#lexus head lights

[witchywithwhiskey]

sweet as honeycrisp

pairing: sugar daddy!ari levinson x sugar baby!female reader

summary: your sugar daddy takes you on an autumn-themed date to the apple orchard, and what starts off as a fun and flirty day unfolds into a meaningful turning point in your relationship.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), established sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, smut, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, piv sex, outdoor sex, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), finger sucking, biting, brief cockwarming, exhibitionism, light bdsm, dirty talk, daddy kink, praise kink, very light degradation, lots of teasing, pet names (darling, honey), aftercare, happy ending, so much fluff

word count: 14.5k

a/n: whew i've been working on this for like two weeks now, and i'm so happy to finally be able to post it!!! i was struggling a bit with the emotional throughline of this fic, and i only decided on it very late in the editing game so if some things don't make sense, just ignore it!!! if you can believe it, i originally just wanted to write about a quickie in the apple orchard and it turned into this 🫣 anyway, i hope y'all enjoy!!!

“Kiss.”

The warm, playful voice of your sugar daddy, Ari Levinson, met your ears as you lowered yourself into the passenger seat of his Lexus, greeting you in the way he always did. When you closed the car door behind you, the sounds of the Manhattan street were silenced, leaving you in the relative quiet with Ari.

Eagerly, you twisted on the sumptuous seat of the expensive car to lean over the center console, brushing a teasing kiss to Ari’s scruffy cheek, your lips grazing the edge of his full beard. His skin was warm and inviting, and you lingered for a moment, breathing in the the familiar scent of Ari’s cologne, smelling of vetiver and leather. 

When you pulled back, Ari’s blue eyes were glittering with a hint of mischief that made your heart thump with excitement, a warmth blooming in your core despite the cool air of the car’s air conditioning brushing your legs. It was a warm September day, the last remnants of summer clinging in the air as if it protested giving up its seat to autumn. 

The thought crossed your mind that if any man looked like the embodiment of summer, it was Ari Levinson. His skin was golden with a perpetual tan, and his brown hair had sun-kissed blond highlights that shimmered in the daylight, though they were dimmed a bit in the shadow of his car. 

Still, as he grinned at you, showing off his pearly whites framed by his dark beard, you couldn’t help but feel like the summer sun had taken a liking to you and sat beside you. When he looked at you like that, with that smile and those blue eyes shining like the sun off the ocean waves, you wondered what it would be like to have his attention all the time—to be more than just the sugar baby he took on occasional dates when he wanted to have fun.

Pushing those bothersome romantic notions aside, you raked your eyes down Ari’s form, noticing that he’d dressed down for your date. He wore a soft denim, long-sleeved button-up over a simple white t-shirt and tailored slacks. Casual loafers and sunglasses perched on top of his head completed the look. Even in such a simple outfit, he looked good. 

“Show me.” 

His voice was a deep rumble that pulsed between your thighs, and you flicked your gaze back up to his face, finding heat in his expression, the same mischievousness in his eyes that’d been there since you got in the car. The corner of Ari’s mouth was curved in a smirk, and you felt another throb of warmth in your core.

Your lips curled at the edges, a wicked smile curving your mouth as the energy in the car crackled around you, spurring your heart to beat a little faster. You knew exactly what Ari wanted you to show him, and you knew it was naughty—but that was part of why you liked spending time with your sugar daddy. 

Ari was always urging you to be a little daring, to do something that made your heart race and your breath come a little faster. He didn’t push you, so much as guide you down the path to depravity, and you followed him willingly. You never felt more alive than when you were with Ari.

So while you smiled at him, you spread your legs on the leather seat of his Lexus, the short skirt of your dress falling between your parting thighs. Ari’s smirk deepened with satisfaction as he watched your movements with rapt attention. Your fingers toyed with the edge of your dress, the fabric having ridden up quite high on your thighs. 

But before you could reveal what was beneath your skirt, you looked away from Ari, and it crashed over you that you sat in a car in the middle of a busy Manhattan street surrounded by other people. There were folks driving in their cars just outside your window and others walking by on the sidewalk beside where Ari was parked. There were even people filling up the buildings that overlooked the street. They were everywhere around you.

“Darling, look at me,” Ari murmured, his tone entreating enough to call your attention back to him. 

You noticed his sparkling eyes had lost some of their mischief when you looked back at him. But the steadiness of his gaze had you relaxing when you hadn’t even realized you’d tensed up, and the corners of your mouth flickered in an uncertain smile.

“Do you trust me?” Ari asked simply. His face was open, no hint of pressure in his tone or voice. 

For a brief moment, you considered his question, then you nodded your head. You watched as warmth flooded into his gaze, and it made you feel a little more sure. 

“Lift your skirt for me, darling,” he implored, his eyes dropping to where your thighs were still spread, the flimsy fabric of your dress barely hiding your core. “Show daddy what you have under your pretty little skirt.”

You gathered every ounce of braveness in your body and pulled up the hem of your skirt. There, nestled between your spread thighs, was your bare pussy. The air in the car seemed to heat by a few degrees when you heard Ari suck in a sharp breath.

It had been Ari’s idea for you to go without panties on your date, and you’d agreed, the idea sending excited thrills through your body. Walking through the halls and the lobby of the Manhattan high-rise you called home, you’d felt like you had a secret that only Ari knew, and it gave you a delicious kind of satisfaction showing your sugar daddy how you’d gone without panties, your pussy fully exposed beneath your dress.

“You have such a pretty cunt, darling,” Ari groaned, his hand sliding up your thigh until the tips of his fingers teased the top of your slit. 

You bit back a gasp and squirmed in your seat, trying to hold your hips back from thrusting into his touch. 

“I never get tired of seeing this pussy, and how wet she gets for me.” 

His fingers spread your lower lips and he brushed ever so gently over the tip of your clit, making you twitch in your seat, your legs shaking with the effort it took not to close them on his hand and trap him against your heated core.

“And the way your thighs tremble for me,” Ari rumbled, pulling away from your quickly dampening slit to grope roughly at your plush softness, his grip possessive in a way your sugar daddy rarely was. 

“Ari.” His name was a breathy exhale, an undercurrent of admonishment in your tone as his touches stoked the blazing fire in your core, making you squirm even more on the seat. A sliver of worry wormed into your mind as you remembered the leather you sat on, which would surely stain if he kept touching you, and you gasped, “The seat.”

Ari only chuckled, the sound cavalier in a way that made butterflies take flight in your belly, but before you could chide him again, his hand was slipping back between your thighs. Ari dragged a finger from the bottom of your slit all the way to the top, flicking your clit and wringing a moan from your lips as your thighs trembled on the seat.

Then he was pulling his hand away, leaving you to drop your skirt to cover yourself, and popping his finger into his mouth. Your sugar daddy made a show of savoring the taste of you, and your head fell back against the headrest. You watched him suck your taste from his skin, your breaths heavy in your chest while Ari’s eyes sparkled with mischief. 

“Mm, sweet as apple pie,” he praised, making heat rush to your face while you shook your head and rolled your eyes—even as your chest warmed at the compliment. Ari was grinning shamelessly at you when he grabbed your face gently and pulled you gently across the car toward him. “C’mere, darling, see how sweet you taste,” he murmured against your lips before kissing you.

The musky flavor of your body made you moan into Ari’s mouth, your sugar daddy devouring every little noise you made while he kissed you thoroughly. You sank into him, reveling in the smooth glide of his lips and the possessive exploration of his tongue. Your fingers curled around the collar of his denim shirt and you clung to him, feeling the edge of something more in the way he kissed you. It left you breathless when you finally pulled away.

You fell back into your seat with a soft “oomph,” the breath rushing from your lungs when you looked into Ari’s eyes. His blue gaze was softer than you’d ever seen it, and there was something in depths of his eyes that you couldn’t quite place—affection or fondness maybe. 

A small, uncertain smile curled your lips, your heart thumping in your chest as you wondered if that’s how Ari looked at someone he truly cared about. Someone special to him, who had a more permanent place in his life than the sugar baby he called when he wanted to have some no-strings-attached fun. 

For the briefest of moments, you could pretend Ari was more than your sugar daddy, and you were more than his sugar baby. 

But then the moment ended, and Ari cleared his throat as he looked away, focusing on the wheel and gear shift of his car to put it in drive. A silent sigh of disappointment gusted from you, and you turned toward the passenger side window, intent on watching the city fly by once Ari eased into traffic.

To your surprise, Ari’s hand slipped into one of yours, his palm pressing against yours while he laced your fingers together. Your breath hitched with uncertainty even as the corners of your mouth flickered in a smile. It took you a moment to get used to the feeling of his hand in yours, turning it over to trace the veins on the back gently while he maneuvered his Lexus through the Manhattan streets.

It had only been a few months since you’d started seeing Ari, and while his touches were often greedy when you were fooling around, he hadn’t been prone to physical displays of affection since the first few dates you went on with him. Back then, he’d reached for your hand a few times, but after a point he’d stopped.

Truthfully, it had been a relief. One of your greatest fears was falling for a sugar daddy who didn’t return your feelings, and considering how handsome Ari was, you’d known it was a serious risk getting into a relationship with him. But he’d been so charming and carefree, you didn’t think it would be a problem to keep your heart out of things. He didn’t seem like he was looking for anything serious anyway.

So you’d focused on having fun, and that had been easy. Ari took you to expensive restaurants with delicious food in New York City, or he’d fly you somewhere else if he was itching to get away for a little bit. During meals, you’d chat about trivial things, then fall into bed together as soon as you were back in whatever hotel room Ari had booked for the night. 

You didn’t quite know why your conversations didn’t go deeper than the shallow things you talked about, but you didn’t question it. It made everything so much easier if you didn’t truly know Ari—if he didn’t know you either. So you just stuck to safe topics, like planning dates and having sex. 

Your relationship with Ari was a nice change of pace for you. He was far from your first sugar daddy, and you’d learned some hard lessons in your past relationships. Too often, sugar daddies wanted to know things you weren’t comfortable sharing, but Ari had never pried. He’d set boundaries and didn’t push them. You were grateful for that.

But another part of you, a part that started off small and was growing with every date you went on with Ari, yearned to know more about your sugar daddy. You wanted to know what he liked to do when he wasn’t working or taking you on dates. You wanted to know if he had any family, if he celebrated the holidays with them. You wanted to know if he’d ever had his heart broken. 

Tamping down on those curious thoughts, you focused on the present—the music that was playing gently in the car, and the scenery passing by your window. The skyscrapers and high-rises of Manhattan had given way to the tightly-packed homes of the suburbs. 

Biting your tongue against all the questions you wanted to ask, not even sure how you’d begin to try to get to know your sugar daddy better—let alone whether it was a good idea—you sat in silence with Ari. The suburbs eventually gave way to the lush forests and hilly countryside of the Hudson Valley, giving you something prettier to look at.

It was too early in September for the leaves to be changing yet, but there were glimpses of golden yellows and warm oranges among the green foliage. A hint of what was to come. Autumn was inevitable and you found comfort in the changing seasons. 

Cozy weather was right around the corner, and you couldn’t wait for it. Hot apple cider and pumpkin pie, butterscotch cookies and mulled wine—you were a glutton for all the food and beverages associated with the autumn months. And you liked to make them yourself from scratch whenever possible. 

It was part of the reason you’d wanted Ari to take you apple picking, though he didn’t know that. He’d just accepted the request and planned the date. 

After a little while more of driving, Ari pulled off the paved road and onto a dirt track. There was a sign for Brothers’ Apple Orchard fixed to a worn, wooden fence, though dense trees hid the farm from view. 

A little ways down the dirt road, the trees opened up into a large parking lot that was already packed with families and groups of friends going apple picking on the warm September afternoon. The sight and sounds of all the people had nerves twisting in your stomach, and you wondered if it had been a smart idea to go without panties to a place that was meant for wholesome fun.

You’d long since learned that Ari had an exhibitionist streak, and that day wasn’t the first time he’d told you to show up to one of your dates without panties. You’d always enjoyed the excitement in the inherent risk of wearing a dress without anything underneath, but he’d never taken you somewhere with so many families before. The consequences of getting caught seemed so much worse than they ever had before.

Ari must’ve felt your fingers tense in his because he gave you a comforting squeeze as he pulled his Lexus into an empty space and put the car in park. Once done, he looked to you, his smile faltering when he took in the way your brows were pinched and the corners of your mouth were turned down in an uncertain frown.

“Do you trust me, darling?” Ari asked, cupping your face and leaning across the car’s console to press his forehead to yours. His thumb stroked gently over your cheek, matching the sweeping of his other thumb against the back of your hand. 

You were quiet for a moment, nibbling on your lower lip as you thought about his question—really thought about it.

It weighed on you a little that you didn’t know Ari very well, especially since a part of you desperately wanted to, but that didn’t mean you didn’t know his character. Ari had never pushed you to do something you didn’t want to do, and he always checked in with you when you were together, making sure you were comfortable and having fun. So while you didn’t know his favorite color, you did trust him. 

Exhaling slowly, you nodded, your forehead shifting against Ari’s. “I trust you, Ari,” you said, your voice little more than a whisper, like you were telling him a secret in the privacy afforded by the enclosed space of his car. 

To your surprise, Ari sighed in relief at your words, the exhale so short and quiet, you wondered if you’d heard correctly. But you didn’t have time to analyze it because Ari was pressing a quick kiss to your lips and then pulling back to open his door and step out into the September sunshine.

You watched as Ari rounded the front of the Lexus, a charming grin on his face as he winked at you over the hood of his car. It was only because you were alone that you allowed yourself a silly little giggle, your mouth spreading across your face in a wide smile. He opened your door and offered you a hand to help you out.

“Careful, darling, wouldn’t want to give anyone a free show,” Ari murmured teasingly while you slid your hand into his, feeling the roughness of his palm against the pads of your fingertips. 

A zing of thrill went straight to your core at his words, joining the sparks you felt when you touched him. The fingers of your other hand played with the hem of your dress as you stepped one foot out of the car. You darted a look around, finding you had some relative privacy between Ari’s Lexus and the next car over, and pretended to rearrange your skirt. 

In reality, you flashed your bare slit for your sugar daddy, biting your lip and ducking your head when you heard his sharp inhale. Ari made a low, tortured sound and squeezed your fingers, practically pulling you out of the car before pinning you against the side.

“Naughty girl,” Ari growled in your ear, pressing his big body against yours so you were trapped between his hard muscles and the warm metal of the Lexus at your back. “You’re going to get us in trouble if you keep flashing that pretty pussy at me, darling.” 

A breathless, disbelieving laugh gusted past your lips before you could stop it, even as your head went a little fuzzy from the familiar scent of Ari’s cologne filling your senses. It felt like the vetiver and leather on his skin was embedded in your mind as a reminder of all the pleasure he’d given you, and with his body pressed against yours, it took you a moment to respond.

“You’re the one who told me not to wear panties to our apple picking date, daddy,” you reminded him, gripping the soft cotton of Ari’s t-shirt beneath his denim shirt, your fingers brushing against the sides of his tapered waist. You pushed yourself up onto your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, brushing your body against his firm form enticingly while your lips grazed along his scruffy cheek. “Maybe you shouldn’t have done that if you didn’t want me to show you my achy, needy cunt.”

A low growl rumbled in Ari’s chest and he pressed you harder against the side of his car, his body impossibly warm and hard through the thin fabric of your dress. You could feel every firm line of him against your soft curves, including the thick bulge digging into your stomach. 

Then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, Ari’s hands skimmed down your sides and dove beneath the hem of your skirt, palming your ass and kneading your soft flesh with firm, possessive fingers.

“Darling, if you keep saying such filthy things, you’re gonna end up in the back of my car with my cock buried in your achy, needy cunt,” he purred, a threat in his tone that he punctuated by nipping at your ear, making you gasp and arch into him, pressing your tits against his solid chest. “You’re gonna get us banned from the orchard because you won’t be able to stop screaming while I pound your pussy—is that what you want?”

It was on the tip of your tongue to say yes. 

In the short time since you’d stepped out of the car, Ari had you feeling wet and aching and empty. Warmth flooded your body that had nothing to do with the sun shining brightly above your heads, and you wanted badly for Ari to free his cock from his slacks and slide it inside you.

But then the shrieking laughter of children punctured the bubble of lust surrounding you, and you remembered exactly where you were. Shaking your head, you dropped your gaze to the edge of Ari’s jaw while you sucked in a deep breath, focusing on the fresh air beyond the scent of your sugar daddy’s cologne. 

Ari’s big body eased back, giving you more room to breathe and you ignored the pang of disappointment at the loss of him. Instead, you let the crisp autumn breeze brushing against your cheeks and dancing between your thighs cool you down. 

After giving you a moment, Ari curled a finger beneath your chin and tipped your face up to look at him. His brows were lowered and his eyes looked at you questioningly.

“Do you still want to go apple picking?” he asked softly, planting his other hand on the hood of his car, as if he needed to force himself not to touch you so you could answer his question. The thought made you smile, and his eyes dropped to your lips, his thumb brushing quickly over the bottom one. 

“I do,” you said in a light, breathless voice, a smile teasing around the edges of your mouth. On a whim, you nipped at Ari’s thumb, giving him a smirk when his eyes darkened. “If you think you can keep it in your pants until later, daddy,” you taunted him, pushing your hips forward so his bulge pressed into your belly.

“You’re such fucking trouble,” Ari growled before his mouth captured yours in a searing kiss. One of his hands grabbed your waist, pulling you into him while the other cradled your head gently, holding you exactly where he wanted you while he devoured your mouth, his tongue sweeping possessively past your lips until you were moaning softly into him.

A loud, clearing throat had you finally breaking apart. Both you and Ari turned your heads toward the sound, finding a blonde woman raising an eyebrow at the two of you before cutting her eyes pointedly to the children beside her. Your cheeks heated and you buried your face in Ari’s neck to muffle a cackling laugh. 

“Apologies, ma’am,” Ari called gruffly, raising a hand in a repentant wave. 

The woman huffed and rolled her eyes, which only made you laugh harder, pressing your face deeper into the warm curve of Ari’s shoulder as you tried to stay quiet. When the woman and her family were finally gone, you leaned back, giving Ari a cheeky grin. 

“Think she’s gonna complain about us and get us banned?” you asked teasingly, sliding your hands up Ari’s chest until they rested on his shoulders, trying not to think about how easy it was to touch your sugar daddy so casually. “Tell them we were acting indecently in the parking lot?”

Ari laughed, chucking you under your chin gently before ducking down for a quick kiss. “If she does, I’ll just buy the farm,” Ari murmured against your mouth. “They can’t ban us if I own them.”

Your breath caught in your lungs at Ari’s pronouncement, surprise making your heart leap in your chest. Your sugar daddy had bought you plenty of expensive gifts since you’d started seeing him, but buying a farm so you could go apple picking in peace was on another level entirely. You had to wonder if Ari was serious, but the look in his eye was genuine when he pulled back. 

“Don’t give me that look, darling,” he rumbled, his heated gaze raking over your face, taking in your wide eyes and parted lips. His thumb stroked over your bottom lip, pulling on it ever so slightly to the side, sending a little thrill through your body. “Or we aren’t making it into the orchard.”

You closed your mouth, swallowing thickly and bobbed your head in a nod. Then, you slid away from Ari, slipping from between his big body and the car and taking a deep, steadying breath.

Even with the warm September sun shining down on your shoulders, you felt a little cold without Ari’s heat and shivered. But you told yourself you were being ridiculous, shaking off the shiver and turning back to your sugar daddy.

Ari was standing with both hands planted on the hood of the car, his head hanging between them while he took deep breaths. He must’ve felt your attention on him because he lifted his head and gave you a charming smile. 

“Just gimme a sec, darling,” he said, shooting you a wink before he straightened and dropped his hands to the bulge in his slacks. 

You tried not to ogle your sugar daddy as he adjusted himself to make his hard length less prominent in his pants, but you knew what was hiding beneath his clothes and you knew how good his cock felt sliding inside you.

A sizzling, delicious warmth cascaded through your body, and you let yourself watch Ari’s big hands adjusting his bulge for a moment before tearing your eyes away and taking deep breaths of the fresh air to clear your head as much as possible.

A moment later, Ari slung his arm around your shoulders and together the two of you walked toward the entrance to the orchard.

It took effort, but you managed not to look down at the front of his pants, sure that if you did, neither of you would make it any further. And you did want to go apple picking. You had so many things you wanted to bake with the apples you were going to pick. 

Keeping your chin up and your gaze forward, you and Ari walked to the small, squat red building that served as the entryway to the orchard. One side was for folks heading into the field of apple trees, and you joined the line while scrutinizing the size of baskets and crates you could get for picking. 

Ari let you choose the size, and you picked a decent size wooden basket, thinking that would give you plenty of apples to use for baking. A farm worker explained that your apples would be weighed when you were done, and you paid per pound. Then they handed Ari a map that specified where each apple variety could be found, and the two of you were set free into the orchard. 

“What kind of apples are we picking today?” Ari asked, peering at the paper in his hand while he snagged the basket from you. 

You leaned into his side so you could read the map, and pointed when you found what you wanted. “Honeycrisp, honeycrisp!” you chanted, letting your excitement overtake you. 

Ari chuckled, folding the map and tucking it into his pocket before giving you one of his charming grins. “Honeycrisp it is, honeycrisp,” he teased, smoothing his hand down your arm to lace his fingers with yours before he began walking into the orchard.

A shiver of delight raced down your spine at Ari’s gentle, familiar touch and the sweet new nickname. He’d only ever called you ‘darling’ before, and while you liked the pet name, ‘honeycrisp’ made you feel closer to your sugar daddy because it was meant for only you. It was something people in a real romantic relationship did, wasn’t it?

Your feet stumbled a little before you fell into step beside Ari. Out of the corner of your eye, you looked up at him consideringly, wondering—not for the first time—what he thought of you. If he thought you were someone worth caring about—if he thought of you at all when you weren’t together. 

Your sugar daddy flashed an easy smile at you, and you couldn’t help but return the gesture, even as you thought about how difficult he was to read. He was always charming and easygoing, and it made it hard to figure out what he was really thinking, let alone what he was really feeling.

You did your best to push those pondering thoughts from your mind and simply enjoy the walk through the orchard with Ari. You reminded yourself that he’d made it clear he just wanted to have fun with you, so that’s what you were determined to do: Enjoy the warm day and pick some apples with your handsome sugar daddy.

The honeycrisp section of the orchard ended up being quite busy, with families and groups of friends forming small crowds around all the trees closest to the entrance of the field. You paused for a moment, your face falling in a small frown.

Ari must’ve seen your expression because he tugged on your hand and led you past the crowds, strolling down a long row of apple trees to go deeper into the orchard. The excited chatter of other people faded until you could barely hear them and the farm grew peaceful. Finally, you came to the edge of the orchard, and Ari pulled you to a stop at the end of a row of honeycrisp trees. 

“Wow, that’s a lot of apples,” you said, peering up at the trees around you. They were bigger and taller than the ones you’d passed that were being picked over by the crowds. Their branches were practically bursting with ripe, red apples, the color swirling with yellow and green as it often did with that particular variety. 

It seemed no one else had thought to escape the crowds and venture deeper into the orchard, because you couldn’t hear anyone else around. It was just you, your sugar daddy and the apple trees. 

It was so perfect you couldn’t stifle the beaming grin that spread across your face.

“Should I go back for another basket—or a crate?” Ari asked, a grin in his tone. 

When you finally tore your eyes away from the trees and their bounty, you found him staring at you, something like fondness in his gaze. It struck you that Ari had no idea why you wanted apples—you’d never told him you liked to bake or what you planned to do with the ones you picked—but he’d planned the date and was offering to help you pick as many apples as you wanted. 

A warmth started in your chest, feeling as though it were wrapping around your heart and filling you up with a dizzying amount of sunshine, until your ribs were nearly bursting with it. Your cheeks felt warm, and your face ached a little from how wide you were smiling. 

When you realized that you were staring back at Ari with just as much, if not more, affection than was in his gaze, you tried to tamp it down, forcing yourself to scoff lightly at his question. 

“I think one will be plenty,” you said dryly, turning back to the trees and trying to calculate how many apples would fit into the basket Ari carried. Would it be enough for the apple crisp cheesecake recipe you’d been dying to try? You decided it would have to be. 

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, honeycrisp?” Ari asked softly, curling a finger beneath your chin and tipping your face to look up at him. He eased your bodies toward each other and your arms wrapped naturally around his waist. 

It wasn’t until you’d pressed your hands to Ari’s back, your hands settling against the solid muscle of him, that you even realized what you were doing. When you did, you froze, feeling a little spooked by how easy it was becoming to sink into Ari’s casual touches and return them. It felt like there was a growing intimacy between the two of you, and you didn’t know quite yet how you felt about it. 

“Honeycrisp?” you asked, latching on to the one thing you could think to say that would delay you needing to answer Ari’s question. 

He’d never asked you what you were thinking before. When he checked in with you, his questions were always more direct, and more specific about what you were doing. You didn’t know if he really wanted to know, so you hoped a distraction might work.

Ari’s grin turned a little mischievous, like he knew what you were doing, and he wrapped his arms around you, hauling you up against his large, firm body. He ducked his head and nudged your nose with his, tickling your cheek with his beard until you laughed softly into his scruff.

“It fits, doesn’t it?” he asked in a low, rumbly voice that sent warmth dancing through your body. “You’re sweet as honey and as delicious as an apple crisp.” He kissed your lower lip, sucking on its plumpness with a slow, deliberate drag that had you nearly moaning into his mouth.

“Yeah, I like it,” you murmured when he released your lip, your voice obscenely breathy as your eyes fluttered open. You couldn’t remember closing them. Being so close to Ari, having his arms around you and his lips on you, was rattling your brain a little.

“Now, darling honeycrisp, tell daddy what had you thinking so hard about those apples,” Ari rumbled, his voice sweetly coaxing as he brushed butterfly kisses along your jaw. His lips were soft and his beard was coarse, and the contrast of the sensations had you sighing softly and melting further into his arms. “Unless you don’t want to tell me?”

There was a thread of uncertainty in Ari’s tone as he voiced the question, like he wasn’t sure if he was pushing too hard by asking you to tell him what you’d been thinking about. 

It was so different to how other sugar daddies—other men in general—had treated you. They’d always demanded you tell them whatever they wanted to know, as if they had a right to every part of you. 

But Ari wasn’t like that. He’d never been like that, and it didn’t surprise you that the first time he asked something even remotely personal, he was still giving you the opportunity to sidestep the question if you didn’t want to answer. It made you want to tell him all the more.

“I was thinking about what I want to bake with the apples we pick,” you answered, a smile teasing around the edges of your mouth. “And trying to make sure one basket would be enough.”

Ari brushed a kiss to the apple of your cheek, as if thanking you for telling him. Pulling back a bit so he could look at you, he tilted his head to the side in curiosity.

“You like to bake?”

You felt a little shy in the moment, ducking your head under the weight of his sparkling blue eyes, and nodded. “Yeah,” you said shrugging as if it was no big deal. Then, when Ari didn’t reply right away, you went on, filling the silence by answering a question he hadn’t asked. “I don’t usually tell sugar daddies—the one time I did, he got weird.”

Biting your lip to stem the flow of words from your mouth, you winced. You weren’t sure if Ari had known you’d had other sugar daddies before him, but it felt awkward to acknowledge the fact even if you weren’t ashamed of it. Besides, something inside you rebelled against the idea of lumping Ari in with all your other sugar daddies—he truly wasn’t like anyone else you’d been with. 

“Weird how?” Ari asked in a tone gentler than any you’d heard him use before. One of his hands cupped the back of your neck, but he didn’t try to make you look at him, just stroked your skin with his thumb. The gesture was so profoundly comforting that you lay your head on his shoulder and gave a sigh of relief. 

“Once he knew I liked to bake, he expected me to bake for him,” you explained slowly, choosing your words carefully. “But not just bake—he bought me an apron and skimpy little dresses to wear underneath it with these ridiculous heels. He wanted me to bake for him and…service him.” 

You pressed your face into Ari’s shoulder, remembering the experience and cringing over what you’d let that man talk you into. He was a major reason you appreciated Ari’s boundaries so much. You felt safer, like things couldn’t spiral out of your control, with the boundaries your sugar daddy had set in place.

After you’d answered his question, Ari stayed quiet, just holding you, his thumb stroking soothingly over the back of your neck. His big arms felt so steady around you that you couldn’t help but take comfort in them, and you went on, feeling safe enough to tell Ari the rest.

“He took all the joy out of baking,” you said in a small voice. “I stopped seeing him soon after, but he wasn’t happy about it.”

Ari exhaled a sharp breath and he squeezed you in his arms, holding you tight for a long moment before he eased up a little. 

“Thank you for telling me,” he murmured, brushing a kiss to your forehead. “I would love to try your baking, but only if you want—hell, you can come over today and use my kitchen and bake in one of my shirts if you want.”

A relieved laugh gusted out of you, and you were so glad Ari understood that it took you a moment to realize he’d invited you to his apartment. 

You’d never seen where he lived—and even though he paid for it, he’d never been inside your apartment either. Ari had always gotten hotel rooms, even for dates in in the city. 

You hadn’t thought much about it beyond appreciating the fact that Ari didn’t act entitled to be in your space because he paid for it. But now he was inviting you to his apartment, his space, and you didn’t know what to make of it.

Pulling back, you gave him a curious look. 

“Are you sure?”

Ari leveled you with a look of his own, and though his gaze was serious, there was a hint of amusement in the curve of his mouth. “Are you sure?” he countered, his voice going low and rumbly as he went on. “If you start baking in my kitchen wearing only my shirt, there’s a very good chance I’ll eat more of you than whatever you make.” He raised his eyebrows, as if to drive home the lewd insinuation of his statement. 

But despite his dirty warning—or perhaps because of it—you only warmed to the idea of baking in Ari’s apartment. It sounded fun in a way it hadn’t been with your past sugar daddy and you bounced on the balls of your feet as excitement flooded through you. 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, daddy,” you sassed, shifting your arms to wind around Ari’s neck. You used your hold on him to keep your balance as you pushed up onto your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his scruffy cheek. “I already know what I want to make.”

Ari chuckled, giving you a quick kiss before pulling out his phone and telling you to pull up the recipe so that he could forward it to his assistant to make sure his apartment had everything you’d need. You did as he asked and handed his phone back to him, watching for his reaction to the recipe you’d chosen.

To your delight, Ari groaned like he was being tortured, his thumb flicking over the screen as he scrolled through the recipe to look at all the pictures.

“You’re gonna make this?” he asked, before reading out the title, “An Apple crisp cheesecake?” He made another agonized sound before looking to you for confirmation.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction, knowing he was excited despite the miserable noises he was making, and nodded eagerly to answer his question.

Ari shook his head with a disbelieving look on his face and tapped out a message on his phone before pocketing it again. Then he grabbed you around the waist and hauled you against him again.

“You’re trouble for my pants, honeycrisp,” he muttered, dropping a too-brief kiss to your lips. “First you make me hard enough I feel like I’m gonna pop my zipper.” He trailed kisses along your jaw and down your neck in between his words, his mouth and beard tickling your skin while you melted into his arms. “Next you’re gonna fill me up with apple crisp cheesecake until my button breaks.” 

You made a sound that was half-laugh, half-moan as you tipped your head to the side, giving him more access to nip and lick at your neck while you clung to his shoulders, your knees going weak from your sugar daddy’s attention. 

“You don’t need to eat that much cheesecake, Ari,” you wheezed in between bouts of laughter, giggling harder when he nipped playfully at your ear.

“If it’s as delicious as you, I don’t know how I’ll be able to stop myself,” he flirted, kissing the spot just beneath your ear that had you shivering in his arms. 

“Ari,” you said his name on a breathy exhale, and it was a good thing his lips captured yours in a searing kiss, because you didn’t have any hope of responding to his compliment. Instead, you showed him how much you appreciated it by kissing him back hard, your fingers tangling in his soft brown hair as you clung to your sugar daddy and made out in the apple orchard.

By the time Ari pulled away to let you get some air, you were breathless and happier than you’d been in a long time. To your own surprise, you felt good about opening up to Ari and telling him about your past bad experience. He’d made you feel heard and cared for, all while giving you reason to believe he’d never do anything like that to you. He made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t with any of your other sugar daddies. 

Because of all that, you were actually excited to finally see his apartment. It felt like an important step, the beginning of something new, perhaps something deeper, and though there was an undercurrent of anxiety in your belly, you were more excited than anything else. 

And if you weren’t mistaken, Ari looked excited, too. His eyes were looking at you with affection in their depths, and his mouth was curved into a genuine smile. 

As he grinned down at you, Ari let his hands slide down from your lower back to your ass, groping you through your dress before swatting the soft cheeks lightly. 

“Alright, honeycrisp, these apples won’t pick themselves,” he teased good-naturedly. “And I’ve got a craving for some apple crisp cheesecake now.” He waggled his eyebrows at you, making you laugh.

But you forced a serious expression onto your face and gave him a mocking salute. “Yes, sir,” you said in a deeper voice, trying to tamp down on the smile that wanted to break free.

You lost the battle when Ari gave a loud laugh, his head tipping back and the sun shining down on his golden face while he gave into your silliness. He recovered quickly, though, looking back down at you fondly as he rumbled, “That’s ‘yes, daddy’, to you, honeycrisp.” Then he slapped your ass a little harder to urge you to get a move on before he finally, reluctantly, pulled away and turned in the direction of the apple trees.

To ease some of the disappointment you both felt, Ari gave you a salacious wink that had your cheeks warming again. You couldn’t even blame the September sun on the heat in your face. Your sugar daddy was just so hot, it was hardly even fair.

To distract yourself from wanting to curl up in Ari’s arms and say to hell with apple picking, you snatched up the basket he’d dropped, arching your back and popping your ass to give him a peek at your pussy, then straightened and skipped to the nearest apple tree to start picking. 

When you chanced a glance over your shoulder, you saw Ari’s eyes were heated and staring at the way your skirt fluttered around your ass, his big hand palming his bulge in his pants. You wiggled your ass for him, turning back around to hide your laughter when his long-suffering groan met your ears. 

But you couldn’t keep your eyes off Ari and you turned your head to watch him out of the corner of your eye, catching him swiping a hand down over his face while he shook his head. Something about the gesture sent your heart pitter-pattering in your chest—which only got worse when Ari caught you looking and winked while he adjusted himself in his pants.

You felt giddy as you refocused on the tree in front of you, your breaths coming in soft little gasps as excitement and desire swirled in your core. It took you a long moment to gather your thoughts and remind yourself that you could not jump your sugar daddy in the middle of an apple orchard that was open to the public—no matter how much you desperately wanted to. 

With slightly shaking fingers, you began to pick apples, doing your best to pay attention to what you were doing and make sure you were selecting the best fruit you could find. If Ari was going to try your baking for the first time, you wanted your apple crisp cheesecake to be the best that it could possibly be. 

Ari came to stand beside you, and though you wanted him to put his hands on you, you were happy to see him dedicate himself to the task of picking apples, even reaching up to the branches that were too high for you. In turn, you showed Ari how to check for bruises and other unwanted things in the fruit before adding them to the basket at your feet.

Between the two of you picking apples, it wasn’t long before the basket was nearly overflowing, but you were having so much fun, you didn’t want it to end. So when Ari asked if you still needed more, you gave him a shy smile and said just a few. You didn’t want him to go get another basket—because, really, you didn’t need that many apples—but you didn’t want the apple picking part of your date to end just yet.

Your sugar daddy seemed to understand your desire to linger because he didn’t call you out on the fact that your basket could barely hold any more apples. Instead, he flashed you an indulgent grin and nodded, joining you under the apple tree where you’d been picking. 

But rather than moving beside you, as he’d stood while you’d worked together, he came up behind you so that his chest was brushing against your back. His hands settled lightly on your waist, loosely caging you in beneath the apple tree with your body facing the trunk. 

He ducked down so his scruffy, bearded cheek was pressed to yours and pointed to a cluster of apples just out of your reach. “Why don’t you grab one of those?” he suggested, the practiced innocence in his tone nearly making you snort with laughter. 

You knew Ari was playing a game, you could feel it in the mischievous tension crackling in the air, and you were almost certain it would lead to some sort of naughtiness in the orchard. But your body was wound tight, and you wanted to get up to a little mischief with your sugar daddy, so you decided to play along. 

“I can’t reach, daddy,” you simpered, proving your point by reaching your hand up to show that the apples were too high up, your fingertips only barely grazing the fruit. You used the movement to deliberately push your ass back into Ari’s lap and you had to smother a giggle when you felt the hard ridge of him in his pants.

“Let me help, honeycrisp,” Ari rumbled, and though you couldn’t see his grin, you knew it was there by the warmth in his voice. You bit your lip against your own wide smile.

Ari’s hand slid down your side, all the way to the back of your thigh, before he gently grabbed your leg behind your knee to lift it until your foot was planted on a low branch. Then he guided your hips deeper into his lap, where you could feel the long, stiff length of his cock wedging between your ass cheeks through your thin dress.

“C’mon, honeycrisp, reach a little bit more,” he urged, tilting your hips and bending his knees so that his hard bulge was pressed against your bare slit. Then he surged forward, lifting you just a little off the ground while he dragged the thick length of his cock against your weeping pussy. 

You fell helplessly against the trunk of the tree, the apples forgotten as a low moan slipped past your lips. Ari teased you with his clothed cock, and your spine arched to bare more of yourself to his hard bulge. Craning your neck to catch Ari’s eye over your shoulder, you gave him a desperate, pleading look. 

“Daddy, please,” you begged on a whine, pushing back into his lap and wiggling your ass side to side to try to entice him into giving you something more. You’d been teasing each other all day, and you were hitting a breaking point. You needed him to give you something.

Ari chuckled, burying his face in the side of your neck, his deep laughter rolling deliciously down your spine and settling between your thighs, until you were pulsing with desire. He curled around your body until he was surrounding you, your smaller form fitting perfectly within the cage of his arms. 

He reached above you and easily plucked the apple he’d directed you to pick from the spot you hadn’t been able to reach and presented it to you. At the same time, his other hand began to wander, groping your soft tits until you moaned prettily again for him. 

“Does it pass your inspection, darling?” he asked, urging you to focus on the apple he held in front of you. 

Truthfully, you didn’t care anymore about picking apples—you had plenty of them in the basket at your feet—but you did your best to look it over. You turned it over in your trembling fingers, checking for bruises and bugs. Finding it to be perfect, you nodded. 

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl,” Ari murmured, taking the apple from your hands and pulling away to set it on top of the pile in your basket. 

You had to bite back a whine at the loss of him, but he was back against you a moment later, his warmth surrounding you as his arms curled around your body. His hands slid up your sides and cupped your tits, kneading them in his big, strong hands until your head fell back against his shoulder and you let out a soft whimper of need.

“Now is that enough apples, honeycrisp?” he asked, a hint of teasing in his tone.

“Yuh huh,” you mumbled, nodding weakly as you arched your spine and pushed your chest into Ari’s hands. He rewarded you by pinching and plucking your nipples through the soft cotton of your dress, wringing a weak whine from your lips. “Plenty.” 

“Good,” Ari rumbled, pressing his face into the side of your neck, his mouth licking and nipping at your skin like you tasted as sweet as the fruit you’d been picking, his rough beard making you shiver in his hold. “Because if I had to see your pretty pussy winking at me from beneath your skirt one more time while you were bending over or reaching for some apples, it was going to drive me fucking wild.”

A low moan slipped free from your lips while one of Ari’s hands skimmed down your front, sliding under the hem  of your dress and cupping you between your thighs. His big hand covered your entire mound, which was sticky with your juices. 

He growled when he felt just how wet you were, the sound reverberating down your spine and making your pussy spasm, more wetness dripping from your slit and into his palm.

“Fuck,” Ari ground out through gritted teeth, his voice rough with his own barely leashed desire. “You’re soaking wet for me, honeycrisp—I gotta feel you,” he said, an urgency in his voice as he sank two fingers into your drenched hole, pulling another moan from you. His hips were grinding his bulge against your ass so hard, you could feel him throbbing. “Gotta feel this tight warm cunt on my cock, ‘m not gonna make it back to the car—need you now.”

“Ari,” you whispered harshly, trying to sound angry, but the two syllables of his name came out dipped in desire and you felt your sugar daddy shudder against your back, his fingers working harder inside your sopping cunt, his palm making soft slapping sounds every time he bottomed out. “We shouldn’t.” 

Despite your weak protest, you rolled your head to the side on Ari’s shoulder, peering through the branches of the tree toward where you’d left the crowds of other apple pickers. They were still so distant you couldn’t hear them over your soft, gasping breaths, but there was no telling when someone might stray from the others. They could stumble upon you at any moment. 

The only protection you had from wandering eyes were the branches of the apple tree. Thankfully, they were close enough and the leaves dense enough that you couldn’t see much beyond Ari’s big body, but if someone came close enough, they’d no doubt hear you or Ari, and then you’d be caught.

“We’re going to get arrested,” you scolded in a hushed tone before turning your head to bury your face in Ari’s beard and stifle the moan on the tip of your tongue. He hadn’t stopped fucking you with his fingers and your reluctance was ebbing from your body just as surely as your desire was leaking into his hand. 

Instead of responding to your statement with the seriousness you felt it deserved, Ari simply chuckled against your cheek and used his thumb to circle your clit, making your hips jerk into his hand, your body wordlessly begging him for more while you muffled a whine into the underside of his jaw. 

“We’ll be fine, honeycrisp,” Ari soothed in a placating tone that made you growl like a feral kitten into his throat, so he switched tactics, his voice going low and rough. “Don’t you wanna feel me, honey?” He asked, grinding his hard length into your soft ass until you mewled pathetically. “Don’t you wanna drip your sweet juices all over daddy’s cock like a good girl?” 

It was on the tip of your tongue to give in. You knew you shouldn’t. You knew there was a very real possibility that you could get caught, and it was only your fear of the potential consequences that held your words at bay. But Ari was well acquainted with the fear that held you back, and he knew exactly how to help you break through it. 

“Just the tip,” he murmured, his voice so warm you could hear the smile in it. “Just take the tip, and stay quiet, and we’ll be golden.” He nuzzled your face, his beard rasping over your soft skin and sending tingles of delight all through your body. 

You knew it was a ploy. You knew that Ari knew that you’d never be able to settle for just the tip of his cock—after all, you never had before. But it was easier to pretend you could settle for just the tip than to say yes to Ari fucking you in the middle of the apple orchard when there were people not too far away. It was the small step you needed to break free from your fear.

Lifting your head, you looked around. There was nothing to see except dense branches and leaves and endless apples. Ari’s body hid you entirely from sight, and you still couldn’t hear anyone else close by, so if you stayed quiet, you really could get away with a quickie in the orchard. 

A wicked smile spread across your face and you turned your head to catch Ari’s eye over your shoulder.

“Just the tip?” you asked, you voice laced with suggestion. You knew Ari was going to end up sinking much more of his cock into you, but you wanted to play along for a little bit. “Promise, daddy?” Your question was meant to sound innocent, but you couldn’t help the way the corners of your lips wavered in an eager grin.

Ari chuckled and kissed the corner of your mouth, because he knew exactly what you were doing. “I promise, darling…” he said, trailing off as he pulled his fingers from your pussy with an embarrassingly wet sound that made him grin. “Unless, of course, you beg me like a good girl.” 

“Hurry, daddy,” you cooed, wiggling your ass against Ari’s bulge, a teasing smile on your lips as you watched him over your shoulder. 

Ari’s eyes darkened and then he was using his clean hand to fumble with his belt and fly while he swatted your pussy playfully with his drenched fingers. You gasped and twitched, trying to stay quiet and failing miserably as desperate keening sound slipped from your mouth.

At your urging, Ari wasted no time, shoving his pants open and pulling out his cock, pushing your dress up over your ass and rubbing the tip through your drenched folds. Both of you groaned, Ari’s face falling forward against your shoulder while you grabbed onto the trunk of the tree in front of you, trying to stay upright while your knees trembled. 

Then Ari was pushing inside, the head of his cock sinking into the warmth of your pussy. The stretch of him was too delicious, and you moaned louder than was wise, but you couldn’t help yourself. He felt too good. 

“What’d I say about staying quiet?” Ari rumbled in your ear, right before he shoved his fingers in your mouth. The tart taste of your wetness mixed with apples burst on your tongue and you moaned again, licking wildly at his fingers to get as much of it as you could. “Mm, that’s it, clean up your mess, honeycrisp—show daddy what a good girl you can be.”

Ari’s other hand gripped your hip, holding you steady while he fucked you with just the tip of his cock, pushing into your tight hole and pulling free until the tease of it drove you wild. 

“Mm-oah, mm-oah,” you begged around Ari’s fingers, trying to push back on Ari’s stiff length and take more of him, but he held you still, forcing you to take only what he gave you. You bounced impatiently, the foot that was still lifted on one of the branches shaking it so furiously, the leaves rattled and a few apples dropped to the ground.

“Oh, did you want something, honey?” Ari asked, his tone filled with mocking innocence as he pulled his fingers from your mouth. You shot him a half-hearted glare over your shoulder, pouting. 

“I need more, daddy, please,” you begged, giving him your best desperate, pleading look while you pushed back against his hold, reveling in the way he didn’t let you move to take him further. “Please split me open with your thick cock, daddy—I need it.”

Ari blew out a sharp breath. “Fuck, I wanna tease you some more, but I can’t—need you too bad, honey,” Ari rasped, squeezing your hip while his other arm wrapped loosely around the front of your throat, so the bulge of his bicep was just beneath your chin. 

“Remember, stay quiet.” His hushed words were your only warning before Ari slammed into you, shoving every inch of his hard cock into your wet, needy cunt. 

A scream welled up inside your chest, your mouth dropping open as it clawed its way up your throat, but at the last second before it was set free, you managed to bury your face in Ari’s bicep. Your teeth sank into his warm, golden skin and you bit your sugar daddy while you screamed into his arm. 

His tortured groan was loud, but only because it poured directly into your ear, the sound dripping in pleasure as your inner walls squeezed his hard cock and made room for the thick length of him in the depths of your body.

Bliss consumed you, the stinging edge of Ari pushing inside you so fast and stretching you so suddenly making your body burn all the hotter. Already, your cunt was pulsing around Ari’s cock like you wanted him to stay buried inside you for a long time and you sighed happily, pulling your teeth from your sugar daddy’s arm. 

While Ari gave you a moment to adjust, his hand kneading the plush softness of your hip, you kissed and licked at the indents your teeth had left in his skin. He chuckled, brushing a kiss against your temple, an acceptance of your wordless apology. 

“Ready, honey?” Ari asked softly, nuzzling your cheek while he rolled his hips, grinding his cock into you in a way that had you moaning again. “This is gonna be hard and fast. I can’t—I gotta pound your pretty pussy,” he rumbled, his tone almost apologetic with the urgency in it. “Gotta feel you dripping around me, squeezing me, milking me.”

His hand shifted from your hip to slip between your thighs, his fingers finding your slippery clit and rubbing the puffy pearl. He grunted when you clenched around him, his fingers stroking you harder and winding your pleasure higher while he rolled his hips, fucking you in short, sharp thrusts.

“Fuck, honey, fuck,” he bit out, his breaths heavy in between every word. “Tell me you’re ready for me to move.”

“Please, yes, move,” you cried propping your chin on Ari’s bicep while your nails dug into the trunk of the tree in front of you. You used your grip to brace yourself and push back on Ari’s cock, taking him deeper with every thrust. “Need you, daddy, please, please, please,” you babbled, your voice coming out strained with the effort to keep it quiet.

“Fucking right you need me—just like I need you,” Ari growled, pulling his hips back and slamming forward, driving into you with so much force, you could hear the soft sound of your ass slapping against his thighs. “You have the sweetest, tightest pussy I’ve ever had—best fucking pussy in the world. I dream about it when I’m not with you,” he confessed, his words rough like he’d pulled them from the depths of his soul. “Dream about pumping you full of my come until your belly’s bulging with me, honey.”

Your mind reeled at Ari’s confession even as your body sank deeper into his hold. You were still trying to catch up on processing his words but your pussy was clenching around his cock greedily, as if begging for him to come inside you already. 

In that moment, a singular truth crystalized in your mind: You’d been deluding yourself into thinking you didn’t care for Ari—that he didn’t care for you. It was very clear that Ari did care about you, and you cared about him.

All those boundaries in your relationship, you realized you’d been the one creating them, not Ari. Ari had been patient, chipping away at the walls you’d built around yourself until he’d somehow found his way in. He’d dreamed about you, and you’d thought he was just another sugar daddy looking to have some fun. You’d been so wrong about him.

At the weight of your realization, you nearly collapsed against the tree, but managed to hold yourself up, sobbing with pleasure and emotion. Ari seemed to sense the shift in your mood and he slowed his movements, as if he was going to stop, but you shook your head, feeling feral with your need for him. 

“Please, daddy,” you cried softly, your voice hoarse with the flood of affection filling your heart. It was emphasized by the feeling of Ari inside you, surrounding you, your body cradled in his arms while he fuckd you like he wanted you to never forget the feel of him. “Fill me up, make me your perfect little cumslut, daddy, just keep me—keep me.” 

“Always,” he rasped, his lips at your temple. The promise in that single word buried deep in your heart, taking root. 

Something changed between you and Ari, and you knew he felt it too because he started fucking you faster than before, his hips snapping harder against your ass so he could push deep into your cunt with every thrust.

“Fuck, honey, ‘m almost there, are you close?” he rasped, his tone desperate. 

Your head bobbed in a nod. 

“Uh huh, ‘m close, just need a little more…” you trailed off in a whine, trying to push back on his cock and grind your clit against his stroking fingers at the same time.

Thankfully, Ari understood what you were begging for, and he rubbed you harder, his fingers relentless in his pursuit of your pleasure while he rutted into your cunt.

“C’mon, honey, come on daddy’s cock,” he rumbled in your ear, his voice deliciously deep to match his dirty words and push you closer to the edge. “Be a good little cumslut and milk my cock, make me fill your sweet pussy with all my come, honey.” 

You buried your face into Ari’s bicep again, your teeth sinking into his skin as you screamed your release. Wave after wave of pleasure pulsed through your body, until your limbs were trembling and your fingers were shaking against the outside of Ari’s arm, having forgotten when you’d let go of the tree to cling to him.

With a grunt, Ari’s cock twitched inside you, reacting to the sting of your bite and the merciless grasping of your inner walls around his hard length. His hips stuttered, then he started fucking into you wildly, his thrusts falling out of rhythm while he chased his own release. 

“Good girl, honey, so good, feel so fucking good milking daddy’s cock,” he muttered, cutting off on a deep groan while his cock throbbed inside you.

Ari spilled himself deep in your cunt and you moaned weakly, pulling back from his arm and licking his golden skin to sooth the indents your teeth had left behind. He tasted like salty skin and sweet apples and you hummed in pleasure as you rode out the remainder of your release with your bodies writhing together.

After a few long moments basking in the glorious afterglow of coming together, Ari took a deep breath and shifted his arm, chuckling lowly when you whimpered at the loss of his bicep to lick and kiss. He made it up to you by turning your head and capturing your lips in a sweet kiss, pouring all the affection you finally knew he felt for you into the way his mouth moved against yours. 

When he pulled away, leaving you slightly breathless, Ari leveled you with a serious look. 

“You know you’re special to me, don’t you, honey?” he asked, using the new pet name that you knew was shortened from ‘honeycrisp’. 

You’d been too wrapped up in your own head to notice the way it rolled off his tongue—it was an endearment for someone Ari cared about, someone who was special to him, as he said.

Biting your kiss-swollen lower lip, feeling a little abashed that it had taken you so long to realize what Ari felt for you, you nodded. You could feel your cheeks warming, and tried to duck your head, but Ari only chuckled and caught your lips in another kiss, though it was briefer.

When he’d kissed away your anxiety, Ari set about extricating himself from you, pulling free from your body and helping you down from the tree. He quickly stuffed his softening cock back into his pants and then helped smooth your dress back over your hips before doing up his slacks. You turned to him, brushing his hair back from his face and warming at the way he was smiling down at you. 

Ari had an infectious grin on his face, and you couldn’t help but return it, your heart feeling warm and cozy in your chest. 

The two of you smiled goofily as you helped right each other’s appearances. Once you’d fixed yourselves as much as possible, Ari stooped down to pick up the basket of apples you’d picked, then grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together and planting a kiss on the back of your palm before heading off back to the farm stand.

As you walked past all the crowds of people, you were certain everyone knew what you and Ari had gotten up to in the orchard, but no one stopped or stared or said anything. They were all too focused on their own friends and families and the task of apple picking to notice you and Ari, or your big, silly smiles.

At the farm stand, Ari paid for the apples, then loaded them into his Lexus before helping you into the passenger seat. He dropped a kiss to your forehead, then rounded the front of the car and slid into his own seat.

You were quiet on the drive back to the city, your mind ruminating over the beginning of your relationship with Ari. When you thought back to your first few dates, you realized you’d been the one who was hesitant to answer any personal questions from your sugar daddy—and you’d never asked any of him. You’d also been the one to balk at the idea of either going back to his place or your apartment, leading him to get hotel rooms. 

Ari had been the one to respect your boundaries, even as he’d tried to get to know you better. He’d tried to ask you questions you felt comfortable answering—it was how he’d found out you liked apple picking, because you’d chosen it as a fall-themed date. He’d been so careful with you, it made your heart hurt a little that you’d kept him at arm’s length for so long.

Turning from the scenery of the foliage fading into the cityscape of New York, you ran your eyes over Ari’s profile. His expression was easy, relaxed and open, the hint of a smile on his face. You’d thought he just always looked like that, but you realized it was because he was with you. 

Reaching across the center console, you scooped up Ari’s hand and laced your fingers through his before settling your joined hands on your thigh. He glanced at you, shooting you a quick smile and squeezing your fingers, before turning back to the road.

By the time the car pulled into the underground parking garage of the high-rise on the Upper West Side where Ari lived, you were resolved to try to let your guard down a little more around him. Ari had shown you he could be trusted with your heart just as much as your body, and you were determined to show him you trusted him with all of you. 

Still, it was a little intimidating walking into his apartment for the first time, the anxiety that he was only bringing you there because he wanted something from you—something you didn’t want to give—was a knot in your stomach. But then you looked at Ari and you realized he’d never do that to you. He was bringing you to his home because he wanted to, not because he wanted something from you. 

Ari’s penthouse was warm and cozy, decorated in dark brown wood and warm golden tones, with hints of blue that reminded you of the ocean. You realized you knew Ari was a fan of the beach, because so many of the trips he’d taken you on had been close to the water. Walking into his home felt like walking into a reflection of his heart, and you didn’t take that for granted.

After setting down the apples on a table next to the door and stepping out of your shoes, Ari took you on a tour of his apartment, both the upstairs and the downstairs (because it was big enough to have two floors!). He showed you every room, including his bedroom and his study, tugging you into each by your joined hands when you seemed hesitant to enter his spaces.

Ari left the kitchen for last, but the two of you lingered in the living room, standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked Central Park. Ari wrapped his arms around you from behind, swaying you lightly from side to side, almost like you were dancing. 

“You have a beautiful home, Ari,” you said, looking out over the city and appreciating the way the buildings and treetops were cast in the warm, yellow glow of afternoon sunshine. An errant thought crossed your mind, that you could get used to the view from Ari’s apartment. It was stunning.

“Thank you, honey,” Ari murmured, dropping a kiss to the base of your throat while his arms squeezed you tighter. He buried his face in your neck, so his words were a little muffled when he said, “I always hoped you’d like it enough to want to come over again and… again.”

You could hear in the pause of his words where he’d stopped himself from saying something different, and you wondered over it. But you knew yourself well enough not to ask. If just walking into his apartment felt like a big step, you knew asking him what he’d meant to say might spook you a bit too much, and you didn’t want that. So you just hummed in response.

Ari chuckled, like he somehow knew it was taking effort for you to be in his apartment, and he thought it was cute how difficult it was for you. His mouth trailed up your neck, effectively distracting you from your thoughts, before nipping at the edge of your jaw. 

“Want to see the kitchen now?” 

Nodding so eagerly, you nearly head-butted him, you turned in his hold and looked up at him with expectant eyes. Ari gave you an affectionate smile, then grabbed your hand and led the way to the kitchen.

He’d saved it for last, and when you stepped inside, you understood why. A gasp slipped from your lips as you took in the beautiful space. The color scheme of the apartment carried over to the kitchen, with dark brown cabinets and lighter wood countertops. There was a pop of blue in the backsplash, and all kinds of expensive gadgetry. 

You were so busy taking everything in, it took you a moment to spot the brand-new stand mixer sitting on the counter in a color that matched the rest of the room. Beside it were some of the ingredients you’d need for the apple crisp cheesecake you’d told Ari you wanted to make and you realized his assistant must’ve already come and gone. 

Walking over and running your fingers over the sleek mixer, tears welled up in your eyes. It took effort to blink them away, and you shook your head slightly at yourself. It seemed silly to be crying over a stand mixer, but it felt bigger than that, like it was a sign of Ari making room in his life for you. He wanted you there, he wanted to keep you, like you’d begged him to. 

“Everything ok, honey?” Ari asked, coming to stand behind you, but not touching you, giving you some space while you processed everything you’d realized that day.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice thick, no doubt giving away the emotion you were feeling. Before you could overthink it, you spun around and threw your arms around Ari’s shoulders, launching yourself at him for a tight hug. “You bought a mixer,” you stated, as if that was explanation enough. 

A soft laugh rumbled in Ari’s chest and he swept a hand down your spine, comforting you while a few tears leaked down your cheeks and into the collar of his denim shirt.

“Well, yeah,” he responded good-naturedly, a smile in his voice. “I did say I wanted you to want to come back, didn’t I?” 

“Uh huh,” you mumbled, laughing a little at his comment. Then you murmured, in a small voice, “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Ari said, sounding genuine. 

For a long moment, you hugged him, and then you pulled away, swiping at your cheeks to clear away any tears or makeup. 

“Is the offer still open to bake while wearing only your shirt?” you asked, tipping your head back to smile shyly at Ari while your fingers played with the collar of his button-up.  

A grin spread across his face while shrugged out of the denim shirt. Then, to your surprise, he yanked his t-shirt off over his head, asking you which one you wanted. 

You took the denim one with fumbling fingers, your eyes raking over his bare chest while warmth bloomed deep in your core. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen Ari shirtless, of course, but you never got tired of looking at the expanse of his golden skin, dusted with dark brown hair that you wanted to rake your nails through. 

Ari let you look for a moment, using your distraction to help you slip out of your dress. Then he eased your arms into the denim shirt and buttoned it up, his big hands pausing briefly to grope your soft body every few moments. 

There was a glimmer of deep satisfaction in his blue eyes when he stepped back to look at you in his shirt. 

“Mm, you look so pretty, honey,” he rasped, taking one last look before crowding you into the counter at your back. His gaze darkened as he stared down at you, his grin turning wolfish when he rumbled, “I think I need a snack before you start baking.”

That was your only warning. You shrieked with surprised laughter when Ari hauled you back into the living room and tossed you down on one of his leather couches. Your giggles cut off abruptly in a moan when Ari descended on you, burying his face between your thighs and feasting on you like he was starving.

Your fingers twisted in Ari’s brown hair while he ate your pussy, encouraging you to scream your pleasure in the comfort of his home while he made you come against his mouth. You shattered apart with a loud cry while he fucked you with his tongue, his mouth greedily devouring your release, and the come he’d buried inside you earlier, like he hadn’t eaten in days. 

When he finally pulled away, Ari’s beard was soaked in your juices and he grinned up your body while you lay limply on the couch, your chest heaving as you caught your breath. Chuckling at the sight of you sprawled out on his couch, Ari pressed wet kisses to the inside of your thighs, licking the traces of your release from your skin.

“Fuck, honey, I can’t get enough of you,” he rumbled, his big hands kneading your plush thighs and hips, proving his point since it seemed like he couldn’t stop touching you. The blatant need and desire in his voice sent a shiver racing down your spine.

“If you keep going, I won’t have the strength to bake,” you warned him in a breathless voice, managing to lift your head enough to give him a stern look. 

Ari laughed into your thigh, pressing one last kiss to your skin before he raised up and gave you a wink. “Can’t have that,” he quipped, grabbing your hands and helping you up off the couch. You stumbled a little, your legs weak from your orgasm, but Ari caught you easily, wrapping his arm around your waist while he led you into the kitchen. 

Once you were propped up against the counter near the stand mixer, Ari left to retrieve the apples from the entryway. When he returned, you noticed he carried a pair of slippers that matched the ones he’d put on. Without saying a word, he set them on the floor next to your bare feet and carried on to start washing the fruit in the sink. 

You stepped into the slippers, your heart warming when you realized they were a perfect fit. For a long moment, you stared at Ari’s bare shoulders and broad back, wondering how you’d ever kept such a thoughtful man at arm’s length. Well, you decided, once again, you wouldn’t be doing that anymore. 

Turning back to the stand mixer and the ingredients, you organized everything on the counter, going to the fridge to pull out everything else you’d need. 

To your surprise, you and Ari worked well together in the kitchen. Once he was done cleaning all the apples you’d picked, he asked what he could do next, and you put him to work peeling and coring the fruit while you worked on the other elements of the cheesecake. 

When it came time to bake, Ari took the pan from your hands and popped it into the oven while you set a timer. Tension crackled between the two of you after the oven had snapped closed, and you came together in a flurry of limbs. Ari guided you back into the living room while he kissed you, his hands making quick work of removing all your remaining clothes.

You rode Ari to another orgasm while the sweet treat baked, the golden glow of the New York City sunset keeping the apartment awash in warm hues that made you feel cozy—like you were home. 

Once you were both sated, you collapsed on top of Ari’s chest, burying your face in his neck and nuzzling into his beard. You inhaled the familiar scent of his cologne, vetiver and leather, with a little bit of cinnamon from baking, and melted against him. You wanted to breathe in nothing but that scent for the rest of your life—and you refused to let that thought scare you.

Ari pulled a flannel blanket off of the back of his couch and wrapped it around you both, your pussy keeping his cock warm while you cuddled together until the timer went off. 

You couldn’t help but laugh as you watched Ari take the baking pan out of the oven wearing only an oven mitt on his hand. You, meanwhile, stood off to the side with the flannel blanket wrapped around your shoulders. He’d told you the blanket was highly flammable and insisted you stay clear of the oven with a stern look that made your insides go all gooey.

The two of you made out in the kitchen and made dinner while the cheesecake cooled. All the while, you kept thinking how easy it was to be with Ari, how you could see what your life would be like together. And you liked how it looked. You liked kissing him whenever you wanted and asking him about what movies he liked and what was the last book he read.

After dinner, you ate a slice of cheesecake together, and you couldn’t keep your eyes off of Ari’s face, enjoying every little groan and expression of pleasure he made. It was erotic enough that you left the last bite for him, getting to your feet to walk around the table and straddle his lap. 

He fucked you to another, blisteringly hot orgasm, and laughed only a little when you fell against his chest with an exhausted, but satisfied, sigh. 

In a soft voice, Ari asked if you’d stay the night, and the hope in his tone made your heart warm enough that you ignored the brief flicker of anxiety the question prompted. You shushed the worry inside you and said yes. 

Together, you cleaned up the kitchen and then Ari led you upstairs to the bedroom, pausing every few minutes to kiss you, like he wanted to remind himself you were still there. 

He gave you some of his clothes to wear to bed and showed you where everything was in his bathroom. You couldn’t help but notice that he had all of your favorite products, and a spare toothbrush for you. You smiled as you got ready for bed and slipped under the covers with him.

“Did you have a good day, honey?” Ari asked, pulling you into his body and wrapping you up in his arms. You were wearing one of his t-shirts—a clean one—while he had on a pair of boxer briefs. You hummed happily when your legs tangled together, enjoying the feel of his warm skin and tickling hair against you. 

“Mm, I had the best day, Ari,” you murmured sleepily, the comfort and warmth of his bed making it easy to let your exhaustion creep in. “Kiss,” you said, turning your head and repeating the greeting Ari had given you when he’d picked you up.

Your sugar daddy chuckled, the sound rumbling down your spine and making your heart flutter with delight. Your eyes were already closed, but you could feel his smile when he pressed a sweet, lingering kiss to your lips. 

“Don’t worry, honey, I’ll still be here in the morning,” he promised, his words assuaging a fear you hadn’t realized you’d felt, and you sighed in contentment.

Everything had changed between you and Ari, and you couldn’t help but think it was for the better. You were still a little anxious about opening yourself up to someone, especially a sugar daddy, but Ari had shown you that you could trust him—really trust him, with all your heart—and you were determined to do just that.

“G’night, Ari,” you whispered into the pillow that smelled like him, a hint of a smile in the curve of your mouth as sleep claimed you. 

“Good night, honey,” Ari crooned in your ear, his voice gentle and soft and oh so affectionate. “My sweet, sweet honeycrisp.”

[neovillains]

A MINOR INFRACTION | TOJI FUSHIGURO

syn. you'd do anything not to get a speeding ticket. | 3.0k words ( minors, ageless, and blank blogs: do not interact. )

── police officer!toji fushiguro & fem-bodied!reader, pwp, power imbalance, a nasty & filthy blowjob, deepthroating, gagging, public sex (roadside), cum swallowing.

note. i need toji in a way that is so filthy and disgusting and nasty. it's so bad. also, here is an accurate representation of what i want to do to his cock, and what reader will be doing in this fic.

You weren’t a patient person. You didn’t like to wait for things and often found yourself impatient in long grocery lines. You’d huff and puff silently to yourself, sending people a faux smile when they dared to look in your direction. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly when exactly in your life did you build up such a low tolerance for the virtue, but you don’t exactly care. If you want something, you’ve got to have it as soon as possible. And you desperately want to get home. 

Unlike the grocery store, you have an even worse tolerance for traffic and slow drivers. There were always the ones that went too slow in the fast lane, forcing you to speed past them at their selfishness; and, an asshole that never knew where they were going. Don’t even get started on the nosey people that wanted to lurk at a crime scene, always slowing down to get a good peek at a car wreckage instead of minding their own business. Any time you got the opportunity, you’d zing through the clear roads, the speedometer hitting over seventy mph in a forty-five. You usually get away with it, believing yourself to be an expert at controlling your speed and knowing just when to slow down. 

This time was no different. The moment you hopped in your car, you took a few seconds to set up a playlist before you were starting up the car and putting it in reverse. In three sharp moves, you were out of your work facility and cruising down the streets. As usual, your work days were long and you always complained of a headache right after. However, today seemed to be the worst of it as you weren’t able to get a lunch break because of the amount of call outs from work and your section of the building heavily understaffed. Your manager insisted that you would get a break at some point, but that never happened. 

You could tell that he figured your annoyance with how you failed to respond to his farewell when you let out an exasperated sigh and trudged right towards the elevators. You hadn’t uttered out a word to anyone, and that’s how you wanted it. 

Ten minutes away from home, you figured that if you just accelerated just a little bit more, you could knock it down to five minutes. The road was clear and there was only one other vehicle in sight. As long as you didn’t kill anyone, you were fine. 

You had spoken too soon. The same vehicle you mentioned prior quickly catching up to you as red and blue lights flashed behind you before the siren went off. Gripping the steering wheel, you curse. Hitting your brakes gently, you pulled up to the side of the road, tall blades of grass blowing in the cool autumn wind. You let out a sigh as you park the car, turning off the ignition as you see the black Lexus stop behind you. 

It takes you a moment to wind down the windows. Your shoulders tensing up when you see the door swinging open before seeing the officer that follows. You lean back in the seat before reaching for the top left button. Pressing down, the sound of the glass further antagonizes your migraine before feeling the shadow cast over you. You nearly jump out of your seat when you open your eyes. You clutch your chest, heart racing at the brute of a man— police officer— standing before you. 

You have to crane your head to get a good look at his face— dark hair that tickles his eyebrows, green eyes that glare down at you, and a scar on the left corner of his lips that frowns at you. His uniform holds him snuggly. Too snug, you’d say. Your eyes traverse his body at how he holds his vest, thumbs underneath as his four digits patter on top. He smirks as if he knows the effect he has on people, tilting his head as his eyebrows rise. “You’re well aware why I’m pulling you over, right?”

Your typical brazen attitude dilutes. Instead, meekly nodding your head as you let out a “yeah.”

“Can I see your license and registration?” He cuts right to the chase, taking out a small device as you fish for your purse. You grimace, reaching for your hand bag as it’s right there. However, you’re stalling and the officer can blatantly see that. “You stalling won’t make the ticket go away.”

Dropping the accessory, you fall in your seat, looking up at the officer sheepishly. You couldn’t afford to pay a five hundred dollar ticket. Actually, you could. You could fish into your savings and pay it off no deal, but you didn’t want to. “Is there any way I can not get a ticket?”

He stops tapping on the device, raising a judgemental eyebrow at you before snorting. “You can dispute it in court, but I doubt you’d win.”

You roll your eyes at the snarky comment before an epiphany courses through your body. You wind down your window even further at the possible prospects set in order as cross your arms and rest your chin down. Your eyes sparkle as you peer upwards, reading the name and badge number off of his ID. “There’s… nothing I could do to stop you from writing that ticket, Officer Fushiguro?”

“And risk my job?” Toji scoffs. “I don’t think so.”

He starts tapping away, but with a daring hand, your fingers prod at his belt. Right at the buckle before your index finger goes lower, so dangerously close to reaching for his clothed crotch. “My job has a few positions open. I can put in a good word.”

And who was he to deny a pretty thing like you, even if you offered out of your own selfishness, the cop deserved a little treat for himself. Setting down the tablet with one hand, he goes to switch off his body cam with the next. There’s a high probability that he’d get caught for this when the body cam footage gets reviewed. And, there’s a high probability of him getting suspended or fired over it, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d have to relocate to another police department for his misconduct, and he’s sure the next one would look past the sexual mishap and hire him. It always works out in his favor. 

The street is still bare and if this was kept as discreet as possible, none of the onlookers could tell what was happening. It gives Toji the go ahead when he unravels the holster, letting it hang over your door before he’s loosening the belt. He doesn’t drop his pants, only undoing the zipper enough to reveal the dark boxer briefs that do nothing to hide his heavy print. He palms at his growing erection through the fabric before pulling out his length through the opening. “Let’s put that pretty mouth to good use, yeah?”

Your eyes widen, wanting to bulge out of the sockets at the size of him. Immense length and girth that it hangs instead of stands. His mushroom tip starts leaking of translucent precum as he holds it up through the car window, resting one hand on the roof of your car as he looks down at you. He smears his pre, making the head glisten under the setting sun as he bucks his hips forward. He doesn’t have to say a word, nodding his head for you to open your mouth.

Toji’s been trying to be a better man. To hold himself to standards and do what needs to be done to make a decent living. However, vixens like you always find themselves in his pathway, a blatant trick that he always finds himself falling for. There’s hesitation in your movement, your mouth opening up a mere inch as you shuffle forward. You keep him waiting and wanting for the taste of your touch, making him impatient that his hand reaches inside to pull at your hair. Done nicely in a ponytail, it’s quickly wrecked by the strong grip of his hand forcing you closer to him. The tip of his length kisses your mouth, beckoning you to open up and invite him in just as you promised. 

This isn’t the first time he’s gotten a woman like this, talking a big game before they truly know what they’re dealing with. It makes him chuckle as he tilts his head, the right corner of his lip curving upward in a knowing grin as the sound reverberates from his chest. “What? You want that ticket after all?”

The threat of having to pay off that hefty fine is what helps you muster up the courage, pretty beady eyes that look up at him as you shake your head, no. “Don’t be stupid.”

Finally, you bring a hand to wrap around his length, your hands nowhere big enough to wrap around his impressive girth as you fix yourself in the car. Your free hand goes to unbuckle yourself as you hoist yourself to your knees. The leather seats already bring you pain as the joints dig into them, sticking your head out of the window to get in a better position. You squeeze your hand around the base, feeling the warmth of him before your fingers trickle down to grope at his balls through the uniform. They’re heavy and fat, you can feel. As you peer up at Officer Fushiguro, you can see how he clenches his jaw, not wanting to admit how the taunting action makes him feel as he still grips onto the roof of your car. 

The street’s gotten busier and the sky is darker, but still, no one can tell what’s happening as they zoom past. To them, it looks like a regular stop for a speeding ticket and he hopes to continue making it appear that way. He wants to tell you to get on with it, but your hands glide to grip his cock once more and wrap around the length. Smooth, tandem strokes as saliva pools in your mouth, making it build up before the wad lads straight to his length. You stroke his length, pumping him as he continues to grow harder in your hold. You’re no longer looking at his face, eyes solely focused on the task at hand as your mouth opens just a few centimeters. You feel the vein that runs down the underside of his shaft, rubbing your thumb against it and causing him to twitch in your hold.

You’ve managed to make him feel like he’s in your possession, like you have the say so instead of the other way around. And fuck, does it feel good to let loose. He lets out a low growl that vibrates from deep within as his shoulders fall, releasing all tension within himself. He loosens the hold on your head, but his hand never disappears completely from its place around the elastic band. He starts to wonder if this is some sort of ploy of yours to get yourself out of speeding tickets, and if he’s just one of your victims. If so, why should he care so much if he’s already fallen into your trap and under your spell? 

That migraine of yours seems to go away just by the small tug, the officer loosening the tension of the tight updo as you continue to jerk him off. The wetness of his precum mixed with your saliva makes his cock look like a porcelain prize, calling you over to finally fit him inside your mouth. Your hips shimmy as you take another inch out of the window, the meet of your chest and breasts pressing into the door window. You roll your neck before licking your lips, your pretty pupils finally looking up at him. He could’ve sworn there was a ghost of a smile on your lips, but as quick as it came, it’s gone in the flash of a mere second. 

A pebbled kiss against the urethra, your tongue pokes at it nimbly. The taste of salt against your tongue is diluted as your mouth widens. Your mouth wraps around the head of his cock in a greed as it hollows out almost immediately. Toji grits his teeth, still keeping his composure against the car. A line starts to form at the traffic light as the night grows closer and passers-by start to dig their nose into the officer, eyes trying to see past through the tint before the light turns green again. Unfortunately, Officer Fushiguro couldn’t care less anymore about the stance of his position as a policeman, so absorbed with just the simple action of getting his dick sucked to worry about the consequences. 

You hum around his length, letting out a breath through your nose as you run your tongue down the shaft. The soft and thin veil of skin that moves with the push and pull of your wet muscle before your tongue flattens out to feel the hardness of his cock. You salivate, your mouth watering as the stench of sweat and pheromones mix into your senses, the smell bringing you into a haze as you try inching closer. You take more of him, feeling the way his length dips further inside, reaching for your uvula as you subconsciously start tearing up. You restrain yourself from gagging, the corner of your lips starting to drip with spit, sliding down your face. 

You forced yourself to take majority of him in before your reflexes started to finally acting up, a stream of tears already coming to follow. Toji hissed, pulling at the ponytail to tilt your head upward. “Take it easy, doll.”

Such simple words to set yourself at ease, but simultaneously turn you on. Arousal pools into the cotton of your underwear, creating a dark patch as you nod. You bring your hand to hold around the base, pulling yourself off his length to catch a breath. And fuck, do you look so pretty like this. All teary-eyed and ruined in a matter of a couple of minutes. He loved to watch them all struggle to take his length, no matter the hole, but it was just something about ruining their mouth that always kept him going. Just seeing how messed up their faces could get when they struggled. It was an intoxicating experience. 

The cold air hits his length, making Toji inhale deeply before you’re on your second attempt. This time, you take him in gradually, bringing him in inch by inch and slowly bobbing your head. What you couldn’t get to fit, you twisted your fist around instead, pumping his cock inside of you as he started to groan and grunt. The police officer admires you from up above, cursing under his breath. “Atta girl. You’ve got it now.”

You can taste more of his salted pre, loving the way he reacts to you. Your cheeks hollow out as you make eye contact. You mewl as you grow more confidence to try and take more in once again. You push yourself deeper, letting his tip graze the back of your throat before forcing in more. You let yourself gag before pulling away, repeating it a couple of times. Your saliva bubbles, dripping down your chin and out onto the solid concrete. His grip on your hair tightens, but he never forces you down, just seemingly overwhelmed by pleasure. The dark blue sky kisses his skin finally as the moon fully peaks out from the dark clouds, the street lamps flickering on as the flashing headlights of speeding vehicles zoom past. 

This feels like a wet dream he never wants to escape as the wet sounds of you fucking your mouth on his cock gets muted by the sound of the night life. Oh, how he’d love to hear them alongside his deep moans. He was so expectant of you to disappoint, so ready to still write you up for a ticket in your failure. However, you swirl your tongue over his tip as he can feel that curdle in his stomach. You switch from tantalizing swirls to bobbing your head up and down, looking so pleased with yourself for making the officer on duty fall apart. 

“Fuuuck,” he drawls. There’s no alert of his approaching orgasm, simply shooting thick ropes into your mouth that you nearly choke on his seed. It’s so copious as you come to sing out high-pitched mewls. However, you’re still a relentless slut, continuing your sexual administrations on his length as his cum drips from the corners of your lips as well. He bucks his hips into you, eyes shutting as his sensitive head feels wrecked. You finally pull back, letting what’s left of his cum pool underneath your tongue before spitting it right out and letting it drip down his length. You jerk him off with quick thrusts of your hand, watching the way his hips stutter ever so slightly as he still tries to keep himself together. It seems useless with a woman like you as suck and guzzle at his tip. This second orgasm was quicker to approach than the first one, his sensitive urethra spurting out a thinner veil of cum. With brute strength, his grip on your head only tightens as he forces you down on his cock, making his head kiss the back of your throat to empty himself inside of you. 

He could tell you’re the type of gal to go at it all night if you could, pulling you off of his length with a muted pop as he looks down at your face. You look so much prettier like this. Makeup all ruined as you’re all teary-eyed and a mess. He’s a man true to his word, no longer going to write you a ticket. However, he didn’t want to waste this opportunity, wanting a taste of that pussy. Is it as good as your mouth is?

When he catches his breath, his chest rising and falling, through his hooded hazel eyes, his grins sinisterly. “I dunno. I think I’mma still have t’write up that ticket, ma’am.”

Your eyes widen as your chest heaves. “Wha—”

Inside, he reaches to unlock your door, pulling the handle open before forcing you to lean back. “I think your pussy will certainly do the trick.”

🕷. @r0ckst4rjk @kasukuna @pixelcafe-network

[keikikait]

ᴛʜᴏʀᴏᴜɢʜꜰᴀʀᴇ (ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20s)

word count: 4.7k

summary: rafe helps you after your car breaks down

warnings: dead dove, do not eat. stalker!rafe, smut? (it's just masturbation + some suggestive stuff), rafe is obsessed, please read at your own discretion!, innocent(ish)!reader, again, stalker!rafe, manipulation, rafe gets the reader high on coke (she agrees, but he thinks some weird things), idk anything ab cars but i tried, also i've never done cocaine but i tried to do some research

a note: happy halloween.

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

You didn't understand what was wrong with your car.

No matter how many times you took it to an auto shop, how much money you spent, it kept breaking down. Your check engine light would come on at the most random times, even after just getting it fixed the day before.  You were spending all of your money on trying to fix your clunker, a 1993 Lexus LS400 that your father was certain was a waste of time. In the long run, it would be cheaper to buy a new car, but you loved it too much to say goodbye. The AC was surprisingly cold, providing much needed relief for the hot North Carolinian summers. It didn't take much to fill it up, and you had beau coups of trunk space. It was your car and that's all that mattered to you.

You had decided to take your car to a different auto shop, across the thoroughfare onto the mainland. You had thought that a fresh pair of eyes would keep you from coming back the week after because your transmission was shot again. The mechanic was able to fix your transmission in no time, sending you off on your way with a hefty bill. It was raining, a summer thunderstorm on the horizon, and you couldn't wait to get home.

You had just passed over the thoroughfare back onto Kildare when your car started to rumble and shake. You feel like screaming as you pull over, banging your palms on the steering wheel. Your car rumbles and shakes, smoke billowing out of the hood. You reach behind your seat and grab your raincoat, putting it on and putting the hood up. You grab your phone and turn on the flashlight, reaching down to pull back the lever to pop the hood. Afterwards, you step out, pulling your hood tight over your head as you lift the hood and prop it up. You look around, waving the smoke away from your face, but you don't even know what you're looking for.

Gravel crunches behind you as another car approaches, casting a shadow over your hood. You freeze, sliding your phone open to the emergency call. You look over your shoulder as someone climbs out. 

Rafe Cameron, Kook prince of Kildare, in his own navy blue raincoat. He raises his eyebrows, a small smirk on his face. “Having car troubles?”

You tense up a little. You knew Rafe, of course you did, but your interactions with him were few and far in between. You were on the sidelines for most of his problems with JJ, John B, and Pope, not wanting to piss off the most powerful man in the Outer Banks. You finally find your voice, fidgeting with the sleeves of your raincoat. “Yeah. I just got it fucking fixed, too.” You sigh.

His lips twitched, the ghost of a smirk playing at his lips as he looked at you. He had noticed you long before you had even crossed paths, but now, here you were. Standing in the rain, soaked and shivering. He walked over, joining you at your side, and he glanced into your engine, not even pretending to be able to fix it. “You know... this old clunker is gonna cost you more in the long run than if you just got rid of it. Might as well cut your losses while you can, angel.”

Your stomach flips at the nickname, but you ignore it. “It’s my car, Rafe, I can’t just like…abandon her.”

He chuckled, his gaze moving from the hood of your clunker to your face. Your big pretty eyes, your cheeks already beginning to flush from the cold rain. He stepped closer, pushing against the hood so it was angled more, blocking your view of the world around. He leaned against it, crossing his arms, and he stared down at you. “You can, you just don't want to. There's a difference. You like this thing. You're attached.”

You sigh again. “Well duh, Rafe, it’s my only car. I know that concept is hard for you to understand.”

“Is that any way to talk to someone who could help you?” Rafe asks, taking a step back. He glances under the hood again, although he’s just as clueless as you. 

“Help me?” You ask.

He looks over at you again, his expression blank. “I’m a pretty powerful guy, you know. It wouldn’t take much to… oh, I don’t know, maybe find you a newer car. Or,” his lips twitch up into his signature smirk. “Just pay for the repairs.”

“I don’t want to take your money, you know.” You say, crossing your arms.

“Why not?” He asks with a scoff. “It’s just money, angel. I have plenty.”

You sigh. You really don’t want to do this with him. “Look, just…thank you for stopping to check on me. I’m just gonna call a tow truck and wait out the rain.”

He watched as you turned to your phone, a heavy frown settling on his lips. That wasn’t going to do. Rafe suddenly reaches out, grabbing your wrist. “Or—“ he speaks before you’re able to dial, his touch firm but not bruising. “You could just come with me.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You say.

“But I want to,” he says. “It’s raining, you’re cold and alone, and you’re gonna wait on a tow truck who may not show up for hours. Your little car is about to get flooded. Come on, sweetheart.“

You hesitate, reaching over to put the hood of your car back down. “I don’t know, Rafe. I feel bad, you know? Making you drive me all the way to The Cut.”

“It’s nothing for me.” He says, gently tugging on your wrist to guide you toward his car. He looks at you from the side, his gaze taking in your worried expression, and he lets out a soft sigh. “You’re cute when you’re being stubborn, angel. But it’s unnecessary.”

You sigh. His truck did beat walking. “Fine. Lemme get my stuff.”

Rafe lets go of your wrist, watching you as you dig through your front seat, grabbing everything important. He crosses his arms over his chest, pulling the hood forward as his eyes run over your body, stopping on your ass, head tilting as he admires the way your jeans hug your body. He bites the inside of his lip, wondering what you would look like bent over his lap with two red handprints on your ass, slightly bruised from where his rings would catch the skin. 

Did he feel bad about constantly fucking with your car? A little bit. 

But was he happy that he now had you all to himself? Of course he was.

You were Rafe’s obsession, ever since he first met you a year and a half ago. He, at first, tried so hard to forget you, the little Pogue girl that had the sheer audacity to be friends with his least favourite person in the world, Pope, but as the days passed, he couldn’t get you out of his mind. He started out by just thinking about you every so often, occasionally glancing in the direction of The Boneyard when he drove past, hoping he would see you in a bikini. 

Then, he started thinking about you every day, which turned into every night. He would lay on his bed, back against his headboard, and stroke his cock while scrolling through your Instagram feed. Just one look at you would send him close to cumming, and he can’t count how many times he’s cummed in his pants just from seeing you around Kildare. You had a few bikini pics taken from all angles, but his favourite ones were the ones of you smiling at the camera. Rafe has a favourite photo to jerk off to, something that sends him cumming all over his fingers after a few strokes. It’s a photo of you, taken from a high up angle, looking into the camera with your big beautiful eyes, holding a lollipop in your mouth. 

He loves it so much, it’s even his phone’s wallpaper.

Rafe wanted to corrupt you. He wanted to consume you, turn you inside out and fill you with just him. You didn’t need anyone else. You had him, even if you didn’t know it.

You shove your registration and some other important documents from your glove compartment into your bag, shutting and locking the door. You unzip your jacket, sliding the bag between your body and the fabric to try to keep it protected from the rain. You join Rafe back at his truck, climbing into the passenger seat. His car is neat, surprisingly, with only a tube of Aquaphor in one of his cupholders. Hanging from his rearview mirror, along with a car air freshener, is a Polaroid photo of him with his youngest sister Wheezie. There was also photo of you, which was now scurried away in his centre console, buried under a packet of Wet Wipes. He didn’t think you would appreciate that gesture, even though he did, and he didn’t want to scare you off.

Rafe takes the bags from you, carefully placing it on the floor of the backseat, his eyes running over you as you settle into the seat. His hands were shaking slightly as the starts the car and puts it in drive. He couldn’t believe this actually worked. He had been following you all day, tracking your phone as he kept his distance in his car. 

You didn’t even notice when he cloned your phone. Rafe had been tracking your every move for months, reading every single text and listening in on every single conversation. He knew it would freak you out if you found out, but he was just trying to protect you! You didn’t realise it, but you needed him. He was protecting you from the scumbags who were trying to date you. You were so sweet, too sweet, and he didn’t want one of those dirty Pogue bastards to take advantage of you. He had planned on making his move with you anyway, but your car breaking down was a gift from the gods. They were placing you right into his calloused hands.

The rain splatters against the windshield with a low tap tap tap, a steady rhythm that keeps the silence from feeling completely unnerving. The air is warm, the heat turned up high, and Rafe looks at you as he buckles his seat belt. “You better thank me.” His smirk is back, a wicked curl at the corner of his lips.

You roll your eyes. “Thank you, Rafe.”

He chuckles, glancing away from you briefly as he puts one hand on the wheel. “That wasn’t very convincing, angel…” His gaze returns to you, moving over the slope of your nose, your neck, down to where the rain has made your shirt cling to your chest. His mouth is dry, making it hard to swallow, and his knuckles were turning white from how hard he was gripping the wheel.

You look up at him, your head tilted towards him, your eyes big. “Thank you, Rafe.”

His smirk falters, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of your big doe eyes staring up at him. He bites the inside of his lip, staring down at you. He can’t believe that you were really right here, that he had you trapped right in his own little cage. There was something about seeing you look so innocent that made him want to ruin you. His breathing starts to come a bit harder, the urge to grab you and kiss you until you couldn’t breathe with your wrists tied behind your back making his entire body ache. He clears his throat before putting the car into drive, pulling off of the side of the road, heading back towards Kildare.

You notice his heavy breathing and his tight grip on the steering wheel. Your eyebrows furrow. “You okay?”

“Mhm,” he hums, clearing his throat. His grip loosens on the steering wheel, clenching his fingers to alleviate the ache. He forces himself to relax his grip, taking a deep breath. After a moment passes, and the silence is heavy on his shoulders, he glances over at you again. “You ever done drugs, angel?”

You rub your lips together. You could be honest with him, right? “Yeah, once.”

His gaze runs over your face as you speak. God, you’re so fucking innocent, it was intoxicating. “Once?” he echoes, tilting his head slightly. “That’s adorable. What drug was it? Pot? I can’t see you doing anything hard core, angel.”

“Yeah, it was weed,” You say. “JJ got his hands on some, and he let me have a few hits.”

He glances over at you again, his fingers clenching as he tries to not show his jealousy. He hated all of your little Pogue friends, JJ included. He didn’t like the idea of you getting high with JJ -- becoming vulnerable. What if JJ took advantage of you? Rafe clears his throat, looking back at the road. “That’s cute, angel. Was that your first and only time?”

“Yeah,” You say, shifting in the seat. “I just… I don’t know if it’s my thing, you know? I had a pretty bad high. I thought I was dying.”

His lips twitched, trying to keep his temper under control. He had just gotten you into his car, he couldn’t scare you away. Of course that fucker JJ had a hand in your bad experience, he probably gave you too much and didn’t take good care of you. He would never do that to you. He would give you the perfect intro into the wonderful world of drugs. “That’s because he gave you too much, angel. A beginner should never go too far their first time. You need to start small, so you don’t have a bad experience. It’s all about moderation.”

You look over at him. “Well, it’s technically my fault. I took too many hits.”

Rafe laughs softly, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. He glances over at you, his gaze roaming over you slowly, from head to toe, and back to your face. He had already decided that he was going to give you something, just to see you experience it. “What did it feel like? Being high.”

“I liked it,” You say. “I was laughing a lot, until I started feeling like I was dying. I don’t know, the floaty feeling… it was nice, you know?”

He hums, his lips curling into a slight smirk. He could only imagine what you would be like, all loose and relaxed, a giggly high. He wonders what it would be like to kiss you when you were high, how compliant you would be, unable to stop him. His mind starts to wander, thinking about the look in your eyes as he pushes his cock into you, all woozy and out of it. “Would you ever smoke weed again?”

“Yeah, I think so,” You say. “Just wouldn’t do it with JJ in the middle of The Boneyard again.”

“Good,” he says with a firm nod. He glances over at you again, the smirk still playing on his lips. His gaze is dark, his pupils dilated. He was itching for the right opportunity to show you something better, something that could get you addicted, addicted to him. “Would you ever try anything harder?” Rafe pulls to a stop at the red light. Turning left would bring you to the north side of Kildare, where Figure 8 is, while turning right would bring you to the south side, towards The Cut.

You hesitate. “I don’t know, Rafe. I would want to do it in a safe space, you know? Not at like a party or anything.”

He hums, turning right when the light turns green. “A safe space, huh?” He glances over at you, biting his lip. His eyes trace your face, how sweet and innocent you looked, and his mind was suddenly made up. He was going to introduce you to the most euphoric feeling of your life, and he was going to take care of you as you felt it. “What about if we did it? Just you and me.”

You shift in the seat again. There’s a sinking feeling in your gut, like something is telling you to run. “Do you just… have cocaine lying around?”

The light turns green. The car doesn’t move.

His lips twitch again, and his fingers drum at the wheel. “Yeah, angel, I actually do.” He glances over at you, noticing the way you were shifting. He could see the hesitance in your wide eyes, the look of fear. “You don't have to look so scared, sweetheart. I won't let anything bad happen to you. I'm gonna make sure you feel so good. Just trust me.”

You bite your lip, looking out the window. You had heard so much about Rafe from Pope, JJ, and John B about how psychotic, impulsive, and destructive he is, but he was being so gentle with you. You look back at him. “Promise?”

“Promise.” He turns his head, making eye contact. He knew you were scared, and it made his cock throb in his jeans. He was telling you the truth, of course, he would take care of you, and he would make sure that you liked it. He wanted you to come back to him for more and more. “You know, you really don't have to be afraid of me, angel. I'm only bad to people who do things to deserve it. I promise I'll treat you good. I will make you feel good, so long as you trust me, and do what I say. Can you do that?”

Your stomach churns. You shouldn’t do this, and you shouldn’t be in Rafe’s truck, but something about him made you want to stay. “Yeah, I can do that.”

His lips curl into a smirk, that same wicked curl as earlier. He was slowly breaking you down, making you do what he wanted, without you even realising it. He wasn't forcing you to do anything, he was just asking. How could you say no to him, when he asked you nicely? “Good girl.”

Rafe takes the left turn.

You let out a shaky breath. You were really doing this.

You look out the window as he drives through Figure 8, taking in the sights of the looming mansions. You glance back over at him as he drives straight past Tanneyhill. “Are you not there anymore?”

Rafe snorts, shaking his head. “Haven't been there in months, not since my dad died.” He glances over at you, the smirk still playing on his lips. “I'm living somewhere else now. A true bachelor.” He slows down as he turns into the driveway of a large white home that looked like one of many others that surrounded it, although, not quite as big. He pulls to a stop, pulling the keys out of the ignition and tucking them into his pockets. “Come on. Don’t be shy.”

You grab your bag from the floorboards of the backseat before hopping out, quickly rushing through the downpour to the front door. Rafe easily catches up to you, his stride much longer than yours. He leads the way though, pulling his keys back out of his pocket as he shoves the front door open. He holds it open for you, gesturing with a sweep of his arm for you to head inside. “Welcome to my humble home, angel. Make yourself at home.”

You stand in the entryway, not wanting to drip water all over his real hardwood floors. “Do you have clothes I can borrow? I don’t wanna get your furniture wet.”

Rafe smirks, his gaze running over your soaking wet body, his cock throbbing at the thought of how hard your nipples must be. “I think I have something you can wear, but yeah, you really should get out of those wet clothes.” He pulls the front door shut, locking it behind you. “Come on, I’ll show you to my room.” He grabs your hand, leading you through the empty house.

You follow him through the house, taking in the minimal, neutral decor. It honestly looked like no one lived there, the walls of the house were bare, the couches were all black leather, including the recliner in the corner. There was a large white rug in the middle of a living room, covering the floor. The kitchen was to the left of the front door, although it wasn't as barren, with stainless steel appliances and cabinets. The only personal things in the house were a large flat screen TV in the living room, a framed picture of a young Rafe with baby Sarah on the kitchen counter, and a hallway of closed doors that led to the extra rooms. 

His room is just as bare, although it’s a lot messier, boxers and t-shirts litter the floor and are strewn over an armchair set up in front of his TV and PlayStation. His bedside table is covered with empty plastic water bottles, a crumpled bag of chips, and another framed photo, although this one is of him and Wheezie.

“Cute room.” You say.

“Thanks.” He says, his gaze running over you again, his eyes lingering on your chest, imagining what your nipples look like before returning to your face. He walks over to his dresser, pulling out a green T-shirt and grey sweatpants. He tosses them towards you and you catch them. “You can change in the bathroom down the hall and throw your clothes into the dryer. Just set it to quick dry, okay? Otherwise, it’ll take fucking forever.”

You smile softly, holding the clothes in your arms. “Thanks, Rafe.”

“No problem.” He says, sitting down on the edge of his bed and leaning back. He watches you as you slip down the hall, headed towards the bathroom. Rafe waits a few moments, his fingers drumming against his thigh. He had been waiting to get you alone for so long, to make you his, and now, he was so close.

But he had promised to go slow, and even though it was killing him. He didn't want you to run away.

You peel your clothes off, hanging them over the sink as you change. You dry your hair with a towel before pulling Rafe’s T-shirt over your head. It smells like him; a warm, slightly citrusy smell that makes your head spin. You step into the sweatpants and tie them around your hips. They were a big baggy, but you didn’t mind. You put your clothes into the dryer and set it to quick dry before heading back into Rafe’s bedroom. You spin in a circle, looking at him over your shoulder. “How do I look?”

Rafe had been waiting for what seemed like an eternity, trying to resist the urge to go after you. He had changed himself, putting on a pair of sweats and a hoodie. He was almost half hard and as he watches you spin around, the look in your big innocent eyes, he has to dig his fingernails into his palms to prevent himself from jumping on you. He swallows, a dry click echoing in his throat, and he licks his lips, his eyes fixed on you. “You look good.” he murmurs, his gaze travelling over your body and how his T-shirt was loose enough for him to slip a hand under it without any effort. “Are you comfy?”

You nod, fiddling with the hem of the T-shirt as you sit down on the edge of his bed. “Yeah, I’m comfy.”

Rafe’s lips tilt into a smile as he watches you fiddle with your hem. You looked so sweet, his pretty little angel, all alone with him, no one to protect you. “You don’t have to be nervous, sweetheart, I’m not gonna hurt you. You’re in good hands with me, I promise.” He scoots a little closer, looking down at you with his big blue eyes, his lips mere inches from yours. “Do you still want to do it?” God, please say yes.

“Yeah, of course I do,” You say quickly. “Just haven’t done it before, so I’m nervous, you know?”

God, he was going to hell for this. “I know.” He whispers, his gaze roaming over your face, drinking in every beautiful detail. His fingers reach out, gently brushing your jaw. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, angel. I promise.” He glances away for a moment, toward his bedside, toward the bedside table where he had a small bag of coke.

Fuck. This is actually happening.

Your back straightens as you crawl closer to him on the bed, watching as he gets out the bag of coke, along with a small circular mirror.

Rafe looks back at you, his gaze darkening as he sees you come closer, closing the space between you and him. His hand trembles as he opens the bag, using the edge of his credit card to separate the white powder laid out on the mirror. He couldn’t wait to get you addicted to him. He had wanted this for so long, had wanted you for so long, and he couldn’t believe this was actually happening. “You gotta promise not to be scared, angel.” He whispers, glancing over at you as he grabs the rolled up bill.

You let out a shaky breath. “Is there, um…do I have to snort it? Or is there, like, another way? I just don’t know if I can snort it, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” He smirks softly, his gaze travelling over you as you move even closer to him. He couldn't help but smirk slightly at your question. He was going to love this. He straightens out the lines with his credit card. “I can rub it on your gums if you want.”

You nod. “Yeah. Okay. That works.”

He grins, glancing over at you as he pushes himself back, getting comfortable against the headboard. “Come here, angel.” He grabs the front of your shirt, pulling you closer so that you’re sitting before him, between his legs. He glances at your pretty face, his gaze dark and heavy.

You’re scared. He loves it.

Rafe grabs your chin, fingers squishing into your cheeks. “Open your mouth, angel…” You oblige and he grins. “Good girl, good.” Rafe licks his pointer finger before reaching over and swiping through one of the lines. “Alright angel, last chance, do you wanna do this?”

You nod.

“Good girl.” Rafe hums, grabbing your chin as his wet finger moves from the line of coke, rubbing it along your gums. His gaze flits between yours and his hand before pulling away. You looked so fucking good, letting him take advantage of you like this. “Leave it for a moment, okay? You don't have to suck or lick, just leave it in your mouth.” Your gums tingle, the taste slightly bitter.

Rafe watches you close, leaning back once he takes his hand away. He watches you intently, watching the way your expression changes as the drug takes flight.

He was in love.

The cocaine hits you fast, and you start getting squirmy, your pupils wide and blown out. He watches your face as you react to the drug, watching how your eyes flit around and how your breath comes in deep, slightly shaky. He leans forward, grabbing your arms. “Come here, angel, sit in my lap.” You can’t do anything, letting him move you around before settling you into his lap.

His arms slide around your waist, his hands gripping your hips, keeping you against him, like a precious doll. “Does it make you feel good, angel?” He asks, leaning forward, his nose brushing against the crook of your neck, breathing you in. You smelled sweet, and you were a perfect fit in his arms, so much so that he almost didn’t want to let you go. Almost.

You nod. You felt so good. Everything was heightened so deliciously, and you melted into Rafe’s arms, letting the scent of his cologne travel through you.

“I’m so glad, angel, I wanted to make you happy.” He whispers, leaning up and pressing a kiss to your jaw, his hands holding onto your hips, keeping you flush against him. He loves the way you move, how your body feels against his, how you were his. He wanted to make you want this again, and again, until you couldn’t think about anything but him, until you couldn’t go without it. Rafe kisses up your neck, hands sliding under the front of his shirt. Your eyes are fluttering and your whole body shakes as your ears start to ring. You squirm, and he grins, moving his head up. He gently bites your earlobe before whispering into your ear. 

“You did well saying yes to me.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

part two is here!

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[austinbutlerslovers]

Under the Mistletoe

Label Mature 18+

Summary it’s near Christmas and you’re ecstatic to indulge in the festivities especially with your handsome fiancé Patrick by your side. However as the evening wears on you begin to realize your relationship isn’t as blissful as it seems.

⚠️ Hardcore Smut ⚠️ Patrick almost having a violent psychotic break • name calling • toxic relationship dynamics •kiss it better •restraint•dirty talk •mild choking•edging• fingering •love bites•pinning •size kink• cock warming• male dominant•P in V against a wall•multiple orgasms •cream pie• mild after care 🔗MasterList

📖 Proof Reader @purejasmine 3 parts upcoming (maybe more) : 🔗 Silken Secrets •🔗 Drenched in Shadows TBA

Under The Mistletoe

The Waldorf Astoria Christmas gala is dazzling, a picture perfect scene of Manhattan excess. Everything sparkles: lights, dresses, diamonds, and you thrive in it. You’re the darling of the Upper East Side tonight, flitting between friends and admirers, your laughter bright and carefree.

Patrick watches you from across the room, leaning against the bar in his Tom Ford tuxedo, a glass of champagne in hand.

He is the epitome of perfection. Chiseled features, every muscle precisely defined under his tailored suit, and sharp, cold blue eyes that command attention.

The lights from the Christmas tree reflect off his perfectly styled hair, making him look almost ethereal. But beneath the surface, his mind churns.

—She’s exhausting. Beautiful, yes, but insufferable tonight. How much longer can I keep this up?

You’re chatting animatedly with a group of friends, oblivious to the way his gaze pierces through you. When you glance his way, you catch his sharp smirk, and your heart skips. You love that smirk—it’s confident, seductive, and just for you.

“Patrick, come here!” you call, waving him over. The group makes room for him, and he steps in smoothly, placing a possessive hand on your lower back.

Now under the mistletoe, someone teases, “Oh, Patrick, you know the rule!”

Patrick’s grin widens. “I don’t follow rules,” he quips, pulling you close to him. His lips press to yours, firm and commanding, eliciting a chorus of playful cheers. But the kiss isn’t sweet. It’s a performance, sharp and calculated, and you feel it.

Later, as the party winds down, you’re in the car heading back to Patrick’s penthouse. The silence is heavy. You’re perched in the passenger seat of his immaculate Lexus, prattling on about holiday plans, your friends vacations, and what you want for Christmas.

“And Sophie is spending New Year’s in St. Barts—ugh, can you imagine? It’s so cliche to flaunt it like that,” you chatter, oblivious to his mounting frustration.

Patrick’s jaw tightens, his cold gaze fixed on the road ahead.

—I should pull over. Quiet her. Permanently. The way she talks, her voice, that incessant laugh—it grates. But not yet. Not tonight. Keep the mask on.

“Are you even listening to me, Patrick?” you pout, crossing your arms.

He pulls into the parking garage, kills the engine, and steps out of the car without answering. You’re left fuming as he strides toward the elevator, leaving you to follow.

His penthouse is immaculate—gleaming marble floors, sleek minimalist furniture, and floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city.

Patrick removes his jacket, draping it over a chair with deliberate precision. You, still sulking, remove your fur coat and kick off your heels tossing your hand bag on the couch.

“Are you going to ignore me all night?” you demand, your voice sharp with irritation.

Patrick turns, his cold gaze locking onto you. “You’re such a spoiled brat,” he says evenly, his tone devoid of warmth.

You blink, stunned. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he says, stepping closer. His presence overwhelming, and for the first time, a flicker of unease crosses your mind.

“The whining, the entitlement, the need for constant attention—it’s exhausting, darling,” he says, his tone sharp and cutting.

You open your mouth to retort, but he’s already on you, his hands gripping your arms as he pushes you against the entry wall.

His movements are firm bordering on violent as he holds you in place his face inches from yours.

“Patrick, you’re scaring me,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“Good,” he says, his smirk cold and dangerous. “Maybe you should be scared.”

His hand moves to your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “You walk around like the world owes you something. Do you even realize how ridiculous you sound?”

Tears brim your eyes, but your body betrays you, heat rising in your core as his grip on your jaw tightens keeping you firmly in place.

His sharp gaze flickers with something darker, more sinister, but he reins it in.

—She’s useful —break her…not entirely. You need her for connections —for appearances..to fit in

“Don’t cry,” he says soothingly, his grip loosening as he leans in closer, “You’ll ruin your makeup,” he whispers against your ear.

He pulls back, his sharp eyes locking onto yours with a detached precision, and before you can say anything, his mouth is on yours, kissing you with an intensity you’ve never known before.

His hands roam your body—firm and commanding—groping your waist, sliding up to squeeze your breasts

You pull back sharply, when his touch grows too rough, the possessiveness behind it making your heart race.

“Patrick—” you gasp, but he silences you, his hand wrapping around your throat tightly enough to make you stop.

“Quiet,” he orders, his voice low and commanding as he holds you in place. “You wanted my attention now you have it” he confirms his blue eyes locking onto yours with a sharp intensity.

A soft, involuntary sound escapes your lips as his grip tightens just enough to make your breath hitch, and your body betrays you as the slick evidence of your arousal forms between your thighs.

Patrick catches the flicker of desire in your eyes, his sharp gaze narrowing with dark satisfaction, and without hesitation he firmly presses his knee between your legs, slowly spreading them apart.

“You enjoy this, don’t you?” he observes, releasing his hold and lowering his lips down your neck, leaving a trail of sharp bites and kisses that make you gasp.

“Of course you do,” he rasps, his voice low and rough, as he yanks your head back, offering your neck for more of his mouth to mark and claim.

“A spoiled brat like you loves being put in her place,” he whispers against your neck, his hands sliding down your body, roughly pulling at your dress, bunching it up to your hips.

His fingers skim along your inner thighs, pausing just long enough to make you squirm, his eyes darkening with satisfaction at your impatience.

“So spoiled” he taunts his voice filled with lust.

His fingers press against your soaked panties, rubbing slow, teasing circles that make your hips writhe instinctively.

You can’t help but moan softly, aching for more, the tension in your body melting into pure need as he takes his time tormenting you, letting your hips roll against his hand.

“Stop that,” he orders, his hand firmly gripping between your thighs, the sudden restraint sending a surge of heat through your body. “You’ll move when I let you.”

“Patrick, please,” you whimper, your voice desperate, barely above a whisper.

He pulls your panties aside, his fingers sliding over your slick folds with maddening precision. “Please what?” he asks, his voice laced with dark seduction. “You don’t even know what you’re begging for, do you?”

His fingers slide inside you, and you gasp feeling each slow thrust hitting the perfect place within.

You moan softly as his sharp gaze remains locked on yours watching you struggle to remain still. The overwhelming sensation makes you clench helplessly around his fingers, the pleasure so intense it leaves you trembling against his hand.

“Look at you,” he whispers, his lips brushing against yours, refusing to kiss you fully. “My spoiled little brat, always getting exactly what she wants.”

You moan loudly as his thumb finds your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to make your thighs tighten against his hand.

“Don’t you dare stop Patrick …I-Im going to come” you whine softly, your voice laced with unmistakable entitlement.

“Of course you’re going to come” he mocks, his eyes gleaming with wicked satisfaction. “A spoiled brat like you always gets what she wants”

You cry out, choking back a sob as your body arches against him, the rush of release flooding through you as his fingers thrust into you relentlessly, making you orgasm with perfect precision.

He doesn’t stop as you come, his thrusts growing more intense, his fingers pushing deeper, his thumb working a devastating assault on your clit.

“One is never enough,” he says, his voice dark and commanding. “You’re going to come for me again.”

He leans in, his lips finding your neck, his mouth rough, his teeth grazing and nipping at your skin, making you clench around his fingers with each stinging bite.

Your moans grow louder, your body trembling as the pressure builds feeling him thrust impossibly faster.

Then, just as you’re on the brink, his fingers pull away abruptly, leaving you reeling, your breaths coming in short, desperate gasps without his touch.

Before you can protest, he grabs your thigh, roughly lifting it and pressing you back against the wall. The contrast of his height and unyielding strength sending a thrill through you.

“You can’t even wait for it, can you?” he taunts, his fingers moving to unbuckle his belt, his smirk deepening as he watches you squirm.

“I cant—” you confess your voice trembling hearing the sound of his zipper lowering in the silence.

Your eyes drop instinctively, your body writhing as he reveals his cock, the size and hardness making you bite down on your lip, all your thoughts blurring into one desperate need to have him inside you.

He teasingly strokes his hand along his impressive length, his sharp gaze pinning you in place. “This is exactly what you need,” he says, his tone low and dangerous as his hips align with yours. “To have me tame the spoiled little attitude right out of you until you’re begging me to let you come.”

You gasp sharply feeling the thick, blunt tip of his cock press against your wetness, the slick sound of your arousal filling the silence as he pushes in just barely.

A broken moan escapes your lips, your hips instinctively shifting toward him, desperate for more, but he pulls back just as quickly, leaving you aching.

“Please Patrick” You whimper, your eyes wide and pleading meeting his sharp gaze. His smirk deepens, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his face as he takes in your desperation.

“Already begging?” he taunts in disbelief. “You can’t even handle a second of patience without falling apart can you,” he mocks with amusement.

He smoothly pushes in again even slower, parting you inch by excruciating inch as you clutch his shoulders feeling the size of his cock.

Then he thrusts into you hard, a cry ripping from your throat as he fills you completely in one brutal motion.

The sudden fullness of his penetration has you gasping, your body pinned helplessly between him and the wall, his grip on your thigh tightening to keep you in place.

“What’s the matter?” he pauses, letting you struggle against the overwhelming size of his cock, the sharp ache radiating through you as he holds you still, refusing to move.

“Too much for my spoiled little princess?” he grins, his voice dark and cutting as his sharp gaze locks onto your flushed face, watching every tremble and gasp with satisfaction.

He holds you in place he thrusts into you with unyielding force, each drive of his hips erasing every coherent thought from your mind.

Your lips part, gasping and trembling, releasing broken breathless moans as your chest heaves with every breath.

“You’re an absolute mess for me,” he taunts, his voice uneven as he thrusts harder, his pace unrelenting as your moans grow louder, spilling freely now, your body trembling under his control.

The pressure builds impossibly fast, his cock thrusting with a relentless speed, hitting that perfect spot over and over until your thighs quake and you’re left gasping his name.

His hand grips the back of your neck, his sharp gaze locking onto your eyes now dazed in bliss, a testament to how thoroughly he’s taming you.

“Completely ruined… just like I knew you’d be,” he rasps with satisfaction, seeing your face blushing radiantly in surrender. “My perfect little fiancée, undone entirely on my cock.” He breathes, desperation lacing his voice as he loses himself in the moment.

You moan for him, lost in pleasure your hands gripping the back of his neck, your nails digging into his skin as his pace grows faster, harder, each thrust forcing a gasp from your lips as your body struggles to keep up with his brutal pace.

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the space, drowning out your whimpers and cries, your body jerking with each unrelenting thrust.

“Patrick… please…” you manage, your words broken between desperate breaths, your chest heaving as you struggle to form a coherent thought.

Your muscles clench involuntarily, each punishing thrust drawing a raw cry from your lips, your body reacting helplessly to his relentless force.

“You act so spoiled —so untouchable —but look how easily you break for me,” he pants, his grip tightening on your thigh, yanking you closer while his other hand presses your hip firmly against the wall, pinning you in place as he pounds into you with unyielding control.

Your mind goes blank, your moans turning into incoherent cries as he dominates you.

Your orgasm tears through you, your sobs catching in your throat as your body clenches and quivers against him.

His teeth graze along your jawline as he groans in pleasure, his pace never faltering as he uses your trembling body to push his own release.

Then he tenses every muscle, and with one final thrust, he comes in you, the ferocity of his movements leaving you helpless against the force of him.

He groans, deep and broken as he thrusts into you one last time, his release pulsing through you, his satisfaction undeniable as he claims you completely.

When he finally pulls back, he glides his cock out slowly, leaving you aching and weak against the wall

He’s breathless as he tucks himself away, fastening his pants with a precision that feels almost indifferent.

You’re left stunned and incoherent, your body a mess of pleasure and exhaustion as you catch your breath.

Stepping back, he loosens his silk tie and unbuttons his dress shirt with casual ease, a smirk playing on his lips as his sharp gaze rakes over your trembling body.

—She’s so entitled, insufferable at times, yes… but look at that face. Perfect. Flawless. Even as a spoiled brat she serves her purpose.

—The satisfaction of knowing she can give me exactly what I want keeps her useful to me—but nothing lasts forever, and when her purpose runs out, so will my patience.

Patrick’s eyes remain steady on yours for a moment before the familiar sharp smirk forms on his lips—it’s confident, seductive, and entirely just for you.

“Come, darling I’ll run you a bath,” he says casually as he walks away, his tone calm and composed, as if what just happened was the most natural thing in the world.

As he disappears into the master bedroom, you remain standing there your body still stunned, unable to deny the heat still coursing through you—and how much you hated —and loved seeing him lose control.

🔪 END

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[saturnzlv]

life makes echoes

— parings: todoroki touya x reader

— notes: mature language & like one sentence that’s suggestive. and i can’t write for shit IM SORRYYYYY. i haven’t written in eons, but bassist touya & making a switch city playlist has me hard.

— synopsis: when your boyfriend is a bassist, and you go to one of their practice sessions

♫ echoes by the rapture

“it’s nothing too bad,” touya tells you as he takes his bass guitar case out the backseat.

you’re too busy staring at the small family home in front of you to answer him—the attached garage is open with a drum setup visible as well as a few nicknacks. there’s two people inside, and you think you think you recognize one of them and vaguely remember the other.

touya shuts the car of his beat up ‘98 lexus es with his case in hand, then he gestures for you to walk up the driveway. “just think of it as your own private concert,” he says.

at that, you turn your head to look at him with an incredulous expression. “this is a pretty shitty first concert then,” you say.

he lets out an unamused and sarcastic laugh, rolling his eyes. “you’ll like it,” he affirms. lifting a hand, he points to a blond boy with eyeliner framing his amber irises then a light blue haired boy fiddling with his drumsticks and testing the sound of the symbols. “you’ve met keigo and tomura, yeah?”

keigo, the blond and the one you recognize, sits on the couch against the wall. he has a guitar propped up on his knee as his fingers pluck the strings and his left hand deftly fixes the pegs. as touya plugs his bass into a spare amp in tomura’s garage, keigo lifts his head to glance at touya.

“back in my first year of college, sure,” keigo says as he stands from the couch. “we were in the same modern japanese class.”

tomura eyes keigo with a slight furrow in his brows. “why do you remember that?” he asks, to which keigo shrugs.

cautiously taking a once over at the couch, you look over at tomura on the drums. you’ve heard his name and a few facts in passing from touya. “you must’ve been a second year, right?” you ask as you deem the couch clean enough to sit on. tomura nods in response, and he’s about to speak in reply when touya clicks the button to shut the garage door.

“what are you in the mood for?” touya asks, walking past the drums to stand in front of one of the two mic stands available, positioned a little in front and apart from the drums. he looks over his shoulder at tomura, his question directed to the youngest.

tomura taps the drumsticks against the symbols, getting a feel for some rhythm. you can sort of recognize the tune, and it gets more familiar when the bassline is added by touya. leaning back on the couch's surprisingly comfortable cushions, you await for your so-called “concert”.

however keigo doesn’t step up to the microphone. he instead lifts his hands in surrender. “wait, wait,” he calls, a hand settling on the mic stand as he turns to face his band members. the drummer and bassist cease their playing, and you’re pretty sure tomura’s already annoyed from keigo’s sudden pause. “we’ve already done dance, dance like seven times this week.”

“i thought you got off on singing and making out with the mic?” touya points with a slight glare. “this song is perfect for that shit.”

keigo waves touya off before he adjusts his hold on the guitar strapped around his neck. with a pick in hand, he strums a muted note in a fashioned rhythm. the drums pick up, and keigo steps up to the mic. his gaze shifts to touya as he sings the first drawn out ‘yeah’ of the song, giving him a glare with furrowed brows. he sings a second ‘yeah,’ and before he can continue singing, tomura quits the drums.

“are you just going to stand there?” tomura asks, and you have to stifle a laugh at his obviously annoyed tone.

“i wanna show off,” touya replies very pointedly. “you think i can show off to fuckin’ take me away? no. i can’t. play some better shit.”

with pursed lips and a steady glare, keigo presses his fingers to the fretboard once again and strums a few simple notes going low. tomura gently taps his sticks against the symbols as keigo plays the familiar beginning notes of echoes, and touya complies by adding the bassline.

“i hate this song,” keigo mutters, yet the mic picks up his words.

there’s a small, cocky grin on touya’s lips as his fingers dance down the fretboard of his bass, plucking the notes with ease. “too bad,” he tells his bandmate.

with your leg crossed over the other, you prop an elbow on the armrest and let your cheekbone rest against your fist. it’s the boys' first time showing off to a friend—that much is insanely obvious—and, despite having formed this shitty band just a few months ago, they play well together. tomura, only twenty, plays the percussion as if it were made for him. keigo’s voice sounds borderline angelic. touya’s damn well-versed with his fingers, you know that much.

your foot taps against the concrete flooring of the garage in tune with the drums. there’s no denying that the sound from the trio is pretty good, too. it’s probably good enough to put in your spotify playlist—not only as support for your boyfriend’s band, but because their sound is catchy.

once the song comes to an end, keigo steps away from the mic stand. there’s a small nod of approval from tomura after keigo shoots him a thumbs up.

touya sets his bass down on its stand in favor of walking up to you on the couch to gather your opinion. “so?” he asks, and he leans his hip against the couch’s armrest. his vibrant blue eyes peer down at you as you lift your head up to meet his gaze.

a hum of thought elicits from you, and you give him a small shrug. “not bad,” you say. touya gives you a disgruntled look, and you let out a soft laugh before lifting your head from your fist. “it was good,” you correct yourself.

that cocky grin returns to his lips, and he says, “not bad for a first concert, huh?”

if touya wasn’t the best at reading people, he would have missed that grimace that crossed your features. “let’s not go that far, babe,” you reply.

[periwinkleserulean]

𓂃 ࣪˖ ཐཋ ROOMMATE！dabi/t. touya x fem！reader

━━ trying to find an apartment while trying to save money is hard, thankfully someone saw your post and decided to message you！

━━ reader is indicated to be smaller than dabi, dabi is nicer here but lowkey one of "those" guys at school. dabi's personality was changed to be more laid back and less aggressive, so it's quite ooc. so if you want it to be canon go away this is my fic, my choice 😞.

━━ requests are open ！

ㅤTHE DOOR QUICKLY OPENED after you heard the music tone down, you were met with cerulean eyes looking down at you “Hey, come in.” the male moved to the side so you could get inside, you quickly did so and took in the sight of him. Dabi had pure white messy hair, he wore a white tank top that hugged his torso perfectly, he was wearing black sweatpants that hung loosely on his hips, he also had piercings on his face and ears. You decided to stop staring and looked at your surroundings.

ㅤ“That's the kitchen, obviously.” Dabi pointed at your guys’ left, the kitchen was mostly made out of marble and had silver accents. He walked a bit and pointed again “That's the living area, on the left that's my room, on the right would be your room. Both rooms have their own walk-in closets and bathrooms, so you don't need to have a race who gets to shower first. Lastly, the one in the middle is both the storage and laundry room.”

ㅤHe kept pointing to the directions of the rooms, it was simple but the apartment itself was quite large, even if you just stood in the hallway you'd be able to see the majority of the interior. “Geez, your apartment is quite fancy, kinda worried for how much all of this costs.” You felt a bead of sweat drop from your face. “Don't be, I pay for most of the rent depending on my roommate. How much can you afford?” “Uhm,, like ¥50,000. max.” “Then I'll pay for 75%. Not like it'll damage my pockets or something.” Your eyes widen. “Isn't that unfair to you?” “Nah, So are you taking the place or what?”

ㅤYou thought about it, it was a pretty good deal and the place is amazing. “I'll take it, when can I move in?” “Anytime, you can even move in right now, I don't really mind. I can even help you get your stuff and crap.” Your eyes light up at that, your place is filled with boxes since you were so ready to move and leave. “Really? Let's go back to my place then! Although I should warn you, I have a lot of stuff so get your back ready..” “There's nothing I can't handle [name].” The way your name rolled off his tongue made your spine feel tingly and cheeks warm, you watched Dabi get a coat and car keys from a rack hanger near the door. “Come on you slow-poke.” He called out, without looking behind him. You held onto your bag and walked to the door and exited the apartment with him.

ㅤDabi was walking in front of you while you followed, the both of you heading to the apartment's parking lot. He pressed a button on his keys and his car made a sound, a black Lexus LFA. “Y'know, your wealth is slowly intimidating me.” You lightly joked as he opened the car door for you, he huffed with a smile. “‘m used to it.” he said as he shrugged before closing your door after you got inside, he walked to the driver's side and got in too. “Go ahead and put in your address on the GPS.” You did as you were told while you felt the car get colder and colder by the moment. Your fingers softly pressing the buttons on the screen, and it lit up and showed coloured lines for directions. Dabi put the car on accelerate, and left the parking quickly. The ride was quiet, the sound of the engine revving and the air conditioner working filled the air.

ㅤ“So,, why'd you take on engineering?” You attempted to make small talk, he didn't answer immediately so it felt REALLY awkward. “Dunno, jus' felt right. What about you, why'd you take on your course?” you took a moment to think about your answer before speaking up “Parents, specifically my mom. I don't actually want to do my course.” you laughed to try and not dampen the mood. Dabi glanced at you before returning his eyes on the road. “I understand, my old man wanted me to take business management, but I was persistent with what I wanted so, that's that I guess.” You smile realizing that, atleast you and your new roommate had something in common, annoying parental units. The silence was back, but this time it wasn't as uncomfortable as before. It was nice.

ㅤ“YOU'VE REACHED YOUR DESTINATION.” you woke up from your small nap with a yawn and stretched out your arms before rubbing your back from the aching pain. “I didn't realize how far you lived.” you raised a brow and looked to your right, where Dabi was staring at you. “Is it really that far? I mean I guess it is since it takes two trains to get to University.” You said before getting out of the car, seeing your apartment. You opened the gate and got inside the premises with Dabi, and headed upstairs to your floor. You got to your door and took out your keys and unlocked it. The both of you went inside as you turned on the lights, a lightbulb slightly flickering before working properly. “Damn, your place is pretty small.” He teased, a raised brow and a smirk plastered on his face. “I'm pretty broke, I thought you already deciphered that.” You stare at him, deadpanned before you giggled slightly. “Come on, let's get started, I feel like we'll be at this for awhile..”

⟢ TIMESKIP. . . THE NEXT DAY ！

ㅤ“Dollface.” You felt a finger poke your cheek as you slept, but you ignored it. Until it kept poking you repeatedly. You sighed and opened your eyes slightly to see Dabi crouching in front of your bed. “Dabi? What are you doing in my room..” “We have orientation in a few hours, you should get ready.” You got up from your spot so fast “Really?! I thought that was next week!” “It is. Just wanted to say breakfast is ready.” “SERIOUSLY?!” “I'll meet you in the kitchen.” your new roommate yelled out as he exited your newly decorated room from last night.

ㅤYou got out of your room as you rubbed your eyes, smelling the freshly cooked food from the kitchen counter. You could see Dabi already munching on his breakfast, noticing your presence but not paying you any mind. You took a seat beside him and laid your head on the counter, barely fighting off your sleepiness. “Why'd you have to wake me up, it's so early...” “It's 1:00 pm.” You mumbled incoherent words, something along the lines that it's not breakfast anymore while Dabi chuckled deeply. “Come on and eat, the food'll get cold.” You slowly rose your head up from the counter and started getting your desired food along with your rice.

ㅤ“So, you excited for Uni?” Dabi asked, his mouth half full with food. “Not really, it's just another stressful year i have to endure.” You felt his eyes linger on you longer, before he made a humming sound of acknowledgement. “What did'ya wanna take anyway?” “Oh, nothing. I didn't really think I'd get this far in my life, kinda expected I'd die or something.” You huffed out a gentle chuckle as a smirk adorned your lips.

ㅤ“For a gal like you I didn't expect you to be dark like that.” Dabi snickered, before standing up and washing his dishes. “I'm going to the grocery store, want anything? My treat, since I doubt you can afford it.” He teased, you looked at him offended before agreeing with the insult. “Some sweets would be nice, and chips.” “Got it, any kind in particular?” you told him which ones you wanted, before he said bye and left.

𓂃 ࣪˖ 𝓕rom me ！⟢ i love this man

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ©periwinkleserulean - All rights reserved. No work shall be reproduced, modified, translated without permission and proper credit; reblogs and likes are appreciated

[daisybianca]

“please leave a comment if you want a second part!”

AS IF WE’D EVER SAY NO. PLS BLESS W A PART TWO🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

pairing: lewis hamilton x femalereader

summary: lewis gives you secretly his number. you're hesitant to call him at first, but when you do, things get a little much more interesting.

warnings: cursing words, sexual thoughts

(a/n): here's the previous part 1! Here's the next and last one, part 3!

BLINDING FLASHING lights appeared, and glancing out of the window, you very discreet (not at all) black car parking just at the entrance of your apartment. A few moments later, horn sounds reached your ear, making your stomach swirl nervously around.

Were you really doing this?

"Live some adventure," the voice of your best friend mumbled into your mind, reminding you that sometimes you get to have some fun in order to forget work and responsibilities.

You chose to wear a pink, sliky dress that felt perfect on your curves and skin.

You grabbed your white purse and rushed out, locking the door behind you.

You weren't brave enough to look directly at the car once you were out, but when you turned around to walk towards it, a figure had already stepped out of it.

Lewis' dark eyes rised and then he took a double look at you. Then smiled.

"Hey, love," Lewis mumbled as he came in front of you, and you could swear that his lips had landed to your glossy lips for a brief moment, which by the way seemed like an eternity to you.

"Hey," you smiled widely. (Brushing your teeth almost 10 times before the date was surely tiring, so you had to show off your perfectly white smile, right?)

"You look..." Lewis scanned you from head to toes momentarily. "Ravishing."

A small laughter escaped from your lips. "I love your vocabulary."

"Oh, thank you, love," he gently grabbed your hand and helped you down the stairs. He was swearing a total white outfit, complimenting his tanned skin and making his multiple tattoos stand out more.

Your best friend was totally right. You didn't know if Greek Gods were actually real, but if they were, one of them had to had his name.

Lewis Hamilton.

He opened the door for you, and when you entered, murmuring a small 'thank you', he shut it gently and moved around the car to reach the other door.

The car was fabulously luxurious and looked ridiculously like its owner. Pretty, deluxe and fancy, and surely fast as hell.

The other door closed, and Lewis' masculine aroma filled your nostrils brutally. You couldn't exactly place the brand of the perfume, but it was something like a masculine mixture of heaven and perfection.

"Do you like fast cars?" Lewis asked, fastening his belt.

"Um, I own a grumpy Lexus that even my 11-year-old nephew could beat in a race." You joked, and he immediately burst into laughter. It was rather inevitable to smile back. "It's not that I don't like speed... it's just that... I'm kind of scared."

"Scared?" Lewis asked, raising his dark eyebrows in curiosity.

"Not for me, of course." You said. "I'm too young to rot into prison because of driving over a dozen of people."

Lewis smiled. "Well, I think you're just with the right person." He spoke, and the engine growled furiously as it came to life.

"Hey, this car is truly awesome, you know," you scratched the bare skin of your exposed thigh, and oh, holy shit, Lewis peered at it for a moment that stretched for what seemed like, FOREVER.

"Yeah, I know," He caressed the steering wheel. "I should name her. Any good ideas?"

You bit your bottom lip, fighting the urge to suggest your name.

"I need something that sounds elegant and pretty." He clarified and turned to face you.

His eyes burned on your skin as you gazed out of the window, hoping that his stare would cease being that intense and fuckable.

"What about Bella or Alice?" You suggested, bringing into mind your sister's twins.

Lewis seemed to think about it for a second. "Nah, too basic." He spoke a few moments later. "I'm sure you'll have a better suggestion until the end of the night."

The car stopped moving, and you got rid of your seat belt.

The ride was full of side intense glances, awfully hot compliments of his that drove you to insanity, and lots, lots of flirting.

"Is this your only car apart from the F1 one?" You asked as he opened the door for you to step out.

A true gentleman.

"No," he said. "Just one of 'em."

You turned around, and a massive building fulled your vision. It was a huge mansion that screamed mafia-boss-on-wattpad, and made your knees feel weak.

You waited for him in order to start strolling towards the house, but when he stepped next to you, his hand gently found yours and wrapped tightly around it.

You looked at your intertwined fingers, and he smiled. "My house has a ridiculously big amount of stairs. I don't want you falling from date one, do I?" He joked. If the tension of the eye contact was palpable, then physical touch was going to be the very end of you.

"So... I suppose you don't like holding my hand, right? It's all about safety." You fake rolled your eyes at the last sentence and hoped he noticed.

"Don't expose me like that, love." Lewis said, his British accent bold and alive.

When you got inside, you almost fainted and permanently lost your vision. Everything was cleaned to perfection. You could practically utilize the floor as a mirror to see if your pink dress was well-ironed.

"Do you like it?" Lewis asked, abandoning his car keys on a counter.

"Nah, too shiny and pretty." You joked.

"Yeah, just like you." He responded from behind, and your cheeks changed a pallette of five different shades of red.

You turned to face him directly. "I love it."

He smiled and walked towards a miny bar next to a massive kitchen. You noticed that his intoxicating cologne had been replaced by the smell of freshly cooked food. Looking a few feet away, mouth-watering food was placed on a dinner table.

He cooked?

"Red or white wine?" Lewis asked, interrupting your thoughts.

"Red." You replied. "But I swear, I'm a Mercedes fan."

He laughed and grabbed a bottle, reading something oj it at first. Then, he opened it and walked towards the dinner table, placing it on it.

He dragged one chair and let you sit.

When he did too, you chose to ask, "Where's Roscoe?"

"To a friend's," he replied. "I left him there because I didn't know if you liked dogs."

"You sent him away because of me?" You laughed. "Everyone loves dogs!"

He let out a breath before stating, "I didn't want you to be uncomfortable."

You shrugged. "It's fine. I just... I wanted to meet him. I think he's cute."

Lewis filled your empty glass with tasteful red liquid. "Good for me. Seems like I'm inviting you to dinner till you meet him." He said, innocently looking away.

Fuck.

This man was going to be the end of you.

[xander-voight]

The dull hum of fluorescent lights filled the cramped room, casting a clinical glow over the surroundings.

Xander was slouched against the cool metal of his chair. His gaze was fixed on the lone clock hung on the wall; his fingers drummed against the table in time with the seconds ticking by. It was nearing 6 AM. Soon his phone would buzz with text after text from Gemma inquiring over his whereabouts.

Not that he would be able to read them.

He’d been sitting there for the better part of an hour – waiting. His personal belongings had been taken before he was unceremoniously thrust into the interrogation room with a gruff A detective will be in shortly sent his way.

If he were a sane man, he would feel nervous. He’d been caught unaware. Found in a stolen car at a drop-off location with his backpack filled with incriminating evidence.

But he was relaxed. His head lolled back, and his eyes closed – yielding to the exhaustion he felt.

Tired eyes peaked open as the door swung to reveal a detective on the other side. He walked in and sat himself across the table in the only available chair. Xander slowly lifted his head and straightened in the seat; the metal of his chair scraped loudly against the linoleum floor as he shifted forward.

The detective sighed and popped open the folder in front of him before clearing his throat. “Let’s start from the beginning, Alex,” Detective Bishop began, his voice low and authoritative. “Tell me what happened.”

Xander’s gaze flickered between Detective Bishop and the two-way mirror behind him, his reflection cloaked in indifference. “Like I already told the officers,” Xander muttered and raised his shoulders in a shrug. “This is just a misunderstanding. Classic case of wrong place, wrong time.”

The detective leaned forward; gaze fixed on Xander and his expression unyielding. “You were found inside of a silver Lexus. Officer Danes made contact with the registered owner who verified it was stolen sometime after they returned home – around 1 AM.”

“I was walking by and I saw it parked there. The door was wide open, and no one was around so I got in to see what was up,” Xander explained slowly, his tone measured. “I didn’t know curiosity was a crime.”

“So, you were just a concerned citizen,” Detective Bishop offered in faux understanding. Xander nodded his head in agreement, muttering a quick “Yeah, yeah – exactly.”

“Tell me, do you normally carry around a bunch of key fobs?” The detective's voice trailed off as his eyes skimmed over the details outlined on the sheet. “And it says here you had various tools on you?”

“I’m a mechanic,” Xander countered. “I always have tools on me.”

“You had what appears to be a signal manipulator,” Detective Bishop interrupted, his tone rising in volume to drown out Xander’s explanation. “Is that a normal tool for a mechanic to use?”

Xander’s mouth opened to answer, but the detective quickly cut him off. “If you ask me, none of this looks good for you, Alex.”

Silence filled the room.

Xander hesitated. His eyes narrowed slightly for a beat before he finally grinned and leaned forward. Detective Bishop raised an eyebrow, prompting Xander to speak. “I think it’s time I talked to a lawyer,” Xander uttered with a laugh. He leveled the detective with a stare – questioning. “I get a phone call, right?”

The detective gave him a second look before standing. With a brief nod of his head, he headed out of the interrogation room leaving Xander in the quiet once more.

+

“Hello?”

Xander sighed.

“Hey, uhhh… it’s Xander. I don’t have a lot of time, but can you be a good brother-in-law and break it to Bea that I need her to call up that lawyer we know? And uhhh… you think you can get to a bank? I might need some bail money.”

[livwritesstuff]

2002, established relationship, dads!steddie living in boston with their 1yo daughter, another excerpt of this bc i think it's my actual fav part

“I’m done with this goddamn city,” Ed yelled up the stairs, “So fuckin’ serious, Steve. I’m out.”

Steve sighed, well-acquainted with this one of Ed’s many tirades.

Just as he was standing up from where he’d been sitting at his desk looking over some notes and prepping for a counseling session later that afternoon, he heard the door shut loudly (though not a full slam, he noted, because Ed had Moe with him). He headed out into the hallway in time to see Ed coming up the stairs, Moe balanced in one arm.

“What happened now?” Steve asked.

“An idiot BU kid driving Daddy’s Lexus almost T-boned me with Moe in the backseat because — apparently — red lights are just a fucking suggestion here.”

“I mean…I’m pretty sure you ran every red light in Hawkins when you were nineteen.”

It wasn’t a helpful comment, per se, and Steve knew that, but when Ed was riled up like this, there really weren’t any helpful comments available.

“That’s entirely different,” Ed countered, passing Moe over to him so he could pull off his own jacket, “There’s, like, six people on the road at any given moment in Hawkins, and two traffic lights.”

“Okay, well, we can move, love,” Steve said tiredly, steadily approaching his limit for how many times he could listen to Eddie rant about this particular issue without taking any sort of real action to solve it, “Nobody said we had to stay in Boston. Also — we can actually afford to buy a house now, so…”

“Wha— we can?”

“A down payment, yeah.”

“The fuck is a downpayment?”

“Uh…” Steve paused. He’d long since become comfortable with his role in his and Ed’s finances — being that he’s almost entirely in charge of them. He knew that Ed had grown up worrying about money in a way that Steve never had to so he actually liked being able to take over that part of their life together. He liked being able to let Ed not think about it (even though sometimes it meant that his thirty-five-year-old life partner asked him what a goddamn down payment was), “It’s kind of like putting a security deposit down on an apartment, except instead of for securing a lease, it’s for securing a loan — sort of. That’s…there’s better ways of explaining it, and there’s a lot more to it, but it’s sort of like we’re paying a certain amount of the mortgage upfront to prove that we’re committed to paying it off month-to-month.”

“How much is it?”

“Depends,” Steve shrugged, running a hand over Moe’s hair as she started to doze off, her head drooping down to rest on his shoulder, “Pretty sure twenty percent is considered, like, ideal, or something, so it all comes down to what our budget is.”

“What’s our budget?”

Steve leveled an eyebrow at him.

“What?” Ed asked.

“Do you actually wanna know? Because when I tried to show you our electric bill last week you pretended to be asleep.”

“Uh — buying a fuckin’ house together is totally different from you reprimanding me about leaving the heat on too long.”

“I don’t think I’d have to reprimand you anymore if you saw the electric bill.”

“Okay — yes, Stevie, I actually would like to be involved in our finances just this once because I care very, very deeply about us buying a house. I really do.”

“Alright,” he replied, knowing he still sounded a tad skeptical, “I mean, if you actually wanna know about this stuff, I’ve got some spreadsheets I’ve been using to keep track of that kind of thing, and we can—”

“Baby, if you wanted to talk about spreading sheets, all you had to do was ask,” Ed grinned wickedly, an expression that slowly began to fade as his eyes slid off of Steve’s and onto the opposite wall, probably as he considered how wise a comment that had been to make.

Steve stared at him for a long while.

“Okay,” he finally said, “I’m gonna go put our child down for a nap. If in that time you decide you can be a grownup while we talk about spending a fuck-load of money on property we’ll own and be entirely responsible for, let me know.”

“You got it, man.” 

[autogloaustralia]

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[classicsubliminalbo]

Barbara's Mind Controlled Christmas

Originally published Dec 18, 2013

If there was a naughty list, Barbara was on it. She hadn't received a contract with Victoria's Secret, but she'd walked in the fashion show, done the photoshoots, and shot the commercials. She was one of Victoria's Secret's rising stars, and she loved every minute of it. Posing when the paparazzi was around, breaking up celebrity relationships, seducing wealthy men. Barbara immersed herself into every aspect of the high rolling lifestyle. When she wasn't working for Victoria's Secret or walking some runway in Paris, she was at a club, getting wasted and having hot evenings of anonymous sex. Modeling was, in short, the perfect way to feed Barbara's nymphomania.

"Oh, oh god, Harry! Harry!" Barbara moaned as her lover shoved her against the cold wall of the cramped janitor's closet. Barbara frowned as he pulled out. "Why'd you stop?" "It's Henry," the guy said. "My name, it's Henry." "Just shut up and fuck me!" she cried, pulling Henry closer. "Okay, okay, sorry... Just... Could you be a little quieter? Someone could catch us." "That's what makes it so hot," Barbara playfully whispered into Henry's ear. "Yeah but... You're a model, if you get caught, people idolize you. If I get caught, I get fired. I depend on this job, Barbara." "Listen to me, Hagrid," Barbara said, her voice lowering. "I don't screw a lot of lighting guys, so maybe you don't realize, but this is kind of a big moment for you. I mean, I can have sex with just about anyone I want. So unless you don't want to have undoubtedly the best sex of your life with Barbara fucking Palvin, then I suggest you keep fucking me before I get bored." "God you're so hot," Henry said, continuing. "It's Henry, by the way." "Whatever," Barbara moaned.

Barbara left the closet with her hair a mess and her bra strap slipping down her shoulder. She really didn't care who knew about her sexual exploits, she was actually kind of proud of it. She readjusted her bra and slipped her robe back on, returning to work where she was filming a commercial for Victoria's Secret. She could tell from the looks the other models gave her that they knew what she'd been up to, which just made her feel even hotter. Who else had the balls to fuck Horace the lighting guy in a janitor's closet?

It was late by the time the shoot ended, and Barbara headed to the parking garage to find her car and return to her hotel where she hoped to get some sleep for the busy day ahead of her. In the garage, she was greeted by the familiar face of Doutzen Kroes, who seemed to be inspecting her car. "Hey, Doutzen, um... What are you doing?" Barbara asked. "You drive a Lexus," Doutzen observed. "Yeah... I do... What are you wearing?" Barbara couldn't help but stare at Doutzen, who looked absolutely ridiculous in red Christmas lingerie. "You look like a sexy elf." "It's Christmas, Barbara. My outfit spreads holiday cheer to all of those who have forgotten the spirit of Christmas." "Okay, you're high or something. Just get away from my car so I can get out of here." "I am high on Christmas cheer, Barbara," Doutzen smiled. "My body now belongs to the Christmas spirit. I must spread this feeling so that everyone may enjoy Christmas as well." "Whaaaat the hell is going on?" Barbara asked, pretty certain that Doutzen was on a bad trip. Doutzen didn't reply. She lifted her pointer finger and placed it upon Barbara's forehead. From the tip of Doutzen's finger, Barbara started to feel a strange sensation as her head grew numb. She opened her mouth to protest, but no words came out. Her eyes crossed as her mouth went slack while Doutzen scanned her mind.

"Oh dear..." Doutzen said, removing her finger. "You've been so naughty, Barbara." "Naughty..." Barbara drooled. "You're selfish, you've never done anything for anyone else. You love to indulge in alcoholic beverages and sexual intercourse. You don't even care that it's Christmastime, you just care about pleasure. But giving on Christmas is the greatest pleasure, Barbara." "Pleeasure?" Barbara asked. "Yes, Barbara, pleasure. You like pleasure, don't you?" "I doo..." "I can share the pleasure of the Christmas spirit with you, if you want." "Yesss..."

Doutzen leaned in to kiss Barbara, and though the girl didn't expect this, she found herself kissing Doutzen back. This wasn't the first time that Barbara had kissed a woman, but there was certainly something different about kissing Doutzen. Barbara could feel something moving between them, as Doutzen transferred part of the Christmas spirit into Barbara's body.

Doutzen stepped back to observe her newly converted subject. Barbara's eyes glowed green in the dark parking garage, and a stupid smile was starting to spread on her face. "Are you alright, dear?" Barbara giggled, "I'm okay, Doutzy. I just feel guilty for being so naughty." "It's okay, honey. You can make it up to me by spreading Christmas joy." "Uh, duh! That's like, my only reason for existing." Barbara giggled. "Good! We'll have to get you a cute little Christmas outfit, but then we can get started."

[stripedstarsblueflags]

i feel so high school (au) pt. 5.C: pierresteban

anyway here are some high school aus for my fav f1 rpf ships and an exploration of who knows how to ball, and who knows aristotle

(pierresteban continued)

ANYWAY so after that particular dance both of their heads are just like !!??!!??!! until finally they're both outside the studio and esteban starts walking away immediately and pierre– actually yknow what i'm gonna write a bit how the conversation more or less goes

p: hey. esteban. ESTIE!

e (whirling around): don't FUCKING call me that! .... what?!

p: hey, can... can we talk?

e (mind exploding in anger and frustration and confusion and need to retreat): i have nothing to say to you. –– and i need to catch the bus.

p: this late?

e (scoffs): yeah, sorry, my lexus is in the shop.

p: i can give you a ride...

and because esteban is shellshocked and not thinking straight and tired and fine maybe he's weak to his own stupid imagination he says yes. and esteban can't decide if it's creepy or achingly sweet that pierre remembers where his house is and doesn't make a single wrong turn or ask for directions once. and then they just sit in the parked car far enough down the street that esteban's parents couldn't see and just stare straight ahead and the silence stretches on with everything they haven't said confessed screamed at each other for years until pierre just mumbles in the most broken voice esteban has heard since they were kids and pierre's dog died

he tells esteban what happened, why he missed school. what he lost.

and the conversation is awkward and hesitant and walking on broken glass because they haven't had an actual sit-down conversation alone for years but esteban knows instinctively like this is killing him. after all this time i'm still the only person he trusts with the fractured pieces of his heart and he has to fucking tell someone because this is destroying him inside and maybe he just reaches out and puts his hand on the console in between the seats so it's there if pierre wants it and pierre does

pierre just reaches over and closes his eyes and takes esteban's hand and squeezes it and they're both pretending like pierre's face isn't shining with tears that glint in the flickering street lights and there's more silence but this time it's different, it feels like they're both thinking the exact same thing but both too scared

e: it's getting late...

p: yeah, yeah, sorry. you should probably go. (draws his hand away)

e: looks down at his own empty hand, then at the car door handle: yeah.

[waiting]

before he can chicken out esteban leans over and kisses pierre on the cheek before he says goodnight and then he gets out of the car

and in the following weeks they don't know how to talk to each other but they both know that something's going on, there's a spark catching and they're both terrified of the light but irrepressibly drawn to the heat. maybe they both sign up for an hour or so of empty studio time a week to practice and maybe there's only one studio available that late at night and they both know it. maybe they do more partner routines maybe they do the same choreo maybe they watch each other in the mirror for a little too long. pierre drives esteban home every week and then it gets to the point where he picks esteban up from class even on the days pierre doesn't have class himself and they start finding places around town that become their places just at night. places they remember. a park, a 7-11, a hiking trail, a waffle house (because nothing says teenage queer romance like waffle house)

esteban gets selected for the solo routine in that year's recital and the first time he practices his routine on stage/in full costume it's just him and pierre and pierre watches cross-legged from the very edge of the stage and when esteban finally finished pierre stands up and he's openly crying, and esteban's out of breath and dizzy from dancing his fucking heart out and he just gasps like, "what?" because even after everything he's never seen pierre look at him like that and pierre just shakes his head in shock and awe and murmurs, "you're beautiful"

we all know what happens after that

[sonsofichor]

The Mark of Wolves - Red Rising fic

Synopsis

All my people sing of are memories. And so I will remember this death. It will burden me as it does not burden my fellow students—I must not let that change. I must not become like them. I’ll remember that every sin, every death, every sacrifice, is for freedom.

But Darrow forgets. He forgets everything. Red, Gold, the mines, the Sons of Ares, his mission, his family, his purpose, his dreams, his past. Eo. So what does Darrow become?

Drabble I: Darrow

He tells me his name is Cassius. Cassius au Bellona.

“Cassius,” I repeat, hoping that at least the taste of his name would bring me some familiarity. It doesn’t.

“Do you remember me?”

I study him—his golden curls, his shining eyes, the cleft in his chin. He’s a boy on the cusp of adulthood, a young man of infinite beauty. He’s not someone you can easily forget. And yet, the sight of him sparks nothing. “Should I?”

He flinches. I didn’t mean to hurt him. You shouldn’t hurt young, beautiful things. He waves away my hesitant apology and calls me Darrow. Darrow au Andromedus. It leaves me indifferent.

I sit cross-legged with my back against the wall. Cassius mirrors my position across from me, and next to him is a slight long-haired boy who’s kept silent until now. He leans forward. “I’m Roque au Fabii,” he says and when that, too, gets nothing from my side, he asks, “What about your family? Your parents? Your home?”

I frown in concentration.

Cassius perks up. “You’re from Yorkton. Your mother’s name was Lexus, I believe.”

I shrug.

"And your father... Your father's name, I mean..." Trailing off, he turns to Roque for help, but all Roque does is shake his head. It’s clear none here knows me all that well.

Roque sighs, “It seems you’ve lost your memories.”

I feel lost.

I woke up surrounded by forgotten faces and with no idea who I am or who I’m supposed to be. Questions tumble through my brain, the next one louder than the one before.

They try to explain the situation succinctly.

It’s our third day at the Institute on Mars,

So, I’m trapped in the savage wilderness, where society has been reduced to young Golds giving in to their primal instincts, and I don't even know what Gold is supposed to mean.

“I do wonder sometimes,” Roque begins after Cassius has recovered, “as to the purpose of all this. How can this be the most efficient method of testing our merit, of making us into beings who can rule the Society?”

“And do you ever come to a conclusion?” Cassius asks.

“They have us here because this valley was humanity before Gold ruled. Fractured. Disunited even in our very own tribe. They want us to go through the process that our forefathers went through. Step by step, this game will evolve to teach us new lessons. Hierarchies within the game will develop. We’ll have Reds, Golds, Coppers.”

“Pinks?” Cassius asks hopefully.

“I … don’t know about Pinks,” Roque says. The idea of a Gold being a Pink offends him. I don’t know enough to form an opinion. “But … the rest is simple. This is a microcosm of the Solar System.”

Roque notices my blank look. “Darrow… do you know what the Society is? The colors?”

I shake my head. “What’s a Pink?”

Roque snorts.

Cassius buries his face in his hands.

…

Roque is finishing his summary of  the Red class when he’s interrupted by two pairs of voices and pounding feet. The girls have returned.

“Has he woken up?” is the first question the shorter girl asks as she steps through the doorway.

The lean, long-limbed girl that follows closely behind her, whistles. “Wow, that looks gorydamn nasty!”

She means the wound on the side of my head—a horizontal, freshly stitched and swollen scar. Nine stitches. Cassius is in the middle of cleaning it with salt water.

I stare at them, suddenly conscious of the fact that I’m wearing nothing but my underwear under the light blanket. Cassius said they’d washed them and hung them to dry in the sun outside.

"What?" asks the lean girl.

"What?" I say.

"What?" she repeats.

Cassius lifts his eyes to heaven. "Great ancestors, spare me."

"He doesn't remember you, Quinn. Or anyone, for that matter." Roque clears his throat. “We believe he suffers from amnesia.”

“Believe?” Cassius gives a harsh laugh. “He doesn’t recall his mother from Jove. It’s a fact, my goodman.”

Quinn gapes. "Nothing?"

"Not a gorydamn truth," Cassius says. I admire how his hands stay steady and gentle despite his heated tone. "We just had to explain to him what the Society is."

Quinn gapes some more.

The short-haired girl brings me a cup of water. “Little sips,” she advises, smiling kindly. She introduces herself as Lea.

“We were deciding who was right to lead us. The discussion quickly devolved into . Titus waited until we had our backs turned.” He nearly growls. “The coward.”

“What happened exactly,” I ask him, “Cassius?” But he remains tight-lipped, the anger obvious in the way he works his jaw. He finishes putting the bandages in place, squeezes the back of my neck and leaves the room. 

We stare after him.

“Did I do something?”

Lea shakes her head. “You should eat your berries, Darrow. You need the energy.” 

After some hesitation, I fall upon them. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.

Quinn takes over. “We were leaving. Titus grabbed the standard and attacked. Caught you—” she points at my temple, the wet spot underneath the bandages, “Right there.”

“I saw it all happen. Titus was aiming for Cassius,” sweet-featured Lea adds, “You saved him, Darrow. You pushed him out of the way, left yourself open. That’s how Titus got you.” She shivers. “Your blood splattered all over us. It was everywhere. We thought you’d died.”

“It was chaos,” Quinn agrees, her gaze faraway. “We fought like hell. Cassius threw himself at Titus with a roar. I grabbed a chair and started swinging at anyone who came close. Got Vixu-something in the chest. He was down for the count after that. Lea did the maddest thing. She hit and bit Titus’s hand until he dropped the banner.” She laughs when Lea blushes. “By then, you’d recovered enough for us to retreat. Roque knew a shortcut through the empty stables. Cassius’d left Titus’s face a gory mess and we covered our retreat.”

“I can’t believe I forgot the standard,” Lea groans, hiding her face in her hands. 

“At least you remembered to grab us some grub instead. I carried that chair out of the gorydamn castle!”

They devolve into giggles.

Roque finishes quietly. “You passed out after a mile. Cassius carried you the rest of the way here. You were unconscious for twenty-seven hours. The rest is history.”

It’s strange how that sentence is true, especially for me. My history boils down to the past hours spent in their company. Anything before that is an empty void.

Cassius walks back in and throws a pile of damp black and gold fatigues on my lap. He seems in an even worse mood than before, although none of his ire is directed at us. “Darrow, get ready, my goodman. Proctor Mars wants a word with you.”

[austinbutlerslovers]

Upcoming Austin Butler as Patrick Bateman Excerpt :

Inspo: Austin Butler portraying Patrick Batemen as a psycho in upcoming film adaptation 🫠 this pic 📸 and a dozen DMs 💌

Under the Mistletoe

The Waldorf Astoria’s Christmas gala is dazzling, a picture perfect scene of Manhattan excess. Everything sparkles: lights, dresses, diamonds, and you thrive in it. You’re the darling of the Upper East Side tonight, flitting between friends and admirers, your laughter bright and carefree. Patrick watches you from across the room, leaning against the bar in his Tom Ford tuxedo, a glass of champagne in hand.

He is the epitome of perfection. Chiseled features, every muscle precisely defined under his tailored suit, and sharp, cold blue eyes that command attention. The lights from the Christmas tree reflect off his perfectly groomed hair, making him look almost ethereal. But beneath the surface, his mind churns.

She’s exhausting. Beautiful, yes, but insufferable tonight. How much longer can I keep this up?

You’re chatting animatedly with a group of friends, oblivious to the way his gaze pierces through you. When you glance his way, you catch his sharp smirk, and your heart skips. You love that smirk—it’s confident, seductive, and just for you.

“Patrick, come here!” you call, waving him over. The group makes room for him, and he steps in smoothly, placing a possessive hand on your lower back.

Now under the mistletoe, someone teases, “Oh, Patrick, you know the rule!”

Patrick’s grin widens. “I don’t follow rules,” he quips, pulling you close to him. His lips press to yours, firm and commanding, eliciting a chorus of playful cheers. But the kiss isn’t sweet. It’s a performance, sharp and calculated, and you feel it.

Later, as the party winds down, you’re in the car heading back to Patrick’s penthouse. The silence is heavy. You’re perched in the passenger seat of his immaculate Lexus, prattling on about holiday plans, your friends vacations, and what you want for Christmas.

“And Sophie is spending New Year’s in St. Barts—ugh, can you imagine? It’s so cliche to flaunt it like that,” you chatter, oblivious to his mounting frustration.

Patrick’s jaw tightens, his cold gaze fixed on the road ahead. 

I should pull over. Quiet her. Permanently. The way she talks, her voice, that incessant laugh—it grates. But not yet. Not tonight. Keep the mask on.

“Are you even listening to me, Patrick?” you pout, crossing your arms.

He pulls into the parking garage, kills the engine, and steps out of the car without answering. You’re left fuming as he strides toward the elevator, leaving you to follow.

His penthouse is immaculate—gleaming marble floors, sleek minimalist furniture, and floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city. Patrick removes his jacket, draping it over a chair with deliberate precision. You, still sulking, remove your fur coat and kick off your heels tossing your handbag onto the couch.

“Are you going to ignore me all night?” you demand, your voice sharp with irritation.

Patrick turns, his cold gaze locking onto you. “You’re such a spoiled brat,” he says evenly, his tone devoid of warmth.

You blink, stunned. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he says, stepping closer. His presence overwhelming, and for the first time, a flicker of unease crosses your mind.

“The whining, the entitlement, the need for constant attention—it’s exhausting, darling,” he says, his tone sharp and cutting.

You open your mouth to retort, but Patrick is already on you, his hands gripping your arms as he pushes you against the entry wall. His movements are firm bordering on violent as he holds you in place his face inches from yours.

“Patrick, you’re scaring me,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“Good,” he says, his smirk cold and dangerous. “Maybe you should be scared.”

🔗 Under the Mistletoe Available (ofc smut) Brat x Bateman

[labelleizzy]

Morrigan Visits Hobby Lobby

That morning, they should

have paid attention to the woman

washing blood off the Lexus

in the parking lot.

The doors bang open to the conference room

with a gesture from Her long thin fingers

and walks inside with a wild wind

snatching at papers, swirling the toupees

but somehow not ruffling

a single feather of Her

long cloak of ravenblack.

"Did you think" She says

"that I would not know what you are doing?"

They all see stars; these godly men and women

for a moment, so bright and burning

their eyes water and

they find themselves in

the ribbon aisle.

She shakes one marble arm from the cloak

sweeps sideways with Her hand

a thousand cawing crows fill the air

the ribbons start slithering

and entwine their feet

with the fear of a teenage girl

caught between

the baby and the coat hanger

"Did you think I would not know what you are doing to

My daughters and sons?" She says

a rain of pink and yellow kitty buttons ping off their heads

each stinging pain

a mother struggling to feed two children

afraid a third

will starve them all

"My daughters and sons and mothers and fathers

and nieces and nephews will not forget" says She

zebrastriped ottomans slam into them

with the blows to the gut

of endometriosis gone out of control

the bleeding endlessly into anemia

dizziness dropping them to their knees

cramps as if their guts are being drawn

and wrapped around trees

"Sons of the hounds, She cries,

COME HERE AND GET MEAT!"

Finn MaCool and Herne sweep in at the head

of caroling, slavering gabrielhounds

and the wind's roaring is so loud they think

their ears will explode and the crashing

of painted crystal and flower vases is

the continous roar of the ocean

they are cut with a thousand tiny shards of glass

their faces all scratches and tiny tears of blood streaming

puking up with fear

like 8 hours after Plan B

feet anchored to the floor with

layer after layer of Disney stickers

and terror of the Phantom Queen

"My children choose," says She.

"Not you. Not in My name

not in My dominion"

not for My daughters and sons and mothers and fathers and lovers

not for My children and My non-children

they are Mine and you shall not interfere in My name

the battles they fight are Ours and sacred

no matter what they decide, My children are blessed"

they can hear Her voice like dreadful bells

clear right through the hurricane

up under the suspended ceiling

the tiles rippling like an earthquake

dust and glitter swirling through the air

so thick the light is gray

She sweeps back Her cloak

both hands palms down

there is a silence that rings as loud as Her voice

the hounds and the heroes file neatly out the

automatic doors that crunch across

the broken glass

The Battle Crow eyes the board members

one by one with bright black eyes

stripping them down

to their profits and loss

their knees shaking

like they had worked eighteen hours

on an assembly line making wreaths and bows

for a dollar a day

"Do not invoke god in your decisions for your fellow folk," She says

"until you know Who will answer."

--Kate Holly-Clark, 2014