#summer full sleeve t-shirts

[trendybucket]

Minimalist Mastery: Clean-cut Men's Full Sleeve Tops

Men's full-sleeve t-shirts are flexible wardrobe staples that combine style and comfort. They're ideal for any season, providing extra coverage and warmth while retaining a sleek and modern appearance. Long Sleeve T-shirts come in a range of materials, colors, and designs and may be dressed up or down for casual trips, business, or sporting activities. Whether you choose classic solids, bold prints, or minimalist designs, there is a full sleeve t-shirt to suit your own style and occasion.

[retiredteabag]

winter weight

synopsis: toji has gained some weight this winter - it seems you don’t mind

this is part two -> read about summer!toji here

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

It's said that "happy weight" is a very real thing in healthy relationships. Toji had always prided himself on being a big man, he worked out frequently and ate like a beast. But his physique has mostly remained the same impressive form. This winter, however, seemed to have changed that for the very first time.

Toji had noticed these past few days that he'd seemed to have put on a couple of pounds. His shirts were tighter now than they used to be, some of his sleeves seemed to almost cut off circulation, and with a quick feel of his stomach, it was clear that his body was... softening up.

He was not "insecure" per say, just- not in love with his newly added weight. He found himself pulling at the flesh of his stomach, not accustomed to the added fat and he barely walked around the house shirtless as of late.

You'd comment on this newfound modesty of his and he'd play it off as if he had been cold, but you know that your man couldn’t get cold, even in this winter weather.

One afternoon as you both lounged on the couch, you saw him pulling at the front of his T-shirt, flowing it out and away from his body. He didn't seem to be doing it intentionally, eyes focused on the television, but you certainly noticed.

That night he even went to bed with a shirt on which might just have been the very first time he's ever done that in his life.

You went to bed with this notion on your mind. The thing was... the man was totally irresistible to you, so you couldn't quite understand if he was suddenly worrying about his figure.

Toji always awoke before you did in the mornings. When you heard him in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, you stumbled out of bed and came up behind him, wrapping your arms around his form.

Toji is a big guy, he always has been. Only now you notice, when holding the man’s torso, your two arms barely reach around to the mans abs now…

You hum as you feel him up, and he doesn't push you away. Once upon a time you would have tried to tickle his sides, but having been around Toji for awhile now, you know he's not the ticklish type. Even so, your cold hands dance under his shirt and grope at him.

"Too early, ya know." You murmur into his broad back. "Won'tcha come back to bed."

"Get yer paws off me" he jitters, "you're freezing." He turns around to look at you now, facing downwards to meet your tired pout.

"Come warm up with me then." You finish speaking. Smooshing your cheeks into his back muscles and opening your mouth to press up against him and breathe a lung full of hot air through his shirt. While the warmth meets his spine you roll your hands back to his pudgy tummy, his happy trail…

"Alright, alright." He grabs the back of your neck and walks you back to bed. When you're just about within throwing distance, he grabs you by the sides of your chest and tosses you onto the mattress.

In the following moments you curl yourself upon him, your body splayed above his. Giggling, you can't help your wandering hands. He's so warm, you know?

He grabs at your wrist though, "Enough, don't fondle me." His eyes are teasing but you wonder if he's starting to feel unhappy with his body.

"Can't help it, you’re so handsome, ya' know?"

You can feel his muscles tense below you at the confession. He runs a hand through his hair and avoids your eyes. "Thats a bad argument."

You just hum and squish your arms under his back, molding your body to his.

Suddenly he speaks up, "I wouldn't work out as much if I knew you still liked me all fluffy". You hear an annoyed tint in his tone and move up to look at him.

"I like you in all your forms, Toji." And you mean it.

"Ugh." He rolls his eyes at your words and pulls your hands away.

"Don't move me, you're so hot." You tug your wrists in his grasp.

His eyebrows raise

He holds your gaze for a long while, and lifting a brow he slowly speaks, "Get another blanket then."

You stare at him, smiling. "No." You smoosh your face to his chest, "I wanna crawl under your skin... and eat your flesh..."

Toji knew what was coming, he gently pressed on your forehead before you could latch your jaw around his bicep.

"Don't. Even. Think about it." He holds in a giant grin.

"You're too chewable. C'mon..... comeoneeeee." You smirk at him, his palm still flush to your skull.

There's a pause, and just as you think he's gonna give in, he maintains pressure, running his hands down your neck, onto your waist and traps your body under his by rolling on top of you. There are wails of descent from your crushed form beneath him, but he holds you there, wrists in his grasp.

"Lemme go Toji." You tug at your wrists.

"Thought you wanted me heating you up." He huffs into your neck.

"Yeah, but I deserve the privilege of caressing a little more." You flex your hands again.

"You gonna behave?" his fingers run over your palms.

"Not a chance."

He grins, releasing you. Quick as lightning, your hands are up and under his shirt, running over his back. He's groaning into the mattress, something about icy hands, but he's sporting a big grin, leaning down to take a tiny bite of your shoulder.

[shellshocklove]

moanin' & groanin' | logan howlett

pairing/AU: lumberjack!logan howlett/wolverine x inexperienced!female!reader

summery: working for your father's timber business isn't what you saw yourself doing, but when the wolverine comes looking for work it's suddenly not so bad – especially when he can teach you a thing or two.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap (in the way that his mutant abilities prolongs his life), swearing, use of pet names, smut, car sex, praise, a little dacryphilia, logan's got a dirty mouth, soft dom!logan, a little size kink (basically logan has a big dick), handjob, fingering, a little manhandling, unprotected sex (don't do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: um hi! this is my first ever logan fic. i really hope i got him right! not beta read, and barely edited so any mistakes are my own. happy reading! <3

main masterlist / ao3

The pages crinkled under your fingertips as you turned another page. Over the top of your book you could see your father's men milling about, getting the timber ready for another outgoing truck. Day in and day out they worked like flannel-covered ants. 

He wasn't here, your father, leaving you to hold down the fort, or office to be precise, as he  ran errands. "I'll be back before lunch," he'd told you, a hand passing through the sleeve of his tan Carhartt.

The office felt bigger when he wasn't here, like his neuroticism took up twice as much space as he did himself. You looked around the room. It was small, more like a hut than anything else, raised up on cinderblocks. A tiny kitchen lined the front wall, the refrigerator had given out once this month already and something smelled like it had died in there, the white florescent light under the wall cabinets gave you a headache, and the tap drip drip dripped. The table and the mismatched chairs, your father had found at a fleamarked years ago, before you were born most likely, and they wore the wear and tear of years of use. 

Every available surface was covered in papers, and the wooden shelves on the wall dipped in the middle from the weight of the binders. When you were little you'd been afraid the wood would break in two, but they were still standing (hanging?) – maybe they'd stay like that for the rest of eternity for all you knew. Your father's office had only one desk, which made your job as occasional office manager and full-time problem solver, problematic. 

Your father would sit in his chair on one side, while you'd steal one of the mismatched chairs and occupy the other end. If you'd had your way, you wouldn't be working here. The timber business interested you just as much as your father was interested in the disco they played on the radio. "If it ain't the king of rock I don't want to hear it," he usually said and switched the channel. 

But the town was small, and no one was hiring. The summer after you'd finished high school you'd dreamt of moving to the city, but the money had been tight and your father needed you. At least the work, if your father didn't meddle, was relatively easy: answer the phone, type out the invoices and salaries, keep an eye on logistics, and make sure whatever breaks gets fixed. 

The radio hummed at a low volume, one of the singles from Tapestry, as you turned another page of your book. Leaning back in your father's office chair, you glanced at the clock over the door. He should be back by now. Just as the thought crossed your mind, the door swung open.

"Did you need something?" you asked, your book dipping down in your lap. 

Logan raised an eyebrow at you as he walked into the office on heavy steps, that damn cigar hanging out the side of his mouth. "Nice to see you too, princess," he poked jokingly, tugging at his gloves, one finger at a time, and tucking them into his leather belt. 

He sported the same outfit he usually wore; bootcut jeans, a white t-shirt under his flannel and a thicker wool-lined jacket. He must've been sweating in here with that on.

Autumn had claimed the trees and ground months ago, but this morning the frost had covered the ground and bit at the apples of your cheeks. Your breath had come out in swirling plumes when you'd locked yourself in this morning; the first glints of the sun peeking through the windows as it rose over the mountains. The first thing you'd done was crank the heater, and now as you approached midday, you'd shed your sweater long ago while the windows had fogged with condensation. 

The smallest of frowns tugged at your brows, as a heat prickled up your neck to your cheeks. Logan made you a little nervous– not in a bad way, but in a way where your thoughts would wander in his presence, conjuring up scenarios of him and yourself in… comprising positions. Okay, maybe it was in a bad way. But who could blame you when he walked around like that?

He'd arrived only a few months ago, at the tail end of the summer, looking for work. He was strong, stronger than any of the other men working for your father, and although the work was hard, it seemed like he never tired. You didn't know much about him and he kept mostly to himself, hidden away in a cabin up in the mountain, but sometimes you'd see him down at the local bar, nursing a glass of whiskey in one hand and a lit cigar in the other. More than once you'd seen him chatting up Kayla Silverfox, and more than once you'd wished it was you in her place.

"Oof," Logan groaned as he opened the fridge, grabbing his packed lunch and closing it as fast as he could. You appreciated him for that; whatever had died in there should stay in there.

"Yeah," you said, "I'm not cleaning that again, not even for a million bucks."

"Can't blame ya." 

He looked to the table for a second where the guys usually ate their lunches, before he decided to take your usual chair at your father's desk. As he sat down, you pushed the ash tray to his side of the desk, earning you a short smile in thanks as he rested his cigar. It wasn't unusual for him to talk to you on his breaks. 

So, why did you heart beat so fast in your chest?

Because it was the first time you'd been alone.

"So, where's your old man?" he asked and bit into the sandwich he'd packed in an old newspaper.

"Running errands– he should be back soon…" you trailed off.

Logan hummed non-committedly. "So, you're in here sittin' pretty readin' your book while we're out in the cold slavin' away– maybe I should become the boss' daughter."

"Well, it's not easy," you sighed, feigning confidence, "and you gotta be pretty first of all," you front teeth dug into your bottom lip as you tried to hide your nervousness.

"That's true," he grinned, "I ain't got nothin' on you, princess."

Logan held your gaze with intent, and it was like something in the air shifted. It happened sometimes with Logan, like he had this power beaming from him that sucked you in. Erratic wings fluttered in your stomach, and you had to drop your gaze.

"So, how's the book?" he asked, taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Eh," you shrugged, dog-earing the page your were on, before throwing the beat-up paperback on the table. "Too many plot twists– first they're on earth, then there's this virus spreading– so they have to move all of humanity to the moon, but then there's this species that lives under the surface of the moon who they start a war with, but one of the main characters are in love with a moonie– that's what they call them– so, now they're in love and trying to stop the war and…" you shrugged again.

Logan chewed slowly as he nodded his head. "Sounds complicated," he decided, making you let out a small laugh.

"I guess so."

A grin washed over Logan's face at your small laugh, and you felt his gaze roll over you, over your exposed skin. When he looked at you like that, like a predator drooling for a meal, you felt a small damp spot stick to your panties. You watched as his nostrils widened, his jaw clenching shut as a pulsing vein protruded from his neck.

"So, science fiction," he started, clearing his throat, "Didn't know you liked that," he continued between the last bites of his sandwich

"Some kid at the library recommended it," you shrugged, "so I thought I'd try it out. And it's not like it's that far from the truth– we've got mutants."

Logan crumbled the newspaper hard and quick, the sharp sound making you jump. "Yeah," he said, and stood to his feet, "That's true."

He grabbed his burnt out cigar, and threw the ball of newspaper in the trash. You started to wonder if you'd said something wrong, but then he said, "Your father's back," and not even a second later you could see your dad's old truck pull up outside the window.

How did he even know that? 

"Logan– wait," the words just fell out of your mouth before you could even think them through. He hovered by the door, raising a questioning eyebrow at you. 

You could be brave– Just say it! 

"Come by later would you? Before you leave for the day– I have something for you."

A gush of cold air blew in with the arrival of your father. He almost crashed right into Logan on his way out, nearly knocking him down the wooden steps. You thought you could glimpse a small nod from Logan, but he was out the door so fast you couldn't be sure. 

The rest of the day went by slowly as a growing anxiety gnawed at your neck. With your dad back you slipped out to borrow the car, driving into town to pick up some lunch at the local diner. It was routine at this point, something you did without thinking, but today your thoughts couldn't stay still. You were pulling up outside the office when you realized you'd driven the whole way with the radio off.

What was even your plan? 

You wished you were better at this. You could pretend, sure, put on a brave face to hide the nerves from surfacing, but how do you get a man like that to go for a girl like you?

You felt non the wiser when the sun had dipped below the mountains and he finally knocked on the office door. Your dad had left thirty-minutes earlier, stranding you at work with no way to get home. 

If this didn't go well, you didn't look forward to walking home.

"What 's it you wanted, princess," Logan asked, leaning against the frame of the door with one knee popped. Your eyes couldn't help but run down the length of him – his broad shoulders, the bulge hidden below his big belt buckle, and the veins of his exposed arms as he slung his jacket over his shoulder.

"Oh, um," you tried to shake your thoughts, and you rummaged the desk for the envelope. "Here," you said as you found it, stretching your hand out for him to take it.

He pushed off the door frame with a raised eyebrow, the cold air from the open door taking with it the warmth of the office. "What's this?" he questioned, taking the envelope from your hand. 

"It's your check– for this month's work," you explained.

His raised eyebrow pulled into a frown, "This is a week early," he questioned, "and I usually get these sent in the mail."

"Oh, I-I just thought I'd give it to you personally this time," you lied, fitting a shrug at the end for good measure, trying to sell how completely normal and nonchalant you were.

Logan raised a skeptic eyebrow at you, and you suddenly felt really really stupid. In your chest your heart could compete with a hummingbird's.

"Really?" he said with a smile before he dropped his chin, "Can I appreciate a little extra something in here, or…?" he trailed off, waving the envelope.

Letting out a shaky inaudible breath, you tried in your flirtiest voice, "Maybe if you give me a ride home…"

...................

The lights from the town below looked like stars scattered over the night sky, the yellow light of the roads connected them like on a string. You knew that Logan knew where you lived; the town was small, and even with the short time he'd spent here, it wasn't hard to get familiar. He'd stopped at the lookout point, about half-way up the mountain road. It was nice in the daytime, with a nice view of the town, the mountain and rivers, but at night it attracted a different kind of crowd: lovers. It was cheesy, and cliché, but clichés were clichés for a reason. 

The Led Zeppelin tape whirled, and the music stopped. 

Suddenly you felt nervous, fingers picking at a loose tread on your sweater. Logan leaned forward to flip the cassette, and his truck filled with a sound of organ, like you were back in church. When he leaned back he slung his arm over your seat. You watched how he spread his legs, getting comfortable, as his eyes found your face.

Under the wool, your heart picked up its beat.

In a brave move you shifted closer, the leather seat moaning under you, as a pleased smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His big palm snaked around your shoulder, curling you closer to him until his lips caught your own. You only hesitated for a second before your hand found his neck, where your fingers tugged lightly at the hair at the nape of his neck. 

A low growl huffed against your lips, and he deepened the kiss, pressing himself roughly against you as he licked into your mouth. You couldn't help the small whimper escaping you. His touch was rough, almost impatient, but tender all at the same time, and you felt yourself fall apart.

The air stuck to your skin, clammy and sticky with arousal and now you started to get impatient. With a loud smack you broke apart, your lips raw and spent from use as you caught your breath. A rough hand cupped your cheek, the pad of his thumb skated gently over your skin as he tilted your head towards him.

"Such a pretty little thing," he mused. His eyes had gone dark, pupils huge and filled with lust; yours must've looked about the same as they rolled down his body. He shifted closer to you, pushing you closer to the door, and you got a better view of the bulge hidden behind his jeans.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, clogging up the sounds around you like you were underwater, pushing at your thoughts at the back of your mind. Logan moved with such ease, each touch natural and easy, like he'd done them a thousand times. Not like you, with only your short-lived high school boyfriend under your belt. 

"Hey," he shook your head gently, "Where you goin', bub?"

"I'm sorry," you whispered, a heat coating the apples of your cheeks. 

He shook his head, his face surprisingly tender for someone so rough, "Tell me, baby."

"I'm just…" you trailed of, trying to find your words, "I'm a little nervous– I haven't done this much," you said, avoiding his gaze.

"That's sweet, bub." The pad of his thumb rubbed the pet name into your skin as he leaned forward to catch your lips in a soft kiss, "But I wouldn't worry that pretty little head of yours 'bout it."

His breath was hot against your own, and an ache started to spread between your legs. The hand on your cheek travelled downwards to tug at your jacket, and you parted only for a second to rid yourself of it, but before you could lock your lips with his again he grabbed at your hands.

"I'll teach ya," he told you and guided your hands to his broad form. 

He let you touch him as he shucked off his jacket, your fingers dancing over the soft flannel. He was solid beneath your fingers, hard muscles from hard work. A patch of dark hair curled at his chest, peeking out beneath his white shirt, and you found yourself wondering where it lead.

Curling his hand around your wrist, he guided your hand lower; down over his chest where you could feel the solid form of him. His bronze belt buckle burned you like ice, but the heat of him as he pressed your hand to the hard bulge beneath the buckle burned even brighter.

"You feel that?" He looked you straight in the eyes. He pressed your hand down harder and you could feel the shape of him against your hand, hard and thick, and big. You barely managed a nod through the wave of heat coating your cheeks. 

"That's because of you, princess." His voice was low, almost like a growl, as he started to guide your hand to rub over the thick length.

"Me?" you questioned, breathless. 

"Yes, you," he chuckled, a heavy hand petting at your head. "D'you want to take it out? Stroke it f'me?"

"Please," you begged, looking at him with moony eyes through your lashes.

"So polite f'me," he mused, his hands tugging at his belt before he popped the button on his jeans. Slipping off your shoes, you crawled up into the seat, sitting back on your knees as you watched him pull at his jeans. Peeking out from under the denim, you could see a dark patch of hair.

Logan was in no rush, revealing only an inch at a time of the base of his cock, making a show of it as the tension rose. A wave of tickling arousal washed over you, and it made you brave, reaching a trembling hand forward, you helped him tug at the fabric.

At last his cock sprung free.

You felt your eyes widen at the sight, as you involuntarily squeezed your thighs together. Even with your limited experience, you knew he was bigger than most. The thick length of his cock bobbed from the weight, hanging heavy between his legs. At the tip of his fat head, a drop of precum pearled, almost invisible in the dark truck. 

"Come here, bub." He widened his legs as he reached out a strong arm for you, curling you into his shoulder. 

"Put your hand on it," he ordered, "like this," he grabbed at your wrist and guided you hand towards his mouth. You let him move you around, eyes blown out and wide as you couldn't take your eyes off his impressive cock. 

A wet blob of spit pulled you from your thoughts, it drew the slightest frown over your face until he guided your palm, now coated in his spit, to his cock.

Under your palm his skin was silky soft, but hard and firm at the same time. You found yourself mesmerized at the sight of your hand around him as you familiarized yourself with the heaviness of him in your hand. 

"There ya go–" he cut himself off with a groan as you formed a fist around the head of him. Your fingers struggled to reach around him, but it didn't seem like Logan minded much when you moved downwards smearing his spit over his shaft in an experimental tug. 

"That's it, good girl, just like that."

A warmth bloomed in your chest at the praise, wrapping itself around your heart. You wanted him to say it again– to be good for him. So, you reached forward with your other hand, wrapping it around the base as the other formed a fist around the head. Another pearl of precum beaded at the tip, and you took the opportunity to skate your thumb over it, massaging it into his spit.

A growl seemed to get caught in Logan's throat, and still riding off your high that the praise had sown in you, you started to pump his cock in slow strokes. A slick sound escaped under your fists with each stroke, and you watched how his head fell back in pleasure.

"Am-am I doing it right?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

At the sound of your voice, Logan sat up straighter, a heavy hand falling over your back to pull you closer. "You're a natural, princess."  

You couldn't contain the smile from coating your lips as he brought you in for another searing kiss. It was hot, and suffocating, and all-consuming, all at the same time. It clouded your mind, and you forgot what your hands were supposed to be doing. 

Logan's hand travelled down your body, his big palm grabbing at your ass. "Take of your pants," he ordered against your lips, "Panties too," underlining his order with a couple of light slaps to the flesh.

Shuffling out of his hold, you fingered at the button of your pants, pulling at them and your panties as quickly as you could. Goosebumps prickled over your exposed skin, the air suddenly frosty without Logan's touch – but that didn't last long.

The calloused pads of his fingers trailed up your thighs, pressing down into the flesh as he pulled you closer to him. "Come sit in my lap, princess."

He didn't wait for you to move, instead he manhandled you how he wanted. Spreading his legs wide apart he fit you between his legs, your back pressed against his hot chest with his hard and leaking cock caged against your ass. 

"I'm gonna touch you now, baby, okay?" his deep voice whispered in your ear.

"Okay," you peeped, heart pounding in your ears at this new proximity. 

He spread your legs, putting your wet and neglected cunt on display, hooking them over his knees. When his palms danced over your inner thighs, you felt yourself sink deeper into his chest, deeper into the safe scent of pine and man. 

"Need to get you ready f'me, bub– stretch this tight cunt out for my big cock," he cooed.

You ached for him, a sticky wet feeling between your legs as you wished so badly for him to finally touch you. His touch was light, but teasing, drawing circles along the thin flesh, circling closer and closer to where you needed his touch the most, before he pulled away. 

"Please," you whined, grabbing at his arm.

His breath felt hot against your neck, and you could feel the grin he pressed against your skin. He let you guide him upwards to hover his large palm over your mound, but he wouldn't let you have it. Instead, he pushed at your sweater. His hand spread across the skin beneath your belly button as prickled goosebumps followed the rough pads as they ran across your skin.

"Y'gonna feel me right here, bub?" he teased, "So deep inside your tummy?"

A whine caught in your throat and you felt like an exposed nerve. Arousal pulsated throughout your body, threatening to pull you apart unless he did something soon. Your neglected cunt dripped with an ache only he could sooth. 

"Yes, please, Logan," you whined, tears threatening to spill.

His thick beard scraped against your cheek, and you almost trembled from anticipation as he slid his hands downwards. He raked his fingers through the curls of your mound, and a gasp fell from your lips when he finally pushed at your clit.

A wide smile reached across your face when he started to circle his fingers, tight with the perfect amount of pressure. Your hips bucked to meet his touch, your cunt eager and dripping for more of him. His other arm clasped around your middle, keeping your still and steady in his lap as he had his way with you.

A bold finger dipped lower, running through your folds and teasing at you entrance. A slick sound filled the car as he played with your cunt, circling his fingers around your hole, dipping a teasing finger inside you just to the first knuckle, before withdrawing it just as quickly. 

"Such a messy pussy," Logan murmured in your ear, the deep bass of his voice vibrating into your skin. "Listen."

The sound as he played with your pussy was obscene, lewd, and so dirty you felt a heat crawl up your chest. A breathy gasp escaped you when he finally split you on his finger, and a satisfied smile coated your lips as he started to move it inside in a steady rhythm, prodding every so often at that spongy spot inside, the spot your own finger couldn't reach.

"F-feels s-so good," you managed to stutter out. 

The heel of his palm pressed against your clit with every thrust, teasing at your insides and conjuring moan after breathy moan from your lips. He guided you closer and closer to the edge, and you wanted so badly to fall. When he pulled out to slide another finger inside you, you felt a tear roll down your cheek with satisfaction.

"I can feel that pussy clenching me– you close, bub?" he poked, never stopping his fingers.

Your head rolled back, resting heavy on his shoulder as you nodded franticly, mouth parted slightly, humming out small breathy whines. You were so close, the tension in your stomach twisting and aching for release.

But then he pulled his fingers, dragging them up over your mound leaving a wet trail in your curls. You couldn't help the disappointed sigh as more tears pressed their way down your cheeks.

"Shh," he hushed you, "you're okay, bub." 

Under you, you felt him move, his strong muscles flexing as he shifted you on his lap. When you felt the blunt head of his cock slide between your folds, an eagerness came upon you. You grinded against him, making a small chuckle rumble from his chest. Logan slapped his heavy cock against your folds, coating his big cock in your slick arousal. 

The first stretch of him knocked the breath right out of you, the fat tip of him splitting you in half as he helped you guide yourself down on him. You had to remember to breathe, your hand fumbling for something to hold on to. 

"Fuck," you whimpered, eyes wide, "I-it's so big– it's t-too big."

His hand wrapped around your middle held you in place, keeping you still on his cock as you adjusted to the first inches of him inside you. 

"It's not too big, princess, you're doing so well f'me," he praised, "just a little more, bub– you can do it."

With a wet whimper you lowered yourself, taking a couple more inches of him, as Logan pressed more fluttering praise into your skin. He let you take your time, easing yourself down on him at your own pace. When your thighs were finally flushed with his, he was so deep inside you, you jolted, trying to move back up, but Logan's hands held you down. You felt him in your tummy, like he'd said, his cock reaching so deep you were shaking.

"Sit still, get used to it," he told you, as you tried to catch your breath, "You're being so good f'me."

And somehow the burning stretch of him soothed away into a pleasurable pressure, one you couldn't help but chase. With an experimental rock of your hips, you felt the fat head of him prod at your spot, making you mewl. And when you started to swivel your hips, Logan groaned in satisfaction, meeting your movement with small thrusts.

Slowly, he picked up his rhythm, strong hands shifted to dig into your hips, holding you in place for him to move you as he wished. In your ear, you heard him growl, deep and animalistic as he fucked up into you.

It didn't take long until your breath came out fast between moans as the pressure built, and built, and built. 

"Logan," you moaned, tethering right on the edge.

Another growl escaped his chest, as his strong arms hooked under your legs. He pressed them tightly to your body as he picked up his pace, bucking wildly into your eager cunt. You could feel him throb inside of you, and you couldn't help but clench at the thought of feeling him spill inside you, claiming you.

"Don't stop, please, don't stop," you begged, tears streaming down your face like two winding rivers, "I-I'm gonna come."

A hand slid between your legs to rub at your puffy clit, coaxing you closer and closer with winding circles. 

"Come on my cock, baby, come all over that big cock."

It was hot, and blinding. Euphoric shocks pulsed through your body, as you fluttered and gushed around his cock. Logan's grip on your legs tightened as you shook violently with your orgasm – a million stars exploded behind your eyes.

"Oh, that's it, bub, such a good girl," he praised between heavy wet pants against your ear.    

Fucking you through your ecstasy, Logan chased his own high at a relentless pace, and all you could do was take it, reduced to a ragdoll in his hands. In your ear he muttered nonsense interlaced with praise, telling you how good you felt, and how perfect you were for him.

With a deep groan he pulled out quickly, tugging at himself until he spilled his thick spend on the truck floor. With bleary eyes you watched how it pumped in quick spurts, dripping down his hand and soiled the knuckles in his own sticky cum. 

Behind you, Logan breathed hard, nudging his nose against the column of your neck to press soft kisses to the hot skin. 

A pair of bright headlights beamed down the road, pulling you from the moment with its blinding light. Logan helped you shift off his lap, reaching to hand you your discarded clothes before he tucked himself back into his jeans. 

The cassette whirled in the car radio, and you couldn't remember when the music had stopped. Logan shifted back behind the wheel and an eerie silence grew in the distance between you.

"How 'bout I take you somewhere to eat?" he posed.

You smiled, "I could eat."

...................

hopefully this was okay? a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 and thank you for reading!!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[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.”

[hellogiysi]

Buy full sleeve t-shirt online | Buy full sleeve t-shirt for summers

Buy full sleeve t-shirt for summer Category: Cotton full sleeve T-shirt Colour: Olive Green Buy full sleeve t-shirt online Pattern: Broad Neck Wash care: Hand wash Size and Fit : Regular Fit (The model Height is 6’0’’ and wearing size L) Fabric: 100% Cotton Manufacturer: MSR Traders Country of Origin: India

[fuctacles]

wiggly wormy wednesday

Thanks @formosusiniquis for tagging me!!! Here's a thing inspired by that one fanart of Eddie in that one t-shirt that I can't find now

Steve works during the summer as a pool boy. 

It's a good ego boost as he's been in high demand among the housewives in the area. His schedule is full, to the point he has to start declining some offers to have time for himself. When his phone rings with another job offer, he doesn't reject it right away because he's startled to hear a man's voice for a change. Then he hears he'll double the salary and he agrees. 

The address he jotted down leads him to the oldest mansion in town, dark and looming over the neighborhood. He understands the raise in money now and is glad that he told Robin where he'll be. 

The gate is open, so he pushes his way through the artfully neglected garden towards the door, where a note is waiting for him.

You'll find cleaning tools in the shed. Knock on the back door when you're done.

Steve knew of eccentric old people but this one was slowly taking the cake. He rounds the estate to find the pool behind it, and the cake is pulled out of his grip. Who in their right mind paints the pool red? 

By the state it's in, it probably hasn't been used in weeks. The surface is fully covered in leaves and twigs, and the tiles around it are covered in grime. It's a wild 180 after being called to clean pools just so he can hand out sodas and towels to a group of old ladies, but he rolls up his sleeves and gets to work.

Every now and then, he looks up from his work, expecting to find someone ogling him, but he never finds anyone. It's a weird thing to consider a constant of his job, but he came to expect it. Double-checking that he's really alone, he starts humming to himself to make the time go faster. If he's ever called here again, he might take a radio or a walkman with him. 

He's done surprisingly fast, with the sun still high when he goes to knock on the back door. His curiosity is through the roof to see what kind of person his employer is. 

He hears a click by his feet and when he looks down, he realizes the cat door has spat out an envelope. Inside he finds his payment and a note. 

Will double it if you come at 5pm next week

So Steve does, not worried much because the sun is still up, even if it casts ominous shadows around the mansion. 

In one of these dark corners, he spots a lawn chair, the shade doubled with a huge umbrella over it. He wonders if this time, some rich lady is going to join him. Or, the tiny bi-curious bone in his body supplies, the guy who hired him. For the time being, he focuses on his task. 

It's so dark, that he almost misses it. But when he does a double take as he's swiping the poolside, he yells. 

On the chair in the double shade, wearing all black, a huge straw hat, and sunglasses, sits a figure. Steve's eyes are confused as to why they're seeing a black-and-white picture in the middle of his technicolor world. 

The figure raises its hand, making its features more distinguishable. 

"Sorry!" says a voice Steve vaguely recognizes from the phone call. "Don't mind me, just getting my money's worth!" The man grins, sharp and bright, and relaxes against the chair with intent to stay, a glass of wine held in his hand.

Steve considers him for all of two seconds, before grabbing at the bottom of his t-shirt. Fuck it. This is what half of the job is about anyway.

The fabric hits the ground, and he gets a surprisingly goofy whoop of approval. 

tagging if u wanna join: @stevesjockstrap @yesdangerpls @stevieharringtonwifeguy @doublecherrypiediscosuperfly @adverbally

[sweetimpurity]

c.w.: very smutty, ice cream and sex

The hot sun beats down on your hometown. It’s finally summer and you’re ready for the beach, freedom and romance. You and Miguel have been together since you were both 15. Growing up together, going to school, falling in love and staying in it until now. 18 years old, the two of you. You can’t wait to spend every day with him this summer, and you really can’t wait for those hot summer nights. 

The only thing that gets in the way is summer jobs. If only you two were 10 again and you could spend every minute wasting the day away in the kiddie pool. But now at 18, there are other, better things you two can get up to. 

This summer you’re working at your Dad’s store in town and Miguel is logging in his 3rd consecutive year at Sunny Scoops ice cream. A cute little place by the boardwalk with really good waffle cones and the cutest boy in town behind the register! 

There, Miguel works all day, sweating and smiling, handing out ice cream to little kids, the elderly, families, anyone who’s having a beach day. And any girls who ask for his number, he just tells them to text you and ask for it. That usually prevents them from ever asking again. 

He’s grown muscle over the past three years and ultimately you just had to help him cut the sleeves off his work t-shirt. Complaining about the ‘fit not being right’ on the bigger sizes. 

The uniform he used to wear when he was 15 was pretty horrendous. Pink and blue striped and that goofy ice cream cone hat. Then he turned 16… 17… now 18 and wowza. You’ve watched him grow into a man. Now his arms are showing, his muscles from scooping rock solid ice cream all day long. Toned and extra tan from the summer sun. A bandana wrapped messily in his dark curls to keep the sweat off his forehead. Sometimes you’ll sit there with ice cream melting down your hand and between your fingers because you’re just staring at him moving around behind the little counter and through the little shop. Smiling handsomely to customers, his muscles flexing when he’s scooping the frozen treat, catching his eye and his smile when he sees you watching him. Flustered and flushed pink when he comes back over to talk to you, licking the drips off your knuckles. 

“Your ice cream is melting, baby…” He would coo. Licking his lips of the sweet chocolate melt. “You’re really hot.” You’d sigh, completely in a daze. 

You’re finally done with work now, letting your Dad know you’re leaving for the night. A plan in mind. A need for something sweet. Not just ice cream tonight.  Leaving your Dad’s store at 9:30pm and Sunny Scoops closes at 10. You get in your car, letting the summer night breeze blow in through the windows. The cool down finally here as the sun is set. The night is still warm and sticky but not as blazingly hot as before.

…

“Here you go… have a good night.” You hear his voice as you’re walking up to the window. Watching a little boy and his mother walking away happily with huge ice cream cones in hand. And would you look at that… you’re next in line.

“Hey, gorgeous…” He smiles seeing you, leaning his elbows on the counter and watching you approach the window. “Hey!” You chirp, smiling up at him. “Busy day?” You ask, admiring his tip jar full to the brim. “Yeah, busy but good.” He nods, grabbing a waffle cone and moving around behind the counter. You peer over the edge to look inside. Watching him at the soft serve machine. He knows you so well of course. “Chocolate vanilla twist for the pretty lady…” He announces and hands you a tall swirl of ice cream.

“Come around back, I’m just closing up.” He nods and you take your ice cream, moving to the back of the teeny building to the back door. Walking inside. Like you do most days you come to see him. Miguel slides the window closed, locking it and pulling the wooden panel over to block the window. Locking the place up. 

You hop up to sit on top of the big box freezer, licking the swirl of ice cream in your hand and watching him move some stuff around and close up.

“You wanna go to the beach tomorrow?” You ask, looking over at him with those eyes that make him weak. His eyes watching your pink tongue lick up your ice cream. “Sure.” He answers just softly. Focusing on doing his job before he loses all control. Not just yet. You smile and kick your legs softly. He walks past with a box, grabbing your ankle as you kick your foot up, giving you a look and letting his fingers run up your calf, bringing a smile to your lips, walking away as he finishes clearing the place up, taking the box to the shelves in the back. Coming back after a minute or two. 

“Hey.” He hums, stopping in front of you, a sly sort of smirk on his face. “Hey.” You respond, just as softly, your ice cream only beginning to melt. “You’re so pretty…” He hums as if he hasn’t told you a million times before, making you smile and he steps closer, between your knees. His fingers teasing the sides of your thighs. “Preciosa chica…” He whispers, looking in your eyes and licking the drips off the back of your ice cream cone. Like he always does. Licking all the way to the top of the swirl and then his lips are on yours. His lips moving against yours, his tongue parting your lips. His tongue tasting of chocolate swirl and his lips sugary slippery sweet. His tongue delves into your mouth, his hand going to cup the back of your head, ice cream smashed and mixed between your two tongues. So sweet. Until he’s pulling back, both of you with a slurp. 

You giggle softly, feeling sticky sugar all over your lips. “You want more?” You laugh, raising a brow at him and he grins. You tilt the cone towards his lips. “It’s yours, baby… I wanna see you eat it.” He replies. 

His hands move up under your shirt, tickling your sides as he pulls you closer, sliding you across the freezer top. You smile, bringing the swirl to your lips and licking the melting ice cream, sucking gently and enjoying it, all while staring in his eyes. His hands move under the fabric, fingers moving up your ribcage, your diaphragm, to your breasts. 

“No bra, mami?” He laughs, fingers exploring and kneading the plush of your tits. Staring in your eyes as he does it. “Took it off in the car…” You smile so innocently. He grows harder at the thought. That you took off your bra on the way over here. Like you wanted this to happen, you wanted him. Watching you gasp among the ice cream in your mouth, his thumbs rubbing over your nipples, rolling them gently between his thumb and index fingers. Massaging gently under your shirt. He leans forward, placing three deep kisses to your throat before pulling back again, his fingers grasping the hem of your t-shirt. 

“Can I take this off?” He asks and you nod, mouth full of ice cream. He pushes your shirt up and off, the neon lights of the shop reflecting off your skin, off your breasts, making his mouth water. His arm anchors around your lower back, lips latching onto your breast, licking and sucking and squeezing the other in his hand. “Mmm- miguel…” You sigh, sensitized from his caress. He slurps and smooches your soft skin, the naughty noises filling the small space. The hum of the many fridges and freezers a soothing harmony with your soft moans and the sticky sucking of his lips.  

He pulls back, kissing you a few times, tasting that sweetness on your lips. Keeping one arm around your back and your eyes widened in surprise watching him dip his fingers into the mountain of ice cream in your hand. Picking up dollaps of cold chocolate swirl on his fingers and smearing it over your nipples. Eliciting a sharp gasp from your throat as he does it. Looking down at your chest. He does the same with both sides. “You like that?” Grinning the whole time, holding you tight as you squirm. Freezing coldness hardening the buds until his warm lips come back down to suck the ice cream off. A shuddering and trembling moan leaving you at the feeling. Your free hand going to his hair, tangling in the dark curls. Pulling the bandana off of his head and watching his summer curls bounce free. “Ohhh- Miguel- '' You moan sweetly and he groans against your chest, your sticky sugary nipples sucked and kissed over and over until it's all gone. 

“So sweet baby…” He pants, pulling his shirt off, coming back up to kiss your lips and holding your flushed cheeks in his hands. “Mmm..” You whine, kissing him back hungrily, deeper, your free hand running up his toned abdomen to his chest, a map of his body already ingrained in your brain after all these years, then wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, the ice cream dripping down your knuckles and onto his bare back, making goosebumps on his skin, his big hands running down your back and to your waist. “I don’t have a condom, baby…” He pants against your lips, his fingers in your hair; the words making your tummy flip in butterflies, knowing he wants you; he’s going to be inside. He pulls back for air, desperate to have you as he’s had you many times before.

“I do.” You pant for air, reaching blindly in your back pocket for the one condom you brought. “You really came here just to get fucked, didn’t you?” He laughs and smiles, taking the small foil packet into his sticky fingers. “I came here to see my love…” You hum, tilting your head at him. Not very convincing. His brow cocks in suspicion. “Fine. I came here to get fucked by my love.” You finally admit and the two of you can’t help the giggles. 

Outside the small ice cream shop, cars drive by, peepers peep and crickets chirp. The temperatures go down as the night goes on, but inside the little parlor, things are heating up. 

“Tell me where baby… tell me…” He whispers in your ear, knuckles deep in your heat and you’re barely able to hang onto him. One hand still occupied by the dripping melting ice cream cone. “Right there! Oh right th-there!” You squeal, his thumb moving expertly on your clit and his fingers flicking and curling deep inside. “Oh my god…” You whine, back arching and leaning back so far you almost fall back off the freezer. “Hey… hey… there you go…” He coos, holding you and helping you lay on your back. Limited on space but you make do. His fingers pumping generously into your needy pussy. 

His bottoms are long gone but he takes the condom foil between his teeth, ripping it open carefully. “C’mon baby…” He pants. Taking your free hand and pulling it down to his dick. Guiding you to roll the condom onto his length. Shuddering and groaning feeling the lubed rubber and your soft warm hand pushing it down on him. All while his fingers still curl up against your g spot and you’re on the cusp of coming already. For a few moments, he thrusts into your hand around him. Relishing that pleasure until it’s not enough. 

“Ready, sweet girl?” He steps forward, pulling your hips down to meet him at the edge of the freezer. “Mi corazón…” He whispers, a hand running flat over your tummy. “Mmm… yes please…” You whisper. And when he gets that confirmation, there’s no stopping his gummy tip from kissing your clit, pushing through your slick before slipping down and inside. Like the two of you were made for this. He was made to be with you in this way. You were created to be in love. 

“Haahh…. Baby…” He sighs and shudders, easing himself in with small pulsing thrusts to stretch you out nicely for him. He doesn’t want to hurt his precious girl. Soon he’s pressed to the hilt and your back is arching from that alone. Your trembling legs latching around his waist as he starts his rhythm. Skin slapping skin in the sickly slip of sticky slick. 

Moaning loud and free, the both of you, at the feeling. The feeling of being so full, so filled to the brim. Of love. Of him. The ice cream cone nearly falls out of your hand, your brain unable to think of anything but the pleasure between your legs. One leg wrapped around his hip and the other held in his arm, your knee draped over and his big hand wrapped around your thigh. Keeping you open for him; spread. Pumping into you steady and deep. His heavy eyes watching your face to see how much you love it. His hand on your thigh finds your free hand, lacing his fingers with yours. Panting and focusing. On getting you there. On making you feel the best he possibly can. 

You’re delirious, hazy, a mess of moans and a buzzing burning ache for him. 

“Baby baby-” He grabs your wrist when the ice cream almost slips entirely, holding your wrist and making it stay upright so he doesn’t have to mop the floors. Smiling when he sees your fucked out face. Easing the cone out of your hand so he can hold it. So that it doesn’t splatter on the floor. Letting your hand fall, fingers gripping and clenching around nothing. His thrusts are so deep, so giving, and he’s hitting every little spot that has you melting. 

“That’s it, baby…” He encourages you, trying to bring you that sweet release. “So good Mig…so so sooo…” You whine, on the very edge of bliss. Miguel watches, breathing so fast and heavy. His eyes trail down your face to your soft, marked neck, to your shoulders, your tits, sternum, stomach. Until it’s almost involuntary, he dumps the cold, melting, dripping ice cream cone on your soft tummy. Pulling a high pitched squeal and gasp from your lips, the cold like the spark in a chain reaction, back arching as he drags the freezing smushed chocolate swirl up to your sternum. Your orgasm hits you before another second can think to pass. Your skin shining in melty vanilla and chocolate swirl. The cold making you clench around him. 

Screaming in ecstasy and squeezing him so tight he's doubling over and groaning at the pressure. Thrusts become impossible and all he can do is spurt deep and hot. Filling the condom with a groan and feeling you fluttering around him. He licks a stripe up your sternum, slurping ice cream from your skin. Pressing messy kisses to your chest and his face just drips with the melted sugary substance. Drops and dribbles rolling down your sides as you gush on his dick. Trembling, shaking, coming down from what might be the strongest climax you’ve ever experienced. 

“Oh baby… hah… that was amazing…” He pants, his voice wavering, leaning over you, kissing your cheeks, your neck, your lips. “I love, love you… hah…” He huffs, looking over your face to make sure you’re okay. “Mmm… I love you” You sigh, a blissed out smile on your face. He smiles seeing you’re happy and you’re feeling good; because that’s all he’s ever wanted. And all he’ll ever want.

[pandapetals]

Christmas Sweater

You convince Logan to wear a christmas sweater.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - married couple, cute, fluff, banter, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor, christmas party, holiday vibes

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @saradika

“Please, Logan? Pretty please?” You held out the oversized Christmas sweater, grinning as you watched his face contort into a scowl the moment he laid eyes on it. It was red and green with a ridiculous snowman knitted across the front, complete with a fluffy scarf and a lopsided top hat. It was festive, cheesy, and perfect for the holiday party.

Logan crossed his arms, his stance unyielding. "Not a chance, sweetheart," he grumbled. "I’m not wearin’ that thing."

“Oh, come on!" you said, rolling your eyes as you pushed the sweater toward him. "Everyone’s wearing one. Jean’s got a reindeer sweater with bells, and I swear I saw Scott in one with candy canes."

Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Summers can wear all the candy canes he wants. I don’t need some fuzzy snowman to feel ‘festive.’"

You let out a sigh, putting on your best pout. "Logan, for the past four Christmases, I’ve let it slide. You’ve skulked around in your boring black t-shirt, looking like you’d rather be elsewhere. But just this once… for me?" You softened your tone, tilting your head and batting your eyelashes. "Please?"

He gave you a long, suffering look, but you caught the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. After a heavy silence, he let out a dramatic sigh. "Fine," he muttered, snatching the sweater from your hands. "But if anyone makes a single comment, I'm takin’ it off. Got it?"

"Got it," you replied, beaming as he reluctantly pulled the sweater over his head. You had to bite back a laugh as it slid down over his broad shoulders, the fabric clinging to his frame and yet somehow looking cozy and inviting.

He grumbled under his breath as he adjusted the sleeves, but there was a hint of a smirk he desperately tried to hide. "This thing’s ridiculous," he muttered, tugging at the snowman’s scarf, which was made of actual fuzzy yarn that dangled a little too realistically.

You stepped back, giving him an appreciative once-over with a grin. "I dunno… I think you look adorable. Plus we match.” 

"Adorable," he repeated flatly, narrowing his eyes at you. "Careful, sweetheart. You’re pushin’ it."

The two of you joined the rest of the team downstairs, where the holiday party was in full swing. Logan tried to stay in the background, but it wasn’t long before Rogue spotted him and let out a delighted laugh. "Logan! Look at you!" she teased, clapping her hands together. "Never thought I’d see the day you’d wear somethin’ so… cheerful."

Logan grumbled, crossing his arms in an attempt to hide the snowman on his chest. "Don’t start, kid," he muttered, though you could see the faint blush creeping up his neck.

Scott walked by, barely holding back a grin. "Nice sweater, Logan. Didn’t know you had it in you."

Logan’s response was a low growl, but there was that hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth again. He shot you a look as if to say, I told you this would happen.

You just shrugged innocently, giving him a wink. "Told you everyone would love it."

Despite his protests, Logan seemed to settle into the cozy warmth of the sweater as the night went on. You caught him tugging it down a few times, mumbling about the sleeves being too long, but eventually, he seemed to forget about it, even getting a little more relaxed with each passing hour.

At one point, you snuck over to the snack table and grabbed your phone, positioning yourself just right. He was standing by the fireplace, scowling at his hot cocoa as if it had personally offended him, but he looked… comfortable. The firelight danced off the cozy red and green knit, and his expression was somewhere between annoyed and content, a tiny smile ghosting over his lips.

You snapped a picture, grinning to yourself. Logan caught you mid-snap, raising an eyebrow. "Did you just take a picture of me in this ridiculous thing?"

You hid your phone behind your back, laughing. "Maybe."

He rolled his eyes, stepping closer, his hands resting on his hips. "You’re lucky I’m wearin’ this for you," he muttered, his voice gruff but warm.

You bit back a smile, tilting your head as you looked up at him. "You know, you don’t have to keep it on. I’m just saying… if it’s really that uncomfortable—"

"Don’t push it," Logan cut in, his voice gruff but softer than usual. His gaze lingered on yours, a flicker of warmth breaking through his usual stoic expression. After a beat, he mumbled, almost as if he didn’t want you to hear, "It’s actually… not bad. Warm, even."

Your grin widened, and before he could protest, you leaned up and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. "See? I knew you’d secretly like it. Admit it—deep down, you’re a fan of holiday cheer."

Logan rolled his eyes, but a faint smirk betrayed him. There was a glimmer of amusement in his gaze that hadn’t been there at the start of the evening, and you could feel his stance relax just a little as if he’d finally surrendered to the holiday spirit.

"You’re just a big softie in disguise," you teased, patting his chest where the snowman’s fuzzy scarf dangled slightly off-kilter. The absurdity of it made you giggle, and Logan couldn’t help but shake his head, his gruff exterior melting as he looked down at you.

"Yeah, well, don’t go makin’ a habit of it," he muttered, though there was a faint blush creeping up his neck. "And don’t get any ideas about sharin’ that picture, either. If anyone asks, I’ll deny it’s me."

You laughed, pulling out your phone to give the picture another glance—a candid shot of Logan looking surprisingly cozy by the fireplace, the oversized sweater almost swallowing his broad frame, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. It was like capturing a rare sighting of some mythical creature: Logan, the Wolverine, caught in a moment of holiday cheer.

"Don’t worry," you whispered, slipping your phone back into your pocket. "This one’s just for me. My little secret."

Logan let out a small huff, a resigned sort of acceptance settling in his expression as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. "Good."

You nestled against him, savoring the warmth of his sweater and the steady rise and fall of his breathing. The two of you stood there, wrapped in each other and surrounded by the soft glow of holiday lights, the rest of the room fading away.

"Thanks for humoring me," you murmured, pressing your head against his shoulder. "You didn’t have to, you know."

Logan’s hand rested gently on your arm, his thumb tracing small circles as he looked down at you, a faint smile softening his rough features. "Yeah, well… I guess you’re worth a little humiliation," he muttered, the teasing edge in his voice belying the warmth in his gaze. "Just don’t expect me to go wearin’ reindeer antlers next year."

You chuckled, leaning up to kiss him softly, savoring the rare moment of tenderness between you. "Noted," you whispered. "But you're wearing another sweater next year."

Logan groaned as the corners of his mouth twitched up into a smile. "You’re lucky I love you," he mumbled, tightening his arm around you as he looked around the room. "Guess this holiday stuff ain’t so bad when you’re here."

[mymindisneverhere]

FAVORS (5)

Part Five

warnings: 18+, MDNI!, SMUT, sub!Terry, soft dom!black fem OC, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talking, lil bit of angst, explicit language, lots of dialogue, slow burn (forgive me if I missed any)

Masterlist

*Knock Knock Knock* 

Khloé went to open the door without even looking through the peephole. She swung the door open and stood there for a few seconds. 

“Can I come in or do you just wanna stare at me?” Terry smirked. His expression quickly became serious as he saw that her demeanor hadn’t changed. 

‘What did I do now?’ He thought. 

Khloé turned and walked away. He followed behind her, quickly shutting the door and locking it. He walked deeper into the room and stopped once she turned around to face him. 

She wore a soft pink slip dress that fit snug to her body, with small slits down the sides, showcasing her round hips. Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail and her lips were bare

“Is something wrong?” He asked, eyebrows raised in concern. 

Khloé took her eyes off of him and looked around the room until her gaze landed on her dining table. She walked over to the set, pulling one of the chairs out and away from the table. 

“Sit.”

Terry eyed her skeptically as he made his way over to the chair. He sat down on the soft cushion in the seat and spread his feet apart, hands rested against his legs. 

Khloé walked out of his view to the small closet by the entrance. He heard some ruffling for a few seconds until the door snapped shut. She reappeared back into the open area, stern eyes locked on him. He looked down at her hands to see rope hanging from her grasp. 

“I have a couple of questions for you.” She stopped directly in front of him. “Because I’m under the impression that you’ve been lying to me and I don’t like being lied to.” Khloé placed the items on the table and looked down at him. 

“If you give me the wrong answer, you remove what I tell you to remove.” 

She stood in front of him, hands behind her back, chest on full display. He stared directly at her breasts. The slip she wore was so thin he could see her dark nipples through the dress. He licked his lips, excited for whatever she was about to task him with. Staring unapologetically, he could feel his dick growing in his pants, completely unaware of what was to come. 

“Who is Summer McBride?” 

“She’s family.” He responded confidently. 

“Watch.” She instructed, looking down at his wrist. 

He looked up at her to read her expression. It remained the same, still and unpleasant. He unhooked his watch, still eyeing her as he took his time removing the accessory. He placed the watch onto the table and returned back to his initial position. 

“Let’s try this again, who is Summer McBride to you?” 

He paused before answering. “She’s a woman I met in Shelby Springs. She’s like family to me.” 

“But she’s not an actual relative though, is she?” 

“No ma’am but-“ He answered, ignoring her eyes. 

“So you did lie to me?” She tilted her head. “Shoes.” 

“I didn’t lie t-“

“Shoes!” She spat, uninterested in whatever he was about to say. 

He let out a breath as reached down to untie his work shoes one at a time before kicking them to the side.

“Why did you have me send her $16,000?” 

“She helped me with the bail money for my cousin. She also played a part in uncovering some of the corruption in the city. I just wanted to return the favor.” He spoke remorsefully. 

Khloé looked down at him, noticing the guilty look on his face. “You said she was in need of assistance, so that was another lie?” 

“I can expl-“

“Shirt.” 

He huffed as he reached down and raised the company shirt above his head, pulling each arm out of the sleeves and tossing it to the floor. Sitting back against the chair, he continued staring down at the floor awaiting the next question. 

“A woman, who you met not that long ago, is bringing you lunch that you left behind at her home?” 

He remained silent. 

“Why were you there?” 

“She was nervous about the money popping up out of nowhere, I just stopped by to ease her anxiety.” 

“A phone call or text wouldn’t suffice?” 

“Well, yes but I wanted to-“

“Pants.” 

His eyebrows bent as he stared up at her, frustrated at the fact that he couldn’t even finish his sentences without her cutting him off. She lifted a brow as if she were repeating herself without having to. He stood from the chair, standing over her while he undid his pants. She was eye level with his bare chest, watching as it flexed with his movement. 

Terry stared down at her, seeing the mixture of anger and lust in her expression. He dropped his pants and stepped out one foot at a time, kicking them off to the side. 

“Keep standing.” Her eyes shifted to his, which were already on hers. “Were you involved with her?” 

“No ma’am.” 

“So you had me send her that much money just to say thank you?” Khloé folded her arms in disbelief. 

“She has a daughter who needs better schooling, I wanted to help her the same way she helped me.” 

Her weight shifted to her right leg. “What does her daughter have to do with you?” 

Terry took a deep breath before responding. “If you’re trying to ask me if I’m the father of her daughter, the answer is no.”

“So Mr. Richmond is such a noble man that he sent the majority of the money I offered him to a woman for her daughter who he has absolutely no ties to whatsoever?” She laughed, sarcasm lacing every word. 

“Yes.” He answered harshly. 

She squinted, sensing the sincerity in his voice. Her eyes darted back and forth between his. He may have been telling the truth but he had still broken one of her rules.  

“Okay, let’s say I believe you.” She stepped around him, behind the chair and grabbed the black rope from the dining table. “You’re still in violation of one of my rules. What was rule number 2?” 

“Break up with whoever I was dating. But I wasn’t dating anyone.” Terry answered, looking over his shoulder at her. 

“I also told you not to have any women popping up asking for you.” She shot back, undoing the rope in her hands. “Boxers.” 

He let out a deep sigh as he ran his thumbs against the waist of his underwear and pushed them down. She looked down at his bare ass, licking her lips. 

“Sit down.”

He obliged.

She pulled both of his arms behind the chair and tied the rope tightly around his wrists. “Do you like when I’m being a bitch to you Mr. Richmond?”

“I don’t recall you ever being that nice to me in the first place.” 

She walked around the chair to face him and grabbed his jaw pushing his head back forcefully. 

“You’re gonna learn to watch that smart ass mouth of yours.” His jaw clenched in her hands.

She slowly bent down to tie his ankles to each leg of the chair. He watched her as she tied the restraints and noticed a blind fold in her hands. Now standing, she tied it around his head covering his eyes for now. 

“I’m not gonna hurt you too bad but if you decide to bitch out, let me know.” She whispered into his ear and licked his earlobe. She bit down on his ear, noticing the change in his breathing. She trailed down to his jaw until she got to his lips. Kissing him for a moment she allowed him to fall into her rhythm before she bit down on his bottom lip. This wasn’t the moment for intimacy, she needed to make one thing very clear to him.  

“My rules are to be followed.” 

Khloé ran her hands down his body, feeling every muscle, every vein, every piece of him. Her hands traced down his abdomen until she reached his dick. She rested on her knees as she came face to face with it. 

Tracing the veins in his dick with her tongue, she followed them all the way up to the tip, teasing him. He cursed when he felt the warmth of her tongue on him, making his stomach flex a bit. She licked him again, embracing the taste of him on her tongue. 

“If you followed my rules, you would be inside me however you choose right now.” She said, placing wet kisses along the shaft.

“I d-didn’t know she w-would pop up.” He barely managed above a whisper.  

She wrapped her lips around his dick and sucked on the head, her tongue rubbing against the underside of it. She slowly raked her teeth against his shaft, noticing his teeth clench at the feeling. Pushing down on his dick, she sucked him dreadfully slow, taking every inch of him with in then pulling back and spitting on his tip. 

“Oh fuck.” 

“She shouldn’t have come looking for you.” 

The sounds of her sucking him filled his ears instantly. The only thing he was forced to focus on was the pleasure he was getting from her and the noises that came with it. His mouth hung open as she sucked him, turning him into the bitch she knew he’d be as the minutes rolled by. 

She moved her hand, pushing her head all the way down until all of him disappeared into her mouth. She stayed there for a few seconds until she felt herself gag then raised her head up. The thick strings of spit that hung between the two of them made her clit throb. The enjoyment she got from throating him was very clear as he heard her moan each time she did it. The more she gagged, the wetter she became, the more he felt his nut rising.

“Aw look at you, you’re so helpless.” Her voice had switched from harsh and cruel to soft and sensual. The way his dick jumped each time she spoke, she knew it was driving him crazy. “I love seeing you like this.” 

Unable to move, only allowed to receive the pleasure she was giving him. She sucked him sloppily, moaning at the feeling of him hitting her throat, letting all that built in it run down his dick. 

“Shit.” He said through gritted teeth. His body tensed as he felt his nut brewing. She felt his dick stiffen in her mouth so she pulled back, painfully sending him back down the ladder. 

“Are there any more women I should know about Mr. Richmond?” 

“No ma’am.” He grunted. 

The frustration in his tone caused a soft giggle to escape her lips. She grabbed his dick once again, rubbing the tip against her wet lips before licking it again. His dick was glistening, along with the bottom half of her face. Running her thumb under his balls she lifted them, licking and sucking while stroking his dick, squeezing the tip every now and again. 

“Fuuuck, I’m s-sorry.” He breathed out. The feeling of her toying with his heavy balls and his dick all at once had him in a frenzy. He wanted to cum so badly but she wasn’t gonna let that happen anytime soon. Every time she sensed his nut building, she’d stop just to watch his frustration grow on his face. 

Terry dropped his head back as his lips parted, loving and hating every second of this pleasure he was getting. On one hand it was everything he wanted but on the other hand the edging was tormenting him.  

However, Khloé was thoroughly enjoying herself. Her pleasure was coming solely from the feeling of his hard dick in her mouth and his inability to breathe or speak clearly. If she really wanted to she could give him head all night, that’s just how much she was loving his reactions. 

Khloé dragged her tongue across his balls once more before spitting on them and licking it all back up to his dick. The sound alone made him let out a deep moan. He was past the point of trying to maintain his composure. She was breaking him down one second at a time. 

She slapped his dick against her tongue and looked up at him, the expression on his face swarmed with desperation as his eyebrows furrowed. 

“I think I need to see those eyes when I finally let you cum.” She reached up behind him to untie the blindfold. 

His eyes fluttered open once the blind fold was removed, the soft blend of green and gray filled his irises. He looked at her, the sight sending him right back up the ladder she had just forced him down once again. She stroked his dick, letting the head hit her lips as she stared directly into his eyes. 

“You wanna cum don’t you Mr. Richmond?” She asked, licking him as he opened his mouth to respond. 

“Fuck y-yes.” He whimpered. 

“What’s the magic word?” A sly grin on her face. 

“P-please.” 

She proudly sucked him, allowing her hunger for him to completely take over. He watched her go to work on him. His legs jerked against the restraints, while the muscles in his stomach flexed violently. His dick was beginning to stiffen once again and she kept throating him, still staring directly at him. He closed his eyes tightly, finally releasing all of the built up tension in her mouth. 

“Ah fuuuuuuuck.” His voice roared through the room as she continued sucking, not stopping until his sack was totally empty. His head dropped forward, as his body folded inward on its own. His body jerked again and again as she continued her motion, showing no remorse. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He chanted through clenched teeth, veins popping out his neck.

Finally letting up, she pulled back and rested a hand on his leg. His body slowly began to relax as he let out a deep breath. Opening his eyes, he looked down at her as she stuck her tongue out, mouth full of his DNA. She closed her mouth and swallowed then wrapped her lips around him one last time just to be sure she got all of what she wanted. 

“Ssss-shit.” He hissed, trying to fight against the natural reaction his body was having once again, twitching and jerking against the chair. 

She released her grip and stood to her feet. He took this time to regain his composure. His head hung as he breathed heavily, nostrils flaring with every breath. 

“I’m not done with you.” She pushed the straps of the dress off of her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Straddling him, she placed sloppy kisses down his neck, biting and tugging on his skin. 

Khloé lifted her hips and positioned his semi-hard dick right at her entrance. She slid down slowly, squeezing her walls purposely to watch the agony spread across his face. He clenched his jaw at the feeling of her tight pussy on his now sensitive head. 

Sitting all the way down, she began rolling her hips, bouncing up and down on him. He tried his hardest to avoid her gaze, dropping his head to her shoulder. He didn’t want to tap out but she was doing a number on him. 

“Look at me.” She spat, grabbing his jaw and forcing his eyes back on hers. She bit down on her bottom lip as she continued fucking him. The look on his face was bringing her flood to the surface faster and faster. 

“This dick belongs to me don’t it daddy?” She asked, completely out of her body. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

She continued rocking her hips on him, chasing her own orgasm while also conjuring up another from him. The sounds of her ass slapping against his thighs echoed throughout the room. 

“Are you gonna lie to me again?” 

“N-no ma’am.” He was struggling to hold himself together. 

“Good boy.” 

She threw her head back, completely caught up in her own pleasures. Her hand slid down to his neck, while the other fondled with her nipples. He watched her as she used him like a toy solely for her enjoyment, not caring about his. 

His stomach began to flex once again as her pussy tightened around him. 

“Fuuuck I’m about to cum all over this dick.” She moaned.

Her voice was like kryptonite for him at this point. Announcing her own climax had his coming right along with hers. 

“Oh shit.” He groaned loudly.

“Yes, give it to me!” She demanded through gritted teeth. 

They came in unison, loudly cursing each other until they couldn’t take anymore. Her body bucked along with his as she held onto him with her hands wrapped around the back of his neck. Bringing her movements to a stop, she let out a few deep breaths.

Terry dropped his head, completely wrecked and defeated while the rest of his body went limp. She finally brought her gaze back down to him and placed her head against his. They both sat for a while, silent and out of breath. 

Minutes passed and the room fell completely still. They both returned to their normal states, heartbeats rested, breathing steady. Khloé sat up and looked down at him, gently lifting his chin. His eyes were barely open.

“Omitting information is lying to me. I need to know everything and everyone.” She spoke softly. She caressed his face and placed a kiss on his lips. “Come, shower with me.” 

Terry stepped out of the bedroom and made his way into the kitchen, following the aroma that spread throughout her place. He stopped just a few feet out of her view. Khloe was preparing a late night dinner for the two of them.

He watched as she stood over the stove, flicking her wrists and tossing in seasonings in left and right. She was deep in her element. Her movement around the kitchen was swift, humming to herself, a small smile on her face. 

“You’re not the only one with great ears Mr. Richmond.” She spoke, not bothering to look up at him. “Or should I say ex-Marine.” 

Terry chuckled, finally stepping into the kitchen and taking a seat at the island. After their shower Khloé gave him a plain white T-Shirt and gray sweats to lounge in. Some old clothes she had purchased for an ex-lover that he never got to wear. 

“I didn’t wanna interrupt your flow.” 

She giggled, turning off the eyes on the stove. 

“There’s a very important event coming up and I need you there with me.” She started. 

“What’s the occasion?” 

Khloé let out a deep breath, clearly annoyed. “My mothers 60th birthday party,” She rolled her eyes. “There is no dress code but I would prefer you’d wear an outfit I picked out for you.” 

Khloé reached up into the cabinets next to her refrigerator and grabbed two large white plates. She carefully plated the meal she prepared for Terry and herself. Two 8oz steaks cooked medium, grilled onions, asparagus and creamy mashed potatoes sat beautifully on the expensive plates as she carried them over to him. Grabbing a tall bottle of her favorite red wine from her wine rack, she poured a decent amount into two wine glasses and took a seat next to Terry. 

“This looks really good.” He said in surprise, looking down at his plate. 

“When I’m not traveling to spy on the warehouses, I’m perfecting my cooking skills.” She smiled, taking a sip from her glass. 

“I have to admit, I'm very surprised.” Terry glanced over at her. 

“There’s a lot to learn about me Mr. Richmond.” 

“I’m listening, if you’re interested in sharing Ms. MacArthur.” He said, grabbing his utensils and digging into the meal that sat before him. 

Khloé placed her wine glass down and stared at him. She was only joking but he sat quietly, waiting for her response. She was taken aback at his genuine interest in her. Not her money or her popularity in the city, but simply her. 

She told him all about her dreams of becoming a chef and owning her own restaurant downtown someday. Ever since she was a teenager she loved being in the kitchen and coming up with new recipes. Having rich parents who spent most of their time perfecting the family business and less time building bonds with her caused her to spend most of her younger years studying their private chef as she prepared dinner for the family every night. 

After sharing her dreams and aspirations with her family, her mother in particular didn’t seem to believe that culinary arts should be the path Khloé should choose. Khloés looks were supposed to get her the richest man in town, connected with high class social groups and the privilege of being a housewife and mother to beautiful children.

“MacArthur women do not serve people, people serve MacArthur women.” Khloé stated, mimicking her mothers deep, condescending tone.

Khloé didn't see her future the way that her mother saw it, however disappointing her mother was far worse than going after her own happiness. Although she hated the duties of checking in on the warehouses and attending the events for her family’s business, she didn’t want to be a traitor and ruin her fathers legacy. 

“As long as everyone else is happy, I’m happy.” Khloé finished with a forced grin on her face. 

“Are you really happy?” Terry looked over at her with a raised brow. He could see the obvious discomfort in her face but he didn’t care much, he truly wanted to know.

“I have a nice condo in the heart of the city, I drive luxury vehicles, I have expensive clothing pieces, I have a man at my beck and call. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Terry chuckled at that last part, shaking his head at himself and her. 

“I don’t know-“ Terry started, “-it just seems like living a life that everyone else wants you to live instead of the one you choose would be hell. I mean yeah you have nice things but do you genuinely enjoy them? Or do you feel like you have to because of who helped you get them?” 

Khloé shifted her gaze down to her plate, picking at her potatoes. She wanted so badly to shoot back with a quick witted response but she couldn’t because he was right. But how could she just up and decide to go against everything and everyone who worked so hard to get her here? The thought of it alone brought her a feeling of anxiousness. 

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to upset you.” 

“No it’s fine really.” Khloé stated, stopping him from feeling any guilt about what he had said. “You’re not wrong at all but how can I throw all of this away? I can choose to live a life that is fulfilling and makes me happy but it’s so much easier said than done. The cost would be far too great.” 

Terry shrugged his shoulders and sat back in his chair. 

“I think if you start small and work your way up it’ll get easier as time passes.” Terry laid his fork down on his now empty plate. “You don’t have to make such drastic changes all at once nor do you have to announce it to anybody, just take one step at a time. Before you know it, you’re exactly where you wanna be.” 

She stared at him, hanging on to every word. 

“The cost would be worth it in the end though right?” He asked. 

Khloé looked at his glass that had gone untouched. “You haven’t touched your wine.” She said changing the subject. Terry took note of this but decided against steering back in that direction, not wanting to be too pushy. 

“I don’t drink.” 

“Why not?” 

Terry shook his head as he broke eye contact with her. Memories of the past ran through his mind as he tried to come up with a response. 

“It’s just not for me.” 

Khloé nodded her head slowly before grabbing his glass. “Well it can be for me then.” She joked, tossing the bottom of the glass in the air. 

Terry laughed at her carelessness. As the night went on, Khloé dove right back into her dream restaurant. She told him how she wanted it to look, the food she’d serve, the celebrities that would come and visit just to taste her delicious food. The way she lit up as she spoke so openly about her dream made Terry smile. Her excitement was similar to that of a small child, dreaming fearlessly. 

*BUZZ BUZZ* 

Khloé opened her eyes, frowning from the loud vibrations that were coming from the coffee table. As she slowly came into reality, she could hear soft snoring coming from just above her head. Her hand rested on his chest that rose and fell in a rhythm with every snore. 

*BUZZ BUZZ* 

The cell phone on the table lit up as the loud vibrations continued again. It was Terry's phone. She lifted her head and looked down at the table, annoyed from its loud notifications. Sitting up slowly, making sure not to disturb him, she picked up the phone and read the text message that appeared on the screen. 

Summer:

Can you stop by tomorrow? I’m having some problems with my car. Can’t get it to start. 

Khloé read the text message and looked over at Terry to see him still fast asleep, one arm rested above his head, the other in his lap. The thoughts roaming through her head were becoming louder and louder as she tried to push them away. 

‘You don’t want to be old and alone.’ She could hear her mothers voice loud and clear in her mind. 

Khloé debated on deleting the message so that Terry wouldn’t have a reason to go visit Summer again. She knew her insecurities were getting the best of her and she didn’t want them to ruin this thing she had with Terry, whatever this “thing” was. No matter who she was, there was no amount of money or compliments that would make her feel worthy of having any man by her side. But for the first time in a long time she actually felt seen only after a brief conversation. 

For the first time in almost a decade, she had opened up about something she kept secret. She wasn’t sure if it was the liquor or the amount of comfort she felt while speaking to him, but regardless she didn’t want the feeling to go away so soon. Surprisingly, he hadn’t made her feel as if her dream was far-fetched. After their talk, it actually felt like it could be real someday, like it could be closer than ever before. 

She stared back down at the phone, sighing to herself, she decided to simply turn it off instead. She placed it back down on the table and returned to his chest, shuffling to try and sink deeper into him as she fell back asleep. Naturally he wrapped his arm around her waist, never waking out of his slumber. The more Khloé tried to force herself back to sleep, the more she could hear her mothers voice in her mind.

‘If you don’t make your presence top priority in a man’s life, you’ll lose him to someone less deserving.’ 

to be continued… 

[carolmunson]

orange colored sky (older!modern!eddie)

older!modern!eddie - setlist inspired by the fact that i fall in love with someone new every time i got to trader joe's and @loveshotzz new older!steve series. manip by my fave @eddiemunsons-missingnipple tw: nothing really, very much a meet cute at a grocery store. eddie is in his early 40s, reader is late-late 20s/early 30s. lemme know if you guys want this to be a whole thing.

the automatic doors rush cool air into your face, a sweet reprieve from the sticky heat of this summer. a much muggier july than you remember having as a kid. but then again, you don't remember that much about being a kid these days. trader joe's is a little busier than usual, which makes sense with the holiday weekend coming up -- but you hate when it's busy. there's already too many sounds -- some summer 90s playlist and the squeaks of the carts, people in their hawaiian shirts milling around with boxes and box cutters. you just want some snap peas for god sakes. 

you grab a basket and adjust your canvas bags on your shoulder, tossing your headphones in them for later. you feel 'running errands ugly' but everyone seeing you in the bike shorts you threw on this morning doesn't think that view is ugly at all. your music drowned it out on the train ride over here. you're already sort of annoyed. people just don't know how to do anything anymore -- why are we just standing in front of produce. get what you need and go! you think hastily. but you wait for people to stop gawking at the produce and make their selection before you grab the romaine, snap peas, and shredded brussel sprouts you need. when you turn you almost walk entirely into someone's cart, eyes flitting up briefly and muttering a 'sorry, s'cuse me'.

can everyone just get off my fucking ass? you huff to yourself internally. you maneurver over to fruits, a few stands in a row -- citrus, apples, berries. all separated by category in large cargo looking boxes. you snag a big box of cherries, the three pound one, knowing you'll go through the small ones too fast. you frown over the lack of watermelon, continuing along while someone turns the corner into your aisle. you look up for a moment, just to scan your surroundings, to see who it is.

 you've never seen him before, but you've never seen anyone here before. it's not like there's regulars at the grocery store in a city like this. his hands hang over the handle to his cart by the wrists, knuckles tattooed in shapes you can't make out. you follow the leather banded watch up to a full sleeve of ink, only obscured by the start of a cuffed t-shirt sleeve, a crisp white that blinds against the black of the elvira pin up tattoo on his tricep. horror icons blending into each other seamlessly. you can see more black and color peeking out from the collar of his shirt --vintage judas priest, mint condition, tucked comfortably under a well perserved denim vest covered in patches of bands you've never heard of. you're surprised by the black chino shorts on his bottom half, not expecting someone who was clearly still stuck in their grunge phase to wear those over cut off jeans. the busted up reebok's on his feet make up for it though -- pairing nicely with the tattoos on his calves and thighs, not quite sleeves, but enough to make a statement. 

you grab a box of strawberries and pop them into your basket, surveying the mangos on the top shelf at your eye level while he maneuvers behind you. you think he's cute but you don't take too much stock in it -- it's so like you to have a 'train boyfriend' or 'trader joe's boyfriend' for a brief moment in time. someone cute that you spot outside and never speak to. it's one of those days.

he has brown eyes and thick lashes, hair dark wrapped in a bun on the top of his head with streaks of silver poking through, bangs in his face. some curls stick to the heated skin by his neck and jaw. not that you're looking. the scruff on his face is littered with salt and pepper -- maybe that part of him aging more than the rest. he grabs a heap of bananas to his nearly empty cart. he also has a big box of cherries in there. he wears a cologne with spice and suede in the notes, it's familiar, a little smoky. maybe an old boyfriend used to wear it. you shrug it off, grabbing a mango or two and popping it in a produce bag before hocking it in. more veggies for a greek salad. an onion. some pre-packaged turkey slices. 

you turn into the first frozen food section, weaving through more people who just stand there and you grit your teeth. you snag some frozen broccoli, the coolness bringing you a moment of calm so that you don't lose your mind inside the store. more like traitor joe's. you grab a few more things, a veggie medley for a tofu scramble, some scallion pancakes that you’ll use as meal replacement because no matter how many times you think you’ll food prep you never do. you see him at the end of the aisle, rifling through bags of frozen shrimp to find one he likes. you notice he has a ring on but it’s on his pointer finger, two more rings on the hand that holds his cart by his hip – a silver chain dangles from what you assume is his wallet in his back pocket. his keys jingle from a carabiner by his front belt loop. slut, you think to yourself. you grab a bag of small frozen salmon filets, not paying much mind to your grocery store boyfriend of the week when you turn the corner to the next frozen food aisle. he’s there not soon after you, grabbing frozen fruit medleys and a few bars of chocolate on the non-frozen shelving above. you aren’t sure if he sees you, but you see him. you can smell the suede and spice of his cologne as his moves past you to the other end. bread is on the back wall of the store, you want to get sourdough but you know you’ll just eat it plain and not make sandwiches so you opt for the tuscan loaf instead. you snag a bag of mini bagels, forgoing the small baguettes this time. you can’t afford the good burrata this week for any special girl dinner you come up with, so it’s best to not have it around if you can’t pair it with anything pretty. further down the back wall you get to snacks and don’t ignore the bag of yogurt covered pretzels – a basket must. seaweed snacks for salmon rice bowls. plantain chips. Your basket feels a little heavy but at least this errand is almost over. you turn down the pasta, beans, and rice aisle and there he is turning down the other end. you both catch each other this time, because this time feels like it’s not a coincidence. you both break eye contact as quickly as you make it, both of you looking down and smiling to yourselves. you feel the heat on your cheeks but you don’t see his blush, both of you too preoccupied with whatever you have to pick up to pay attention to the other. you smell the suede and smoke even after you lose him to the next couple of aisles. 

pre-packaged tortellini, lox, shredded cheese. chicken thighs. a six pack of some pretty sounding beer you’ve never tried. your basket overflows but it’s fine. the errand is over, at least here, before you need to run into target which for some reason is far less overstimulating. he’s a few people ahead of you on the opposite line, still leaning over the edge of his cart with his hands hanging, one thumbing a text to someone before he stands up fully to push the cart ahead. he looks over his shoulder and your eyes briefly meet for a moment – heat on your cheeks – before he moves ahead to turn down the long row of cashiers to pay. you don’t see him when it’s your turn and by the time you’re done paying you’ve already forgotten about him, lost in a flirty conversation with the guy ringing you up. target only has half of what you need and that’s fine because nothing else will fit in the big canvas bags you brought with you for your groceries and it’s at least an eight minute walk back to the train. you groan when you get back out into the heat, the boiler room of the subway cooking you as you make it down to the platform. a pleasant sigh passes your lips when you see it’s at least only a four minute wait until your train makes it to you – only a few more minutes of suffering before you’re on your way back to your air conditioned studio apartment. you look across the platform where some old lady’s push cart rattles as it makes it down the stairs on the other side. her little body walking ahead, a voice saying ‘i got it, ma’am don’t worry,’ echos down into the chamber of the subway.

there he is. a canvas bag on each arm filled to the brim and the push cart lifted in front of him. while you can’t see from this distance, you have a feeling you’d like how his arms looked at full capacity like this. the cart’s metallic jingle continues when he places it on the concrete ground, pushing it over to the woman who now sits pleasantly on the bench. you watch their conversation while they say quiet ‘thank yous’ and ‘your welcomes’ to each other and he checks his phone while he finds a spot to stand, waiting for his train on the opposite side.

you check your phone just the same and look up again as he puts his phone in the pocket of his vest. his attention catches on you from across the way.

he gives you a small wave and smiles. he has a nice smile, infectious.

“hi.”

you wave back with two fingers, a small salute, “hey.”

“i’m eddie,” he starts as the red glow of the light on your train starts to pull in. 

the chug, chug, chug starting to drown him out. he raises his voice with a boyish grin, you hear him just before the train obscures him from view – whooshing past you as it pulls into the station. “i normally go to trader’s on wednesdays!”

you get on the train when the doors open, seeing him still on the platform, searching for you in the windows. you put your hand up again in an awkward wave and he grins when he finds you. ‘stand clear of the closing doors, please!’ he puts a hand back up with two fingers, mouthing out a message. ‘wednesdays around two.’

you give him the okay symbol with your fingers and nod at him, chuckling at the ridiculousness of the situation, he chuckles too. his smile is pretty, lips are full. his two fingers point to his eyes and then at you – ‘see you then’. 

the train pulls away before you get a chance to reply. 

next

[aklaustaleteller]

Christmas Eve

It's their third date, and Y/n still hasn't gotten used to his angelic face. And it seems like, Klaus feels the same.

Warnings: Genuinely none! Just some tooth-rotting fluff :)

Word Count: 1.0k

Masterlist | Please reblog the work to share!

Hii! It's been a very, very long time since we've shared some quality time over a fic! And hey, this one isn't any good, so don't get your hopes up. I just really wanted to post a little something for Christmas, since I've been so terrible with posting lately. Hope this bad treat makes up anyways. <3

The fireplace was crackling, slight flickers of the fire reaching up towards the great sky. Y/n was sitting on the carpeted floor a couple small steps away, eyes squinted as she tried to read as best as she could in the dim lighting.

As she took a deep breath, the smell of her scented candle made her savour the moment for a second. With her eyes closed, she smelt the pine trees. Then slowly, the smell of the first snow drifted in, along with that of the biscuits her mother had baked earlier in the morning. 

And then, she heard a woof. It was her pet dog, Milo, running around wildly in the deep snow, his face upwards and tongue hanging out as if he was trying to catch the flakes. “Milo!” She called out to him when her father called out to her to come back inside. 

Cold was all she felt when Milo jumped on her, licking her face eagerly as she chortled at the same time while trying to tackle the little gremlin away from her.

Click! She heard, and looked over just in time to catch her father checking out the photo he had just captured.

When she opened her eyes now, there was a sheen layer of tears pooling on the bottom lash line. She sniffled, and let the tears slip with a smile on her face. 

This was the first ever Christmas that she was spending without her family. Even when she’d been abroad for university, she’d been on facetime with them for more than half of the day. 

But her parents were snowstormed-in back in Antarctica, stuck in the home without any electricity. Y/n wasn’t too worried since it was nothing new – just a little too early on the door this season. 

Although it was when her eyes drifted towards the clock that Y/n panicked. Scrambling, she got off the floor and ran to her room to change into the outfit she had picked out earlier in the noon. 

Klaus was going to come anytime now, and she’d hate to open the door only for him to see her still wrapped in her blanket. 

She slipped on a summer t-shirt, then a full sleeve tee over it. Then she put on a turtle neck, and over it she put on a sweater. Underneath, she wore a pair of blue jeans. 

And she had just opened the bathroom door when the doorbell rang. Cursing, she raced out of her room, took two deep breaths before opening the door. 

The smile on her face dropped, and everything went still. Only the soft curls on his head were dancing in the wind outside, everything else was completely frozen. Even his smile, and his dimples.

Jerking, she opened the door wider while looking at the floor in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, turning back around only to forget everything once again as he stood two steps away from her, his hands in his coat-pockets.

This was their third date, and still, she hadn’t grown used to his angelic face.

“You look very handsome,” she stated truly, looking him in the eyes. He doubled over, chuckling like suddenly shy.

“I’m not joking!” She exclaimed, moving around him to walk to her room. 

“Thank you,” he hardly said through his big smile.

She turned to check whether he was following her or not, and that was when she caught a bright colour spread across his cheeks – whether it was pink or red, she couldn’t quite decipher in the dim lighting. But what she could tell was that she wanted to see it again, and again, and again; and memorise that shade as her favourite.  

Klaus cleared his throat. “You look… not prepared, but flawless nonetheless,” he shrugged. 

“Oh, thank you,” she smiled sweetly, urging him to sit on her bed as she opened the bathroom door. 

She left the door open as she stood right there at the entryway, in front of the mirror. 

"Happy Christmas Eve, by the way," she spoke as she applied her lip liner. “I’ll just take five more minutes,” she followed up quickly, meekly.

“Happy Christmas Eve, Y/n," she could just hear the smile in his voice but still she stole a glance at him to make sure -- and he truly was. "And take your time! I was just about to say that your smile is rather lovely.”

“And so you’ve told me, a hundred times, actually.” Y/n turned to look at him with a grin on her face, putting an earring in one ear.

“And again, thank you,” she whispered. Then, putting in the other earring, she looked at him while he studied her room. 

“You read …a lot, it seems,” he noticed out loud, eyes set on the pile of books stacked in the corner of her room. And on her desk, and bedside table. 

“Do you enjoy reading?” She asked him quite distantly, making him frown. 

When Klaus shifted his focus, he noticed her struggling with the clasp of her necklace. “Oh absolutely, but poetry more than novels,” he answered her, walking over in long strides. 

Her fingers immediately shied away from his cold ones when they brushed, and the silence made her breathing feel more erratic than it truly was – or so she hoped that she didn’t sound as embarrassing as she thought. 

When he was done, his hand brushed against the curve of her back. He walked backwards, still looking at her in the mirror as she tried to hide her furious blush by looking for her lipstick. 

She twisted her hair into a bun, clutched it and looked at her face closely in the mirror. Klaus was looking outside the window under which she had placed her desk when she came back outside wearing her long coat. 

Clearly, he noticed her reflection in the glass because he turned around with a smile on his face. 

She was wrapping a maroon scarf around her neck when he said quietly, “you finished up nice,” while nodding. 

Y/n took a quick bow, making him chuckle. 

“Let us leave, then,” she suggested, holding her purse in the crook of her elbow. 

As they walked outside, she heard him blow out the scented-candle and looked at him gratefully in return – to which, he simply nodded with a dimpled smile – just enough to make her feel like something was glowing inside her chest.

[steviewashere]

Flames of Desire

Rating: General CW: NoneTags: Post-Canon, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Christmas, Light Miscommunication, Getting Together, Love Confessions, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fireplace As a Plot Device, Hot Chocolate as a Plot Device, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, First Kiss, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Sappy Ending This is for the Spicy Six-Ber Month Challenge, hosted by the wonderful @thefreakandthehair. I claimed the prompt: Fireplace.

❄️————————❄️ There’s a stack of watched, rented VHS tapes on the coffee table. Next to two half-empty mugs of hot chocolate, rapidly cooling from the mountains of whipped cream he had been egged into topping them with. And a warm body pressed from shoulder to foot next to him on the couch, watching on at the static ripples of Michael J. Fox’s face in Family Ties, television propped in the corner of the living room, volume low because their eyes have been dipping and dipping like toes into a prepped bubble bath—close to that pure, utter, and complete relaxation they’re craving.

His head is nestled awkwardly on Eddie’s right shoulder, propped up by a bony joint and his ear alone, and his neck is aching something awful, yet he’s simultaneously too comfortable to move. Eddie’s tracing his fingertips over Steve’s own right shoulder, his bicep, connecting moles that aren’t showing right now—somehow memorized by times where his shirt was peeled off, probably sometime in the late summer under an unforgiving sun, ready to sink into a pool he’s recently learned to not fear. And something is full inside him.

Full and large like the red-orange shifting flames coming from the centerpiece of the living room, the beloved fireplace he’s known to light since his dad showed him how. The Duraflame log lit up behind the screen, crackling low and painting the side of Eddie with the glow.

Eddie’s eyes do something beautiful because of the light. Glowing in their own way. Going from dark chocolate melted for their mugs to drizzles of honey swirling in spiced chai. Deliciously gorgeous no matter which way Steve observes them, even as cliche as it is to compare them to chocolate. They’re dark, though, the same way logs are for the fireplace. Dark, but made to be comforting. He hums, eyes still roaming over Eddie’s soft face, and keeps his neck angled sharply. The discomfort is worth it, here under Eddie’s warmth, his beauty, the heavily saturated love that flows through Steve—even if he tries to push it away.

We’re friends, he tells himself, not for the first time.

Something’s different about this one, though. Charged. He never felt this sort of adoration, this ember to full-blown bonfire in his chest. Never towards Tommy. Definitely not towards Robin, but there’s adoration there, too—different.

This one is coffee and pancakes, maple syrup smiles, and groggy giggles at the dining table. Candles with slow burn wax, vanilla wafts and cinnamon flames. Reruns and greasy pizza dinners, breadsticks from the same bag, wiping marinara from each other’s faces because the other can’t find it. T-shirts lost, coming back with amber-musk cologne and citrus-lavender detergent, soft sleeves and worn graphics, apologies loose from the tongue, covered by soft snorts and playful eye rolls—“don’t worry about it, at least it’s back.”

A vest he has yet to return, blood-free and loose strings stitched. The collar white-worn from how many times he’s stroked his thumbs over the fabric. Its weight in his lap, contemplated over time and time again. Questions forming in his brain about what Accept plays and who Judas Priest is; a tape stuffed in his bedside drawer, rewound and played again, The Last in Line. Handfuls of dice with polished edges, promises to himself that he’ll gift them this time, next time, some time.

Falling in love.

One slow step at a time.

Burning up with it now like the log in the fireplace. Slow and then all at once. Dancing, warming, glowing. Not like the weak foundations of a house; akin to relationships in the past that were one-sided, collapsing under its own weight. This friendship he has with Eddie is give one, take one. One foot in, then a hand, two bodies on a couch, bellies full of hot chocolate and Christmas gold coins from this morning—Eddie’s stocking dumped over his lap, “I’m sharing my fortune,” he had told Steve, “let’s eat up, sweetheart.”

Eddie brought him a gift.

A sweater he eyed at the mall in the town over. Some Macy’s sweater, an ochre yellow like his other one, the price tag noticeably missing. But Eddie’s smile—his smile—dimples proud and teeth shiny, eyes crinkled, honey brown from the glow of fire. He excused the rosiness of his cheeks to the fireplace, the heat of the room, the gentle breeze still coming in under the front door.

And he had handed over his own little wrapped thing. …And Justice For All tied off with a ribbon, ready to be popped into Eddie’s Walkman. Two years of friendship culminating, little gifts here and there, knowing Eddie would’ve gone looking. He steered Eddie away from the Metallica section of their local record store; only for a couple months, but it felt like a lifetime. He presented the tape with his own smile, with laughter when Eddie’s hands shook and he tumbled about the living room on jumping legs—all signs of sleep that previously exuded, gone in a single rip, pried away with the wrapping paper on the floor.

Jokingly, Eddie had smacked a wet kiss to Steve’s cheek.

He took the scraps like a starving dog.

If that was all he could get, it would suffice. They were happy. And close.

Closer, now. Burning fire, Family Ties, coin wrappers, hot chocolate mugs. And Eddie’s honey glistening eyes, dark like firewood, lightened by that sweetener.

Eddie looks away from the screen, mouth open with words poised, and spots Steve already on him. “Hey,” he says instead of what he planned, “somethin’ on my face?” There’s a sort of sleepy sweet gargle to his voice, deep in the vowels and loose on the consonants—like he can’t quite bother to clear his throat, too busy with already speaking, already looking directly at Steve. He watches Eddie make a show of trying to clean off his face, merely smearing his palm over his rosy cheeks.

“No,” Steve breathes, “just…” This close, pressed against each other, he can hear each soft intake of Eddie’s breath. He squishes his face deeper into Eddie’s shoulder, suppressing the urge to do something stupid; like grin without reason; like kiss him. Yeah, that’d be pretty dumb. “‘M really glad you came over today,” he murmurs.

Once more, Eddie glints. Smile stretched slow, teeth light orange from the flames, tired eyes, and pink cheeks. There’s chocolate in the corner of his mouth, now that he’s really looking, soaking in all of Eddie’s features; Steve’s fingers tingle with the urge to reach up and swipe it away. Eddie breathes out a chuckle, not sharp and brash like it normally would, but reserved—comfortable; private. “I’m glad I came over, too,” he says, speaking soft, “no place I’d rather be, honestly.”

“Even though you could’a spent the day with Wayne?” And it feels right, especially private, to keep his voice low, too.

“I mean…he understood, y’know? We usually do our holiday stuff the day after Christmas anyway. So.” Eddie shrugs minutely. “You invited me over for a date, sweetheart, I couldn’t say no. ‘Sides, I’ve been tiptoeing towards this for awhile.”

All at once, the room’s warmth evaporates from Steve’s limbs. He goes cold, frozen, completely and utterly still. His head pulls up quickly from Eddie’s shoulder, neck pleading from the movement. “Wh…what?”

“This date. I’ve been looking forward to it for a bit. I’d be stupid to pass it up.”

“Wait…wait wait wait. You thought this was a date?”

That makes Eddie freeze. His thumb still running over Steve’s bicep comes to a stuttering halt. Head whipping over, big bug eyes landing on Steve’s. Wide and caught and wholly confused. Meekly, “Is this…is this not a date?”

“Um…I…um, no?”

Just as fast as he froze, Eddie is pulling himself away. Arm falling from Steve’s shoulders, jumping a few inches away, keeping his hands to himself. “Oh…oh, fuck. Steve—I—I swear, man, I thought this was…oh, this is so embarrassing.” He tugs at the ends of his hair, face coloring a bright red, pink cheeks going pinker in the yellow-orange glow. Somehow, even now, Steve finds him still endearingly beautiful. “Jeez. And I…I was thinking of kissing you, too! I mean you didn’t need to hear that, but I—Oh my god, I should go.”

A part of Steve melts, just as plastic does in fire—quick and nauseous and horrible. And Eddie’s standing up from the couch, further flipping Steve’s now upset stomach, trying to get away from it all. But he’s faster.

Faster still.

He reaches out and tugs on Eddie’s right wrist, bringing him flopping back down on the sofa. Eddie looks to him again, just as startled and eerily fearful as before.

Steve can’t make his mouth spit out the words he should. All those things he’d been thinking. How beautiful Eddie is. The slow moments over the last two years, every moment one increment closer to getting what he truly wants. He should be nonsensical. Explain. Paint the picture. Just as he did in the past for other people he fell face first for.

But Eddie’s looking at him. At him. Honey eyes. Pink cheeks. Plump lips.

The chocolate in the corner of his mouth both from their drinks and the coins. That scar he received for trying to buy more time, silver and soft and healed on his jaw. His hair cascading to his shoulders, heavy and dark. And him just alive on the couch, here to share the holiday, lit by the fireplace, cozy in a Christmas sweater and sweatpants. Soft. Sweet. Sacred.

He leans in, slowly as to give Eddie time to dodge, but when he doesn’t—it’s a simple decision from there. Closing his eyes, even if he’s reluctant to do so, reluctant to not see Eddie’s beauty. But he kisses him. Once, tender, slow moving with his lips. Their mouths sticky when he begins to draw back for a second, but he doesn’t get the chance to pull away completely, Eddie is welcoming himself back in. Hands cupping Steve’s cheeks, fingers pushing lightly into the soft give of his face, firm where they’re placed, but overall gentle.

Eddie’s hungry with how he kisses. As if needing this. It’s a little sloppy, the way he drags his lips, but Steve doesn’t care. They’re kissing. Sweet and sugary and milk chocolate on their tongues, when they introduce them to each other. Slow, but sure. New.

Though, Steve kindles a new flame—one flickering in his chest, warm and fragile—a candle, a firebox where this kiss is the first of many.

When he opens his eyes, Eddie’s already looking at him. Looking at him, looking at him.

“I didn’t know it was a date,” Steve whispers.

Breathing a chuckle, Eddie swipes his hands tenderly down the sides of Steve’s neck, setting in the crooks of his arms, heavy as they lay. “I didn’t either, sweetheart.” Those molten eyes bounce briefly, left and right; there’s something laying in them that Steve’s never really seen directed at him before, gooey and tender. Maybe that’s love? “So…so that was a pretty great addition to that Christmas gift, huh?”

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs, words bright with his smile, “guess it is. Wish I knew it was a date.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm. I would’a made us a nicer dinner instead of ordering pizza.”

“Next time, sweetheart. We’ll make a whole shebang of it. Keep the fireplace lit, have more hot chocolate, watch a bunch of movies…and we’ll have spaghetti and I’ll kiss you later that night and taste the tomato sauce you made. I bet it would still taste good.”

Steve wriggles slightly in his seat, hands wrangling up for Eddie’s, gripping to them hard. He can’t contain his bubbling excitement, stirring and stirring and swirling inside him. He’s too warm, under his pajamas, from the fire, from the love overcoming him. And he can’t stop smiling. Stretched wide, cheeks bulbous—so big he almost can’t see—eyes squinting hard. “Y’don’t know what my spaghetti tastes like, Eds,” he protests.

“Bet it would taste like that kiss did, though. Made with your love?”

He giggles and sways and swoons. “That was so corny.”

“Yeah, but I’m not wrong, am I?”

“No,” Steve sighs, relenting. He couldn’t even hide in his own hands. Face too bright and his body too vibrant and his heart pounding too hard, hard enough it could probably be heard if the television were turned down just a smidge. His stomach flips, a good way this time. And he’s too aware of the fact that his palms are clammy, fingers gripping too tight to Eddie’s hands, not wanting to let go. “Is it that obvious how I feel?”

Eddie lifts up one of his hands, squeezing his index finger and thumb together closely. “A little bit,” he says, “but it’s cute, Stevie. Could tell the moment I saw you lookin’ at me, your eyes all over me. Don’t even think you could see how I was looking at you, baby.”

“How were you looking at me?”

“Like I’m in love,” Eddie easily answers. “Because I am. Have been. For a long while now.”

“Really?” Steve breathes. “You’re in love with me?”

“Mhm. I love you to the moon and back, sweetheart.”

Steve squeezes their hands again. The fireplace crackles. There’s still chocolate on Eddie’s mouth. His heart beats hard, gazing deep into those swirls of honey, and it’s all so right. “I love you, too,” he murmurs, “been wanting to say that for forever.”

Tugging gently on their joined hands, Eddie begins to lean back on the sofa. “Come on, baby, let’s cuddle a while longer. Maybe we can gaze at each other some more?”

“Nothing else I’d rather do.”

❄️————————❄️

[mystsee]

sweet encounter ✦ simon ghost riley

✦ content: nsfw, make out, dry humping, clit rubbing, hand jobs, cum play, touch starved, hand kink, bicep adoration, biker!simon, civilian au, no mentions of y/n, tension, a lot of bike content lol, rave.

✦ about: on halloween night, you and your best friend kill time at a local car and bike meet before heading to a rave later. he’s caught up in his car obsession, but for you — it’s all about the bikes.

your attention is drawn to a mysterious man in a skull balaclava, standing over his own bike—one of your favorites. somehow, you end up talking with him, and you…you invite him to a halloween rave with u!

and he - he’ll join you, with you— on his bike.

because he’s not letting a pretty little thing like you, go away.

✦ ✦ ✦

it was halloween tonight, meaning rave night. you and jason, your best friend, absolutely loved that, but what you also both liked? car meets, and tonight, they were both. the good thing is you both knew the later you arrived to the rave, the better. and what better way to kill time than admiring some cars?

well him— for you, it was all about the bikes. they were your absolute obsession for almost a year now. that’s why you always accompanied him to them, you knew there were going to be bikes in here for you to lay your heart full eyes on.

thing is, you admired them, been on them before, but have one? no. the money was the tough part. you dreamed of having one, but the savings don’t get to the goal that fast :(, so for now, admiring them was enough for you.

that’s why you where now perched up on the hood of a car, next to jason, close to the bikes, pretending to be hearing their conversations, but your eyes where focused on the bikes, loving the sounds when they revved the motor, that sound so loud, so commanding, you loved it. you were almost straining your neck for how hard you were looking at the bikes.

your eyes started to wander over the other row of bikes, when suddenly you saw a man, with a mask, a skull mask to be more precise, his huge biceps on the gas tank of the bike, talking to one of his friends, you supposed. he was wearing a black shirt, a simple black t-shirt, making you wonder how the fuck was he not freezing off?

it was just october but the weather has been dropping low very very fast, you loved the cold though, so not that you were complaining, but you were very sensitive to it, hence why you were dressed a bit more covered than him. you were wearing a black knitted short dress with long sleeves that accentuated your waist very nice because it was very tight, over your black warm leggings/tights with fluffy boots.

the dress was not that revealing but you could admit you loved the shape it gave you, it stopped right over the middle of your ass, giving a small glimpse of it, enough to be sexy though. and you made it yourself, especially for when it was cold, because you knew it would keep you warm. you were also wearing a small black scarf because the wind was very chilly and you hated when your face started getting red because of the air.

even though you were wearing all this, you were slightly shivering, yet the mysterious skull mask guy was as if it was summer! you weren’t complaining though, you could see his huge biceps over the tshirt, making you almost drool. they were huge and defined, flexing with the slightest of movement, creating deep lines of muscle.

but then, you realized again where his biceps were over, with his arms crossed over the gas tank of the bike, it was big, the gas tank, snapping you out of your drooling stare of this hot ass man, even though you have not seen his face. you started looking all over his bike, admiring every single detail. it was black, completely black with a matte finish, making it appear almost velvety. the dark chrome accents on the wheels and the bike's fairings were smooth and sculpted, with sharp lines that created a very aggressive dark aesthetic.

the front of the bike had a tall, tinted windscreen, giving it a menacing and intimidating look, just like his owner. it was after all your admiring, you realized…

it was one of your dream bikes. a yamaha r1. making your breath halt for a second. you couldn’t contain the excitement you started feeling, it was the first time you ever saw one in real life! it was so gorgeous, so menacing, so intimidating, you loved it. you were so deep into your adoration, you didn’t realize a certain someone was staring at you as well.

simon was talking to his friends, johnny and keegan. they were bikers like him, making his night rides more enjoying, they were a bit more loose than him though, more social, but he didn’t mind, he liked the feeling of being there.

so when johnny told him there would be a bike meet today on halloween night, and that they would definitely go, he knew he had no saying in it. besides, it was his chance to use his skull balaclava he always used under his helmet in public, with no weird stares on him. it was halloween night after all.

“c’mon lass, pretty girls are probably going to be dressed up tonight there, and you know, the bikes are like a moth to a flame to them” johnny said laughing. “you mean us, johnny” simon was no naive, he knew some women liked the bikers, not the bike itself. not that it bothered him, but he just never reacted to the attention. johnny on the other side, he was more than happy for that, and keegan, well, he was a natural flirt.

that’s why when he felt a certain heated gaze on him, he actually turned his face to find it. why? he didn’t know, his body reacted on his own, and it found you. a mesmerizing sight that captivated him instantly. your features were soft and enchanting, framed by the dim light of the meet, casually sitting your cute ass on top of the hood of a very expensive car. you were lost in thought, eyes roaming over his bike with an intensity that hinted your passion for it.

as you chewed your lower lip in concentration, he felt a heat rising within him, why was he fixated on your lips, so inviting and alluring? it was as if you were completely unaware of his presence, caught up in the beauty of the machine before you, stirring something primal inside him.

and he. couldn’t. look. away.

you kept admiring every single detail of the bike, your heart racing with euphoria at the sight of your dream bike—so close, yet just out of reach. each line, every curve of the bike drew you in deeper, as if nothing else mattered. you took a deep breath, feeling the thrill of the moment, and then, almost instinctively, your gaze shifted upward.

you saw him again —the mysterious man in the skull mask, and you froze. his eyes were already on you, locked in with a focus that sent a wave of heat through your body. there was something about the way he was looking at you—intense, unwavering, as if he was seeing right through you.

his gaze was dark, drawing you in without a word. it wasn’t the car he was admiring—it was you. the depth in his eyes made the air between you crackle with tension, and for a moment, it was as if the world had melted away, leaving only the two of you. you maintained the stare as well, feeling an unexpected thrill building inside you. there was something intoxicating about the silent exchange, and without thinking, you gave him a small, teasing smile—just a subtle curve of your lips.

but the intensity of his gaze was too much for your already racing heart, the heat of it almost overwhelming. after a few seconds of seeing he didn’t react, just stared at your lips, you turned your head away, trying to steady yourself, his eyes still burning into you long after you looked away.

it had been way too long since you'd had any real contact with the opposite gender, making every small interaction feel like something more to your hopeful heart. that’s why you turned back to your friends, taking deep breaths to calm the sudden rush of nerves.

who was this mysterious, sexy-as-hell man, and why did just one look from him have you feeling so undone?

simon kept staring at you, his gaze lingering long after you turned away. and you—you could feel it. his stare burned into your back, sending shivers down your spine and goosebumps across your skin. your heart raced faster, and suddenly, it felt impossibly hot, like the air around you had thickened. since when did it get so hot in here?

“you okay there?” jason asked suddenly, startling you. your mind had drifted to a whole different place after locking eyes with the mysterious man. huh? “what?” you replied, breathless as you turned your head towards him.

“are you okay? your face went red all of a sudden” he teased, laughing under his breath. did he see you?

jason knew all about your obsession with bikes. hell, he was the one who helped fuel it, always taking you to these meets just so you could get close to the machines you loved. sometimes, he even went out of his way to talk to bikers, setting up moments for you to check out their bikes—or better yet, go on them. for that, you were always thankful.

although, he knew you too well. he knew how touch-starved you were, how long you’ve been without loving affection. he’d even spent hours hugging you, just to fill the void you never talked about, all in a friendly way of course, but that didn’t make him any less annoying when someone caught your attention.

“yeah, i’m okay” you said, frowning at jason. he just laughed again, ruffling your hair. what is he on about? was your face really red? you thought the scarf would help with the cold (although you knew it was because of the skull-masked man, and how just a glance from him had made you feel hot and bothered)

your mind drifted back to him again. you decided not to look back—god knew how crazy obsessed you could get with a small crush, and the last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself in front of jason and his friends. one of jason’s buddies sat down next to you and started talking.

“pretty cool, right?” he said. you turned to him, confused as to what he meant. he caught the look in your eyes and chuckled softly. “this, my car” he added, gesturing to where you were sitting. oh. you decided to be playful. “yeah, pretty comfortable” you said with a teasing smile.

he laughed—maybe a bit too much—and shook his head. “ever been on a Lambo?” he asked. you hadn’t, but the truth was, you didn’t really care. cars didn’t do much for you, not like they did for jason. “no, i prefer bikes” you said with a small laugh. his eyebrows shot up. “oh, a biker girl!” he grinned.

that made you exhale a soft breath. “not exactly” you replied, breaking eye contact and glancing around the lot. he nodded, but then from the corner of your eye, you noticed him scoot a little closer, arms crossed. they were almost as big as the skull-masked man’s, but they didn’t compare. not even close.

“hm, a girl like you—pretty and all—must have a boyfriend, right?” he asked, his tone casual but his intent obvious. the subtle question caught you off guard, making you uncomfortable. you didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered a little too long, like he was trying to poke your interest.

you shifted in your seat, not liking where the conversation was headed. “no, i’m not really looking for one” you replied quickly, offering a polite but forced smile. it wasn’t that jason’s friends were bad guys, but you had no interest in getting tangled up in one of his friendships. besides , your thoughts were elsewhere—back with the man in the skull mask, who was still on your mind far more than he should’ve been.

he didn’t give up easily, though. the guy leaned in closer, his arm brushing yours, and you instinctively moved to the left, putting more space between you. but it wasn’t just you feeling the shift—simon noticed, oh, he noticed. his gaze hadn’t left you, and he could see the subtle way you edged away, your discomfort clear as the guy inched closer.

simon’s eyes darkened. was he jealous? maybe. he didn’t stop to think about it. his arms uncrossed, and he reached down to the revving area of his bike, his fingers gripping the throttle. without hesitation, he revved the engine—loud, fierce, and sudden. the roar of the bike was deafening, cutting through the chatter and making everyone around nearly jump out of their skin.

the guy next to you flinched, startled by the noise, and quickly pulled back. you couldn’t help but glance at the mysterious skull masked man again, whose eyes were locked now onto you, the rumble of his bike still echoing in the air. you felt your heart race again, but this time, it wasn’t just because of the noise.

he had removed his mask, revealing his god-like face to the world just like that, and damn if it didn’t make your cheeks burn all over again. he was ridiculously handsome—his sharp features, soft blonde hair falling over his eyebrows, and a face that was both dangerously menacing and painfully perfect. gorgeous wasn’t enough of a word for him.

your eyes drifted down to where his hand rested—right over the throttle of his bike. you caught the intense way his gaze flicked toward the guy sitting next to you, did he see all of that? did he purposely rev his bike in that moment? was this some kind of divine timing?

your heart raced, wondering if he had just stepped in to claim his space without a word, and somehow, that only made your pulse quicken more. you were probably being delusional, thinking he revved the engine for you. but then your brain proved you right when his gaze shifted back to you. he noticed you taking in his face, your eyes lingering on every sharp line and feature. and then he smirked—a small, teasing curve of his lips that sent your heart into a frenzy.

when your eyes met his again, he nodded at you. it was subtle but unmistakable. your breath hitched. was he really nodding at you? was this happening? you didn’t respond, too caught up in the shock of the moment. he let go of the throttle, resuming his relaxed stance over the gas tank, but then—casually, confidently—he motioned for you to come over.

it was so effortless, so damn sexy, like he knew exactly the effect he had on you. your face felt like it was on fire, and your heart? it was ready to stop altogether. you froze, completely unsure of what to do. to prove to yourself that he was actually acknowledging you, you raised your finger toward yourself, shaking lightly. you couldn’t help it, this was the most attention you’d had from someone you were possibly attracted to in a long time!

your eyes stayed locked on him when you raised your finger, and he just he nodded again, just as effortlessly as before. you could feel your heart pounding so hard it hurt, a rush of heat rising to your cheeks. what the hell was happening?

as you turned to your best friend, you caught his gaze—his lips curling into a small, teasing smile. “uh, I’ll be right back?” you mumbled, frowning at him, but jason just laughed again, smirking. “yeah! take your time” rolling your eyes, you stood up from the car, walking past him, playfully hitting his arm. “idiot” you muttered, hearing his laughter trail off behind you.

you made your way around the car, and as soon as you did, you locked eyes with the skull man once more. his gaze was still fixed on you, as intense as ever. was he trying to kill you from a heart attack? he knew exactly what he was doing, shamelessly drinking in the sight of you, fully aware of how nervous it was making you.

though he might've thought he was being sleek and mysterious, he wasn’t as subtle as he believed. his friend, keegan, leaned in with a smirk, noticing his behavior “finally something caught your eye, huh?” keegan teased, amusement in his voice. simon, as expected, ignored him, eyes still locked on you.

you walked towards him, your hips swaying with each step. the black knitted dress hugged your waist perfectly, the tight fit emphasizing every curve. the long sleeves and short hemline contrasted beautifully against the black leggings you wore underneath, each step you took seemed to draw simon, your fluffy boots that made your legs look even sexier, making his gaze trailing over you create a heat that made your skin tingle.

you tried to walk faster, but his stare was so intense it felt like it was making your knees weak, and the last thing you needed was to stumble right in front of him. as you got closer, he stood up too, and for the first time, you realized just how tall he was, towering over me for sure you thought. he casually placed his hands on the seat of his bike, waiting for you to reach him. once you were face-to-face, the bike in between you both, the heat between you felt undeniable, and your mind scrambled for something to say. so, you went with the first thing that came to mind, your voice soft and shy, “hi”

the mysterious man grunted softly, his eyes lingering on you just long enough to make your blush deepen before shifting his gaze to the guy who was talking to you before "was he bothering you?" his deep, musky voice hit you like a wave, momentarily distracting you from the situation. but then, a slow, playful smile crept onto your face.

"oh" you said now with a soft smirk on your face "so you did that on purpose" your tone teasing as you shifted your weight, crossing your leg slightly in front of the other. yes, he had definitely done it on purpose, and he wasn't about to deny it.

"had to keep an eye on who was practically eye-fucking my bike" he replied, his deep voice sending warmth coursing through you. damn, that voice was just as hot as the man himself.

seeing that you weren't going to immediately answer, simon tilted his head toward his bike and asked "you like it?" you wanted to scream "i love it!!!” but instead, you played it cool. "it’s nice, very nice, mhm" you nodded, downplaying the fact that it was your number-one dream bike.

but he saw right through you, he could see the glint in your eyes, how bright they were shining while seeing his bike in front of you, it was like a treasure was in front of you, making him feel something in his chest. “yamaha R1” your whispered softly to yourself, pulling him out of his trance. the sound of it caught him off guard, so soft and pretty, and for a moment, it distracted him, were you a biker? his curiosity got the better of him “you have one?”

“what?” you asked, slightly dazed, still captivated by the sight of the bike. “if you have a bike” his deep, soothing voice repeated. “oh! no” you said shaking your head maintaining eye contact. the intensity of his gaze made your heart race, but you kept your cool.

“ever been on one?” he asked.

you nodded, though you’d never been on your dream bike. or actually ride a bike. but he could tell—there was something in your eyes that told him you hadn’t experienced the thrill of a yamaha R1 yet.

“ever been on this one?” his voice was tentative, slow, as if he was carefully gauging your reaction. was he inviting you to go on his bike? “no” you breathed, feeling the weight of the moment.

then you saw him stand up to his full height again, towering over you, looking around briefly before walking to another bike. you watched him pick up a helmet, and your heart nearly stopped oh god you thought internally, as you saw him coming back toward you with it in hand.

he walked back to you, helmet in hand, his eyes still locked on yours. he held it closer to him, the weight of the moment thick between you both.

“wanna take a ride?” his deep, raspy voice was laced with something more—making your pulse quicken. your breath hitched in your throat, and you could feel the tension building. the cool night air suddenly felt warmer as you took in his towering presence, the helmet in his hand, the way his eyes seemed to undress every layer of your hesitation.

just as you were about to nod, feeling your heart race in anticipation, a pair of hands suddenly landed on your shoulders, interrupting the moment. you turned around, eyes wide, and saw jason smiling at him, the masked guy who had captivated your attention. “sorry to interrupt your moment, but we have to get going” jason said, his gaze shifting back to you.

you could feel the moment slipping away. his eyes were still locked on you, his expression unreadable, but that intense gaze was setting your pulse racing again. you could practically feel the heat radiating off him, and something inside of you refused to let this end so abruptly.

you heart pounded, forcing yourself to act, you took a deep breath, and before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out:

“do you want to go to a rave?”

simon blinked, clearly not expecting that. “a rave?” you bit your lip, eyes flicking between his and the bike as the tension built between you. his gaze felt like a challenge, but you weren’t going to back down. “yeah” you shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “we were killing time here before it starts, it’s halloween themed”

jason chimed in, cutting through the tension, “you could bring your homies too” he said, grinning at simon. it was then you noticed two other guys standing nearby, their gazes locked onto simon with knowing smiles. you glanced at them quickly, feeling the heat of the moment, and turned back to him, your heart racing faster than ever. “yes!” you added, nodding enthusiastically to him, trying to keep your cool but also desperate for him to agree.

his friends exchanged glances, smirking like they knew something you didn’t. him, however, remained silent for a few moments longer, his eyes still fixed on you. you swore you saw the tiniest smirk twitch at the corner of his lips.

finally, he straightened up, giving a slow, deliberate nod. “alright” he said, his voice low and smooth, like he was deciding on more than just a party. “let’s go” you couldn't contain the smile that stretched across your face when his next words came out in that deep, sexy tone, “on my bike.”

you heart practically exploded in your chest as you crossed your arms over yourself, trying to keep it together but feeling giddy inside. “we’ll follow you” you said, turning back to jason, who was watching the whole interaction with an amused look on his face.

jason grinned, raising an eyebrow. "alright, alright," he said, giving you a playful nudge "it’s your lucky day" he whispered to you, and you playfully smacked jason in the arm as he walked toward what you assumed were his friends. but just as you were about to turn away, a sudden realization hit you—you didn’t know his name.

you quickly turned back to him, only to find his eyes already on you, watching, waiting. your heart skipped again. “what’s your name?” his lips twitched slightly into that teasing smirk you were beginning to recognize. “simon” he replied, his voice deep, low.

your repeated his name softly, almost testing how it felt on your tongue, making something stir deep inside him. what the hell was this feeling? he glanced over his shoulder at johnny and keegan, who were now laughing loudly with jason, clearly up to something ridiculous.

“do you think they’d like to come to the rave?” you asked, your smile warm. he chuckled this time, his arm leaning lazily on the gas tank of his bike “i’d tell you they weren’t them if they said no right now.” his voice was smooth, teasing, and just a little wicked.

"hmmm" you responded softly, laughing under your breath. simon noticed how your eyes drifted towards the helmet sitting on the seat, a flicker of curiosity in your gaze. "you’ll be using mine" simon said, not breaking eye contact with your for even a second. a playful smile crept onto your face.

"johnny usually takes people on rides around here when he comes, so he usually brings and extra helmet with him, i don't usually do that..." he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. you couldn’t help but smile, the thought that this moment was something rare for him. “so you’re saying i get to wear the 'special' helmet?” you teased, your heart fluttering at the thought.

you caught a glimpse of the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "mhm" he replied, the tension between you thickening 1000x higher.

“ok!” you replied, smiling as a gust of wind swept by, causing you to shiver and instinctively cross your arms. simon grabbed his gloves and mask, and your gaze fixated on the bone design on his gloves. “what’s your costume?” you asked, your curiosity piqued.

“a ghost” he replied, his deep voice sending a thrill through you. “nice” you said, nodding, “what’s your’s?” he asked “you’ll see when we get there” you said smiling, but your attention was drawn away from him as you watched him put on his gloves. the way his fingers slid into the fabric was mesmerizing; the veins on his hands were pronounced, running along his forearms…

as he tightened the straps around his wrists, the muscles in his forearms flexed slightly, drawing your attention to how sexy he looked. you could almost imagine those hands gripping the handlebars of the bike, controlling the machine with an ease that sent shivers down your spine.

you were pulled from your daydream by your best friend’s voice. “i’ll see you on the curb, so you can follow me,” he called, throwing a wink over his shoulder as he walked away.

you blinked, trying to shake off the lingering thoughts of simon as you turned your attention back to him. he was putting on his mask, and your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him preparing to ride. the way his jawline was defined beneath the mask only heightened your attraction, making you wonder just how intense he would look when he revved up that powerful bike.

you glanced at the bike, then back at simon, you blinked, shaking off your wandering thoughts as he finished adjusting his mask. his gaze locked onto yours, sending a wave of heat through your body. he didn’t say much—he didn’t need to.

“so, you ready to ride?” his deep voice cut through the cool night air, the words dripping with a casual confidence that made your heart skip a beat, feeling the weight of his stare. “yeah” you managed to say, your voice a little shakier than you intended. “think you can handle me?”

he tilted his head slightly, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips beneath the mask, he then laughed softly and said “c’mon” he murmured, his voice low and smooth signaling you with his head to go near him, making your heart flutter.

you were about to ride your dream bike with a hot ass hell man.

truth is, you’ve been on bikes, yet never actually ride one, so you were scared that perhaps you could crush his ribs while hanging on to him. simon glanced up at you and gave a subtle nod, his eyes never leaving yours. he reached for his helmet resting on the bike and held it in his large hands, the gesture simple but somehow sexy. you felt your stomach flutter as he motioned for you to come closer, offering to help you put it on.

you stepped forward, heart pounding as the space between you closed. his hands were steady, but you could sense the tension in the air as he lifted the helmet. his eyes flicked up to yours again, holding your gaze, your doe eyes staring up at him, and in that moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you. the intensity of his stare, so focused, so penetrating, made your breath catch.

without a word, simon brought the helmet over your head, his fingers grazing your hair as he gently pulled it down. the warmth of his hands against your neck sent shivers through you. his touch lingered a second longer than necessary, and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

you looked up through the space that was between the visor, meeting his eyes once more. his face was still masked, but the heat of his gaze was undeniable. his fingers lingered near your chin as he fastened the strap, and for a second, you wondered if he could feel the way your pulse raced beneath his touch.

"comfortable?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

you nodded, barely able to speak, your mind spinning from the proximity and the tension that hung between you. simon gave a satisfied grunt, his fingers brushing your cheek before pulling away. he then proceeded to grab a black hoodie that was draped over his seat and put it on. the air felt heavy, electric, as he stood back and mounted the bike, waiting for you to join him.

as you reached out to take his hand, your other hand found its way to his broad shoulder, fingertips brushing the back of his neck in the subtlest caress. that sent a shiver through him, and it made you smile inwardly, knowing that you had affected him in some way.

you swung your leg over the bike, still holding his hand, your fingers continued to trace along the line of his neck, trying to grab onto his shoulder. once you were seated, you released his hand and instinctively placed your other hand on his right shoulder, feeling the solid muscle beneath your palm. the warmth of his body was intoxicating, and your touch lingered just a bit too long, feeling the curve of his shoulder.

simon suddenly grabbed both of your hands with surprising swiftness. his large hands were firm but gentle as he pulled your arms around his waist, securing you tightly against him. the move was so unexpected that your breath hitched, and your heart raced as you realized just how close you were now.

you could feel his abs through the fabric of his hoodie, firm and defined beneath your fingertips as they rested against his toned stomach. the contact sent a warm, electric sensation through your body. the intensity of being this close to him, feeling every muscle ripple beneath your hands, was overwhelming.

"it’s safer like this” he said, his voice deeper-so much deeper-or was it just you? the timbre of it sent a shiver down your spine, and you could swear you heard the subtle strain in his voice.

it been a long time since anyone had touched him like this, and the sensation of your arms wrapped around his waist, your fingers brushing against his abs, was driving him wild inside. his mind raced, the heat between you two intensifying the longer your hands stayed on him, the feeling of your breath on his back, the softness of your touch-it all made him feel as temperature had suddenly skyrocketed.

with a slight pause, simon untangled one of his hands from yours and grabbed johnny’s helmet from the bike. he slid it over his head, the completely black helmet fitting perfectly. although it was identical to his, minus a few stickers, there was something about the way he wore it that made your pulse quicken.

as he adjusted it in place, you couldn't help but think how damn good he looked in it. simon lowered his visor, the tinted glass sliding down with a soft click. the darkened shield made him look even more mysterious and, somehow, more attractive. his gaze through the visor felt even more intense, and your heart raced, caught up in this moment.

he glanced back at you briefly, his deep voice cutting through the soft rumble of the bike “better lower yours too, unless you want the wind to freeze your eyelashes off.” a playful smile tugged at your lips, and with a quick nod, you reached up and lowered your visor, feeling the protective shield settle into place.

simon then turned his attention back to the bike, and with one swift motion, he hit the ignition. the engine roared to life beneath you, sending vibrations through the seat and up your legs, making your pulse quicken. then he revved the engine, and the sound was absolutely intoxicating. the growl of the yamaha was almost primal, echoing through the chilly night air and sending a thrill straight to your core.

it was music to your ears, and the power you could feel humming beneath you only added to the excitement. simon gave the throttle another squeeze, and the bike purred in response. simon reached back, his gloved hand covering yours gently, a solid and reassuring touch. he turned his head just slightly, his voice coming through the helmet, muffled but clear “hold tight” he said, letting you know he was about to take off.

you nodded, giving his waist a gentle squeeze in response, your fingers curling a bit more around him. simon felt the subtle increase in pressure, and unexpectedly, a flutter ran through him—a sensation he hadn’t felt in ages. he swallowed, trying to brush off the feeling, but the warmth of your hands on him was impossible to ignore.

your heart was racing in anticipation, and you couldn’t help but press closer, feeling the toned muscle of his abdomen beneath your hands. and with that, he gave a final rev of the engine, the sound rumbling around you both like a heartbeat, before smoothly taking off to the highway.

a minute later you saw johnny and keegan beside you both. once in a while johnny would veer just slightly to the side, pulling off a daring wheelie before smoothly dropping back down. you couldn’t help but laugh at the show of it, the rush in your chest from excitement, the thrill of being part of this group.

simon must have heard you because he briefly reached a hand back, giving your hands a quick squeeze over his waist. that had you feeling butterflies, sending a warmth through you that even the cool night air couldn’t shake. his hand felt strong and solid.

a few minutes later, he turned his head slightly, and over the hum of the bike and the wind, you could just make out his voice. “you alright back there?” he asked, his tone deeper and smooth, carrying a hint of a grin. you nodded eagerly, tightening your grip around his waist, and you heard a low chuckle in response. “you want to go a little faster?” he asked, and you could hear the excitement in his voice, like he wanted to share that extra thrill with you. you nodded again excitedly.

he revved the engine, the sound a low, powerful growl, and with a twist of the throttle, you shot forward, the speed building as the world blurred around you. the lights on the road became a streak, and the wind was relentless against you, pushing with each mile.

but you loved it—loved the exhilarating, almost overwhelming sensation of it all, as though every sense was heightened. the rush filled your body, and you pressed even closer to simon, feeling the heat radiate from him and the solid line of his back beneath your hands.

simon kept one hand on the throttle but every so often he’d shift just slightly, his hand finding yours, his fingers brushing softly over your gloves as he gave you another gentle squeeze. you knew he was keeping an eye on you even when you couldn’t see his face.

the bike leaned and curved as simon navigated with precision, each tilt bringing you even closer. when he turned his head slightly to ask “how’re you holding up?” you didn’t trust your voice to answer, so you only nodded, cheeks flushed beneath the helmet. he chuckled again, that low sound vibrating through him.

every second on that bike was filled with excitement and tension, your hands gripping his waist as he maneuvered through the night. the rumble of the engine pulsed under you, making you feel every vibration as the world blurred around you in streaks of light and shadow.

you were pressed close to him, feeling the strength in his back, the warmth of him right there, steady and in control. every shift of his weight, every curve he leaned into, had you tightening your hold, getting lost in the ride and in him.

so lost in the moment, you didn’t even realize you’d arrived until he began to slow down. you blinked, taking in the familiar surroundings, wondering how he’d even spotted jason. he glanced back, his voice amused, “looks like the party has started”

he could tell immediately—the ground seemed to hum beneath them with the heavy bass thumping from below. the rave was hidden underground, somewhere beneath this abandoned lot, it was dark and slightly eerie, with shadows cast by only a few scattered lights, but there was an allure to it all, an edge.

the muffled beat of hard techno echoed up from underfoot, sending vibrations through the air, powerful and alive. as you looked around, you felt that pulse within you. with a lingering squeeze, you slowly let your fingers slip from his waist, moving them up to rest on his shoulders as you carefully swung one leg over the bike. once on solid ground, you turned back to face him, lifting the visor with a small gesture, silently asking for his help to remove the helmet. simon’s hands came up, fingers brushing lightly along your neck as he gently lifted the helmet off.

“thank you” you said, still catching your breath. extending your hand to him, you added with a playful look, “ready for the party?” “i’m still waiting to see your costume” he teased.

you reached into your bag and pulled out a mask—it has a cute pink nose, two black crosses over the eyes, and two pink heart shapes near the top, the smile is wide and creepy, it looks like a creepy clown mask, eerie enough to match the underground vibe of the rave.

his eyebrows lifted in surprise as you held it up with a mischievous smile. you slipped the mask over your face, grinning under the cover. “think i make a good match for a ghost?” you asked playfully. simon smirked, tilting his head slightly as he looked you over. “a cute clown, huh?” he leaned a little closer, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. “just wait till i get that mask off you.”

you felt a thrill at his words, a teasing smile spreading across your lips. “oh, is that so?” you replied, leaning in just a bit closer, “you’ll have to catch me first before you can get my mask off.” you turned on your heel, the sound of the party’s pulsing bass echoing behind you, leaving him with the challenge of following you into the rave. you thought you were quick, but before you knew it, simon was right beside you, his strong arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you back against him.

the heat radiating from his body sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t help but lean into him, feeling exhilarated by his touch. what he didn’t see was the mischievous grin spreading across your face as you quickly grabbed the fake knife from your backpack. in a swift motion, you turned around, bashing it playfully against his neck. “careful ghost” you exclaimed, your heart racing with excitement.

he raised an eyebrow underneath his balaclava, “is that how you treat a ghost, huh?” he challenged, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips, you could tell he was enjoying this little game as much as you were. you kept the knife pressed lightly against his neck, “just making sure you know who’s in charge” you teased, your voice low and playful as you stepped back, releasing him from your grip.

simon chuckled, clearly entertained, his eyes sparkling with challenge. “yes ma’am” he replied, stepping closer again, his intense gaze never leaving yours. with a mischievous grin, you turned on your heel, leading him toward the entrance of the underground rave. the heavy bass vibrated through the ground, you bounded down the stairs, your heart racing with anticipation, glancing back to make sure simon was following. he fell into step beside you, the energy between you palpable as you joined your best friend, jason, at the bottom of the stairs.

the rave unfolded before you. the strobe lights danced wildly against the dark walls, the sound of hard techno filled the air, thumping in time with your heartbeat. colorful lights flickered against the walls, people wore everything from elaborate fairy wings to ghoulish faces, and your eyes danced over the vibrant outfits, taking in the energy of the night. you caught glimpses of masks—some sparkly, some terrifying—and a few partygoers twirled glow sticks. the atmosphere was charged with excitement, and you felt a surge of adrenaline.

turning back, you spotted simon’s friends, johnny and keegan, near the front of the dance floor, clearly ready to dive into the party. they animatedly discussed something, laughter erupting between them as they adjusted their own masks. you felt simon’s presence behind you, he kept a hand on yours, guiding him through the crowd. you pulled him along, your fingers interlaced with his, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. as you reached johnny and keegan, the energy around you intensified. the music shifted into a heavier beat, and without thinking, you started to sway your hips, feeling the rhythm pulse through your body. simon’s hand found its way to your waist, pulling you closer. you glanced back at him, and the heat in his eyes made your heart race.

“dance with me?” you teased, feeling daring as you leaned into him, your back brushing against his front. he smirked, leaning down slightly so his lips brushed against your ear, his voice low and inviting. you could feel the heat rush to your cheeks, the crowded room faded away, leaving just the two of you in your little bubble of connection. you turned to face him, the lights flashing, casting shadows over his balaclava.

as you danced, you leaned into him more, feeling the hard planes of his body pressed against you, every twist and turn bringing you closer. the atmosphere thickened with anticipation, and you felt an overwhelming urge to close the distance. you leaned in, letting your breasts brush against him, sending sparks of electricity crackling through the air. simon pulled you even closer when he felt your soft breasts on his chest, he wanted to lick them, kiss them, bite your nipples, he was feeling as nasty as you.

the music pulsed around you, and as you swayed closer to simon, you felt him pull you even nearer. you could feel his hardness poke your thighs, making you unconsciously rub your thigh over his cock. his fingers dug gently into the fabric of your dress, sending a thrill through you. "is it getting a hot in here?" simon murmured, his voice low and teasing, laced with a playful laugh.

his breath brushed against your cheek, igniting butterflies in your stomach. you let out a breathy laugh, leaning in slightly as you responded "maybe it's just you, i’m perfectly cool." he smirked, that trademark smirk that made your heart skip. "oh really? because it feels like there's a lot of heat radiating from you." his fingers danced along your side, the touch electric. you shivered at the sensation, your body instinctively leaning closer, almost touching. "what can i say? the music has me feeling a certain way."

as the beat dropped, simon stepped even closer, his body aligning perfectly with yours. his hands roamed your back, pulling you in so that there was no space in between you both, and the space between your lips narrowed, the masks pressing against each other in an intimate embrace.

"simon..." you breathed, a mix of anticipation and nervous excitement coursing through you.

"just trust me" he murmured, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips. the temptation to close the distance was overwhelming, every instinct telling you to lean in and feel his kiss, even with the masks in the way. "are you always this forward?" you teased, trying to keep the playful banter alive, even as your heart raced. "only when i’m around someone who drives me crazy" he shot back, his eyes smoldering with intensity.

you smiled, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. "well, i’m about to drive you even crazier”

"why?" he asked, his voice low and filled with desire. "i need to go to the bathroom”

“seriously?” he chuckled, clearly amused by your sudden change in mood.

“yeah, but i can’t go alone in this crowd. it’s like a maze in here!” simon smirked, tilting his head slightly. “then i’ll go with you. can’t let a pretty thing like you navigate this place by yourself, can i?”

“mhm” you nodded, your heart fluttering at the thought of being so close to him even on the way to the bathroom. “let’s go then” he replied, his hand finding yours again, fingers intertwining as he led you through the crowd. when you reached the bathroom door, simon pushed it open, revealing a chaotic mix of people coming and going. without hesitation, he pulled you inside, guiding you toward a secluded stall.

the cramped space felt intimate, and you were acutely aware of his presence in front of you. he pressed you against the bathroom door, your bodies close enough that you could almost feel his heartbeat, the sound of the music faded slightly, replaced by the sound of your own racing heart. he leaned in, his breath warm against your cheek, but you couldn't wait anymore. "take it off” you said, almost begging, the urgency in your voice palpable. you needed him closer, to feel every inch of him.

without hesitation, he tugged at his mask, pulling it up to his nose, revealing his full lips and that handsome smile that made your heart race, and before you could think, you pushed your own mask up and off your head, letting it fall to the floor. in an instant, his lips were on yours, soft yet very demanding, igniting a fire deep within you. the kiss was hungry, filled with the tension that had been building between you all night. you could taste the sweetness of the moment, the thrill of being hidden away in this small space, lost in each other.

his lips moved against yours with a fervor that sent shivers down your spine. his mouth was warm and inviting, intensifying the moment. as you leaned into him, you felt his hands slide around your waist, pulling you closer, making every inch of your bodies connect. there was a sweet urgency, deepening the kiss, letting your own hands wander up to his hair under his balaclava, fingers threading through his soft strands, his own mask joining yours on the floor.

with each gentle tug, he coaxed you to lose yourself in the moment, and you did. you could feel the stubble on his chin brush against your skin, adding a delicious friction that sent waves of desire course through you.

he slipped his tongue out, teasingly tracing your bottom lip before sliding into your mouth. the sensation sent a rush of warmth through your entire body. you instinctively responded, your tongue meeting his both tentative and eager. the intoxicating mix of sweet breath and the faint hint of his cologne enveloped you, making you crave more. you could feel him smile against your lips, the thrill of the moment making it all the more intoxicating. your hands slid down to his shoulders, feeling the taut muscles beneath your fingertips. you pulled him even closer, deepening the connection between you, feeling his heartbeat quicken in sync with yours.

as the kiss deepened, simon slid his thigh between your legs, pressing it gently against you. the sensation sent a jolt of electricity coursing through your body, igniting every nerve. you gasped softly against his mouth, the unexpected move heightening the moment. you instinctively rolled your hips forward, craving more of that delicious friction. the way he pressed closer, his thigh snug against you, felt intoxicating, as if he knew exactly what he was doing, and you were entirely at his mercy.

you needed him closer, pressing hard against him, rubbing your pussy like a dog over his clothed thigh, this was no longer just a kiss-it was a primal need, the desire to connect with him burning within you. "fuck!" you clung to him tighter, fingers gripping his shoulders as you humped his leg, moaning over his lips “that’s a good girl” that alone made you moan so loud you knew people could make an idea of what was happening inside.

he took the hint and started to trace his hand over your left thigh, edging ever so closely to your most private area. you took the chance and opened your legs even wider for him, and immediately grabbed his hand, guiding it over your leggings, the only thing instructing were your leggings. “eager?” simon’s husky voice whispered over your ear. you could only nod.

it wasn't enough to be this close to him, you craved more; you craved him. without warning, simon dipped his hand inside your leggings, feeling your wetness coat his fingers as you moved to meet his movements.

"holy shit" simon breathed against your neck, sending shivers down your spine, causing goosebumps to appear all over your arms. “couldn’t let a pretty thing like you go away” he practically moaned on your ear. with steady movements, simon began to massage your clit. his other hand remained on the edge of your hips, allowing him control over your positioning. as his grip tightened, so too did his attention shift. suddenly, you were no longer playing a game. "oh my god..." you bit your lip as he began to circle your clit with lightning speed.

“it’s only normal for me” he pinched your clit “to return the favor to who was eye-fucking my bike” he rubbed even faster now your pussy. you nodded, moaning at the same time “did you like riding my bike?” simon said to you, getting off on the idea of you and his bike, you tried to respond but you couldn't due to the amount of moaning. “shhh” simon put his hand over your lips “i know you loved it, pretty girl” he was now lowering your leggings to your thighs

“but that’s for me to know only baby” your moans were so pretty for random people hearing them so freely, he wanted to be the only one hearing them. your bare pussy was now for his eyes to admire “let me make you feel good yes?

his right hand reached your breast, you weren’t wearing a bra, just a top to cover your chest, so the moment his hand met your nipple, you almost orgasmed on the spot. it had been so long since someone touched you like this :(

soon he was rubbing it back and forth, your eyes closed as you succumbed to the sensation of his touch, you felt as though your entire being were coming alive. at the same time you saw him lower his sweats to his thighs like you, even the boxers, so immediately you caught his cock springing free, and it was so erect it looked like it hurt. you started to rub his cock with such delicatessen, simon could feel his orgasm approaching. "it feels like forever since i’ve done anything like this" he said.

your heavy breaths gave away your state of excitement. he released your nipple and used both hands to continue massaging you “you’re not the only one” he moved his head closer, leaning forward to begin licking and nibbling at your neck, biting on your shoulders "give me your hand" he spoke, asking you permission to go even further.

you didn't hesitate in handing your right hand over to him; you released his cock slowly, your thumb rubbing his tip making him almost double over from the pleasure “fuck” simon moaned sweetly over your ears. you let out a soft moan as he grasped your wrist, placing it over your very aroused pussy, he gathered all your juices in your hand and raised to his lips.

he tasted your sweet nectar, moaning from the taste, he literally was kissing your hand, his eyes never leaving yours. he then proceeded to guide your hand over his cock again, you felt all the veins throbbing, its thickness feeling incredible in your palm. you coated all your juices over his cock.

his other hand returned to work on your clit, circling it again, holding you open, you felt his other hand open your pussy up to him, all spread out, and you were completely vulnerable to him.. you could feel his fingertips touching your opening, looking at him with your big doe eyes begging him for release. his fingers slide past your labia, filling the entire space, and he looks directly into your eyes as he pinched your clit with his other hand.

the need to satisfy your desires overwhelms your mind, clouding everything else. you whisper quietly into his ear "please", as if answering your plea, he released your clit, his other hand keeping your pussy opened up for him. he proceeded to take your hand grabbing his cock, softly lowering it to his fingers on your pussy “keep yourself open f’me, yes?” he said huskily to you, and like a good girl, you did just that.

you saw him grab his cock, looking so big and erect, and brought it closer to your pussy, and like heaven, the tip of his cock reached your clit. he slid the head of his cock, once, twice, keeping his hand on the base. the length of his cock made contact with your soaked folds, sliding along every inch of your slit. you couldn't contain the sounds escaping your mouth. it was too much, every time he slid it, he reached your opening, almost sliding inside you, but always stopping short of going in.

one deep thrust after another. each glide brings your ever-increasing need for him closer and closer. he moved his cock again to your clit, holding it over it “feels good?” he said while thrusting his hips to yours, making the head of his cock rub your clit deliciously.

you answered him by grinding onto his cock like there was no tomorrow, matching his rhythm perfectly, you leaned forward to press your lips against his. you wrapped your arms tightly around him, refusing to let go until you came with a sense of desperation that built up from nowhere, he responded, holding you close and kissing you back fiercely. you moaned into his mouth at the feel of his hard cock pressed between your legs, sliding effortlessly against your dripping wet pussy.

the overwhelming feelings broke loose. your breathing became ragged as your climax overtook you, your body shuddering violently from the intense waves of pleasure that coursed through you.

at the same time, you could feel his hand gripping your thigh tighter as his movements became more erratic. you knew what that meant. he pulled himself away from your body, his dick twitching wildly as he came all over your thighs. his face contorted in bliss as his orgasm swept through him, finally releasing the pent-up tension.

the two of you remained still for a moment, basking in the aftermath of what just happened. only when he regained some composure did he look down to notice the mess he'd created, his load spreading across your skin like sticky paint. "oops" he said sheepishly. despite the thoughtless action, you couldn't help but smile

you brought your fingers to your slit, feeling all his semen over you, and slowly gathered it on your fingers. you kept your eyes on simon as you brought them to your lips, and licked it, one by one. the act wasn't lost on simon, seeing your beautiful, slutty actions, drove him wild with desire. you smiled at him knowing exactly what you were doing.

once you finished cleaning his load on your fingers, simon immediately went for your mouth, his tongue all over yours, tasting himself on you, you moaned over the kiss and grabbed his shoulders, steadying yourself.

his hand ran through your hair, playing with the tangles, before wrapping itself around the back of your head. once he had control of your head, he tilted it slightly, revealing the tender skin of your neck. he whispered something hot in your ear, his voice barely audible over the music, "this isn’t over, yet"

you smiled sweetly at him and shaked your head breathless and warm, as his fingers brushed softly along your neck. with a playful tug, he pulled your leggings up, his touch gentle yet firm, sending a shiver down your spine.

looking into his eyes, you whispered, "good, because i don’t want this to be over." he smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes, and leaned in to press a sweet kiss to your forehead. his hand caressed your waist softly, lingering there as if he never wanted to let go. you knew this was just the beginning,

after all, the best things often happen unexpectedly.

—————————————————————————————

✦ a.n: phew, i’m ovulating as you can tell….

anyways, quite late to the halloween party but i finally finished the fic 😋

did i write this fic, because i, in real life i have a hot as hell neighbor (whom i haven’t seen his face yet) that rides a bike and has stalked my house thrice because i smiled at him once and is probably joe goldberg 2.0, but everytime he passes my house he revs his bike so beautifully?

yes, yes i did, sue me 😩

may this fic manifest him for me 💖 (i’m delusional bye love you all, see you in a year LMAOO)

[holllandtrash]

6 to 1 | lando norris (part 9)

pairing: lando norris x leclerc reader part 9 in the 6 to 1 series (read part 1 here)

attention was a funny thing. for so long, you were under the impression that you had lando's. with the way he treated you, the way he worked up your driver ranking, the way he made his intentions clear. but now you had to fight for it and lets just say you've never been afraid of getting your hands a little dirty

word count: 4k tags: this is soft and then its not is all i have to say, also alcohol consumption i guess

The universe was never on your side.

Lando stayed with you at your place for only a little while before he had to return to his flat. Just because he had a bit of time off between races, didn’t mean he could stop working. He had Quadrant obligations, training, meetings, he even had to make a quick trip back to the UK on Thursday as he was needed at the McLaren Technology Centre.

It was no fault of his own, but he had no time for you. You genuinely didn’t think you would see him until the weekend, and even then you had your own commitments and still hadn’t decided if you wanted Lando to accompany you to dinner. 

Of course you wanted him there, but you still hadn’t spoken to Charles. You knew if you showed up to your mother’s place with Lando at your side, a heated conversation would undoubtedly commence.

You wanted Lando’s opinion. You weren’t even sure if he would want to come to dinner. The plan was to sit down and talk to him about it, but you hadn’t had a chance to all week.

Now it was Friday and as far as you were aware, Lando was supposed to be coming home sometime today. You expected he would at least give you a call when he was in the car from Nice. 

You didn’t expect to return from your jog in the afternoon and see Lando in your kitchen helping himself to the groceries you purchased yesterday. He turned over his shoulder when he heard the door open, cheeks full with whatever sandwich he had just made for himself.

He looked good. The sleeves of his t-shirt tightened around his biceps. His curls weren’t as prominent, he must have gotten a bit of a trim in the UK, but you still wanted to run your fingers through his hair. The summer sun was doing wonders for his skin, he probably had a darker tan than you did and god he was literally glowing. 

He approached you slowly, gaze raking over every inch of your body. Monaco was hot, you had to dress appropriately for your run. And you doubted Lando was complaining about the sports bra and matching athletic tights you had on. 

“I regret telling you my key code,” you told him. Lando only stifled his laughter in response as he finished chewing. He held out the end of his sandwich to you, offering you a bite. And you were starving after that run, so you happily obliged. 

“You don’t have mustard in your fridge,” he pointed out.

You held your mouth in front of your hand as you swallowed, “I don’t like mustard.”

“But I do,” he took another bite.

“Well next time I go grocery shopping I’ll be sure to ask for your list, yeah? Any dietary restrictions I should know about? Is the almond milk in my fridge not up to your standards?” You raised your eyebrows, but it was clear your questions were full of sarcasm and Lando didn’t have anything else to add as he slowly finished chewing.

You patted his chest and started to pivot, planning on taking a shower and changing but Lando grabbed hold of your hand and pulled you back towards him. He kissed you, not letting your teasing stop him from greeting you the way he wanted to.

“Hi,” he said quietly as he pulled away just enough so his lips were still hovering over yours.

“Hi,” you repeated, hating how quick he was able to make you smile. There was no point in trying to hide it either, it would only make your cheeks hurt more. “Is it bad that I’ve missed you?”

“I don’t think so because I’ve missed you too,” he kissed you again. 

He had just been busy. He hadn’t been able to make the time to see you or take you out, and you couldn’t blame him for that. Sure it was a little frustrating knowing he was in Monte Carlo for most of this week and you couldn’t do anything about it, but at least he was with you now. 

You may have never been in a relationship before, but you knew exactly what this was. It was the honeymoon phase. You wanted to spend as much time with him as humanly possible and him having a job that kept him occupied and travelling was a little bit of an inconvenience for you. 

Lando offered to make you some lunch while you got ready for the rest of the day and you had to admit, it was kind of nice having someone around who wanted to take care of you. 

When you finished your shower and stepped into the hall, Lando was in the kitchen and singing quietly to himself whatever song was playing from his phone. You watched for a second as he opened up a few cupboards until he found the plates he was searching for.

After you had changed and and rang a towel through your hair, you joined Lando in the living room. There was a plate on the coffee table with a sandwich and a variety of fruit on it and you wanted to thank him, but he was on a phone call.

So even though he was here with you, he wasn’t actually present.

Regardless, you weren’t going to let it bother you. You tuned him out for the most part, responding to a couple friends you had been neglecting to text back. It wasn’t until he somewhat mentioned you in his conversation that your interest piqued.

“...at my girl's place,” but you looked at each other at the exact same time, wearing very similar expressions of uncertainty. Lando even sounded unsure as he said it, like he wasn’t confident that was the right thing to call you.

Your confusion turned to amusement as whoever Lando was talking to presumably asked about you and he struggled to explain what you were to him exactly. 

“Yeah she’s-” Lando paused, feeling the weight of your stare. “It’s uh, it’s pretty new.”

That wasn’t technically wrong. 

“No, she’s cool, you’ll like her,” Lando assured them. Now you were really wondering who he was talking to. Lando dropped his hand to your leg. “But I gotta go, I’ll talk to you in a bit, yeah?”

You waited until he put the phone down to question him, the smirk on your face was making your jaw hurt and he preemptively rolled his eyes in anticipation for whatever you were going to say.

“Your girl?” You exclaimed, reaching forward to playfully press your hand against his cheek. “Am I your girl, Lando Norris?”

Lando opened his mouth and then shut it again, settling on a heavy exhale as he took your hand in his. He pressed a kiss to the back of your hand and gave you the sweetest look he could muster.

“That’s a trick question so I’m not going to answer it.”

You snorted, “Please elaborate.”

He sighed again, “If I say, yes, you’re my girl, you’ll be upset because I haven’t actually asked you to my girlfriend yet, which-” he held up a finger, “-is a bit of a childish term, might I add. We’re not twelve, Y/N.”

You held up a hand in defence, feeling a little attacked, “I didn’t say anything.”

He continued, “But if I say no, then you’ll still be upset because you know that you are in fact my girl.”

You hummed in response. You could understand how he saw it as a trick question, even if you hadn’t intended it as such. Maybe he was smarter than you gave him credit for.

“It’s a lose-lose,” he added. “For me, at least.”

“There’s a simple solution.”

“Which is?”

Your eyebrows raised, surprised you even had to spell it out. “Ask me to be your girlfriend.”

“Will you-”

“No!” You interjected. Lando flinched, having not expected you to raise your voice all of a sudden. But this is what he was talking about, this was the lose-lose scenario he now found himself in. 

“I don’t know what you want from me,” he admitted, a shy smile teased his lips. It was cute. He was cute. But he should have known better.

“Lando, I’ve never had a boyfriend before,” you reminded him quietly. There was nothing embarrassing about that statement, but what you were asking for was, in a sense, childish. “I don’t care that we’re adults, I want to be asked out properly. A whole grand gesture.” You waved your hand in front of your face for emphasis, “Sweep me off my feet or something, I don’t know. Don’t just ask me out, put a little effort into it.”

Lando’s grip slid up your arm to be able to pull you onto his lap. Your legs straddled either side of him as his fingers found your waist. He leaned his head against the back of the couch as he looked up at you, the same timid smile on his lips.

He nodded, “Okay, effort. I can do that.”

“Nothing embarrassing.”

“Aren’t grand gestures usually embarrassing?” He retorted.

“I have faith you’ll figure something out that saves us both from humiliation.”

You leaned down to kiss him and it had finally sunk in that you could do this without any cause for concern now. Granted, you still had to be cautious out in public and there was still the looming issue of your brother, but right now, in the comfort of your own flat, you could kiss him and not have to worry about any repercussions. 

The only thing you had to worry about was his phone going off again. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You groaned, dropping your head to his shoulder as he reached for his phone that you thought he had finally put away for the day. Lando rubbed your back as he checked out who had texted him. 

It was his manager, someone he couldn’t just ignore.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, kissing your cheek. You both looked at the message and you grew even more annoyed when you saw he was asking for Lando to meet him at his place. 

“Selfishly, can you just stay here?” You asked, hoping that batting your eyelashes would do the trick.

“I want to, you know I do,” Lando muttered, sending a quick response to his manager telling him he’ll head over. He then put his phone down and pulled your face towards his. He really did seem disappointed that he had to leave again. His thumb grazed over your cheek, “Let’s go out tonight, yeah?”

You hummed, “What did you have in mind?”

You could see the gears grinding in his head. “There’s a handful of drivers in Monaco right now. A few of them had mentioned going to Sinistre. Could be fun?”

You had been to Sinistre a handful of times. It was definitely one of the places to be in Monaco on a Friday night. It was exclusive too, it wasn’t easy for just anyone to wander in. Plus it would be a good opportunity to be out in public with Lando without it too obviously being a date. 

If you could keep his attention, that was. 

Lando was still responding to texts as he got up to leave. He slid his phone into his pocket as he kissed you goodbye, squeezing your hand too, a gesture you were starting to get very used to from him. 

“I’ll see you in a bit,” he told you. “And then I promise, this weekend I’m all yours.”

You still hadn’t brought up the idea of inviting him to dinner. And now was clearly not the time to as he was on his way out the door. So you just nodded and kissed him once more. You didn’t want to worry about tomorrow night’s dinner just yet, you just wanted to focus on tonight.

ynleclerc

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris and 30,127 others

ynleclerc amour sans fin

view all 2,241 comments

danielricciardo we get it, you're french

ynleclerc im monégasque you kiwi shit danielricciardo im austrailain ynleclerc ohhh hurts when someone gets your nationality wrong huh?

carlossainz55 bella

ynleclerc ❤️

landonorris can you even walk in those

ynleclerc no but im taller than you in them so

paddockswags so all the boys on the grid love her huh

Lando grabbed your hand when you exited your flat, keeping you from walking towards the car. Your brows cinched in confusion when you noticed him eyeing the top of your head and then down at your heels.

“You’re not taller than me,” he scoffed. “We’re the same height.”

You tilted your chin up, “No I think I’m taller.”

Lando rolled his eyes, reaching for the handle of the car door. You weren’t wearing the blazer anymore, you had stolen that from one of his suitcases he had left at your place for the sole purpose of the photo. When you posted it, he was still out, but he made sure to text you, telling you that you could wear his clothes any day.

When he climbed into the backseat as well, you noticed he still had Instagram open and was looking at your photo, more specifically, the comments.

“I think he has your notifications on.”

You pushed your hair over your shoulder and leaned towards him, trying to see what had caught his attention, “Who?”

“Carlos.”

You snickered, “Why do you think that?”

“He’s always one of the first people to comment on your pictures,” Lando’s eyes met yours and you wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to worry about Carlos. That Carlos and you were only ever friends and that Instagram notifications on your phone screen didn’t mean anything.

You would have, had his phone not started ringing. 

You inhaled a sharp breath and Lando laughed at your reaction to his phone pulling his attention away once again. 

“I’m about to throw that thing out the window.”

Lando let it go to voicemail. He gently placed his hand on the side of your face and pulled your lips to his. 

“It’s officially my weekend now, I promise.”

“If I hear your phone ring one more time-”

Lando chuckled again, “You won’t, don’t worry. I’m all yours.”

And you believed him because his hand stayed on your leg for the duration of the car ride from your flat to the club. You believed him because he tried to shelter you from nearby paparazzi and fans that were waiting outside of Sinistre, hoping to catch a shot or two of any drivers. You believed him because he didn’t let go of your hand once you stepped inside.

But because he was holding onto your hand, he was able to pull you in the direction of his teammate who was standing near the bartop, chatting away with some friends. As far as you were aware, Oscar didn’t even live in Monaco so you had no idea what he was doing here.

Oscar eyed the way your hands connected between your bodies, a smile growing on his face.

“Why hello lovebirds,” Oscar teased. “Fancy seeing you two here.”

And then Lando became lost in a conversation with Oscar. As if he hadn’t just promised you that he was all yours. 

To be fair, Lando was a social guy. He could find any opportunity to chat with literally anyone and it was a trait of his you admired. 

But you were selfish tonight. You didn’t want to share him. You had to share him all week, you had barely seen him all week. 

You scanned the club, wondering if there was anyone else here that Lando might want to talk to after Oscar and you wanted to scream when your eyes landed on Carlos sitting at a nearby bench, talking to his own friends.

There was no way Lando was going to pass up an opportunity to chat with one of his best mates.

You glanced at him and then back at Carlos, and then an idea came to mind. 

“I’ll be right back,” you muttered, unsure if Lando even heard you as your hand slipped from his. 

You made your way across the club, not oblivious to the way a few heads turned as you balanced yourself in those heels. But you didn’t want the attention of strangers, you only wanted Lando’s attention.

You approached the Spanish driver, “Carlos, I need you to do me a favour.”

He turned his head and glanced up at you from where he sat on the cushioned bench, “Anything, hermosa. What did you need?”

You turned over your shoulder to make sure Lando was still chatting away to Oscar by the bar.

Lando didn’t explicitly say it, but you knew your driver ranking was still heavy on his mind. And with the lack of attention you had been getting, you felt as though it was time to challenge Lando at his own game. 

“I need you to not leave my side.”

Carlos raised his eyebrows, “What do you mean?”

He was already a few drinks in. Which might honestly make it easier. Everyone was flirty when they were drunk.

“I don’t know, just-” you looked over your shoulder again, Lando glanced your way and smiled before falling back into his conversation  “-pretend you’re into me. Pretend I’m someone you want to take home. Pretend Charles wouldn’t kill you if you tried to hit on me.” You placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently, “Just have fun with it and make sure Lando sees.”

“Why?” Carlos asked. “Aren’t you here with him?”

“Yeah but he’s had it too easy recently,” you said through a faint breath of laughter. “Come on, Carlos, help me out here.”

And then it clicked for him. It was like you could see all the gears shifting into place and he hummed in response. “I get it. This is about your driver ranking, isn’t it?”

“That’s exactly it,” a devious grin spread across your face from cheek to cheek. You made sure you had Carlos’ full attention as you pressed both of your palms on either side of his face. “So unless you want him to beat you, don’t leave my side.”

Carlos didn’t need any more of a reason to grab your hand and pull you sideways onto his lap, a squeal passing through your lips as you didn’t think he would act so suddenly. You snaked your arm around his shoulders as his fingers instantly found a home on your leg, spread out across your thigh. 

Your faces were inches apart, you could smell the tequila shots he had undoubtedly taken as soon as he got here. The corner of his lip was tugged upwards as his eyes landed on the curve of your smile before darting back up to meet your gaze. The strobing pink and blue lights all around you only highlighted the glossed over expression he wore. Carlos wasn’t drunk yet, but he was certainly on his way there. 

You noticed how his eyes dropped once more and you called him out on it, “I’m not kissing you again.”

“So that was a one time thing?” He asked. “And in front of your brother? You really did me dirty there.”

“I needed to prove a point.”

“Which was what exactly? That you leave half the drivers on the grid speechless?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed together as Carlos said almost the exact same thing Lando said earlier in the week. You never did get a chance to ask Lando about what he meant by that. 

Carlos saw you about to turn your head in the direction of the Brit but he cupped your jaw with his hand and kept you from looking anywhere else. His thumb traced over your lower lip, it was brief and so light you couldn’t tell if it was on purpose or not.

“He’s looking,” Carlos told you. 

You had to admire the move, making sure your attention was on him and solely him. You could only imagine Lando’s reaction to seeing Carlos’ hand against your cheek. 

He said something else but his voice was nearly drowned out by the music playing through the speakers that you had no choice but to lean in so his lips were right next to your ear. Again, you couldn’t tell if Carlos’ did that with intent or not, lowering his voice so you’d have to close the gap even further. 

“Are you mad at him?” Carlos repeated himself.

“I don’t think mad’s the right word,” you said, pulling back slightly. Carlos kept the placement of his hand on your face, the tips of his fingers lost in the strands of your hair. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I don’t think messing with Lando’s driver ranking plan is a valid enough reason to be asking for my help like this,” He pointed out. You were surprised that he was more well-read now a few shots in than he was on any given day. “Annoyed?”

You nodded. “He hasn’t been paying me any attention,” you rolled your eyes when you realised how needy you sounded. Carlos even chuckled at your reasoning. “So I just want to flip the cards. I want him to work for my attention.”

“Well I think it’s working,” Carlos got a devious glint in his eye. In your peripheral vision you could make out the McLaren driver slowly making his way towards you. Carlos cleared his throat when Lando was close enough and looked up at him with a blameless grin. You kept your eyes on Carlos for a few extra seconds, a little paranoid to see Lando’s reaction.

“What the hell is going on?” Lando asked, slight humour in his tone. 

But when you finally looked at him, you could see the light heartedness didn’t extend past the question. His jaw was clenched, his stare was narrowed directly on you. You wanted to reach forward and smooth out the creases in his forehead, but you stayed seated on Carlos’ lap.

“Just about to get a drink, ‘scuse us mate.” Carlos answered. You slid off his lap but his hand connected with yours as he led you away from Lando and towards the bar. 

Lando followed, obviously, walking at your other side, “Okay, honestly, what is going on?”

You stuck out your lower lip, “Oh, I’m sorry Lando, did you forget that he’s still above you on my driver ranking?”

It was slowly starting to sink in for him now what you were doing. You leaned against the bar, Carlos’ hand still on your lower back and you purposely leaned into his side as you looked at Lando on your other side. Your pout turning into a machiavellian smirk only had Lando shuffling closer to you, trying to figure out what the driving factor was behind you suddenly clinging to Carlos.

Carlos handed you a drink and you glanced down at it, seeing the margarita he had just ordered for you. You slid your index finger over the salt that rimmed the glass to collect some on the pad of your finger. Then you locked eyes with Lando as your tongue poked through your lips to lick the salt off, tasting that hint of lime in there as well. Lando watched as you purposely tugged your lower lip down slowly before bringing your face daringly close to his. Your gaze dropped to his throat as he swallowed in anticipation, waiting for what you were going to do and hating that Carlos’ hand was still on you.

Your eyes met his again. When you took a breath it hit Lando’s face and he would have given anything to taste that lime and salt combination that was still present on your tongue. 

But you were on a mission. He had to put the effort in tonight.

“Do you want to know why Carlos is higher than you, Lando?” You asked, sounding sweet with intention.

It was an act. You wanted to lure Lando closer with your voice, and it worked. He nodded, probably not even comprehending the question at its fullest. 

“I don’t have to work for his attention,” you answered, retreating closer to Carlos once again. You watched as Lando’s features hardened when Carlos’ hand slipped further around your waist. Your smirk shifted into a smile, “But now you have to work for mine.”

part 10 here | masterlist here

taglist: @moneymasnn@thotd-f1 @masonspulisic @mcmuppet@f1-futurewag-16-3-4-63 @alilstressyandlotdepressy @themisric @happydazzz123 @moonxblossom @norrisleclercf1 @scarlettisconfused @sbgal @e-lisa-bettan @harrysdimple05 @ophcelia @alesainz @fandomxs1 @majx00 @sbgal @mehrmonga @themockingjayreader @f1mockingjay @topguncultleader @lclrnelliluvs @moonxblossom @dr3lover @andrewgarfields-girlfriend @noescapricho-essentimiento @xqueenslytherinx if i missed someone im so sorry

[starlightsearches]

track 8 with eddie!

all i ask is that it’s sub!eddie 🤞

Brat

So I lied earlier about deleting all of the requests for the mixtape milestone 😬 i did get rid of the some of the requests i hadn't started, but i couldn't let go of the ones i drafted, which is good news, because inspiration struck for this one!

Ex-boyfriend! Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW 18+, pussy eating, bratty eddie but he gets put in his place super quick, bondage, not a happy ending if you want them to get back together, language, and i think that's it!

You never thought you'd be back on Eddie Munson's doorstep.

Hands hanging heavy at your sides, a little taste of a summer breeze teasing at the hem of your skirt. You'd been full of a strange mixture of righteous fury and sick anticipation on the drive over but it's all gone now, a choking feeling in your throat when you lift up your hand to knock.

And you still can't do it.

Your eyes rake over his completely uninteresting door (are there even interesting doors?)— pockmarked with random dents and dings and sticky residue from long gone flyers—but you study it like it's the Mona Lisa, like it's got the meaning of life hidden somewhere in its peeling paint.

Fuck that. You didn't come here for the meaning of life.

Your knuckles meet the cool metal, once, then twice. The door flies open before you get a chance to drop your hand.

Eddie was waiting for you on the other side.

Heat floods through your entire body—and not the good kind—the oily feeling of embarrassment creeping up your neck. Had he been watching you through the peep hole?

He leans casually up in the door frame, arm stretched long above his mess of curls. The smile on his lips is so familiar it makes you ache.

"Hey, sweetheart."

Eddie looks good. Better than the last time you saw him—a little over a month ago, although not much as changed. Kind of stubbly, kind of toned. Still very, very hot.

There's no need to feel guilty for thinking it, but that doesn't stop your stomach from sinking as you drag your eyes down the white t-shirt he wears, band logo faded and the sleeves cut off, knees poking out of the rips in his jeans.

It should be ridiculous—a fucking caricature of a cool guy with his artful rips and the tats littering his arms. A Halloween costume on anybody else. But not on Eddie.

You push past him, like you push past the thought about how tight he wears his jeans. "Don't call me that."

He follows you into the living room of his shitty little apartment, kicking the door closed behind him. "What can I call you, then? Sugar tits?"

He doesn't even pretend to whither under your stare, although you feel like you cut glass with the look you give him.

"I thought I told you not to call me at all. Where is it?"

He's standing too close, looming over you with a little smirk. You can feel how hot his skin is. Feel the warm puff of breath from his nose on your cheeks. "Where's what, gorgeous?"

He never called stuff like that when you were together. Baby was his favorite. Princess when he was feeling sassy. Honey, but only on the rarest occasions, the sweetest mornings. That one always made you weak at the knees.

"The box of my stuff," —you're mad at him, at this, and it hits you hard, has you jamming a finger into his sternum, feeling the wiry muscle of his chest underneath the tee—"the one you left me three desperate messages about."

That humbles him a little bit. A very little bit, but enough to make Eddie shut his mouth for once. He points down the hall behind you.

"Bedroom."

You know the way, but let him lead. It's colder in his apartment than it was outside, the hair on your arms standing up, and you hold yourself a little tighter, cussing yourself out for leaving your jacket in the car.

"You look good," he calls back without turning in your direction, eyes on the clutter covering every inch of the floor, maybe hoping you won't notice the edge in his voice, “going out tonight?"

That was the plan—before this. "Yeah."

"Who with?"

Eddie doesn't even have enough shame in him to look embarrassed about asking, staring at you openly, like he has any right to know anything about your life now that he's not in it.

"You don't know them," you answer, and he laughs.

"Come on, sweetheart. Your friends are my friends."

And yeah, that used to be the case. Robin still called you up some weekends, inviting you out to girls' nights in a sad little tone. You made up excuses every time, but she still called.

Whatever. They were Eddie's friends first.

"Well, I made new ones."

Eddie runs his tongue over his bottom lip, crossing his arms across his chest.

“What’re their names?”

Jesus, he's such an ass.

"Just a bunch of guys I met outside a liquor store. Said they'd buy me shots tonight if I let them motorboat me in the parking lot."

"Har-har," Eddie rolls his eyes, but you didn't miss the look. His concern for you makes you itch. "Seriously, princess, just wanna know if you're keeping good company."

"Well, I'm not. Can I get my stuff now?"

And maybe you feel kind of bad for lying to him, but you can't let him know the truth—that it'll just be you and a couple girls from work. A few glasses of wine and some gossip. Hell, you'll probably be in bed before midnight.

Eddie digs around at the bottom of his closet, producing a cardboard box littered with garbage—a stack of magazines, some stupid teddy bear he won for you at an arcade, and a couple of bras you'd never be able to wear anymore with the way Eddie's spit is probably permanently fused in the fabric.

A wasted trip.

You try to take the box from him, but Eddie's grip doesn't budge.

"I can carry it out to your car, sweetheart," he says, standing up tall, "unless those biker guys are out there waitin' for you."

"I never said they were bikers," you respond, adjusting your grip on the box, pulling it tighter to your chest. It just has Eddie taking another step closer, big, warm hands sliding over yours.

"Good, 'cause I don't think bikers are your type."

He's whispering a little, lowering his voice all sexy in the way that always used to get you into bed with him.

Not this time.

"Oh fuck you, Eddie. What would you know about my type?"

"Uh, at least a little, honey," he laughs, smiling wide and boyish—so confident, self-assured.

"Don't—" you snatch the box out of his hands, "call me honey."

That's the landmine he's been waiting for you to step on. Eddie looks at you, ready to mash all your buttons until he figures out which ones will have you on him. You wish he wasn't so close to the right combination.

He stalks closer, trapping you up against the closet door, both hands planted above your head. You can't feel anything below your knees.

Voice low, breath wet up against your ear, Eddie says, "what are you gonna do about it, honey?"

The box falls with a whump, spilling all your shit across Eddie's bedroom floor. It's nothing compared sound of your body slammed against the door when your lips finally meet his.

You don't know who started it—whether it was your hands tangled up in his hair or him pinning you in place with his hips. You just know you don't want it to stop.

Eddie's running hot—hot hands at your waist and stubbly skin scratching up your jaw and his whole, hot body pressing up against you, moving just the way you like.

Liked.

You push his hands away with both of yours, trapping them against his sides, but it's not enough to stop him, his mouth at your neck.

"Come on, honey," he whispers, "I said I was sorry."

"I don't want an apology, Eddie."

He tries again, fingertips just brushing against your hips. He looks at you, eyes a little sad, a little too honest.

"Then what can I do to get you back?"

Fuck him. You didn't come here for that either. There's only one thing you want from Eddie Munson, and it's not a box full of bras.

"Get on your knees."

You're surprised his bones don't break with the speed he falls to the floor, thumping against the carpet. Hands already pushing up the hem of your skirt, face pressed low against your stomach. Maybe he's missed this as much as you.

"God, baby," he whispers against your thighs, fingers snaking under the hip of your lacy underwear, "knew you couldn't stay away."

Your knee juts out against his sternum, pushing him back.

"Stop that."

The look on his face is a little stupid, jaw dropped open and his brows furrowed. You were never like this when you were together, always deferring to him in one way or another. But you’re not together anymore.

You crouch down to his level, tracing the tips of your nails over the distended veins in his neck. Eddie's lids flutter, and then fall closed when your lips run over the same path, hand stroking faintly down his arm.

"You don't get to touch me, Eddie," you tell him, and he starts to nod, until his eyes flicker open again and he gets a good look at you, zeroed in on your tits and the low-cut of your dress.

"I- I don't, I mean . . . how?"

You slip the black bandana from his back pocket, give his ass a little squeeze. "Don't worry, honey, I'll help you out."

Eddie doesn't fight you when you push his wrists together, wrapping the cloth around them. He just stares, like he's trying to make sure this isn't a dream, his throat trembling when you pull the knot tight, letting the coarse fabric bite into his skin. You can almost hear a moan on his lips. But maybe you just imagined that.

Besides, you're not worried about what he likes right now.

Back on your feet, you rest your shoulders against the door, jutting your hips out toward him. Eddie looks up at you, big eyes wider than you've ever seen them, wiggling his wrists a little to see if there's any give.

You raise a brow, nudging at the ripped knee of his jeans with your bare toes. "Well?"

Whatever doubts Eddie may have had, they're out the window the second he sees you lifting up your skirt, revealing more and more of the soft skin of your thighs, the black lace you're wearing underneath it.

"Jesus, honey," he shuffles forward until his face is sandwiched between your thighs again, "you wear these for me?"

There's a little laugh on your lips, if only to cover up the way your breath hitches at the way he kisses at your skin, squeezing you between his teeth.

Even without his hands, Eddie Munson is dangerous.

You shift your legs wider so he can fit better, plant a hand in his hair and pull him closer to where you want him.

"Not a chance, Munson. You think the next guy will like them?"

Eddie can't answer. Not vocally at least. His mouth is busy, tongue splitting your lips, before he stops to rub slow circles over your clit through the fabric. Like he's trying to tell you that there's not gonna be a next guy.

Fuck. You thought you were stronger than that, but maybe he's right.

Because, for all his faults, Eddie really knows how to eat pussy. Even without the use of his hands he's got you shaking—better than the feel of his fingers splitting you open, maybe even better than when he'd rip your underwear off you and dive in, nothing to separate you from the pleasure Eddie loved to give.

Your underwear are soaked, and not just from his spit, the sloppy way Eddie devours you, big eyes dark, looking up at you past the bunched up hem of your skirt. He's got you dripping, a little desperate.

Or more than a little.

Eddie's whispering when he pulls back enough he can speak, and you're shocked you can even hear him with the way he's talking directly into your pussy, and through the buzzing in your ears.

"Come on, princess. Let me taste you."

You snake your free hand down—because you want to, not because he asked, pulling the sticky wet fabric to the side. Eddie whistles low and soft when he sees your glistening cunt, the breeze sending a shiver up your spine when it meets your feverish skin.

He moves back in, slower this time, savoring the taste of you, his tongue peeking into your dripping hole and circling the edges, collecting your cum, drinking you up.

You press tighter against him to improve the angle, one leg coming up to rest on his broad shoulder. Eddie groans and the vibrations go straight to your clit.

Fuck, you're close. Close in a way you haven't been since you slammed the door to this apartment all those weeks ago—the kind of close you'd been looking for with your hand between your legs ever since, losing the feeling every time you were reminded that you should be thinking about anyone but Eddie.

But how could you manage? Head like this was hard to find.

Eddie knows that, the fucker, lips circled around your clit, sucking at you like his life depends on it. Your vision goes dark, eyes rolling back of their own accord. The only thing louder than your moans is the sound of Eddie's sloppy mouth working at your core.

You grind your hips down against his face, riding his mouth when the feeling overtakes you, body buzzing as those little uh uh uhs spill from your lips. Shock waves like fireworks traveling through you with each stroke of his tongue.

Fuck.

Eddie doesn't slow down, still abusing your poor clit, sucking at your puffy lips, trying to drain you of all those moans from you until you've got to drag him away by his hair or else he's gonna make you cum again.

And then you'll never want to leave.

Eddie looks up at you, face shiny, and he smiles.

"How was that?"

And it's almost as thrilling as that orgasm, the way his brain so clearly shuts down and stalls when you shift your clothes back to where they were, unphased, patting his cheek with a patronizing little look.

"Passable. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have plans."

Eddie doesn't have quite enough balance to get back on his feet with his wrists still tied, so he shuffles after you on his knees, tripping on clutter and knocking shit over.

"Wait a second, what about me?"

He waves his hands in front of his face, like you might have forgotten that you tied him up, like it wasn’t the highlight of your day.

"I'm sure you'll be able to figure it out, princess."

You don't even bother to look back, and the satisfaction that washes over you probably feels better than heroin.

You're in the living room before you hear Eddie call out again.

"Hey! You forgot all your stuff!"

He doesn't get a response to that one, either. The last Eddie hears from you is the slamming of his front door.

[avonne-writes]

sweetest of the sunflowers

Fandom: Masters of the Air

Pairing: Buck/Bucky

Rating, word count: T, 4k

Summary: John takes care of Gale after his wisdom teeth surgery. (young vets au)

A/N: This is my gift to the amazing, sweet @bcolfanfic in the HBO War Summer Exchange organized by @hbowardaily (thank you for all your work!). My prompt was hurt/comfort with Buck and Bucky, preferably in the young vets au. Mollie, I hope you'll like what I came up with, I tried to do your lovely au justice. Happy exchange day, dear 💕

Link to the AO3 post

Bucky taps his right foot against the ugly brown-gray vinyl of the waiting room's floor, trying to focus. Goosebumps skitter down his arms, but he doesn’t know if it’s from the cold air blasting from the dental clinic's AC to combat the summer heat or if it’s a symptom of his mounting anxiety. Somewhere behind the door he has been staring at for the better half of an hour, Gale is getting his wisdom teeth pulled out under general anesthesia. He’s unconscious, at their mercy. What if something goes wrong? What if they measured the drugs incorrectly and he never wakes up? What if there are complications and he wakes up in excruciating pain? Bucky bounces his knee and digs the fingers of his right hand into the back of his left in a white-knuckled grip. The faux-leather chair creaks under him, barely containing his bulk. 

When his ears pick up on the blare of an approaching ambulance, his head snaps up like a hypervigilant dog’s. It’s not coming here, the rational part of his mind reasons. Everything is okay with Gale. No complications, just a clean, routine surgery, and he’ll be back to normal in a few days. But the sound of the siren keeps getting louder. It’s impossible to ignore it. Bucky’s pounding heartbeat plays a cresting drum solo to accompany it. His mind jumps back to that dreadful night when he tried to end it all. How the ambulance sped with him through those dark Wyoming roads, the long hours when he could barely tell if he was dead or alive, and whether life was the better option out of the two. The most fretful sleep he has ever had.

He remembers how Gale followed him with the car all the way there in the middle of the night. Seven hours. What if Bucky has to do the same for him? What if something happened in there, behind that dark door, and the ambulance is coming to take Gale and rush him to the ER? 

Nervous sweat gathers under Bucky's arms, soaking into his short-sleeved shirt. After they’d called Gale in for his surgery, he went down a rabbit hole of Reddit posts and articles describing the most horrifying wisdom teeth surgery outcomes until he felt like he was going to throw up. He was itching for a smoke - or better yet, a drink, since he has a flask hidden in the glove compartment of the car - but he held himself back. Gale needs him to be at full capacity today. He’s determined to stay firmly planted in his seat until they call for him to take Gale home. 

His leg continues jiggling in agitation until the ambulance comes into view through the wide windows of the clinic. Bucky clenches his teeth, but it just speeds down the road in a plume of dust, its destination unknown. It wasn’t coming to the dental clinic. 

Never even blinking, he keeps staring at the window in utter stillness for a long moment before he finally relaxes. When he sinks back in his chair and looks around the room, several pairs of eyes flicker away. The flush of embarrassment creeps up his neck, especially when he spots a teary-eyed kid with trembling lips clinging to his mom. Fuck, Croz was right not to let him babysit in the state he's in. He’s not fit to be around children. Not fit to be around anyone, he thinks with a dark tone. He’s in public, completely sober, and still, he can’t get a grip on himself and ended up scaring a child, who must have already been in need of comfort because dentists are freakin’ scary. What would Bucky’s episodes do to a kid of his own? No, he can’t subject anyone to that. He can’t even bring himself to think about it. It’s more than enough to see how badly it affects Gale, and Gale is a grown-ass man who sticks around out of his own volition. Before he could even consider parenthood, he needs to get better first.

“Don’t worry, dear.” The elderly woman sitting next to him tells him gently and pats the back of Bucky’s linked hands. “They’re the best around here. They’ll sort your teeth out before you know it. You won’t feel a thing.”

Bucky clears his throat and croaks out a thanks, glancing around and finding strangers turning away again as they get startled by him looking back. He knows his ears must be bright red. I’m a veteran, he wants to tell them. The shit I’ve seen doesn’t go away just like that. But what kind of an excuse is that? By all means, he should have already recovered. He’s not the one whose leg - He shuts that thought down before he could spiral deeper into it. This is neither the place, nor the time. Gale depends on him. He had tried to postpone his own surgery because of Bucky’s issues until his sister found out about it and had a tense talk with both of them. What does that say about Bucky as a husband? It’s high time for him to step up and show Gale that he’s there for Gale too, not just the other way around. He can’t let him down by causing a scene or freaking out. 

Besides, it’s nice not to be “the crazy vet” for once. Now, he’s just the hulking guy with the dentist phobia. Marginally better.

He spins his wedding band around his finger to distract himself. He wants to text Curt just to have someone tell him he’s an idiot to worry and nothing’s gonna happen, but he holds himself back. His incessant unhinged texts and calls are enough of a burden already. He’ll manage this on his own for as long as he can.

Suddenly, the door swings open and the peppy assistant steps out, smiling as she calls for “Mr. Egan.”

Bucky goes deaf and blind from nerves for a split second before he stands up, wipes his clammy palms on his thighs and makes his shaky legs carry him to follow after the woman. She smiles at him warmly as if she hasn’t noticed. 

“Did -” Bucky clears his throat again once they're inside. He struggles with the words, feeling awkward. This place is nothing like the psych ward, but clinical environments will probably never fail to unsettle him. “Did it go all right?”

“Yes, everything went well. All impacted teeth have been removed without any complications.” She directs her cheerful expression at him again as they walk past the operatory. “Mr. Cleven is just through here, in our recovery room.” 

She gestures at the second door they’re approaching. “He’ll be a bit dazed and confused, and he might not be in control of what he says, but remember that this is perfectly normal after anesthesia. Try to reassure him and keep him calm. He needs to stay in the recovery room for at least thirty minutes, then the doctor’s going to check if everything is all right, and whether Mr. Cleven is able to stand and walk on his own.” Her reassuring smile never wavers, and her persistence pays off - Bucky feels the worst of his anxiety drain from his body. “If all is well, he’ll be discharged and you can take him home.”

Bucky nods, feeling slightly dazed himself. He already knew what to expect, but he doesn’t know what the reality of that is going to look like. Gale was so anxious about this part beforehand, and it’s easy to understand why. Helplessness and loss of control would be scary to anyone, but to Gale? It’s a nightmare. He was so scared of it that he refused his sister’s offer to be here in Bucky’s place. I’m not letting anyone else see me like that, John, he said when Bucky tried to discuss whether that would have been the better idea instead. Bucky can only hope that he can provide him enough support. 

He exchanges a few more words and a quiet thanks with the assistant, then pushes the door handle hesitantly.

The room is specifically designed to be a calming space for recovery after procedures requiring anesthesia. It’s quiet, the walls are painted in warm beiges and browns, and the lights are much dimmer than the harsh neon of the operatory. There’s a small cot in one corner and several padded chairs scattered around. Opposite, close to a door with a bathroom sign, a comfy-looking brown recliner armchair takes up the space. That’s where Bucky finds Gale sitting with his feet propped up and his hands limp on the armrests as though the staff arranged him like that themselves. Gale watches him silently, with hooded blue eyes that match his t-shirt and a displeased downward curve of his mouth that makes him look like a cat. There’s gauze sticking out between his lips, but otherwise, he looks fine.

Bucky feels like the sharp inhale of relief he takes is the first one since he saw Gale walk inside.

“Hi sweetheart.” He says gently as he pads over to Gale and pulls up a chair on Gale’s right side. He doesn’t know why he lowers his voice. It’s not as if speaking louder would hurt Gale. He feels ridiculous for it, but it’s instinctive. He hopes Gale doesn’t mind. With a sigh, he sits down and takes Gale’s hand.

Gale pulls it away sluggishly. “Don’t touch me.”

Bucky’s heart freezes in his chest at those slurred words. Is Gale angry with him? Or is he in pain, maybe? How can Bucky make it better? “I’m sorry. I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.”

At a snail’s pace, Gale turns his head to direct his hazy gaze at the door. “You’re handsome but I have a husband, you know.” He mumbles, barely able to get the words out clear enough to be understood. “I’m not a widower.”

The way Bucky’s heart sinks leaves him lightheaded. He has seen a lot of videos about people saying weird things after sedation and he laughed heartily at them all. But there’s nothing funny about this. Nothing. Not being recognized wounds already, but it’s Gale’s second sentence that leaves him truly speechless with guilt and grief. It sounded like Gale was trying to reassure himself that he does, indeed, still have a husband. That the bullet went into the wall, and Bucky to the psych ward instead of the cemetery. There’s nothing funny about hearing Gale unintentionally admit that he thought he might become a widower.

“I know.” Bucky tells him, trying not to get overwhelmed. “I know, darling. It’s me. I’m your husband.”

Gale frowns at the door and blinks slowly, not turning back to Bucky. “My husband is a soldier. A soldier… Your’re in jeans.”

It takes a second for Bucky to make sense of the logic of Gale’s jumbled thoughts and realize that he expected someone in uniform. He’s not sure how to argue with that, so he just bites his lip and reaches for Gale’s hand again. He remembers not to touch only at the last moment, so his hand is left hanging awkwardly on the armrest. Gale’s head tilts as he looks down at it. Slowly, he touches Bucky’s ring with a fingertip and tries to spin it on Bucky’s finger, but his strength leaves him after a moment and he lets his hand drop into Bucky’s open palm. Bucky shifts to hold it properly. This time, Gale doesn’t protest. 

“Gale, look at me, sweetheart. It’s me, John. Bucky.”

Gale’s pale blue eyes find his, blink a few times, then Gale’s lips split into a loopy smile that Bucky finds adorable despite the gauze sticking out of his mouth.

“John!” Gale exclaims, startling Bucky with the volume. “I missed you!”

Despite the fact that he’s still reeling from the reminder that he almost left Gale forever, Bucky can’t help but smile back. “I missed you too. How are you feeling?”

Gale gives him a stricken look and wetness wells up in his eyes. He tries to reach for his own face but seems to decide that he doesn’t have the strength to do it after all and lets his free hand drop back in his lap. “They took all my teeth.” He sniffles.

“No, they didn’t. Don’t worry, they’re still there.”

“They took them!” Gale insists, waving with his arm. He drops his head back against the chair, closes his eyes and makes a crying sound. “I have no teeth and you won’t love me anymore.”

Rationally, Bucky knows that he and Gale are going to laugh at some of the things Gale is saying right now, once Gale is back to himself, but he still feels his heart ache from how vulnerable Gale is like this. What if Bucky couldn't be here? What if the bullet hadn’t gone into the wall, but hit its target instead? Bucky’s guilt intensifies until he can barely take it. He pulls Gale’s hand to his lips and presses a kiss to it. “Do you trust me?”

Gale looks up at him with watery eyes. “Yes.”

“I would still love you without teeth, Gale. But they didn’t take all your teeth, I promise. Only your wisdom teeth.”

“You still love me?” The words stumble wetly from Gale’s mouth. He ignores the rest of what Bucky told him.

“Of course I love you.” Bucky smiles and presses another kiss to Gale’s hand, to which Gale’s reaction is patting at Bucky’s mouth clumsily. He rubs at Bucky’s moustache, seemingly fascinated by those short whiskers of hair. He looks lost in his delirious thoughts. Bucky lets him - he doesn’t think he could deny Gale anything now, so overcome he is with fondness.

“I wanted a bunny.” Gale says mournfully. His articulation is getting better, but his eyes are still unfocused and he clearly doesn’t have any of his filters working. “For my birthday. A black bunny. Not white because white bunnies have red eyes.”

Bucky can’t help it, he snorts a laugh. Gale snickers along with him, completely out of it. Gently, Bucky pulls Gale’s hand away and holds it in his own. “This year?” Probably not, but it’s a hilarious thought nonetheless.

Gale doesn’t answer. He stares at Bucky, narrows his eyes, then widens them in a look of wonder and glances around the room. His head tilts in a way that suggests he can barely hold it up. “Whoa, can we get one of these chairs?”

A frown pulls at Bucky’s eyebrows. “Which ones?”

“The blue ones.” Gale says, pointing shakily at the corner of the room that’s set up for children. There’s a low table with sheets of paper and crayons scattered on it, and around it, a few plastic kid chairs.

Bucky stifles another laugh. “Those are for kids, baby. I know you keep saying I’m a big child, but I don’t think that could hold my weight.”

Gale hums. It stretches out so long that it’s like a growl, as if he enjoys the vibration of his own voice and doesn’t want to stop until he runs out of breath. “‘s for our kid.”

Bucky’s smile falls. “Our kid?”

They haven’t talked about that since Bucky’s… Since the worst night of his life. It was clear as day that they couldn’t bring another soul into the mess he caused with his fucked-up mental health. Gale never mentioned it, never even hinted at it since that night. The longing is still there in his eyes whenever he sees Bucky play with children, but this is the first time that Bucky heard it from his mouth that he wants a kid. That he still wants it, after everything.

“I think they’d like it, it’s - it’s -” Gale doesn’t finish his thought out loud, but jumps straight to the next. “You’d be a wonderful dad. The best dad. I’ve thought it all out.” He nods to himself. “The best dad.”

For the second time since he entered the room, Bucky’s heart contracts painfully. “I'm not fit to be a dad, Gale. Not now.”

Gale makes a sudden, wide gesture of frustration and hits Bucky’s arm by accident, but it’s too weak to hurt. “Told you I’d thought it all out.” He mumbles something unintelligible, then drops his head back against the chair. “You take good care of your plants. The plants love you, John. They’re beautiful.” He takes a deep breath and sighs as if settling down to sleep. “I love you too.”

Bucky doesn’t know what to say, so he just swipes his thumb back and forth over the back of Gale’s hand and goes for humor. “And you’re beautiful. I think I see a pattern there.”

“Yes, I’m beautiful.” Gale smiles, as if anything Bucky told him now was a universal truth. "You’re not allowed to kiss me."

Bucky bites back a grin. He may not be allowed but it sounds like Gale certainly wants him to break that rule. "Why not?"

"Dangerous." Gale pouts and touches his own lips. Before he could stick his fingers in his mouth to explore what must be a weird sensation of numbness in there, Bucky grabs his wrist and pulls it away.

"How about a kiss on the cheek, hm?" He shakes Gale’s hands playfully. He knows he shouldn't French kiss Gale for 24 hours after surgery, but that doesn’t mean that everything is off the table. "I think that’s allowed."

After a moment of contemplative silence, Gale gives him an uncoordinated nod. "Only if you keep it a secret."

"Deal." Bucky chuckles and presses a kiss to Gale’s cheek, where it curves like an apple whenever Gale smiles wide.

“Can we go home now?” He hears Gale ask when he pulls back.

He glances at the clock on the wall. “We need to stay here for a few more minutes. Just until you feel better.”

“Oh, okay.” Gale says, then, immediately after, “I feel better.” 

“You need to be able to walk first.”

Gale’s eyes snap open and he starts wrestling with gravity to pull himself up and out of the chair. “I can walk.”

Bucky tries to nudge him back down. “Don’t be impatient. We’re not running anywhere, are we?”

“I’m running.” Gale declares with all the determination and none of the muscle control needed for a normal gait. He pushes himself to the edge of the armchair, which already proves to be a struggle, then he turns sideways instead of tilting the recliner back into its default position. “I’m good at it.”

“Easy, easy.” Bucky stands up and places his hands on Gale’s shoulders lightly. An amused smile plays around his lips. “Why don’t you stay put, just for a little while more? Hm?”

A small, frustrated grunt escapes Gale’s lips as he tries to push himself up. “I can do it.”

“Gale, sit your ass down.”

The forlorn look on Gale’s face makes Bucky’s smile widen in fondness. 

Gale glares at him, profoundly annoyed. “I can walk. I could do a cartwheel. I just don’t want to.”

“Sure you could.”

“I’m the best at cartwheels. The best. Better than you. I practiced in our backyard.”

“Our backyard?”

“I don’t know.” Gale huffs, then shakes his head. “Practiced after school.”

Bucky bites his bottom lip to keep from grinning. It must have been primary or middle school then. He imagines a wildly blond ten-year-old falling all over himself in the grass, stubborn to get it right. “Did you wanna impress someone?”

Gale hums in agreement, then hugs Bucky around the waist with his trembling arms. He pushes his forehead against Bucky’s stomach. “John, I wanna go home.”

“Shh.” Bucky soothes him, stroking his hair. When he puts a hand on each of Gale’s arms, Gale goes completely limp. He lets Bucky hold him up. “I’ll take you home in no time.”

“Can we go to Subway first?” Gale’s voice is muffled in his shirt. It’s not terribly slurred anymore, but it isn’t clear and measured either. “Like a date? Like a Bagram date. Can you take me back to Bagram? I wanna flirt with you.”

Bucky laughs softly and rocks them back and forth in place. He doesn’t like to think of Bagram, but the memories of their Subway dates remain bright, happy spots like a string of fairy lights in the clusterfuck of darkness the rest of it became. He makes a mental note to take Gale out on a date once he’s allowed to eat solid food again. “You don’t need to go back to Bagram to flirt with me.”

“I’m flirting with you now.” Gale says automatically, and tightens his arms around Bucky’s waist. “I think it’s working.”

Bucky grins and pushes a hand under the collar of Gale’s shirt to stroke his back the way Gale likes it. “Yeah? What gave me away?”

As he turns his head sideways, Bucky can see that Gale’s eyes are closed, and he’s smiling. “Just a gut feeling.” Gale hums contemplatively. “And Curt says so too.”

“Curt, huh?”

“Curt loves you too.” 

Golden warmth spreads through Bucky’s chest. It’s strange that marriage can feel like this sometimes. Affection so deep that it wounds. “Makes sense, since he claims to be a pretty boy.”

Gale giggles.

They stay embracing like that until Gale’s dentist comes back to check if he can be discharged.

~♡~

On the way home, in the familiar safety of their car, Gale gets even chattier than before. He narrates the entire drive, happy and relaxed, and sings along to the Fleetwood Mac songs Bucky put in his playlist. It’s only when Bucky turns the car onto their driveway that he quiets down. He doesn’t say anything when they stop, not even when Bucky gives him a reassuring smile. He stays silent even as Bucky climbs out of the car, circles around to his side and unbuckles his seatbelt. However, as Bucky helps him out of his seat, his limbs start trembling again.

At first, Bucky thinks it's muscle weakness, but when he loops Gale’s arm around his shoulders to walk him inside, Gale’s steps are steadier than he expected. He guides Gale into the bedroom and helps him lie down under the covers, but still, Gale doesn’t stop shaking. He’s very lethargic now, but when Bucky sits on the mattress beside him and runs a hand through his blond hair, his lips curl into a faint smile.

“Do you need anything?” Bucky asks quietly.

Gale gives him a tired look. “I'm cold.”

“Oh.” Bucky wants to slap himself for not considering that. He roots around in their closet until he finds Gale’s JSTOR sweater, then helps Gale into it, one arm at a time. He wishes Gale had told him sooner or that he’d realized what the shaking meant, but he can’t do anything about that now.

When he tries to tuck the blanket around Gale again, Gale pulls at his arm until Bucky lies down too, spooning Gale from behind. Speckles of marigold-yellow light sneak in through the half-drawn blinds. Some of them dance on the books lying on Gale’s nightstand, sparks of magic on the colourful covers. Bucky feels himself relax just looking at it.

“You’d be the best dad.” Gale repeats. His breathing slows down. “Told you.”

“All right.”

“I'm so tired.”

Bucky presses a kiss to the back of Gale's neck and breathes in his sweet scent, the smell of home. “Go to sleep.”

“I don't want to.”

“Why not?”

It takes Gale so long to reply that Bucky thinks he has fallen asleep. But eventually, he mumbles something into his pillow. “I'm scared.”

“Don’t be.” Bucky tells him softly and strokes his arm, then his side before wrapping his arm around his waist again. He slots his body as close to Gale's as possible to cradle him in warmth and comfort. “I'm here.”

Gale tightens his grip on Bucky’s hand. “Promise you won’t leave me.”

Bucky squeezes back. “I promise. I’ll be here when you wake up, baby.”

Safe in his arms, Gale finally falls asleep.