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cheapshrimpysheep · 1 year ago

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Meaningful Kiss

SUMMARY: Would they make Public Displays of Affection? If not, are they protective instead? And how do they show you how much they truly love you through their kisses?

CHARACTERS: OB students (Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, Vil, Idia & Malleus)

TAGS: Bullet Points; Fluff; GN Reader; Established Relationship, Kissing, Flirting, Slightly Suggestive(?)

WORD COUNT: An average of 300 words per character.

COMMENTS: This has been a WIP for so long that I don't even remember how I got the idea to write it. And in my case, being a WIP for a long time means that I wrote one part and then went on to write something else and ended up forgetting about this one for a long time. 😅 But now I've finished it.

I hope you enjoy 💋

Meaningful Kiss 2 (Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Sebek)

Meaningful Kiss 3 (Ruggie, Jade, Kalim, Silver, Lilia)

Meaningful Kiss 4 (Cater, Trey, Floyd, Rook)

CONTEXT: You two are in an established relationship already.

Riddle is not really the PDA type. The most he would do with you in public could be walk arm in arm like you were royalty. In terms of kisses, a kiss on the back of your hand or, at the most, on your cheek.

When the two of you are alone on a normal day, he will probably be working on his student and Housewarden duties. But whenever you tell him he should take a break, he'll get up, sit next to you and hug you, like you're a charger.

If you're relaxing together, he’ll be reading a book with one arm around you. Either around your shoulders or around your waist, which you told him you like the most. He’ll also laying his head on your shoulder.

The most meaningful kisses are, of course, the kisses on your lips. He's not the type to kiss you on the lips just like a "good morning" thing. These kisses are always sweet and lovely. His hands would be on your cheeks to caress them.

He needs you, but his kisses aren't needy. They are the caring type. You are his precious rose. In contrast to his strict self, the way he shows you that he loves you is through soft affection and care.

A relationship with Leona Kingscholar comes with your rights and duties. Some of your rights: He will buy you things; you’re allowed to pet his ears; he will be your protector and you can sleep with him in his comfy bed and have breakfast in bed (he ordered someone to bring it to you two)

Some of your duties: let him use you as a pillow (be it your thighs in the greenhouse or your chest in bed.); don't be too annoying to him; dealing with his “smugness” on a daily basis and being his and his alone, the same way he's yours.

He's kinda into PDA, but more in the sense of telling anyone who might look at you with interest that you're his. Or anyone who looks down on you that if they do the slightest thing against you they will have to suffer at his claws. If the other person is a friend of yours, he'll let it go.

He has at least two types of kisses. The first is the “make out” kisses. When you're alone and he wants you (if you want him at the time too of course), he would give you deep kisses, kiss your neck and run his hands over you. Either he would make you sit on his lap our make you lie down with him.

His real meaningful kisses are the second ones. The "lazy" kisses. The first ones are linked to his pride. These second ones are much more affectionate. Usually happen when he's still sleepy, like when he just woke up from a good nap. He may lazily put his arms around you and kiss your cheek, neck, or shoulder gently. This is perhaps the most vulnerable state he will let you see. And so it will only happen in private.

Azul is also not very adept at PDA, but he is still capable of putting an arm around you and kissing your cheek to show how well he takes care of you.

He's already quite charming and pleasant with his potential clients, so with you it's not much different in public. The only difference is that with you it's genuine.

Do I need to say that dating him is like dating a Mafia Boss? AKA: Nobody disrespects my loved ones, unless they want a certain head in their beds when they wake up. (reference to The Godfather)

Being alone with him on a normal day would probably be being with him in his VIP room at Mostro Lounge. You're sitting on one of the couches while he's dealing with his paperwork. He’s probably the type that likes to be teased a little. So, when you see that he is no longer that attentive to the papers, go up to him, play with his hair, kiss his cheek, that will put him in the mood for you.

He’s the opposite of Leona. The kisses he usually gives you are sweet and charming like him. Because that's the side of him he want to show you the most. He'll kiss your cheek and lips affectionately. Let you sit on his lap. The side he most wants to show you is the confident and caring side. The one who shows you that you can trust him and that he will take care of you.

His most meaningful kiss is the opposite. The one related to his needy side. He shows you his most vulnerable side when he is the one who needs you. And that's what everything he does shows you. His kisses, his hugs, his begging look, all screaming “I need you! Please don’t leave me.”

Jamil is completely against PDA! He doesn't like to stand out or draw attention and PDA always do that to the people involved. He won't hold your hand or kiss you. To the point where no one knows if you're even dating or not.

The only way he would show his affection for you in public is if that is a way to protect you. If someone looks down on you and he feels that that persons can be a threat to you, he will show that he is an even greater threat to them. In these moments, his protective side is stronger. He is Kalim's protector by obligation, but yours by free will.

It's when you're alone that he'll make up for his lack of affection of the day. On a normal day, you would be alone in the kitchen. He would probably be cooking for Kalim, but making something for you two as well. He’ll let you taste things as he cooks. He feels more relaxed when he's with you and even more so when you hug him.

When you're relaxing together, he would spoil you. Give you soft and sweet kisses. Pet your head and play with your hair. Give you massages and feed you things like grapes or small snacks. Or even taking the first mouthful of food he made for you to your mouth and seeing your delighted face.

The most meaningful gestures of affection he shows you are related to his most lustful side (lust for power) when you are the one spoiling him. The one moment in his life where he is no longer the servant, but the master. This time, he kisses your lips, your neck and everything he's entitled to. He tends not to show his feelings but with you he will show how much he loves you and how much he wants you.

In reality, Vil neither likes nor dislikes PDA. He's kind of indifferent to it. The only reason he doesn't do it with you is because it would have bad consequences for both of you for his work as an actor and model. The most he can do is walk hand in hand with you.

Even though he doesn't show it much in public, everyone will know that you two are dating. He'll make sure of it, even if it's just information on the internet or him straight out saying it. On the one hand to protect you, because only an idiot would try to mess with Vil Schoenheit's partner. On the other hand to discourage anyone who has the slightest interest in you. “Honey, they’re with me. Do you really think you can even get to my heels? So, don't bother them.”

The only possible problem for you is that he's going to be more strict now that you're dating. From the outside it looks like he can be mean and demanding with you. But the truth is, he wants you to look your best so people know why he fell in love with you. He wants others to see on the outside how beautiful you are on the inside.

But of course, sometimes it's too much and you'll challenge him. Be stubborn and carefree. The best part? He's so into it! Your way of teasing each other.

He kisses you every now and then when you're alone. But when you put him on this mood, all his affection mix with boldness intensifies. Oh, of course, you wanted him to remind you what the reward is for listening to him. The answer is: appreciating you with the rest of his senses, sensual kisses on your lips, jaw, neck and shoulders; his hands running over your body, him delighting in your wearing the perfume he made for you. He'll show you how beautiful you are to him.

PDA is not even an option! There is no way! Na-a! Listen, Idia loves you, really, he promises BUT going with you to places where couples usually go is already a lot and holding hands is the absolute most he can do. IF that even happens.

He wouldn’t be the jealous type. If someone shows an interest in you, at least they have good taste. But if someone looks down on you or goes so far as to disrespect you, then he goes from 0 to 100. Do these worms know he can hack them? exposing things that can completely ruin their lives until the day they pass through the gates of the underworld? Ortho can help protect you in the meantime.

Since he is a 0 to 100 guy, his kisses are the same. His "0" kisses are lazy. Mainly light, on your shoulder and neck, because you would be sitting on his lap, chest to chest, while he plays on his PC and you on your phone on his back. He also gives you casual "hi" and "bye" kisses on the lips.

Then there is his "100" kisses. Those are the real meaningful kisses, the "I love you" kisses. They are passionate but kind. Because loving you is different for loving a game, it's like he found his balance. they are not needy, but appreciative, the real embodiment of "OMG, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!" He also becomes bolder as he feels comfortable with you. He loves to tease you until he makes you shut him up with a kiss. The stronger your relationship is, the more daring and smug he will be.

Malleus is quite indifferent to PDA. However, he is not the type to initiate the exchange of affection, but he is the type to reciprocate it. He won't kiss or hug you out of nowhere. But if you kiss or hug him, he will definitely reciprocate.

And he's going to be extremely casual about it. I mean, it's two lovers interacting with each other. As young humans would say: What's the big deal? However, he still distinguishes between the affection he gives you in public and the affection he gives you in private.

In public, his hugs are polite, and his kisses are light but loving.

In private, what he wants most is simply to be with you. He loves it when you sit on his lap and he cuddles you, and he likes it even more when you cuddle him back. He maintains his composure quite well, but you know that just your kisses on his checks already melt him inside.

His regular kisses in privet are sweet, loving, showing you that you are the most precious thing in his life. And very recurrent. He may not be the type to initiate the exchange of affection in public, but he certainly is in private.

All his kisses are meaningful, but the most meaningful of all are the one he gives you on your lips while smiling. The kind of kiss he can't stop himself from giving you. You may not even notice when they happen, because you are simply being yourself.

He feels the need to kiss you passionately when you do something that reminds him of why he fell in love with you. The moments when you do something that may seem simple, but for him it is something extraordinary. And if you don't realize at first how incredible that small gesture can be for him, it only makes you more charming.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

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gothcsz · 2 months ago

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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) 🖤

#pedro pascal #javier pena smut #javier peña smut #javier pena fic #javier peña fic #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfic #javier pena narcos #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña narcos #javier pena x you #javier peña x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfic

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writemekpop · 8 months ago

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All Night Long | Lee Jeno

Summary: You’re pregnant, and the baby’s kicking makes it impossible to sleep. Luckily, Jeno knows just how to take care of you.

Genre: Fluff, established relationship AU, Babydaddy!Jeno

Word count: <1k

KICK. KICK. KICK.

You stroked your baby bump.

“Let me sleep,” you whispered. But it was no use. Your baby was beating you up from the inside.

You looked over at your husband, Jeno, who was fast asleep. His cheek was squished into the pillow, and his soft brown hair stuck up in all directions. Even like this, he was beautiful. You watched his bare, muscled chest rise and fall in time with his soft breaths.

You burned with jealousy at how soundly he slept, while you had been tossing and turning for hours.

You cleared your throat way too loudly.

Jeno jolted awake.

He sat bolt upright, eyes still puffy.

“Is everything okay? Is it the baby?” Jeno asked, voice rough.

His hands found your bump instinctively, and he started tracing circles on your skin. Ever since he found out you were pregnant, Jeno hadn’t been able to keep his hands off you.

“Can’t sleep,” you pouted. “It’s the baby. He keeps kicking me in the ribs.”

You’d taken to wearing Jeno’s shirts in bed – they were the only thing that fit. His hand slipped under the white cotton, stroking your bare skin.

He gasped softly when he felt a sharp kick.

“It’s been like this all night.”

Jeno shuffled so that he was lying in between your legs. He lifted your shirt, exposing your entire tummy.

“Let me talk to him,” Jeno said. “Man to man.”

You giggled when Jeno pressed his lips to your tummy and started to whisper.

Soon, it was becoming too ticklish to bear. Jeno held you in place, his large hands on your hips. He was holding you firmly but gently, just like always.

“Time to sleep, little one. Now, I know your mama is hot shit, but you’ve got to let her rest too, okay?” Jeno whispered into your bump.

“Hey!” you whispered. “You can’t say… the s-word in front of him.”

Jeno chuckled. “Sorry buddy. We’re don’t want you to end up a potty mouth like your mother.”

You whacked a pillow on Jeno��s head, which only made his smile grow.

His calming voice seemed to be doing the trick, as the kicking subsided. Your eyelids started to feel heavy, the weight of the day finally catching up with you.

Jeno shuffled up the bed till he was lying beside you. He pulled the duvet over you both and nuzzled his head into your neck.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him smirk.

“I’m the only one that gets to keep mama up all night.”

—

MASTERLIST

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surielstea · 2 months ago

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“Just one more, baby.”

Kinktober day 1: Overstim + Praise

Pairing: Rhysand x Fem!Reader

Summary: Rhys is a sex god, that is all your honor

A. Note: First day of kinktober! Enjoy this Rhys fic that is simply 2k words of pure smut 💋♥️

2.3k words.

"C'mon baby, give me one more." My mate's words were distant, barely heard through barriers of hot pleasure.

"Rhys," I whimper, his name the only word I could form on my lips anymore. "Rhys," My brows bunch as sweat beads along my hairline.

My limbs were heavy with exertion, and my core throbbed with sensitivity. It felt too good to say it hurt, but gods was it too much.

"You're doing so well," He coos, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to my jaw, the featherlight touch like flames licking up my neck, heat encased me as if I was placed in a freshly put out furnace, and every touch like crackling embers on my bare skin.

"S'too much," I manage to get out, my voice raw and weak from pleading and moaning early this morning. I used the small amount of energy I had left to take a glance at the window, spotting the sun high in the sky— since dawn, he's had me beneath him like this since dawn. I lost track of how many times I had found release nearly hours ago.

Rhys had only reached that peak thrice, and when he was building that endurance back up he would use his mouth on me, there wasn't a moment where I wasn't attended to.

"Please," I cry out, "s'too much," I repeat, tears streaming down my cheeks as he delicately kissed them away, such gentleness in contrast to the way he had been pounding into me earlier.

"I know, I know darling," He murmurs, his voice a soft encouragement. "But you begged for this," He reminded. "Until you forget your own name, remember?" He nipped at the soft skin below my ear and I cried out, regretting my own words— but also thanking every god listening for a mate like this.

"Uh huh— I remember," I say breathlessly, nails scraping down his bare back, corded muscles shifting as he rolled his hips onto mine, his cock spearing into me relentlessly.

"Yeah? Tell me your name then," He suggests, moving his hand from my breast down my torso, and before I can answer his thumb finds my clit, rubbing in tight circles across the puffy, reddened bud. I gasped, my head falling back into the pillows.

I writhe, my body deflecting the overstimulation. "Yours," I rasp, my hands flowing into his dark locks. "I'm, I'm yours, Rhys."

"There she is, that's my good girl," He smiles against my neck, licking and nipping at my marked throat before sucking roughly at a highly sensitive area. I mewl at the sensation, every nerve in my body stretching taut as he continued his torturous ministrations around my clit.

"Please, please," I whine, my legs jolting with uncontrolled spasms.

"Please, what darling?" He prods, his husky voice like a velvet glove wrapped around my throat.

"Please, let me come," I beg. He grins viciously.

"Again, already?" He taunts and I whimper, my lower lip quivering as I prepared myself to plead, to grovel for that release I craved so ardently.

"Yes," I say through a breathless exhale. "Rhys I need, need it," I could hardly string together words, every sound I made another lewd moan.

He ignored my pleas and continued his torment to my pulsing core, his unrelenting and near-punishing movements sending me into a headspace one could only describe as full submission.

Rhys didn't let up, his hand working mercilessly between my legs while his cock hit a spot so deep I couldn't remember where I ended and he began. I was trembling beneath him, my entire body oversensitive, but the craving for release burned through every muscle.

"Rhys," I whimpered, the sound broken as my vision blurred with tears. "I can't—"

"You can," He purred, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. "And you will." The authority in his voice sent a shiver down my spine. I clung to him as though he were my only lifeline, nails raking down his back. His muscles shifted and flexed under my touch, and he groaned lowly at the pain mixed with pleasure, the primal sound making me pulse around him.

He knew exactly what he was doing—drawing me to the very edge of what I could handle and then pushing me beyond it.

My body was his to command, and the way his name fell from my lips like a desperate prayer proved it.

"You're mine," he whispered into my ear, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin just beneath. "Every part of you, mine."

I sobbed his name again, my back arching off the bed, muscles straining as I tried to escape the overwhelming pleasure. But Rhys' strong hands held me steady, firm, and inescapable as he pressed me deeper into the bed, his weight grounding me as my body shook with the effort of holding on.

"Atta girl," he murmured, and the praise sent a new wave of heat through my already blazing body. "You're doing so well for me. Just a little more, darling."

His thumb circled my clit faster, the friction against my swollen, overstimulated flesh making my vision blur. My hands flew to his shoulders, nails digging in as if trying to anchor myself, but Rhys barely reacted to the pain, his focus entirely on me. I could hear his breathing now, ragged and uneven, and the thought that he was just as affected as me made something primal coil in my chest.

Tears slipped from the corners of my eyes, mixing with the sheen of sweat on my flushed skin. I felt raw and undone, and yet the heat in my core refused to subside. Rhys pressed another kiss to my tear-streaked cheek, his lips featherlight against my skin, in direct contrast to the way his hips slammed into mine with a ferocity that made my entire body jolt.

"You're so beautiful like this," he said, his voice filled with a quiet reverence that made my heart stutter in my chest. "Completely mine, isn't that right?"

I could barely nod, the overstimulation making it impossible to form a coherent thought, let alone words. Every inch of my skin felt like it was on fire, too sensitive to bear another touch, but Rhys didn't stop. He wanted me like this—teetering on the edge of too much, completely at his mercy.

"Tell me," he commanded, his voice rough with need. "Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours," I sobbed, my voice shaking as another tremor of pleasure raced up my spine. "I'm—I'm yours, Rhys, yours."

His grip tightened on my thigh, pulling me closer until his cock was buried so deep inside me that it felt like he was part of me, like he was in my blood, in my very bones.

"So perfect," he praised, and the words washed over me like a balm, soothing the ache of pain even as he pushed me dangerously close to that edge I've already gone over a multitude of times. His pace quickened, and the sound of his skin slapping against mine filled the room, mingling with my ragged breaths and desperate moans.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful so fucked out like this, you love this don’t you?” His hot mouth ghosted my jaw. “Love being stretched out and filled up?”

I barely heard him, lost in the blinding pleasure. It coursed through every nerve, and my vision blurred with tears as my body trembled uncontrollably. But Rhys never let go, holding me steady, his hand still working my clit with maddening precision. Even as I tried to pull away from the overwhelming sensations, he kept me grounded, refusing to let me escape the pleasure.

"I—Rhys, please," I gasped, my voice breaking as the overstimulation bordered on unbearable. My legs shook, and I tried to close them, desperate for a reprieve, but my limbs felt boneless, and moving was impossible. His grip on my thigh tightened, sensing my protest and keeping me open and vulnerable beneath him.

"Just a little more, darling," he coerced, his breath hot against my ear. "You can take it, I know you can." His praise wrapped around me like a warm blanket, pulling me deeper into the haze of pleasure. Even as my body screamed for mercy, something in his voice soothed the ache, and made me want to give him everything.

"You're doing so well," he continued, his voice gentle now as if he knew I was teetering on the edge of my limits. "Such a good girl for me. Just one more, darling. I know you can give me one more."

I whimpered, my nails digging into his back as I clung to him, feeling like I might break apart at the seams. Rhys always knew exactly how to push me—just far enough to test my limits, but never so far that I couldn't handle it. And right now, his voice, his praise, was the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely.

"Please," I begged, my voice hoarse from crying out his name over and over. "Rhys, I—"

"I know," he soothed, his lips brushing over the tears staining my cheeks. "I know, darling. You can come. Let go f’me."

His thumb circled my clit with devastating precision, and my body betrayed me, a fresh wave of pleasure crashing through my already trembling frame. The orgasm hit me harder than any before, and I felt myself unraveling in Rhys' arms. My entire body tensed, my toes curling as another sob escaped from the back of my throat, my mind going blank as all I could feel was him—everywhere, inside and out.

"Good girl," he praised, his voice thick with satisfaction. "That's it, come for me. Give me everything, darling."

I shattered completely, the pleasure so intense that I couldn't even scream. My body convulsed around him, my nails raking down his back as I clung to him like he was the only thing anchoring me to the earth. And I clamped down, hard. He groaned at the pressure, even pulling out and pushing in was an effort I was so tight around his cock.

His muscled back shifted beneath my nails as his cock twitched against my sensitive walls, and then warmth flooded my fluttering core as he finally found his release, his seed seeping into each of my crevices, implanting inside of me thoroughly for the fourth time that day.

“So, so good. All for me, right?” He said, his voice raw and slightly groggy as he spoke beside my ear.

I nodded weakly, tears streaming down my face as my body sagged into the bed, completely spent. Every muscle felt limp, exhausted from the endless waves of pleasure, and my chest heaved as I struggled to catch my breath. But even as I fell apart, Rhys was there, his strong hands guiding me through every movement, his soothing words wrapping around me like silk.

"So beautiful," he whispered, his voice nurturing as he slowed his movements, finally giving me the mercy I so desperately needed. "You're so beautiful like this, darling. Completely mine."

I whimpered, barely able to respond, but he pressed a soft kiss to my lips, his mouth gentle against mine. "Shh, I've got you," he whispered. "You're safe, darling. You did so well."

His praise was endless, a constant stream of soft murmurs as he continued to press kisses to my flushed cheeks, my forehead, and the corner of my mouth. Each one felt like a reward, and even through the haze of exhaustion, I felt my heart swell at his words.

He held me close, his body still pressed against mine as he finally eased out of me, the loss of his warmth making me whimper. But Rhys was quick to soothe me, guiding my legs together, and allowing me to breathe a long sigh of relief.

"You were perfect," he murmured, sidling into the space beside me and pulling me close to his chest, as if unable to let me go after being connected all day. His fingers stroked through my hair as my breathing slowly steadied. "You always are."

I sighed, pressing my face into the crook of his neck, the warmth of his body and the soft praise in his voice lulling me into a comfortable haze. I felt safe, cherished, and completely undone in the best way possible.

I look into his dilated, violet eyes. Seeing only worry and admiration in that familiar gaze, none of the dark lust from earlier remained.

"Too much?" he asked, a hint of playful concern in his voice as his fingers traced lazy circles on my skin, over my hip, along my spine.

I managed a weak smile, eyes heavy with exhaustion. "Maybe just a little," I say, voice scratchy from screaming his name.

Rhys chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest and into my very heart. "I'll keep that in mind for next time." He murmured, pressing a loving kiss to my forehead.

I groaned lightly at the promise in his voice, but couldn't find the energy to do much more. He shifted, pulling a blanket over our naked bodies before shifting me more comfortably against him.

For a long while, neither of us spoke, content to simply bask in the aftermath of the moment. My eyes fluttered closed, but before I could drift off completely, I felt Rhys's fingers tangle in my hair, his voice a soft murmur against the quiet.

"I love you," he said, his tone serious now, reverent.

My heart stuttered in my chest at the tender emotion in his voice, my eyes blinking open to find him staring down at me with that deep, endless devotion.

"I love you too," I whispered, barely able to find my voice.

He smiled then, the kind of smile that melted the world away, making me feel like nothing else mattered but this moment, the two of us wrapped up in each other. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my lips—gentle this time, doting. And at that moment, with my heart still racing from the pleasure and the love swirling between us, I knew there was nowhere else I’d rather be.

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pucksandpower · 1 month ago

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Mint Condition

Day 20 → Menthol Cream 💋 Oscar Piastri

Warnings: 18+ content

Kinktober Masterlist

Oscar stands in front of the mirror, his shirt pulled halfway over his head, wincing as he twists his torso a bit too fast. That familiar sharpness shoots through his side, the one he’s been ignoring all day. His rib is still busted, still sore as hell. He drops his shirt on the floor, tired of fighting with it, and glances at the small jar of menthol cream sitting on the bathroom counter.

His eyes flick to the bed, where you're propped up against the pillows, nose buried in a book. The dim light from the lamp casts a soft glow over your face, your lips slightly parted as your thumb traces the edge of the page, but what catches his attention is how your nightgown is slipping, barely covering you.

“What's that look for?” You ask, not even glancing up, sensing him staring.

Oscar smiles a little, wiping it away before you can catch him. “What look?”

“The one you're giving me.” You finally put the book down, your eyes meeting his in the reflection. “You’re thinking something.”

Oscar opens the jar, pretending to be more focused on scooping out the thick, mint-scented cream than the fact that your eyes are on him. “Just … thinking I should have been more careful. Could have avoided this whole thing,” he mutters, rubbing the cool cream over his ribs, trying to be casual about it.

You roll your eyes, shifting in bed, pulling the duvet tighter around your shoulders. “You did your job, Oscar. Sometimes things happen. Doesn't mean you need to beat yourself up over it.” There’s a pause, and then your voice drops, softer now. “You're always too hard on yourself.”

He nods, but his attention is elsewhere, on the way your nightgown has slipped even further, revealing more of you — barely there under the light fabric. Something stirs in his chest, not the ache of his ribs but something more … magnetic. His hands slow, smoothing the cream over his skin, and the smell of menthol fills the air, sharp and cool.

“You want me to put some on for you?” You ask, breaking his thoughts, your tone so casual it takes him a second to catch up.

“Huh?”

“The cream,” you say, tilting your head. “You’re moving so slow. I can help if-”

“No, no, I’ve got it.” His voice comes out too quickly, and you raise a brow, noticing.

He clears his throat, finishing up, capping the jar and walking over to the bed, trying to keep his movements easy, natural. But his mind is elsewhere now — wondering what would happen if he did try it. How it would feel. If you’d laugh or look at him like he’s lost it.

He sits on the edge of the bed, rubbing his ribs absently. “You think I’m too hard on myself?”

“Yeah. You act like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders.” You close the book, setting it aside. “Like you’re the only one who has to get everything perfect.”

Oscar leans back, slowly easing himself into bed next to you. “Maybe that’s because everyone expects me to.”

You shake your head, sliding down the pillows a bit so you’re lying next to him, your head on his shoulder. “Not everyone. I don’t.”

He turns his head to look at you. “You don't think I should try to be perfect?”

“No one’s perfect,” you say simply, fingers absentmindedly tracing the hem of his shirt, which is now bunched up around his waist. “Not even you.”

He huffs a small laugh, though the thought nags at him. Maybe you’re right. Maybe he's been chasing something impossible, driving himself crazy in the process. But right now, in this moment, perfection feels closer than it ever has, lying here with you like this.

“I’m serious.” You shift so you’re propped up on one elbow, looking down at him. “You don't have to carry everything all the time. Sometimes it’s okay to let go.”

He blinks up at you, the words hanging in the air between you, and suddenly all he can think about is the feel of your skin under his fingers, the way you’re so close, the smell of that damn menthol cream still clinging to his hands.

You’re still talking, still trying to comfort him, but he’s distracted, watching your lips move, and his brain is running a mile a minute with this idea, this stupid, reckless idea.

Would you even like it? Would you even let him?

“You good?” Your voice cuts through the fog, and he realizes he’s just been staring at you. Your brow furrows slightly. “You’re being quiet.”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” His voice is lower than he means it to be, almost rough.

You’re still staring at him, searching his face. “Oscar, what’s going on? You’re acting weird.”

He’s quiet for a beat, his heart thudding in his chest. “It’s nothing.” But he knows that won’t fly. Not with you. You know him too well.

Your hand comes to rest on his chest, your fingers warm and familiar. “Tell me.”

He takes a breath. He should just say it. Just tell you what he’s thinking instead of sitting here with his mind spinning like this. But how do you even say something like that without sounding insane?

“I was just …” He hesitates, his fingers brushing over his ribs again, trying to find the words. “I was thinking about … the cream.”

You blink at him, confused. “The cream?”

He nods, his mouth dry. “Yeah. It’s just … I was wondering what it would feel like. On you.”

The words hang in the air, and for a second he thinks maybe he’s made a huge mistake, that you’re about to laugh or roll your eyes or something, but you don’t. You just look at him, really look at him, and for a second, neither of you says anything.

Finally, you break the silence. “You want to try it on me?”

His heart leaps a little, but he tries to stay calm, not wanting to seem too eager. “Only if you want to.”

You bite your lip, thinking it over, and then, to his surprise, you nod. “Okay.”

Oscar’s hand freezes on the jar as he processes what you’ve just said. He expected you to laugh it off, to shrug and change the subject, but you’re serious. You’re really letting him do this.

You shift under the covers, tugging your nightgown higher to give him better access, and he sits up, fumbling slightly with the lid as he tries to get it open without spilling any. His mind races as he scoops out a little of the cream, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Tell me if it’s too cold,” he murmurs, his voice low, barely above a whisper.

You nod, lying back against the pillows, your eyes half-closed as you wait. He leans in closer, the scent of menthol filling the air again as he smooths the cream over your skin, his fingers moving slowly, deliberately. Your skin is soft under his touch, warm, and the cream feels almost electric between you.

You shiver a little at the cold, but you don’t pull away, your breath hitching as his fingers move over you, tracing the curve of your ribs, up toward your collarbone, and then lower, spreading the cool sensation across your skin.

“How does it feel?” He asks, his voice thick.

You swallow, eyes still closed. “Good. Feels good.”

He can’t help but grin, his heart racing at the way you react to him, the way you seem to melt under his touch. It’s intoxicating, the way your body responds to him, the way you let him take care of you like this, and he realizes just how much he’s been craving this kind of connection with you, this moment of quiet intimacy between the two of you.

You shift a little, your body pressing against his as you turn toward him, your hand coming to rest on his chest again, your fingers brushing against his ribs. “You okay?” You ask softly, your voice gentle.

“Yeah,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss you, his lips brushing against yours in a slow, lingering kiss. “I’m good.”

Oscar hesitates, his hands still resting on your skin. The air between you feels thick, the weight of what’s happening settling over him, but he doesn’t feel nervous. Not really. It’s more like anticipation, like every inch of his body is tuned into you, hyper-aware of every breath, every shift, every little sound you make. He watches you carefully, waiting for any sign that you’re unsure, that this is too much. But you just look back at him, your eyes half-lidded, and your lips parted slightly.

“You sure about this?” He asks quietly, his voice rough around the edges.

You don’t even hesitate. “Yeah.” Your voice is soft, but certain.

Oscar swallows hard and nods, his fingers slipping under the edge of your nightgown. He pauses, just for a second, before starting to ease it up, the fabric whispering against your skin as he pulls it over your stomach, then your chest, and finally over your head, tossing it aside.

His breath catches as he looks at you — completely exposed now, lying back against the pillows, trusting him with all of this. It’s almost too much to take in all at once. He has to remind himself to keep moving, to keep breathing.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, almost to himself, his eyes trailing down your body, taking everything in. The way your chest rises and falls, the slight tension in your muscles as you wait for him to touch you again. He feels a tight pull in his chest, the kind of feeling that makes everything else blur, as though his entire focus has narrowed down to just this, just you.

Your skin feels warm under his touch, still tingling from the menthol cream, and he can’t help but feel a little thrill at the idea of what’s coming next. His fingers tremble slightly as he dips them back into the jar, scooping out more of the cream, his mind already imagining how it’s going to feel on you, how you’re going to react.

“You okay?” You ask softly, your voice pulling him back to the moment.

“Yeah,” he says, clearing his throat. “Just … trying to take my time.”

You smile at that, and something about the way you look at him right then makes his heart stutter in his chest. There’s no rush, no urgency. Just the two of you, here, together, in this quiet little world you’ve made.

He shifts, leaning over you, his hands hovering just above your chest, and for a second, he just looks at you. Then, slowly, he lowers his hands, spreading the cool cream over your skin, starting at the tops of your breasts and working his way down, his fingers moving with deliberate care.

You gasp softly, your back arching slightly at the sudden cold, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you lean into his touch, your breath hitching as his hands move lower, spreading the cream over your buds. Oscar watches, completely captivated by the way your body reacts, the way your skin tightens under his touch, the way your nipples start to harden, turning that perfect shade of pink.

“Jesus,” he breathes, his voice barely audible. “You look … you’re perfect.”

You let out a soft laugh, though it quickly turns into a shaky breath as his fingers move over you again, spreading more of the cream over your skin, lingering on your buds. He’s obsessed now, can’t stop staring at them, watching as they harden even more, turning a deeper shade of pink, almost like raspberries.

“How does it feel?” He asks, his voice low, almost a whisper.

You let out a soft moan, your head tilting back against the pillows. “Cold … but good. Really good.”

He grins, his heart pounding in his chest as he moves his hands lower, down your stomach, and then back up, focusing entirely on your chest, on the way your body seems to pulse under his touch. His fingers linger on your nipples, circling them slowly, gently, and he watches in awe as they respond to him, becoming more and more sensitive with every touch, every brush of his fingers.

“God, you’re amazing,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, his eyes never leaving your chest.

You let out another soft sound, somewhere between a moan and a sigh, and it sends a thrill through him, knowing he’s the one doing this to you, that you’re letting him take care of you like this. He shifts again, leaning down slightly, his breath ghosting over your skin as he presses his lips to the curve of your breast, kissing the spot just above your peak.

“Oscar,” you breathe, your voice shaky.

“Yeah?” He murmurs, his lips still brushing against your skin.

“Don’t stop.”

He grins at that, his hands moving lower now, down your sides, over your hips, and then back up again, his fingers brushing over your stomach, your chest, everywhere. He’s completely lost in you now, in the way you feel under his touch, in the way you respond to him.

He moves back slightly, sitting up again as he reaches for the duvet, pulling it off the bed and tossing it to the floor. The air feels cooler now without the covers, and you shiver slightly, but it’s not just from the cold. He watches as your body trembles, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your skin flushed from the coolness of the cream and the heat building between you.

“Cold?” He asks, though he knows the answer. He can see it in the way your body reacts, the way you flutter beneath him, your skin covered in goosebumps.

“A little,” you admit, your voice soft, breathy.

He leans down again, his lips brushing against your collarbone as his hands move lower, his fingers tracing the line of your hips, your thighs. He can feel the tension in your body, the way you’re practically vibrating under his touch, and it drives him wild, makes him want to take his time even more, to make this last as long as possible.

He dips his fingers back into the jar of cream, scooping out more as he moves lower, his hands brushing over your inner thighs now, spreading the cream there, careful and deliberate. You let out a soft gasp, your back arching slightly off the bed, and Oscar can’t help but smile at the sound, the way your body responds to him so easily.

His fingers move higher now, spreading the cream over your bundle of nerves, and you let out a sharp gasp, your body jerking under his touch. He watches, completely captivated, as your clit starts to pulse, the skin tightening, turning a deeper shade of pink, almost red now, like a cherry, ripe and ready.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with awe. “You’re … you’re a goddess.”

You let out a soft moan, your body trembling under his touch, your breath coming in short, shallow bursts. “Oscar …”

He grins, his hands moving over you again, spreading more of the cream over your pearl, watching as it pulses under his touch, the skin glistening with the cream, the coolness making you shiver even more.

“Does it feel good?” He asks, his voice low, rough.

You nod, your eyes half-closed, your breath coming in quick, shaky gasps. “Yeah … it feels … God, it feels so good.”

He can’t stop now, can’t get enough of the way your body reacts to him, the way you seem to pulse and flutter under his touch. He watches, completely mesmerized, as your clit swells even more, the skin darkening to that perfect shade of red, just begging to be touched, tasted.

He leans down again, his lips brushing against your skin, his breath hot against your chest. “You’re incredible,” he whispers, his hands still moving over you, his fingers tracing your bundle, feeling the way it pulses under his touch.

You let out another soft moan, your body trembling even more, your chest rising and falling rapidly as your breath hitches in your throat. “Oscar … please …”

He knows what you’re asking for, knows exactly what you need, but he’s not ready to give in just yet. He wants to make this last, to draw it out as long as possible, to keep you on the edge for as long as he can.

“Not yet,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “I want to watch you a little longer.”

You let out a soft whimper, but you don’t argue, your body still trembling under his touch, your clit still pulsing, almost like it has a mind of its own, responding to his every movement.

Oscar leans back slightly, his eyes never leaving your body, completely captivated by the way you look right now, the way your skin glistens with the cream, the way your clit pulses under his touch, like it’s begging for him to take it.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers again, his voice barely audible over the sound of your ragged breathing. “Absolutely perfect.”

Oscar watches you, completely captivated by the way you’re losing yourself in the sensation, your head tilted back, your eyes closed, your breath coming in shallow gasps. He can see how far gone you are, how the cool menthol cream has you teetering on the edge, your skin flushed, chest rising and falling rapidly as every little touch sends you spiraling further.

Your body is trembling beneath his hands, reacting to every brush of his fingers as if it’s too much and not enough all at once. He can see the way your pearl throbs, the way your chest arches as if you’re chasing something, needing more but not sure how to ask for it.

You’re unfocused now, completely surrendered to the feeling, and he takes a deep breath, his heart racing as he shifts slightly, giving himself just a second to gather his thoughts. This is everything he’s ever wanted, everything he’s been thinking about, but now that he’s here, right on the edge of something, the weight of the moment hits him. There’s no going back after this.

He glances at you again, just to make sure you’re still okay, that you’re still with him, but your eyes are closed, your lips parted as you let out another soft sound, completely unaware of what’s coming next.

Oscar bites his lip, his fingers fumbling slightly as he reaches for the bedside drawer, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts at once. This is the moment he’s been building toward, but now that it’s here, his heart is pounding so hard he can feel it in his throat. He hesitates for just a second, his fingers trembling as they brush over the small foil packet.

His eyes flick back to you, but you’re still lost in the sensation, your head tilted back, chest heaving. He swallows hard, ripping open the packet and rolling the condom down over himself, his breath hitching as he feels the cool latex against his skin. It’s almost too much, the mix of anticipation and nerves making him feel like his heart is going to burst out of his chest.

He hesitates again, his eyes darting between the jar of menthol cream on the nightstand and the flutter of your walls, still reacting to his earlier touch. His mind spins with the idea, something reckless, something he knows he shouldn’t do but can’t resist. He scoops out a bit more of the cream, his hand shaking slightly as he spreads it over the latex, covering it in the same thing that’s been driving you crazy.

His breath catches, and for a second, he wonders if this is too much, if maybe he’s pushing things too far. But you’re still lost in your own world, completely unaware, completely vulnerable beneath him. He swallows hard, his mind buzzing with excitement and nerves as he shifts closer, his body hovering over yours.

“You okay?” He asks softly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You nod, though your eyes stay closed, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps. “Yeah,” you murmur, your voice thick with the haze of pleasure. “I’m … I’m okay.”

Oscar takes a deep breath, steadying himself as he lines himself up with you, his hands trembling slightly as he presses forward, the cool, tingling sensation spreading through you as he slides in.

You gasp sharply, your eyes flying open, and for a moment, Oscar thinks he’s made a mistake, that it’s too much, too overwhelming. But then your body arches against him, a soft moan escaping your lips as you bury your face in his shoulder, your hands gripping his arms tightly.

“Oscar …”

He grins, the sound of your voice, the way you say his name, sending a thrill through him. “Feel good?” He asks, his voice rough as he pushes in further, the cool menthol sensation making your skin tingle, every inch of you hypersensitive to the way his body moves above you.

You can only manage a soft whimper in response, your nails digging into his arms as you nod, your breath coming in ragged gasps. “Yeah … oh my God … it feels … so good.”

Oscar’s heart races as he moves, his hips rolling in slow, deliberate thrusts as he watches your face, completely mesmerized by the way your expression changes, the way your body responds to him. You’re still trembling, still fluttering beneath him, your eyes half-closed as the pleasure takes over, and he can see the way the menthol cream is affecting you, the coolness amplifying every sensation, making your body tense and arch beneath him.

He bites his lip, trying to keep himself under control, but it’s hard — harder than he expected. The cool tingling of the menthol, combined with the heat of your body, is almost overwhelming, and every little sound you make, every soft gasp and moan, sends him spiraling further.

“Tell me how it feels,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire as he watches you, his hands gripping your hips as he thrusts deeper.

You let out a shaky breath, your eyes fluttering shut again as you try to focus, but it’s clear you’re too far gone, too lost in the sensation to form coherent words. “I can’t … it’s too … oh God …”

Oscar can’t help but grin at that, a sense of pride swelling in his chest at the way he’s undone you, the way you’ve completely surrendered to him. He leans down, pressing his lips to your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he murmurs softly, “I’ve got you. Just let go.”

You nod, your fingers tangling in his hair as your breath comes in quick, uneven gasps, your body trembling beneath him as you cling to him, your nails biting into his skin. The cool sensation of the cream on your skin, combined with the slow, deliberate rhythm of his movements, is pushing you closer and closer to the edge, and Oscar can feel it — can see it in the way your body tenses and arches beneath him, the way your breath hitches every time he moves.

He moves a little faster now, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he watches your face, completely captivated by the way your expression shifts, the way your body pulses and trembles beneath him. It’s intoxicating, the way you’ve given yourself over to him, the way you trust him completely, and it drives him wild, makes him want to push you even further, to see how far he can take you.

“You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough as he leans down, kissing the curve of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “God, you’re amazing.”

You let out a soft moan, your body arching against him as you gasp his name, your voice shaky, breathless. “Oscar … I’m … I’m so close …”

He grins, his heart racing as he moves faster, his hands gripping you tightly as he thrusts deeper, the cool, tingling sensation spreading through both of you as the cream amplifies every touch, every movement. He can feel it too now, that same edge, that same sense of urgency building inside him, but he pushes it down, focusing entirely on you, on the way your body moves beneath him, the way your breath catches every time he thrusts.

“Come on,” he murmurs, his voice rough, thick with desire as he watches you, completely captivated by the way you’re unraveling beneath him. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

You gasp his name again, your body trembling, your breath coming in quick, shallow gasps as you cling to him, your nails biting into his skin. And then, all at once, you let go, your body tensing and arching beneath him as the pleasure overtakes you, a soft cry escaping your lips as you bury your face in his shoulder, your whole body trembling with the force of it.

Oscar grits his teeth, his heart pounding in his chest as he watches you, completely mesmerized by the way you come undone beneath him, the way your body pulses and trembles with every wave of pleasure. He’s never seen anything like it, never felt anything like this, and it sends him over the edge, his body tightening, his breath catching in his throat as he gives in, his hips bucking against yours as the pleasure crashes over him.

For a moment, neither of you moves, your bodies tangled together, your breath coming in quick, uneven gasps as the aftershocks of pleasure ripple through both of you. Oscar presses his forehead against yours, his breath hot and heavy as he tries to steady himself, his heart still racing, his skin still tingling from the menthol cream.

“You okay?” He asks softly, his voice hoarse, rough around the edges.

You nod, your eyes still closed, your breath coming in shaky, uneven bursts. “Yeah … I’m good. That was …”

Oscar grins, his hands still resting on your hips as he watches you, completely captivated by the way you look right now — flushed, breathless, completely spent. “That was amazing. First time I’ve ever been thankful to have a fractured rib.”

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amirasainz · 2 months ago

Note

Hiiii,

Can i request a max verstappen x reader where Max spoils them for their birthday or something, and just gives them a buttload of presents, with some morning cuddles please

Enjoy reading and send some requests

-xoxo, Babygirl 💋

A birthday for a queen

It was Yn’s 22nd birthday, and Max had been planning this day for months. He wanted everything to be perfect for the woman who made every single day of his life brighter. The night before, he could hardly sleep, thinking about all the surprises he had lined up for her. Finally, the morning came, and the first rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains. He glanced over at her, sleeping peacefully, her hair fanned out on the pillow, her lips parted slightly in a soft smile even in her dreams.

Max grinned. Today’s the day.

He carefully shifted under the covers, moving closer to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Yn stirred slightly but didn’t wake. Gently, Max pressed a kiss to her shoulder, then to her neck.

“Morning, birthday girl,” he whispered against her skin, his lips brushing her ear.

Yn sighed softly, still half-asleep, but a smile tugged at her lips as she felt his warmth surround her. “Mmm, morning,” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

Max chuckled and shifted so he could look at her. “Happy birthday, beautiful,” he said, his voice tender. “How does it feel to be 22?”

Her eyes fluttered open, and the first thing she saw was his beaming face inches from hers. “It feels… perfect,” she whispered, still waking up. “Especially waking up like this.” She leaned into him, pressing a lazy kiss to his lips.

Max’s heart swelled as he kissed her back, slow and tender, savoring the moment. “I’ve got so many things planned for you today,” he said when they finally pulled away, their foreheads touching, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

“Oh yeah?” she teased, her eyes sparkling now that she was fully awake. “And what makes you think I’ll even get out of bed today?”

He laughed, pulling her closer, burying his face in the crook of her neck. “Well, I’m starting the day off with something that might make it hard for you to want to leave.” He gave her another kiss, making her giggle.

“Max!” she playfully swatted at him, but her laughter turned into a soft sigh as he kissed her again, slow and lingering. His lips felt like they were made for hers, like they fit together so perfectly it was hard to believe they hadn’t known each other forever.

He pulled away, just enough to speak, his eyes soft. “I love you, Yn.”

Her heart melted at his words, the sincerity in his voice. “I love you too, Max. More than anything.”

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, the world outside their bedroom feeling like it didn’t exist. Max had made it a point to ensure this day was going to be all about her, and he was starting it off right—with endless affection.

Eventually, Max untangled himself from their embrace, but only just. “Okay, okay,” he said, sitting up and running a hand through his messy hair. “Stay right here. I’ll be back in a second.”

Yn watched him with a curious smile as he disappeared into the hallway. She pulled the covers up around her and leaned back against the pillows, wondering what he was up to. A few minutes later, she heard his footsteps again. Then, he reappeared, carefully balancing a tray in his hands.

Her eyes widened as he approached. “Max… did you—”

“Breakfast in bed for the birthday girl,” he announced proudly, setting the tray down in front of her. On it was her favorite—pancakes stacked high with fresh berries and whipped cream, a side of scrambled eggs and crispy bacon, and a glass of orange juice. It smelled amazing.

“You really didn’t have to,” Yn said, but her smile gave away just how happy she was.

Max shrugged, sitting beside her on the bed. “I wanted to. And besides, you deserve to be spoiled today.”

She reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “I feel so lucky,” she said, her eyes filled with love as she looked at him.

“No, I’m the lucky one,” he said, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand.

They ate together, Max stealing a few bites from her plate, making her laugh when he got whipped cream on his nose. After breakfast, he leaned back, watching her, his expression filled with excitement.

“I’m not done yet,” he said, standing up and walking over to the dresser.

Yn raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? There’s more?”

“Oh, just a few things,” he said casually, but the grin on his face told her he had something big planned.

He came back, holding a large shopping bag, and her eyes widened when she saw the familiar designer logos printed on the front.

“Max, what did you do?” she asked, laughing as he sat back down and handed her the bag.

“Open it and find out,” he said, his eyes shining with excitement.

She reached into the bag and pulled out the first item—a stunning Gucci handbag in a sleek black leather with gold accents. Her jaw dropped.

“Max… this is gorgeous!” she exclaimed, running her fingers over the soft leather.

“I thought you’d like it,” he said with a proud grin. “But wait, there’s more.”

She dug deeper into the bag, pulling out item after item—each one more beautiful than the last. A pair of Christian Louboutin heels in a perfect blush pink. A delicate Chanel necklace that sparkled in the morning light. A silk Versace scarf in her favorite color. Each piece was more stunning than the last, and Yn couldn’t believe her eyes.

“Max… this is too much,” she said, her voice filled with awe as she looked at the gifts spread out in front of her.

“Nothing is too much for you,” he said, his tone serious now. “You deserve everything, Yn. I wanted to spoil you today because you make every day better just by being you.”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at him, her heart so full it felt like it might burst. “You’re incredible,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him again. “Thank you, Max. For everything.”

He kissed her back, his hand cupping her cheek, and when they finally pulled away, he had a mischievous glint in his eyes. “There’s one more thing,” he said, standing up and holding out his hand for her.

Yn looked at him, confused but excited. “More? Max, you’ve already done so much.”

“I promise, this one’s worth it,” he said with a grin, pulling her up from the bed.

They walked hand in hand to the door, and Max led her outside. The moment they stepped onto the driveway, Yn gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

Parked in front of the house was a brand-new, bubblegum pink Lamborghini, its sleek curves gleaming in the sunlight.

“Max!” she exclaimed, her voice breathless with shock. “Is this… for me?”

He nodded, grinning from ear to ear. “Happy birthday, Yn.”

Tears spilled over her cheeks as she turned to him, completely overwhelmed. “I can’t believe this,” she whispered, looking between him and the car. “You really got me a Lamborghini?”

“Only the best for you,” he said, wrapping his arms around her from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder. “I know you’ve always wanted one.”

Yn turned in his arms, her hands resting on his chest as she looked up at him, her eyes filled with love and gratitude. “I don’t even know what to say,” she whispered. “This is… this is more than I ever could have imagined.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Max said softly, brushing his thumb across her cheek. “Just seeing you happy is enough for me.”

“I’m more than happy,” she said, pulling him into a deep kiss. “I’m the luckiest girl in the world.”

They stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, the pink Lamborghini gleaming beside them. Yn couldn’t believe how much love she felt in that moment—how much Max had done to make her birthday unforgettable.

“I love you, Max,” she whispered against his lips.

“I love you too, Yn,” he whispered back. “Always.”

And with that, they kissed again, sealing the perfect start to what would be an unforgettable day.

#formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #xoxo babygirl 💋#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen #birthday #lando norris x reader #f1 x reader

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eyesxxyou · 3 months ago

Text

First Time 💋

🩸・・・l. howlett x fem!reader

rating. m

word count. 3.5k

synopsis. you were everything logan shouldn't want. young, religious, and innocent. you were sweet to everyone. and you've never been touched. logan wants to be your first everything.

warnings. age gap relationship (reader is 21, Logan is nearing 50) , religious reader, innocent reader, explicit consent, blood, taking of virginity, a bit of toxic relationship dynamics, logan is not a good person, not edited

↳ pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.3

You were dealing with the devil in disguise and you didn't even know it. For even the devil was once an angel, the most beautiful angel in heaven. That’s the way he tempts even the purest souls into damnation. And you were his latest victim.

Your purity was hanging by the thinnest thread called “virginity” which you were steadfast in not giving up. Logan wasn't pushing it by any means. Slowly but surely, you were giving up pieces of yourself to him. Giving away slices of your precious soul until before even you knew it, you had given him your entire cake. In fact, he had taught you how to give a blow job, confined you to let him hump against your clothed pussy, then eventually against the bare thing.

Logan was growing ever closer to obtaining you, possessing you wholly.

You had already gone home for the night when there was a steady, polite knock at his door. Logan, with a cigar hanging from between his lips, initially thought it was you. That was how you knocked, with a small rhythm and a tender politeness.

But much to his dismay, when he opened the door, Logan found that it was not you, but your father standing before him, still dressed in his Sunday best.

Now, for a moment, Logan thought that this was it. You had either been caught or in some sort of religious guilt, you had confessed everything. Either way, he was sure he had been busted and your father had come to wreak havoc upon him. Either way, he wasn't scared. At the end of the day you were two grown people who had made their decisions.

“Mr. Howlett, nice to see you again.” Your father smiled. There was no malice or ill intent. You were both in the clear. Logan took his cigar from his mouth and put it out in the ashtray beside the door. “I hope I’m not disturbing your night.” He could see where you got your politeness from. Your father was a good, mild-mannered man. Average on all accounts. But he made a spectacular girl of you.

“Not at all, Reverend.”

Your father, with his hands crossed nicely at his front, was smiling politely. Logan wondered if he knew you had just been here. He wondered if he knew that he had his daughter on her knees with his dick in her mouth. Did he know that he came on your face? Did he know that your mouth felt like heaven?

“I was wondering if you could come by my house tomorrow. Unfortunately we have a bit of an issue with the pipes in our kitchen. I wanted to know if you could take a look.” It was innocent enough but the idea of being in your house made Logan almost swell and explode. He tried to hide the smile, the enthusiasm behind his “sure, I can take a look”.

“Great, thank you for your kindness, Mr. Howlett.” Logan can almost hear your voice in his. Small, quaint, unassuming. “You can come over in the morning. My family and I will be out but we'll leave the door unlocked so you can get in.”

Logan closed the door as your father walked off his porch, already looking forward to tomorrow morning. He thought of how he’d make his way through your house, into your room. He imagined going into your drawers and taking a pair of your pretty little panties to keep for himself. He imagined getting in your bed and jerking off until he came, right on your pillow.

He was up bright and early the next morning. With a small handle of whiskey to wake him up, Logan was out the door by 10 am with his toolbag in hand, a cigar hidden away so he could smoke out the back when he needed to take a break.

Your house was far different than his, bigger, painted a light blue with pastel yellow shudders and a white trim. It was the picture perfect house containing a picture perfect family. What a terrible person he must be to infiltrate such a home.

Your Father said the door would be unlocked. Your family car wasn't in the driveway, you all must have left already. Logan, with laborious steps, made his way up your porch, white wood, a few rocking chairs and a table where you must have put out lemonade and watched the sun go down.

He welcomed himself inside. Your house smelled like wilting roses and antiques. There were crosses everywhere, Bible verses on boards and Rae Dunn as far as the eye could see. Standard, religious, suburban home. He saw nothing out of place from your old brown couch to your wallpaper, pretty and bright.

Logan considered if he should work on your faulty pipes first or take his sick pleasure in your room. After a moment, he adjusted his grip on his toolbag and made his way through your living room and into your kitchen. He’d wait until he got the job done, then take his sweet time in your room. He’d make it a reward.

As it turns out, it was quite simple. You had the wrong piece for the pipe under your kitchen sink and it was connected incorrectly. Logan was halfway beneath your sink when he heard bare feet padding about the hardwood in the living room. He came out, a large hand on the counter to help himself up. His bones weren't what they used to be.

You had come rounding the corner into the tiled kitchen, dressed in nothing but a pretty, little, pale, pink nightgown that stopped at your mid-thigh. You paused at the sight of him, eyes wide and startled like a deer in headlights. “Mr. Howlett?” Sweet little thing, your arms went to cross over your chest, obviously not covered by a bra as he could see the peaks of your nipples poking against the fabric.

Stumbling back a bit, you swallowed. “What are you– my dad said you wouldn't be here until later when he came back.” You watched with your fawn eyes as he stood with a grunt in his white tank top, rough, blue jeans, and steel-toed boots. You were vulnerable, fully and entirely. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Naked under your nightgown besides just a pair of tiny panties.

“Wanted to get this out of the way. Didn't think you’d be here, doll.” Logan took a step towards you and you didn't dare take one back. Your gaze flickered to the side. “I was gonna go but I wasn't feeling well.” You’re all soft and meek and sweet. As if to prove your point, you let out a little cough. He could just devour you.

Logan looked back at his work. “Well– I figured out what's wrong. Should be a simple fix once I get the right part for it.” He looked back to you, eyes all soft. “I'm free for the rest of the day, babydoll.” You know what he was trying to get at. You were home alone, practically naked, the idea wasn't so far beyond you anymore.

You bit your lip. “You want to see my bedroom? I just redid it.”

A smile twitched at Logan's lip. “Yeah, doll. Show me your bedroom.” You reached out and took his hand in yours, large and calloused. You guided him with your padded feet, occasionally looking back at him as if he’d disappear from behind you. If you were Orpheus, he’d already be gone by now.

You took him up the stairs and around the banister into your room done up in white, floral wallpaper. Your bed was neatly made with a single giant stuffed bear sitting against the pillows. It was obviously old and well-loved. Your room was just like you, soft and quaint.

Letting go of his hand, you went and you sat on the edge of your bed while Logan took his time examining this space you call yours. “It’s nice, really. Pretty, like you.” He stood in the center of your room, looking at you. You were fiddling your fingers in your lap, looking anywhere but him. You were thinking, thinking hard. Your lips twitched.

“What are you thinking about, dollface?” Logan made his way to you and grasped your chin in his fingers. He made you look at him with your doll eyes and your doll lips which you pursed softly. Silently, you stood from the edge of your bed, pressed between it and Logan's solid body. With your hands against his chest, you got up on your toes to reach his face and carefully pressed your lips to his in a tender kiss.

Your hands caressed his face softly, his beard prickly under your fingertips. You were still awkward and timid while kissing, but you were getting better at it. Still on your toes, you broke away from the kiss and wrapped your arms around Logan's neck. “I think I'm ready,” you whispered, voice quivering.

A better man would have asked, “are you sure?” A good man would have told you to wait until you were absolutely sure or even, to stick to your morals and wait until marriage. But Logan was not a good man and all he wanted was you, your entirety, resting in his palms like a baby bunny.

Logan dipped down and kissed you harder than before, with a feverish desire to take your soul straight from your body. His hands slid under your little nightgown, palms against your flesh, groping at you. Your breasts, your ass, the plush of your hips. You whimpered at how rough he was with you and Logan swallowed every squeak.

“Please…be gentle.” You pleaded with him. Your body shuddered as you felt the rumble of Logan's chest. He chuckled lowly.

“Oh, doll– I’m not known for being a gentle man.” There was something a bit feral in his throat as he spoke. “Come on, let's get this off of you.” He tugged at the hem of your nightgown, up and over your head, leaving you partially naked. Your hand immediately shot to your chest, shivering like a scared puppy.

Logan grabbed your wrist, despite his words, he was trying his best to be gentle with you. He didn't want to break you. What was the good in breaking something he wanted to possess? No, no, he didn't want to break you. Logan wanted you to be so thoroughly his that you'd never question him, your loyalty to him was what he wanted.

He took your hands from your breasts to get a good view of them. They were perfectly sized, soft looking. Your whole body was tender and sweet, with plush flesh and sweet curves all where they ought to be. Logan salivated like a pavlovian dog. He kissed you and palmed at your little, cotton panties, tucking his thumbs in and tugging them down.

You whined. “S-slow down.” Pleading as he removed them from you and carefully pushed you onto your bed. You felt too vulnerable nude before him. But Logan was already on his knees, between your legs, kissing and licking down your trembling thighs. “What are you doing?”

He put his mouth against your little love and you let out a sharp yelp. “Wait!” You never thought someone would put their mouth down there. It felt dirty. It felt good too. He pushed his tongue past your wet lips and licked your pussy before sloppily making out with your cunt.

Logan was a messy eater. All tongue and lips, licking and suckling against your most sensitive parts. His large, rough hands gripped at your thighs to keep them parted and pressed to your chest.

You never had your pussy ate and it was easy to tell. You were so sensitive to every touch of his tongue. Every flick against your swollen clit made your entire body shudder and a sweet mewling squeal left your lips. Your back arched from the bed, your toes curled into the air over your head. “Mr. Howlett!” You let out in a long, drawn out moan, your hand in his hair, tugging.

You tasted like heaven. Like he could find the meaning of life between your legs. He drooled all over your cunt like it was the most delectable thing he's ever had the honor of tasting, slurping and panting between rough licks. Logan felt that he could easily become addicted to this if he allowed himself to, the sweetness of you, the way you quivered.

But Logan didn't want you cumming just yet. He needed you to be on his dick first. He offered a few more desperate licks to your pussy before kissing your clit and bringing himself up to stand between your legs. His large, bear-like hands worked at the buckle of his belt. “You know when your parents will be home?”

You shook your head slowly, lips rolled.

“Then we’ll have to be quick.” It wouldn't be the ideal for a girl’s first time but if you wanted “ideal” you shouldn't have chosen someone like him to give up your virginity to.

You watched him pull his cock from his pants, half hard and almost beautiful as he pumped it in his hand. He was large, larger than anything you’ve ever taken before. You could hardly handle two of his fingers before crying. How could you possibly take a thing like that inside you and still remain composed? You were terrified out of your mind and as Logan pulled you by the hip towards the edge of the bed, you were starting to reconsider.

“What if it doesn't fit?”

Logan glanced at you. “I’ll make it fit.” He should tell you that it’s going to hurt at first, that there might be blood from your hymen breaking, but he didn't want you to back out. So he stayed silent, stroking himself to complete hardness until it could stand straight on its own. “Open your legs, doll.”

You hesitated but you were never one to disobey. Trembling, already on the brink of tears from the mere fear of pain, you spread your legs apart just enough for Logan to slot in between them and hold your hips. He looked at you and thought it best to reassure you. “Don't freak out. It’ll only hurt for a minute. I’ll be right here.” It was all vapid. He just wanted your virginity, your sweet, little cunny. He wanted to wear your purity around like a trophy.

Logan was not a good man. You should have known this.

He spat on your cunt, let the saliva dribble from his lips and land on your clit where it traveled its way down to your entrance. Logan played with it with the tip of his length, spreading it all across the rose between your legs. You whimpered like a puppy, writhing at the hips as he slapped his cock against your love and teased at all the possibilities of entering you.

He was right. It did hurt when he started easing his way into you. His cock, long and thick, stretched you out to a point you had never gone to before. You almost screamed or maybe you did. Tears swelled in your eyes as you squirmed against his hold. “It hurts!”

“I know. Just hold on.” He pushed his hips to yours and settled there for a moment. You were too tense. It would only hurt more if he continued before you adjusted. “Relax for me. It’ll only keep hurting if you don't calm down.” You were gasping, sobbing. “I– I can't!”

“Yeah, you can. Just breathe. Stop crying, doll.” Logan rubbed your hip with his hand and cooed at you. He rolled his hips against yours, coaxing you into whining. You let out a deep, panting breath, fingers gripping at the sheets of your bed. You reached out and grabbed your teddy bear to hold for comfort.

You pressed your face into the side of the bear’s head and nodded. “Go slow, please.” Your eyes glistened as you looked at him, cheeks still wet with tears. Your fingers grip into your teddy as Logan grunts lowly. “Sure thing, babydoll.” He grabs your thighs like you grip that stuffed animal, for dear life. You’re so fucking tight, gripping him like a fucking vice as he pulls his hips back.

There's a bit of blood on his cock. He ruptured your hymen with just one thrust. Logan pressed your legs to your chest as he fucked you, starting slow as you requested. He reveled in every desperate cry that clawed at your lips, every pined whimper that fell away into pleasure. Your toes pointed then curled, pointed, curled.

The pain didn't last too long, the blood still wet on his cock as you mewled. You looked quite cute holding your bear, your knees beside your ears, and you can't spread out around his slick length. Logan almost growled with each rut into your soft, silky pussy clinging to him.

It took everything in him not to brutalize you. Not to show you exactly what intentions he had with you. You were nothing serious, but you were his and his alone. He was not the type to marry but if it meant diving into a cunt like this every night, he just might put a ring on your finger to keep you satisfied and placid.

You were so dizzy with dick you might as well have fallen in love with Logan. Maybe you were in love with him. You were certain you were. You would have never given up your virginity to him if you hadn't believed that maybe, just maybe this might go somewhere.

Your father might let you marry him. He’s far older than you but Logan has a good reputation. He might not be a church man, but most accept him within the community. If you pleaded enough, if you told him Logan stole your virginity, he’d demand you two get married to save the family's reputation.

You let out a steady “ah, ah, ah” and “ohhhh!” with each thrust that takes the wind out of you. Logan likes the noises you make, how surprised they sound. You know nothing of this, of his evil, of his hellish ways. “Keep moaning like that. You're gonna make me cum, babydoll.” His hand slithered between your legs, thumb finding your clit toy with.

You squeaked, squealing. “No, no, no! I gonna–” you could hardly get it out before it happened, a great fountain of clear liquid coming from you and landing all over Logan's front. You always found your squirting embarrassing. You were mortified that you had got it all over Logan, still mostly clothed. Some of it even got on his face.

He bared his teeth, licking his lips like some starved animal. You were hazy-eyed and shaking with an orgasm so intense, you might as well have died and come back to life. “Logan– Logan, please.” You huffed, breathless and tired and begging him for something, anything, everything.

“Please what, doll?” Logan was rather amused by the way you writhed beneath him, holding your teddy so tight he thought you might rip it apart. He was so close to cumming, you made it impossible not to do it fast.

You shook your head with a great sob, tossing an arm over your face. “Please…don't cum in me! My dad will kill me if I get pregnant.” You couldn't handle the thought of disappointing your parents. They’d disown you, they’d…they’d…you didn't know what they'd do.

You sniffled as Logan chuckled at your request. “And what if I did, huh? What if I came deep inside you and put a baby in you, then what?” He liked how hard you sobbed, how you cried and moaned at the same time. Despair and pleasure all wrapped into one neat, little bow.

“Please, don’t.”

Logan groaned lowly, faltering with his thrust as his hips shuddered and his cock pulsed in the sweet tightness of your cunt. Just at the last second, he pulled out and came all over your pelvis and lower abdomen, shooting out great, white ribbons across your supple flesh. He didn't want to get you pregnant. He was a bad man, but he was no baby-trapper.

There was silence between the two of you. Your first time was not anything quite special but it was with someone you wanted to have it with so at least that was something. You felt…disgusting. Like a whore, like you dishonored your family.

Logan could see it. He could see the way you slowly dwindled into self-doubt and self-hatred. He took your hand in his and pulled you up into a sitting position. “Gimme some sugar, baby.” He leaned down and kissed you gently, holding your jaw in his hand, stroking your face. With a single kiss, your worries melted away into nothing, a void mind filled with only thoughts of a perfect life with Logan.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, your parents will be home any moment now.”

A perfect life not meant for you. Logan would never commit. He wasn't capable of it. He might want something nice and simple like a wife and a family, but he knew he’d never be satisfied with it.

Logan Howlett was not a good man. And poor you for falling in love with him.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x fem!reader #x men wolverine #wolverine #wolverine x fem!reader #the wolverine #wolverine x reader

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weirdogirl888 · 1 month ago

Text

donnie darko visuals 🖤

because tumblr lacks content of my favorite most precious boy :)

nsfw videos under the cut! you’ve been warned

mean!donnie who’s hobby is fucking you stupid

donnie loves you. he really does. but some days he’ll come home FUMING. maybe another teacher or a fuckass adult at middlesex pissed him off again. or maybe his therapist prescribed him another set of useless meds. what ever it is, he knows your their to make his problems go away. any pent up rage or energy he has you can take away with open arms. the feeling of your gummy walls vibrating around his red dick send his mind into the afterlife. he will pound into relentlessly until he’s back to his more normal calm state.

“you’re so good baby. just keep taking my cock. god ur like my own fucking flashlight. that’s it baby. take all you want. take it all”

boob!obsessed donnie | another | anotha

i feel like boob!obsessed donnie is just regular donnie ngl. this man is WEAK for a pair of titties. what does he think about in class? your boobs. driving to therapy? thinking about sucking on your boobs. laying in bed? he wishes your boobs were his pillow. he loves them so much and gives them just as much attention as they deserve. his unsolved mommy issues come out when you’re on your period and they get all swollen . he’s so sad seeing his baby in pain so he’ll massage them for HOURS . he doesn’t even want anything in return! but who are you to not praise such good behavior from such a sweet boy?

donnie who’s obsessed with ur lips

and why shouldn’t he be? he just loves you to much to not notice them. they’re so plump and swollen and glossy when he’s fucking you it’s mesmerizing. you look so beautiful and fucked out like this. his chest swells with pride when he knows he’s the only reason your feeling like you’re on cloud nine. i feel like he’d enjoy super sappy sleepy morning sex a TON just waking up to his fave girl beside him with the entire weekend at their tips. what could be better?

breeding donnie afterschool

i just KNOW you take up all of donnie’s mind when he spaces out. and seeing you prance around school in that uniform just makes his head spin! is the length of your skirt even up to code? do you purposely bend over right in front of his desk and flash him your cute pink panties? someone outa teach you a lesson for walking around like that. someone being him. one day you say your parents arnt home and invite him over to study for the upcoming test. little do you know you’d spend the entire time being to fucked out to study because once donnie gets the chance with you alone he just can’t help himself :(

thanks for reading! please like a follow hehehe and let me know if u want more, or send ur own!! requests are always accepted 💋💋

#donnie darko smut #donnie darko x reader #donnie darko #donnie x reader #twitter links #p!link #i love donnie darko #jake gyllenhaal smut #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal x reader #donnie darko x reader smut

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rosenclaws · 1 month ago

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Because of yesterday's headcanon about Leopold, I would like to request a smut leopold x reader where the reader just rides him, (and overstimulates him👀) praises him (cuz he has praise kink) and a lot of scratching and kissing☺️

(If you're not comfortable with this request, it's totally fine but I just really NEED a leopold smut fic, and you're the only blog I know that actively writes for Leopold so... 💋)

a/n: I FINALLY FINISHED IT OMG. Thank you for the request and my god I love Leopold. I am a ride he would not survive. Local Victorian man dies from too much sex. Anyways thanks for requesting and I really hope you like it <33

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, riding, creampie, scratching, sub!Leo, overstimulation.

Time has appeared to stop. The ticking of the clock fades into the background as the sounds of you and Leopold overpower anything else. It's quite dirty if you think about it. The moonlight shines through the windows, illuminating the room. The light hits Leopold just right. You can see the sweat on his skin. The sheen on his arms as he flexes them with every movement.

Fingers gripping tightly into your sides. His chest is heaving, desperately gasping for air. Yet his eyes shine with nothing but pure joy, fogged over from pleasure and a lust he's never experienced before.

It's amazing. It's exhilarating. Every nerve of his is on fire. He's never felt more alive, more loved. He's got his head tilted up, wide eyes with a blissful smile.

You grab his chin and pull him in for a desperate kiss. Tongues fighting each other, lips moving in sync. It's sloppy and gorgeous and feels so good. You press messy kisses to the corner of his mouth and down his jaw. He tilts his head back as a quiet whimper leaves his lips when you sink your teeth into his shoulder.

"My love..." Leopold groans as you move your hips faster and faster. His hands slip down to your thighs. Fingers sinking into the soft flesh.

"Hm? Yes Leo." You purr, a devilish grin as you tilt his head back to face you. His hair is sticking to his forehead and he looks so handsome.

"Feels..so marvelous." He pants.

"Yeah, you feel fucking amazing Leo. So big, so perfect." You gently place your hand on the back of his head, pressing his face into your chest and he happily licks and sucks every inch of skin he can.

"My pretty boy." Your nails slowly scratch the back of his head.

He's like your perfect pet. So eager to please, so cute, so desperate. You bounce on his cock with the perfect rhythm. Whining at the feeling of his fat cock deep inside of you. Every vein presses against your walls. Stretching you to the brim. Filling you so snugly.

Your hands slip to his back. Scratching down his toned back until there's marks of red. He groans loudly at the feeling. Forehead pressed against your chest, mouth wide open as the pain and pleasure mix together into the sweetest feeling he's ever felt. Leopold isn't going to last. He knows it. How could he when he's got someone as perfect as you riding him like there's no tomorrow.

"I can't-" He's cut off by a moan as you grind your hips against him. Shifting your hips slowly.

"It's okay pretty boy, just let me take care of you." You kiss him gently, slowly.

Pushing him to lay back. Nails scratching down his chest as he relaxes on the pillow. He's in awe as you pick up the pace and bounce on his cock again. He can't tear his eyes away from just where the two of you are joined. Watching as his cock disappears into you over and over. Where you're melded together in your most vulnerable states. It's all too much.

Leopold's eyes squeeze shut as he comes hard. You sigh as your hips start to slow their pace. His warm cum spurts from his cock, filling you up. He breathes deep as he starts to come down from his high.

"M'sorry my love." His words slur slightly as the pleasure fogs his brain.

You brush the hair out of his face. Leaning down to kiss him. God he's so hot. His cock starts to slip out and you move your hips down to keep him inside of you. He moans loudly, feeling overstimulated by the feeling of his cum and your cunt together. He can feel it dripping down onto him.

"Too...Too much." You shush him gently. Placing your hands on his chest you start to move slow and tortuously. He knows what to say if he really wants to stop. You had that conversation before diving into the world of hot sex with your boyfriend. There's just something so hot about this whole thing. Your beautiful. So bloody beautiful.

"I haven't finished yet baby..." Your voice is like honey as you lightly scratch his chest.

"Don't you wanna make me feel good?" He nods frantically.

The commanding tone of your voice sends his brain into a tizzy. Yes. He'd do anything to make you happy, anything to make you cry and moan with pleasure.

"That's a good boy, so nice. My good boy." He keens at the praise and you start to fuck yourself gently, using him like a toy and he is happy to submit.

"Please please, I love you. I need to please you." The words tumblr from his mouth without shame. What man in their right mind would be ashamed by this.

As his brain turns to mush all he can think about is making you happy, as happy as you make him. Anything you desire is yours. He grabs your hands and locks his fingers with yours. Letting you squeeze them as you grow more desperate. He brings one of your hands to his lips. Kissing them sweetly. You smile at him, a tired but blissed out smile. Your eyes are full of love and so are his.

This is what heaven feels like. Pure ecstasy. And he never wants to leave.

#kate and leopold #hugh jackman x reader #leopold mountbatten #leopold mountbatten x reader #leopold mountbatten smut

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cameronsprincess · 4 months ago

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hi mamas 💋

can you write one for rafe where he teaches the female reader how to finger herself and then rafe does it better for her and she tells him he's just gonna have to do it everytime and rafe is super soft and sweet like? fluff and smut at once?

just an idea.

reallllyyyyy scared im not putting myself on anon for this one but idfc cause tumblr is nasty like this 🖤

no one come at me

I LOVE ADORE SHITLESS NEEED YOUR WRITING AND I LOVE N ADORE YOU EVEN MORE !!

baby i love you n adore you SO MUCH!!!! thank u for this request, i’m hoping it meets your expectations<3

CW: guided masturbation, fingering, praise, soft!rafe, bsf!rafe fluffy smut<3

note: i’m imagining this is you and your best friend rafe and you drunkenly tell him you don’t know how to get yourself off so the next day he teaches you.. imagine it how you want, this is just where my head was!

“just like that, baby. move your fingers in and out slowly.”

you shift lower on the bed, planting your feet on the mattress and spreading your legs further apart, giving rafe a better view of your arousal slick thighs and pussy.

listening to his words, you slowly move your fingers in and out of your pussy, pressing your thumb gently against your clit and rubbing circles around it.

a low, raspy groan is pulled from rafe’s chest as he watches you please yourself, the sight has him rock hard, but he knows this is a teaching moment, and he won’t touch you unless you ask him to.

“god, you look so fuckin’ pretty like this. legs spread open wide f’me so i can watch as you please yourself,” he groans again, slouching in the chair he’s sitting in and palming his hard dick through his sweatpants. “go on baby, move ‘em a little faster, push ‘em in deeper.”

your chest begins to heave up and down, your breaths catching in your throat as strangled moans and whines escape you. you push your fingers in and out of yourself at a quicker pace, pushing them in as deep as you can.

your inner walls pulsate, contracting around the two fingers you have inside yourself. “fuckfuckfuck”

you feel the all familiar tightening in your lower belly as your pussy clenches around your fingers over and over again. a warm feeling rushes through your body while your hips lift up off the mattress as you come undone around your own fingers.

“fuck, that’s it princess, cum on your fingers.” rafe rasps, watching you in awe as you ride out your orgasm.

the sweet sounds of your moans filling his bedroom have rafe twitching in his seat. he wants to touch you so badly, but he’s not sure how you’d feel about it. he watches as you slowly come down from your high, both hands limp on the mattress and your breathing slowly calming.

“fuck, that was… that was so hot.” rafe admits, standing from his chair beside the bed and stepping toward you.

you open one eye, slightly squinting as you stare up at him staring down at you. “what?” you ask, cheeks turning bright red from how he’s looking at you.

he drops his head, eyes looking at the floor. “nothin’ it’s stupid.” he replies, shaking his head.

your eyes flit down to the outline of his hard cock showing through his sweatpants, and it has your body heating up more. you close your legs, squeezing your thighs together.

“no, it’s something.. tell me.”

rafe’s hard blue eyes find your face again. “i uh.. fuck.. i really wanna touch you, but we’re best friends, don’t wanna ruin nothin’ between us.”

a small smile works its way onto your lips. you’ve never seen rafe cameron so flustered and shy.

you sit up, propping yourself up on your elbows. “i could still use some practice, y’know.. show me how it should be done if a man touches me..”

his eyes light up, a fire now burning behind his baby blue eyes. “yeah?”

you nod once. “yeah, why not.”

rafe wastes no time climbing into his bed, his strong arms wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you up and off the pillows. he situates himself where you just were and pulls your body into his, situating you between his thighs.

chills rush throughout your body when you feel his fingers slowly running up and down your thighs. he runs his fingers downward until he reaches the inside of your thighs, slowly moving them up and down before his large hand splays out, pushing your thighs further apart.

his fingers make their way back to the inside of your thighs, moving up until they reach your wet pussy. he slowly runs his fingers through your folds, making you suck in a sharp breath.

“so fuckin’ wet, goddamn.” he rasps.

you gasp when he pushes his index finger inside you, pushing it knuckle deep before slightly curving it. your hips buck up, back arching off his body. “r-rafe..” you whimper.

he uses his free hand to shove your hips back down, holding you in place as he continues to slowly push his finger in and out of you. he adds another, scissoring them inside you, spreading you open before he continues the slow in and out movements.

his head dips down, his lips kissing on your sweat slick shoulder, trailing up to your neck and ear, his teeth lightly nipping at the lobe.

“holy shit, rafe..” you whine, trying to move your hips to match the thrusts of his skilled fingers, but his other hand prevents you from moving.

“yeah, baby? that feel good? you like how my fingers feel inside this tight little pussy?”

a moan escapes you. “y-yes! god, yes!”

rafe’s lips kiss and suck at your neck, his fingers picking up their pace as he adds a third, stretching you out more.

your pussy clenches around his fingers, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you whimper and moan his name. that feeling washes over you again as your pussy tightens around his fingers, sucking them in deeper. he curves them slightly, toying with your g-spot as his lips continue to kiss, lick, bite and suck on the sweat slick skin of your neck.

“oh.. rafe— fuck! ‘m coming!”

“good girl, cum on my fingers sweetheart, s’okay.”

he slams his fingers in and out of you quickly, repeatedly hitting at your g-spot and sending you over the edge. your body stiffens, legs shaking as you cry out his name, soaking his fingers.

rafe continues to finger fuck you through your high, whispering praises in your ear as he does.

once you come down, rafe slowly slips his fingers from inside you, bringing them to his lips and sucking them clean. he groans at the sweet taste of you on his tongue.

“did so good f’me, sweetheart. so proud of you.”

you rest your head on his chest, trying to calm your breathing. you slightly tilt your head up, finding his beautiful blue eyes. you take a shaky breath before saying what’s on your mind. “i.. i think you should do that for me from now on.. if you want of course.”

rafe smiles down at you, his blue eyes shining. “fuck yeah, i’ll do give you orgasms anytime you want sweetheart.”

RAFE TAGLIST: @princessslutt // @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles // @rafesthroatbaby // @sturnioloshacker // @starkeysprincess // @rafescurtainbangz // @atorturedpoetx // @redhead1180 // @jjsmarijuana // @romaescapes // @kisses4angel // @maybankslover // @bellbottombaby // @simars3 // @rafesgiirl // @urbimom // @heartsforrafecam // @antagonize-me-motherfucker // @araminsstufff // @chaneydoll // @bi-zowee // @uraesthete // @rafemotherfuckingcameron // @princesssuki21 // @zrm004 // @ijustwanttoreadlols // @baennied // @hyperfixationgirl // @justheretoreadthestories // @chiaraanatra // @chimindity // @juniebugg // @unsaidjaelinrose // @momoewn // @spid6y // @wearemadeofstardust0 // @vallovesyou

rafe cameron masterlist | requests | taglist form

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron brainrot #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x you #rafe x you #rafe smut

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makeyoumine69 · 6 months ago

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Hey! I don't know how to ask you this, but can you please do breeding kink fic from Patrick's POV? Thank you anyway!💋

HELLO NONNIE! 🥰 Breeding kink is my everything! *dying*

Captivated by your shaky breaths, the way you writhed beneath me, I kept thinking that I was about to lose control. I wanted nothing more than to ruin your pretty little body, to ravage you, and I could care less about your pathetic attempts to stop me. But I couldn't do that, not now, knowing that soon your belly would swell with the life we were both going to create.

Running a finger along your trembling lips, I descended to your neck. "You said you wanted to carry my child, right?"

Strained, you only nodded in response, but I wanted you to say that—I needed that. In one swift movement, I turned you to look at me, your big, beautiful eyes now mirroring mine. "Use your words, sweetheart, I want to hear you say this."

Your furrowed eyebrows and shyness almost made me want to stick my thumb deep into your mouth, but then you finally began to speak. "Yes, Patrick," you licked the tip of my finger, driving me completely wild. "Please... put a baby inside me."

Oh, God. There was no way I could resist when you talked like that.

And then I stuffed my thumb into your warm mouth, which you gladly accepted and sucked on as if it were your pacifier. "You're such a good girl," I rasped, nipping at your neck. "So good for me."

Without waiting, I pulled your hips up and placed a pillow under your ass so I could fuck you deep, I wanted you to feel all of me, every fucking inch, and you were gonna like it. A shaky squeal vibrated around my finger as I brushed my hard dick against your succulent pussy, so wet and ready to take me.

"I'm gonna fill you up with my cum, doll," my voice wavered with excitement, I could feel the blood pounding against my eardrums as I stroked myself several times before I teased your swollen clit with the tip of my thick cock. "And then you'll give me a child."

"A-ahh, Patrick," you whimpered, closing your eyes as I slowly and deliberately rammed into you. "You… you're so big-mhhm!"

Letting out a guttural grunt, I pushed myself further, enjoying your little sobs as I stretched you out so deliciously I could sense your velvety inner walls encasing my dick, inducing me to hold back my breath for a moment before I fully sheathed myself inside your dripping cunt.

"Jesus, you're already clinging to me," I drawled in total ecstasy, gripping your gorgeous hips to keep you still. "Keep your legs open for me, honey."

I watched you desperately clutching the sheets with pure delight, knowing you wouldn't last long as your tight pussy encircled around me like a vine. "Pat…Patrick...it's so d-deep!"

Eventually your voice was like white noise as I concentrated on fucking you, a loud slapping sound of our bodies colliding mixed with your wanton screams soon filled my bedroom. I could swear that no one else was making such noises, urging me to thrust harder, pinning you against the bed.

"Oh, I know, baby," I drew close to your embarrassed face, kissing you briefly to calm you down a bit before shifting my weight to my hands, trapping you completely under my muscular body. "I know, but you can take it."

"Pat…" You cried out as I bent your leg and pressed it against my torso, making the penetration even deeper. "Mmhm, Patrick!"

"Shhh," I pecked your forehead gently, but kept my pace pretty brutal. "I'm here," I murmured in a praising tone, putting my hands under your back to hold you even closer, encouraging you to wrap your legs around my waist. And when you did, I couldn't help but smirk devilishly. "Let it go, babe. Let me feel you clenching around me."

Overwhelmed with unbridled passion, I was ready to use every little detail I remembered about you. For example, you loved to feel protected and adored, and I was so eager to do that and give you everything I had. When I noticed your legs quivering along my back, I rolled my hips against yours, hitting all the right spots inside of you, and the next moment I felt you spasming around my throbbing cock, milking it deliciously.

"Mmhm, fuck," I cursed under my breath before brushing my messy hair away so I could peck your forehead. "Good girl, I'm so proud of you."

And I really was proud of you, your courage and obedience took me higher, I felt the pulsation cursing through my whole body, starting at my tensed balls and going right up to my very brain. Thrusting into your malleable body with pure abandon, I finally surrendered to the crashing wave of pleasure that washed over me, spurring me to unload my fertile seed deep into your womb. The vision of you carrying my child flashed through my mind, increasing my climax so that I had to hold you tighter because you were mine and I'd never let you go.

Never.

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines #answered asks #asks are always welcome

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darlingdaisyfarm · 5 days ago

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hi!! just wanna say you are my fav gravity falls author and im so obsessed with your fics for stan 🙏🙏 could i please have a stan x fem!reader smut where stan just REALLY likes tits. like a LOT. you have full creative freedom to go wherever you want with this idea i just wholeheartedly believe stan is a tit man <3 thank u and plz never delete this account youre the coolest 💞

Stan Pines is obsessed with you and your breasts ♡ (headcanons + blurb)

author note: hii, angel!! thank you sm for this sweet message, i'm literally melting and giggling and smiling rn!!! i can't even tell you how much this made my day, you're so kind and your words honestly mean the world to me 🤍

i had so much fun with this idea, so here’s something for you bc ur wish is my command! i hope it’s what u expected. and thank you for supporting me! ♡

I need this grumpy old man so bad, guys send me more asks bout him also comments and/or reblogs are always appreciated, kisses u💋

nsfw, fem reader

♡ Stan is absolutely shamelessly obsessed with tits. your tits, specifically. big, small, somewhere in between, it doesn’t matter! he’s a hungry fucking man. he fucking loves breasts. worships them. adores them. can’t keep his damn eyes (or hands, or mouth) off them. “you’re gonna kill me with these things, doll, fuckin’ hell, look at ‘em.”

♡ the first time you caught him staring, you were a little shy about it, but he didn’t even try to deny it. “what? they’re right there! whaddya want me to do, not look? it’s like puttin’ a steak in front of a starving man and tellin’ him not to eat!” and you made the mistake of saying, “you could touch them if you wanted to.”

♡ because now his hands are always on you. always. you’re trying to cook? his big hands are sliding up your shirt, squeezing, kneading, thumbs brushing over your nipples, he’s testing just how fast he can make that little gasp slip from your lips. and god, all of that is being done with that smug grin on his face. “what? i’m helpin’.” sure, Stan. sure

♡ I wanna develop idea about cooking more, so: as i said, Stan can’t keep his hands off you when you’re cooking. for him it’s just an excuse to get his hands on your body. expect him to come up behind you, press his broad chest into your back, let his hands rest in your waist as his lips ghost over your neck, muttering “damn, you look so pretty, baby, you sure you don’t wanna skip dinner and come straight to bed?” when he’s rubbing his growing bulge against you while you’re stirring the pot, literally humping you in the middle of the kitchen. It’s hard not to laugh at how desperate he is

♡ the type of man who’ll insist he’s innocent even when he’s shamelessly and obviously staring. you could be fully dressed, wearing the baggiest clothes known to man and this filthy old bastard is still eye-fucking you. “what? can’t help it, doll, you’re beautiful.” no shame. zero!

♡ of course Stan loves to bury his face in your chest. it’s his happy place there. his hands sliding up your sides as he presses his face between your breasts, groaning, “fuckin’ heaven, toots. yer like a damn pillow, but better, so soft, so warm.” while you let your fingers run through his hair. It’s more about being intimate and soft though

♡ “goddamn, look at these beauties. best fuckin’ view in the world, ain’t it?”

♡ he’s a sucker for leaving marks on your breasts. bite marks, hickeys, little bruises from his teeth and fingers

♡ uhh. . . hear me out, him stuffing dollar bills into your bra as a joke (or no). “figure they’re safer here than my wallet anyway.”

♡ Stan loves when you wear anything that lets him see your nipples, especially when they’re hard (from cold or because you’re horny?), he goes crazy when thin shirt or a dress hugs your body. “goddamn, sweetie, could stare at those for hours.”

♡ his guilty pleasure is watching you put lotion on after a shower. you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, smoothing the cream over your arms, shoulders and chest and that old man is drooling

♡ Stan is so domestic, he loves the way you look in the morning, your breasts barely covered by his tank top that you stole. you stretch, yawning, your nipples peeking through the thin fabric and he’s already pulling you back into bed. “don’t care what we had planned today, baby. yer stayin’ right here with me.”

♡ Stanley gets so distracted when you’re undressing in front of him. doesn’t matter if it’s casual or if you’re trying to tease him, once your top comes off, his eyes are immediately glued to you while his cock already twitching to life in his pants. “jesus christ, woman, yer tryin’ to kill me. c’mere and let me get my hands on ya.”

♡ and when he finally gets you laid out on the bed, his hands worshiping every inch of you, oh, he takes his sweet time. dragging his thumbs over the stiff peaks of your nubs, leaning down to wrap his lips around one, sucking gently before giving it a teasing bite. he’s grinning against your skin when you gasp his name, one hand slipping down to spread your thighs apart while he gets comfortable between them. “love when you make these sounds. what’d i do to deserve this, huh?”

♡ oh, his tongue too. it’s wet and warm, circling slow before he flicks the nub just to watch your back arch. his free hand squeezes your other breast, pinching and tugging lightly on the nipple. he groans from how heavenly you taste. “softest damn tits I’ve ever had my hands on. christ, baby, I love you so much.”

♡ if you let him, he’ll press his cock between your breasts, his hands squishing them together as he ruts into the softness, groaning like a goddamn mess. “fuck, baby— mhmm, your so fuckin’ soft, look at this, huh? takin’ me so good, atta girl.”

♡ more thoughts about breasts fuck. i personally think Stan would love it? because there’s something about the sight of his heavy cock sliding between your breasts, the way you press them together for him, making a perfect, soft little channel for him to fuck into like a needy old man he is. he gasps, praises you, worships you whole as he watches himself disappear between them, his tip slick and glistening with precum every time it peaks out

♡ “fuck, doll, keep squeezin’ ’em like that. jesus, yer gonna make me cum just from lookin’ at ya.” and he does, oh, he does. he spills his seed all over your chest. and when he’s finished, Stan isn’t shy about making a mess, watching his cum drip down your breasts

♡ when he’s drunk, Stan gets even more handsy than usual

♡ you get him worked up sometimes by accident. like, when you’re reaching for something high up on a shelf and your shirt rides up, giving him the perfect view of your waist, those soft curves that drive him absolutely crazy. Stan will mumble something like “god, babe—gimme a second, I gotta go fix somethin’ in the back room. . . you know how it is with my old bones.” but it’s all a damn lie because he just needs to take a breather after staring at your body for the last five minutes

♡ Stan absolutely loves when you’re riding him, leaning over with your tits pressed into his face. he doesn’t care if it’s just for a few seconds or longer, he wants to feel them on his lips. he’ll lift his head slightly to suck on your cute nipples or trail hot kisses down your cleavage, his hands gripping your ass as he pushes his hips up to meet you. “sh-shit, baby, lemme just. . .”

♡ you lean over the counter while talking to him, doesn’t matter if you’re talking about what’s for dinner or how the vending machine ate your dollar, his eyes are locked on your chest only, already undressing you in his mind. he’ll mutter something gruff like, “yeah, uh-huh”

♡ loves to make you squirm. Stan’s a teasing bastard and he knows exactly what he’s doing when he brushes his thumb over your sensitive nipple slowly, watching it pebble under his touch. “sensitive today, huh? what’s the matter, sweetheart? thought ya liked it when i played with these pretty little nubs of yours.” and then he pinches, just to hear you gasp and watch you press your thighs together

♡ i swear, Stan will make excuses to get you on his lap, just so he can slide his hands under your clothes and play with you while you sit there all flustered, giggling silly. “ain’t no law against touchin’ my girl, is there? c’mon, lemme have my fun, been thinkin’ about these all damn day.”

♡ as I mentioned, he’s a sucker for when you’re on top, bouncing on his cock while his big hands squeeze your waist, holding you so tenderly in his arms despite how hard and rough he bucks his hips into you, his mouth is latched onto your nipples. the way your breasts move drives him insane

♡ during lazy, slow sex, Stan loves lying on his side with you pressed against him, one hand massaging your breast as he thrusts into you slowly from behind. his lips are at your ear, whispering filthy things about how soft and warm you feel

♡ but when it’s rough, he’s gripping your breasts so hard you’ll have finger-shaped bruises the next day, pinching your nipples just to watch you arch your back and tremble under him, “you like that, huh? that’s right, my good fucking girl,” and every word he says he punctuates with a thrust. “can’t get enough of me touchin’ you, can ya?”

♡ reminder: Stan doesn’t just love your breasts because they’re sexy, though, yeah, they are. he loves them because they’re yours. soft, warm, comforting, just like you. and if he can bury his face in them and forget about the rest of the world for a little while? that’s just the cherry on top! a nice bonus!

♡ bonus: little blurb

sight of you in his suit jacket, oh god. that thing swallows you whole but it’s too big for you so it hangs off your shoulders, exposing your skin, letting him see your thighs as well. Stan’s jacket, smelling like cigars, is over you in a way that makes his throat go dry. and underneath that beautiful little bra you knew would make his head spin, it’s lace and soft cups hugging you in ways he wished his hands were right now. your cleavage drawing his attention like a magnet. no, it’s too goddamn much for Stan to handle

he’s slouched on the armchair, legs spread wide, trying to keep himself from losing control. his eyes latch onto the soft lace of your bra, the way it cups your tits just beautiful enough to tease him. he looks so needy already and you’ve barely touched him

“Jesus christ, doll.” sounds like he’s choking on his own breath. “yer doin’ this on purpose, parading around in my jacket, showin’ off these tits like some goddamn pin-up doll, huh.” his lips curl into a smirk

perfect, just exact reaction you waited. you bite your lip, stepping closer, swaying your hips for him. you play it coy, of course. shifting the jacket like it’s just slipping off, letting one strap of your bra peek out more. “what? this old thing?” you smile like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing

and then he’s got his hands on you in an instant, dragging you into his lap because he can’t stand another second of his pretty girl being out of reach. his palms feels rough as they grip your hips, tugging you down until your thighs straddle his.

“you tryin’ to kill me, toots? walkin’ around like that, wearin’ my jacket.”

your knees settle on either side of him, and his hands waste no time sliding up your thighs, over your hips, and straight to your waist, holding you close to him because this man is always starved for physical contact. his thumbs dip under the edge of the jacket, brushing the bare skin just above your bra

“Staaanley,” you breathe, your lips hovering just above his. your hands tangling in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan.

“No, no, no, don’t you ‘stan’ me, pretty,” he mutters, and one of his hands slips behind your back to unclasp your bra with a flick of his fingers, the other cupping your breast like he’s been dying to touch you all day. “you don’t get to tease me like that, wearin’ this fuckin’ outfit, and then say my name like some innocent little thing. you know exactly what you’re doin’, don’tcha?”

his thumb brushes over your nipple and then his lips follow, placing wet and hot kisses along your breast, sucking gently before biting down to make you gasp.

“That’s it,” he groans against your skin. “wanna hear all those pretty little sounds you make, baby. fuck, you’ve got me harder than a goddamn rock.”

he’s saying true because you feel the evidence of that pressing against your core, even through your panties. his free hand slides between your thighs, fingers pressing against the damp fabric and you whimper when he rubs slow circles over your needy clit.

Stan grins as he pushes the lace aside. “you’re fuckin’ soaked. all this from me touchin’ your tits? jesus, doll, yer even dirtier than i thought.”

his fingers tease your wet entrance, rubbing over your folds before dipping inside, and your head falls against his shoulder, moaning as he pumps them slow and deep.

“C’mon, baby,” Stanley brushes his lips over your ear as he fucks you with his fingers, his other hand still kneading your breast. “tell me who you belong to. say my name, and i’ll give you everything you want. everything. I’ll fuck you so good.”

you moan his name, digging your nails into his shoulders

“Yes, that’s it,” his hand moves faster. “gonna make you scream for me, sweetheart. make sure you never forget who you belong to.”

#I NEED THIS OLD MAN #smut #gravity falls x reader #gravity falls #x reader #gravity falls x you #gravity falls smut #stan pines #stanley pines smut #grunkle stan #stan pines x reader #stan pines smut #stan pines x you #stanley pines x you #stanley pines x reader #gravity falls headcanons #gravity falls stanley

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