#i hope there is motorcycle gear sex

[ultraevilmaoist]

qould you guys still love me if i liveblogged pact

[obsessed-with-fake-men]

After His Show

After seeing the band play a gig in the city, you ride back to town on Seb’s motorcycle. But, you get a little distracted along the way…

Sebastian xF!Reader, Sebastian xAFAB!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Tw: nsfw, mdni, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, mentions of cigarettes, pet names, semi-public sex, oral male receiving

AN: This fic can be read as a follow up to Under His Desk or as a stand alone. I have been on the motorcycle thirst trap side of the internet lately and I thought that perfectly aligned with a fic idea. I have never ridden a motorcycle so if my descriptions are inaccurate, I’m sorry :)

Wc: 4400

It was another fall day and you had just finished a harvest which meant one thing - it was time to pop into Pierre’s for some more seeds. You head down the road that leads into town trying to decide if you want to focus on artichokes or if you have enough time left in the season to plant some fairy roses. You’re so lost doing the mental calculations that you would’ve run into Sam if he hadn’t grabbed you by the arms.

“Look where you’re going, farmer! You could’ve made a dent in me,” he jokes, squeezing your biceps. “No, but for real you’re strong right?” 

“Uh yeah, I guess I am?” you shrug.

“Well, we could use an extra roadie for the Goblin Destroyer show tomorrow night if you’re free,” he says. “I know Seb would be really happy if you were there.” Sam winks at you.

You flush, forgetting that Sam knows you and Seb have been fooling around since he almost walked in on the two of you. If you’d only grabbed your bra before hiding under Seb’s desk this embarrassment could’ve been avoided.

“Yeah, sure I don’t have any plans for tomorrow,” you say. “It would be cool to see y’all at a real gig and not just rehearsals.”

“Sweet! Okay, we’re meeting at the bus stop at 4, see you there,” Sam calls as he heads for home.

The next day you finish your chores around the farm as quickly as you can. You may be a roadie tonight, but you’re a groupie at heart and you want to look the part. When you’re satisfied that you look somewhere between halfway decent and slightly hot, you head for the bus stop. 

As you approach, you see Seb leaving. You try to catch his eye but it’s clear his head is elsewhere. When you get to the bus stop, Abigail whistles at you.

“Damn girl, you clean up nice,” she exclaims. You hadn’t really had a chance to dress up for a night out since you moved to Pelican Town a few months ago.

“Thanks,” you laugh. “You look great too, very punk rock.”

“Dude I wear this outfit literally all the time, but thanks,” she laughs.

You help load the rest of the equipment, looking around every now and then hoping to see Seb. By the time all of the gear is loaded, Sebastian still hasn’t appeared. You see Sam lingering by the doors to the bus.

“Hey Sam, is Seb… I mean I saw him heading to town when I got here and we’re about to leave,” you trail off.

“Oh yeah, he had to help his mom with something, he said he’ll meet us there,” Sam replies.

Disappointed, you board the bus behind Sam.

The ride to the venue goes by faster than you expected, and you spend the whole time laughing and joking with Sam and Abigail. Upon arrival you jump into your role as a roadie, unloading gear off the bus with the same focus you use to plant or harvest crops. When everything is set up, you head outside for a smoke break. You’ve always smoked off and on, but since hanging around Seb the habit has admittedly gotten a bit worse.

Searching your pockets for a lighter, you come up empty. You wish Seb was there, he always has one on him. As if in answer to your prayers you hear a motorcycle nearing. Looking up, you see Seb riding towards you. You had to focus to keep your mouth from falling open. Sure you’d seen him working on the bike and that was objectively hot, but seeing him ride up on it was another thing entirely. You weren’t sure if it was the confidence he rode with, but even with his face obscured by the helmet he looked sexy.

Seb pulled the bike up right next to you. He was surprised he parked straight because he had been looking only at you since he entered the lot. Seb knew you were going to be there tonight, but damn he didn’t know you were going to look this good all dressed up in black. He knows that it’s the traditional color crew wears, but he hopes you considered his reaction as you picked out your outfit - the thought makes him blush. Those tight black jeans seem to hug every curve and your top is cut just low enough to get his heart racing. 

Sebastian pulls off his helmet and runs a hand through his dark hair. 

���Need a light?” he asks, nodding toward the unlit cig in between your fingers.

“Yeah, your timing is perfect,” you say, as Seb dismounts the motorcycle and pulls a lighter from his pocket. 

You lean forward, breathing in as he lights the tip of your cigarette. 

“Sounds like you were missing me,” he teases, plucking the cig from your fingers to take a drag.

“Missing you or just your lighter, who’s to say,” you retort.

Seb offers the cig back to you, instead of taking it, you lean forward making eye contact as you take a drag while it’s still between his fingers, lips brushing his digits. Seb’s cock twitches at your brazen flirtation and he huffs out a laugh. Damn, you really know how to get him going.

Seb grabs your hand and pulls it up to his mouth. He kisses the inside of your wrist, causing you to draw in a ragged breath.

“Well I missed you, y/n…” he whispers against your wrist. 

You can’t think beyond his admission and his breath dancing across your sensitive skin. It makes your heart race and you’re certain he can feel your pulse quicken under his soft touch.

“Are you sure you haven’t missed me too?” he teases, pulling your body flush with his. Seb’s other hand captures your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his - the cherry of your cig reflected in his blown-out pupils. 

“You can tell me, baby,” he coos. “I know how to keep a secret.”

The back door to the venue opens with a bang.

“Yo Seb, you out here?” Sam’s voice calls. “It’s time for the final soundcheck!”

“Yeah man, I’ll be there in a minute,” Seb shouts back, not taking his eyes from yours.

Without warning, he pushes you back against the wall of the building, lips locking with yours, cigarette dropped forgotten on the pavement.

His hand travels to your waistband, fingers skillfully popping the button of your jeans.

“Seb what are you doing??” you hiss. “Someone will see us!”

“Not if I’m quick,” he promises with a wink.

Undoing your zipper, his long fingers find their way to your underwear. A moan escapes your lips as he brushes over the wet cloth barely covering your pussy. Seb is quick to capture the sound with his mouth.

When you quiet he whispers in your ear, “Can’t believe how wet you are for me already sweetheart.”

Gently he runs a finger through your folds under the fabric. You gasp, struggling to remain silent. Seb plunges the finger deep into your hole, covering your mouth with his other hand to keep you from crying out. 

He pumps his finger into you a few times, just enough to make you ready to beg for more when he removes his digit from you, bringing it to his lips. Watching Seb suck your juice from his finger causes your walls to clench around nothing - you can’t get over how hot and bothered this man makes you.

“Don’t worry baby, I just wanted a taste. Let’s call it a good luck charm,” Seb chuckles. “C’mon, they’ll be wondering where we are.”

As Sebastian heads onstage for sound check you grab a drink from the bar and join the waiting crowd. You’re not in the first row but you don’t mind. Positioning yourself in front of the keyboard, you look around, shocked by the number of unfamiliar faces at the show. The second the lights go down and the band takes the stage, there’s a palpable shift in the energy. Sure you’d been to rehearsals and a couple of local shows, but seeing the guys and Abby on a stage in the city, they look like they belong up there.

Seb had played it cool in front of you, but as he walks onto the stage he can feel his hands begin to shake. Shit, this is the biggest crowd they’ve ever had. He can NOT fuck it up now. Positioning himself behind his keyboards, Seb blinks through the spotlights to the sea of faces. Well maybe not a sea, but it’s a decent-sized lake. As soon as his eyes adjust, he sees you. He’d recognize your smile and bright eyes anywhere. He’s always nervous for shows, but locking eyes with you, he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. You mouth “you got this” and blow him a kiss. God you’re so cute, he thinks, shaking his head to himself as his heart swells.

Abby starts the count-off with her drumsticks and muscle memory kicks in. Seb loses himself in the music as he always does. Forgetting he’s on a stage in front of a crowd of strangers, his fingers know just where to go. As the first set ends Seb slowly comes out of his daze, guided by Sam’s voice distantly addressing the crowd.

“We are Goblin Destroyers, thanks for coming out tonight!” Sam shouts as the crowd cheers. He introduces the band, and as you hear him say “...and on the keys we have Sebastian!” a huge cheer erupts from the audience. It’s a little too big of a cheer for your liking, and you can see Seb trying to hide his flushed face behind his dark fringe. You feel a sudden surge of jealousy and mentally kick yourself for not having marked Seb’s neck with your lips and teeth before the show. You’ll have to remember that next time. 

The music starts back up and you surrender yourself to the sound. The bass thrums in your chest and your eyes are glued to Sebastian. You love watching him play. It’s as if all his worries melt away leaving just Seb and the music. It’s so hot to see him this way, totally raw - the mask he usually keeps up between himself and the world is replaced by a look of utter calm.

The only other time you’ve seen him like that is when he’s inside of you. Watching his fingers expertly fly across the keys sends a shiver down your spine as you remember where they were just an hour before. You try to keep your lust at bay and enjoy the show, but the only music you want to hear now are the sweet groans from Seb’s lips as he fucks you.

After a few more songs, the show is over and people begin filtering out of the venue. You head backstage to help pack up when a hand grabs your arm and pulls you into a dark corner. Just as you open your mouth to shout, Seb slots his lips between yours for a devastating kiss, full of tongue and teeth and the adrenaline high he still has from the gig. You pull back for breath and punch him in the arm. 

“Ow, what was that for?” he asks rubbing where you struck him.

“For making me think I was getting kidnapped,” you laugh, putting your hands around his neck. Leaning up, you whisper into his ear, “You looked really hot up there,” and you take his lobe between your teeth. Seb lets out a soft groan and cups your ass in his hands. 

“Ahem,” Abigail clears her throat. 

The two of you freeze, debating whether it’s too late to pretend you were doing something, anything more innocent than what she’s seen.

“Oh my god, chill out you two,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “I know you’re fucking, Sam called me as soon as he left your little sex pad.”

You burst out laughing and Seb says, “Ew, Abs don’t call my room a ‘sex pad’.”

“Whatever, will y’all just help pack up the gear?”

You turn to leave, but Seb pulls you in for another quick kiss.

“If everyone knows, I might as well show you off,” he says with a wink before walking away.

Packing up is quick work and before you know it everyone is piling into the bus.

“You want the same spot?” Abigail asks. 

“Oh um actually Seb said he’d give me a ride back….” you say. 

“Ah, I get it. You two drive safe and use protection,” She says, closing the last door on the equipment storage.

You flush and stammer, “wha- we won’t uh-”

“Oh my god wear a helmet, dumbass,” Abigail laughs, punching you lightly in the arm as she heads for the bus.

You make a final sweep of the venue to make sure nothing is left behind. Emerging into the parking lot you see Sebastian, leaning against his bike. The lone streetlight above like another spotlight, and he’s putting on a show just for you. Seb’s lips curve into a soft smile as takes a drag from his cigarette. The smoke curls up around him, obscuring all of his features except his gleaming eyes that track you as you approach. All his.

Finally alone, the desire that has built up over the course of the night threatens to overtake you right here in the parking lot. You reach for him as Seb puts an arm around your waist pulling you close. He leans down, kissing up your neck to your ear.

“Did you get all dressed up in black just for me?” he whispers, nipping at the sensitive shell of your ear. You let out a shaky breath. 

“All for you Sebby,” you sigh.

His cock hardens from both the nickname and your admission. He pulls your body flush with his. You gasp as you feel his hard length pressing against you. 

“Let's get you home sweetheart, there’s so much I want to do to you,” Sebastian growls into your ear.

Taking one last drag from his cig, he drops it to the pavement putting it out with a twist of his foot. Seb reaches behind his back and produces two helmets. He hands you the smaller one.

“I thought you only had the one helmet,” you tease. 

“Gotta keep my girl safe,” he says with a wink. 

The two of you put on the helmets, and you watch as Seb straddles the bike. Ugh, he looks so hot, something about the helmet covering his features, only his neck exposed, really gets you turned on. He starts the bike and revs the engine. Seb reaches out a hand to you and you take it, straddling the bike behind him, you wrap your arms around his stomach. He reaches back, running his hand down your thigh, giving you a quick squeeze. And then you’re off.

God, you feel so good nestled behind him. Your arms hold him in a tight hug as your thighs squeeze him. Fuck he loves your legs and with your tits pressing into his back, he’s in heaven. Seb has always loved taking his bike out, he feels so free flying down the quiet highway under the stars.

His heart swells at the trust you place in him, to keep you safe as the two of you speed through the empty streets. He hopes you’re having a good time too when he feels you lean back and let out a whoop into the night air. Seb laughs and does the same. When he’s with you, it’s like gravity’s endless weight is lifted and he can dream again. You must sense this because you squeeze him tighter for a moment. 

Something no one ever told you about riding a motorcycle is that it’s basically one giant vibrating seat. And with your arms around the man you’re planning to fuck the second this ride is over, the sensation is making you extremely horny. You can feel the wetness pooling between your legs and you try to adjust your position to get the vibration right where you want it. Seb must think you’re uncomfortable because the moment you shift his hand reaches back to squeeze your thigh again.

His worry for you makes you determined to let him know just how good you feel. You start to move one hand, running it down his stomach. Seb returns his hand to the handlebar, thinking your touch is to reassure him, but you aren’t done. Your fingers drift downward, searching and finding. His cock stiffens and his hands clench the handles. You give him a rough squeeze through his jeans and he lets out a groan barely audible through the sound of the wind. You tug on his length as you rock your hips on the seat.

Closing your eyes you begin a slow pace of jacking him off over his jeans and grinding your pussy into the vibrations. You’re so lost in seeking your pleasure that you don’t notice Seb has turned off the highway until the motor cuts off. You whine at the lack of vibration, not fully comprehending what’s happening until Seb pulls you off the bike. His helmet is still on but his visor is open. You can see the desire flashing in his eyes. 

“My needy girl, couldn’t wait to finish the ride before needing my cock,” he growls. 

“I- I didn’t mean to…” you whimper as Seb pulls off his helmet, and runs his hand through his hair. 

“What am I gonna do with you,” he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head.

Setting down the helmet, Seb circles the bike. You take off your helmet, shaking out your hair. He drinks in the sight of you, the moonlight shining off your hair, the desperate look in your eyes, the way your black clothes cling to you and how he wants to peel them off. He pauses in front of you, hand palming his now aching erection. Your gaze is glued to that hand, taunting you.

Seb undoes his belt buckle, pops the button on his jeans and slowly pulls down the zipper. Watching you squirm with every small movement, he could do this for hours, basking in your hungry gaze knowing that you want him just as much as he wants you. But he won’t keep you waiting. He eases his cock out, hissing as the cool night air trails over his hot length. 

“On your knees baby.” 

You oblige instantly, he chuckles at your obedience. 

“That’s a good girl,” he growls. 

He shudders as you grab him, pressing a light kiss to his tip before you flick your tongue along the slit dripping with precum. And when your warm, wet mouth wraps around his length he has to stop himself from thrusting into the back of your throat. You take your time, sucking with your mouth and pumping with your hand until he can’t take it anymore.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and rocks his hips forward. Forcing his cock to hit the back of your throat. The feeling of your tongue on the underside and the light scrape of your teeth on top force out a groan from deep within his chest. His eyes lock on yours, so full of tears just waiting to spill out. He thrusts a few more times, relishing in the feeling of his balls hitting your chin. When your throat squeezes him as you choke on his cock, he swears if he died right now at least he’d die happy.

And as much as he craves to chase his own pleasure and pump his seed into your waiting mouth, he has to make sure you’re okay. Pulling his dripping length from your lips, Seb crouches down to cup your face in his hands. You cough and take in a few ragged breaths before meeting his gaze. He strokes your cheek, “such a good girl for me” he sighs pulling you in for a searing kiss.

“Up you go,” he says, pushing you up to standing. You lean back against the parked bike, not trusting your legs to hold you. Now it’s your turn to look down at Seb, even though you know you have tear streaks on your face and drool on your chin, his eyes are full of adoration. It’s so cute you don’t know if you want to laugh or to cry.

He rubs his hands soothingly up and down your thighs. Then his fingers catch the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough for him to press a soft kiss to your stomach. He grabs the waist of your jeans, eagerly undoing the button and zipper he pulls them down to reveal your black panties. This pair has a little bow just below the waistband like you’re a present that’s his to unwrap. He stands slowly, moving his hands from your waist to cup your breasts. 

He kisses you softly then whispers in your, “Turn around for me baby.” 

You do, bracing yourself against the bike. He softly touches your ass. It’s fully on display, framed by the lacy black straps of your thong. He growls, slapping your soft flesh. You let out a moan as the cool night breeze instantly soothes the sting. Seb cups your pussy and chuckles when he feels the hot wet crotch of your panties. 

“If I knew you’d like the bike so much, I would’ve put you on it ages ago,” he teases, pulling the fabric to the side.

He teases your slit with a long finger, dragging it through your folds to lightly flick your clit. You gasp and arch your back. Fuck he loves how responsive you are, every touch eliciting a reaction. He plunges two fingers into you, pumping his cock at the same pace. He gets lost in watching his digits disappear into your warm, wet hole. 

“M-more Seb, please,” you whine, pulling him from his trance. Before you register the loss of his fingers, the tip of his cock is already teasing your folds. You moan, pushing your hips back. 

Seb chuckles. “Is my sweet girl ready for my cock?” he asks under his breath.

He knows the answer is yes, he knows you’ve been ready since before the show, but he likes making you wait. Teasing you until his cock is the only thing that could make you feel better. He notches his length at your entrance and slowly pushes into you. You groan, finally getting what you’ve been craving for days. Your toys at home can’t compare to this feeling. Being filled and fucked by your man. 

He slowly enters you until his entire length is sheathed inside your perfect pussy. Your walls clench around him causing his breathing to turn ragged. His grip on your hips tightens, as he eases out of you until just his tip is inside of you. Then without warning, he shoves all the way back in. You cry out, arching your back and Seb knows he’s hit the spot inside you that makes you see stars. He thrusts into you again and again, fingers leaving bruises on your flesh as he steers you closer and closer to orgasm. Your walls squeeze him tighter and he knows you’re close. 

“That’s it, baby,” he grunts, “Cum for me, you can do it.” 

And you do, expletives and his name string together in a chant that he’s sure could raise him from the dead as you cum around his cock. He follows you over that cliff, pushing as deep as he’s able, sealing his body with yours as tightly as he can. If two souls could join, it must feel like this, he thinks as he empties himself into you.

The two of you stay in this position, you draped over the motorcycle like Seb’s wet dream and Seb still inside you, head hung low, trying to keep his legs from giving out as he decides if he ever wants to move again. And then your pussy flutters around his length and he’s sure if he doesn’t pull out now he’ll die from the overstimulation. Easing his cock from you he watches entranced as his seed drips out of you.

He’s never wanted kids but his mind is suddenly filled with images of your belly swollen as his child grows inside of you. He flushes and his cock twitches painfully at the thought. He pushes that desire down, your relationship (if you can even call it that) is so new, he’ll do anything to keep from scaring you away.

Carefully, he covers your dripping pussy with the thin strap of fabric that is your thong. You groan and wiggle your hips as he rubs you through the fabric. Seb slaps your bare ass, huffing out a laugh at your little yelp. After tucking his cock away and pulling on his jeans, Seb helps you up and turns you around. Leaning against his bike, he pulls you into his arms kissing the top of your head and breathing in the smell of your hair. You rest your head on his shoulder, kissing his neck.

His heart is so full he fears it might burst. You pull back to see his face, the look in his eyes is so tender, so loving you have to hold back tears. You slide your hands behind his neck and pull him in for a kiss. The kiss is long, full of hope and passion and all the things you are too nervous to say.

Pulling away from the kiss, Seb squeezes your still-exposed ass. “Let’s put this away before you tempt me to go again,” he says pulling up your jeans. You giggle, buttoning your pants. When you look up Seb is back on the bike, his arm extended toward you with helmet in hand. 

“What do you say, baby, let’s keep this adventure going?” he asks, hoping you understand the weight of his words. You know that after tonight, your heart is his whether he knows it yet or not. You take the helmet and climb onto the bike behind him. You whisper into his ear, “Lead the way Sebby,” and set the helmet on your head. He starts up to engine and with a whoop, the two of you speed off into the night. 

[honeytama]

Take Me There

Nick Folio x Fem!Reader

A/N: Have been in such a Folio mood lately and could not stop thinking about this scenario. Enjoy!

Summary: Your boyfriend, Nick, is riding to Florida with his friends while you’re stuck at home. While you’re missing your sexy biker, maybe bringing up a fantasy to him while he’s alone will cheer you up?

Content and Warnings: Established relationship, smut 18+, switch Folio, masturbation, JOI (jerk off instructions)/phone sex, the helmet stays on…

Word Count: 3k

Tag List (for all works): @thisbicc

“Baby, call me whenever you need me,” Nick wraps an arm around your waist and presses a quick kiss to your cheek before stepping toward the door with his helmet in hand. “I promise I’ll answer wherever I am.”

“I will. I love you,” you say sweetly as he steps out of your shared place.

“I love you!” He yells, his voice muffling as he pulls the front door closed behind him.

It’s early, the sun not having come up yet, and you stand alone in your house with sleepy eyes and pajamas. Nick’s gone and you’re already missing him.

Heading back to bed, you splay out on both his and your sides soaking in the warmth he’s left behind and stuffing your nose in his pillow. The scent of his leftover hair product and shampoo makes you melt away.

Nick would be gone for a few days on a motorcycle trip with a couple of guys from his motorcycle club riding down to Florida. You’re used to him being away, but this time it feels different. You wanted so badly to ask him if you could tag along and make it a vacation for the two of you, however you knew how much he missed having his freedom. He’s constantly talking about the trips he wants to take with his buddies and as his girlfriend, you don’t have the heart to ever take him away from those; especially when he gets so giddy and talks so dreamily. 

Also, Nick’s promise to pick up the phone isn’t a new one, you’re constantly texting him and talking to him while he’s on tour or at festivals. You really can’t bear to go one day without hearing his voice.

—

Your phone buzzes while you relax on the couch that afternoon with a book. Pulling it from the cushion, you eagerly anticipate a message from him. Your face lights up at his name on your screen.

Folio ♡: We’re at a gas station. Over halfway there, can’t wait to send you pics from the beach tomorrow.

Now knowing he’ll have some time to talk, you press the call button. He answers almost immediately.

“Hey, baby! I just filled up… Just waiting for the guys,” you can hear his toothy smile through the call. “How’s your day so far? Missing me?”

Nick has a system in his helmet that allows him to answer your call without taking it off. No one can hear the sounds coming from it, whether it’s music or voice calls from his friends on the road. However, if he’s too loud, the helmet can’t muffle his voice enough allowing everyone around him to hear what he’s saying. 

“It’s going well. I’m just reading on the couch waiting for the day you come home,” you giggle. “But, don’t worry about me, Nick, have fun, okay?”

“Okay, okay,” he sighs. “You’re on my mind, still. I hope you know that.”

“I do. I’m thinking about you, too,” your empty hand finds itself on your lower stomach. Lazy, yet sensual circles are traced on your skin over the thin material of your top. Nick is probably thinking innocently, but you can’t help but imagine how he looks in his riding gear. Flannel, leather vest, boots… “By the way, how are the leather pants I got you working out?”

He looks down at his legs as he sits on his bike, reminded of when you shared with him your intrigue over sports biker’s leather. You got him a pair of leather sports pants with knee pads telling him it was for his safety, but secretly, he knew it was because you wanted to see what he would like in them. 

He smirks before answering, “I like how they look, but my junk is being destroyed. I think it’s because it’s my first time wearing them. I’m gonna go into the gas station to change into jeans after you hang up.” He chuckles. 

You cross your legs, squeezing your thighs together for purchase. Why did he have to bring his junk to mind? Now, you’re really thinking about him.

“Well, maybe before you change,” you say slowly. “You could readjust yourself? Maybe it’ll help?”

Little do you know, he’s half-hard beneath the fabric of his pants just from the sweet sound of your voice, his cock straining against his zipper eager to be released.

Nick takes a peak over his shoulder, to the left and right, before grabbing his groin and massaging the velvety black leather hoping the movement will be enough to readjust his cock to the side of his thigh. 

“Fuck,” he hisses in your ear. “Baby, I can’t believe you have me touching myself in public.”

You hold the phone away from your face, giggling into your hand. Teasingly talking into your phone again, “Do you feel better, Folio?”

“Still hurts,” he groans into his microphone. “I bet you’re just imagining my hand wrapping around myself, huh?” He laughs softly.

“Mhm,” you hum in his ear. “Go change into your jeans, baby,” you coo. “Can’t have the new pants wrecking you before you get back to me.” 

You hear Nick say something under his breath, “Oh, my God.”

“You can try breaking the pants in more on your ride back,” you suggest.

“Are you teasing me because I left you behind, Y/N?” Nick asks curiously, you can hear a sly smile creeping behind his question.

“Nuh-uh,” you giggle. “Just having fun with you. I’ll call you later tonight when you’re finally at your hotel.”

“I’ll be expecting it,” he huffs, already exhausted with your little game. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” you hang up and stuff your phone back into the cushion to return your book.

Nick will do whatever you ask him to in the bedroom. Anything you want, you get; whether it’s to have his hands around your throat and to spank you until you scream or to let you ride him until he’s a puddle of a man, whimpering with each grind of your hips.

He makes you feel like the only girl in the world, and you plan to show him just how special he is too.

—

Nick has settled into his hotel room alone. The plush, king-sized bed calls to him as he’s dressed down to deep gray cotton shorts, crew socks, and a Bad Omens merch tee. 

You’re also in bed having eaten dinner and winding down for the night in your pajamas. Propped up against your pillows, you text him eagerly, hoping he’s in the mood to play some more of your game.

You: Hey, baby. Did you make it safe? Are you settled in?

Folio ♡: Yeah, I’m in bed. Gonna go to sleep soon and then to the beach in the morning

Folio ♡: Still thinking about the little stunt you pulled earlier today

The message makes you squirm on your sheets. You want to indulge yourself and stuff your hand into your bottoms, but tonight is about him. 

You: Can you do something for me?

Folio ♡: Anything

You return his message with a sly smile.

You: Put your helmet on

Folio ♡: Y/N

You: Please!

You: And take your shirt off if you’re wearing one

You wait a few minutes before he texts back.

Folio ♡: 1 Attachment

He sends a photo of himself under the soft, yellow light of his bedside lamp leaning against the quilted headboard of his hotel bed. His matte black helmet adorns his head and even with the reflection of his phone and pristine hotel room in the tinted visor, you can see his dark eyes staring you down. 

You giddily bite your finger at the sight of cheeks slightly squished inside and neck tattoo peeking through the bottom. 

Folio ♡: For my little freak

You press the call button and he answers through his helmet after a couple of seconds.

“Nick?” You coo through your phone mic.

In bed, he tilts his head, leaning into your voice as if you’re there singing his name in his ear. He ignores how the speakers of his helmet warp your voice just a bit. It’s just you.

“Y/N,” he replies breathily. “What are you up to?”

“I’m just in bed—,” you start.

“No, baby, what are you up to? Why am I wearing my helmet?” His tone urges you to confess assuming your plans are nefarious.

Wiggling your feet on the soft sheets, you smile against the phone pressed to your cheek. “Oh, I just think you look so good in it,” you spit out quickly. “No other reason… By the way, are you comfortable?” 

“I knew it!” His voice comes through your ear excitedly. “I knew you had a thing for my riding gear... And, yes, I’m comfortable?” His tone changes back to inquisitorial.

“Good.” Time to begin, you think. “I should have told you sooner, but yeah, I like the idea of you in your riding gear. I have a fantasy I want to tell you about.”

“I already assumed after you begged me to wear the leather pants for this trip and me in my gear on my last trip is your lock screen…,” he crosses his arms over his chest, listening to you intently. “Go ahead and tell me. What’s going on in the freaky little head of yours?”

“So you know what it does to me, then, huh?” You sigh softly. “Imagine it with me,” you coo. “We’re on the road together. Just you and me on your back as we ride through the middle of nowhere. I have my arms wrapped around your waist and maybe I get bored because we’ve been riding for so long, so my hands start inching lower, down your stomach, towards your groin—,”

“You’re gonna make us crash,” he interrupts you, chuckling through your speaker. 

You roll your eyes. “Patience, baby, it’s called a fantasy for a reason,” you smile and continue. “Your cock hardens as I fondle you over your jeans as we’re going 80mph alone down a country road. Your hands caress my thighs at your side and your bulge presses against your leather seat, but it just isn’t enough to get you off. You can’t keep riding with me safely while you’re turned on and distracted, right?”

“No, I can’t,” Nick sighs dreamily before clearing his throat. “How do you come up with things like this?” His voice is soft now as he submits to your fantasy.

“I like daydreaming about things I want you to do to me. Are you getting hard, baby?” You ask, tilting your head teasingly as if he can see you.

“Yeah,” Nick doesn’t even realize that his breathing has got heavy; his heart rate speeding up at the crude thoughts you're inserting into his mind.

“Tell me how hard you are,” you push him. Your empty hand soothingly brushes over the tops of your thighs anticipating his response.

“Hard as a rock,” he groans. “Keep going, baby.” Nick curls his toes anxiously wanting to pull his shorts past his hips, but he suspects you’ll be the one to let know when he’s allowed to.

“Good. You pull over to the side of the road and ask me to get on my knees in the dirt—,” 

“What are you wearing while on our ride?” Nick's hands roam over his chest and lower stomach searching for something to do before he can fuck his fist.

“Whatever you want me to wear, baby,” you coo. A relishing grin grows on your face as he feeds his own imagination. You fidget with the hem of your pajamas happily.

His breath catches as if he’s thinking through his favorite pieces of your wardrobe. He hums satisfyingly before answering, “You’re wearing some of those see-through tights and a little, black leather skirt.”

“Mhm,” you agree with his addition to your story. “I’m on my knees unzipping your jeans. I’m pulling them and the band of your underwear down just enough for me to hold your hard cock in my hand,” you pause. “Do you want to touch yourself?”

“Please,” he begs into your ear. “Tell me what to do.”

“Glide your hands down your stomach until you reach your waistband. I want you to feel how soft you are to me,” you instruct. “Then, pull your shorts down your thighs, okay? Don’t put a hand on yourself just yet.”

Nick follows your instructions to a tee. Guiding his fingers over his bare, tattooed stomach, he brushes his palm lightly over the hardened print in his shorts before pulling them down his toned thighs. 

“Lift your helmet and spit into your hand, baby,” you tell him and he follows suit.

Pulling up the bottom of his helmet, you hear him spit into his palm before placing it back on. 

“Imagine me taking you into my mouth,” you say in a low tone. “Slowly, wrap your fingers around your tip.”

Nick brings his forefinger and thumb over his tip gently pushing the two down slowly over his cock while imagining your soft, plush lips taking him in. He sighs in contentment at his first real touch of himself all day since you taunted him at the gas station that afternoon. 

“Do you want me to take you all into my mouth? I’ll let you fuck it,” you talk sweetly into your phone. 

Your words seem to flip a switch in his demeanor. “If I had you on your knees, baby, then there’s no way we’re getting home without me grabbing the back of your head and thrusting my hips into your face,” he’s hissing into your ear rabidly now.

“Do it, Animal,” you taunt him.

“You little—,” he scoffs at your use of his club nickname. Nick eagerly wraps his hand around his shaft, coating himself in his fluids imagining it’s the deep wetness of your mouth around him. 

“I wish I could see how much pre-cum you’ve leaked. Love the way it beads out of you, baby. It tastes so sweet too. My favorite part about being on my knees for you,” you sing into his helmet.

Nick rolls his thumb over himself gathering the clear, dripping liquid from his tip, and mixes it with his saliva. His eyes roll back into his skull as he strokes himself quickly.

“Are you gagging on my cock, Y/N?” He asks, still stuck in the fantasy you’ve described for him. “Need your spit dripping down your chin for me. Need to see your pretty eyes filled with tears.”

“Yes,” you melt to his words and clench your thighs together. He wouldn’t mind if you brought your hand down your pajama bottoms, too, right? You set the call to speaker and place it next to you before beginning to rub satiating circles over your clothed clit imagining him pleasuring himself alone. “Keep going.”

He grunts through the speakerphone. “So close, gonna cum in your mouth,” he announces. “Swallow it.”

You hum slyly at his words, “Don’t you want to cum in my pussy?”

“Fuck, yes,” he moans while slowing his hand, edging himself off his orgasm.

“You pull my lips off of your cock and ask me to stand. You're such a sweetie for rubbing the dirt off my knees,” you giggle.

“You’re welcome,” he chokes out with a laugh. “Then what?”

“Then, you’re not so sweet. You push my hips first into the seat of your bike, folding me over it until my pussy is right at the height you like,” you describe.

“Gonna rip your tights open around your cunt and pull your skirt up over your hips,” he asserts, continuing the fantasy for you. “I’ve always wanted to fuck you over the side of my bike.”

“You’re doing so good, Nick,” you praise. “Now, slide in and fuck me.” 

His gruff moans come through your phone disgustingly as he thrusts his hips into his curled fist. You’re glad you and him don’t live in an apartment or else your neighbors would hear the filthy things spewing from his lips. 

“Take my cock. Take it all.”

“Feels so good. Love you wrapped around me.”

“Your pussy was made for me.”

“Do you want to cum, Animal?” You ask him sultrily.

“Yes, fuck, yes, please,” he whines. “Gonna coat your insides.”

“Cum for me, then,” you instruct.

“Oh, shit,” he moans loudly and bucks his hips into his slick fist as he comes undone. Ropes of his cum coat his stomach until he's spent and the rest spills over the thumb wrapped around his tip. Your name continuously falls off his lips in different tones: dreamily and roughly.

As he comes down, he shakily breathes through your speaker and his breaths gradually turn into soft laughter in disbelief at the experience you’ve put him through. “That was amazing. Did you get off, too?” He asks hopefully. 

“Thank you for entertaining me,” you smile while picking the phone back up to your ear. “I was touching myself a bit,” you admit to him. “But, I’m going to use my toys once you nod off to sleep.”

“Now, that’s payback for me leaving you behind,” he scoffs with a laugh. “You have no idea the things I’m gonna do to you when I get back.”

“Can’t wait for it,” you say slyly as your fingers brush over the wet spot you’ve made through the material of your pajamas. 

“I’m never leaving you at home again.”

[bearbait-adventures]

Okay, so I gotta work so I have to sleep. But I did start a thing, I will give what I have to you now.

I'm gonna put it under the cut, there is no sex but it does refer to some past sex. It's a continuation of a story I have on AO3 called "Crashing." Which is in the same universe and technically going on at the same time as "Saving David." The chapter is a little out of order. I skipped ahead a tiny bit. But I hope you like what I got so far. And without further adue, here's a SharkMaine storyline. @rvbrarepairweekdos

Terrence wakes to his phone's notification sound, much to his disappointment. He was sure he set it on do not disturb before collapsing into bed last night, but apparently he hadn't made it that far before his brain clocked out for the night.

He groans as he sits up hating the way his aches and pains woke when he woke. Damn rods and pins and plates everywhere, his skin pulls and fights him at every turn. This so far is gearing up to be one of those, not so great days.

After rubbing the sleep from his eye he drags the phone towards him and flips it over tapping the screen until he gets to the text that was so damn important he had to get up on his day off. He sits up straighter when he realizes it from the new guy. Maine or Ethan, Ethan Maack as he had later found out.

Maine: I'm sorry to bother you. On your day off, but my car broke down on the way to the mechanic. I don't know anyone here yet to ask for help.

Sharkface hops out of bed after reading the message. Maine works the same shift as him, so he knows it's also his day off. He's already helped this guy twice. Too bad he never sleeps with the same guy twice or he might say a third time’s a charm. Sharky snickers to himself As he gets dressed before sending a reply.

Terrence: All I got is a motorcycle, so you'll have to ride bitch. Send me your location.

Maine: Location sent.

As Terrence brings up the marker he sighs. It's right along the highway, he's not sure what happened, and he's no mechanic. Most he can do is offer the guy a ride the rest of the way. Maybe he can help him talk the mechanic into sending someone to get it with their own tow truck. Save the guy a little money.

His hand rubs along his shoulder as he thinks, his finger pressing into the bruise that's still there from Ethan biting into it as he fucked him senseless. A habit he's picked up since then.

That was before he knew his name, before he knew he was going to be a semi-permanent fixture in his everyday life. He grinds his teeth and presses a little harder into the bruise groaning softly as he does. It hurt just right, too bad he wouldn't be getting another one.

It's weird that Maine hadn't figured him out yet actually. He was sure he would, he's a rather unique individual, after all. He shakes his head dispelling those thoughts for now. He hopes his spare helmet will fit the guy.

*****

Ethan has been waiting along the side of the highway for a bit now. Waiting for his tow truck and his calvary to arrive. He hadn't realized that all Terrence had was a motorcycle. But he wasn't about to complain about it. The man was coming to help him after all, again. He's glad he ran into the guy. Whether the guy was crazy like Locus and Felix at the bar had said it didn't matter.

Maine liked crazy and he liked the game they seemed to be playing. He knows Sharkface and Terrence are the same person. No way, that was a coincidence. It may have been dark in that bar but it wasn't that dark, that dyed hair, what little he saw of those tattoos, when he had him face down in the mattress as he moaned and begged under him. No mistake. Same guy.

That's it for now. I'll try to finish it later. ><

[yuzukult]

after midnight 01 (m) || jjk & reader

title: after midnight 01 - crepuscule  pairing: jeon jungkook x reader genre: angst, smut, fluff, fwb!au, fuckboy!jk, doctor!reader word count: 6.3k warnings: unprotected explicit smut, insinuating drunk driving a motorcycle but he’s actually sober by then a/n: :D disclaimer, i am not a doctor so idk if i’m right about certain things but good thing it’s a fanfic and not real life. i also did end up switching this from a one-shot to a mini-series, so if you’re uninterested in being on the taglist, let me know! if you want to be added, also let me know :D

taglist: @prodyg​ ; @jungkooksseuphoria​ ; @typingtomato​ ; @ggukkieland​ ; @joondala​ ; @jinsalpaca​ ; @bang-woolssi​

He only likes seeing you after midnight.

Loose ebony strands of hair cascading over those darkened orbs as they lock with yours, you swallow. Attempting to push down the anxiety lodged in your throat had been a reoccurring reaction because Jeon Jungkook does things to you that you couldn’t truly understand.

Stomach churning, heart palpitating with profusely sweaty palms, you clench them into a fist to hold your fear tight, unseen to his naked eyes. It takes courage, and a lot of confidence to do this, so you gather it from the shots of vodka before storming to his apartment when he sends you that signature, “come over?” text.

“What are you even talking about?” He queries, leaning against the doorframe into his home. His home, a place you frequented yet never felt like you belonged, constantly feeling lonely although always caught within his cold embrace. “You drunk?”

“Only slightly,” you admit, only because he reads through your exterior like a book for dummies. “But I meant what I said, and I’m not taking it back.”

He puffs his cheeks, straightening his posture before shrugging heedlessly. “Imma give you one last chance. I’ll pretend you never said it, and you can come in like you always do.”

Last chance. Do you take it? Do you leave it? But you’ve already given yourself that pep talk in the mirror, looking back at your reflection of sunken eyes, messy hair, and smudged mascara. It’d be a waste if you just caved in.

“I mean it. If we’re not going to be serious, I don’t want this anymore.”

Jeon Jungkook only likes seeing you after midnight.

The rustling and bustling of the ER is a familiar sight for you. Although it used to be in the mornings, where the sun shines through the blinds, it’s now just the darkness outside peering in; there isn’t warmth on your skin from the sun’s rays, just the coolness in the air that the night brings. The moon is the brightest during your work hours, and it’s only because you requested it to be.

“Don’t you usually go off with your boyfriend late at night?” Nurse Hyerim asks with the tilt of her head. It’s an innocent question, one that she’s put together with information through speculation, but she’s wrong. You don’t have a boyfriend, and you haven’t had one in a while.

“Ah, no, he wasn’t a boyfriend. Just some guy I was sleeping with.”

Hyerim frowns, leaning against the counter of the nurses’ station but her eyes are full of intrigue. “Oh no,” she says exaggeratedly with a sigh. “How could a pretty girl like you not have a boyfriend? If you can’t land him, what does that mean for all the average girls in the world? Is that guy you’re sleeping with not into you?”

This… was sort of true and sort of not true.

If anything, Jeon Jungkook was a species of his own. Not only was he a guy with a sex libido of a rabbit, he’s obsessed his looks, cocky, and somehow manages to grind your gears utilizing just a few words in his sentences. How your arrangement came to be—you don’t want to relive the memory and hope to keep it on the back burner. But nonetheless, it had always been clear that he just wants one thing—to fuck and duck. 

He is into you, so Hyerim is sort of wrong about that. But he’s not… into you, so to speak, but interested in what’s underneath that layer of fabric you dress over your skin. He is into what’s hidden in the material of your thick jeans: the meat of your ass and what your pussy can offer. So, then again, maybe Hyerim is right. 

“Mm, something of that nature. He just doesn’t want a relationship.” The more vague, the better. The people who work in the hospital with you aren’t your friends, you know that much, because more often than not, they gossip and spread rumors about everyone there.

She rolls her eyes. Truthfully, you’re having a hard time trying to decipher if she genuinely feels irritation because of your situation, or if she’s just faking it for conversation. “I can’t stand that. You’re a hardworking woman—strutting away in the hallways of a hospital, exceeding expectations of those around her. You don’t have time to deal with a guy who can’t even figure out if he wants a serious relationship or not!”

Hyerim isn’t Jungkook, but they both share a common trait. Both have somewhat good intentions, but they suck at executing it.

“Uh, thanks, Hyerim.” You force a grin. The pager attached to the waistband of your scrubs vibrates, and you look up at her apologetically. “I’m being summoned.”

She waved you off. “Go, go!”

You’re gone for hours. Six hours to be exact, and your feet are numb, so numb that they’re eventually sore when you drop yourself on the lounge room’s couch, finally regaining the signal from your nerves that yes, they’re your feet and they hurt. But this is normal. Working in the ER in the late hours of the night is infamously known to be busy all the time, and it’s why you take up on the offer willingly. Usually, after midnight, you’re Jungkook’s. But tonight, you’re not.

But for the past two weeks, you belong to your career. It helps to forget a little, mostly because he’s been on your mind when you’re not dragging your beat up sneakers on the tiles of the hospital. At first, it seemed like a good idea to let go; you obviously had your reasons for it. Yet again, part of you… was missing him, as repulsive as that sounds. Where are those late night calls asking “you up?” with his raspy, husky voice over the line, and your notifications don’t miss his contact name with the phrase, “we fucking tonight?” attached to the text. 

And yet, although those traits of his weren’t your favorite, you still missed the motherfucker. Was it common for people to go through this? Long for a fuckboy, wish you could change him but you actually never can? In the end, the only person hurt is you, and you put yourself in that position in the first place. You’re not even sure if you liked him in that way, or if it’s because of the company. But… you sort of did like him in some aspect. It was hard to understand. 

So, here you were. Spending the late night with your swollen, tired feet propped onto the coffee table and body draped over the old black couch with tears and discoloration in the leather. 

Although the hospital is pretty updated, the lounge room remains in the same condition it’s been since the late 1990s. The TV is a small yet a thick box that’s in the top corner of the room and frequently displays old shows on repeat through the antenna. The furniture is aged, but not like fine wine, rather similar to the way milk does; dining chairs wobbly, wood from both seats and tables an unappealing shade between beige and yellow, plus the ancient appliances that require some type of special technique to get them to work really seals the deal. So basically clunky and smelly.

There’s a rerun of Full House broadcasting, and it brings you back to the days where you’d sneak downstairs past your bedtime to watch TV on mute with the closed captions on, just so you could watch Nick@Nite. It’s comforting. But you’ve learned to not get comfortable at work though.

Before you could enjoy the last five minutes of an episode, your pager goes off.

Guess it’s time to head back to work.

The hours pass by rather quickly, mostly because for some reason, in this specific hospital, crazy things happen at night so it keeps you on the tip of your toes and it’s always amusing. You’ve already encountered a couple of weird scenarios—a dildo stuck in someone’s asshole, four jellybeans in a kid’s nostril, and this one girl diagnosed herself with cancer because well… she’s a Cancer because she was born on June 28. 

“Listen, Doc. I’ve got cancer. Says so on horoscopes.com.”

Scribbling some notes down on her chart, you pause when she says those words, and you glance up at her. It's no surprise that there’s people out there like this anymore. “Not… WebMd?”

She blinks. “What’s that?”

You click your tongue. “Right. Uh, well…” you sneak a glimpse at her chart, “Doyeon. I don’t think you have cancer, but if you really want me to double check, I can get some scans and tests done for you. I don’t want you to feel like I’m not listening to you, but I’m also not going to milk you for your money if I truly think you’re okay.”

Doyeon doesn’t seem to agree with you so she takes up the offer for more tests. 

When you leave, you drop by the nurse’s station to hand off the clipboard. “Nurse Hyerim, get the proper scans and tests for potential cancer protocols for patient Doyeon, will you?”

Her eyes widened. “Is she okay?”

“Mm,” humming quietly, you nod. “She’s a June 28th baby. Thinks she has cancer.”

Hyerim snorts, hand immediately coming up to cover her mouth to plug her burst of laughter, and in response, you shake your head in disbelief. Why does it feel like you’re the only one with weird patient stories? “Yes, I know, but please get her the tests, will you? I know I’m technically doing this just to entertain her, but I’m still going to proceed, nonetheless. It’ll bring her some comfort.”

“Well, if you thought Doyeon was a treat, room 18B is actually amazing. Kinda feel bad about what happened, but at least he’s hot. Like… super hot. Maybe you should use him as a rebound and replace that one guy you were sleeping around with.”

Rolling your eyes, you’re already on route to the said patient, casually grabbing his patient chart from the slot outside of his room. It’s easier said than done, obviously, because you’ve been trying to find a worthy candidate to become your future husband and so far, you’ve hit duds. And honestly, you’re over Hyerim giving you unsolicited advice. When’s the last time she landed a date?

“So… you’ve… got cuts on your face and a stab wound on your body from… an ex-girlfriend who wasn’t happy with the result of your relationship?” You scan the clipboard full of the patient’s information quickly—male, 5’10”, around 150-160lbs, doesn’t smoke or abuse drugs but he looks to have an addiction to attract crazy women it seems because it’s not the first time something like this has happened.

“Correction,” a voice deep, thick and oddly familiar, speaks. “She was never a girlfriend.”

When your eyes detach from the clipboard and onto the patient, your heart stops. 

You had to take a double take on the chart just to see if it’s really his name on there. This isn’t a coincidence, is it? Why is it when you run from him, he’s still here?

“Jeon Jungkook.” It’s said through gritted teeth, words saturated with annoyance and displeasure with his presence. He grins cheekily, laying back on the hospital bed with his hand on the wound, despite the fact it’s been sewn and gauzed up. “Uh, I see that the nurses took care of you pretty well.”

There's that smirk. It sits on his face without care, just as how he feels for you, and even though you can only imagine the pain he’s going through right now from his injury, Jungkook still has the ability to act like a dick. “Yeah. That one… in training… What's her name? She was cute. But not hot like you.”

You need to make this quick. The longer you stay here, the easier you’d get roped into his games once again, and there’s no way this could happen. There’s a clear reason why you wanted to break things off if Jungkook didn’t want to try for a relationship—and no matter how many times the two of you fuck, the outcome will stay the same, and so does how you feel about the situation.

“Anyways, keep the area bandaged and dry for a day. Then don’t forget to clean it twice a day after that, and rub some petroleum jelly on it afterwards. Replace the bandage if it starts seeping through again, too. You can come back in about two weeks, and we can get the stitches removed. Try taking pain relievers if you’re hurting.”

Just when you’ve finished writing down your notes on his patient chart, ready to exit the room, Jungkook’s hand grasps onto your wrist. The look of confusion washes over you. “Uh… yes?”

“Will you… drop by?”

Perplexed, you quirk a brow. “Why would I do that?”

“Baby,” he says, tone soft and filled with a facade of vulnerability. “A girl I used to sleep with stabbed me. You’re not gonna take care of me?”

“Jungkook, I have hundreds of patients to take care of. I don’t go into their homes and tend to their wounds.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t have their dick in your mouth now, did you?”

Appalled, you pull away from his hold. “Jungkook, I thought I told you that we weren’t a thing anymore. I’m done with just fucking—I need to get into something serious. And you’re not equipped with the feelings or the traits to be that someone serious, evidently.”

Annoyed, he throws his head back. “But why? We were doing so well. I can’t even jerk off without the thought of you in my head before cumming.”

Disgusting. “You wanna know why?”

“Fuck yeah. Isn’t that what I’ve been asking for? A reason?”

“Because my little sister is getting married soon.” You blurt. Truthfully, hearing the words out loud doesn't make you feel any better because it only confirms that was a reality.

Jungkook groans. “Babe, that’s it? The fuck that gotta do anything with us?”

“My little sister is getting married,” you reiterate lamently. “It’s embarrassing that the older sibling can’t settle down. I’m getting to that age, Guk, I need a boyfriend who can eventually become a husband. Then I can have kids and—“

He whines, carding his fingers through those beautiful black locks that used to have your own fingers raking through and pulling, especially when he’s in between your legs, tongue out and— “Why do you even want that? Shit is boring.”

“Well… I want it.”

“You want that suburban house, nice neighborhood with top tier schools, driving around in one of those minivans or SUVs?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Sorry, baby, I can’t get you that. But you can have my dick in your pussy—“

You flick his wound gently over the gauze and Jungkook lets out the loudest moan. “We can’t be fuck buddies anymore. Let alone friends. Go back to the chick who stabbed you. Seems like she’s into that kinky shit anyways.”

With a twirl on your heel, you’re out of his room before he could squeeze in another word. 

Ugh.

The wedding invitation in hand is embellished with probably eight types of glitter, an overly swirly font that has made the writing barely legible, and a picture of your little sister with her fiancé, hugging each other eagerly as if they can’t wait for the official date.

Tossing it on the counter, you opt for popping open a bottle of wine instead. 

Breaking things off with Jungkook wasn't your favorite route for a solution. Quite frankly, it would’ve been nice if he just… became those guys in movies about friends with benefits who fall for their fuck buddy. But you’re not surprised. Jungkook is Jungkook, and he remains the same.

When you reach for a glass in the cabinets and place it onto your granite countertops, your heart drops. The memory of your bare ass on the cold surface with Jungkook’s calloused hands pulling you closer as he pistons his hips into you suddenly comes to mind. The sweat, the heat, the sounds of wet skin slapping against each other—you shake your head. You should not be thinking of Jungkook right now. He’s a player and that’s it. He said so himself—he couldn’t provide that type of life for you, no matter how hard you try to convince him. He wasn’t worth your time. 

But when the doorbell rings and Jungkook stands outside in the hallway of your apartment complex with roses, hair slicked back and his signature leather jacket, you’re beyond confused. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day, baby.” 

Unbothered, you step away from the entrance but you don’t close the door on him and he takes it as an invitation. Although acting aloof, the fact that Jungkook traveled all the way to your apartment when he’s often complained about the distance is truly surprising. “And what did I say that suddenly gave you an epiphany?”

“Am I ever gonna find pussy as bomb as yours?” 

Your face is in your hands. “Jungkook, seriously?”

“Wait!” He exclaims, gesturing frantically for you to pause. “I’m not done. That’s what I initially thought, alright? Then I did some digging. I don’t know how I feel about you.”

“This conversation isn’t getting any better.”

Jungkook grumbles. “Will you just wait!” 

Your silence as an answer is an unspoken way to say that you comply. “I haven’t dated in a while and… baby, I’m a bit rusty. I can get in a girl’s pants in seconds—“ there's that glare from you, but the look he returns back is soft. “—but I haven’t actually liked anyone more than a friend. So… I kinda wanna try it with you. Sex with you is… honestly, top tier. Never have any girl before you get even close. Figured, if that’s the case, I gotta go for it before some dickhead snatches you up.”

Grimacing, you turn to the boiling water with pasta. It’s been a while since you had “dinner food” at a normal time, so with it being your first day off and already having a glass of wine at two in the afternoon, you only seem slightly sane. “So, you only wanna date me because you like the sex.”

“Uh, technically, yes. But also—I don’t think I want someone else to uh, have sex with you. And uh, I don’t know anyone who is… as great at it as you are.”

“That’s all?” Stirring the carbs with a pair of chopsticks, you never break contact with the food on the stove to look at him.

“I mean… let’s also step back and look at the picture here. You’re a doctor—you think I could ever get a chance to be with a doctor again?”

That catches your attention. Your head jolts to look at the boy who still stands in the middle of your kitchen with roses in his hands. “What?”

He blinks. “My family would love you if I took you home.”

You’re such a bitch. Is that really all it took?

How could someone considered as independent and confident with an intimidating demeanor be so weak with a guy that has nothing useful to integrate into your life other than his dick?

He definitely takes your actions as a ‘yes’ to being more than friends because he’s hovering over you, hands on either side of your head with your legs wrapped around his waist while thrusting into your warmth. The ends of his hair are drenched in sweat, brows furrowed while focusing on his movements, and the saccharine moans that escape his lips have you worked up for barely doing anything and he’s about to lose himself.

The Jeon Jungkook is completely weak for you.

Only for sex, that is.

You won’t lie though. It’s not a one-sided relationship—he’s good with his hips and being a pro at sex is his best quality. He’s not boyfriend material, you sadly admit, but god, he can eat a girl out and fuck you hard and deep.

“We shouldn’t fuck,” the words coming out of your mouth don’t match the way your body moves with his. “One, you have open wounds, and two, we’re not in a serious relationship—oh, fuck, Jungkook, right there—”

With a smirk on his face, he abides by instruction but you really want to slap that look off. “You’re a doctor, right?” He slows his movements purposely to irritate you.

“Yes,” you huff.

“Great, ‘cause then you can just patch me up afterwards.”

His lips ghost the skin of your neck before planting gentle kisses that have your stomach churning. He doesn’t whisper sweet nothings into your ear, quite the opposite, he says the dirtiest things. He calls you a slut, asks if you like it when he tosses you around and uses you for his own pleasure, but he still confirms that you’re okay and the safe word is there if you need it.

Jungkook may say a lot of stupid things, but during sex, he’s a selfless ‘lover.’ You always cum at least three times before he does, and when your stomach tightens, he can read your expressions well enough that his fingers reach down to you with your clit until the coil within snaps.

He throws himself off of you, sprawled on your messed up bed sheets while trying to catch his breath. Pasta and wine long forgotten, at least you got off… right?

“So… that’s a yes, right? To be my girlfriend?”

You scrunch up your nose. “I don’t know, Jungkook. You’re not exactly ‘boyfriend material.’ I need someone I can marry later.”

“But you asked me,” he exasperates, turning to lean on his arm, observing your expression cautiously. “You asked me if I wanted to be serious and exclusively in a relationship. I don’t necessarily want to be serious, but I can sort of try that and I’m cool with the exclusive part. It took me a bit of time to get here, but let me at least try, will you?”

“Fuck boys stay fuck boys, Jeon Jungkook.”

“Yeah, but I haven’t fucked anyone other than you in the past two years.”

Truthfully, you don’t know what to say to this, and thankfully, you don’t have to gather up a response because there’s a seeping blood stain in your bedsheets. “Jeon Jungkook, you idiot, you tore open your stitches!”

“You look mega hot like this.”

Nose scrunched up at his comment, you make it an obligation to put a bit more pressure on his wound and he winces at the impact. “Baby, what the fuck was that for?”

“For talking like an asshole.” 

Leaning against the leather sofa, he lets out another whine, head thrown back with a slight recoil at the disinfect you apply. It burns, but it’s a consequence he has to pay for disregarding your warnings earlier. 

“But you do. You look so hot like this,” but what he means to say is that you look beautiful like this, with the penthouse view through your floor to ceiling windows where it overlooks the city, the dim lighting reflecting into your apartment from the buildings nearby. 

But Jungkook isn’t great with words, and to put it simply, he thinks you’re hot.

You only roll your eyes, letting a sigh escape from your lips as you toss the used pads into the trash bin. “Try not to move so much, will you?” After washing your hands with sanitizer, you reach over to grab your tweezers, needle driver and thread to begin suturing. “Both right now and for future instances with your stitches. Which means no sex.”

Jungkook finches at this. “Then what are we supposed to do?”

Raising a brow midway through, you pause briefly before continuing. “Why is it we when you're the one with stitches?”

Tongue poking his cheek, he turns his head away with a scoff. He clenches his jaw with a hidden groan as you make another stitch, sneaking a glance at the boy. “You never answered my question, by the way. I asked you to be my girlfriend.”

It’s your turn to scoff, while tossing the needle into the metal pan on the table with a clang. “You weren’t serious about that though. You only said that so I’d keep sleeping with you.”

A smirk dresses upon his lips. “Well, seems like the years you’ve been with me helped you read me like a book.”

You click your tongue. “It goes both ways.” Slipping off your gloves, you push the table aside before getting up to make way into your kitchen. Jungkook follows suit, stealing a seat at the stool at your island countertop, picking up the wedding invitation your sister mailed. 

“Is this why you wanna get settled so badly?”

Turning the knob of the stove, you let out a puff of air from your cheeks. Your sister’s wedding is a topic that haunts you worse than whatever it is in the Conjuring movie franchise, and quite frankly, you’d rather be in that than this. “Sort of. It adds to it. I’m tired of watching my sister live the life that I want.”

Glitter sticks to his fingertips so he tries rubbing it off on the counter while furrowing his brows at both your response and the shiny plastic. 

“Are you sure that this is what you want and not just the idea of it that interests you? You’re a doctor, you realize that, right?” He likes to ask stupid questions, apparently. “You barely have time as it is.”

Grabbing two plates off the dish rack, you lay them on the granite countertop before using tongs to pick up the spaghetti. “I normally wouldn’t tell you this because we’re just… sleeping together, but I got offered a promotion. I still have time to consider since the guy I’ll be replacing has a couple months before retiring, but it’s a steady and firm role. The hours are fixed, and maybe I’ll get calls every now and then for consulting advice, but it’s… a solid position. No more on-call shifts, no more working through the late hours at the ER… that’s all done. I can finally stop using work as an excuse to not get what I want.”

He spots a picture of your sister and her fiance with smiles that stretch from cheek to cheek. She doesn’t have too many features that resemble yours, but the hint of it gives the ‘sibling’ part away. They’re both dressed loosely in white clothes, feet dug into the warmth of the sand with the wind blowing through their hair. They seem… happy. Then, Jungkook looks up at you.

You… don’t seem happy.

If it’s one thing that Jungkook doesn’t think about, it’s dating. A taboo subject, an uncharted territory, an… unfamiliar topic, really. He doesn’t date, and it’s nothing personal against the women he’s interested in, he simply just prefers it this way. It’s convenient. He isn’t required to remember anniversaries or grab flowers and chocolate on Valentine’s Day. No one is disappointed when the gift he gives on Christmas isn’t fitted to expectations. Date nights aren’t anticipated to be perfect. Sure, he’s lonely sometimes, but the temporary company is helpful. And truthfully, since he met you and created this arrangement, he hasn’t met anyone since.

And you’re both company like a girlfriend without the hassle of having one.

That is, until now.

You’re not begging him though, to be his. That’s the difference between you and his one-night stands. Sure, you might’ve said the words, “if we’re not going to be serious, I don’t want this anymore,” but he knows you don’t mean that you want him specifically, you just want what comes in a real relationship. You want the “white picket fence with a single home” fantasy, with two kids and a working husband. Maybe not those things exactly, but the idea of it is what you’re driven to now.

But the question lies: will it be Jungkook who provides it for you?

“Was I convenient?” Leaning back against the chair, he drops the invitation on the table when you bring over a plate of spaghetti and meatballs to him. Twirling a fork in your own serving, you can’t help but quirk a brow at his sudden question.

“Wasn’t that the point of the arrangement? You said so yourself when we discussed this. I have the worst work hours and you were tired of dealing with the aftermath of your hook-ups,” you gesture to the stab wound in his abdomen. “I mean, your stitches say it for you.”

“And things are different now. You wanna end this because you want a boyfriend.”

“Well, yeah—”

He stabs his meatball with the fork you gave him. “So, how’s that going to work out? Are you going to go on dates? Blind dates? Make an account on one of those dating sites where people are desperate to find someone on?”

You shrug, food no longer seemingly appetizing from his debriefing. “Why are you constantly on my case about this type of stuff? You don’t even really want to date, you just wanna fuck. Jungkook, there’s so many other girls out that you could be sleeping with—me and you were a limitation.”

Something churns within the pits of his stomach, swirling and spinning like those teacup rides at Disneyland. The idea of you being with someone else doesn’t quite sit well with him, and for some odd reason, he’s adamant on making sure that you realize you don’t want that lifestyle.

Crimson isn’t your favorite color, but you’re bold tonight, so this skintight dress in this bloody shade of red will have to do since it does the job of hugging your curves well.

This blind date was organized by a good friend, Namjoon, who has every intention of setting you up with any hot guy he sees in his way. More often than not, you’d reject his suggestions, mostly because of work but now that you’re ready to settle, it’s finally time to take up the offer.

“I’m Seonghwa,” the man greets, all pretty-like and not full of arrogance like Jungkook. Seonghwa is the epitome of a handsome man; sharp jawline, warm eyes, and a wondrous smile—you can already see what standards Namjoon had in mind for you. 

Seonghwa isn’t only attractive, he’s charming with an abundance of manners. He’s filtered when he speaks, unlike another guy you know, and he listens attentively to everything you share, even chiming in with his own stories without sneaking in a douchey comment. He’s kind, and cares a lot for his family, especially his parents (such an ideal boyfriend). Seonghwa talks about how he drops by his childhood home every weekend to whip up breakfast for his parents and siblings, catching up with their kids and even sharing a couple drinks during brunch. You’re so engrossed with his story that you were starting to imagine yourself there—

—But that fantasy pops out of your head the moment Jeon Jungkook’s name appears on your lock screen.

“Someone important? You should get that.” Ugh. He’s too sweet. “I know you’re busy—you’re a doctor. If it’s a work message, you should take it.”

You wave him off with a soft smile. “It’s okay. They should be fine. They know I’m on a date and there are plenty of doctors at the hospital that could assist.”

Then your phone goes off again.

Seonghwa quirks a brow, putting aside his cloth napkin after wiping the side of his mouth. “Take it. I understand! Don’t feel like I’ll get upset if you step out for a bit! Patients are a priority, I get it.”

If he only knew that it was just an ex-fuck buddy.

Looking at him apologetically, you excuse yourself to the bathroom so you could call this so-called dying patient.

“What is it? Why do you keep blowing up my phone?” You hiss, bending slightly over while facing the wall to avoid the conversation being heard by bystanders. “You realize when I don’t text back it means that I’m busy, right?”

“Baby,” there goes that nickname again, this time it’s said with a slur in his voice. “I miss you.”

“Are you drunk?” 

“Slightly,” he hums, eyes droopy but you don’t have to see him to know what he looks like. He’s probably got weakened limbs despite all that muscle, resting against the wall of some club that you could tell from the thudding over the line. “Miss ‘ya though.”

“And what do you want me to do about it?”

Expecting something cheesy, you’re only met with brief silence. “You’re not at work, are you?”

You swallow. 

How did he figure that out? You’ve shortly mentioned that you had a shift tonight, only because Jungkook is respectful when you’re at work so he bothers you less frequently. But the fact that he was spamming your phone means he knows something is up. 

“Uh, I didn’t—“

“You’re on a date.” There’s less alcohol in his words now, it’s almost entirely sober in seconds. “Who are you on a date with? Is he cute? Nice? Could take good care of you when he’s your husband?”

You sigh. “Jungkook, stop it. Tell me where you’re at and I can call you an Uber home.”

“No. I wanna know—do you think he’ll be able to take care of you as only a wife, and not a lover in bed? Would he be able to give you as many orgasms as I do?”

“Jungkook—“

“Answer me.” It’s a stern, hard response, coming from a boy who is nothing but casual. “What’s the point in being with someone who doesn’t make you feel as good as I make you feel?”

“I’m hanging up,” you announce, deciding that you don’t need alcohol to help boost your confidence in order to stand your ground and avoid caving into his mysterious tactics so easily. “I’m on a date, whether you like it or not.”

Jungkook doesn’t like that you’ve gotten this daring, especially since you often shared that same lenient, laid back personality he had, and the fact that you actually end the call afterwards without waiting for a reply makes the hairs on his arms stand up.

But you, on the other hand, were feeling a bit… pleased with the date and happy that you brushed Jungkook off without much difficulty. Seonghwa was endearing, had goals of his own, and been a gentleman throughout the whole date. It felt successful, up to when he drove you home that night to your apartment complex, just before he leaned over to help you remove your seatbelt.

And that’s where you see him.

Behind Seonghwa, past the window and at the front entrance. He’s resting his body weight onto his motorcycle while in that signature leather jacket of his, hair slicked back into a ponytail and a glare that pierces through the thick layers of Seonghwa’s car. 

He sees you. He definitely sees you, despite the tints.

Chewing on your bottom lip anxiously, you desperately want to give Seonghwa that goodbye kiss. But Jungkook is impatiently waiting, boot tapping on the ground with his arms crossed over his chest, all while sucking on the inside of his cheek with a scowl plastered on his face.

“Listen,” you begin, fiddling with the strap of your purse between your fingers. “I had a great time tonight. Call me? I uh, have a guest, apparently, but I’d love to see you again.”

Seonghwa glances out the window on his side, spotting Jungkook whose nose twitches when their eyes lock. “Him? Do you want me to walk you inside?”

“No, he’s no threat… just annoying.”

He smiles, and it tugs on your heartstrings along with the churn in your stomach. “Well, okay, that’s fine. I’ll… text you, then? I don’t want to push you if you’re not interested.”

“No!” You exclaim, startling yourself at the sudden response. “I mean, no, no, you’re great! Text me, really. I think… we should give this a shot.”

When Seonghwa drives away, the grin on your face wipes away faster than lightning strikes.

Standing in front of him, you heave a heavy sigh. “Jungkook.”

“Baby.” He shoots back without hesitation. It’s supposed to be used as a term of endearment, but Jungkook has different intentions when he uses it. “Cherry red dress? Bold option.”

“You’re drunk. Did you drive here like that?”

Jungkook completely disregards your question, brows furrowed with a twitch of his nose. “You’re snappy,” he observes, amused. “You’re mad that you couldn’t invite him in because I’m here.”

Were you that discernible? “A bit. I was hoping to invite him in for a cup of coffee.”

The boy scoffs. “You know that an invitation inside your apartment after a date means fucking, right? Were you gonna fuck him, baby?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” 

His gaze shoots at you like lasers, practically penetrating through you. He’s in between angry and annoyed, unsure which one would be more appropriate for the situation, and the fact that you continue to remain calm has his heart palpitating in disbelief of your reactions. You were the one who came by his apartment and asked for more, but why was he so infuriated?

But the way your hair cascades down to your shoulders, lips tinted in a lovely shade of berry with layers of mascara on your lashes to showcase those gorgeous eyes, it’s like his heart turns into putty. “You… look pretty tonight,” he blurts, and parts of his stomach begin to churn because you’re not dolled up for him.

And maybe it’s the way he says it that really takes the cake for you, but it’s mostly from the fact that Jungkook has never said those very words to you before. He’s called you sexy, and hot before but never… pretty, or beautiful. 

Just like that, you’re the one who shapeshifts into silly putty.

“Would you like to come up for coffee?”

next chapter →

[smoaking-greenarrow]

If I Tremble chapter 21: Clutch

Rated M

(Gif)

“Do you think in another life, or on one of those other earths...you could’ve been a mechanic?”

Oliver paused for a moment, and then continued adjusting the gear on his motorcycle, not turning around. His hands and shirt were covered in grease from the engine. It was late.

He was tired.

And he was sad.

Tomorrow, he’d have to say goodbye to his beloved bike. The same one that had helped him escape some risky missions unscathed. Carried him through high speed chases with criminals. But most importantly, the bike held some of his fondest memories. And all of those fond memories involved Felicity pressed against him somehow.

Oliver had owned this motorcycle when he first met her. He could still remember the first time she got on it and how good it had been just to feel her there.

It was dark and raining. They’d just had a long day at Queen Consolidated; the kind of day where he was irritable and snappy with Felicity and she’d given it right back to him. They took a short cease-fire in their snide back and forth so they could go home, eat dinner, and get ready for another night of vigilante business. But the break hadn’t done either of them any good. They were still at each other’s throats by the time they met up with Digg at the lair. Unfortunately, it was also a quiet night on the streets, so Oliver and Felicity had nothing to do but bicker.

After a few hours of it, they finally decided to call it a night. Or rather, after Diggle got sick of playing the middleman, he called it a night for all of them.

But then Felicity’s car wouldn’t start. Digg had already left, so Oliver offered to drive her home. Because of course he wasn’t going to leave her stranded in the Glades. No matter how much she tested his patience on a daily basis, he knew that he cared about her. A lot.

And Felicity accepted the ride, not knowing that he’d brought his bike that night.

Oliver tossed his leg over the seat, unable to hide his smirk as she gaped at him. He’d wondered, once or twice, or maybe more often than he was ready to admit...what it would be like to have Felicity on the back of his motorcycle.

“Hop on, Miss Smoak,” he offered her the helmet, his voice thick and his eyes trained on her.

Her mouth hung open and she shook her head.

Hesitant little thing.

Felicity had never been on a motorcycle. Which he knew. The first time she’d seen his bike, she’d told him as much. And she’d informed him that she had no desire to ever be on one. To be fair, she’d also seen the way he drove, so her fear wasn’t entirely misplaced. He could see it in her eyes that she wanted to change her mind. That she wanted to find another way home. But after the tension they’d been sharing all day? Felicity wasn’t about to back down to him.

So she climbed on the back, grumbling to herself about the bus stop a few streets away.

As if he was ever going to leave her at a bus stop alone.

He took his time getting to her apartment, driving slow, making sure she felt safe and sound.

To his amusement, Felicity loved it.

When they finally reached her home and he helped her off the bike, Felicity was smiling ear to ear. And he knew it wouldn’t be the last time he got her on his motorcycle.

It became sort of a goal for him, actually.

He started taking his bike every day in the hopes that she might need a ride.

Even as the broken man he was back then, it had felt right to have Felicity there with him. That first night and every night after it. The countless rides with her, all while he’d been falling in love.

Granted, ever since Mia was born, it had mostly been collecting dust in their garage, but it still held a sentimental value that made it hard for Oliver to let go of it.

“Mechanics are pretty sexy,” Felicity hummed, pulling him back to the moment.

Oliver turned around to look at her, letting out a sigh as he grabbed a rag off the floor and wiped his hands. “And men who have daughters and sensible cars...they’re not sexy?”

Felicity made a face, lifting her hand to wave the baby monitor she’d brought from Mia’s room. “Oh no, trust me. The loving dad to a little girl thing is...very sexy.”

Oliver huffed out a laugh, giving his bike another glance. It was in better shape than it had been a couple of days ago. After taking the time to fix it up, it was ready to ride again.

Selling it was a better plan than hoarding it in the garage, after all.

“What about an exhausted mom who has sore boobs because her daughter has an incredibly demanding appetite?” Felicity cocked her head to the side, “Or a woman who had to change her clothes because that same daughter just hurled all over her? Super sexy, right?”

Laughing, Oliver shook his head. “You’re always sexy. Trust me.”

“Well,” Felicity moved down the steps into the garage, setting the baby monitor on the shelf near the door. “You didn’t see the mess your child made of my favorite sweater. She chugged that bottle like a college frat boy and then threw up like one, too.”

“She still hasn’t learned that lesson?” Oliver stood up, finally getting a good look at his wife as she came closer. She was barefoot, her legs exposed, because she wasn’t wearing anything but a t-shirt. His t-shirt.

“Like father, like daughter...” Felicity mumbled back, smiling as she stopped in front of him.

He gulped, leaning against the seat of the bike as his eyes raked down her body. His wife gently nudged his legs apart, stepping between them. Then she leaned in, pressing her lips against his ear. “You know,” she whispered, her arms winding around his neck, “we had some good times on this motorcycle. Remember Coast City?”

Oliver’s eyes closed on instinct, the feel of her body and the sound of her voice doing a number on him already. “Of course I remember,” he groaned, nuzzling her cheek.

It was a few months after they came back to Starling. They’d been missing Ivy Town and the summer they spent together, so they’d decided to take a weekend trip to Coast City. On the bike. “That night I took you out to dinner…” Oliver grinned, his voice low, his chest pressed to hers.

“You parked in the alley behind the restaurant.”

“And for some reason, you wanted me to teach you how to drive this thing.”

Oliver couldn’t see her face, but he felt her shiver.

He remembered, very vividly, how he’d put Felicity in front of him on the motorcycle, her hands on the gears, his on top of hers as he sat behind her. “I thought I did a pretty good job,” Felicity chuckled.

She’d only driven it from the mouth of the alley to the end of it once before she stopped the bike and started grinding her ass against him. Which led them to a very heated make out session until Felicity finally insisted that he take her back to the hotel immediately, and Oliver did his best to obey all the speed limits to get there while ignoring a massive boner.

“I guess our days of being spontaneous are kind of over,” Oliver sighed regretfully. As much as he loved being a father, there was a part of him that missed that time in their lives. The freedom of it. The adventure of every day with her. An open road in front of them that could take them anywhere they wanted to be.

And god, did they explore together.

In many different senses of the word.

Felicity shrugged, pushing his leg aside so she could climb onto the motorcycle. “Says who?”

“Uh...the baby who wakes us up two or three times a night?”

She rolled her eyes, “Mia’s sleeping. Let’s say goodbye to this old thing...the best way we know how.”

With a smirk, Oliver climbed onto the motorcycle behind her.

It wasn’t something that he’d ever admit to anyone, especially not the young gentleman who they sold the bike to…but Felicity knew her way around the machine, despite the fact that she’d never driven it outside of that alley in Coast City. She knew where everything was because they’d done... other things on this bike.

Of course, the new owner didn’t need to know that. And he definitely didn’t need to know the details of those things they did.

There had been nights. Dangerous missions and life-threatening encounters. Close calls and moments where one of them thought they might lose the other. Nights when Felicity had been insatiable and Oliver had needed her just as badly, the spark between them full of desperation and relief. Impossible to deny. Nights where they’d needed each other but had nowhere to go, so they got creative.

Having sex on his motorcycle wasn’t really something that they could just do once and then not want to do again.

He’d be lying if he said it was a one time thing.

Wrapping his arms around Felicity, reminded of those moments and how it felt back then, Oliver pressed himself against her back and buried his face in the crook of her neck. His hands slid slowly over her stomach, skimming down her thighs as he started to kiss her ear. Then he moved one hand to her hip, pulling her back against him. He ground his hips forward at the same time, and Felicity groaned when she felt his hardening length rubbing against her ass.

Silently, he slipped his other hand up her side, barely letting himself touch her breast before he flattened his palm on her chest, his fingers curling lightly around her throat. Just the right pressure to make her shiver. “Oliver,” she mewled.

He dragged his lips to her shoulder, pushing the fabric of his shirt out of the way. He only let go of her when she began to roll  her body on her own. Keeping his grip on her neck, Oliver dipped his other hand underneath the shirt, kneading one of her breasts.

Felicity plastered herself to him like she couldn’t get close enough, a low cry escaping her mouth. She dropped her head against his shoulder, and he took the opportunity to kiss her. His tongue demanded entrance, which she easily welcomed.

Oliver could feel her pulse thrumming under his fingertips, her skin getting warmer under his palm.

Her breath grew shallow as his mouth ravished hers.

God. Damn.

It didn’t surprise him anymore how quickly and how thoroughly his wife could turn him on. But it still amazed him. She was letting go, grinding her ass against his cock, and he was practically seeing stars.

Not wasting any time, Oliver leaned over, fumbling to find the keys while Felicity was too distracted to notice. When he turned the keys and started the engine, she gasped at the unexpected sound.

The bike purred to life, vibrating beneath them. Felicity’s hips jerked in response, finding friction.

Oliver kissed her harder. “Turn around,” he growled into her mouth. “Felicity, come here.”

She scrambled to spin around on the seat, nearly falling, but his firm hands guided her movements until she was facing him. Then Felicity hummed as she wrapped her legs around him, the noise mixing with the steady buzz from the motorcycle.

Her hands were on his jeans a moment later, nails digging into his thighs and then his hips. Then she reached for the button of his pants, snapping them open quickly. Felicity moaned as she slipped her hand inside, rubbing him over his boxers, feeling the length of him as he hardened beneath her palm.

Oliver lifted his hips; one arm branded around Felicity’s body as he did his best to pull his pants down. He could barely get them over his ass while he was straddling the bike, but it was enough that Felicity could free his cock.

His jeans were painfully tight around his legs, but as he settled back down on the bike, Felicity started grinding her hips down on him. He groaned in approval as her wet underwear rubbed up and down on his erection.

Felicity rocked her hips against him, her breath catching every time the head of his cock would slip between her folds. And Oliver tried to control his own breathing, his face buried in her throat; her familiar, delicious scent filling his nose.

He was vaguely aware that the garage door was wide open, which left him with the sense of being exposed and vulnerable, despite the fact that no one came to the cabin aside from John, Donna, and Thea.

None of which were expected for a visit tonight.

So the dirt road and sunset ahead was private. Safe, of course. Yet it still provided a thrill behind their actions; the feeling that they were somewhat in public.

“Is the monitor on?” Oliver couldn’t help but ask. His last shred of control.

Felicity gave him a quick, short nod as she pointed to the baby monitor on the shelf.

With the lungs Mia had, they both knew they’d hear it if she did happen to wake up…

“Fuck, Felicity,” he huffed out a breath, giving in to the incredible feeling of doing this with her. Again.

For the last time.

Fuck.

Oliver shoved his hand between them, yanking her underwear to the side and dipping his fingers between her soaked folds.

She was so damn wet.

He bit his tongue to keep from cursing again.

It made it easier that he knew exactly how to get Felicity going. How to really turn her on. Quickly. Because he was certain that as much as he wanted to take his time, he wasn’t going to last very long. He never did when a situation involved his motorcycle and his hot wife. Although this time, at least, there were no life-threatening missions to urge them on.

There was just her.

And god was he desperate for her.

Pushing his fingers inside, Oliver let Felicity set the pace; keeping his fingers straight, curving them to hit the spot deep inside that made her cry out for him.

Each time she thrusted down, her walls would squeeze his fingers tight and his hand would press against her clit.

Oliver ignored his aching cock, begging to be touched, in favor of watching Felicity.

He loved the way she moaned his name.

Loved the way she rode him.

Loved her.

It didn’t take long before her breath on his cheek became shallow. Her fingers pulled on his hair and her legs tightened around his waist, the vibrations of the bike coursing through him and straight to her.

And with one final roll of her hips, Felicity stiffened. She choked on her next breath. Her grip on his hair was hard, making him grit his teeth.

“Oh god,” she whimpered in his ear. “Right there, right there. Yes!”

Oliver straightened his fingers, moving them in and out as fast as he could while Felicity came.

Her legs tightened, shaking around him. Her head fell back, her breath catching.

He finally eased up, coaxing her down from her orgasm as he slowed his movements down, then carefully pulled his fingers out. He brought them to his mouth, and Felicity leaned back to watch him lick them clean.

With a smirk, Oliver tilted his head, his mouth meeting hers.

Felicity’s lips were slow to kiss him back, a sweet sigh falling from them. Oliver sucked on her bottom lip, his hands gliding down her back until he reached her ass. And he kissed her harder, squeezing the flesh, tugging her closer.

Her hips were already starting to move again, seeking friction.

Oliver smiled, giving her ass a light smack.

That’s my girl.

Felicity gasped, her mouth breaking from his while her body instinctively surged closer.

But when he went to kiss her again, she turned her head, letting his lips land on her cheek. With a pout, Oliver trailed kisses along her jaw, stopping at her chin. “What’s wrong?” He mumbled against her skin.

She didn’t answer right away, so he moved lower, licking and sucking a path across her throat. Felicity shivered, arching her back for the briefest moment, but pulled away as soon as he started to press his face between her breasts.

“Felicity?” Oliver frowned, holding her tighter.

Looking up at her, he saw the smile on her face; her lips swollen and red from his beard, her skin flushed, her eyes wide with pleasure. She shook her head once, moving to get off of him and the bike, and this time he let her. Felicity climbed down, using his hand for balance, then she nudged him to get up, too.

Once she had him on his feet, Felicity hooked her fingers through his belt loops and dropped to her knees, taking his pants along with her.

She took his cock in one of her hands, grasping him tightly. She smiled at him with those swollen lips. Stared up at him with those wide eyes. And Oliver instantly groaned, his hips snapping to meet her hand. His hands reached for her head, wanting nothing more than to dive his fingers into her hair and hold on while she did whatever she wanted with him.

But Felicity had other ideas. Her hand flattened against his stomach, “Sit,” she demanded, pushing him back until he fell onto the motorcycle.

‘Oh, fuck,” he huffed as he landed on the seat, the vibrations hitting his backside. But before he could get his bearings back, Felicity’s mouth was on him.

She nipped at his chest, scraped her teeth over one of his nipples, licked her way down to his stomach. And by the time she kissed the tip of his cock, he was already feeling lightheaded. Glancing down at her, he ran his fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face so he could see her better. Felicity met his eyes as she swirled her tongue around the head. Oliver sucked in a breath at the sensation, struggling to keep still.

God, he was sensitive.

Felicity grabbed his waist, holding herself steady with her nails digging in. Slowly, she took him between her lips. Inch by inch, he disappeared into her warm, wet, perfect mouth.

Until she had all of him.

Oliver instantly cried out as she swiped her tongue along the underside of his cock, jerking inside her mouth.

He could feel her throat constricting around him. Her teeth gently scraping his length. Her eyes watching him, blinking back some slight moisture as she pulled back and took a deep breath. Then she did it again, taking every inch of him. And again. Always stopping to swallow when her lips reached his balls, making his breath catch as she tightened her throat around him. Felicity kept her movements slow, which she knew drove him crazy in all of the best ways.

When she changed pace, focusing on his head while her hand stroked up and down his shaft, Oliver squeezed his eyes shut, pleasure washing over him. The intensity of the bike rumbling beneath him and the things she was doing with her mouth...it was almost too much. He didn’t realize he was rocking his hips towards her until he heard Felicity moan.

Slowly, he opened his eyes again to look down at her. She hummed, giving him a nod of approval. “Oh my god, Felicity,” he grit through his teeth, snapping his hips again. Every time he pushed into her mouth, she’d swirl her tongue around him. And every time he pulled out of her mouth, he’d lean back against the bike and feel the vibrations of the motorcycle, coursing straight to his balls, making his pleasure skyrocket.

He could feel his own orgasm coming as fast and as hard as Felicity’s had, and it was beyond tempting to let his body follow it. But Oliver leaned back, holding her head steady as he pulled out of her mouth with a loud pop.

Felicity furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. Her lips, that were even more swollen now, pouted up at him.

He sighed, both in regret and anticipation. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that being buried inside Felicity’s mouth when he came would be incredible. But he really wanted to be buried somewhere else. Oliver stood up again, helping Felicity to her feet. Then he gave her an ardent, slow kiss.

Felicity moaned into his mouth, and he kissed her harder as he tasted himself on her tongue.

Their eyes met again, each of them smiling. Oliver gently tapped his index finger to her nose, making her giggle.

God, she knew what that sound did to him.

It was a laugh that quickly faded when he grabbed her waist and spun her around. Taking a moment to admire the view in front of him, he pressed his palm against her lower back and guided her to bend over.

Felicity did so willingly, her breaths ragged.

Without a word, Oliver clutched onto her hips, gently kicking her feet apart, spreading her legs. He lined himself up at her entrance, and Felicity gripped onto the seat of the bike.

As he started to push into her, Felicity tossed her hips back, making him moan as he filled her. She glanced over her shoulder at him, smirking, and Oliver let out a breathless chuckle in return. His hands skimmed up her back, his fingers dragging, until he could grip her shoulders. Her smile fell when he pulled out, and she moaned his name when he thrusted back in.

Oliver kept his pace slow, a careful force behind his thrusts, since he knew that the motorcycle couldn’t take too much pressure. But it was more than enough.

As he felt his orgasm begin to build again, he shifted his weight over Felicity, pushing his hand between her body and the bike. And it only took a moment to find the right angle; his fingers working quick circles on her clit as the bike pulsed under them.

Felicity came with a shout, her hands flying to his arm, anchoring herself.

And Oliver followed right behind, spilling inside of her while his body folded over hers.

The motorcycle muffled their cries, the throbbing machine making everything feel more intense.

As he came back to his senses, Oliver lifted his hand from Felicity’s shoulder, keeping the other pressed against her clit, and reached over to turn the engine off. Listening to each of their heavy breaths, Oliver kissed Felicity’s shoulder, every patch of skin that he could reach without having to move.

“Having any second thoughts about selling this thing?” He mumbled against her back.

Felicity laughed, nudging him until he moved off of her. “Was this your way of trying to get me to keep it?”

He slipped out of her with a groan. “Honestly, no. But if you want me to do some more convincing, I’m all for it.”

“I’ll always love the bike...” Felicity shook her head, “But no. It’s always been more about you than the bike.”

He smiled at that, agreeing with the sentiment completely. Everything that he’d just felt had been entirely Felicity’s doing.

“That’s true,” he sighed, noticing that her legs were shaking when she tried to stand, and he quickly moved to pick her up. “I already know how easily you can get me wound up. Basically anytime you want.

“And anywhere,” Felicity grinned as he carried her towards the house, grabbing the baby monitor from the shelf as they passed.

Oliver turned the light off while Felicity pushed the button to close the garage door, each of them giving the motorcycle one last loving, appreciative look. “It may be ‘goodbye’ to the bike,” he whispered in her ear. “But I’m sure that we have a lifetime of thrills ahead of us still.”

Felicity raised an eyebrow, “I’m willing to bet you’re right.”

[starkeristheendgame]

peter and tony are on a motorcycle together. The constant movement and touching is getting them kind of excited.

I really hope you like this and that I did it justice! For those curious, this is the bike that Tony rides. I will forever spit curses at the Gods for making me the size of a Pomeranian. This is basically Early!College!Peter and Adult!Tony, and can be seen as a Biker/Gang AU if you wanna! 

TW: Public sex | Sex toy use | D/s dynamics | Consensual power dynamics | Potentially degrading monikers

Nobody had really believed Peter when he’d quietly admitted to having a boyfriend. It wasn’t that he was ugly, no. Peter was just basically married to his studying, and had seemed utterly and steadfast disinterested in any other offer of company. Though, if he did have a boyfriend, that would explain why. 

And nobody really believed him when they caught the face on his lockscreen. The devastatingly handsome thirty-something model of a man that eyed them with a tilted head and a killer smirk. This was the guy you saw in California, dating movie stars and fucking models, not living in Manhattan and dating a barely-legal college student. 

So when Leah Denvers overhears Peter talking about how his boyfriend will be picking him up from college, near enough the entire school gathers outside, hovering on the steps and all doing their best to fake disinterest, like they aren’t eyeing the boy stood on the edge of the curb like hawks. 

The noise comes first. Like thunder, but fiercer. Like with the rolling booms comes the trickling purr of a jungle cat, and the warning snarl of a dragon. Something angry and something powerful. Something that knew it had the rule of the streets. Nobody bothered to feign disinterest anymore. 

The beast that came charging around the corner was sleek and black, abstract edges and sharp points, a being that would blend into the darkness if not for its glowing red eyes. The rider that mounted it sat low, leaning over the tank, dressed head to foot in a sleek, black leather suit and helmet. 

Peter breathed a sigh of relief, acutely aware of every single set of eyes on his back. Tony being here meant they could make a rather speedy getaway. Ned had apologetically abandoned him on the curb, whisked away to a family meal with some long-lost Auntie. 

The rider steered the bike to an elegant halt and sat upright slowly, blacked out, glossy visor turning slowly to face him as the rider sat astride the bike, letting it growl between his thighs, hands resting calmly on the tank. Peter could see his own face in the visor, cheeks flushed, pupils blown. 

Peter stepped off the curb and up close, close enough he could smell the leather and the gasoline, could feel the heat of the bike and damned near her vibrations. He reached up a hand and delicately thumbed the safety lock of the helmet, lifting the visor up slowly until he could see dark, dark eyes, framed by long, thick lashes. 

People were talking. Whispering furiously. Peter knew what they were saying. Knew their doubts. He was just a semi-popular, not-so-great-with-fashion college student. How was a man like this with a boy like him? 

Tony Stark leaned away from him just slightly, blinking slowly like a cat as he reached behind him, for the spare jacket and helmet strapped safely to the seat Peter would soon occupy. He shrugged on the thick, armoured jacket himself, but obliged when Tony took the helmet from his hands, tugging up the bandanna from around his neck to cover his lower face, gentle and careful when he helped Peter to put it on and to tighten the straps. 

Tony let his head dip, pressing their helmeted foreheads together, like a tender kiss. He did it, each time before a ride. Good luck, he called it. And then he was bracing his legs and the bike, holding her stable as Peter put a hand to his shoulder and bounced up onto the back, tucking his legs into the correct position and sighed in contentment as he draped himself over Tony’s back, arms tight around his toned waist. 

Nearly the entire school was still staring when the engine gave a great roar between his thighs and leapt forwards. He would never get used to the thrill, would never get used to the leap in his chest and the tingle of adrenaline through his veins. But the worst was the vibrations, unrelenting against his ass, and being pressed so close against his lover, entrusting him with his very life. 

Peter wobbled off the bike hard between his legs more often than not. 

Tony did, too. 

They came to a halt at a stop light, Tony leaning upright to keep steady as they waited, and Peter relaxed against him, squeezing him lovingly. Tony reacted by reaching back, a large, gloved hand squeezing his thigh before it went to the throttle and twisted, just enough to hitch the revs, enough to have Peter squirming on the pillion seat, biting his lip. 

On the freeway, Tony set her free, the engine a thrumming monster beneath them. The angle that Peter sat upon her meant that the steady purr licked at the insides of his thighs, his asscheeks, against his tender cock. He knew for a fact where Tony’s cock was squeezed against the tank that he was hard. It was in each careful, uncomfortable hitch of his hips. 

Very slowly, Peter let his hands slide down Tony’s stomach, inch by inch until he was thumbing at the stiff leather over his flanks, stifling his hot cock. Tony pulled one hand from the bars and lay it over his hand, pressing Peter’s palm down firmly against the hard rise of his length, before he returned it to the steering. 

Halfway to Tony’s penthouse, Peter was hard enough that it ached, uncomfortable in his jeans, hips nudging against the base of Tony’s spine on each opportunity. His boyfriend reacted in kind, squeezing his thighs and revving the engine when there was no need, just to tease Peter with the powerful vibrations. 

Where he ought to have turned left, Tony turned right, and Peter watched the city blur into mostly abandoned lanes and streets. In a nook between a tall, abandoned apartment complex and a parking zone, Tony nudged the bike to the side and to a halt, reaching back to tap Peter’s thigh twice. 

Dismount. 

No sooner than Peter had stepped out of kicking range, Tony was kicking the stand down and swinging a leg over, hands reaching for his helmet. His hair was tousled and messy when he pulled it off, tugging down the bandanna to around his neck, tearing at his gloves with a dark, hungry gaze. Peter couldn’t bite back his grin, legs still tingling from the ride as he tore at his own helmet and jacket. 

For all their impatience with taking the gear off, they were still careful when they set it down, out of the way and with care before large hands settled on Peter’s hips, spinning him. A hand between his shoulders and he went down, folding over the bike with a half-giggle of delight, Tony’s thick thigh forcing his legs apart, making him present. 

“Such a desperate little slut, hm? Couldn’t even wait to get home. You just had to beg to be filled up” Tony breathed, hot and husky against his ear, folding over him like a stallion mounting his mare, hard and firm and unforgiving against him from shoulders to thighs. Peter could do nothing but mewl, pawing at the bike helplessly and arching against his lover. 

“Hhngh, please. Tony, fuck. Please. You’re so - None of them believed me. You’re that fucking hot they all thought I was lying” Peter rasped, eyes rolling when Tony nuzzled at his neck, coaxed him to bare it so he could sink his teeth into the soft, vulnerable flesh. 

“Mm, and do you like that they believe you now, pet? Do you like that they know you bounce on my cock like my good little boy?” It was punctuated with a harsh jolt of his hips, and Peter hissed. 

“Yes”. 

“Do you feel pride, knowing they want me, but they know they can’t have me? That they can’t, because you are Daddy’s little whore?”. 

Peter nearly sobbed, rocking his hips against the bike for friction, for anything as Tony reached for his ass, squeezing a fat cheek harshly before he pushed his hand under the loose band of his jeans, firm fingers pressing down on the base of the plug that was nestled deep in his ass, flared wide within to stretch his slick little insides. 

“Daddy likes it, too” Tony purred in his ear, fucking the plug into him with short little presses, hand reinforced by the harsh thrusts of his hips. Tony licked at his neck, his jaw, bit the shell of his ear with a low rumble and drove a hand into his hair, twisting and gripping hold of the silky locks for purchase. 

“P-Please” Peter breathed shakily, spreading his legs wider, pressing his ass back against Tony’s hand and his cock, biting at his lip to try and stifle the sounds tearing from his throat. Abandoned didn’t necessarily mean nobody was lurking in the shadows. 

“Mm, since you were so good, and wore this all day” Tony pretended to muse, and Peter nearly cried when he felt Tony’s fingertip slide around the edge of the plug, against his sore and stretched rim, which bent around the gentle pressure and then sucked his fingertip in greedily, a brief burst of pain quickly smothered by the heat of pleasure. 

“O-Oh! Fuck. Fuck, please. Tony!” Peter whimpered, head dropping as he scrabbled for purchase against the bike, near drooling as his thighs began to shake. Tony pressed against the plug again and brushed a thumb over his raw hole, forcing a shaky breath from his younger boyfriend. 

“If you cum now, little slut, you’ll have to ride the rest of the way home wet” Tony warned. Peter knew how uncomfortable it would be, how raw and tacky it would feel when his cum began to dry, but he nodded wickedly none the less, rutting against the frame of the motorcycle and squirming his hips to encourage Tony’s finger deeper. 

From behind him, Tony gave a low hum, and used his own hips to shove his finger deeper, startling a yelp from Peter that morphed into a cry as Tony rubbed at his sweet spot, his tender hole stretched too wide too soon, but Peter loved every moment of it, squeezing his eyes shut and throwing his head back when the boiling heat in his stomach pooled and overflowed, legs buckling so he collapsed against the bike as he came on a cracked gasp of Tony’s name. 

“That’s it, sweetheart. Cum for me” Tony coaxed him, gentle and overcareful as he rubbed him through it, and eased his finger out. He crowded Peter tighter, squeezing him against the bike as one hand came up to grip his jaw, thumb forcing his mouth open like a reluctant horse for the bit, the other pushing his slick finger into Peter’s mouth, so he could taste himself, stroking the back of his tongue until the boy hiccuped on a gag. 

“If you’re not hard again by the time we get back, I’m going to tie you naked to the bike on the driveway, and leave you there” Tony whispered sweetly. 

[wordynerdygurl]

Skin Deep ~ Part 2

Author’s Note:  Hi everyone!  Since it’s a long weekend here in the states, I was able to get Part 2 of my series up and out to you early!  If you haven’t read Skin Deep ~ Part 1, you should, as this picks up exactly where we left off! Here’s the link: Skin Deep ~ Part 1 Thank you to everyone who’s embraced this new story!  And, a special thanks to @sammy-jo1977​ for being a partner in crime!

I’d also like to give a shout out to @vodka-and-some-sass​, love ya lady!

Pairing:  Steve x Female Reader, Loki X Female Reader, Natasha and Nick Fury make appearances Summary:  Loki left Earth over two years ago, promising to come back.  Your best friend Natasha encourages you to look for a new love in the arms of Steve Rogers.  But is everything as it seems? Warnings:  This chapter has SMUT, fingering, oral sex, angst

“I thought we could go for a ride?  Are you up for that doll?”  

Stepping up to his motorcycle parked casually on the curb, “Um… I have never ridden one of these before.”    Steve clasped your hand in his, brushing his lips across your knuckles, “I promise to keep you safe.” Be bold, you thought.  Take a new step.  This was the start of something, you could feel it, and this moment seemed like a test you wanted to pass.

“Oh, hell.  Ok.”  Smiling at your bravery, Steve adjusted the second helmet he carried, making sure you and your brain were securely fastened.

Snuggled behind him, Steve’s deep voice rumbled through his chest, “Here.”  Taking your arms around his waist, pressing into him tighter than was probably needed, but your spike of fear made it feel necessary.  His laugh spread over you but Steve offered no objections to your concerned clinging.  Truthfully, he loved the feeling. “Ready?”  Nodding, mouth dry, you squeezed your eyes shut, waiting to feel the rough take off of his bike.  “Hey… use your words, Ok?  Are you ready?” Something about his commanding tone made you release a ragged breath, “Yes… yes.  I’m ready.” Below you, the motor roared to life, vibrations rattling your teeth.  Steve put one hand on the throttle as the other reached around to pat your leg, “Hold onto me, doll.  I’ll go easy, ok?” “Yes!”  Almost shouting over the engine, and your helmet, you wanted to make sure he heard you. And then you were moving.  As you leaned into the leather covered back before you, a relaxing energy overtook you.  What was so scary about this?  Steve had you, steady and secure, and as you left the start and stop lights of the city behind, he felt you melt into the bike more and more. Along a winding strip of back road, silent and scenic, you unlocked your grip to point out a pair of grazing horses.  Bobbing his head, Steve was relieved that you were enjoying the ride, comfortable enough to let go just a little.  It gave rise to a budding bubble of hope from the bottom of his heart. Mesmerizing was the best way to describe this journey, you decided somewhere between the front door of the compound and the highway’s on-ramp.  Watching the landscape slide by as you felt the wind on your legs, Steve’s radiant warmth enveloping you, and the soothing hum of the motorbike at your feet took your breath away.  Registering Steve shifting gears, slowing down just a touch, a small field came into view. Setting into a spectacular array of oranges and pinks, the sun was sinking slowly, casting the meadow in shifting shafts of light.  Pulling onto the soft shoulder of the road, Steve rolled the bike to a stop at a white fence, kickstand down and engine off before dismounting.  “Come on, let's stretch our legs a bit… whatta ya say?” “Sure!”  You started shifting forward, ready to swing a leg over the seat, when Steve settled his firm hands on your hips.  Then you were in his arms, casually lifted off your swinging feet, spinning like a princess in some animated fairy tale. “Steve!  Put me down!”  There’s no real heat in your words.  It’s just important that he knows you’re not some simpering, simple minded maiden in need of rescue.  However, it does fill you with delight, the way you’re weightless in Steve’s grip.  “Of course, doll.”  But he takes a beat to squeeze you to him, just a second to feel your soft body cradled to his, before letting your legs drop.  What you didn’t count on was being goofy footed after the long ride.  Almost the second Steve let you go, your toe caught on a stone, and with your muscles turned to jelly, you couldn’t stop the downward tug of gravity.  “Whoa!  Easy!”, one of those sinewy forearms caught you, spinning you into Steve’s embrace with all the grace of a newborn fawn.  You’re aware of how your breasts are pushing against his brawny chest, elbows bent so that your hands are digging into his strapping shoulders, a shocked gasp fanning into Captain America’s ruggedly handsome face.  His hand is exactly where it should be, curled chastly around your middle but the scorching heat of him makes it feel sensual.  Snugged into his hips, the pose was romantic, and you lifted your chin, ready to accept another soul stealing kiss from Steve. If only you weren’t still wearing your helmet. Fogging the face plate, you saw Steve smile widely, unhooking the strap and gently removing your plastic and foam head piece.  You’d let him, not moving an inch, still stuck on Steve’s sturdy figure.  Never one to cling, you found that you didn’t want to let go of the mighty man in front of you. Keeping one arm around you, Steve steered you away from the street, stopping to open up the saddlebag on his bike.  Swinging a bundle from his free hand, Steve led you further into the field before you, “Come on, kiddo.” Hidden in the almost unending sea of knee high grass is a footpath and Steve holds your hand loosely as you follow behind.  Before long, trees line the path, fanning out in both directions.  “An apple orchard!  How did you know about this place, Steve?” Bowing his head, a touch shy, “Oh… Um… it’s mine.” “Shut up!” “Seriously.”  Releasing your fingers, Steve walks to the nearest tree and plucks off a firm, round, red apple.  You watch him wipe it along his shirt before the satisfying crunch of his hearty bite meets your ears.  Holding it out to you, a modern day Adam, tempting Eve, “Wanna try, doll?” Smirking, you lower your head, not your eyes to the fruit in Steve’s palm.  Eating out of his hand, you take a small nibble of the delicious globe, tasting sunshine and sweetness in the hay scented dusk.  Groaning lowly, Steve resists the urge to take you right there, in the dust and dirt of his north field. “Doll…”  There’s a warning edge there, but you happily ignore it, instead taking another small bite and moaning a little yourself. It’s fun pushing Steve’s buttons.  Flirting had always been easy for you but the last time you’d used that particular muscle was almost twenty four months ago.  You were pleased, realizing that it was like riding a bicycle. Licking his palm now, the juice from his apple pooling, you heard Steve’s breath catch.  He didn’t want you to stop and he certainly didn’t want to spook you.  So the super soldier stood stock still, waiting to see what you’d do next, hopeful and hungry. His wrists were so strong.  Kissing over the braided tendons there you felt his serum enhanced pulse rush as your mouth moved over his arm.  “You have very strong hands.” “Uh huh.”  Having lost the ability to think straight the second your tongue traced over his open hand, Steve can only grunt out sounds, careful not to push you too hard. “And you grow beautiful apples.  Is this your retirement plan, then?  Farm life?”   You’re teasing him.  He knows it, but the sound of your voice is sultry and stirring, it takes him a minute to answer.  Swallowing hard, “Pies.  I want to sell pies.” With a flirty smirk you bite into your bottom lip, “So, Captain America’s All American Apple Pie Emporium, is that it?  If you figure how to stick a flag into the crust it’ll be the most patriotic thing since… well, since you came along.” “I know you’re laughing at me… but-” pushing you against the trunk of an obliging tree, “-you won’t be laughing for long.” Steves says it, smiling, but something inside of you sizzles at his words.  Breathless, you taunt, “Why, Captain America?  A bit… aggressive, wouldn’t you say?” Towering over you, Steve pressed his forehead to yours, “No doll, I’m just finally going after what I want.” Without waiting for your reply his pink pout parts your lips, tongue licking into the sugar coated cavern of your mouth, taking his fill of your tart tongue.  Shutting your eyes, you let your body rule your actions, relishing Steve’s hungry touch.  Eager to return the favor. There’s just so much of him that needs attention.  A wide thigh, parting your own, lifts you onto your toes.  One of your arms sneaks around his narrow waist, toying with his wide leather belt, earning a purr of pleasure from the super soldier. Sliding to your throat, Steve’s kisses turn needy, rushed.  Greedy, gasping, grabbing, he was everywhere.  Singing sighs escaped you as Steve squeezed the swell of your hip, his mighty paw sliding under the hem of your skirt, roughly gripping your thigh. “God, I missed kissing.”  Panting against the curve of his ear, you pulled Steve closer, his nose nuzzled into your neck. “Doll, I want to do more than kiss you.” flexing his pelvis into your own, the heavy heat of his yearning obvious through all the layers between you.  Trailing his fingers under your denim jacket, over your cotton tee, Steve stroked across your breast as his lips crashed into yours once more. Rolling his hips, Steve showed you exactly what was on his mind.  Pinned by his well muscled body, all you could do was act naturally, whimpering with want at the friction Steve’s smouldering form gave off.  Wrapping your leg high on his was your idea and boy, did it feel incredible. Humping into his thrusts, mind reeling, you rode out the reignited flames of forgotten passion.  Steve’s mouth was more insistent, more ferocious, as it claimed yours over and over.  Sliding from your thigh to the firm roundness of your bottom, shifting his grip, Steve’s hand lifted you higher. “Can I touch you, doll?  Will you let me?  I want to feel you so bad, baby.”  Broken, Steve’s voice was raw and rugged, ravenous for you. Flushing at his flagrant, frenzied urging, you threw your head back giving Steve a wild nod.  Latching onto your exposed collar bone, feeling the sharp sting of his straight teeth followed by the slick soothing of his tongue, Steve tagged you as his.  Mewling out his name, the feeling of his fingers against your damp panties made you shiver. Circling his neck, holding on tight, you preened at the press of Steve’s hand cupping your core so completely.  “Steve… please…” coming out of you in panted puffs, begging for something, anything, to crest the rising tide inside of you.  “That’s it doll.”  Slipping one finger into your clenching channel, “Beg me.  Ask me to touch you.  I need to hear you.  Hear that you want me, baby.” “Oh, yes… Steve… Don’t… don’t stop.  I want it.  I want it so bad!”  Slicking your slit, Steve added a second finger, his hips matching the rhythm of his probing digits.  “You are so sexy, doll.  Do you know that?” His fingers spread, working to widen your velvet walls, stretching you.  The heel of his hand ground against your swollen nub, ratcheting up your racing heartbeat, rolling you closer to release.  Curling his fingers, scraping against the spongy, sensitive spot of your satin tunnel, Steve felt you shake around him.  You were so close now, the pulsing power of your climax closing in on you, “Hmmm... Steve… Steve…” Pouring out of you in a never ending stream of sighs, Steve smirked against your skin, “Are you going to cum for me, doll?  I want you to.  I want you to show me how beautiful you look when you let go.” And you did.  Instead of a tidal wave, your orgasm was peaceful, a rippling pool.  A pouring pitcher.  A cool stream on a hot day. Your first time since Loki took you by surprise. Hearing the singing crickets in the meadow, the distant roar of a car on the road, your own release added to the music of the night.  Like summer rain, you melted into the sensation of satisfaction, even if it didn't come from hours of teasing or endless tasting.  

No, tonight's pleasure was pillow soft, downy and dewy. Complete and honest.  No frills, third base in the backseat sexual fulfillment.  And you liked it!  How could you not love the primal relief of release from so gifted a guy?  Steve was classic, vanilla, consistent and constant.  He got the job done. The only problem?  He wasn’t Loki.  Head back, breathing deeply after your indulgence, you shut your eyes.  Vanilla was a great flavor.  Perfect for apple pie.  But when you've had Dark Chocolate Cookie Dough Swirl, how could basic vanilla compete?

Pushing those thoughts out of your mind, slowly taking in the orchard as night's shadows lengthened, you felt Steve setting you to rights.  He looked impossibly proud, as if your orgasm proved something beyond biology, but you didn't mind it.  At least now you knew enjoying someone other than Loki was possible.

Realizing that this moment would be the beginning of your new relationship with Steve made your head spin.  It was startling but you had promised Natasha you would try.  Try to get out of your head, try to put the past where it belonged, try not to think about the torn way your heart pulled.

Live in this moment.  Breath in this moment.  Enjoy this moment. Kissing you kindly, adoringly, Steve slowly lowered you to standing.  Scarlet cheeked with hair in your face, he hadn’t thought you could look more perfect, yet here you were staring up at him with your huge shining eyes.  Brushing a stray lock away, grinning, “Hey doll…” “Hey yourself, Cap.” “I hope…”  What did he hope?  That you were happy?  Satisfied?  As madly in love with him and he was with you? Stopping him, pressing yourself into his chest, you kissed him lightly.  “I know.”  Cupping his smooth cheeks, rubbing your nose to his, “Why don’t you show me around?” “Yea?” Slipping your hand into his, comfortable and cozy with him for the first time, “Yes.” ---- Natasha didn't see you again until Monday morning and even that was a drive by visit.  Steve scooped you up for lunch, texted you all day and offered to take you to dinner.  She should have been upset about being ditched, but honestly, this was exactly what Nat wanted for you both. Over time dance class was forgotten as donuts were no longer on your radar.  Instead you started baking pies, fresh apple pies, bringing them into the office for everyone to share.  It seemed like your new found happiness was manifesting itself in flour and sugar.  

Weekends at the orchard, playing house with Steve, then staying in the compound during the week.  When the group got together, it was a blast, because you seemed at ease again.  More like your old self.  

Natasha was especially pleased to see the color creep back into your life, slowly and surely.Granted, your hair wasn't pink yet, but your cheeks were.  Between that and the dopey smile Steve sported all day, she felt vindicated.  Yet, in the back of her mind was the threat of Loki's imminent return.

“Cat got your tongue, agent?”  Nick Fury wasn’t great at being ignored for a daydream. “No, sir.” “Am I boring you?” Answering him with a curt nod, “No.” “Then what do you suggest?”  Throwing the file labeled Loki onto the table, the trickster God's profile on the transparent screen at his back, Fury glowered at the agents in front of him. “I suggest that we monitor the situation.  Engage Thor, if needed, and finish the holding cell, just in case Loki doesn't return to Earth as friendly as when he left.” Stiffly, Steve swiveled in his seat, his arms crossed over his chest.  "I agree with Agent Romanoff.  Plan for the problem we want to avoid."

"And how is our backup plan, Captain?"

Shifting uncomfortably, Steve met Fury's eye with his even stare.  "Fine."

"Any word from Loki?"

"Not that I've heard."  Looking at the illuminated image of your previous partner made Steve anxious but his voice betrayed nothing.

"And you would hear, correct?", Nick's hands found his hips, mild irritation radiating off of him.

Glaring openly at the director now, Steve questioned, "What are you implying?"

"I just want to make sure we cover our bases.  She's one of those bases."

Smoothing over the tension, Natasha interceded quietly,  "Steve has been… on top of the situation for three months now.  And I would've been told if Loki made contact.  It's just how she is.  This wouldn't be a kept secret."

"Fine.  For now.  Natasha, you know what to do.  Play this one close, people.  We might be over preparing, but I won't have another 2012 on my hands."

"Yes sir."  

Steve rose quickly, turning to Nick Fury, "Sir."

Leaving the conference room that served as Nick's office, Natasha released a held breath, "How is it going, really?"

"Which part?  The part where I'm lying to the woman I love, or the part where I'm using her?"

"Steve."

"Natasha?"

"You heard Fury… it's probably overkill."

"That won't matter if she finds out."  

He wasn't wrong, Nat had to give Steve that,"Are you still planning on asking her?  This weekend?"

"I don't know anymore.  She-" Jamming his finger into the elevator call button, taking his frustration out on the plastic circle, "-she deserves better."

"This will all be over soon, Steve.  When Loki finds out she's yours, that he has no chance, he'll walk away."

"I wish I had your confidence."

Stopping short, furrowing her brow, "What makes you say that?"

Stepping into the lift, Steve faced Natasha full on, "Loki... he is no quitter.  I know I wouldn't leave her, not without a fight, not if I didn't have to."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

"Yea.  See you tomorrow night?"

Natasha patted Steve's shoulder as the car stopped on her floor, "Assuming this goes to plan… Of course, you will!  I can't miss my best friend's engagement, can I?"

---

When Loki had said goodbye to you, it was with the expectation of a speedy return, victorious negotiations and no bloodshed.  He was coming back to you, years later, battle tested, talked out, but triumphant.  Oh, how he had missed you.

Thoughts of you raced through his mind.  His base need to bury himself in your sunshine, your warmth, was Loki's sole focus now.  Too long he had denied the ache in his heart at being away from you.  You were, at this moment, the only thing Loki wanted.  Which is why the welcome home from Agent Romanoff was a let down, a bruise to his ego, a blocking of his desire.

Surely you knew he was home.  Hadn’t Loki communicated with Fury regularly?  Reported, as asked, on all the goings on off world to ensure that danger never knocked on Earth’s door.  Returned, eager to reunite, ready to reconnect with you and you alone, Loki was confused by your absence.  You had promised to wait, after all.

“Agent Romanoff.  It is truly lovely to see you, but I can’t help noticing that my pet isn't here yet.”  

Shoving her hands into the pockets of the black leather she wore, “She won't be coming.”

That brought Loki up short.  Not coming?  That couldn’t possibly be accurate.  “Excuse me?”

“She's not coming.  She's uh… she's moved on.”  Raising her chin, defiant, Natasha locked eyes with the demi-God.

Flashing Nat that spreading smirk, “Moved on?  Impossible.”

“Oh it’s possible.  More than possible.  You’re too late, Loki.  She picked someone else.  Got engaged and everything.”  

Anger, red and raw, flashed through him at the thought. Risking a step closer to the mere mortal in front of him, Loki roared, “To who?  Who dares claim what is mine?”

Sighing at the dramatics, “Calm down, Loki.  If you don't, this could go south, real fast.”  Pulling the small, glowing device from her pocket, Natasha pressed a button.  Behind Loki, from the floor, a set of electric charged rails emerged, sending beams of light to the ceiling.  A cage made of light and energy.  

Laughing mirthlessly, “Is this the plan then?  Keep me from my pet, push my proverbial buttons, and provoke me to anger.  Then with enough justification you can lock me up?  Lovely.  And I had so hoped that we were passed all this.”

Without looking, Loki snapped his fingers, cutting the current and effectively disabling SHIELD’s light show.  Bristling now, feral and fierce, advancing towards Natasha again, “Loki…”

“Agent Romanoff, I have one question for you.  Where is she?”

Standing her ground, unwavering, Natasha started, “I'm not-” 

Bellowing out his unchecked rage, “WHERE IS SHE?!” Flinching, that was the most she would give Loki’s outburst, “I’m not at liberty to tell you, Loki.”  

Natasha had already triggered the alert system.  Nick Fury and his team would be en route, ready to mitigate Loki’s threat, Steve would be briefed.  She didn’t have anything to worry about as long as she could keep Loki and his furious figure here, away from you. Reaching for her sidearm, Natasha felt the most alarming sensation, an ice cream headache that radiated through her whole body.  “It’s an effective restraint, courtesy of the Frost Giants and, I’m a fan, to be honest.” “Loki, this won’t work.  SHIELD already knows you’re here, they’re going to catch you.” “Probably.”  Leaning close to her ear, dropping his voice, Loki changed tactics, “Just tell me where to find her.  If I have to do it myself I will.  But it will take longer and be… messier.” “Don’t threaten me, Loki.  I’ve danced with you before, or have you forgotten?” “My previous time on Earth will look like a vacation if any harm has come to my pet.  This is my vow to you… to Fury.  To anyone who might keep me from what’s been promised.” Striding towards the door, Loki turned his back on Natasha, “She’s not yours, Loki.  You don’t own her!” Looking at her over his armoured shoulder, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” “She’s in love with Steve!  And it’s real, Loki.  She’s so happy… He gives her everything!  More than what you could give her.” Loki stopped then.  Watching his spine stiffen, Natasha saw him turn, his eyes narrowed into slits.  Tilting his dark head, a half smile on his lips, “Thank you, Agent.”

---

Spending hours setting up the homestead, just so, had been worth it.  Looking around the yard, you smiled, pleased with the finished results.  Lights twinkling brightly, the old picnic table covered in a simple cloth, bowls filled with flowers from your garden.  It was a farmland fairy tale and you were itching to show it off only a few hours from now.

You had taken Friday off.  Cleaning, shopping up a storm, prepping food for the crew took time and Pepper had been so good about giving you leave.  It was no secret that she and Tony were both rooting for you guys. Steve had opted to work, telling you that the gang would be arriving around six or so Saturday night, they'd be hungry, and ready to have a good time.  There was a lot to do, there always was, but you wanted this night to be a special one.  After all it was your first time hosting everyone at the orchard, kind of a big deal cementing you and Steve as a stable, functional couple.

Staying in the city until Saturday, you weren't expecting your boyfriend to show up much before your guests, and frankly, sometimes it was easier to get through your "to do" list without him hovering.  He had a tendency to crowd you, linger over your shoulder, follow you with his big blue eyes.  At times you felt like Steve was monitoring you, watching out for something, cautiously testing your bond.

Setting bottles of beer and rose’ into the ice filled buckets, you were startled when that reliable honeyed voice called out, "Honey?  I'm home."

"Steve?  You're early.  Like, really early.  Everything ok?"

Stepping onto the sun dappled stone walkway, blonde hair brilliant, Steve's smile was wolfish and wide.  He was almost hopping, making his way towards you, his gaze never leaving your own.  At close range now, Steve dragged you to him tightly, nibbling on your neck until you squirmed free, giggling.

"Steve!  What's gotten into you?"  Normally so formal, proper, guarded, this wasn't like the man you'd lived with for months now.

"Couldn't keep away.  Didn't want to, really.  Damn, but you do look good."

Hands framing your face pulled your mouth to his.  Swiping his tongue over your teeth, testing the taste of you, Steve's lips demanded more.  Bumping into the edge of your fancy set table, you couldn't outmaneuver the man in front of you, and he knew it.  Bending you back, Steve's arm supporting your weight, your fingers carded through those golden curls.  Hearing his breath hitch made your stomach flutter.  This kiss was getting to him too.

Whispering in your ear, husky and hot, "I missed you, pet.  So, so much."

Resting your forehead to his, head bowed, "I guess so!"

Steve pulled you to standing, taking your hand in his, marching toward the house.  "Where are we going?  I have so much to…"

"Leave it.  Just, come with me, pet.  Please?"

Once you crossed over the threshold to your kitchen he was on you again, fingers fiddling with your belt, ripping your work shirt free.  Scalding, Steve slid his rough hands over your rib cage, cupping your breasts through the basic cotton bra you'd thrown on to start your day.  "Oh, god!  Steve!!"

"You like that, don't you?"

"Yes!  God!"  Dropping your near shout to a humble hum, "Don't stop… please?"

"I don't plan to.  Come on."  Practically running, Steve had you tripping over your feet to keep up as he rounded the stairs for the second floor.  He couldn't keep his hands off of you.  Losing your top completely at the door, it fell to the floor in a heap, soon to be joined by your bra.  Feeling his skin on yours made you shiver.  For the first time since you'd been together, Steve felt wild, free.  And if you were honest, you had missed the open wanting that Loki inspired, which, until now, Steve had been unable to express.  

"Why?  Why are you so… different today?"  Your sentence was broken up by Steve's never ending licking and biting over your chest.  Tonguing your taut nipples, tasting your torso, Steve savored your tantalizing form.  Tangling his hair in your fist, holding him too close to hear his muffled answer, "What?"

"I realized what a treasure I had.  Needed to show you, pet."  And with that said, Steve striped you of your jeans.  Grinning lewdly, eyebrow quirked, "No panties?"

Reaching for his tight body once more, your lips licking along his throat, "Didn't need 'em!"

"Naughty!"  Steve, punctuating his joyful admonishment with a firm slap on your round bottom, nudged you onto the bed.  Rolling you onto your back, Steve crawled between your spread legs, resting his broad chest over your own.

His arms, so impossibly thick, caged you in as a long, leisurely kiss danced over your mouth.  Tugging his shirt off, tousling his blonde locks in the process, you were amazed at Steve’s transformation.  No longer timid, testing, Steve put your hands on his belt, “Go on then.” At his order, you found his mouth again, fingers fumbling with the silver buckle at his waist.  Pushing his pants down to his hips, almost enough to free him, “Help?”, you asked cutely. “Of course, pet.”  Kneeling up, you watched as Steve shucked his trousers, throwing them to the floor before growling, “Where were we?” Patting the bed beside you, “Right here, babe!” Crawling now, Steve slithered between your parted thighs, “Here is better, I think.” Giggling again, you smiled, “Oh, you think so?” Pressing scorching smooches to the skin of your calf, coasting across your knobby knee, then licking along your thick quad, Steve tortured his way to your core. Your clawing hands scratched into the thick, golden hair of his head, trying to direct him to your need.  “Look at how wet you are, pet.  Is all this for me?  All of this for your Captain?” “Yes… Yes, Steve!” You felt his thick fingers part your lower lips, exposing your secret skin to the air, shivering at the intimacy of the act.  “Hmm… I’ve missed you, you know?” “It’s only been a day, Steve… but oh… Oh!”  Silencing you with a swipe of his talented tongue, Steve teased your bundled nerves in long, slow strokes.  Licking into your clenching channel, tasting your uniqueness, Steve sighed contentedly, lapping up all you could give him. When licking was no longer enough, Steve sucked on your tiny tense, pearl making you shout, “Shit!  Steve!  Oh, God!  I’m… I’m…” “Yes, pet, cum for me!”  Lightning fast, your pleasure peaked, ripping through your body.  Thighs quaking, you pulled against Steve’s scalp, bucking your hips against his ravishing mouth.  Soundless, lips parted in a silent scream, Steve lapped up your creamy release. Breathless, reaching for his stiff steel, “Please… I need it, Steve.” Damp from your discharge, Steve’s smile was savage, “I’m going to give it to you pet.  Get on your knees now. “ Biting your bottom lip, you raced to comply, happy that Steve was trying something new.  You’d asked him to switch positions, change things up, but routine was a comfort to your new beau.  Something had shaken him loose and you were grateful when you felt him hard and hot behind you. Skating his palms up your spine, tugging at your hair, Steve turned your head, “I won’t be gentle, pet.” Breathing ragged, “Good.  I’ve tried to tell you, I won’t break, Steve.” “Don’t I know it.”  Guiding his thick cock closer to your quivering center, his tip brushed against your outer folds, gathering your slick.  When his wide head pushed inward, you sucked in a breath, “Oh god…” With a husky laugh, “Your so tight, pet.  So tight.  This might hurt… but in the best possible way.” “Please…”  Whining openly now, over eager to feel the rigid length of Steve, you arched your back, hoping for more.  Answering your plea, Steve growled lowly, gripping your hips.  Pulling you back slowly, ensuring that every ridge and valley of his rod was imprinted on your slick channel, he forced you to savor the stretching burn of his size. Reaching around you, one arm circled your chest, lifting you off your elbows.  The other, skating over your pelvis, seeking and finding your throbbing nub with a vicious pinch that made you cry out.  Your back was plastered to his chest, Steve sucking on the soft skin behind your ear, claiming you. “I can’t hold back, pet.  I am going to fill you up.  Make you mine.”, each promise was punctuated with a vicious thrust, deeper than the last. Curling your hands over the powerful thighs banging against your own, “Yes!  Please, Steve!  Please!”  

The change in Steve was pushing you further and faster towards unraveling.  Every spot that sent you soaring was filled, flicked or fondled.  Even his words were electric, sending shock waves through you, shoving you closer to satisfaction.

"I'm cumming, Steve!  Holy… shit!"  Shuddering in his arms, you felt his driving thrusts stutter, heard his shivery sigh of your name.  Steve exploded into you, squeezing you tight enough to bruise, rocking his hips until he was completely spent.

Behind you, the sound of clapping hands made you jump, your head swinging towards the bedroom door.  Applause were swell, but who'd be brave enough to sneak up here?  Stealthy enough for spying?  

"That good, doll?"  You'd never heard him like this before.  Steely and cold, Steve was leaning into the door jamb wearing an unreadable look.  Pushing off the frame, he stalked toward the bed, eyes full of blue fury.

But Steve was also wrapped around you like a second skin, nosing the nape of your neck, his softening length still inside of you, "What the…?" 

"Loki."

"Loki?"  Squeaking, you swung your head between the two Steves.

"Captain." the Steve behind you wavered slightly, an evil glint in his eye.

"Captain?"  Your voice was high pitched and panic filled.  Your breathing got shorter, your face hot, your skin prickly.

"Doll?"  Grabbing the fleshy part of your arm, trying to remove you from the Steve behind you, Second Steve gave you a fierce tug.  Feet on the floor, you shrugged your arm free and spun to face the Steve who was still naked and hard in your bed.

"My pet."  And before your eyes the broad body of Steve Rogers that had so recently brought you to paradise, shimmered green, revealing the long, lean figure of Loki Odinson.

"Loki…?  Is it…?  Are you… really here?", barely whispering, barely controlling your rising panic.

"Surprise."  Harsh and hurt, Loki glared in your direction.  Flinching at the sting of his tone, your eyes filled with tears, your lower lip trembling.

Sighing, Steve worked to redirect you, "Doll.  Come on, let's get you out of here."

Shaking your head, "Steve?  I… I thought…"  Struggling to connect the dots, you weren't sure what to do, where to turn.

"I know, doll.  I forgive you.  You thought it was me…"

Tsking, Loki chimed up, "Believe what you want, Captain.  No one knows my pet's body better than me."

Taking a moment to look over your naked form, Steve saw the deepening plum bruises on your hips, the scarlet stains on your neck, the wetness on your thighs.  Suddenly disgusted, Steve threw something at you, "Cover up, for Pete's sake."

Slipping your thin robe over your shoulders, mindlessly tying the belt, you started to shake.  Again, perplexed, "Loki?"

"Pet.  It's been a while."

Nodding, you felt your knees wobble before they buckled completely.  Your vision fuzzed over like a disconnected television and your ears were filled with buzzing.  "Loki?", once again whispering his name before everything went black.

~ Part 3 Coming Soon! ~

My Rag Tag Crew:  @sammy-jo1977​ @unadulteratedwizardlove​ @wolfsmom1​ @thenatallie​ @procrastinatinglikeabitch​ @mizfit2​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @shxdowofdarkness​ @ahintofkiwistrawberry​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @jessiejunebug​ @rorybutnotgilmore​ @crystalizedcaramel​ @iamverity​ @lokislittlecorner​ @thefallenbibliophilequote​ @jamielea81​ @lots-of-loki​ @vodka-and-some-sass​ @brokenthelovely​ @just-random-obsessions​ @scrumptious-finicky-illusion​ @capcapcapsicle​

[wayward-mikaelson]

Sixth Gear

Word Count: 4287

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Characters: Jensen, Reader, Marie (OG Character), Nathan (OG Character) Dylan (OG Character), Donna Ackles, Alan Ackles, Mackenzie Ackles, Joshua Ackles, Jared (Mentioned), and Misha (Mentioned).

About: Reader goes home for the holidays only to be introduced to Jensen, the star of Supernatural. The Reader and Jensen hit it off that first night where one thing leads to another until the readers Brother walks in on them about to rip each others clothes off. For the next few months the Reader and Jensen get to know each more. Then the Reader decides to go home for the Summer just to see Jensen and he shows her his motorcycle and how it all works where one thing leads to another.

Warnings: Language, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Unprotected Sex (be responsible, wrap it up), Drinking, Oral Female Receiving, Mention of Drugs

DISCLAIMER: This one shot does contain a toxic parent and everything that comes with a toxic parent. That means there will be manipulation, gas lighting, emotional/psychological abuse, etc. If you live or have lived with a toxic parent and or person please read at your own discretion. 

DISCLAIMER 2: Any of the shorts that are hot and steamy, I want to put out there that it's in no way disrespectful towards Danneel at all. I love her to death and respect the crap out the marriage between her and Jensen. So when reading those shorts, know that it all takes place in an alternate world where they aren't married at all.

A/N: If you have a small request, shoot me a message. Request close 7.11.2020 at 11.59pm US central time

A/N 2: Do you want to be tagged in future fanfics posts? Comment Below!

A/N 3: This took me 3 to 4 days to write so I really hope you enjoy this hot and steamy motorcycle ride.

Requested by: @magssteenkamp​ 

Tag List: @hobby27​ @elansaidaris​ @donnaintx​ @myinconnelly1​ @squirrelnotsam​ 

*18+ CONTENT. YOUNGER THAN 18 MOVE ALONG

**DO NOT COPY AND PASTE MY WORK ANYWHERE ELSE UNLESS YOU HAVE MY PERMISSION AND IF YOU GIVE CREDIT TO ME. I WORK TOO HARD ON THESE STORIES TO HAVE MY WORK STOLEN

***PLEASE READ WARNINGS AND DISCLAIMERS BEFORE READING.

I sit in the airport thinking and wondering how I am going to make it through the weekend with my parents. My Mom is toxic as hell while my Dad is just now waking up to her toxicity after nearly thirty years of marriage. He has told me many times over this last year that he was considering on leaving her but somehow she always found out and manipulated him to stay. "Maybe I can convince him to come home with me?" I whisper to myself. I have an extra room for him. I rub my face knowing it will be a long shot to get my father out of that house.

When my flight is called for Dallas, I stand up, picking up my bag and making my way to the gate. I hate holidays that require me to come home. Like Thanksgiving and Christmas. I make up excuses for all the other ones just to stay away from home. I was much more happier in Portland. As I arrive at the gate, I pull out my ticket and let the lady scan it. As I walk towards the plane, I think, I still have time to turn around and just say screw it and not get on. It will most certainly make my life so much easier.

I sit in my seat and send a quick text to my Dad letting him know that I was on my way. In return he say's he's excited and that my brother Dylan was coming too. I turn my off and sit back. My brother. The black sheep of the family is finally coming home for a holiday after five years. It'll be nice to hug him again and see how he's been holding up. I smile and close my eyes. This trip is going to be amazing and entertaining.

When my eyes open, I feel the plane preparing to land. I look out the window to my right and see the Dallas airport below. No time to turn back now, I think. Should have high tailed it when I had the chance. When the plane lands I wait until it's time to gather my bag and make my way back to baggage claim. As I do, I pull out my phone and text my Dad to see if he's here. I sooner I get out of this crowed airport, the sooner I can get home and lock myself away until dinner. He texts me back saying he and Mom are circling around and will pick me up when they see me.

"Great," I say stuffing my phone away. "Her highness is here to talk down to me and talk nothing but herself."

"I don't know your situation, but you can tell her highness to go screw herself," A voice next to me says. I turn to see a man about a few years older than me and highly gorgeous pulling up a few bags. He looks oddly familiar.

I laugh. "If only that will work," I see him give a small smile before I walk off.

I walk outside of the terminal waiting to see my Dad's small grey SUV. When I do, I get this sick feeling when I see my Mom. She is the soul reason why I stay away from home and avoid her. She belittles me and makes me feel so small. She judges the way I dress and do my makes. Even thinking about it makes me even more sick.

My Dads SUV pulls up next to me. He smiles at me and I return the smile. "Hey," I say as I buckle up.

"What? No hi for your mom?" My Moms tone said it all. "I see how it is. And is that what you wore on the plane?! That's just horrendous. I would never wear that!" Oh I wish this trip was already over. "At least your brother had the decency to show up in an actual outfit. You look like you're looking for drugs."

I smile sarcastically. "That's exactly what I'm doing Mom," My Dad glares at me from the rearview mirror but, I ignore it. "There's a guy I know off of 4th. He deals the best drugs! He's the whole reason I'm here."

"YN!" Dad says my name firmly and I stop. Guess I took it too far. "How was that flight?" He asks softly.

"I slept the whole time. I'm not big on flying." I say reaching into my bag to pull out the mini bottles I hid. I take one out and shot it back as fast I can before either of my parents see.

The rest of the drive home was in silence. Which, when riding with both my parents, isn't relaxing. When we pull into the driveway of my childhood home, I am out of the car before Dad puts it in park and bolt inside.

"YN," I hear Moms voice call after me. "You're not going to let your father carry your bags in all on his own."

"Marie!" I hear Dad say before I shut the door behind me. Then its all muffled voices.

I run upstairs and into my room. I can hear the music in my brothers room already. He only has music on when he and Mom get into it. That explains why she tagged along for the ride to pick me up. I close the door and drop what bag onto the floor and flop onto the bed. I didn't have time to close my eyes when I heard knocking.

"What?" I groaned. I did not want to get up off my bed.

"We will be having company over in a few hours so makes sure you presentable." Moms voice is overly heard. Dylan's music stops.

"Who?" I hear Dylan ask.

"The Ackles," She says. "They used to watch you guys when you were little. You guys got along with their kids."

"Who?" Dylans door opens but I can't shake that the name Ackles was familiar too. "You talk like we should remember them."

"Why do I even try?" Moms voice is irritated for whatever reason that is known to her. "Just be ready in two hours. Dylan don't wear look too goth. YN, don't wear pajamas. Make it look like you guys actually love your family."

I hear her footsteps retreating when a Dylan cracked the door. "Are you decent?" He asks.

"Yeah," I sit up on my bed and rub my face. I see my older brother walk into the room. He's wearing dark skinny jeans and a black button up shirt. I have no idea why Mom wouldn't think that's not goth like. "I think your outfit looks good." I toss another mini bottle of hard liquor towards him. He, of course, catches it flawlessly.

"Oh thank God," He cracks it open and tosses it back. "I do plan on wearing this and stuff like the whole time I'm here."

"Speaking of you being here," I pull out another mini bottle and toss that one back. Sadly its my last one. "Why are you here? I mean you've seen me a few times these last few years."

"Dad," Dylan says. "He says he's finally telling Mom he's high tailing it out of her life. Has the papers all drawn up and stuff. He wanted to see if he could live with me in Arizona. I automatically said yes because I want to see the look on Moms face when she sees her money source walk out on her."

Now I wish I packed more mini bottles. "Hopefully not in front of our dinner guest," I kind of hope he does secretly.

"No," Dylan stands up. "He won't do that. He will do it after they leave most likely. Now I will let you get ready and make sure you make yourself look like the fucking Queen that you are and slay that shit. Mom hates that."

I laugh. "As long as you do it too. Then we both can slay it together. And yes I will let you use my dark eye shadow palette."

"You're the best sister ever," Dylan walks out of the room. "What would I ever do without you?"

"Crash and burn, sweetheart, crash and burn."

Two hours came and went and both Dylan and I are ready. As we walk downstairs we hear the muffled voices of our parents and our dinner guests. This feels so much like my teenage years, I think to myself as I round the corner to the kitchen and stop dead in my tracks.

There stands the attractive man from the airport. In my kitchen. In my house. He's wearing a red button up shirt with jeans and nice semi-casual shoes. I zero in on his already darkening five o'clock shadow and begin to imagine what it would like in full. He notices me too and give me a smile.

"YN, Dylan," Moms voice sounds. She really never lets Dad talk at all. "I'm sure you remember the Ackles children. Well, they aren't children anymore but, you understand what I mean."

Everyone gives a light chuckle. "I'm afraid I don't remember. I don't remember much of my childhood to be honest." I say giving handshakes to everyone. I notice my brother Dylan hesitate to give the attractive man a handshake. Then I notice his small blush. Damn, I think, it would be my luck to see the same attractive man to learn he could be gay. I guess I'll see when my brother hard core flirts with him during dinner.

"I'm Jensen," he says shaking my hand.

"YN," I say smiling and he smiles back.

I get everyones names and Mom and Dad say dinner will be ready in about an hour or so. In that moment I excuse myself to the back deck to mix myself a drink. Mom glares at me while I walk away. I also notice Dylan trying to flirt with Joshua who was equally as attractive as his brother.

Once on the back deck I take a deep breath and head to Dads bar and start mixing a drink. Then I hear the door open and close. The sound of footsteps tell me its a male.

"So, the whole telling her highness to screw herself didn't happen, I assume," Jensens voice is super smooth.

I look up from my mixing. "If you're meaning my mother, then no it didn't. In fact she accused me of buying drugs."

"Really?!" Jensens voice sounds surpised. "Wow, isn't a plane ride supposed to be comfy?"

I throw my hands up in the air. "That's why I was thinking." I make the mistake of looking as he licks his lips. I turn away quickly and grab the other mixer. "Want a drink? I'm pretty good at mixing."

"Surprise me," Jensen says soft voice as he raises an eye brow and looks me other.

For the next half hour we talk. We talk about random things. We talk about his time on his hit shower Supernatural. A show for some reason I have never seen and now am very interested in. We talk about his life in between shooting his show and being home. I share that I am rarely ever home due to Mom. I don't go into details but I think he get's the gist of it.

"So, I have this huge vinyl collection. Passed down to me from my grandfather before he died." I say mixing another drink. I am slowly starting to feel the effects of this drink. Jensen is still working on his first glass. Such class that is getting horny. "Would you like to see it?"

Jensen smiles and sets his drink down to follow me inside. Dad looks up from listening to Jensen's dad. "What are you two up to?" He asks.

"I'm going to show Jensen grandpas vinyl collection he gave me." We waltz pass them and up the stairs. At the top I loose my balance and fall back into Jensen who grabs me with both his arms.

"One two many drinks?" He asks chucking.

"I promise I can handle my drinking," I begin to walk again. Once in my room I go to my closet and pull out a few boxes and open them. "My Dad was or is still going to be sending these to me but, have a look at them all you want. I don't have them organized."

Jensen looks at the records and with each one he finds that excites him, it excites me in places I never thought to be excited in again. I watch as his smile takes up his whole face and how his eyes crinkle when that happens. I guess I'm staring too long because Jensen looks up a few times with his eyes. I know I should I look away but I honestly can't. This man is just too handsome and sexy to just look away.

Jensen sets down a Sinatra record and comes over to sit next to me on the bed. I am very aware now of how close he is but I still can't stop staring. I rack him over with my eyes and take a deep breath and exhale. I look away and take a huge drink. Nope, no tonight, not in this house, I think to myself. Mom will find out and she will have my ass for having sex yet again in her house. l turn to apologize for staring when I feel his hand on my face pulling it in towards him.

His lips are soft. His lips are eager. His lips move around mine like they were made to be there. I sigh and part my lips and I feel his tongue shot right into my mouth and explore every part it. When he starts to pull back, I nip his bottom lip. Jensen sucks in a deep breath and within seconds he has me straddling his lap. The two of us trying to get our shirts off when my door opens.

"YN, Mom says dinner is,..." Dylan's voice snaps the both of us out of whatever trance we are in. "Well, I see that you skipped right on to dessert. Please continue." I look over to see Dylan checking Jensen out leaning on the door frame licking his lips.

"Don't you know how to knock?" I hiss at him fumbling to fix my shirt.

"Don't you know how to put a sock on the door?" Dylan asks smirking, still checking Jensen out.

Dinner was good. I couldn't keep my eyes from glancing at Jensen as he talked about his show and his co stars. Mom was just over the moon and always ask questions that were like "Oh Jared this" or "Oh Misha that." I will need to look those guys up too.  I could also tell that Jensen was getting uncomfortable. So I brought the attention to myself which of course Mom hated. Her death glare let me know it too. Dinner ended on a high note though.

"Here, put your number in and I'll do the same," Jensen held out his phone. "That way we can talk while I'm shooting." I take his phone and give him mine. We put our numbers in and say goodnight and goodbye. Hopefully, I think, I get to see him again.

The rest of my time home actually went to hell. The next morning we wake up to Mom screaming at Dad. He had given her the papers and told her she either had to sign now or sign in front of lawyers. Mom tries everything in the book but Dad stood his ground. In the end, Mom storms out screaming and calling Dad all sorts of names and saying she has nothing to her name and that he can't just up and leave her. Says that he can't live life without her because he is nothing without her.

After Mom left, I changed my flight to leave before Thanksgiving. I wanted nothing to do with what was going to go down. According Dad, Dylan already has space for him set up in Arizona. I felt better about him having a place. Two days before leaving, I pack up what I else I wanted to take to Portland with me. Everything else would be put into storage for later or donated. Dylan helped me ship them off.

The day before I left, Mom tries to talk to me but I told her she did it to herself all these years. The manipulation. The gas lighting. The mental abuse. The emotional abuse. The whole deal. It was all her that lead to this. She huffed and called me a bitch and that I am no better than Dad. So by the time I make it home, I am a wreck.

Over the next few months, I bury myself in my work and ignoring Mom. Dad on the other hand was doing much better. Already got a job out in Arizona and is saving up to get a small apartment. Dylan tells me he's the happiest and most easy going person without Mom. Mom on the other hand still refuses to sign the papers and has gotten cocky lawyers involved. She wants him to alimony and when he dies she wants me to continue to pay it. I said hell no. Dad stood his ground until the very bitter end.

While that was all going on and when it was finally over, I spoke non stop to Jensen. I even caught up to the current season of his show and tell him what I think of it all. We talk about anything that will keep us texting or talking all into the hours of the night. Neither of us mention that night in my room. Dylan thinks I'm falling for him with how much I talk about him. I doubt it but then again I might be.

Jensen, has been the only person to make me feel like I am not crazy. He has called me or facetimed me to help me through the rough days or the out the blue panic attacks. His entire existence keeps me from doing anything stupid. So, yeah, you can say that I'm falling head over heels hard for him.

By the time summer started to come around I am sitting in my apartment trying to get my AC to work when my phone rings. I answer without looking at the caller ID.

"Whats up?" I even hear the irritation in my voice.

"Hey," Jensens voice instantly calms me. "Everything okay?"

"No," I groan and flop onto the cold tile in my small kitchen. "My AC broke and the landlord won't have anyone out until next week. I told him he won't see rent until it's fixed. Now he's threatening to evict me if I don't pay. But it's so damn hot that I'm practically naked right now."

"I'd love to see that," Jensen teases, making me laugh. "I'm sorry your AC is jacked up. Do you have plans on visiting Dallas?"

I sit up on my elbow. "Should I?"

Four days later Jensen is picking me up from the airport in a rental car. He paid for my entire flight and AirBnB taken care of. "I thought you would like to have control of what your AC temperature should be. Hotels normally run super cold to the point that Misha has tried spooning with me." I laugh. "I do hope it isn't weird that I am also staying that AirBnB."

"None at all," I say feeling my face warm up a bit. It didn't take Jensen long to convince me to come. I really wanted to see him and I really wanted AC.

When we get to the AirBnB, I can't help stare at it in awe. It's almost like a mansion. Then the garage door opens and there sits a motorcycle. I am much more interested in this Jensen guy. I get out to grab my things but Jensen shoos me aside saying he's got it all. I then walk on over to the motorcycle and trail my hand on it.

"Isn't she a beauty?" Jensen asks. I look and he's staring at me, well, more like slowly running his eyes over my body.

"Yeah," I answer looking back at the motorcycle. "My Dad used to have one when we were little. My Mom forced him sell it for whatever reason."

Jensen takes in a deep breath and walks by me. "I can take you around the block if you want." I am suddenly aware of his closeness. I feel my face burn hotter and I get all tingly down south. I look at Jensen and he's already holding two helmets. I smile and take a helmet and strap it on.

In minutes, I am sitting with my arms wrapped around Jensen. He's backing out of the garage and with a small rev of the motorcycle, we took off. It isn't too fast or too slow. But I still tightened my arms around him and closed my eyes. I have been on a motorcycle a few times but, I still get a knot in my stomach.

When we get back, I take my helmet off and take a deep breath. "That was fun," I say as Jensen manages to slide of the motorcycle. He takes his helmet off as well and I can't help but stare at his sweaty hair. That's when I notice he's been growing out his beard. I can't imagine what it would feel like on my skin. Again, I must be staring to hard or to long because Jensen smiles like he knows what I am thinking.

I swing my legs to the side as he walks towards me. As he reaches for my face I drop the helmet and grab hold of his shirt and pull him closer to me. The moment our lips met, my brain starts to set off firecrackers. It felt like a freaking life time since the last time we kissed.

Jensens hands run down my front to the hem of my shirt. I raise my arms up and he slowly slides off. I do the same to him. I've seen him shirtless a few times on his show and internet pictures but seeing it all in real life, damn! I bite my lips and Jensen licks his lips. I slide off the motorcycle and shimmy out of my shorts and underwear. Jensen watches with lust in his eyes and does the same thing. Jensen grabs my hips and sits me back on the motorcycle as he kisses me deeply. The longer he isn't inside me, I more wet and tingly I become.

As if reading my mind, and without breaking his lips off mine, I feel Jensens fingers slide between my folds and begins to rub it before slipping  two fingers inside. I suck in a deep, sharp breath and let out a soft moan. He starts to pull in and out and twist his finger around softly but firmly. In seconds, I am starting to tighten up around his fingers when he pulls them out. I whimper at the lose of contact.

"Not yet," he says against my lips.

Jensen grabs my hips and picks me up. I wrap my legs around him as he slides himself onto the motorcycle. This is going to be interesting and fun. Jensen adjusts us so that we both were somewhat comfortable before lifting me up and positioning me just above his length. I place my hands on his shoulders as he lowers me on him. I close my eyes and drop my head. I hear a low groan come from him as he's fully inside of me. I look up and see him staring right at me.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he says and I smile. His hands grip tight on my hips. They will most likely leave a mark and I am fine with that. He lifts me up and slams me back down. A yelp escaping my mouth.

We repeat that for what I think is nearly a half hour. I am a whimpering mess and trying to hold back my louder moans. Jensen is grunting and the lifting up and down thing, well, thats starting to get irregular and sloppy. Our breathing is getting ragged and the the leather from the seat is start to rub on both our skins. One slam. Two slams. Three slams. I feel myself tighten harder around Jensen. My fingers dig into his shoulders, also going to leave marks. After one more slam into his lap, we both come undone. His arms wrap around me and I drag my nails down his back.

Once our orgasm fade away, I push back and look Jensen in the eyes. "That has got to be the best sex I have ever had," I plant a small and gentle kiss on his lips.

"Good," Jensen smirks. "I got some more ideas for the bedroom later." He must of seen the look on my face, because I am seriously intrigued now. "But first," He slides both of us off the motorcycle. "We should clean up. We have dinner with Jared and his wife."

[sirius-archive]

Could I get an imagine where the reader is a muggle American and she’s on vacation in London with her family and she somehow lost her family and she’s like freaking out and then she runs into Sirius on the streets and he like helps calm her down and helps her find her family? Sorry if this is a weird request

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader, James Potter x Lily Evans (mentioned) 

Warnings: Swearing, stranger danger too, I guess. 

A/N: so sorry this took so long! I loved the idea and I hope I did it justice. I might add to it later on or revamp it bc I love the idea but it’s a big maybe at the moment bc I’m so busy with uni and work and also my other wips. I hope you enjoy this though. Also I changed the request quite a bit bc I forgot what you originally wanted! So sorry!! 

just want to add that I did something o probably shouldn’t and included my real life friends! With their permission, ofc. I also made a modern reference even tho it’s supposed to be the seventies but I liked it too much so I left it in ha ha. Also…pls don’t talk to strangers. This is fanfiction people not an advice column. 

****

It’s another uncharacteristically warm day in London.

The sun showers blankets of warm golden light over the city, guilding skyscrapers and warming the sweet, honeyed breeze. Sparrows are chirping sweet, morning songs, dancing in the air with surprising grace. Squirrels scamper across lush green grounds in a park nearby, happily bidding you a good morning.

And not one of these motherfuckers are going to help you find your friends.

You wander aimlessly past the same park monument you saw just half an hour ago. Your legs are already aching, your feet are forming blisters that hurt the more you think about them, and the sun is slowly drilling into your soul.

You think you might die of thirst before you find your friends.

In retrospect, it wasn’t entirely Sophie’s fault. While it was her dumb shit idea to tag along with the sexy British tour guide, you, Matt, Aaron, Riley and Reuben had been far more interested in touring the British Museum. So it wasn’t at all surprising when Sophie rushed off with knockoff Colin Firth to have a jolly high tea or whatever it is British people do on dates. Still, it gave you an opportunity to visit the museum.

You hadn’t even walked through the front gates when Matt, Aaron and Riley wandered off to have a deep and meaningful (you had warned Riley that coming on the trip with Aaron would cause some tension between your group. Thing between you and Aaron were a lot more complicated than the five-night-stand you’d shared last year). Reuben, being his usual womanising self, started flirting with the hot receptionist and not wanting any part of that (last time you wing-womaned for Reuben, the chick thought you were seeking a third), you stepped out for some air.

Now, you’re trying to navigate through the urban maze that is London by yourself, struggling to find your friends who are scattered all over the city.

Slumping against a park chair, you take a deep breath and study your map again. A part of you is screaming at you to swallow your pride and ask for directions but you’re a stubborn New Yorker and if you can effortlessly find your way through the Big Apple, you can tackle London.

“You’re not from around here…” says a masculine voice behind you. You sit up straight, whipping around in the direction of the voice.

Holy fucking cucumber sandwich.

The most handsome man you’ve ever laid your eyes on leans against the trunk of an old oak tree, observing you with a mixture of amusement and intrigue. He looks like he chomps down magical donuts that grant him sexy powers. You stare.

A cigarette hangs from his kissable, smirking lips. His hair falls gracefully around his face, framing glinting gray-blue eyes, high cheekbones and a strong jaw. He’s wearing a leather jacket and exudes all types mysterious-sexy-bad boy vibes. You’d bet a hundred bucks that he rides a motorcycle too.

Boys with motorcycles are usually trouble.

Your mouth goes a little bit dry.

“Please don’t be a serial killer,” you mutter and the stranger cocks a perfect eyebrow.

“What was that?”

You shake your head, “I mean — Is it that obvious?”

Sexy bad boy stranger shrugs, “I know a lost tourist when I see one.”

“Is this what you do, then? Lurk around parks waiting for lost tourists?”

Bad boy chuckles — a deep growling sound that rumbles at the back of his throat, “Maybe. Maybe I was just walking past and thought I’d help out a pretty girl in need.”

It takes all of your willpower not to blush now.

“So you’re just a Good Samaritan, then.”

“I’m whatever you want me to be.”

“What if I want you to go away?”

The handsome, young motorbike guy takes a deliberate step forward, “I think we both know that’s not true.”

You swallow. He’s good at this game. Something tells you that you’re not the first victim of his play-boy charms.

Desperately trying to reclaim your composure, you fold your arms across your chest and glare at him.

“What makes you think I need your help?”

British James Dean thinks for one attractive moment, “Well, you don’t have to accept my help but something tells me that if you don’t ask for directions soon, you’re going to end up wandering around London forever.”

He makes a good point.

You stand up from your seat, arms still folded across your chest, “Hypothetically speaking, If I were to accept your help, how would I know that you’re not a perverted serial killer who wants to collect my spleen and leave me in a ditch or something?”

Sexy stranger takes another step forward, “That’d be a shame. You’re too beautiful to kill, and I’m just beginning to like you.”

“That’s exactly what a perverted serial killer would say.”

“Touché. Alright, how about this: I drop you off at your hotel straight away, no detours and no taxi fees that you have to fork out to greedy muggl— erm, I mean, drivers.”

You consider this. He certainly doesn’t seem like a serial killer. Still, it’s hard to trust a charming stranger, especially one as handsome as he is. Then again, if he’s smart — which he definitely is — he’d never kill you in broad daylight in the middle of London.

You uncross your arms and hold one out for him to shake, “Alright, deal.”

Sexy stranger takes your hand and shakes it. His hand is strong and firm and electricity sparks in the warm space where your hands are clasped together.

“Sirius.”

“What?”

“Sirius.”

You blink at him, “Is that some kind of fungal STI that I need to be aware of?”

Sexy stranger chuckles again, “My name is Sirius.”

Sirius? Who the fuck calls their kid Sirius? You have to admit that the name suits him, and the way he says it — in a husky, velvety murmur — gives the name an alluring sex appeal, which sums him up completely.

You consider giving him a fake name but ultimately decide against it. That’s just weird and you can’t lie for shit.

“I’m (Y/N).”

Sirius repeats your name, tasting it on his lips. A more carnal part of you wishes he’d say it in a completely different context.

“Alright, (Y/N),” Sirius smiles, and he practically glows with charisma, “Lets get you home.”

***

You were right, of course. About the motorcycle.

Sirius’ carefully-polished motorbike is almost as sexy as it’s owner; gleaming in the sunlight and flaunting a sleek black paint job with plush leather seats. Several passerby’s stop to admire it (or Sirius, you can’t exactly tell), though Sirius doesn’t pay them any mind. One dudebro with a repugnantly bright tank top gawks at the motorbike while his girlfriend stares hungrily at Sirius.

“I’ve…never ridden a motorcycle before,” you bleat nervously.

Sirius hands you a helmet and smiles.

“Just hold onto me and you’ll be fine.”

Sirius mounts his motorbike and you awkwardly slide in behind him. You’re not sure where to put your hands so you place them on his shoulders. You think you hear Sirius laugh behind his helmet.

Sirius turns the ignition, revs the engine, and kicks the bike into gear.

“You alright back there?” He calls over the roar of the bike.

“Uh—yeah.”

“Hold onto my waist,” he orders, “You’ll be more secure.”

You’re about to protest but then Sirius takes off and you find your arms flying to his waist, gripping on tightly.

It’s exhilarating. Liberating. Intoxicating.

As Sirius weaves between London traffic, you feel a rush of adrenaline pulse through your veins. The air whips past, fluttering around the ruffled trim of your dress. Your hands soak in the warmth of Sirius’ body, his muscles firm beneath your touch.

You pass familiar landmarks and stores you passed when you and your friends took the double-decker bus from your hotel room. You recognise the buildings around you and realise the hotel is just a few kilometres down the street, on the right.

Suddenly, Sirius veers off to the left and zooms down a street you don’t recognise.

“What are you doing? The hotel is up that way!”

“I just have to make a quick stop,” he shouts over his shoulder.

“That wasn’t part of the deal!”

“Don’t worry, it won’t take long.”

You clutch onto him, apprehension beginning to claw away at your lower belly. Where is he taking you? How could you have been so stupid to trust an extremely attractive stranger to follow through with a deal?

Sirius slows the bike down until it rolls to a stop and flicks the engine off, climbing off sexily. He helps you clamber awkwardly off the bike and you tear your helmet off, taking in your surroundings for the first time.

You’re next to a footpath with a view of the The Thames, lined with large ornamental pear trees. Its quite a romantic spot with a view of the entire city sitting pretty behind the flowing River Thames.

Sirius tells you to wait by the motorbike and stalks away, rushing toward a boy who looks about your age. He’s tall, has messy black hair, and half-frame glasses. He looks like a sexy professor with the body of an Olympic swimmer that all the girls have crushes on.

Why are all the men here so insanely attractive?

You’re just about to sink into a delightful fantasy of sexy Professor feeding you grapes when Sirius comes up behind you.

“Ready to go?”

You ignore his question, “Who was the god — I mean — guy that you saw?”

Sirius arches an eyebrow. You notice for the first time that there is a scar knitted into it, “That’s James. He’s a total prat, by the way.”

“Sounds like you two have that in common,” you quip and Sirius mocks offence.

“Anyone tell you that you’re cruel?”

“Everyday of my life.”

“Here I was thinking you were just another hot little American bird.”

For one half of a millisecond, your brain snags on the word ‘hot.’ Did he just call you hot? You heard that right? You recover with grace, grinning wickedly.

“You’ll get over it.”

A teasing smirk flirts around the corners of Sirius’ lips, a little crookedly, slanting lazily in a way that makes your cheeks warm. He looks amused by this verbal tug-of-war but also a little turned on.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same way.

“You ever walk along the River Thames?” Sirius asks, sliding his strong, sexy hands into the pocket of his sexy leather jacket. He begins to follow the footpath, leading you past the knots of pigeons and moonstruck lovers.

“No,” you sigh, “Admittedly, I just came along for the underage drinking and the hot British guys.”

Sirius laughs, “How’s that working out for you?”

You shrug, teasing him with a flirtatious smile, “I’m still working on it.”

“If you want,” Sirius begins, clawing at the nape of his neck, “I can help you out with that.”

You quirk a carefully-manicured brow, “What, you know any hot guys like your buddy James?”

Sirius snorts, “I wouldn’t go saying that around his girlfriend.”

“Why, is she the jealous type?”

“No, she’s the ‘try-not-to-make-his-fat-Head-even-fatter’ type.”

You chuckle, intrigue plucking at your mind, “She’s my type of girl.”

“Lily is everyone’s type of girl.”

“Well now I just have to meet her.”

Sirius raises his brows, a spark of hope in his eyes, “Is that your way of telling me that you’re taking me up on the offer for free beer?”

“You never said it was free before.”

“I’m feeling generous.”

“Aw, and they say chivalry is dead.”

Sirius laughs easily in a way that is completely carefree, as though laughter bubbles just beneath his skin, itching to pour out. It’s mesmerising how he doesn’t seem to take life too seriously.

“You are something else,” he says, letting his eyes catch and linger on yours for a quiet, suspended moment.

A gust of warm, summer wind brings peach blossoms raining down. The gentle coo of a skylark echoes in the distance. Time slows to a stop to stare at the two of you.

He steps forward, like he’s about to kiss you.

You let him.

He tastes like liquor and rebellion, a little wild in a way you’ve never realised you’ve wanted, you’ve needed. His hands are strong as they wrap around you, pulling you flush against his chest. Your fingers roam through his hair, tangling, tugging, earning a low groan from the back of his throat. You feel drunk on him, your head spinning and your heart thumping, as though it’s trying to tear through your chest and leap into his strong, capable hands. Suddenly, you realise how weird this is. He’s a stranger you’ve known for an hour or so yet now you’re kissing him. It’s as though you’re somehow drawn to him, to his energy, to the way he seems to know you intimately, in ways you hardly know about yourself. You break away, taking a step away from him. Sirius looks like he’s five again and has just had his favourite toy ripped away from him. 

““Are you—?”

Slap

Before you even realise what you’re doing, you’re slapping him across the cheek, not hard but he feels it. You kissed a stranger. That is a thing you did. You also slapped said stranger, partly because of impulse and partly because you’re terrified of how quickly your feelings are beginning to stir for someone you hardly know. Sirius is stunned, silent, staring at you with shock and hurt that stings you more than it should. You stare back, drawn in by every fleck of colour in his eyes, suddenly aware that, sure, he may be a stranger but that doesn’t mean he has to stay one. Obviously, you have a connection.

 So…connect.

 You crash your lips against his again, throwing your arms around his neck. 

Your friends can wait. You’ve found yourself a new tour guide. 

[lampmeeting]

what are your headcanons for magnus's backstory? i really enjoy picking apart underdeveloped villains to see what makes them tick and building up backstory that Explains why they do the shit they do and... you seem to also have many thoughts about magnus

ohhh!! yes i have thoughts! :D i still haven’t delved super in-depth into his past but here’s some VERY LONG messy, rambly stuff that’s like partially ideas i’ve had already and partially things i’m pulling right out of my ass (seriously this is long i’m sorry haha)

first big thing is that his dad was a really loving, warm person. just a big tall friendly dude, kind of a free spirit, also a veteran (fought in korea maybe? i think that timing would work out if magnus was born in the early 60s). he died in a motorcycle accident when magnus was like 9 or 10. maybe magnus was on the bike with him but survived, not sure how sad i wanna go here. his mom, who had always struggled with depression, fell into a really dark period and magnus tried to be there for her but he was just a grieving little kid. :( 

he has an older half-sister from his dad’s first marriage, and she was about 17 when he died and then left the family because she couldn’t deal with it (i don’t think magnus really reconnects with her in any significant way until after dethklok kicks him out).

i’m lifting this straight from marc maron but he’s jewish since his mother was jewish. his mom wasn’t religious though (at least when he was younger). about a year or so after his dad’s passing, though, his mom meets a man through her job and ultimately marries him. magnus’ step-dad is just...awful. very strict catholic. very controlling of his mom. the guy has magnus baptized shortly after the marriage. magnus goes through a really intense satanism phase in his teens as a way to rebel (this is also when he gets into metal - it’s the mid-70s so alice cooper and black sabbath are his faves). even as an adult magnus has a weird, complicated relationship with religion. he’d call himself an atheist but he has periods when he’s more of a misotheist and then other periods where he’s, like, afraid of god. it’s all very complicated.

after high school he decides to enlist in the army just like his dad did. he has no fucking idea what to do with himself so he thinks if it worked for his dad, it’ll work for him. wrong haha, he hates it. he picked up smoking and drinking in his teens, but the army amps those vices up to 11 and he starts experimenting with drugs too, mostly acid. surprise surprise, he gets in trouble for buying shit off-base from an undercover cop, and he’s dishonorably discharged. :O

his step-dad doesn’t allow him to come live back home after that, and his mom just defers to him now, so magnus spends a while living out of his truck. it’s a bleak time. he’s in his early 20s. all he’s got is his car and his guitar and a few other possessions. starts busking. for him, it’s humiliating work. spends most of his money on cigarettes and alcohol. somehow he ends up gigging at a local dive bar and gets a job washing dishes in the back. over the next few years he’s in and out of various bands, but he never really saves enough money to get a place. it’s kind of his weird secret, that he’s still living in the truck. he has a few relationships with various people, some bandmates, some fans, one coworker. they only ever last a couple months or so until they get too close and magnus starts itching to be by himself again, even though he’s miserable alone. but that’s preferable to having someone in his space all the time, knowing his business.

it’s during this time, too, that he picks up his heroin habit from a bandmate (that’s why the band dissolved, they all got addicted) but he tells himself he’s got it under control (the mental gymnastics with this man...). eventually he decides he’s done with bands, he’s just gonna play solo since he’s obviously more talented than anyone he could possibly play with. makes a pretty good name for himself, plays some local events, has a few solo albums that do all right, but no mainstream attention or anything.

it’s pickles who reaches out to him when magnus is in his early 30s (it’s like 1994 or something). wants to know if he’s at all interested in going back to his metal roots because they just had to get rid of their previous lead guitarist due to heroin addiction. magnus admits he’s interested, comes to a practice session. the guys are all phenomenal, and magnus sees some serious dollar signs. dethklok starts getting huge pretty quickly after that. they ditch their older manager at magnus’ insistence that he’s holding them back, and pickles knows a guy and gets him on board (hello charlie!). they all buy into a huge apartment so they can live and practice in the same place. there’s talk of a recording contract. everything’s looking up, even if they’re all starting to bicker behind the scenes.

it’s around this time that magnus hears from his step-dad that his mother died. a month ago. it was a lovely funeral, but he didn’t want magnus there due to his history with drugs, didn’t want him to make a scene and “act crazy”. after that magnus begins to slip. his addiction and depression spiral. he’s blowing up at people left and right, feels out of control. the only thing he thinks he can control is the band, and his grip tightens hard. he butts heads with pickles quite a bit, who definitely suspects something bad is up with him. magnus fears there’s talk of getting rid of him, and his paranoia makes him try to assert even more control.

finally we reach That Night. we know what goes down. magnus finds himself kicked out with his gear, homeless again, face busted. he gets in his truck, shoots up, goes for a drive for a while, feels good. when he comes down, though, he’s furious and his face fucking hurts and he wants to fucking kill something. he drives back to the apartment, finding everyone either out or asleep. he makes a move for nathan’s bedroom door, intent on finishing the job, but he doesn’t. and then he just gets pissed off at himself, wrecks up the place, and drives away again. he keeps telling himself he should just drive off the road and end it, but he doesn’t, and when he crosses state lines into new mexico he realizes he’s been driving to his half-sister’s house this whole time. they’d talked occasionally over the years but not much, but the moment he knocks on her door she takes him in with no questions asked. he doesn’t want any doctors so she just tends to his face as best she can, and when he starts to detox she looks after him. his sister makes her living as a reiki healer and is super into crystals and meditation and stuff, so while he’s living with her she tries to help him get his energies all aligned and whatnot hahaha... she’s also a recovered addict so no alcohol or drugs in the house. it’s a really weird time for magnus, but it’s good too. he probably ends up living with her for a few years, just keeping a low profile, playing guitar, trying to heal from shit.

dethklok gets huge very, very quickly. he tries not to pay attention but soon enough he’s seeing billboards for their album and tour, interviews on TV, magazine covers. a documentary comes out on MTV about the history of the band, and there’s a whole section about magnus with photos of him and people talking about how angry and controlling he was. they interview the band, people he played with in the past, old flames. his sister says she was approached for it, but she declined to comment. magnus is distraught, and almost overnight every time he goes into town for anything someone recognizes him and gives him shit (or worse, recognizes him and wants him to tell them all about dethklok). he gets things thrown at him, gets his tires slashed, gets approached for sex but only because of his connection to the band. dethklok fans at this point are getting even more zealous.

he has a really bad night and considers just shaving his head and beard so he won’t be recognized, but he can’t bring himself to do it. he starts drinking again, hiding it from his sister, and eventually just leaves in the middle of the night without a word. calls her in the morning when he reaches a stopping place, apologizes, confesses he’s off the wagon. she wires him some money, a pretty significant amount, and tells him to get an apartment and take care of himself. magnus, surprisingly, does just that. he feels it’s the least he can do to repay her kindness.

he still drinks, but i don’t think he gets back into drugs until he starts doing the rock camp thing years later. being around those old washed-up musicians and being “ex-dethklok guitarist magnus hammersmith” makes him feel like shit, even if the money is good, and most of these dudes are still using. heroin’s not chic anymore, though, it’s all about pills.

the assassin knows exactly what he’s doing when he shows himself to magnus on the anniversary of his mother’s death. offers him a chance to take his life back, to help change the world, to make sure dethklok gets what’s coming to them once and for all. magnus had all but given up hope on ever escaping from their shadow, but this...the assassin makes some sense, so in the middle of the night he agrees, and in the morning he finds an address scrawled on the wall in blood. and the rest is history i suppose. :’)

[funghoul-mustdie]

hey unhnhmgmgmmgm whats the vibe????? also tell me literally any silly mems from any of ur tls. u asked for this but i forgot which tl u were asking for. idk give me silly mems. - babinga 🔪

hello babinga the vibes r good rn

funky mems lemme think

there was this one time as show pony i decided i was gonna lay on a table and i didnt realize until after there was broken glass on the table and i just layed there. with the glass in my back. because i didnt wanna admit i fucked up

as kobra i somehow managed to get my motorcycle on the roof of the diner and just. rode off the roof. that was epic because i didnt die 😎

as mad gear me and missile kid argued over something dumb and they disappeared for like a week and only showed up for shows n stuff cus theyre a petty bitch

as cherri the fab 4 liked to give me poems to read on air. show pony once gave me one about sex and i had to stop reading it not even halfway through. they were mad at me for not reading the whole thing

more cherri mems kobra once gave me a “poem” that was just “ur stupid” written on a napkin.

once again a cherri mem i wrote a poem about bread once. no one knew it was about bread. show pony asked what it was about and i just said “bread” and they stared at me for a second and walked away

as ghoul i ate a spider. and gum that i found under a table. and sand. and a worm. and a can of beans that had been opened and sitting in the diner for a week. and

i cant think of anything else rn but yeah !

there u go babinga i hope this was enough to fill the void

[katandabbieslife]

What was the naughtiest thing you girls did as teens?

I wrote about this incident once before here as an answer to another anonymous question but did not go into a lot of detail then. Here it is again with more detail. Kat will answer when she gets time. She’s began taking over the Riding School management from her mother for the summer since Music festivals were cancelled or postponed this summer. She has been quite busy.

I was a very sexual 17 year old pixie. I'm bisexual and had been "dating" my bff since we were 14 but we also dated guys too. One day at school, this guy I liked asked me to a movie and I said yes. My parents let me date as long as I drove because they didn't want me to have to rely on someone else for a ride. My stepdad has a little family tradition where everyone in the family has a car from their birthyear. He has a '67 Mustang, My mother has a '69 Camaro SS, My Brother has a '91 Miata, and when it came time for me, I chose a '96 Eclipse. I grew up riding motorcycles with my cousins and brother so I knew the whole concept of clutch and shifting gears so I knew how to drive a stickshift.

So, the night of the date comes up and I hadn't had sex for a few weeks and I really liked this guy and had known him for years. We flirted at parties, made out a few times and I thought this date was his way of taking things further. He wasn't the first guy I'd had sex with, but from everything I knew about him, he was the biggest. I daydreamed all day about how he might want to do it, and I could feel myself getting wet. I wanted so badly to go into the bathroom and finger myself at least 4 times that day but I held off thinking it would be that much better on my date.

So, that evening, I avoid fingering myself in the bathroom as I was getting ready. I chose my outfit carefully. Mom knew I liked the guy, but she also knew we'd known each other for years and she said he always treated me like a sister. I wore a tight little pair of jeans and a hooded henley top. I grabbed my purse and head out downstairs and my mom noticed my purse was bulging a little, I told her I stuffed a hoodie in it because you know how chilly movie theaters get. She laughed and said she always freezes to death, then kissed me on the forehead and told me to have fun and I was off.

As I got to my car I reached down and unsnapped my pants and got in my car. I'm only 4'11" and at that time, I was 85lbs I think. I'm 23 now and have weighed as much as 95lbs, but I'm currently at 88lbs. Anyway, I got in the car, backed out of the driveway and headed down the street. I turned the corner and pulled over and shut my lights off. Unbuckled my seat belt and reached down to quickly shimmy out of my jeans and pull my top off. I grabbed my bag and pulled out "The Hoodie" which was actually a mini skirt and a spaghetti strap tank top. I quickly put the top on, then slid my seat all the way back pulled my feet up on the edge of the seat and slipped my skirt on real quick. I pushed my feet back into my shoes real quick, pulled the straps back up over my heels and stepped out of the car to adjust and flatten my skirt and so I could slide my seat back forward (I'm too small to do it while sitting in it.) I got back in the car and sped off down the street to the theater.

I got there, met up with my date and he smiled when I walked up. I reached out to put my arms around him and he leaned down to kiss me...on the forehead... WTF? My Mom does that? I thought ok, he's just being his shy self, maybe I need to help him a little. Don't forget, I was horny asf! We got our tickets, grabbed some candy and I got a drink, then we went in to grab some seats. We sat there and talked about school, about how our summer went, and friends until the light dims and the "turn off or silence your phones" messages, trailers, and ads started. And I reach over to hold his hand and he loosely holds mine back. Not one to be deterred, I lean over against him and pull his hand over to me and hold his hand with both of mine right on my right breast. I started Puberty at 8 years old and my breasts exploded. I was a C cup at 12 years old, one of only 2 in our school then and I stopped at C, the other girl went on to a DD at 13. We both got tons of unwanted attention. Anyway, I'm sitting there holding his hand against my breast kind of hoping he’d go for a squeeze, but nothing.

We sat there for about a half an hour and until he pulled his hand away and said he had to go to the bathroom, then got up and walked up the aisle. I had a few M&M’s and a little bit of Dr Pepper and when he got back, he sat down and tucked his hands under his legs, kind of leaning forward a little. I asked if he's ok and he said yeah and asked what he missed. I filled him in and he sat back again and got a drink. I grabbed his hand again and told him his hands were cold, and I held them close to me and told him I could warm them up and pulled his left hand over and tried to cup my tiny hands around his large hand and breathed warm air on it. It warmed up and I reached across and grabbed his other hand and did the same. I held his hand for a second and kissed it and looked up at him and dragged my lower lip up his finger and kissed the top of his hand and he smiled. After a few more minutes, I reached over to hold his hand again and just left my hand holding his and laying on his lap. Hoping to feel an erection or something to gauge his reaction and I felt it. A small soft bump in his jeans, I rocked our hands back and forth a few times over his "bump" hoping to stimulate him a little and nothing. I held his hand off and on through the rest of the movie, placed them between my bare legs if I felt them cooling down, telling him that might warm them up a little and then it happened. I felt his hand slide up my legs a little more and within a few minutes, he was rubbing the back of his finger up and down over my panties. Then, he stopped. I was disappointed that the movie was almost over and he hadn't tried anything.

My disappointment grew as I saw the credits start to creep up from the bottom of the screen, I was getting ready to stand and he grabbed my hand and held it firmly and the first thought was "Now? After the movie is over?" then I thought maybe he had something planned after the movie. I wasn't expected home until 1am and it was 11:30pm. We waited until the last few people left, then we stood and he put his arm around me and we walked out. He walked me to my car and he kissed me, firmly and passionately and I started thinking "ok, this is it!" and then he broke the kiss and told me to text him when I got home so he knew I made it home safely. I sighed and told him I would, but I had to stop at Walmart on the way home and it might be a bit. He told me to text him at 1am since he knew I had to be in by then and I agree. I got in my car and sped off through the mostly empty parking lot and head toward home.

I pulled into the Walmart parking lot right at midnight and there might have been 10 or 15 cars total and this parking lot was big enough for maybe 3 football fields side by side by side. I pulled in and got ready to get out of the car and I thought for a minute and let my hand slip between my legs, pulled my panties to the side and slid my finger up and down my wet little slit. I began pushing deeper until I was sliding down and inside, then back out and up over my clit. As I enjoyed this, I let my head fall back against the seat and my eyes drift shut before hearing a car pulling down through the parking lot. I snapped out of it, popped my fingers in my mouth to suck them clean, grabbed a wipe out of my bag and wiped my hands clean. As I opened the door and swung my legs out, still as horny as ever, had a thought. I stood up, looked around the parking lot and not seeing a single soul, slipped my hands under my skirt and slipped my panties off real quick and tossed them to the passenger side floor, grabbed my bag and shut my door. I headed inside to get some ice cream and walked through the clothes to see if they had any cute outfits. Nothing. I went to pay for my ice cream and headed back out to my car. Feeling the breeze blowing under my skirt and blowing over my wet little pussy was giving me a thrill that I had not had in a while. I'd gone through class several times, commando on dares from friends but never in public like this.

As I was getting back in the car, I slid my skirt up over my ass a little and sat down. As I started the car, I was thinking of what I was going to do to get off when I got home and I laid my hand on the gear shift and got ready to back out of the space. Then I felt it, the vibrations of the car. I had planned on teasing myself all the way home but I was already too far gone. I shifted into first gear and started to ward the exit and I saw the very far corner of the parking lot and the parking lot lights were off. I couldn't tell if anyone was parked over there until I got turned in the direction and my headlights showed no cars. I zipped over there and backed into the very corner and turned my lights off. I unbuckled my seat belt and propped my right foot up on the center console and rest the ball of my foot against the gear shift with the car still running, knowing the car wouldn't go into gear unless I pressed in the clutch. As I sat there, fingering myself in the Walmart parking lot, thinking about how I, the daughter of an attorney and the stepdaughter of a man owning 30 sporting goods stores had been driven to such a white trash activity, I noticed the vibrations of the car again. My ball of my foot felt good resting against the gear shift and was actually turning me on a little more and I stopped for a minute, and then wondered as I leaned forward and a thought hit me. I placed my hand on the gear shift and felt it. I threw my leg over the center console, moved my ass up on the little compartment where I kept lip balm, ear buds, pens, change and whatever else I could throw in there and I felt myself slide a little. I was wet and slippery. I swung my leg up in the seat, and then did the same with the other leg, so I was sitting on my legs with my knees near the front edge of the seats. I inched forward a little, looking around for any cars or people walking my way and nothing. I slid forward a little more and placed my mound against the gearshift. I felt the most incredible vibrations coming off the engine as I began to rock back and forth against it. I moved forward to put a little more pressure on it and I rose up a little to let the shifter knob slide back and forth over my pussy a few time as I reached down and rub my clit. I started getting into it more and more before I felt the shifter knob settling in a little. I was so far gone at this point; I pressed a little harder and let my weight force the gearshift knob inside me. OMG, this was incredible, I slid up and down the gear shift a few times and then the shifter knob hit that special spot inside. I dropped my left arm down to press the gas pedal with my hand to rev the engine, and in turn, rev me too. It was amazing, I was riding a huge vibrator. I made sure I wouldn't fall and hurt myself then I leaned all the way forward, crossing my arms on the dashboard and resting my forehead on them as I began to hump up and down on my gear shift. My belly pressing the radio buttons on and off since the gear shift is that close to the control panel and all I cared about is the rolling "O" that is creeping up on me and then it hit me. So hard, at first, that I thought I was going to clamp down on the gear shift and end up having to call EMS to help me, but almost as soon as I tensed up, I relaxed again and I slid upwards and off the gear shift to fall backwards and over into the passenger seat. I quickly dropped my hand to my pussy and felt the most incredible spasms taking place and I was still cumming from fucking my car.

I laid there in my seat for a few minutes, catching my breath and coming down from the "high" and I noticed the clock said 12:45am and I had to be home in 15 minutes, luckily I was maybe 6 or 7 minutes away. I yanked my tank top off, and put my “Henley” back on and began trying to wiggle my skirt off before I realized, I'd never get those jeans back on sitting in the car. I jumped out of the car, and with my door still open, let my skirt fall to the ground, standing there almost completely nude, wearing only my shirt. I leaned in, grabbed my panties and dropped my jeans on the seat, slipped my panties on real quick, grabbed my jeans and shoved my legs down inside them. I tossed my shoes on the ground, and stepped into them and reaching down to pull the straps up over my heels and across the backs of my ankles. I could still feel my panties getting wet and was afraid I'd soak through my jeans before I got home but I made it, safely and soundly. I walked in and Mom and Dad were already in bed and I went to the kitchen for a spoon and with my ice cream, headed upstairs to my bedroom. As I hit the first creaky step in the staircase, I heard my parents yell “Goodnight” from their bedroom downstairs. I stepped into my room, kicked my shoes and jeans off, then stepped across to the bathroom, that I shared with my brother for years, to pee and wipe my fluids from my inner thighs. I threw my panties in the sink to rinse them and let them dry before putting them in the laundry. I stepped out of the bathroom, into my bedroom, then pulled my shirt off and tossed it in the chair. jumped up on my bed where my big old pup Franklin was waiting to share my Ice Cream.

-Abbie

[luckylq48-blog]

The bodes well for Cowboys fans

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[plumppeachprincess]

Okay so like! I used to do poetry sorta things to vent and also to be gay and while my bf is at work and I’m Geared Up I’m gonna do smth gay and it isn’t going to be v poetic it’s just v ranty and Imma put ti under a cut cause ew PDA but also like. Yeah.

3:12 PM 1/2/20

‘Honey you're familiar like my mirror years ago Idealism sits prison, chivalry fell on it's sword Innocence died screaming, honey ask me I should know I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door’

From Eden - Hozier

I can’t get over the fact that this man, when I was upset, didn’t ask me if I needed help and didn’t ask if there was anyway he Could help, instead he’s learned from the past that I will say no and try to deal with it myself. No! This man just immediately went okay I’m going to do this thing bc when you do it it cheers me up so Imma do it and VOILA I immediately was feeling loads better! From him tagging me and sending me things I was interested in like fucking Hello Kitty or just colors that reminded him of me.

I think this is one of the signs throughout our time together that just reminds me how different he is? I know this may sound...sad, but like, everytime I’ve entered a relationship before this one it was sorta kinda more like Pressured feeling.

Like okay I guess if I say no we’ll be awkward and no longer friends so Imma say yes bc ur super nice and it could be nice! Not to mention every other relationship has immediately been sexual and as I’ve gotten older I’ve noticed that there’s this pressure on myself to be sexual because I grew up, uh, very hurt and abused in that manner so I associated that immediately with Love. Like in my brain clearly you did not think I loved you unless we had sex, right?

My love is very...he’s very different- he understands when I said that that it made sense to him? I don’t know, I can’t even make sense of it myself, but he understands and that means the world to me.

Also! Me being concerned about my childish interests! I’ve always had to be the ‘adult’ and ‘the mother’ in a relationship and always kinda held any of how I felt more childishly back. Hell even a lot of my emotions had to be held back for the sake of others but...

I can just talk to him! TALK to him! He doesn’t immediately get angry if I say something, he doesn’t get upset if I’m upset and feels he needs to shut me down, no! He listens and he talks to me like a fucking adult and we can work out what a problem may be before it gets big or we can talk about our interests with Fun teasing and not Genuine teasing!

Like his thing? Titanic! History! Video game lore! And ofc I’ll tease him and poke at him the same way he does with me liking like fucking clown figurines or Hello Kitty!

He’s also incredibly sweet. INCREDIBLY sweet. Even if I’m upset over something irrational he reminds me that I’m still upset over something and THAT isn’t irrational, my feelings, and we’ll talk about it and gently shift conversations if I need a distraction from it or we’ll talk about it. Gosh I went off about the beauty community the other day and he was perfectly ready to engage in conversation- he didn’t have to, he could have just said yeah uhuh mhm and called it good.

I haven’t had a love like this before. Because when people used to say your loved one is your best friend, I tried to shift it into that. Hell, my last relationship was me struggling TO make it like that and only ending up with someone who wanted it to be Perfect. No arguments, no being upset, no Communicating, just have it be perfect without any work.

But with him? We fall perfectly into that category and I can see why my parents have been together as long as they have with their relationship. Because he IS my best friend and my sweetheart. We can talk from something cute and soft to poking fun at each other for like- idk me liking Minecraft and him playing WOW. Like it’s fun! It’s nice! It’s very loving.

A romance with him is something I’d only ever dreamed of. This sorta happy balance of romantic and adoring, to silly and bantering. I cannot explain how happy I am in this relationship- it’s been 8 months and I haven’t even felt the nervousness I normally get around this time of like ‘am I enough? Is HE enough? Can he handle me?’ 

Bc clearly he can! I just hope he feels the same about me, that I’m doing good enough for him on his down days and his happy days.

Also he’s v cute. Like if you look at me than him there’s no similarities. Ya got him, who is such a pretty boy, no tattoos, no piercings, very boy next door vibes and then I look like I pick him up on Fridays on a motorcycle so we can go to a fucking bar or some shit.

His smile lights up the world and my heart, the way he has different laughs that vary depending on the scenario from high pitched giggles to a deep, throaty laugh. He’s just so silly I love him so much.