprettymuchafanaccount @loleeness @mothie-jpg @ryoiii @ghostieballs @dinsfire24 @put-a-cork-in-it-nork

[sansaorgana]

— SECOND CHANCE

PAIRING — Erik Lehnsherr x fem!Mutant!Reader

SUMMARY — Long time ago, you made your choice not to follow Erik. It was a decision that you have been regretting ever since. Ten years later you finally see him again.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Finally, as I promised, another fic with Erik!!! And not the last one either! 😁 I have rewatched all X–Men movies recently and I have some ideas... 😊 Reader’s mutation is NOT specified.

WORD COUNT — 3,040

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

SECOND CHANCE

Tight, black and yellow suit was hot to touch from the heat of the sun. You still remembered that feeling; the hot material underneath your fingers when you were trying to adjust the torn piece on your shoulder to cover your wounded skin from the upcoming blows and punches. You also remembered the fear, the pounding heart in your chest and the metallic taste of blood on your tongue from accidentally biting it after landing flat-faced on the ground when the plane crashed. 

And you remembered Erik’s steel blue eyes. He was surprised to see you even hesitate after his invitation to stand by his side. He felt like there was no need for words. Your loyalty was something he wouldn’t dare to overthink. But you didn’t move, you kept standing, petrified. And he kept staring at you and your lungs were starting to fail you. It was so heavy to breathe.

Even Raven left Charles’ side – his somewhat sister – and you kept standing in the same spot with a dry mouth because you had forgotten to swallow.

“(Y/N),” Erik’s voice was stern but you knew him well enough to know that it was a desperate plea more than a request. You had spent so much time together, he took you for granted.

“I’m sorry, Erik, I can’t…” you heard the words leaving your mouth but it felt like someone else had said them. It felt like watching a movie, it was certainly not real.

“(Y/N),” he repeated your name and his jaw clenched but you knew it was not driven by his anger. His world was tumbling down, everything he had known was turning into dust. You were everything he had known and the only person he had. And now you were betraying him… Abandoning him. Just like his mother did because she was just a weak human and couldn’t protect herself from the bullet. Meanwhile, you were a weak mutant – weak, because instead of admiring him, you feared him at that moment. He wasn’t a telepath but he could sense your apprehension.

“I love you…” you heard yourself saying and felt a tear rolling down your cheek. You had never told him that. That state of your feelings was obvious but you had never made that confession. “...but I can’t join you.”

Something told you already that you would regret your decision. You watched them all disappear but you let yourself burst out in tears only after being left alone with Moira, Charles and Hank. You didn’t want Erik to know how much this decision had cost you because then you’d expose yourself to his manipulations and sweet promises and you knew you’d give in.

But you didn’t want to give in and for the first time in your life, you made an important decision all by yourself. It was a tough decision, it was painful and difficult but it was morally good. You should have been proud of yourself but instead you were cursing yourself in your mind.

“Th-thank you,” Charles coughed out and you cracked a smile through your own tears.

You didn’t choose him. It wasn’t about him at all and you could feel deep in your bones that you would grow to hate him for your own decision just because it meant being separated from Erik.

You woke up abruptly and sat up in your bed while breathing heavily. You couldn’t see anything; it was the middle of the night. You glanced at the clock on your nightstand. Three am. You turned a small lamp on and wiped the sweat off of your forehead before sighing deeply and falling back down on your pillow.

It was raining outside, the sound was making you feel comfortable and somehow safe. Cold rain was a reminder that the hot, sunny day on the beach was far away. The dream was only a memory of something that had happened a long time ago.

“Stop haunting me, you bastard,” you murmured and turned your head around to look at the photograph on your night stand, right between the clock and a small lamp.

It was the only picture of you and Erik ever taken. You were wearing a new red polka dot dress that he had stolen for you in a store in Paris and the picture was taken by the Eiffel Tower. You had been living like Bonnie and Clyde back in the day, or like two superagents; always on a hunt. Chasing traces and clues, never spending more than a few nights in the same place. Back in the day, you had thought that once you’d capture your main target, you’d settle down with Erik.

“But you’re not dead,” you whispered and reached your hand out to caress the picture’s frame. “You’re not a ghost, so you can’t haunt me.”

It was your own heart haunting you with the memory of the day you two had parted. It was caused by regret.

You sighed and rolled over in the huge bed, feeling so small in the middle of it. Ten years earlier, the two of you had been sleeping in it together for a few weeks. It had been the longest time you had ever spent in one place. You had hoped it would become your home.

Your biggest regret was not even the fact that you and Erik were parted. Your biggest regret was that he was in jail now, deep under the ground. And you thought that it wouldn’t had happened… if only you were with him.

On the other hand, every single person that had joined him was dead – except for Raven. That was the argument Charles would often bring up whenever you whined about your current life.

And, God, you hated your life and you hated Charles Xavier. Well, not really. At this point you were like a dysfunctional family – but still a family – so you couldn’t say that you hated him. But he was an asshole, addicted to alcohol and that medicine that Hank had prepared for him. The mansion was dark and dirty, full of spiderwebs and dust. You only took care of your bedroom and the en suite bathroom. It wasn’t your job to be a maid of Charles and Hank.

At first your life hadn’t been so bad. You had been a teacher, you had your students and your schedule had been distracting you from thinking of Erik all the time. But now your life was full of long and boring days without any purpose and meaning. You were wasting your life away and you couldn’t even be with a man whom you loved. You spent most of your time reading books, taking walks around the neglected garden and taking long naps.

You turned the lamp off and formed a big roll out of your duvet to put your arms around it like it was a person. It would help you to fall asleep on nights like this.

“Are you thinking of me, too?” you asked quietly before drifting away to the land of dreams once again.

The arrival of that man known as Logan was the first exciting thing that had happened to you in years. And when he mentioned something about helping Erik to escape the Pentagon, you felt the mixture of anxiety and excitement.

The possibility of seeing Erik again was worth risking everything. Even if he wouldn’t want to look at you twice after all these years, after the abandonment and betrayal. You just wanted to see him again, look into his eyes, feel him being real and alive. You wanted the constant yearning and guilt to go away. You felt like you owed him the escape.

Of course Charles didn’t want to do it but it was about Raven more than about Erik, so he gave in. But he knew very well that you couldn’t wait to see your lover again so he kept giving you weird looks. And he wasn’t the only one.

“What is it?” you asked after spotting Logan in your mirror.

You were in your bedroom, preparing yourself to go with them all to find some mutant boy who was extremely fast.

“I’m sorry,” he emerged from the darkness and cleared his throat after properly entering your room instead of lurking inside through the ajar door.

“Don’t be sorry,” you shrugged your arms and fixed your hair. “I’m just wondering why are you scared of me. Or intimidated by me, I don’t know how to interpret your odd looks and why you’re avoiding me,” you explained and turned around to face him.

“Rule number one of a time traveller,” he cracked a smile, “is that you can’t reveal anything about the future.”

“Oh, so it has something to do with my future,” you cocked an eyebrow. “Now you have to tell me,” you insisted. “Are we, like, enemies?”

“It’s the first time I’m meeting you in real life,” he admitted and you furrowed your brows. “You’re more of a legend, I’d say. A myth perhaps.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that revelation. So, in the future you were apparently long gone. You only hoped that you wouldn’t die before making things right between you and Erik again.

“How will I die?”

“Perhaps not at all if we prevent Raven killing Trask,” he explained and you sighed with relief.

One thing you had in common with Charles was your hope – sometimes too naive and too innocent for your own good. But after finding out that this part of your future remains unwritten, for you it was like it wouldn’t happen at all. You had hope that you would manage to stop Raven. You were almost certain of it.

But still, there was some universe, some version of the timeline, where you had died.

“But when I died…” you started.

“I really don’t want to give you any details,” he shook his head.

“Just one thing, please,” you pleaded. “Was I with him again before that?”

Logan laughed a little and you furrowed your brow.

“So… That’s why Magneto is so dangerous,” he explained. “If I lost a woman who loved me so much, I would swear to destroy everything, too.”

You felt your cheeks heating up a little at that comment. It still wasn’t an answer to your question but it was enough – Erik loved you. Still.

“Let’s go,” you said and left the room to join Hank and Charles downstairs.

Charles decided it would be a bad idea for you to go to the Pentagon with the rest of them. You were supposed to wait for them on a plane – just in case they got into some sort of trouble, you’d be out of it so you could rescue them. That was Charles’ explanation. But in fact, he wasn’t sure of what you’d do after seeing Erik for the first time in ten years.

You were sitting in one of the seats, fixing your hair all the time, nervous of the way you looked. After all, ten years had passed and you weren’t as young as you had been on that beach when you had seen him for the last time. On your lap there was a bag with new clothes for Erik to wear so he wouldn’t have to walk around in a prisoner’s uniform. Your palms were sweaty and shaky as your heart pounded so loud that you couldn’t hear anything else.

There was a lump in your throat and a pit in your stomach as you chewed on your lower lip. And then you heard a whoosh sound and all of the guys showed up in front of you. At first, you didn’t react, too shocked to do anything.

When you realized that it was, in fact, Erik standing in front of you – real and alive – you stood up abruptly as the bag fell down off of your lap to the ground. He made wide eyes at you, Charles probably hadn’t told him that you’d be waiting.

“Let’s get out of here,” said Charles and sat down in one of the seats. Logan followed him while Hank sat behind the steer. Erik and you were still standing and staring at each other.

He hadn't changed much. His hair was shorter and there were a few more wrinkles on his face, but that would be it. You hoped he was thinking the same about you.

“I… I’ve got clothes for you… To ch-change,” you crouched down to pick up the bag before handing it to him.

It felt so surreal to see him again that you couldn’t even say “hello”.

“Thank you,” was all he said and your fingers brushed when he was taking the bag from you. Your whole body felt like it had been hit with an electric bolt.

Erik walked past you to go to the bathroom and you turned around to watch his back disappear behind the door.

“Wait,” you breathed out and followed him inside. Both Charles and Logan turned their heads to watch the scene. It had to be entertaining for them.

But they couldn’t see anything anyway because you closed the door after walking inside the bathroom after Erik. You couldn’t control your own body, it was all impulses and instincts leading your actions.

“What are you–” Erik started but you clashed your lips with his before he could finish the question.

He was surprised and taken aback at first but eventually he placed his big hands on both of your cheeks and pulled you even closer. You tangled your hands in his hair and opened your mouth wider to let him devour you with a kiss.

Long time ago you had been laying in bed together, in one of the cities that you had only been passing by. You remembered watching some war movie on TV in a hotel room and you remembered the long on-screen kiss. Your head had been on Erik’s chest and you had looked up to watch his face as you had been wondering what it was like to kiss someone after such a long time. Now you knew.

He broke the kiss when he felt your wet tears on his thumbs. You both caught your breaths and he wiped your cheeks gently. His own eyes were glistening, too.

“I thought you were with him now,” he said.

You took a step back – as much as the small bathroom allowed you to.

“You asshole,” you clenched your jaw and turned around to open the door and leave but he locked it without even lifting a finger. And when you tried to unlock it aggressively, he kept locking it back again until you gave up with a sigh and faced him again. “First thing you do after seeing me again is accusing me of cheating?” you asked, disappointed.

“Cheating? That would mean we were together all this time,” he raised an eyebrow. “As far as I remember, you chose him.”

“I know you were fucking Raven,” you pursed your lips to stop yourself from crying more, “and that other woman, too, probably. Emma, that was her name, right? Angel, too, I assume. I don’t care. I didn’t choose to go with you, you were free to do whatever you wanted. But it doesn’t mean that I didn’t choose to go with you because of him. I chose that for myself. And I have hated myself for it every day since then. I wanted to be a good person and do the right thing but turns out I am not. I am not a good person. Because all I want is to be with you again,” you confessed and blinked a few times to dry your fresh tears.

“You weren’t looking for me. I was waiting for you to change your mind and join me,” Erik clenched his jaw like he was waiting for some complicated explanation. But the answer was easy.

“I was afraid of you. I was afraid of the man I had seen on that beach, Erik. All these years we spent together, you had never told me what had been truly hiding in your head. I always thought it was about hunting Schmidt. I never knew you shared his ideas,” you swallowed thickly and sniffled.

“I didn’t want you to ever be afraid of me,” Erik’s fingers raised your chin up as he looked deep into your eyes. “You know that protecting you is my priority, always. Even if it means destroying the world,” he confessed as your eyes widened. It reminded you of what Logan had said earlier.

“I know,” you cracked a smile and he caressed your cheek. You leaned in to kiss the palm of his hand and held onto his wrist for a moment while looking into his eyes. “Will you do everything right this time? For me? I don’t want you to destroy the world. I just want you to fix everything so we can get the second chance,” you explained. “In our old room in Charles’ house there is still a drawer full of your clothes and I still wash them sometimes, pretending that you are using them, pretending that you’re going to come back soon. I make up the bed on your side and I keep a razor in the bathroom in case you wanted to shave,” you kept talking and talking and you knew that you were blabbering at this point but after all these years, you had to let it all out, along with the tears rolling down your cheeks uncontrollably now.

Erik furrowed his brow as his eyes full of pain were watching your face. Eventually, he shushed you and pressed your head to his chest to give you a comforting hug. The one you had been craving for so long.

“I will fix everything,” he made a promise and rubbed your back before giving kisses to your temple and the top of your head. “But I don’t think I want to go back to that house. I don’t think I can share Charles’ ideas and optimism.”

“It’s alright,” you shook your head. Now it was time for you to make a promise, too. “This time I will follow you wherever you go.”

MASTERLIST

[fallingdownhell]

haii may i request the sumeru men with a people pleaser so?

Love this! As a people pleaser myself, I know how hard this can be. Still, hope I did a decent job with this.

Characters Included: Tighnari; Cyno; Kaveh; Alhaitham; Wanderer

Content: gender neutral reader; established relationship; some comfort and fluff

Word count: 2k words

Have fun with this<3

Tighnari

he understands you want to help people

he really does... but when it comes at the cost of your own health and well being, that's where he draws a line

Tighnari watches you as you go around doing anything people ask of you, always a smile on your lips

but he sees behind that smile, sees the tired expression you so desperately try to hide

He knows you want to make people happy.. but there's got to be a line. Sometimes, one has to prioritize themselves

But when you remain unwilling to stand up for yourself, he steps in to take over for you. Enough is enough!

When he sees you taking on the work of someone else yet again, he decides to step in

He takes you away from the situation, making up some excuse about needing your help with something before he drags you to his hut by your hand

You protest against him at first, but when he didn't budge at all, you knew to just accept your fate. After all, Tighnari can be quite stubborn if he wants to be..

As you arrive, he instructs you to sit down on the bed, which you oblige to while he goes and makes you a quick snack, since he noticed you haven't really eaten anything all day. You had even skipped his top tier breakfast..

He literally watches you like a hawk, making sure that you eat at least half of the food he made before he tells you to lie down and relax

You try and protest again, but he's firm in his resolve

With a sigh, you comply. And as soon as your head hits the pillow, you notice just how exhausted and drained you truly feel..

Tighnari looks at you with an expression akin to "I knew it". He lied down next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he just held you like this..

"You don't always have to make everyone around you happy. You need to think about yourself and your own well being from time to time as well. You need breaks, just like everyone else needs them. Rest for now, my flower. I'll watch over you.."

Cyno

Cyno's an interesting case...

He wouldn't notice that behaviour in you at all at first. And once he does, he admires it first and foremost..

People were always afraid of him... they were when he was younger still.. and they are now, thanks to his status as General Mahamatra..

He finds it fascinating that people come to you to ask for your help constantly.. he can't even imagine what that would be like for him.. there would definitely be some underlying jealousy from him at the start

But.. overtime.. as the people ask more and more of you and you growing more and more stressed and tired trying to do all of them justice, did he finally see the downside to that kind of life..

Especially when it's affecting such a kindhearted soul like you, who can never turn anyone down for anything

after reaching that point, he starts to keep an eye out for you, making sure that you're not overworking yourself too much. But he wouldn't step in just yet, believing that you'd know your limits yourself

So, he just watches, as people come running to you again and again, asking you to fulfill simple tasks for them that they could have easily done themselves

it's not until much later does he realize that these people are only exploiting you and your kindness. To be fair, he only knows the extreme examples of such behaviour, so he didn't immediately recognise it with such "small" acts

but as time goes on, as he sees just how tired and exhausted you get, he starts to get worried himself

he's constantly asking himself why you wouldn't just turn those people down. He really doesn't understand it

But what he does understand is that you need a break. Urgently.

so without waiting any further, he goes into action. Cyno knows your usual schedule like the back of his hand so he knows that he has some time on hand

he goes to the market and buys all the ingredients for your favourite meal, which he promptly cooks you for dinner. After you've come home and eaten the food, he insists you take a nice, relaxing bath

after that, he gives you a nice and long massage, relaxing all your muscles perfectly. And once that is over, he cuddles you for the rest of the night until you both fall asleep

He's seen how hard you were working these last few days, so he wants you to know that he appreciates you and that he wants to help you unwind from time to time

"I've seen how these people treat you... you and the kindness you show them. Remember that it's okay to say No to them every now and then. You don't and can't always be responsible for everyone. You need to look out for yourself more. But for now, relax, my Lotus. Relax and let me take care of you for tonight."

Alhaitham

At some point, you became the unofficial librarian of the house of Daena

Not because you wanted to or applied for the job.. you just spent a lot of time in the library so you know where most of the books are. And people come to you when they need help with literally anything, because you never refuse to help anyone

At first you were happy to be able to help out a few struggling students, glad you were able to guide them in the right direction

But soon, word spread around and people came flooding you every tile they spotted you within the house of Daena

What was once a nice interaction and an exchange of information soon became an overwhelming amount of people bombarding you with questions

And even though it became too much for you very quickly, you didn't have the heart, not the opportunity, to turn them down

Much to the displeasure of someone else, as well

Though your boyfriend loved the House of Daena and to spend time with you here, he didn't appreciate people flooding you like that, taking time away he would usually spend with you and just being generally very loud

And since he knew you would never turn anyone down, he had to do it for you. He did not care what people thought or said about him, his reputation already being not the best. But what's it to him?

And today especially.. people were just so damn pushy and demanding towards you. It didn't sit right with him..

He watched you for a bit as two students were heavily debating something with you, raising their voices slightly. He noticed you growing uncomfortable in the situation yet still not saying anything

Deciding that he had to step in at this point, he walked over to you and simply took your hand, pulling you along with him without uttering a word

The two students were yelling after you, but he didn't pay them any mind. You weren't protesting at all, simply following him along, because you already knew why he did that

After he turned a quiet corner within the Academiya, he turned around and pulled you into his arms, engulfing you in a comforting hug

"I told you so many times.. you need to learn how to turn people down. They'll walk all over you otherwise. Please don't take this the wrong way, I'm just concerned about you. ...How are you? Feeling better?"

Kaveh

Oh boy...

this is quite the difficult situation, because Kaveh is such a big people pleaser himself

You two are constantly looking out for the other, reminding them to take breaks and to take things easy

you are both great at giving actual good, helpful advise. But when it comes to following them yourselves.. both you and Kaveh need to hone that skill much more

you constantly keep an eye out for him, as he does for you. Kaveh knows the telltale signs when you get exhausted and he always tries to gently remove you from the situation to get you to lie down when he sees them... which works for the most part

but he's often away on trips for his work, so he's not constantly around you to keep you safe from your own self destructive behaviour

when that happens and he returns from a trip a few days later, he finds you utterly exhausted and tired, about to collapse while standing up

he quite literally forces you to sit down or lie down while he makes you some simple food, mostly soups and such

and every time, you promise each other to look out better and to take better care of yourselves... only for that promise to be broken a few days later, letting the cycle begin anew.

Kaveh knows that things can't keep on going like this, something has to change. Something has to change, right now!

So he sits you down for an honest talk where he plays with open cards, sharing all his doubts and worries with you

It's an emotional talk, many tears from both you and him flow, but in the end, you both agree that you can't keep going like this, unless you want to destroy yourself completely

it will take a lot of time and effort, but you're sure that you can do this. You can do anything with Kaveh and his support by your side to help you back on your feet when the world tries to push you down again

"I know how hard it is.. you want to he helpful, you feel like that's the only way you can accomplish something in this world. But overworking yourself is not the right way to do this. Listen to me and listen to yourself. You are also important. So please, start treating yourself that way."

Wanderer

Hates it. Absolutely hates it

But not for the reason you might think

well... At first, at least

you see.... his issue in the beginning is how much time it takes away from your shared time together

every time you're out with him, even just for a walk, people come up to you, either engaging in conversation or asking favours of you

at the start, he only scoffs and shoots nasty looks at those people, but he does not interrupt, since he doesn't want to come of as rude to possible friends of yours

but he's still annoyed beyond anything that your attention is taken away from him

after he gets over the inital feelings of annoyance and anger, he begins to notice a pattern every time people approach you with a request in mind

he begins to notice your little hesitance before accepting the request, notices how your shoulders slump just slightly after they walk away without even giving you proper thanks

so, he decides to observe further... and boy, does he not like what he sees

because the longer he watches this unfold, the more rage he feels building up inside him

why were those pesky humans always coming to you for such trivial things? And why aren't you turning them down? In fact, he hasn't seen you turn down a single person so far..

of course, as he keeps on observing you, he notices you growing more and more tired the longer this keeps going

until one day, he just has enough

it happened when you two were out for a nice stroll in the evening and someone was approaching you yet again

something in him just snapped when he saw that familiar expression in their face

he quite rudely and loudly just stated a firm "NO!", taking your hand in his and just pulling you along with him

you did not protest against this, partly because you were surprised and a bit shocked by his strong reaction

he took you out of the city, to an open field where he sat down with you, watching the stars up in the sky

he kept quiet for a long while, and you also kept quiet, not knowing how to best tackle this situation

but as it turns out, you didn't have to do that at all

"Idiot... going around and letting yourself get expoited like that. What would you do if I weren't here to look out for you, huh? Just... be more careful. You don't always have to agree to anything, you can just say No to them. It's not that hard... But if you can't do that.. let me know. I'll do it for you."

[kenzieluvsnanami]

kenzieluvsnanami :: a wash day drabble (curlyhaired!reader) ☆ ✧✩₊˚.✧

cw // literally none, just a lot of fluff, reader is a slightly black coded but honestly applies to anyone with curly hair, reader is a a lil dramatic but its ok // wc 1.1k

thinking about wash day with my fave. the day every curly-haired girl dreads, comb getting caught in your dry, brittle hair as you rushed to get ready the day before, a sign that it was that time of the week.

with a reluctant huff, you would pull your sleepy body from the deviously snug sheets - gently lifting your husband's arm from where it had been resting, slung over your small frame to pull your body impossibly closer during the early hours of the morning.

it was now the early afternoon, a sunday of course. the only day the two of you really allowed yourselves to fully relax - no alarms, no plans… just peace.

well, that was until you had decided to leave wash day to the end of the week - your own procrastination desecrating the sanctity of sunday tranquility and replacing it with a slight irritability.

"honey...what are you doing?" his voice a couple octaves deeper from the lack of use; something that was soooo alluring to you, akin to a siren’s call in many ways, and how in that moment you would feel it luring you back into the cosy comfort of your shared bed, his solid arms, hmmmm….

but you couldn’t. because you still had to wash your hair.

you'd spin around and pull your bonnet off; wordlessly revealing your bone-dry hair - usual moist, defined curls being reduced to a ball of frizz.

"i see."

see whilst your husband didn’t have curly hair himself, he had definitely learnt a lot about it from your continual rants about the cost and effort of maintaining it; his thoughtful questions and observations being so endearing to you, his desire to understand further so he could better empathise and even help was something that truly meant a lot and actually brought the two of you closer together.

whilst he thought your hair always looked beautiful, in that moment he could understand that your hair was certainly in need of some…. tender love and care.

and in the mood you were currently in, it wasn’t certain that you were in the right mindset to be as careful as your hair as you would usually want to be.

wiping his eyes one last time, your husband would slip out of bed and amble towards you - hands outstretched as he settled them in your hair, lightly teasing out the larger knots with his fingertips.

"hmmm.. i remember you telling me that when your hair gets like this, you'd have to-" “wash it, yes i do ken” you would huff, feeling like an insolent child at the dire lack of patience you currently had but you couldn’t help it! the mere thought of having to go through all of the elaborate steps of your hair routine completely fatigued you.

without another word, your husband would take the assortment of products you were cradling in your arms and lead you to the bathroom.

"give me a second."

returning with a pillow, he would get you to sit on the bathroom floor; legs crossed on top of the pillow and your head rested on the edge of the bathtub.

"now, would the lady like a clarifying treatment or the usual hydrating shampoo?" he joked, a small smile forming on your face at the sight of your normally quite stoic husband playing pretend with you to stir you from your poor mood.

“…i think i’ll stick with my usual please” your eyes closing in complete bliss and relaxation as your husband turned on the shower head and began to wet your hair, the brittle strands alleviating under the downpour - becoming much more manageable.

skilled fingers would weave themselves into your hair, massaging shampoo deep into your flaky scalp; soft moans occasionally spilling out as he hit tender spots where the knots had been particularly tangled.

as he rinsed out the first wash of shampoo, you'd actually start to laugh; realising how overly melodramatic you were being over washday, forgetting how attentive and caring your husband was.

of course, he wouldn’t leave you to struggle on your own! whilst he may not always fully understand how to help, he was always willing to do anything for those he loved.

and that anything included the gentle drying of your now freshly washed hair, an old t-shirt collecting the excess water nicely as he helped you up back to the vanity in your bedroom.

"what did you want to do to your hair today, my love" he would murmur, pumping your leave-in conditioner into his palms, hands alternating between smoothing and scrunching your hair.

“well, i want to wear my hair out for the next couple days so what i normally do is just a couple of braids to keep my hair from frizzing too much and keep some definition”

you could practically hear your husband's brain processing everything you just said, brows slightly furrowed as he glanced back down at your hair; deciding what tools would be best to help you.

he held up a wide tooth comb in one hand and a denman brush in the other. "these two will be alright then?"

you’d then smile and nod, his hands using the wide tooth comb to first part your hair into 6 neat grids; securing each with small hair clips. then he’d delicately detangle each section from tip to root, applying rosemary oil to the scalp and a dab of gel to the strands before braiding the section.

"is this okay?" he’d question after the first braid, not sure if his braiding skills were as strong as your own.

“it’s perfect baby, thank you”, your words of affirmation easing his uncertainty, movements noticeably more confident as he went around and finished the 5 other braids. the two of you discussing what your plans would be for the rest of the day, deciding on a filling brunch and movie marathon being the most optimum way to spend a sunday.

a light kiss to your forehead would signal the end of nanami's salon services, his eyes filled with admiration as you turned and beamed back up at him; wondering how you were able to get so lucky and end up with someone as special as him.

a/n ✧✩₊˚. had to romanticise wash day otherwise i was literally never going to do it omg my arms ache

[littleplantfreak]

Mari… my god work has been killing me 😭 sometimes I’m so tempted to just set the place on fire…( I work in a pharmacy and tis the season for shots n stuff ) anyway it just got me thinking about how the WB boys would comfort you on a bad/stressful day and vis versa? Do you just collapse in his embrace when you come home close to tears? Are you the first one he thinks about when he needs a safe place to hide for a while from the world? Is it just me or has the work place become crazier? When you want a break but that break costs money 🙃

Emi darling I too wanna set work on fire (and that’s coming from a part time firefighter) Next time I get my covid/flu shot combo I’ll think of you 😭 I hope you get a break soon. As for craziness…yeah it’s definitely crazier i think but on my end my work is affected by election season as well.

Let’s see…

I think Sakura’s a listener first. Sure he’ll get the urge to fix whatever’s exhausted and/or distressed you, but what he can do right now is listen. Doesn’t matter the topic, he’s got this patient face on that only changes when he hears about how shitty your boss is or if your coworker shoves their work on you. Seeing him get upset on your behalf as you vent makes you feel better, having been able to get out all those feelings you’ve bottled up. He’ll take the lead after unless you have an idea of what you wanna do. Otherwise he’s dragging you on the couch to watch your favorite comfort show.

You would absolutely be his first thought when he’s on the reverse of this. Staring at your picture on his phone if he’s not with you and once he gets home he’s curled up next to you. Loves when you let him lay on your chest when he’s feeling bad, letting your hands card through his hair. He turns his phone off and everything. He does NOT want anyone interrupting that time with you.

Togame was the first one I thought of when I read this. He just exudes comfort to me but maybe I'm biased? He brings you to curl up with him in bed most of the time, though I think he'd be fantastic at massages! Tired, sore, just so tightly wound you could cry? Just let him straddle the backs of your thighs and his hands will physically pull your soul from your body, twist and wring it out, and put it right back in shiny and clean.

Even on a good day, I think he can't wait to get back to you. On a rough day? He's ready to start running home tbh. If he comes in to you cooking/reading/etc. He's behind you in an instant drawing you up in his arms. He will follow you around the house like that if you let him. Just a big koala soaking up the comfort you bring him. Asks if you'll go for a night walk with him after dinner if you both aren't too tired.

Umemiya...you know how he is. He can tell right away from your face and posture, even if you hadn't called him earlier asking if he could take care of some things for you. Of course he did it right away, lightening your load as much as he can, but he still brings you up on his lap on the couch to talk about it later when you see him. Asks if you two can plan a small day trip or vacation somewhere to de-stress because if so, he's all over it. If you really can't, he'll send lunches with you to work/school, little flowers and a motivational sticky note telling you how proud he is of you and home much he loves you.

You can also tell immediately when he's having a bad day. Clingy is an understatement. He can and will throw himself at you, no shame even if you're in public. Likes when you let him lay his head in your lap as he tells you about his day. He claims only 1000 kisses from you will be able to heal him from his struggles.

When you text Kiryu throughout the day he can tell you're stressed. By the time you get to his place, the lights are down, and your favorite scented candles are lit. He's down to do what you wanna do, whether it's watch a show, play a game, or just lay in the pillow and blanket nest he built earlier that's been stocked with your favorite snacks and drinks.

When he's stressed I think he really thinks of a shower first. Of course you're on his mind, but before anything else he just wants to physically wash the problems away. He really likes when you help him unwind by brushing his hair and taking his piercings out. Actually really likes if you'll take a bath with him. He's got an arsenal of bubble baths, body washes, scrubs, you name it. By the time you're both out, you smell heavenly and feel it too.

[lefarte]

Hallo, may I make a soft Levi funger x reader request? 💜

So polite heheh yes of course. My first request, is it cause he’s my profile picture 👀 ? You didn’t specify if you wanted headcanons or more of a ficlet (is that a word?) so I just sort of did my best I hope this is decent 🩷

Under the cut ^_^ no content warnings, just fluff, gender neutral reader

When Levi got clingy (which is often) it rarely manifested through physical touch. He’s hardly willing to do any more than tug on your sleeve to get your attention, and even this is a very small action that you could easily miss. More than anything, he liked to watch and guard you. Even if you kept telling him it wasn’t necessary, you always found him awake at the small hours of the morning over your bed.

“…I… I was awake anyway, so…”

He muttered something like that and then turn away. What would he do if not watch over you? Oil his gun? Count the windows in the building, count the entrance and exit points, think about his life up until this point? Since the war, even his mind became something of a problem. Always rearing its head at inopportune moments.

When he looked at you and the way your hair is fussed up first thing in the morning, he could almost imagine… domesticity. Something like this; he wakes up, and your hands are entangled from the night before, and you yawn and rub your eyes. You would eat breakfast together and talk.

“…How long have you been up?” You pulled the blankets off. “Did you sleep at all?”

Levi nodded. “I did…”

“You’re getting tremors in your hands again.”

He looked at his hands, cracked and dirty and covered in dry blood, bitten and shaky. A telltale sign. Within a few hours, maybe less, the nausea would come, and then the cravings, the sweat and the migraine. He shrugged.

You rolled out of bed. The bed squealed as you got off. To his surprise, you came to him.

“Don’t bite it,” You said, looking at his hands.

He blinked.

“You bit so hard you’re bleeding,” You reiterated, touching his fingernails.

He cocked his head, much like a dog. “S…Sometimes I wonder if you’re a… real… person.”

…Or a figment of his imagination. The first time he saw you, he ran away. You must have been some ghost of his past, one of the many dead faces brought animate by the withdrawals. And you kept pursuing. He thought for sure you wanted to kill him for what he did. Instead of that, you gave him heroin. And then you gave him food, and took him in, for absolutely no cost.

He decided that you must not know, and you should never know.

“Don’t be silly.”

You put a bandaid over his finger.

“…No…really… you shouldn’t be here…” Not in Prehevil. It’s a rotten place, for bad people. “And… um… I don’t need a bandage… you should save that.”

“You say weird things sometimes. It makes me want to squeeze you.”

He couldn’t respond to that. “Huh.”

“You need to get some sleep.”

“Stay here...” He croaked.

He had to admit that you were being sensible. The lack of sleep had been getting to him. He was saying things he shouldn’t say. The sun hadn’t fully risen, so… he could afford himself to rest for maybe another 20 minutes. Being generous.

It felt pathetic to beg.

“I’ll keep watch.” You promised.

Swallowing his shame, he slipped under the covers. It was still warm from your body heat. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt the warmth of a human, even if it was just the lingering traces from your pillow. He almost felt excited like a little kid. Its like an indirect hug, he thought.

You sat at the foot of the bed. You had no rifle to polish or any way to keep yourself occupied, except to listen to the soft breathing of Levi next to you. The way he curled up was soft, never like how a soldier should sleep. He left his rifle.

“Sleep well,” you said softly.

“….yeah….”

[faketrex]

How about "2) the last room at a drive-in motel in the small hours of the morning" for firstprince? 👀

Thank you, Sara! 💝 For prompt number 2, "the last room at a drive-in motel in the small hours of the morning."

RWRB, firstprince, alternate universe, a little bit of faux noir. Spies? Maybe! It's an... interlude. Plot creep was real with this one.

...

Just because the banging on the door–the banging that wakes him from the first sleep he's gotten in more than twenty-four hours–isn't a surprise, that doesn't mean that Alex fucking enjoys it.

On the nightstand, the red numbers on the radio alarm clock show 03:35 AM. Hard pass. Alex mashes one ear into his pillow; who knows, maybe he'll get lucky and it'll reduce the noise by half.

The banging gets louder. He'd expected that.

"Open the bloody door, Lexington, I know you're in there."

Whoever’s in the room on the other side of Alex's headboard starts pounding on the wall, too, in an aggressive rhythm that Alex recognizes: it's the sound of a business traveler who's not going to put up with any shit. "Be quiet, it's three in the morning!"

"Fine," Alex yells back as he rolls to his feet. He bangs one fist against the wall twice for good measure. Might as well join in on the fun. "I'm up, I'm up. Everyone hold your fucking horses."

Contrary to every one of his instincts, there's no need to check the peephole–or put on shoes, or even a shirt–before unlatching the door and swinging it open.

Alex has, in fact, been expecting this visit.

"You know, sweetheart, some of us like to live our lives using a little thing called subtlety. Fly under the radar, so to speak." He looks Henry up and down, eyes skimming over the crisp suit, the slicked-back hair, the shoes that had probably cost more than half the furniture in this motel room. "Does that concept ring any bells in your pretty little head?"

"Your charm is matched only by your shameless hypocrisy, as usual."

"Yeah? Should I even ask what kind of bogus James Bond car you've got parked outside?"

"Ah, but that would ruin the surprise," Henry demurs, deadpan.

Alex leans to the right and up onto his toes, but the parking lot is dim and misty–and he can't make much out beyond Henry's broad shoulders, anyway. They're a little distracting, and not just because of the raindrops spattered across his expensive suit. All of Henry is a little distracting. "Give me a hint?"

"Gather your things and come see for yourself."

"Well, maybe I'd rather just go back to bed, baby. It's always a treat to see you, but–"

"Shut up, shut up, I'm calling the front desk!"

In the pause following the threat, Henry reaches out and trails the tips of his fingers up Alex's bare clavicle. "Your neighbor would seem to agree with my plan."

"My neighbor hasn't got a leg to stand on after watching Wheel of Fortune so loudly, I could spell all the words myself. For five fucking hours. And–" The memory of Henry's touch on Alex's skin is staggering. "And you're late, Henry."

"Alex," Henry whispers, hushed, softly enough it's more breath than sound. "Love. There's coffee in the car."

Lucky for Henry, Alex's bag is already packed.

[nyursi]

Okay, Briar's an asshole but. BUT. Imagine.

(Written with male reader in mind but its quite ambiguous.)

Just another night at the brothel, dancing and showing off skin just to meet Bailey's weekly quota. It's uncomfortable, and the fear that some people you know at school would see you here, flaunting your body so shamelessly— yet hiding away under the uniform and maintaining a grade A student facade just to avoid Leighton's punishments. What would they think? What would Sydney, ever kind and pure, think of you when he sees you on stage? Or Whitney? No doubt using this to harass you even more. What about your teachers? God. The swarm of thoughts in your head just made your heart palpitate even more. Forgetting the one thing you always chanted in your mind whilst you danced on stage: "Always be aware." Because this is Hex Street, and theres nothing good lurking in the shadows.

The Brothels clients are similar to animals as well, you've had your fair share of men clamoring to grab and yank you from the stage mid-dance. And that was your mistake. Briar always told you not to think too much when you're on there. Because what happens? You lose focus. And that's dangerous. But before it could even register in your muscles to stop, and pay attention, two hands grasp at your waist— harsh, tugging, dragging your much smaller body away from the audience and into the secluded back rooms intended for the staff. Only halfway through did you realise who it was.

"Briar?" Your voice, small and meek, echoes in the hallways. But he doesn't respond, no matter how your voice begs him to give you an answer. You're left speechless when he throws the door to his office open, seemingly angered. Even more so when you're dropped on the couch he lazes on everyday. Your eyes trail up his figure, panting and heaving. Hair a mess— clinging to his face. Fists clenched. He looked like he had a fist fight.

A bitter gratefulness echoes in your soul, had he saved you? From the greedy hands that took, the touches that lingered even if you denied, the eyes that looked over you as if you were some meat in the butcher shop. At first, you're thankful. Had that been the scenario. But this is Briar, and him playing hero has a cost. A batch of saliva you forcefully lodged down your throat, not enjoying the heavy silence. "Oh darling," he cooes. Attempting to reassure you, but it sounds like hes trying to soothe himself. "I simply wanted to preserve the merchandise." Briar exclaims, fox-like grin gracing his face. Mischevious. Secretive. Manipulating.

Merchandise. Yeah. That's what you were. What else did you do? Selling your body to randos on the street for some quick cash, indulging in Avery's dates every now and then. You remember when you wanted to avoid such work a long time ago, deeming it unsavory. But look at you now. It's become second nature for you to skip Mason's swimming classes and head to the lower basement. Knees conditioned to the rough pavement. At some point, you had half the mind to bring a pillow.

Such "gentleness" was rare in this town. So you allowed him to tend to you, not like you could stop Briar if you could. He'd just throw you out to the pack of hungry wolves waiting outside. Salivating to pounce on their prey. Moments of silence. Rare peace. You let him wipe off your makeup, tidy your hair, even throwing you a new shirt (as yours was torn, like always). He'll let you believe you were safe for now.

But he'll never let you know the truth. Briar only saved you for himself. Who would defy him? It was only right he got a taste of you anyway.

[mrschristensen]

Kinktober Day 16 (10/16): Gun Play/Masks starring Ghostface! Sam Monroe

Kinktober Masterlist

WARNINGS: smut (READ AT YOUR OWN RISK), female s/o, dom Sam/sub s/o, gun play, mask kink, DDNE, forced sex/rape, pet names (baby, princess, good girl), bondage, brief gagging, some praise, piv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), lmk if I missed any!

synopsis: Ever since Sam started high school, he had the biggest crush on this girl. She had caught his attention in a way no one else could, and the simple fact her style was similar to his made her even more alluring. Now, he would finally have her and protect her, no matter the cost.

-> note: I WAS SO EXCITED TO WRITE THIS ONE RAHHHHHHH (live laugh love Ghostface Sam)

WC: 807 words

He was head over heels for a girl who attended the same high school as he did, and just who happens to be his best friend. But he wants more than that, way more than that. He wants her to be his, in every way possible, no matter what. He’d stop at nothing to make sure that happened, one way or another.

So that’s how he ended up outside her house, watching her undress and get ready for bed. His Ghostface mask and black outfit was marked with blood, the blood of a guy who had crossed the line. He had tried to grab her ass in the hallways, and he was unfortunate enough to meet such a fate, but oh well. He had no regrets whatsoever. No one touches his girl.

When she fell asleep, he stealthily made his way into the house and into her bedroom. Her parents were on vacation, leaving her home alone; it was the perfect time.

He picked her up bridal style, which had ended up waking her up. He cursed to himself internally, and her eyes widened in shock, going to scream or something while also going to punch him. He caught her hand and swiftly covered her mouth and nose, holding her against him as she struggled to escape from his grasp. “Shh, it’s okay, baby,” he murmured soothingly, the voice modulator transforming his voice into one she wouldn’t recognize. She wouldn’t let up, though, so he sighed and slipped some chloroform into her system, making her pass out.

“What am I ever gonna do with you?” he sighs, scooping her up in his arms once more before heading towards his house.

He brought her into his room, laying her down on the bed gently. He tied her to the bed just in case, and then he sat on the edge of the bed to wait for her to wake.

He was considering his options before she stirred, and of course, she woke startled. He quickly covered her mouth when she went to make a noise, and simply decided it would be better to gag her too. So he grabbed a ball gag from his drawer—he had a collection of sex toys, preparing for months for when she would be his—and put it in her mouth, securing it in the back.

“It’s okay,” he coos, smirking under the mask, “y’look so pretty like this, princess.”

She lets out a muffled whimper, struggling against the restraints that he had skillfully put her in. She couldn’t get out even if she tried, he made sure of that.

“Now,” he starts, “I’ll take off the gag if you be a good girl. But…”

He pulls out his glock, pressing it to her temple. “I ain’t afraid to use this, no matter how pretty you are. You understand?”

She nods quickly, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. He wasn’t going to use it, he couldn’t even if he wanted to, he loved her too much. But the threat of it turned him on, and he had a small feeling this whole thing turned her on too.

He took off the gag, and she was silent. She wouldn’t be for long, he knew that, because he’d be absolutely fucking her brains up. And he was right.

Her noises of pleasure escaped her lips as he drilled himself into her ruthlessly, savoring the feeling of her tight walls embracing his length so perfectly. “Shit, been thinkin’ about this and this pussy for so long,” he pants, feeling how close he was. It was so much better than his hand or his pillow, only being able to imagine how she was in bed. But now he got to experience it.

She whined in response, the restraints leaving her wrists and ankles with a reddened ring from the irritation and friction. He didn’t stop, though, keeping the gun next to her on the pillow to remind her that he could pick it up and pull the trigger if she disobeyed even just a little.

“C’mon, cum with me,” he coaxed, pinching her nipple roughly to add some stimulation. They both came in unison to his satisfaction, pumping her to the brim with his seed.

“Such a good girl f’me,” he praised lowly as they descended from their highs, panting and their bodies intertwined. He felt kind of bad that she really didn’t know who he was, since he still had the Ghostface mask on, but he’d tell her soon enough. Hopefully.

But he didn’t need to, since she figured it out on her own. Her eyes darted around the room, taking in her surroundings. Then it clicked. Her eyes widened slightly with shock. “Sam?”

He smirked, taking off the mask and revealing his face to her, before leaning in and capturing her lips in a searing kiss.

[yourmomwhitediamond]

Could I please request Rosie with a girlfriend who has a seizure in the middle of tea time? I had one yesterday and hit my head on the counter. Thankfully, I didn't bite my tongue for once.

Of course. I'm so sorry you had one, I'm guessing it was a tonic-clonic. I hope you recover soon. Make sure to get lots of sleep. Sending you my love x

Since I don't know what your warning signs or symptoms are (if you get any) before a seizure I'll base the build-up to the seizure on mine. I'd also like to say I haven't gone into depth with the description of the seizure itself. Please let me know if you'd like me to rewrite it because of this.

Includes: epilepsy/tonic clonic seizure, cannibalism and slight mention of death.

Tea time with Rosie was going as wonderful as ever, gossiping over your meal of several limbs. The main focus of the conversation was Susan and how she was being as irritating as ever. Everything was going smoothly.

Then you paused in the middle of raising food to your mouth, the dreaded feeling of a seizure coming. For a second you waited and rapidly blinked your eyes, praying it was a false alarm that would pass, but it didn't. You couldn't focus on Rosie's voice or features. Everything started to morph and distort. Her words repeated over and over in your mind like deja vu. It was as if you were caught in a reoccurring nightmare every time. Tears already threatened to spill as you felt it growing worse by the second. Muttering 'no' under your breath repeatedly

Rosie went silent at the sound of your food clattering against the plate and your murmer,"Darling?"

You covered your ears, signalling her to be silent and scrunched your eyes shut in a desperate attempt to stop the tricks your eyes were playing on you. The feeling of your head swirling forced a whimper from your throat. You were terrified. Every seizure felt like it was the last moment of your life.

You didn't want this to happen. You never wanted it to.

You heard Rosie's steps echo in your head and then the sudden feeling of her hands on your shoulder that made you flinch. She knew physical contact was out of the question in moments like this, but you needed to be guided elsewhere before it got worse. There was no chance she would leave you in that seat where you could fall and hit your head. That had happened in the past, with your first seizure. Any further injury during the seizure would cause more pain, she wanted to avoid that at all costs.

She laid you on your left side and went off to grab something to put under your head. By the time she had returned your small focal seizure had escalated into a tonic clonic. Her heart ached at the sight. Rosie could never get used to this, and neither could you. When she had settled your head on the pillow she had gone to fetch she knelt beside you. That's all she could do. Sit and watch your body stiffen and your limbs jerk while your eyes roll back and your lips turn blue. She so desperately wanted to cradle you in her arms and whisper that all would be well as she ran her fingers through your hair.

Even when you woke she couldn't do that. She would have to wait until you had calmed and fallen asleep, unless your stomach decided otherwise. It was unlikely you'd be sick, but the chance of it happening wasn't zero.

When you did come around and come to terms with what happened tears pricked at your eyes. The migraine had already started to settle in at the back of your eyes and so had the pain of inner cheeks from the gnashing. Thankfully, not your tongue this time.

Then you forgot it all. Your mind went blank but Rosie knew what was coming.

"What happened?" You asked in a daze, lifting your head then feeling the aching in your body.

"You've had a seizure, my sweet"

Your head flopped back as Rosie's words sunk and that process repeated a couple more times. You'd stare off momentarily, forgetting everything that had occurred, ask Rosie what had happened, and have a little cry. This part would determine how much the seizure had affected you, and with how many times this action repeated she gathered it would take you some time to fully recover. Perhaps a day or two at the least.

Once everything slipped from your mind one last time and you fell asleep Rosie moved you. With a hand under your legs and the second behind your back, she carried you to the bedroom making sure your limp head rested on her shoulder.

Only you were set down safely on the bed did she change you into some nightwear, the most embarrassing process of the seizures in your opinion. Yes, Rosie is your girlfriend and she had seen your body before, but that didn't make it any less humiliating. She handled you as like fine china or a porcelain doll, despite knowing not a single noise or movement would wake you. She tucked you into bed moving the few stray strands of hair behind your ear and pressed her lips against your temple.

Despite not wanting to leave your side she had to go clear the table and fetch the pain relief medication you'd be needing in the morning. She was quick to do those things and return to you.

At first, she sat in a chair facing the bed, reading whilst she watched over you, but she later decided she couldn't let you lay there alone with no comfort, so she got herself ready for bed. There was no reason she couldn't get some shuteye beside you, it was neither late nor early, therefore the perfect time to settle down for the night.

With herself changed for sleeping and your medication and drink on the bedside table, she snuggled up to you. She was the big spoon, as per usual. Her arms found purchase around your stomach and her face buried into your neck. She sighed, relieved you were still with her, and shut her eyes to join you in sleep.

For anyone who doesn't understand the description I have given for the seizure. Most of the time there is a lot of teeth grinding (in tonic-clonic/grand mals), resulting in the person's tongue and inner cheeks being bitten (sometimes causing bleeding). Around the lips will go blue, but that doesn't mean they're choking (unless they aren't on their side), so don't put your fingers in their mouth otherwise you'll get yourself hurt. You shouldn't restrain the twitching/jerking, try to wake them, move them during the seizure (unless absolutely necessary) or give them any food and drink until they have fully come around. Always lay the person on their side, in the recovery position. If they get to the five minute mark call an ambulance. SUDEP isn't common but can happen (research says 1 in 1000 people with epilepsy will die). Seizures aren't just about flashing lights and body jerking. There are different triggers and so many more types of seizures, each are different in their own way. They are embarrassing for the person and rob them of their freedom and independence. Please do your research.