bluemoon-fever - Tumblr blog

bluemoon-fever · 8 hours

Text

Ahh! This is so exciting. This inspired me to work on something new (I haven’t written in what feels like forever), and I’m excited to read and discover new fics/writers!

Cum Together: A Community Revival Extravaganza

@labella420 had the amazing idea to host an event to try to boost engagement, revive our community, and have some fun while we’re at it. If you’re like us, you probably miss “the good ole days” or perhaps you’re feeling disappointed by the lack of engagement, so! Here’s your chance to join in on some shameless hoe revelry and have some fun with your fellow CE hoes 🤗

And! This extravaganza isn’t just for writers, it’s for readers, too!

Keep reading to find out how we can all cum together (lollll) and indulge in some shenanigans while breathing some life back into our beloved CE fandom. You may even get a custom fic written just for you out of it 😘

EXTRAVAGANZA DETAILS

When: April 28 - May 4

How to Participate:

👉🏻 Writers: Write and post a fic (or fics!) about any Chris Evans character using one (or more!) of the prompts below.

👉🏻Readers: Engage with your favorite writers via reblogs or asks.

Your Participation = An Entry Into Our Cum Together 2024 Raffle

Writers, for each fic you post for the extravaganza, you will earn one entry into our raffle. Be sure to use the tag #CT 2024 raffle entry the first time you post your fic(s), as well as for any asks you receive from readers engaging with you for the event, so we can record all participation.

Readers, each time you engage with a writer via a reblog or ask, you will earn one entry into our raffle. For your reblogs, be sure to use the tag #CT 2024 raffle entry so that we can record your participation. For your asks to writers, be sure to mention the event so we know it’s an entry for the challenge. We would also suggest reblogging any writer ask replies to your asks with the entry tag as well.

At the end of the extravaganza, Bella and I will randomly select 2 raffle winners who will get to request a custom CE fic written by one of us 🥳

THE MORE YOU PARTICIPATE AND ENGAGE, THE MORE ENTRIES YOU EARN TO GET YOUR CUSTOM STORY! (ALSO THE HAPPIER YOU’LL MAKE YOUR FELLOW HOES AND THE MORE FUN YOU’LL HAVE!)

Rules for Fic Entries:

500 word minimum, no max! (Please put your story under a cut after 150 words.)

Original works only. If your story is part of a series, it must be able to be read as a standalone piece.

Please tag me @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420 when posting so that we can reblog as many fics as possible and record your raffle entries. (You don’t need to follow us to join in!)

Include the tag #CT 2024 raffle entry on the original post of your fic (not on reblogs or reblog replies, please.)

Any genre accepted! Can be fluff, angst, comedy, AU, dark, whatever you want.

Please stick to fictional CE characters only, no RPF.

Reader insert stories are preferred vs OCs. LGBTQ+, BIPOC, & interracial stories are welcome and encouraged!

No toilet stuff, no necrophilia, no snuff, or bestiality. Non-con and dub-con must fall within commonly posted dark fics.

Please include warnings as needed for smut, explicit language, explicit sexual content, non-con, dub-con, dark fic, trigger warnings, 18+, etc.

Rules for Reader Engagement Entries:

75-word minimum for your engagement posts/asks - no blank reblogs or one liner “reblogs” allowed. Show your favorite authors some love and appreciation for their hard work providing free content that you enjoy. If you struggle to come up with what to say, check out this post for ideas.

Reader engagement entries must be one of the following 1) a reblog of an author’s work or masterlist, or 2) a reblog of an author’s reply to an event ask you submitted to them.

Include the tag #CT 2024 raffle entry on any of your reblogs or writer ask reply reblogs and also tag me and @labella420 so we can track your entries.

Please stick to fictional CE character works only.

Odds & Ends:

Each writer can submit a maximum of 3 stories.

There is no limit on reader engagement entries - we want you to participate and boost engagement!

Writers do not need to claim or request a prompt.

Smut writers and characters must be 18+.

Writers can also participate as readers for this challenge, and vice versa. So basically anyone can have writer and reader entries.

We reserve the right to not reblog any post.

STORY PROMPTS

CUM TOGETHER PROMPTS:

Characters A + B cum together at the same time

Meeting your long distance partner in person for the first time

“Tell me your favorite way to cum so I can satisfy you the way you deserve.”

Pining + running into each other after a long time apart + frantic kisses

Pouncing on your partner as soon as they arrive home from a trip away

“My favorite thing in the world is being here with you.”

Showing up at your love’s home in the middle of the night because you need to be with them

Soulmates meeting for the first time

“Admit it, you didn’t really know true happiness until you met me.”

Character A can’t cum until Character B does

MULTI-PROMPT PROMPTS:

Blackmail + Cum play + “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it? I think you even enjoyed it.”

“Show me.” + Frightened + Cabin in the woods

Yellow + Feel like you’re being watched + “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

Coercion + Multiple CE babes + “Aw, don’t cry, honey, we promise we’ll be good to you if you’re good to us.”

Proposal + Happy tears + “Nailed it.”

Meetcute + embarrassed + “My hero.”

DIALOGUE PROMPTS:

“Do you even know how to be nice? I bet you can’t say one nice thing about me.”

“I swear to God, if you make me come in there, you’re gonna regret it.”

“How about a little wager?”

“If you correctly guess the color of my panties, I’ll let you take them off me.”

“Bet I can make you cum first.”

“You are such a fucking menace.”

KINK PROMPTS:

Breeding

Competency

Oral sex

Innocence

Soft!dom

Primal play

Free use

Somnophilia

Overstimulation

Praise

TROPE & AU PROMPTS:

A/B/O

Only one bed

Mob AU

Two idiots in love

The one that (almost) got away

Biker AU

Friends to lovers

Basement wife (or husband!) AU

CE!babe is a cam!boy

Seeking comfort

CEO AU

Enemies to lovers

Tagging some lovelies who may be interested or want to signal boost the event, no pressure though! ❤️

@yenzys-lucky-charm-library @krirebr @thezombieprostitute @paperweight91 @eulalielatibule @anika-ann @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @jamneuromain @our-marvel-universe @precious1610 @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @alicedopey @biteofcherry @buckets-and-trees @avintagekiss24 @before-we-get-started @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @saiyanprincessswanie @sagechanoafterdark @gifsbysimplysonia @golden-ariess @ghotifishreads @giorno-plays-piano @hansensgirl @lilacevans @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @lauratang @needlereads @nowandajenn @rodrikstark @worksby-d @universitypenguin @vonalyn @jtargaryen18 @chase-your-dreams-away @secretswiftymarvelfan @crazyunsexycool @jesevans @emerald-writes @targaryenvampireslayer @foxgloveprincess @nekoannie-chan @americasass81 @sgtnightwolfinthetardis @holacia3 @gracet93 @astheskycries

(Sorry if I forgot anyone, I'm sooo bad at remembering in the moment/tagging lolol.)

P.S. Amazing, stunning, beautiful, panty ruining banner made by the supremely talented @labella420 😍

261 notes · View notes

bluemoon-fever · 1 day

Text

the girl next door 8

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

Your head is throbbing. The hangover of your night of crying greets you like a drumbeat. You cradle your skull and shudder, roused only by a clink from the kitchen. You grumble and sit up, blearily checking the clock beside your bed. The digital numbers stamp your vision. It’s too early for your mom to be up. You can’t even remember the last time she was awake before you.

You know she won’t be happy about having to make her own coffee. You get up, clumsy steps carrying you to the door as you rub your temples. You go out into the hall, your tee shirt caught in the top of your striped linen sleep shorts.

You squeak as you stop in the doorway of the kitchen. It’s not your mom. You’re so surprised, you can’t move. You drop your hands, hugging yourself as you stare at Steve’s back, his broad shoulders stretching the leopard print of your mother’s robe. The insinuation of the piece of clothing, makes you choke.

He glances over his shoulder before you can flee. His gray hair is slightly mussed and you can see his boxers poking out past the short hem of the robe. You sway on your feet.

“Good morning, sweetie. Want some coffee?” He asks, sleep dragging in his voice, “pot just finished brewing.”

“Oh, um... I’ll make my own.”

“More than enough,” he insists as he takes out another mug from the cupboard. His familiarity with the place makes you squirm.

“Erm,” you bite your lip.

“Here,” he turns to you with a mug. “You like sugar? Milk?”

“Black,” you answer as he nears.

You accept the cup as he holds it out. His lack of shame makes you even more uncomfortable. You are an adult. It isn’t that absurd that your mom would have... needs. It’s just not something you know much about. Nor had you ever really thought about her finding someone like this. She only ever griped about your father and every other man she knew.

“Wow, I would’ve thought you had a sweet tooth,” he remarks.

You shake your head, “thanks.”

You turn to escape with the comfort of the coffee. He hums as if disappointed but you let the sound fade behind you. You close your bedroom door and quickly cross the room, as if to get as far from him as possible.

You just weren’t prepared. You’re still reeling from the night before and your bout of tears. Ugh. You’re just stupid. You get so swept up in stupid emotions and then you mope around. You sip the coffee and set the cup down.

You look down at your bare legs and cross them, pulling subconsciously on your tee shirt. Oh gosh. You’d been walking around in front of him like this.

You grab the cup again. You focus on finishing it, on letting the temperature sooth you. You hear your mother’s voice but it’s distant and indiscernible. When you empty the mug, you go to your bed and sprawl out. You’ll probably just stay in here all day; out of the way, alone. Not much you can do with a headache.

You close your eyes and drift into a shallow half-sleep. You can feel the day brighten outside the window and hear the chirping birds but your room is shrouded in fog. A knock breaks through your stupour. You groan and roll onto your side.

The door opens and you lift your head to look at your mom.

“You’re not staying in your bed all day,” she stomps into the room, “get up. Go for a walk or something.”

“A walk?” You sit up, head wobbly.

“I don’t care where but you need to get out of this house,” she snarls, her lip quivering. You won’t ask if she’s used her inhaler, she’s already worked up, “get out of my way.”

You blink and nod. You stand up and go to your dresser. She huffs, “and don’t make a whole thing when you leave. Just go.”

You pull out a pair of thin pants as she slams the door behind her. You frown and change, quickly making yourself tolerably presentable. You don’t know that even if your clothes were nicer or your face prettier, that you would ever feel acceptable.

You take a book and go into the hallway as quietly as you can. The smell of maple makes your stomach growl. You glance down toward the kitchen and stay close to the wall. You creep down to the entryway and slip your feet into your shoes.

“Hey, off to somewhere?” Steve startles you as he peeks out of the kitchen, a spatula in hand.

“Um,” you look back and forth.

“She’s just going for her morning walk,” your mother chirps as she appears from behind him, “aren’t you, honey?”

You nod stiffly. Morning walk? You can’t remember the last time you walked past the end of the avenue.

“Oh, I wish I’d known. I’d love to come with. Maybe explore the neighbourhood,” Steve says, “what about breakfast? You wanna eat first?”

You look at your mom. She grimaces. You shake your head.

“Not hungry. Thanks.”

“Hm, alright,” he frowns, disappointed, “I’ll put some aside for you. Maybe another day.”

He goes back into the kitchen and your mom mouth’s one word, ‘go’.

You do as she says and you leave. You clutch your book tightly as you come down the front steps and try to figure out what to do. There’s a bench near the park you can sit on and read. A chapter will take a while and you should try to spend more time outside.

Your eyes narrow against the sunshine. Your head still hurts and your now your stomach is clenching violently. Just the smell of food had you ravenous. Well, there’s be cold pancakes waiting for your return at least.

You find the bench. It’s not where you remembered. It wasn’t by the entrance but further inside. Still, it’s early and there’s no one there.

You sit and watch the birds for a while before you open the book. A few squirrels skitter by, chasing each other’s tails, and you smile. You like being outside. You just don’t enjoy the people outside.

You put your head down and start the chapter. You can’t really remember what happened in the last one. It’s been a while since you were able to focus enough to read a book cover to cover.

As the morning light shifts, a woman and two children appear at the park entrance. The follow the path to the play place and you watch from afar. Soon, several other kids arrive to join the fun. Their parents stand around the parameter in pairs and clusters, chatting as they watch the younger crowd. You should find somewhere else.

You stand and notice someone walking toward you. You watch Marge as she approaches, and another woman, you think her name is Callie. You smile at them nervously. Are they mad? You don’t have kids, why are you sitting there?

“Good morning,” Marge chimes in a sing song voice, “you’re up bright and early.”

“Morning,” you murmur and peer between the blondes.

“And how’s your mother?” Callie asks with an edge.

“Okay,” you swallow dryly, hugging the book to your chest.

“Mm, great, that’s great. Your lawn looks much better,” Marge praises.

You nod and slant your mouth.

“You’re so lucky to have such a helpful new neighbour,” Marge smirks, “he seems so nice.”

You just stare back at her. You don’t know what she wants you to say. Sorry? Should you have done it yourself? You were going to but the mower broke.

“What’s his name?” Callie asks.

You frown.

“You can tell us,” Marge steps closer, “really? We’re just curious. We want to welcome him to the neighbourhood. I made him lasagna and I wanna know what to call him when I show up.”

You feel your chest locking up. They remind you of the girls in highschool who would take your lunch tray. You chew your lip until it’s raw.

“We know he’s been talking to your mother. And you. It’s a small neighbourhood, hon,” Callie chirps, “just tell us his name.”

You push your shoulders up and sidestep away from them. The bench presses to your knees as you retreat. They turn on you, following with hands on their hips.

“Don’t run away, hon. We’re neighbours--”

“I don’t know,” you say. “I gotta go home.”

Marge sighs and Callie blows a raspberry, “boo,” the former says, “fine, run home to mommy.”

You turn away and barely keep from doing just that. You don’t know why they care but you wouldn’t guess anything good. They have wanted you and your mom out of the suburb for as long as you’ve been through. Maybe they think Steve would be a perfect ally in their crusade.

#fic rec #currently reading

117 notes · View notes

bluemoon-fever · 1 day

Text

the girl next door 7

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

This lewk but silverfox

Your body is stiff. You blame your late-night drawing session hunched over the folding table. You feel it in your neck and shoulder. You sit up and groan, rubbing your muscles as you try to loosen the knots. You roll your arms as you stand up, yawning as you rub your eyes.

A dewy breeze flows in. The air feels like rain but the density has yet to break. You remember vaguely in the middle of the night cracking the window to cool off, your room stagnant and stale.

You near the window in your baggy shirt, dampened slightly with your sweat. It’s caught under your chest as you bulge against the fabric. You pull it free as you stand in front of the pane and blanch as you see movement on the other side. Shoot.

Your eyes meet Steve’s as he closes the window across from yours. He can feel the approaching storm too. He smiles and gives a two-fingered wave. You lift your hand weakly, barely extending your fingers before you tug shut the curtains. How much did he see? How much could he see?

You go out to get the day started. The overhead light of kitchen blares yellow across the space and you put the coffee pot on to brew. As you wait, you tidy the table, once more cluttered with your mother’s forgotten distractions. The crossword book, several pens, a home magazine, and several wrappers.

You slow the pour of coffee into your mug as you hear your mom’s bedroom door. You stare at the doorway until she appears. She limps to the table and sits heavily. You put the cup before her and grab another for yourself. She mutters and leans her head in her hand. She was home late last night.

You go to grab her inhaler from the bathroom. Once more, it’s missing. You return and find it on the counter hidden beside a used plate. It's only then you notice the blackened frozen fries on the cookie sheet. What the heck?

“Ugh, that man,” she croaks, letting it roll into a laugh, “he convinced me to have a little wine after the milkshake.” You put her inhaler in front of her. She raises her head and scowls. She rubs the furrow between her brows. “And then another. And another.”

You don’t even remember her getting home. You were up until one in the morning drawing. She must have been much later. How hadn’t you heard her make all this mess?

You sip your coffee around cleaning up. You wash the glass from the milkshake Steve brought over and set it aside. Your mother hacks and clears her throat.

“Mm, he’s too nice,” she mutters, “told him you didn’t need that. Too much sugar. You don’t even like strawberry.”

You hide your frown. You like strawberry. You’re not sure why she thinks otherwise. She’s never really asked.

“I’ll bring the glass back--”

“You remember your manners,” she girds before she hums into her coffee cup. She gulps through her wet lips noisily. “I don’t need you ruining this.”

“I will, mom.”

“Ugh,” she stands up with a groan, “I need my chair.”

Her hand trembles and the cup with it. She spills a little over the sides but doesn’t pay attention to it. You dump the tray of burnt fries and put it in the sink. You just cleaned this place top to bottom. You don’t think you’re that messy but it’s always a disaster.

You clean the rest of the dishes and put them away. Your mom hollers for more coffee and you bring the pot with you to refill her cup. She leans it on her chest and closes her eyes.

“I’m going to take the glass back now, I guess.”

“Mph, do whatever,” she utters irritably.

You trod back to your room and change into real clothes; straight-legged jeans and a stripped jersey tee. You just want to get this over with. It’s so awkward. You would rather your mom just take it back the next time she goes over but she’s in rough shape. It must be the alcohol. She’s not really supposed to have any.

You grab the glass and put on your shoes. As you come out, there’s a speckling of rain falling from the sky. You go up the walk and around the sidewalk, coming back down the pavement squares to Steve’s porch. You stop and look up at his front door. You climb the steps and drag your feet to the door.

You tap the bell. It’s one of those ones with the camera built-in. You feel overly conscious as you stand before the lens. The door opens before you can prepare yourself.

“Hey, sweetie,” Steve greets, “how are you?”

“Erm. Okay. Here.”

You hold out the glass. He doesn’t take it. He leans on the doorframe and smile.

“Crummy day, huh? Supposed to thunderstorm soon,” he comments, “too bad, I was really wanting to get that pool going.”

“Mm, yeah,” you keep the glass raised before you.

“Oh well, guess I’ll have to figure out what to do all pent up. Maybe a movie night? With all this moving, I’m way behind.”

You look at his chest, staring at the short-sleeved button up with chagrin. What is he talking about? Why is he talking so much?

“You got any suggestions? You youngins always know what’s hip,” he shakes his head and laughs, “sorry, I sound old, don’t I?”

“No,” you answer dully.

“No what? No suggestions or no I don’t sound old?” He challenges.

Your eyes go round and you look him in the face. “I don’t know.”

“I’m teasing--”

“Here,” you wiggle the glass at him.

He takes it, his fingers brushing against yours. You let it go and recoil. You bare your teeth strangely and back away, “thanks, er. Bye.”

You turn and cringe at the grey sky. You trudge off the porch and cut across the lawn, too mortified not to trod over his grass. You clamber up the front steps and quickly shut yourself inside the house. You hiss at yourself as you press your back to the door.

“Don’t slam the goddamn door,” your mother sneers, “Jesus. No wonder this place is falling apart.”

🏠

It’s one of those days where you’re just sad. You can’t pinpoint why. It’s just a vague malaise that won’t leave. Even as the sun beams and deepens to a soft evening hue, you can’t see a light among the dark.

You don’t know how long you’ve been like that. Under your covers, crying for no good reason. It just hurts to be. You keep your arm folded over your pounding head. You just want to sleep and yet you can’t cross the barrier into unconscious.

You give up and roll onto your back, pulling the blanket to your waist. You exhale and stare up at the ceiling. You’re head swims from the deluge of tears. You sop them up with the sheet and sit up. Your head is full and throbbing.

You get up, bleary-eyed, and muddle your way through reality. You pull open your door and find the bathroom on instinct alone. You shut yourself in and blow your nose. The effort has you even more dizzy. You shake your head, trying to clear out the fog, and turn on the cold water. You throw it across your face, holding a wet palm to your forehead to try to ease the tension.

Your ears tickle with a strange noise. A low drone. Like bass on the front television. Now and again, your mom will amp up the TV but it’s unexpectedly loud. You twist off the faucet and stand straight. You dry off and head back into the hall, peering down at the shifting light glaring from the living room doorway.

“Woahhh,” the voice catches you unaware as someone collides with you from behind in the dim hallway. You stumble and turn to face Steve as popcorn scatters onto the floor, tumbling over the brim of the bowl. The smell tugs at your stomach, “sorry sweetie, I didn’t see you there.”

You look at his silhouette, unable to make out any of his features. You didn’t even know he was there. Your mother didn’t even warn you. You suspect that may have been purposeful.

“Sweetie?”

“Sorry,” you back up, “didn’t mean... to get in the way.”

You turn and shuffle back to your room. He follows, “your mom said you weren’t feeling good. Hope you get better soon, but if you’re interested, we’re watching a movie.”

Your bedroom door is wide open. If you’d known, you would’ve been sure to shut it tight.

“No, thank you,” you grab the handle and slowly shift the door behind you.

“No problem,” he calls after you, “offer stands if you change your mind.”

You click the door shut gently and stay on the other side, listening for his footsteps. He lingers, a bit too long, and it’s only as he walks away that you go back to your bed. There’s something strange about him. Or maybe it’s just you.

#fic rec #currently reading

127 notes · View notes

bluemoon-fever · 3 days

Text

Their first official meeting! Ari now we see why Bird gives you a hard time 😂 I love these two!

Hello, Duchess

Summary: Your first encounter with Bounty Hunter, Ari Levinson, goes worse than you ever could've imagined. Takes place directly after the events in New in Town.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Bickering, Implied Jealousy, Threats of Violence, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Special thanks to my creative consultant, @curls-and-eyeliner. Part my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Ari’s P.O.V.

“Can’t believe this town actually has a real live bookstore.” Ari muses as he pulls up in front of the tiny, quaint-looking bookstore. “Fuckin’ wild.” Throwing his truck in park he takes a moment to survey the area, making note of the empty lot.

‘Must not do much business.’ He thinks before climbing out of his vehicle and confidently striding toward the door. Hopefully, the lack of an audience would make things flow a hell of a lot faster. Hell, if you were anything like some of the other women in this town, he’d probably just have to smile and flash his baby blues to convince you to spill your guts.

In fact, he was practically banking on it. Because this wasn’t Ari’s first rodeo – not by a long shot. He’d spent a lot of his life in and out of small towns like Bell’s Creek, which was part of the reason he couldn’t wait to bag his latest bounty and put this place, and its people, in his rearview mirror. Ari reaches for the handle on the door, only to frown when he gets a look at the sign hanging in the window that reads: “sorry, we’re closed”.

Well, that couldn’t be right.

He could’ve sworn that when he’d pressed Mrs. Turner, the First Lady of Calvary Baptist Church, about your whereabouts she’d said he’d be able to find you at your shop. Something about your preferring to work instead of resting and rejoicing on the Lord’s day.

While the bounty hunter supposed he could always try back tomorrow, he was keen to check you off his list. Refusing to admit defeat, he decides to try his luck anyway, only to be surprised when the door opens with a tinkling chime of a bail.

Confused but also now on high alert, Ari takes a tentative step inside as he looks for any sign of life. “Hello?” He calls out, finally allowing the door to swing shut behind him. Instinct has him reaching for his back pocket, checking to make sure he had brought along his firearm.

Just in case.

“Is anybody here?” He tries again, moving further into the shop. The place is clean and well lit, and boasts rack after rack of books. But what’s most impressive is that there doesn’t appear to be a speck of dust anywhere. “Look, I just came by to–”

“We’re closed!” A disembodied voice sounds from the back of the store.

“Yeah, I saw the sign, ma’am…” He clears his throat. “But I think you forgot to lock the door, so I –”

“That means get out!”

“So much for southern hospitality.” Ari grumbles under his breath as he continues on his mission to track down the owner of the voice. “Ma’am, I just wanna talk. And maybe–ahh shit!” He curses when his hip accidentally connects with a half-full rolling cart, sending several of the heavier books crashing to the ground. “Sorry!”

“Did you just break something?!” The voice suddenly screeches. “Don’t make me get my taser.”

“There’s no need for that.” Instead of picking them up, the bounty hunter hastily nudges them aside with his foot. “My name is Ari Levinson, and I’m just here to ask you a couple of questions.”

While this isn’t how the man had expected any of this to go, he’s relieved when he sees a familiar face peek at him from around the corner. A face that happened to be even more beautiful than he initially remembered. Even though it had only been a couple of hours since he’d seen you last.

Sweet Christ! That vision of you in that dress taking up space at the other end of the pew was now permanently imprinted into his brain.

Your P.O.V

“Pretty sure this is what law enforcement calls trespassing.” You sniff, craning your head around the corner to stare at the man who was taking up entirely too much space in the narrow hallway. Sure said man was easy on the eyes, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little concerned about his apparent inability to read.

“I can assure you that’s not what this is.” The lawman holds up his palms in an effort to placate you.

And although you try not to stare, it’s impossible to miss just how big they are – how rough they seemed – with just the right amount of callus. You can’t help but wonder what those hands would feel like on your bare flesh.

“Then what is it?” You ask, struggling to keep your tone short and clipped as you emerge from your hiding place. The last thing you needed was to have this man thinking you were actually attracted to him.

If anything, you considered yourself to be curious. Nothing harm there, right?

“As I said, my name is Ari Levinson. I’m a bounty hunter from just outside Rosewell, New Mexico who also occasionally moonlights as a private investigator.” He tells you, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I just stopped by to ask you a couple of questions. And while I didn’t necessarily mean to intrude, I figured you might appreciate me taking a more delicate approach on account of your relationship with my person of interest.”

Fucking Martin Westbrook. He’d been the bane of your existence ever since you’d crossed paths in high school.

“I know you’re looking for Martin.” Annoyed by the very nature of the conversation, you pick up a box, hefting it onto your hip so that you can carry it out to the sales floor. “But I’m not quite sure how much help I can be.”

You brush past him, inwardly smiling when he scrambles to get out of your way. It was a subtle reminder that this was your shop. And you absolutely refused to be intimidated by him or anyone else.

“I’m sure whatever you have to say will be plenty helpful.” He’s quick to reassure you as he turns to follow the path you set. “Provided you’re honest, that is.”

“Did you really just waltz into my shop and call me a liar, Mr. Levinson?”

“I meant no offense.” Ari coughs, scrubbing a weary hand over his bearded jaw. If you were the overly presumptuous type, you might think you’d just managed to fluster the poor man.

Now feeling extra prickly, you drop the box onto the far counter of your cashwrap before turning to face your unwelcome guest. “As you can see, I have a busy day’s work ahead of me. And I was really keen on doing it by myself.” You gesture at the array of other boxes and racks placed around the store. “So if we could get a move on, I would greatly appreciate it.”

“Gladly.” He gives a brief look around. “Is there some place maybe where you and I can sit and chat?”

“I’d say here is about as good a place as any.” You tell him as you step behind the counter. Bending down, you snag a bottle of cleaner, along with a couple of rags. If this man insisted on being here, then he would just have to deal with you taking care of your business. “I’m pretty confident in my ability to multitask.”

Nodding along, Ari pulls out a small notepad and pen from his back pocket. “When was the last time you saw Mr. Westbrook?”

You let out a sigh as you begin to spray down your countertops with your all-purpose cleaner. While you supposed you could’ve gone with something a little more industrial, you were partial to the way this particular brand’s products always smelled.

“I don’t know.” You shrug as you bask in the scent of rose and cedar. “Maybe three, four weeks ago.”

“Do you happen to recall the day and time?”

“No. Not really. If I had to ballpark it, I’d guess sometime around the 5th of last month.” You move to the next flat surface, spraying it down just like the last.

“You sure about that?” You try not to let it irk you when you see him take a seat on a nearby step stool out of the corner of your eye.

“As much as I can be.”

“And did Mr. Westbrook happen to give you any indication of where he might be headed?”

“Nope.”

He’d been nervous though. That much you did recall. By the time he’d come to you that night, your old friend had been well beyond spooked.

“Did he give you his reason for leaving?”

“We didn’t…” You trail off, taking a moment to scrub at a particularly stubborn sticky spot that’s marring the wood. “There wasn’t really much time for talking.” You’re so concerned with scrubbing that you miss the way the county hunter’s eyes narrow as he studies you. “He just stopped over to say goodbye.”

And to borrow all the cash you happened to have on hand – to the tune of $500. Enough for a bus ticket and a couple nights in a dirt cheap motel.

“Right.” Ari scoffs, admittedly with a bit more heat than he intends. “Not a lot of time for talking.” He pauses briefly to drag a hand through his shaggy brown locks. “Not sure why I didn’t wanna believe them.”

“Am I sensing a problem, Mr. Levinson?” You hum, tossing your rag to the side in favor of focusing on the rugs.

“I guess I’m just having a hard time believing you when you say he kept you in the dark about his plans.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “In my experience, most men like Martin tend to have loose lips around the women they’re fuckin’.”

In that moment, it’s almost as if you can feel the air go out of the room. Just who the fuck did this knuckle-dragging, mouth-breather think he was?

“Excuse me?” Those two little words are spoken through clenched teeth. You’re so taken aback by his brazen accusation that you can scarcely breathe, let alone think.

Ari simply quirks a tawny brow at you, seemingly unaware of the danger he’s just placed himself in. Did he not see how close your hand was to that damned stapler? While it was clear that folks in this town had been running their mouths, they’d apparently neglected to mention that you’d also been the star pitcher for your high school softball team.

“Apologies if I offended your delicate sensibilities, Duchess. But I’ve never been the type to beat around the bush. Besides…” The smug bastard tucks his pen behind his ear. “You have to know that people in this town like to talk.”

Fire simmers hot in your belly, as you come out from behind the register. It takes less than ten seconds for you to bridge the distance between yourself and the cocky lawman. While you might’ve been taught never to raise a hand against anyone, this man was sorely testing every last bit of your patience.

“I want to make one thing very, very clear.” You hiss once you’re finally standing toe-to-toe with the handsome interloper who, of course, makes no room to get up himself. “I have never – not even once – slept with Martin Westbrook. He’s a friend, you backwoods jackass. Something you clearly know nothing about.”

“I get the feeling I struck a nerve.”

And, judging by the newfound tick in his jaw, so had you. Except you had no way of knowing it was because he’d lost a buddy of his own a little while back.

“And I think it’s about time you got the hell out of my shop.” His piercing blue eyes fly to yours, letting you know that you’d managed to surprise him with your heated dismissal.

Good. Because this Ari Levinson fella had officially overstayed his welcome.

“Look, Duchess. I apolo –”

“That’s the second time you’ve called me out of my name, Mr. Levinson. And I’m not sure I appreciate it.” You spit as you take a step backwards with the intention of giving him enough space to stand. “Now, I’ve been nothing but amenable to your rather…invasive questions. But we’re done. So, I’m gonna have to insist that you leave.”

Before you decided he’d make a deserving candidate for death by a thousand paper cuts.

Your pulse continues to thrum in your ears as you watch him rise to his full height – an impressive 6’4 – so that he now towers over you. Perhaps if you weren’t so angry you’d be a little more tempted to allow your mind to wander a little farther into the realm of fantasy.

But not now.

Right now, in this moment, all you wanted was to watch Ari Levinson’s sculpted ass walk right out your front door.

Nodding, the now quiet bounty hunter begins moving in the direction of the entrance. Neither of you say a word as you make that quick walk. In fact, you don’t speak until Ari’s hand is on the handle.

“This…” He blows out a weary breath. “This wasn’t how I meant for this to go.” His eyes find yours, as if imploring you to see the truth in them.

However, instead of responding all you can do is offer up a shrug. Which he, of course, takes as an opportunity to keep going.

“It’s just…the idea of someone like you getting caught up with a piece of slime like Westbrook…” He pauses long enough to open the door and take a tentative step outside. “I guess it bothered me more than I realized.”

His reluctant admission has your stomach tied up in knots, which prompts you to ask the one question you were almost certain you’d regret later:

“And just what do you mean by that?” You do your best to seem unruffled as you awkwardly brace yourself against the doorframe.

“All I’m saying is that you’re out of his league.” Feeling even more confused, you watch as Ari’s lips curve in a faint smile. “And if you didn’t know that before, well, now you do.” His head dips politely as he turns to head towards his truck.

“Guess I’ll see you around, Duchess.” You don’t have to see his face to know that he’s grinning. “Oh, and don’t forget to lock up. Might help with those unwanted visitors you’ve been havin.”

Ari doesn't need to turn his head to know that you're standing there flipping them off. He can feel it. And all it does it make him smile harder.

END

Sweet Renegade Series Tag List

@katymae12344

@identity2212

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@blackhawkfanatic

@jamneuromain

@queerqueenlynn

@pono-pura-vida

@daykrisr999

@jamneuromain

@ninacutebee16

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@emerald-writes

#fic rec #currently reading

213 notes · View notes

bluemoon-fever · 3 days

Text

the girl next door 5

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

This lewk but silverfox

As your mother waits in her chair, watching the window, dolled up in her nicest skirt, with her hair pressed and her eyes lined, you follow the directions on the containers of the premade grocer meals. Roast the potatoes, veggies too, and heat up the chicken. It’s very easy, even for you.

You set the table as the oven warms up and put out the nice plates you never touch. You fold napkins under the cutlery like you’ve seen on television and in restaurants, not that you ever go anywhere by the drive thru. It looks nice. Sort of.

You hear the recliner creak and your mother get up. The doorbell rings and you jump. You rush into the entry way as your mother looms in the front archway. You look at her and she sends back and expression with deadly venom. You go to the door and steady yourself, slowly turning the latch.

You pull it open and muster a smile which must appear closer to a cringe, “hello, uh, hi.”

“Hello,” Steve smiles, a bouquet of sunflowers in his hands. “How are you?”

“Mm, good,” you mumble.

“Great, I brought you ladies some flowers,” he looks between you and your mother as she steps into the hallway. “Something to brighten up the place.”

“Oh my, thank you, Steve,” your mother rushes forward, her left foot thumping a bit heavier than the other, “that is so sweet of you.”

As she snatches the bouquet, a petal flies loose from her tremor. She brings them to her nose, nearly crushing them into her face as her cheek quivers. She’s overexcited and her symptoms more obvious. You step aside as she beckons in your guest.

“You two look nice,” Steve comments as she stops to remove his shoes. His hair is combed tidy back and he wears an oceanic button-up with khakis. He is indiscernible from any other suburban dweller.

“Thank you,” your mother preens and you echo her softly. “Please, come in. I think dinner’s almost ready.”

She glances at you and you nod, “yes, uh, I’ll... go do that.”

You feel Steve watching you. You shrink down and cross your arm over your middle and back away. You turn and shuffle down to the kitchen. You feel how the skirt and sweater let in the breeze around your thighs and reach to tug the hem.

“Grab a vase for the flowers too, honey.”

You let her words trail after you. Honey. The epithet isn’t dripping in her usual poison. You go and open the stove, letting out the aroma of seasoning. It should be almost there.

You search under the sink and find an old mint green vase. You wash it out and fill it with cool water. You bring it out to the dining room and set it on the table. You can hear your mother and Steve in the next room.

She shoves the flowers at you before you can say a word. You take them as she keeps her attention on your guest.

“How’s the house coming along?” She asks in a singsong, “you’ve been doing so much work, I’m surprised you could make the time for us.”

“Of course. Nice to have a few friendly faces around. Not gonna lie though, I do have fridge full of casseroles already.”

You go back to place the stems in the vase. You linger there, safely away from their conversation. You have nothing to add anyway. You’re best to keep an eye on the food.

“Ugh, really? Let me warn you about this place, those bleach blondes aren’t as chipper as they put on,” your mother sneers as you wait for the gravy to simmer.

You don’t think the people around the neighbourhood are bad. They’re just different. Besides, you can’t blame them for their judgment. You might feel the same if you were like them. If you were pretty and perfect and rich.

You hover by the stove and stop the timer before it can buzz. You take out each pan and transfer the contents to thick porcelain serving dishes. You bring them to the table, one at a time.

“Mom, er, Steve?” You peer into the front room, “dinner is ready.”

“Oh, finally, I’m starving,” your mom sighs.

“Smells good. What are we having?” Steve gestures your mom ahead of him, waiting patiently as she moves stiffly. You can see the struggle in the stitch between the brows as how she stops herself from bracing her hip. She’s embarrassed.

“Roast chicken, potatoes, and grilled broccoli,” you explain, watching awkwardly as he pulls out the chair for your mom.

Your mom sits and Steve tucks the chair in. He surprises you as he rounds the table towards you and slides out another chair. You stare at him and your lips part.

“The gravy,” you squeak.

You quickly retreat to the kitchen. You pour the gravy into the spouted dish and balance it by the handle. You carry it carefully through the door and trip on the slightly crooked divider on the floor. The contents slosh and a splatter lands on your white sweater.

You frown and put the grave dish on the table. Steve lingers as he was. You look down at your sweater and he reaches for one of the spare napkins, holding it out to you. You thank him and sit, letting him push the chair in under you. You dab at your sweater but the brown stains remain.

As he sits, just by your mother, she was sure to sit where she would be next to him, you put the crumpled napkin by your plate. Your mother arches her brow at the front of your sweater. You raise your shoulders and give an apologetic look as you slip the cardigan off. You untangle your arms from the fabric and let it droop to the seat.

Steve smiles at you again. Your face is on fire, your chest too. The dress really doesn’t fit right.

“You made all this?” He asks.

“Heh, she bought it and put it in the oven,” your mom tuts. “She’s not the most gifted cook and... and my hands aren’t steady enough for that anymore.”

“Ah, well, food is food,” he shrugs, “regardless, it looks delicious.” He reaches for the plates of chicken and catches the tongs before the can fall, “may I?”

Your mother’s lips curl and she nods, “by all means.”

He puts a piece on her plate, then his own. He sets it back before he grabs the bowl of potatoes and scoops up a heap besides the marinated breast. Finally, he shovels on the broccoli.

You meekly fill your own plate, though you leave it sparse. Just a piece of chicken, a tiny bit of potatoes, and some broccoli. Your stomach is uneasy. You’re not used to company. You poke around with your fork.

“You know, Holly, I finally got all the furniture where I want it but I don’t know,” Steve begins, cutting into his chicken, “I think it needs something... a woman’s touch, maybe?”

“Mmm,” your mother nods and squints.

“I wouldn’t mind picking your brain. Maybe you have some suggestions. I got all these paintings but not really sure where to put them, you know?”

“Right,” she put a sliced potato in her mouth and chews thoughtfully. She swallows and takes her napkin, shakingly blotting around her coloured lips, “well, suppose I could give you a few tips.”

“Really?” He asks, “that would be amazing.”

“Not a problem at all,” she grins, “I could drop by tomorrow.”

“Yeah, that will be nice,” he agrees.

You sit quietly, keeping your face blank. You won’t mention how your mother complained when you tried to hang some of your drawings just in your same room. She always said art was a waste of time. No, you’ll say nothing. You’re better off that way.

“And uh, you’re welcome too,” Steve offers across the table and your eyes flick up to meet his, “if you want. Don’t want to leave you out.”

You glance at your mother. Her eyes narrow and you gulp, nearly choking on the potatoes. You take a breath and push your shoulders up, “actually, I was planning on... uh, I’m busy.”

You can’t even come up with a lie. Not a solid one. Just busy. Busy being alone. Busy hiding.

“Ah, that’s too bad. Well, how about once I get the barbecue fired up, you both come over for a cookout?”

“Lovely,” your mother chimes. “But tomorrow, I’ll swing by,” she squeezes her fork as it tings against the plate. Her tremor is getting bad. “Be nice to get out.”

#currently reading #fic rec

164 notes · View notes

bluemoon-fever · 15 days

Text

I love this one too!!! I absolutely love your work. ❤️

What's Eating You, Mr. Barber?

Summary: You decide to test your man's patience with a prank you saw on TikTok. CLICK HERE to check out Ari Levinson's reaction to the same prompt.

Warnings: Mature Themes, References to Smut, Andrew Barber Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, TikTok Hijinks, Bickering, Manhandling, Ass Slapping, Daddy Kink, Allusions to Oral Sex, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Prompt brought to you courtesy of a Reader Request. This fic features Andrew Barber from my Growing Pains Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

It’s hard for you to put into words just how much you love playing pranks on your unsuspecting husband. And after downloading TikTok, you’d discovered that the app was home to an online treasure trove of practical jokes designed to make your loved one’s head spin. While it had taken a few days for you to settle on the right prank, you were pretty confident that the one you’d chosen would earn you a fun reaction from Andy without you having to risk your ass in the process.

You find yourself grinning as you take your time prepping dinner, humming a little tune as you peel and press even more fresh garlic for your homemade tomato sauce. Tonight’s family dinner of spaghetti and meatballs promised to be very interesting. Which was why you’d also taken the liberty of setting up two hidden cameras – one in the dining room and one right here in your kitchen.

As of now, you had no plans to post this on your channel. But you also didn’t want to miss a minute of your man’s reaction. Until then all you had to do was play it cool for a couple more hours.

Later that Evening…

“Baby Girl, are you sure you don’t need any help?” Your husband asks after watching you make what easily had to be your third trip from the kitchen into the dining room.

Any other night you would’ve said yes, but not this one. Tonight you were flying solo. The cameras were already on and recording – you’d taken care of that before you’d started setting the table – and so far Andy hadn’t noticed a thing.

Hopefully you’d be able to keep it that way until it was time for the big reveal.

“No thanks, Big Man. This Mama only has to make one more trip and then we’ll be ready to eat.” You tell him before sitting two plates on the table in front of your two youngest children. You were down a kid tonight thanks to your oldest, Bianca, being away at a sleepover.

Andy nods before leaning over to adjust the small hand towel you’d previously tucked into the front of your three-year-old son’s t-shirt. Not that it really mattered all that much since you were positive he’d be swimming in sauce before the meal was over. But what kind of mother would you be if you didn’t at least try?

Biting your lip in anticipation, you scamper back into the kitchen to grab dinner for you and your husband. Andy’s plate was piled high with a generous serving of spaghetti and meatballs. Meanwhile, you give yourself hardly any.

And therein was the so-called prank. Earlier this week, you’d spent the better part of several hours gleefully watching as dozens of girlfriends and wives proceeded to serve their man impressive looking portions before sitting next to them with virtually empty plates for themselves. Many of the reactions had ranged from hilarious to heartwarming, with only a few dickish exceptions.

Glancing over your shoulder to ensure you weren’t being watched, you pick up various pans and quietly place them in your oven and out of sight. For this to actually work, Andy would have to believe that there wasn’t enough for seconds or leftovers. Once that’s done, you square your shoulders and confidently march back into the dining room with dishes in hand.

“I’m back.” You announce, placing a piping hot plate in front of Andy before taking your own seat at the table. “I tried something different with my sauce this time, so everybody dig in and tell me what you think.”

Andy absentmindedly rubs his palms together as he stares down at the fragrant heap of spaghetti before him. Silently, you will him to look over at what you’d served yourself, but you force yourself to remain quiet so as not to give yourself away.

“This smells amazing, sweetheart.” Your husband tells you, reaching for a piece of garlic bread. “I’ve been excited for this meal since you told me you texted me at 10:00am.”

“Glad to hear it, Daddy” You pick up the little bowl of parmesan you’d set out and hand it to your middle daughter, Katrina. “What does everybody else think?”

You take a brief glance around the table while you wait for feedback. And although you make a point of not looking at your husband, it’s impossible to miss the way he’s now staring at your nearly empty plate.

“Ooh.” You inwardly squeal, stopping just short of clapping your hands. “It’s starting!”

“What’s up with this?” His tone is rife with confusion, which only grows when you decide to ignore him in favor of dipping a small piece of bread into some sauce. “Hey – stop!”

“What?” When you finally deign to return his gaze. You have to choke back a laugh as you watch a bewildered Andy comically gesture between your two plates.

“What the fu–fudge,” he swiftly corrects, “is going on with your plate?”

“What do you mean?” You aim to keep your tone light and breezy.

Your husband lets out a frustrated sigh. “Where’s the rest of your food?” He jabs at your plate with his fork, holding up the half of a meatball you’d allowed yourself.

“This was all that was left.” You tell him with a shrug.

“What the hell are you talking about?” His confusion continues to mount even as pauses long enough to grab a napkin to wipe at his son’s increasingly messy fingers. “There was plenty of spaghetti left on the stove.” While he’s occupied you quickly check on little Rory, who appears to be faring slightly better.

“Not really.”

“Baby…” Andy pins you with a knowing look, one that you readily return.

“What? I…” You trail off, pretending to think. “After I realized BiBi wouldn’t be here tonight, I made some adjustments to the recipe. Turns out I didn’t make enough, so…” Another shrug. “This was all there was after I made everyone else’s plates.”

Andy is uncharacteristically quiet as leans back in his chair. Meanwhile, your children are busy staring at you, each of them sporting tiny, furrowed brows. Pursing your lips, you set your fork down on your plate and reach for your drink.

“You can have some of mine, Mama.” KitCat offers before sweetly pushing her plate towards you. The unexpected gesture touches your heart in more ways than one. Not to be outdone, your three-year-old twins also follow suit.

“That’s okay, babies. I’m perfectly fine.” You reassure them, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Besides, this is all I need and –”

“Thanks kiddos.” Your husband kindly interrupts as he places his napkin on the table. “That was very sweet of you, wanting to take care of your Mama like that.” His brilliant blue eyes beam with pride as he speaks. “But Daddy’s got this one.”

You’re momentarily taken aback when he stands, picking up his plate as he does. And you’re even more surprised when he motions for you to do the same.

“Can I see you in the kitchen for a moment?”

“Andrew, sweetheart, it’s okay. I promise.”

“Now, please.” It’s an order, that much you know. But at least your handsome ogre has enough sense to take on the word “please” at the end of it.

“Fine.” You huff before standing and following him out of the room, although not before encouraging your children to keep eating while you’re gone. Just because it was Friday doesn’t mean it was time to dispense their normal bedtime routines.

You were only playing a prank, not embracing total anarchy.

Once in the kitchen, you each take up residence in opposing corners. But of course, you’re careful enough to avoid blocking the view of the camera.

“Baby Girl.” Andy exhales, his fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Do you really mean to tell me that there’s no food left? You really made all that pasta and there’s nothing?”

“Yes, Andrew.” You lie without missing a beat. “I already told you. I trimmed down the recipe because –”

“Because Bianca is gone. Yes, I heard you.” He sets his dish down on the counter, openly scrutinizing it.

“So then what’s the problem?” You rest your back against your pantry while you wait for him to respond.

“The problem – my problem –” Andy is quick to amend, shaking his head. “– is that you expect me to sit back and watch you starve while everyone else eats. And I don’t like it.” He scrubs a weary hand over his beard. “Hand me your plate, beautiful.”

“Why?” It’s impossible to keep the suspicion out of your voice.

“Because I don’t need all of this.” He grunts, taking the plate out of your hands when you don’t comply fast enough. “In fact, I don’t need any of it. You eat and I’ll order myself a pizza after we put the kids down.”

“Andy!” You scoff, which comes out on the heels of a laugh.

“What?” The man is clearly confused by your dismissal of his offer. “I am capable of handling myself, okay? My hands work just fine.” He grates out, making a show of holding up a large, lightly calloused palm.

“But I…I made that plate for you.” You were seconds away from caving and you both knew it.

“And I’m telling you, my wonderful wife, that I want you to have it.”

“Oh, you really don’t have to –” You begin, wrapping your arms around yourself. It was time to fess up.

“Fine.” Andy breathes, taking a second to roll his broad shoulders. “Then we’ll split it.” He reaches for your hand, pulling you into his warm embrace so that he can whisper in your ear. “And then, after we put the kids down, we’ll order ourselves a pizza. Maybe open up a bottle of wine while we wait.”

“Yeah?” You murmur, relaxing as you bury your face in his chest.

God, he always smelled so good.

“Mhm.” He continues, nuzzling his nose against your curls. “And then, once we’re all giggly and buzzed, I’ll convince you to let me make love to you in front of the fireplace. We can even set up a booby trap so that we pretend like the children don’t exist.”

“Wow.” You can’t stop the giggle that bubbles its way past your lps. “Andy Bear, that sounds amazing. But I’m afraid I can’t.”

“Why the fuck not?” He rumbles as his brawny arms tighten around your smaller frame. You were pushing your District Attorney beyond his breaking point.

“Because.” Squirming out of his hold, you dance your way towards the oven in preparation for the big reveal. Hopefully your husband would be a good sport about all of this.

“Because?”

“Because…” You draw out the word, even as you go to open the oven to show him what’s inside. “There’s actually plenty of dinner leftover. See?” You throw your arms wide, but force yourself to stop just short of adding spirit fingers because you suspected he wouldn’t appreciate it.

“Baby, I swear…” Andy sighs, his hands slowly sinking into the pockets of his charcoal-colored slacks as he rocks back on his heels. Most likely to keep himself from strangling you, his lovely wife. “Why–what would possess you to lie about something like this?”

“First off, sweetheart, it’s called a prank.” You bridge the gap between your bodies so that you can wrap your arms around his trim waist. “And secondly, I saw it on TikTok. Ever heard of it?”

He glares down at you, which has you instinctively clenching your thighs together. That’s part of the reason you loved riling up your Big Man.

Being a brat got your motor running.

“I take it you have.” You stand on your tiptoes to kiss away his frown. “Well, I fell down the rabbit hole the other day while the kids were napping. There’s this whole, like, subsection that’s just pranks. And the latest one involved these women pranking their guys by serving them a huge plate of food, and then pretending like there’s nothing left for them to eat. The reactions were super entertaining, so I figured I’d test it out, you know? Just for fun.”

You grace him with your most dazzling smile, but unfortunately, he’s still having none of it. His frown only deepens as he tilts his face up towards the ceiling in an effort to summon all of his remaining patience.

“Are you mad?” Your teeth sink into your bottom lip while you wait for his answer.

“Yep.”

“C’mon, Andy Bear!” You pout before placing your hands on his biceps to give him a light shake.”Where’s your sense of humor?”

“Pretty sure I lost it the day you decided torturing me was your new favorite pastime.” He grumbles, although there doesn’t appear to be any heat in his words. “In fact, I have a feeling you just gave me several new grays.”

“Oh, don’t you dare blame me for those.” You tell him, playfully rolling your eyes at his dramatics. “I’ll have you know that you came home with those. I spotted ‘em the moment you walked through the door.” Your sassy response earns you a sharp crack to your ass, making you wince.

“Ow!”

“Brat.” He grouses, even as he presses a sweet kiss to your nose.

“Guilty as charged.” You hum, weaving your arms around his neck. “Besides, I had a feeling you wouldn’t let me starve.”

“Not sure it’s even possible to fail that challenge, Baby Girl. I mean, you’re my wife. My partner in crime. Did you really expect me to just let you go hungry?”

“You’d be surprised.” You mutter, making a mental note to show him a few videos featuring some of the men who’d actually failed the test. “But thankfully you didn’t. And neither did the kiddos. Which is why I will graciously allow you all to sleep inside tonight.”

You let out a tiny yelp when Andy suddenly grabs your ass with both hands, squeezing hard as he lifts you up. Unsure of what else to do, you immediately lock your legs around his waist. Right now you were just going along for the ride.

“Now is that any way to talk to Daddy?” Andy lovingly captures your mouth, lightly stroking his along the seam of your lips. “Especially after you played such a mean trick?” His once clouded blue eyes are now filled with mischief.

“Oh, I’m not sorry. But if it helps, I am willing to delete the video.” Your husband’s eyes go wide, letting you know that he hadn’t even considered the prospect of being recorded. So you keep talking, hoping to distract him. “And I still wanna get you drunk and take advantage of you after we put the children down for the night.” You run your fingers through his neatly coiffed hair, lightly scratching at his scalp with your nail.

“I don’t know if I should trust you.” He eyes you warily, making clear that he still hasn’t quite recovered from your earlier betrayal.

“What if…” You lean in close, lightly nipping at his earlobe. “I could find it in my heart to apologize between then and now? How does that sound, Big Man?”

“I mean I might be interested.” Andy shrugs, gently setting you on the counter before bracing his muscled arms on either side of you. “Out of curiosity, just what kind of apology are we talking about?” He gazes at you with lust-filled eyes, eagerly anticipating your response.

“The kind that’s best offered while on my knees, wearing nothing but a flimsy pair of thigh highs and garters.” You know you’ve got him when you hear him groan low in his throat.

“Fucky, baby.” Your husband hisses, burying his face in the valley between your breasts as his imagination suddenly kicks into overdrive. “Can you be sorry enough to wear the heels too? You know the ones I’m talking about.”

Oh. You knew exactly which ones he was talking about.

“I think so.” You murmur, stroking a tender hand along his back as he struggles to regain his composure.

“Then we’ve got ourselves a deal.” He grips your hips before kindly helping you down. “Now let’s go get those kids fed and off to bed.” Andy grabs your hand, tugging you behind him as you head back to the dining room to see about your babies.

“Slow down, Andrew.” You laugh as your legs scramble to keep up.

“No can do, Baby Girl.” He grunts, picking up his pace. “Daddy’s really looking forward to that apology. So be sure to eat up because…” He trails off when he comes face-to-face with his sauce covered little ones. “...You’re gonna need all of your strength.”

“You can count on it.”

END

#fic rec #currently reading

310 notes · View notes

bluemoon-fever · 15 days

Note

Hahah I love it!!! Poor Ari… I know this isn’t the last of Bird’s pranks.

There is a trend on some social media where the wife/Gf gives her man a full plate and only her self a little saying that is all that was left. How would Andy and Ari act in that situation?

What's Eating You, Mr. Levinson?

Summary: You decide to test your man's patience with a prank you saw on TikTok. CLICK HERE to read Andrew Barber's reaction to the same prompt.

Warnings: Mature Themes, References to Smut, Ari Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, TikTok Hijinks, Brief Mention of Calorie Counting, Bickering, Manhandling, Threats of Spanking/Punishment, Discussion of a Sex Tape, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Prompt brought to you courtesy of a Reader Request. This fic features Ari Levinson from my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

You weren’t quite sure what possessed you to do this. If anybody asked, you would claim temporary insanity. But right now you were about to get up to some mischief.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” You mutter under your breath as you adjust the position of the camera you hid tucked away behind a plant. Pleased with the angle, you make a mental note to revisit the world of Harry Potter sooner rather than later.

It was officially time for a reread.

Tonight you were gonna play a little joke on your bounty hunter boyfriend. One that you’d come across the other day after accidentally straying from the wonderful world of BookTok. You just hoped he would find it as amusing as you did. In fact, you were certain that he would.

Eventually.

Hands on your hips, you do an about-face and traipse back into the kitchen to get started on dinner. On tonight’s menu was a Tuscan pork roast, complete with red wine mushrooms and Haricots Verts – also known as French Green Beans. And for dessert, you’d decided to whip up your man’s favorite: key lime pie

So, even if he got pissed at you later, you were confident you had something that would soothe his ruffled feathers.

Fingers crossed.

Later that Evening…

The heady thrum of excitement hits you the moment you hear the open and shut of your front door. Having anticipated his arrival, you’d even thrown on a new dress and cued up a little music. While it wasn’t your usual style, you knew without a doubt that Ari would appreciate your efforts.

“Bird?”

The sound of your nickname has a smile forming on your lips before you even realize it. Smoothing your hands over your skirt, you make your way towards your mudroom, eager to greet your handsome bounty hunter.

His eyes light up the moment he sees you. He stands there for a moment, drinking in the sight you clad in your new black dress and wedge heels.

“Well, get a look at you.” He breathes, allowing his bag to drop at his feet next to his forgotten boots.

“You like?” Biting your lip, you give into temptation and do a little spin.

Confidence blooms when you hear his appreciative whistle. But that’s nowhere near enough for your man. Because now that you’d gone and given him a show, he wanted more.

“Oh baby, I love.”

Pulling you into his arms, his mouth quickly descends upon your own. His tongue wastes no time finding yours, exploring every inch, every corner of your mouth. He lets you know without words that he’s so unbelievably happy to be home holding you like this.

You cling to him, your hands roving beneath the soft fabric of his t-shirt to run along the sculpted plane of his back. When he finally lets you up for air it’s so he can nuzzle his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet, unique scent.

“You’re beautiful.” He rasps, pecking your lips once more, his large hands come up to frame your face. “So beautiful. Can’t wait to take this dress off you later, see what you might be hiding underneath.”

“All in good time, Beast.” Your lashes flutter closed as you lean into his touch. “All in good time.”

“What if I don’t wanna wait?” His husky growl rumbles from somewhere deep in his chest as he fiddles the material of your skirt.

“Well, you’re gonna.” Comes your cheeky response. “So go on and wash up for supper. We’re having something yummy.” You bat as his hands, intending to shoo him up the stairs.

The look that flashes across your man’s face makes it clear that he’d much rather have you for dinner instead. He boxes you in, slowly crowding you with his much larger frame as he backs you against a nearby wall.

However, you refuse to let yourself be swayed.

“I mean it, mister.” You repeat, poking him in the chest. “Now, be a good boy and go wash up.” Ari’s eyes darken at your words. His head dips without warning as he bites your finger, sucking the digit into his mouth, making you gasp.

“Alright, Duchess. Have it your way.” He growls once he finally deigns to release you. “You’d best be ready for me when I get back.” With that, he gives you his back as he strides off in the direction of the stairs.

“I ain’t scared of you.” You tell his retreating form, waiting until you hear his heavy footfalls sounding on the floor above you. Only then do you move, intending to finish setting up for dinner.

‘Alright, sugar.’ You think, taking a second to fluff your curls. ‘Time to earn yourself an Oscar.’

Fifteen Minutes Later…

You’ve just finished hiding away what’s left of your meal when you hear Ari make his way into your tiny dining room.

“Have a seat, Beast!” You call out, hoping that the act you were about to put on was at least mildly convincing. “I–I’ll be right in.”

Blowing out a breath you snag your bounty hunter’s plate, along with a glass of wine, and head into the next room. Although he admittedly wasn’t much of a wine drinker before he met you, he tended to enjoy whatever selection you paired with your meal.

Tonight you’d picked a lovely pinot noir.

This time when you see him, you’re treated to the sight of a freshly showered Ari lazily sprawled in one of your slightly too small chairs. His still damp hair is pushed back off his face as he waits for you, patiently biding his time while he plans his next move.

Or so you assumed, anyway.

“Here you are.” You sing as you approach. “Tonight I bring you an expertly roasted Tuscan pork loin, complete with a garlic and mushroom risotto and french-style green beans.”

“Smells good, baby.” He absentmindedly scratches at his jaw while he surveys the mountain of food on his plate.

“Hopefully it tastes good too.” You lean down to press a quick kiss against his temple. “I’ll, uh, be right back with mine.” The handsome brute smacks your ass when you turn to depart, making you yip.

“Hurry back.” He grunts, letting out a chuckle when he sees you trying to rub the sting out of your butt.

Seconds later you return with your food before quietly taking a seat at the table, all the while refusing to make eye contact. Picking up your napkin, you make a show of draping it across your knee, and then…

You wait.

It doesn’t take long for Ari to notice the differences between your respective plates, and it takes even less time for him to speak on it – much to your internal satisfaction.

“What the–?” Ari pushes his plate aside so that he can get a better look at your virtually empty one. “Where the hell’s the rest of your food, baby?” His deep voice comes out deceptively soft.

“Huh?” You cast him a sheepish glance, feigning embarrassment. “Oh this? It’s fine.”

“That’s not what I asked, Bird.” The quiet steel in his voice is impossible to miss.

“I know it wasn’t. But this was all that was left, so…” You trail off, averting your gaze in favor of using your fork to push food around your plate. “It’s fine.”

“There’s that damn word again.” You hear him grumble under his breath, his nostrils flaring in frustration. “I got news for you, Bird. It ain’t fine.” He grouses, reaching for you even as you shift away.

“But it is.” You sing, daintily fanning yourself with a napkin.

“No it isn’t.” He sings right back, clearly not understanding your game. Which was a good thing. It meant that you two could play a little longer.

“Look, if this is about you feeling like you need to start counting calories again…” Ari goes to rest his elbows on the table, his own meal all but forgotten. “Then please believe me when I tell you that you look phenomenal. And not just tonight, baby. I mean every night.”

You feel your cheeks heat as your body responds to his praise. That familiar warmth soon spreads, pooling in your belly while you mentally preen at his words.

“Thank you, Ari.”

“Oh don’t thank me, sweet girl.” His already husky voice dips another octave. “I just want you to eat.” You stifle a small shiver when the roughened pads of his fingertips lightly graze over your hand. “Now, do me a kindness and take your pretty little self back into that kitchen and fix yourself a proper plate.”

And there it was. He thought you were lying about there not being any leftovers. He was right, of course. Just not the way he thought he was.

“I would if I could, sugar.” You stretch out your legs beneath the table as you prepare to really sell the narrative. “Honest. But there really isn’t anything left. I…accidentally only bought one pork loin instead of two. And then I misjudged the recipe for the risotto, but that was most likely on account of the fact that I was in my feelings about the state of Herb & Twine’s green beans selection. It wasn’t very good.”

Ari doesn’t tell you this, but he’s actually impressed by your ability to speak that fast without so much as taking a breath. Instead all you receive is a gruff “uh huh” for your trouble.

“So,” You forge on, now fully committed to the bit. “I salvaged what I could out of the meal I planned and then gave most of it to you.”

“Why?”

Boy, he did not look happy. Which was great news for you

“Because…” You draw out the word, wincing when you belatedly notice the sudden tick in his jaw. “I just…felt like you shouldn’t have to suffer for my mistakes.”

“Oh.” He hums, pursing his lips as he mulls over your story. “Well, I reckon we’ll just have to fix that.”

Unsure of what he means, you open your mouth to keep talking, only to let out a shriek when Ari suddenly reaches over to grip the back of your chair to drag you, and it, over closer to him.

“Christ, Beast!” Your hand flies to your still-heaving chest as you will your heartbeat to calm down.

But your man’s not done yet.

You scarcely have time to catch your breath before you’re hauled into his lap. Immediately your arms go to weave themselves around his neck to keep you from falling. Not that Ari would’ve ever allowed that to happen.

Seemingly unbothered by your rather dramatic response, Ari seeks to balance you on top of his muscled thighs as he leans over again to retrieve your plate. You watch in confusion as he unceremoniously dumps the contents onto his own dish before setting yours aside once more.

“Hate to break it to you, Duchess.” He seamlessly adjusts your positions so that he can grasp his knife and fork. “But I don’t need all this food. So it looks like we’ll just have to share.”

Momentarily stunned by this turn of events you can only nod as he feeds you a tender bite of pork. It takes a moment for you to find your voice, but when you finally do, it’s to utter two simple words.

“Ari, wait.”

“‘Fraid I’m not really in the mood to wait.” Your impatient bounty hunter warns. But he does pause his efforts, his fork hovering mere centimeters from your mouth. “You’re nuts if you think I’m the kinda man who would even consider stuffing himself while his lady sits by and starves.”

“I know.” You assure him before rearranging your body so that you’re facing him, your thighs now straddling his hips. “And I think that’s awfully sweet.”

“Great. So how about you –”

“But since this is a prank…” The grin you’re sporting threatens to split your face in two. “It looks like you get to keep your food.”

Ari blinks back at you, his mouth briefly opening and closing in a way that very much reminds you of a fish. You feel positively giddy as you press your hands on either side of his bearded face so you can plant a kiss on his full lips while he tries, and fails, to make sense of what you just said.

“Run that by me one more time.” His quiet snarl is enough to have you soaking your panties.

“I saw this thing on TikTok, where these women all decided to prank their boyfriends by serving them this big ol’ plate of food, while pretending to give themselves only a little bit and claiming that was all that was leftover. They filmed their reactions and posted ‘em for everyone else to see.”

“What the hell is a fuckin’ TikTok?”

“It’s this app where you…” You pause as you try to find the right words. “Where people can, um–”

“Post dumb shit?” He quirks a tawny brow as he tries to remain serious, even though you’re also pretty sure that you just saw his lips twitch. “Come up with new and inventive ways to torture the men that love them?”

“I mean, that’s not all it is.” You take a moment to whisper kisses along his chiseled jaw. “But I guess that’s a pretty accurate description.”

“Hmph.” Your grumpy bounty hunter continues to glower at you, even as his large, warm hands move to settle on your hips. “And am I right to assume you’re recording this?”

“Maybe…” You giggle, not bothering to hide just how funny you found this all to be. “Oh – but I was never gonna post it. Promise.”

You hold up your pinky, trying your hardest to look solemn. But the look Ari gives you lets you know that he’s done falling for your act.

“I’m warning you, Duchess.” He grunts, lightly bouncing you on his lap. “I swear to God, if I catch myself on that fuckin’ tock clock…thing…you have my word that I’m gonna redden that ass.”

“I already told you I wasn’t gonna.” You reassure him once more, resting your forehead against his. “By the way, thanks for bein’ such a good sport about the whole thing.”

“No problem.” He flashes you a feral grin, revealing his pearly white teeth. It shoots straight to your core. “But the way I see it, you kinda owe me one. Don’t you?” He leans in close as his hands begin gently kneading your curves.

“Um…I don’t think–” You let out a soft whimper when he drags his nose along the delicate column of your throat.

“Oh, but I do.” He nips at your jaw.

“I suppose that’s fair.”

“Trust me, it is.” His sensual growl has you practically shivering with need. “Which is why you’re gonna show me where you hid that camera.” His lust-filled gaze drops to your cleavage as he openly begins undressing you with his eyes.

“Now hold on a minute, Beast –” You stammer once realization dawns.

“Aw, don’t fret.” Ari’s rueful chuckle lets you know that you will never win this battle. “You’ll have your turn to direct our little movie.” Ari suddenly stands without warning so that he can gently deposit you back in your own chair. “Especially now that I know how much you love performing for the camera.

Oh, the man had you there. Sometimes your Beast was a bit too cunning for your liking.

“I don’t think–” You try again, now feeling shy. “What we do in the dark has no business being on film!”

“Hm, guess we’ll just have to keep the lights on. But for now, let’s get you fed.” He drops a kiss on your head before picking up your empty dish and sauntering off towards the kitchen. “We’ll talk lighting and camera angles once you’re finished.”

Good Lord on high. What had you just gotten yourself into?

“Here we are.” Ari continues upon his return a few minutes later. He sets your down in front of you before taking your napkin and redraping it across your lap. “But I’d eat fast if I were you.”

“Um…why?” You ask, eyeing him warily.

“Because.” He winks at you before taking a seat and enthusiastically spearing a piece of meat onto his fork. “Tonight’s dress rehearsal starts in thirty minutes.”

END

Sweet Renegade Series Tag List

@katymae12344

@identity2212

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@blackhawkfanatic

@jamneuromain

@queerqueenlynn

@pono-pura-vida

@daykrisr999

@jamneuromain

@ninacutebee16

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555

#fic rec #currently reading

452 notes · View notes

bluemoon-fever · 16 days

Text

Captain Extra™

#s. rogers

4K notes · View notes

bluemoon-fever · 23 days

Text

Sugar Fix

Summary: Your poor attempt at a joke lands you in hot water with your man. Takes place directly after the events in Sweet Tooth and Sweet Tooth Deluxe.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Smut, Ari Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, Discussions of Poor Body Image, Arguing, Manhandling, Mentions of Punishment, Spanking, Pussy Spanking, Spanking, Oral Sex (fem rec), Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Written for @writer84. Part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

“God, that was good.” You lean back in your seat, lazily stretching your arms over your head. Your man smiles as he dutifully picks up your plate before briefly giving into temptation long enough to press a tender kiss against your lips.

“Mm.” Ari hums low in his throat as he repeats the action once more. “Glad you enjoyed it, baby. Still find it hard to believe that you’d never had chocolate chip pancakes before today.”

“Hey! You promised you wouldn’t make fun of me.” You pout, reaching out to swat his perfectly sculpted ass, which was now unfortunately hiding beneath a pair of black sweatpants. At least he’d forgotten to put on a shirt.

Mostly because you were wearing it.

“And I’m not.” Your man chuckles while adding your dishes to the growing pile in your sink. “I’d never do something so foolish. Especially since we only just made up.” He tosses a wink at you over his shoulder.

Yeah, and that was mostly your fault.

“I am really sorry about that.” You murmur, feeling a twinge of regret over having subjected your man to several days of the silent treatment. “I should’ve talked to you about that whole business with Charline.”

“Water under the bridge, baby.”

Resting your chin on your hand, you watch as your bounty hunter busies himself with filling the sink with hot water and dish soap. Some days it still floored you that you were seeing a man who didn’t put up a fuss about cooking. Or cleaning for that matter.

“I just meant that I’m in no hurry to have you toss me out on my ass again just yet.” He continues while sudsing up one of the new sponges you’d left laying on the counter. “That’s all I was saying, little Bird.”

“Well that wouldn’t be very hospitable of me, now would it?” You’re quick to counter, allowing your gaze to drop to your bare knees. “Seeing as you were kind enough to break into my home and cook me breakfast.”

“I had a key.” He snorts dismissively.

“Yeah, one that you stole!” You fire back, doing your best to hide your grin. “From me!”

“What the hell does any of that matter if you were already gonna–” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head before deciding to change tactics. “Look sweetheart, if you wanna argue about semantics can you at least wait until we’re both naked?”

“I guess so.” Comes your breezy reply as you fiddle with the hem of Ari’s t-shirt. Granted the fit was much too big for you, but it didn’t change the fact that you loved how wearing it made you feel. There really was something to be said for being surrounded by the heady scent of your man.

“Thank you.” Ari grunts before returning his attention to the stack of dishes in need of a good scrub. “Did you have enough to eat? Can’t have you wastin’ away on me.”

“Sure did.” You beam at him, content to sit back and enjoy the view. No man should be allowed to look that flippin’ sexy while doing simple household chores.

“Good.”

“To be honest, I didn’t even realize I was that hungry until I took that first bite. I suppose that’s what I get for not really eating…” You trail off when Ari turns toward you, his piercing blue eyes locking with yours. “...much over the last couple days.”

Your pulse speeds up as you watch your Bounty Hunter brace his still-wet hands on the edge of the counter. Which is when you belatedly realize that you probably should’ve kept that tidbit of information to yourself.

“Little Bird?”

“Yes, sugar?” You can’t help but wince at the way he says your name. Even still, you decide to stand up, hoping to distract him from the direction his thoughts were taking. “Want some help drying those plates? Because I don’t mind–”

“When was the last time you ate something?” He cocks his head to the side, almost like he’s studying you while he waits for your answer. “And before you get cute on me, baby, I’m talkin’ about before today.”

You can feel yourself physically wilt as you weigh your options. While you tended to believe that honesty was the best policy, sometimes being too honest had the tendency to get you in trouble with your man.

“I had some toast the other–”

“A full meal.” Ari swiftly interrupts, clearly not in the mood to mince words.

“Well, if you really must know…” Crossing your arms over your chest, you prepare to stand your ground. “I haven’t found myself with much of an appetite lately.” You sniff, ignoring the way his nostrils flare. “Probably on account of our tiff.”

Okay, now that was absolutely true. Because whether this man realized it or not, he had a knack for always making sure you ate at least one proper meal before the day’s end. With him out of the picture, you hadn’t really had any desire to eat.

Instead of responding, Ari turns to stare out the window, quietly sucking on his teeth as he does. You knew without asking that he was working to rein in his temper before he spoke again, lest he say the wrong thing and start another fight.

“C’mon Beast, it’s really not a big deal.” You shrug, biting your thumb as will him to cast a glance your way. “Besides, I’m pretty sure these hips could stand to miss a meal or two.”

While it was certainly a poor attempt at levity, you felt that one of you had to do something to lighten the mood. You startle when Ari suddenly throws down the sponge into the sink, sending water splashing everywhere.

You watch him slowly dry his hands with a nearby towel before tossing it aside in favor of bridging the distance between you. Good sense and the need for self-preservation has you backing up; however, you scarcely make it two steps before you feel your butt collide with your kitchen table. But your bounty hunter doesn’t stop moving until he’s standing directly in front of you.

“What was that?” He asks without an ounce of friendliness in his tone. In fact, his question comes out sounding more like a dare than anything else. “I reckon I’m a little hard of hearing these days.”

Later, you would kick yourself for taking the bait.

“Ahem.” Clearing your throat, you can’t help but notice the clench of his jaw. “I said that these hips – my hips – could probably stand to miss a meal.” You repeat, giving him your best prim and proper tone.

Sometimes the facts weren’t up for discussion.

Moving with a speed that belies his size, Ari manages to wrap one brawny arm around your waist before using his considerable strength to pin you face down against the kitchen table. Shocked by this sudden mistreatment, you open your mouth fully prepared to protest, only to snap it shut the moment you feel a cool breeze ghost across your bare backside.

“Try again, sweetheart.” The lawman grunts before delivering a hearty smack to your ass, eliciting a rather undignified screech from you. “Oh? I’m afraid I still didn’t quite catch that.”

“There’s no need to act like a brute!” You cry as you struggle against his impossible hold. “It’s not right for you to–ahh fuck!” You damn near lose it when his heavy palm connects with your traitorous cunt, the sound of the wet slap echoing throughout the room.

In that very moment, that sweet bite of pain had never felt so good.

“Ah, sweetness.” Ari coos, a hint of mocking laughter curling around his tone. “Could’ve sworn I’d fucked some sense into you earlier this morning. Are you tellin’ me my work still isn’t done?”

You think back to something he’d said when he was busy fucking you senseless. He’d said, or snarled as it were, that you needed a Sir or a Daddy to help keep you in line. At the time you’d assumed that he’d simply got caught up in the heat of the moment. But now…

Apparently it takes you too long to answer because his next smack has you rising on your toes. You clench your thighs together, desperate to ignore your body’s response. Although it does little to stop your man from wedging a proprietary hand between them anyway.

“Now is not the time to go quiet on me, little Bird.”

He gently cups your most intimate flesh before expertly parting your messy folds with his thick fingers. A soft cry escapes when he lightly pinches your swollen clit, making your hips buck.

Sweet Christ! You honestly had no idea just how much you actually enjoyed being manhandled until you crossed paths with this guy.

“All I was trying to do was answer your question!” You grit out, doing your best to ignore the filthy wet squelch of his palm colliding against your core once more, causing a fresh wave of arousal to dampen your thighs.

“And I didn’t much care for your answer.” Ari hums, taking a moment to lazily pet your now glistening cunt.

And who’s fault was that? Just because the man thought he owned the rights to your body didn’t give him the authority to…to…punish you like this. But when you inform him of that, the only response you get comes in the form of an annoying chuckle.

“I was joking, damn you – ooh!” You whine, stomping your foot for good measure – both of which manages to earn you another spank.

“But that’s just it, baby.” He rumbles, taking a break from further abusing your poor, overworked flesh. “Last I checked, jokes were supposed to be funny.” You press your face against the cool surface of the table as two sinful fingers playfully tease your entrance. “And talking shit about these curves ain’t funny, right?”

“Y-yes! I mean right.” In need of a little relief, you attempt to entice your man by wiggling your ass. But instead of doing as you bid, those same fingers soon find their way back to your swollen bundle of nerves, pinching just hard enough to get and hold your attention.

“Glad you think so.” He murmurs, leaning down to brush his lips along the sensitive shell of your ear as his free hand moves to rub soothing circles along your lower back. “And since I’ve finally got you in the mood to listen, how about we talk about something else?”

Instead of responding, you merely nod – giving him leave to get whatever the hell he wanted off of his perfectly sculpted chest.

“The next time you get the bright idea to shut me out without givin’ me a chance to plead my case, you had better do a damned good job respecting this gorgeous body while I’m on ice.” The air of danger in Ari’s husky purr has goosebumps rippling along your heated flesh. “Because if you don’t, I swear to God the moment you let me back in, I’m gonna do a lot more than spank this pretty pussy. You get me?”

Still unable to form words, you decide to let your body do the talking. Groaning low in your throat, you arch your hips and wiggle your ass, purposely grinding your cunt against his now drenched palm.

“Ah, sweetheart.” He rasps in approval, gently nipping your earlobe with his sharp teeth. “You get me. Yeah, you do.”

As a reward for your submission, Ari takes pity on you by slowly spearing his fingers inside your sopping wet core. Now it’s his turn to groan when he feels your velvety walls flutter around him, eagerly sucking him back in when he tries to pull out.

“Fuck if my girl ain’t got a greedy fucking pussy.” Your bounty hunter muses, more to himself than to you. “Are you sore? Need me to let you rest some more?”

In all reality, what he really wanted to do was splay you out on the table and kiss your puffy pussy lips until you were a sobbing, trembling mess. But he’d also settle for burying himself balls deep inside of you too.

Regardless of which one he chose, they both all but guaranteed that you’d remember this particular lesson for days to come. Because no one was allowed to talk shit about his beautiful Bird – not even you.

“Want you to fill me up again.” You tell him, meaning every word even as his expert touch threatens to rob you of breath. “Help me work up an appetite. Please, Sir.” You tack on the last bit, hoping that might be enough to tip your man over the edge.

Your now frantic pulse sings to new heights when you’re treated to the sound of Ari’s sweatpants hitting the floor behind you. Apparently he felt that you’d been punished long enough – something for which you were grateful.

You can’t help but whine when he finally removes his fingers, leaving your empty walls clenching around nothing but air. Anticipation fills you while you wait, expecting to feel the bulbous head of his cock glide its way through your slippery folds.

However, you’re surprised when he drops to his knees instead. His large, slightly calloused hands grip the backs of your thighs, forcing your legs apart just enough to make his intentions clear.

“How ‘bout you feed me first, greedy girl?” He growls, possessively nuzzling his nose along the soft skin of your inner thigh. “I have a feeling I’m gonna need all my strength to help your stubborn ass work up a proper appetite.”

“Oo-okaay!” Your legs threaten to give out when Ari’s wide, flat tongue begins lapping at your damp flesh, making a show of savoring your sweet honey. He holds you in place while he feasts, his subtle use of strength letting you know that your only job was to keep still and submit to his sensual assault.

“Mm...” Ari rumbles, enjoying every desperate little whine and whimper that makes its way past your lips. "Best meal I've had in days." Forgoing his need to breathe, he fully buries his head between your thighs, content to eat you from the back as if he had all the time in the world.

Which he did, especially now that make-up sex was once again back on the menu.

END

Unofficial Tag List

@katymae12344

@identity2212

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@blackhawkfanatic

@jamneuromain

@queerqueenlynn

@pono-pura-vida

@daykrisr999

@jamneuromain

@ninacutebee16

#fic rec #currently reading

493 notes · View notes

bluemoon-fever · 1 month

Text

come on, Ari! you’re a grown man! stand up for yourself!!! another amazing chapter.

ＴＨＥＮＥＷＲＯＭＡＮＴＩＣＳ ⋆ ＳＥＶＥＮ

— CHEF! ARI LEVINSON X CHEF! BLACK/F! READER (JOLIE FITZGERALD)

“cause baby I can build a castle out of all the bricks they threw at me. And every day is like a battle but every night with us is like a dream”

— warnings: 18+ content, kitchen settings, workplace relationships, confessions, angst, cussing/swearing, mild violence, arguments.

a.n: we’re back, yall! we’re almost done with the story and I think that’s so crazy. I love each and every person that’s supporting the writing, it means so much 💗 enjoy this one! Heed those warnings and enjoy! xx

It felt like the world began spinning in a different way, with a different motivation at hand.

Ari Levinson woke up to a fresh mind, plush imported sheets, and the rays of sunshine that glistened your skin beautifully.

Ari took in your sleeping form, back nestled against his chest.

He didn’t realize how attached his arms were to your body, he never wanted to let you go.

A part of him waited for the dream to stop or someone to pinch him. This still couldn’t be real. He mind salaciously took him back to the entire evening last night.

From his office and back to his house in his bed.

He was on you like nobody’s business and at times, barely let you come up from air. He had to have you, he had to have every inch of your body.

He was a man starved, a man obsessed with you.

When you began squirming to signal your wake, Ari pressed more of his chest to your back and leaned over. You barely said a lick of ‘good morning’ before his lips found yours.

Soft, sweet, and sensual. There was a twinge of romance that had you responding smoothly. Eyes closed and in bliss, you reached back and laced your hands in his thick hair.

“Good morning” Ari rasped once he pulled back. The blush coated his cheeks unabashedly as he looked down at you.

Your laugh was cute. “You don’t get to do everything you did to me all last night and say ‘good morning’ like some saint”

Ari laughed heartedly, the echos of the noise bouncing off of the walls of the bedroom. You turned on your opposite side to face Ari better.

“Just because it’s Sunday doesn’t mean last night didn’t happen nor am I hauling both of our asses up for church” Ari joked.

For a few seconds, silence descended upon you two. There was nothing neither of you immediately ached to say but it seemed like the same topic was actively swirling in your brains.

Ari bit the bullet.

“All saint talk aside, I definitely think I owe you an explanation”

His tone had a soft but serious slick to it. He wanted you to know everything instead of brushing it over like nothing. You nodded silently, giving the brunette your fullest attention.

“These last couple of weeks and honestly since you’ve joined the team, my mind has been in shambles. I couldn’t really figure out what I was feeling but I knew being around you always seemed to make things better”

Ari felt the word vomit slowly seeping out despite his control.

“No one could possibly understand how you made me feel, not even me. But there was a sense of desperation to always keep you by my side. I didn’t want it any other way. And then we kissed and it just.. made me realize how I truly felt”

Your eyes twinkled in a gentle curiosity. “And what’s that?”

Using his free hand, Ari reached out and tucked a stray curl behind your ear.

“Jolie Fitzgerald, you drive me fucking crazy and I like you, a lot. If I’m being honest, I actually think I love you. You make my world spin, you make me smile when I don’t notice, and without a doubt, you make me want to be better”

His hand slid down to cup your face. “You’re like my own breath of fresh air in a world that finds different ways to break me down. With you, I know I can’t lose”

When he leaned down to kiss you, you eagerly met him halfway. Ari wrapped you in his embrace and tenderly guided the kiss.

He was the first to speak again once he pulled away. “Are you a pancake person or waffle person?”

You smiled, “both”

The morning ambiance of 7:30 am saw the two of you nestled close together as breakfast began preparation. You and Ari settled on both pancakes and waffles, fluffy eggs, and potatoes.

It didn’t matter what either of you were doing, Ari kept you to his hip. He craved the feeling of touching you or feeling your body heat because of how close you were to him.

He whisked the eggs one handed, the other arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. He’d occasionally kiss your head.

You’d cut the potatoes and Ari was right behind you, his arms around your waist or on both sides of the counter closing you in.

But it wasn’t just him that obtained such a need. Whatever he did, you were on him just the same. You were his own koala and he fucking loved it.

“Do you need help carrying anything?” You asked looking at the freshly assembled plates of breakfast food.

Ari went to answer but a visual outside caught his eye. A dark car passed down the block outside of his house slowly. He frowned. When it disappeared, it reappeared in the opposite direction once again.

“You okay?” Your voice startled the man a little, it took him from the view outside. The car stopped driving, seemingly parked.

He turned to you and smiled. “Yeah, I thought I saw something but it’s okay” he glanced at the plates of food and orange juice filled glasses. “How about you carry the drinks, I got the plates”

“Okay”

You settled back in the bed with a tray of food and began tucking into it. Ari by your side doing the same thing.

By then you’d gotten dressed. You were draped in your leggings and one of Ari’s shirts. Your thick hair tied up and out of your face with one of the many hair ties you had convinced the man to start buying.

The conversations between you two flowed like the most easygoing river you could think of. He made you laugh, you made him laugh.

“Okay, I’m curious” you began, making Ari glance at you, “how do we plan on going about this at the restaurant? We can’t be mid cooking and we kiss, I don’t think anyone will take a liking to that.. or us see each other for that matter”

With your finished plates placed on the nightstand and off to the side, you and Ari sat facing one another. Uncertainty painted you so clearly and it made Ari a tad nervous.

“I say we go about it in the way that makes sense. We can keep it professional in front of everyone, I don’t mind that. But I won’t hide you if someone asks. You’re my lady and I don’t hide the people I care about”

He reaches out and cups the side of your face, his beautiful blue eyes bore into yours. They swirl in nothing short of sincerity and honesty.

“I want you, Jolie, and I’m not ashamed to say it”

This time it was your turn to kiss him first. With your hands on the wrist cupping your face, your lips pressed softly against his. Your mouths found a sensual rhythm that plunged your heart down your body.

But in a moment so heartfelt and warm, a hard knock of the front door ricocheted throughout the house. Ari pulled away with a frown.

“I promise I’m not expecting anyone. It’s Sunday, my family knows to leave me alone”

You waved him off, “no it’s okay, I understand”

He dipped back in with another kiss and got off of the bed. “Stay here, yeah?”

You nodded, a smile threateningly pulled at your lips. Instead, your cheeks flushed.

Ari closed the door behind him and hustled down the steps, the frown on his face never leaving. Another harsh knock hit the door.

Who the hell is here?

When he approached the door, he looked in the peephole. Ari Levinson felt his heart plummet to the deepest parts of him.

A fiery auburn haired woman stood on the other side. Danielle.

“Fuck” Ari murmured under his breath. He unlocked the door and immediately stepped outside of it. Danielle looked pissed.

“Danielle, are you joking? How the fuck did you find my house?”

“That needs to be the least of your worries! Do you fucking know what today is?”

The cold Manhattan air pushed past her lips. Her red cheeks from the bitter cold, not with how annoyed she was. Ari shrugged no.

The cold almost masked the hot slap Danielle gave him, his cheek almost looked like hers. He gritted his teeth in anger.

“Do you not recall us having coffee today? Something you fucking agreed to?! Do you know how embarrassing it is to think I could trust your word and have to get your address from your parents?”

Ari stayed silent. His anger coursed his veins and saying quiet was the only logical thing to do. Was this real life?

“But that’s only part of my problem with you right now. Answer me this, who’s in your house?”

“Nobody” Ari answered instantly and sharply.

“Don’t lie to me! That other car parked next to yours? Who’s in your fucking house, Ari? And don’t even try to tell me it’s your sister because I just saw her and I will go ballistic”

Ari took in a ragged breath. “Listen. I don’t know how much nerve you think you have showing up to my house but I advise you to make the right choice. Nobody is in my—“

The door behind him swung open revealing a confused Jolie.

Ari turned around frozen in his tracks. His eyes met Jolie’s but her eyes only found Danielle’s. An irate Danielle that had shock written all over her.

“I just came to check on you. I heard yelling..”

Jolie looked on.

“Are you kidding me?” The auburn haired woman muttered.

“Danielle?” You asked. “Ari, what is she doing here?”

But nothing came out, not how he wanted it to. In what felt like a time lapse, Danielle boldly lunged herself toward the door, toward you. Ari was quick to shield you though.

“Hey!” Ari roared out.

“What the hell?!” You yelled out. Instinctually, you lunged right back, trying to jump over Ari’s tall stature and somehow make a connection, but Ari blocked it.

He stepped forward to block another attempted blow by Danielle.

“Are you fucking crazy, Danielle?!” Ari shouted. He couldn’t give a shit about his neighbors, too much was happening and it needed to stop. “What is your problem?”

“You! You’re my problem! You’ve been my problem since you left me!” Danielle spewed. “You were my first love, Ariane. How the hell do you expect me to be okay with you moving on? I love you, I’ve been in love with you ever since! You can’t lead me on by making promises you can’t keep”

Danielle’s eyes held a soft mist of tears. Ari hated seeing anyone cry but in this moment, he knew what he had to do.

You piped in from behind, “what is she talking about?”

“He didn’t tell you?” Danielle chuckled, “he was supposed to take me out today. But instead of telling me the truth, he bails on me”

You scoff and cross your arms. Ari turns to you pleadingly. “It’s not like that at all. Please stay here and let me fix this”

You cut your eyes at the tall brunette. If looks could kill, he’d be dead. You stayed put. He turned back to Danielle.

He sighed. “Danielle, look. I’m sorry if I gave you any mixed signals but I don’t see another future with us, I just don’t”

Danielle grew silent. The tears streamed down her cheeks but she stayed quiet, observing the man she used to call hers.

“All of this is absolutely my fault, you have every reason to be pissed at me. I should’ve been more clear, that’s it. But I can’t change the past, Danielle, I’m sorry”

The New York winter had nothing on the drama that’s finally spilling over. Heat radiated differently from everyone involved. It was bound to happen.

“So what are you trying to say? If you couldn’t be any clearer before, just be clear now. It’s the least you can do” Danielle says.

“I’m laying it all on the table. I’ve got my eyes on someone else and she makes me really, really happy. And.. I can’t jeopardize that. I want to move forward with her, however that looks like. That means you’ve got to leave me alone. You have to stop talking to my parents and stop coming around because it’s confusing them too. You’ve got to let me go, Danielle”

A sheer look of heartbreak caresses Danielle’s face. But instead of getting angry, she nods pathetically. “Wow.. okay. I understand.. excuse me”

She chokes down a sob and turns on her heels, walking fast to her car. Ari watches her get inside and drive off.

The sigh he lets out is loud. This couldn’t have happened.

The brunette turns around to step back inside but what once was a figure there has disappeared.

Ari rushes in and closes his door, he makes a beeline up the stairs. The vision in front of him is enough to bring him to his knees.

Ari caught you mid packing of your things. You were fully dressed in your own clothes, his shirt you were wearing was tossed aside to the floor.

You had your shoes on, your belongings in the bag, and a facial expression that broke his heart.

You zipped your purse and walked towards the door. Ari, teary eyed began stalking towards you.

“Jolie, please—“

You held a hand up to stop him, “Don’t”.

“Please just let me explain everything—“

But you weren’t having any of it. “Can you move, please?”

Defeatedly, Ari stepped aside. You wasted no time with leaving.

First it was the sound of your shoes against the stairs, then it was the front door, then your car door, and then the sound of tires against the pavement.

You were gone and it was all his fault.

Ari Levinson prayed that nobody in the back could notice the tension between him and you. Between the two main leaders of the restaurant.

Tension because it was there. Neither of you said anything to one another. You most certainly ignored Ari to your left and Ari only fed off of your energy.

You didn’t want to talk to him at all and it pained him.

Of course the only words you got from him were work related but Ari knew not to even ask about your day. He wasn’t that bold.

But he still tried.

The kitchen had gotten a little break with the afternoon rush fizzling out. It was good news for Ari but bad news for you.

“I know you want nothing to do with me right now, and I completely understand, but can we please talk?” Ari asked in a hushed tone next to you.

Nothing. You began sanitizing your space, wiping away the crumbs and messes you made upon preparing dishes for the runners and servers.

As far as the man was concerned, this was the only way he could try to get through to you. You weren’t answering his calls or texts since Sunday.

“Jolie, please. You deserve to know everything. I promise it wasn’t at all what it looked like. Please just let me explain”

Silence once again. But Ari expected that. He could try but he knew he wouldn’t be getting anywhere until you were ready to talk.

What he didn’t expect was your hand on his arm pulling him to the back like he weighed nothing. You dragged him to the office until the outside noise became no more.

You closed the door and stood by it. You meant business. Ari went to speak but you stopped him with a hand. Instantly he obeyed.

“I’ve seen your calls and I’ve seen your messages but we will talk when I’m ready. I have too much to say and it’s only been 24 hours, I need to think”

Ari nodded his head vigorously.

“If I’m being honest, you have a lot of things to figure out. Not even just with me, it’s everything. I can’t think to be with someone if they can’t even control the shit happening in their lives”

A chord within Ari struck deeply. Did he ruin everything?

“But we will talk when we talk. Just please.. keep it professional until it’s time for us to go home. That’s all I want”

Abruptly, you exited the room and shut the door. Ari stood there utterly dumbfounded. A tad heartbroken but dumbfounded.

“If I didn’t love you, I would absolutely eviscerate you right now. What the hell were you thinkin’, Ari?”

The sharp tongue of Alessia whipped at him. He wanted to sink further into his couch, he wasn’t to dissolve into nothing.

“I wasn’t thinking—“

“Oh trust me, I was just about to say the same thing. There’s no way you were thinking if you actually slept with her. I love you but goddamnit, that was dumb!”

Alessia’s frustration with her big brother was valid. Every choice unfortunately has a consequence.

“Alessia, please, I know. I called you for advice and insight not for you to verbally cut my fuckin’ head off” Ari bitterly sounded. “You can’t possibly make me feel any worse than I already do. I fucking blew it and it’s my fault”

He felt the corner of his eyes burn with budding tears as he hugged his couch pillow to his chest. Alessia never saw her brother look so crushed.

Little by little, her anger began to decimate. She sighed and took a seat next to him.

“God, what the fuck is wrong with me?” Ari muttered. “Everything that’s ever gone wrong in my life, it’s always been my fault. The minute I think I’m doing well, I mess it up”

Alessia placed a comforting hand on his clothed shoulder, rubbing circles into it.

“I just didn’t think. I like her so much, I couldn’t help myself. And it isn’t like it’s just me, she feels the same too. But because I’m tryin’ to appease Mom and Dad by keepin’ Danielle at bay, she gets involved because I’m not man enough to tell her to fuck off”

Ari tosses his head back against the cushions. “I need to fix this, Les but I don’t know how”

Alessia scoots closer and wraps an arm around her brother, he opts to rest his head on her shoulder.

“I wish I could just make these problems disappear because you still don’t deserve to suffer, Ariane. But it isn’t the end of the world, I promise. The sooner you fix what’s in your way, the clearer your path gets. But the first step is figuring out what’s holding you back”

Ari sniffles and takes in his sister’s words. She was always right, despite those moments where he didn’t want to give her credit.

“You just need to do some inside work on yourself. No one knows you better than yourself. But you’ll do the right thing, I believe in you”

It was time to get real and if Ari hadn’t realized that before, he started to realize it now. There was no going back.

#fic rec #currently reading

49 notes · View notes

bluemoon-fever · 1 month

Note

🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a hoe drabble about:

Ari + chest hair + purring like a cat

Thank you dear Hoe Fairy<3

Damn! Ari with his chest hair... a hell of a combination that I can't resist

I present to you:

Lazy Morning

Warning: Dub-con (since they are married); Actor!Ari Levinson, somno, oral (mentioned just a little), fingering, p in v, fluff and smut.

W/C: ~1.5K

A/N: ...shit I totally forgot about the chest hair part

A Work in Progress Masterlist

"And the Oscar goes to -" The host paused dramatically, before opening the envelop in his hand and pulling out the sheet of paper that contained the name of the winner for tonight.

"-Ari Levinson, from The Feud!"

The first action, out of sheer surprise, was to look into your soft eyes. Ari saw you gasp and cover your mouth in shock, when your eyes dampened in happiness.

He headed to the stage after kissing and hugging you, shaking hands along the way.

"... I want to thank the director Frank Adler, and our team for making The Feud to happen." He choked on his words, on your name, tears rolled heavy beneath his eyelids, "And to my beautiful wife. You mean the world to me. I love you."

...

Your wet mouth engulfed him inch by inch. Words were a slur of moaning coming out of his lips.

"F-Fuck, honey-"

His cock reached the back of your throat. So soft. So warm.

"Feels good, baby?" You whispered in your sultry voice, "Come down my throat. I want to taste you..."

His hand grabbed the back of your neck, pushing you down on his cock. Pushing you down until he was fully seated in your mouth. Until he was on the verge of exploding-.

The sun peeked through the window and the slim creek of the curtains, landing on his skin.

Among the soft incessant buzz of his phone, the faintest of stirring of you in his arms, and the sun, he woke up from slumber.

It took him a moment to recall his memories from last night. Last night was a combination of alcohol, chatting up, and tiring ceremonies.

Right. Ceremony. The Oscar.

Ari scratched his bearded chin. He might have a little problem distinguishing reality from his dream.

The ceremony and the speech, that he remembered. But the fact that you were fully clothed in pyjamas reminded him that the blurry vision he just had - the one where you took him in your mouth - was a dream.

He sighed softly into the back of your neck. The afterparty lasted until three in the morning, and both of you had been too tired to do anything besides getting ready for bed in the early hours. Which led to the fact that he was hard as fuck, and there was nothing he could do about it while you were still sleeping.

You were practically glowing in your sleep, which could be the sun kissing your skin, but still, glowing, peaceful, and he could not believe his luck, marrying you and spending the rest of his life with you.

... on second thought, maybe there was something he could do about it while you were sleeping.

Ari shamelessly slipped his hand beneath your sleeping shorts, prying it down in slow motion, until it was pulled to your knees. His fingers danced around your entrance, carefully rubbing your pussy lips and capturing your clit between his fingers.

You let out a small whine in your sleep, your back pressed to his front a little tighter.

Slick began to gather at his fingertips as he continued his motion of rubbing circles at your most sensitive parts. Ari couldn't help himself but murmur by your ears. He knew you couldn't hear in your dreams, but that didn't stop him from whispering, "So wet for me, honey. I bet you want this as much as I do, yeah?"

As if you could hear him, your walls convulsed and your thighs tightened, before your knee moved higher up on the bed, as if you were granting him access in your sleep.

"Honey..." He murmured, his gaze unwavering, landing on your slick-coated pussy, "if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're awake and wanting. Such a pretty invitation for me, won't you say?"

He pumped his shaft with the slick on his fingers. The tip slowly sunk itself into your velvety walls, as he grunted due to the tightness.

"Fuck, honey, fuck." Ari panted into your neck. His lips pressed into your soft and smooth skin, trailing his kiss to the point where your neck met your shoulder.

You mewled, clawing his arm that circled your waist, moaning in your sleep: "Ari..."

"Yes, honey, I'm right - umph - here." Ari pushed himself all the way in, his legs wedged between your knees, forcing them to open wide as he bottomed out.

"Ari...?" Your eyelashes batted before blinking your eyes open. Half of your consciousness still drowning in the peaceful sleep you had, and the other half bathing in the wet dream - the wet reality where you woke up with the twisted coil of desire burning in your guts.

The thought of your husband taking you in your sleep only added fuel to the fire. You can feel your pussy clenched down hard on his thick cock when his slow but hard thrust hurt your cervix in the most delicious way possible.

A throaty moan was pushed out of your lips when another thrust rearranged your insides. Your hand clung to the iron clad he had to your waist, preventing yourself from slamming into the headboard.

"Love you so much, honey," He groaned loudly as your body responded to him by moving along the rhythm he set. The filthy squelch as your dripping pussy took all of him in hungrily, pounding the life out of you.

You chanted his name like a prayer when he had you come on his cock, when his cum pumped into you, coating your walls with his spend.

Catching your breath and your mind gradually, your fingers intertwined with his, before turning your head and looking his way: "For a second, I thought it was my birthday."

Ari huffed out a laugh. His beard scratched your jaw as he kissed every inch of your skin he could reach. With the morning sex as a wake-up call, he sure could turn this into a habit for your mutual celebrations. A small smile crept up his lips as he spoke, "I think we have some left-over pie in the fridge, 'course we could make it your birthday."

His phone buzzed again, making him curse under his breath.

"Take it." You teased him softly, tapping your knuckle on his chest, "Otherwise the headline tomorrow would be The Disappearance of Oscar-winner Ari Levinson."

Ari reached his long arm to grab his phone. Scamming through the messages and phone calls, he picked a few to answer briefly before tossing his phone aside, burying his face into your neck, and inhaling deeply.

In a few hours, he would have an interview with Variety, and later iMDb. After that, he would be shipped off to Norway via airplane for his new movie which still needed a few weeks in a god-forsaken forest. While you too had your work later tonight, he couldn't help but ask, "Can you stay with me before I go?"

"Sure." You combed through his hair with your fingers. He grew his hair and beard for his new caveman movie in Norway, and now he was fuzzy all over. Sometimes you wonder whether you have a man for your husband, or that he is merely a werebear that loves to pin you under with his weight, "how much time do we have before you go?"

"My flight takes off at 4:45pm." He grumbled into your neck, "Four, five hours...? When are you needed for work?"

You turned to look at him, "Five-ish."

"Good." His hand splayed possessively over your stomach, "That means we can spend some more time on..." He squeezed your tummy suggestively, "celebration."

You could practically imagine him wiggling his eyebrows as he said so. Chuckling, you placed his hands where they needed to be - your spine, "Celebration should wait," you laid comfortably on your stomach, "someone isn't getting any celebration until they fix my waist - bending me around and all that."

Ari sighed in defeat and started working on the stiff muscles on your back - the fact that he did bend your legs in your sleeping form left him speechless and somewhat embarrassed for springing out on you.

With his magical hands doing their best, it was not long until you started humming in content, and his dick twitched in excitement.

His hands began to descend lower and lower, closer to your ass every time he massaged your back.

"You know, I think the massage would perform one hundred percent if you take your sleeping shirt off." His hand glided dangerously close to your core, before shifting his position and muttering by your ear.

"God, you're awful." A breathy groan left your lips as the knots on your back untwined.

"Too bad, you're not going anywhere," Ari lowered himself to kiss your bare back - this smooth bastard had just flipped your sleeping shirt upwards to grant himself better access, "Mrs. Levinson."

#fic rec

138 notes · View notes

bluemoon-fever · 1 month

Text

Chris Evans for Audi, 3/27/24

(From YouTube)

#c. evans

74 notes · View notes

bluemoon-fever · 1 month

Text

Ahh this was amazing!! I always wanted to know how they met! Love seeing some representation of the South as a southern girl. ❤️

Can’t wait for the next part, love.

New In Town

Summary: Introducing Chapter One of my Sweet Renegades Series. Sparks fly when you accidentally find yourself sitting next to Bounty Hunter, Ari Levinson.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Mentions of Death and Grief, Mentions of Book Boyfriends, Allusions to Disordered Eating, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Major thanks to @curls-and-eyeliner for helping me plot out this chapter. This story is part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. Thanks for reading!

It was happening again. You could feel him doing it. You knew without turning your head that the bastard had gone back to staring.

At you.

Gritting your teeth, you make a point of adjusting the skirt of your dress before returning your focus to Reverend Turner at the pulpit. Trying your best to ignore the hum of electricity in your veins, you find yourself wishing that you’d opted to stay home today. After all, you hadn’t been to church in ages.

So what on earth possessed you to return today?

It’s not like you were concerned for your immortal soul or anything. On the contrary, you and God were good. You were even on speaking terms again – now that you’d finally forgiven him for calling your Uncle Leon home before you were ready to let him go.

That had been nearly three years ago.

These days, your grief has taken a backseat in favor of running the town’s only bookshop, Baubles & Quills. Once owned by your Uncle, the store had become your sanctuary as you’d struggled to cope with the loss of the only family you’d ever had.

And now that you’d deemed life worth living again you’d apparently decided that attending Calvary Baptist Church’s Sunday morning service was a good idea. But the one thing you hadn’t counted on when you’d politely – and strategically – taken a seat in the pew closest to the door was that you’d end up sharing it with the likes of him.

That bounty hunter fella that you’d been hearing about for the last week. His arrival had practically sent your little town into a regular feeding frenzy. Word on the street was that he was investigating something that had to do with your old high school pal, Martin Westbrook.

At least that’s what Charline Marshall had said when she’d stopped by your shop to return a book she’d purchased because she didn’t care for the ending. While you weren’t usually one for gossip, you’d been intrigued by her, ah, description of the handsome stranger that had taken up residence just a few blocks south of where you lived.

Two Days Ago…

“His name is Ari Levinson. Kinda strange, right?” She’d whispered conspiratorially, running a hand through her copper colored tresses . “But he’s a tall drink of water with the prettiest blue eyes I‘ve ever seen.”

“Oh really?” You’d mumbled, frowning at the crease that adorned the spine of the paperback book in your hands. Another one for the discount rack.

“Mhm. He’s handsome all over.” Charline had continued, picking up one of your more elaborate looking bookmarks and pretending to study it before using it to fan herself. “And not only that, but…” She’d leaned in then, allowing her freshly manicured nails lightly graze your arm. “I think he likes me.”

“Oh? Has he come out and said that?” Your eyes had gone wide with feigned interest. Because of course the man would be into Charline Anne Marshall. Who wouldn’t be? The woman was beautiful and, what’s more, she knew it.

“Well, I mean…not yet.” The woman had let out a disappointed little sigh. “But I’m almost certain he will. I’m just giving him time to get settled in, you know?” She’d said, her perfectly painted lips curving into a smile as she held out a hand for her change.

“How kind of you.” Good Lord how you wished you could hurry things along so you could go back to enjoying your peace and quiet.

“Ari has already interviewed me twice. He even gave me his number, just in case I happen to remember anything else.” She’d tucked the cash from her return into her purse. “I think I might call him up and tell him that my memory works best after a couple of drinks. Think that’ll work?”

“I guess you’ll never know if you don’t try.” Even though you were annoyed, you’d pasted on a fake smile and closed the register, hoping that might be enough to convince her to end the conversation and move on already.

“Why, I think you just might be right.” Your unwanted guest held up the bookmark that was still in her grasp, her unspoken question left hanging in the air. “And this?”

“It’s on the house, Charline.” You’d patiently replied, bracing your elbows on the counter. “Best of luck landing your bounty hunter beau.”

“Well, aren’t you just a gem?” She’d all but squealed, sounding positively giddy as she took a step back. “You know, I bet if you spent a little more time out in the real world instead of holed-up in here with all these books, you’d probably be able to land a man too. You’d be awful pretty if you’d just put in a little bit of effort into it. I mean –”

“No thanks.” You’d simply shrugged, unable to summon up enough energy to be outraged by the dig.

It wasn’t worth the breath you would've wasted trying to explain why you were better off keeping the company of your book boyfriends. A real man required too much care and feeding for your tastes.

“If you say so, sugar. But–” She’d responded as she strode towards the door. “Oh! You should come to my next party. We’ll let Mary Kay sponsor your makeover.”

'No offense, Charline, but I’d rather put a campfire out with my face than attend your next Mary Kay get-together featuring you and ten of your mother’s closest friends.' You'd thought to yourself.

“Uh, maybe. We’ll see.” You’d hedged before turning on your heel and heading in the direction of the stockroom. “Enjoy the bookmark!” God, you’d never been so happy to hear someone exit your shop than you were at that moment.

Which brought you back to the present. You’re startled out of your reverie when the congregation erupts into thunderous applause, signaling the end of Reverend Turner’s sermon. You knew you were going to have to move quickly if you wanted to avoid any unwanted attention from other members of the flock.

Or worse yet: be forced into making small talk with Ari Levinson. Assuming that beast of a man actually possessed enough brain cells to actually string together a sentence or two. Which was a shame because he really was easy on the eyes.

Unfortunately for you, you don’t realize that now you’re the one who’s staring until you notice the corner of his mouth tilt up in a smirk. Shit. The cocky lawman nods his head in your direction before having the audacity to mouth the word: “howdy”. It almost makes you wonder what his voice would sound like.

Would his southern drawl be thick and rough, or smooth and easygoing? Assuming he was southern, that is.

Feeling your cheeks heat, you make fast work of grabbing your things before scooting out of the pew, doing your best to sneak out of the service before everyone is formally dismissed. The absolute last thing you needed was to have this man thinking you were like every other woman in this town who was willing to practically trip over herself just to get a good look at him.

On your way out you brush past Sister Mary Jo Winans, who is all too eager to follow you out the door and halfway down the front stairs.

So much for making a clean getaway.

“You’re not staying for the potluck?” She wheezes, gripping the railing as she struggles to catch her breath.

“Afraid not, Sister Winans.” You tell her while digging through your purse for your keys. “I’ve gotta go home and change so I can head over to the shop.”

“But it’s Sunday, honey.” The matronly woman huffs, adjusting the angle of her wide-brim church hat. “This is the day that the Lord has made. We are to rejoice and be glad in it. It’s all right there in the good Book.”

“Be that as it may, Sister, I’m afraid I can’t stay. Plus I wouldn’t feel right about eating when I didn’t bring a dish to contribute, so…” You offer up a one-armed shrug. “Next time.”

You also weren’t a fan of eating in front of people. You were always self-conscious about whatever you put on your plate, convinced that you were being judged for your choices. Your stomach growls at the mention of food, reminding you that you’d left some cottage cheese and fruit behind at the shop. That would just have to do until you found the wherewithal to make it to the grocery store.

“But–”

“Next time. I promise.” You kindly interrupt, hoping that she would just let the issue drop. “By the way, I set aside a copy of Joyce Meyer’s latest book for you.”

“You did?”

“Yep.” You confirm as you begin walking backwards towards the nearby parking lot. “Stop by anytime. We’ll consider it an early birthday present, alright?” Smiling when she nods, you toss her a little wave before speed walking the rest of the way to your car.

Unlocking it, you climb in the driver’s seat and slam the door before gunning the engine. Finally free, you peel out of the lot and turn onto the empty street. Needing to focus on something other than your thoughts about a certain bounty hunter, you decide to turn up the radio, praying for your traitorous brain to cooperate.

Yeah, no such luck.

“Fuck you, Levinson.” You spit, wishing that he was close enough to hear you right then. Because the way you saw it, the sooner he packed his shit and moved on, the better off you and everyone else in this godforsaken town would be. And if he knew what was good for him, he’d stay far away from you.

He’d have more luck getting information out of a drunk Charline than he would trying to get you to spill your guts. And the moment he threatened you, you were planning to call Bell’s Creek PD to let them deal with it. Until then, you had some empty shelves to stock. But first…

You were gonna need to find someone to cut you out of these damned spanx.

END

Unofficial Tag List

@katymae12344

@identity2212

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@blackhawkfanatic

@jamneuromain

@queerqueenlynn

@pono-pura-vida

@daykrisr999

@jamneuromain

@ninacutebee16

407 notes · View notes

bluemoon-fever · 1 month

Text

#c. evans

399 notes · View notes

bluemoon-fever · 1 month

Text

Siri, this was so good!!! Both of them make me so emotional 😭 I can’t wait to see where the rest of this story goes.

Wild & Free: Chapter 1

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader Word Count: 5,627 Summary: As punishment for his wild lifestyle, Ransom is exiled to his family's country manor to keep him out of trouble…just as you're finally set free from your life-long captivity. Warnings: AU (note that Richard is Ransom’s stepfather in this verse). Explicit language. Reference to: drinking, drug use, wild self-destructive behavior, rehab, emotional abuse, and bad parenting/grandparenting. Anxiety issues. Panic attack. Shitty family dynamics. Captivity and abuse (belt whipping, but it's not shown). Death of a minor character (not graphic). Kind of mean!Ransom to start. Angst. Feeeeeels.

A/N: Welp, I didn’t really plan on sharing this story here any time soon, but a sweet nonnie asked about it recently, which made me revisit it, and then hoe spiraling happened, and here we are. I love this story so much. It’s one of my faves from back when I had my membership site. I hope you fall as head over heels in love with Ransom and his feral!kitten as I have. ❤️

Ransom Drysdale felt more like a parcel than a person, first being shipped from his penthouse in Boston to rehab, and now from rehab to his family's country manor in the middle of nowhere.

He was being exiled to a place he hadn't been to since he was 10-years-old.

A place he had forgotten about and didn't even know his parents still owned nearly twenty-three years later.

But it made sense, he supposed. As wealthy as they were, and as much as they lived in excess, it wouldn't surprise him one bit if his mother and stepfather forgot about the rural property altogether.

Until now.

His family had been there just once, for six months or so when they first bought it, that stretch of time a blank more than a blur in Ransom's mind. He didn't remember much of his childhood at all really, and all the partying over the years certainly hadn't helped.

But the booze and the drugs and the wild behavior had been his way to try and fill the neverending emptiness inside of him, a way to drown out all of the internal noise that was always buzzing so loudly in the background.

A way to cope with living a life that Ransom hated, surrounded by the rich and the ruthless, and forever labeled a disappointment by his parents.

His parents, Richard Drysdale, the newly minted state senator, and Linda Drysdale, realtor to the rich and famous. They both came from money and had the typical wealthy upbringing.

The Drysdales were the epitome of the rich and elite, caring about nothing more than money, image, and status, and nothing less than Ransom, his value to them–or lack there of–something they had made abundantly clear over the years.

So Ransom figured if he couldn't do anything right, he might as well have some fucking fun.

And he did.

His partying and philandering ways had secured him a new label. In addition to being his parents' biggest disappointment, he was also a "wild, unpredictable playboy."

Ransom had partied just a bit too much as of late, nearly creating a media frenzy for himself–and his parents by proxy–after a night of drinking and being high out of his mind resulted in his vintage car wrapped around a telephone pole.

That night, and what others perceived to be the truth about what happened–what was expected of him, really–turned Ransom's life upside down. The funny thing was: no one besides him actually knew what really happened.

Well, one other person knew, but that bit of information–who the other person was and why they were there–that wasn't something that Ransom was willing to divulge, no matter the consequences.

But what Ransom's parents understood to be true–that it was another seemingly wild night out for him resulting in a near catastrophe–it had been the last straw.

After calling in favors and paying off everyone from journalists to police officers to eye witnesses to keep Ransom's reckless behavior out of the news, they had reamed him a new one. Lots of scathing comments about how his conduct was a stain on their family name and jeopardized his stepfather’s political career. Some bemoaning about how they wished Ransom was more like his older stepbrother, the golden child who was making a name for himself in the field of education and the apple of his parents' eye.

And not one goddamn ounce of concern over Ransom or his injuries.

Then they had threatened to cut him off financially–for good–before locking him up in rehab for months as a punishment more than anything, because his actual recovery was something his parents could give two shits about.

Now that Ransom was clean, his parents were shipping him off to the middle of nowhere, where he couldn't get into trouble, and they were holding ongoing access to his trust fund over his head to keep him there.

More importantly, sending him away and having him out of the limelight was their way of ensuring that everyone would forget that Ransom Drysdale, the spectacular screw up, even existed.

At least for a little while.

As Ransom slumped against the door in the back seat of the town car–staring out the window past the reflection of his model handsome pale features and light brown hair–he supposed being exiled to the country was better than staying in rehab, or worse, being locked up in his parents' penthouse.

He'd rather be homeless than live under the same roof as his parents.

So he was quiet–and sullen–as he dozed, unaffected by the beautiful scenery that whizzed by as the car drove along the winding country roads that were quiet and empty and so much different than the bumper to bumper traffic of the city.

Ransom was just on the edge of genuine sleep when the car turned off the main road and transitioned from asphalt to gravel as the driver drove down the long driveway.

His surroundings were becoming familiar now, and Ransom perked up in his seat, wide awake as anxiety began to lap at him the closer they came to the country manor.

He couldn't quite pinpoint why he was suddenly overcome by such a powerful wave of apprehension, but by the time the car came to a full stop in front of the large home, Ransom was consumed by a sense of dread that had him sitting rigid in his seat as he tried to swallow against the sudden dryness in his throat.

Never one to sit idly by, especially when uncomfortable, Ransom didn't bother waiting for the driver to open his door before he was shoving it open himself and pouring himself to his feet.

From behind his expensive sunglasses, he gazed up at the huge manor. It was three stories tall with a wraparound porch on both the ground and second levels and black shutters framing every single window and giving it a distinguished look. The perfectly manicured lawn was emerald green and stretched on every which way for what seemed like acres and acres.

A brief memory rose up within him as he stood before the manor, a flash of the very first time he had arrived here twenty-three years ago, and how excited he had been as a 10-year-old boy, to have this sprawling property–what had seemed like his own new kingdom ready to be explored–at his fingertips.

And then another moment from the past accosted him, the day his family left this place months later, and how distressed he had been, crying in the backseat of his stepfather's car as he stared out the back window, devastated.

Blinking back to the present moment, Ransom shook off the ghosts of his past, ignoring the way his stomach turned unpleasantly as he glanced around. He was unmoved by the exquisite nature and grandeur surrounding him, instead irritated and resentful for being forced to be here, in the middle of nowhere, all by himself.

Letting his irritation and anger consume him and drown out the anxiety and dread that had greeted his arrival, Ransom's lip curled into a sneer as he gazed up at the manor.

His new prison.

"Do you have a preference for which room you'd like to settle into, sir?"

Ransom didn't even glance over at the driver who had dutifully fetched all of his luggage from the trunk, and he also didn't offer to help the older man carry the heavy haul.

"The biggest room, obviously," Ransom snapped.

Without a glance back, he stalked up the brick steps leading to the porch before shoving open the front doors and entering the manor, already itching for a high or a dose of chaos, both of which he knew he'd never find here.

What he did find once he entered the extravagant home were two more staff waiting to greet him in the spacious foyer.

The older of the two women stepped forward, smiling warmly as she welcomed him home.

"This isn't my home," Ransom glowered at her.

"Forgive me, sir," she continued, unruffled. "I'm Savannah, the housekeeper, and this is Ruby, your personal chef." She gestured to the younger woman standing behind her who looked just as annoyed to be accosting him as Ransom felt to be accosted.

"Yeah, and?" Ransom snapped, already stepping past them and jogging up the wide staircase.

"We're on site until four o'clock if you need anything," Savannah called after him.

Ransom ignored her, pausing at the landing as he glanced down both ends of the long hallway.

"This way, sir," the driver panted, nodding to the left as he appeared behind Ransom at the top of the stairs, struggling with the various suitcases in his grip.

Ransom pivoted to the left and strode down the hallway, uncaring of the pristine condition of the manor or refreshing himself on where all the various closed doors led. Instead he shoved through the double doors at the end of the hall and swept into the master bedroom, his gaze landing on the set of glass doors that led out to the large balcony overlooking the back of the property.

"Do you require anything else, sir?" the driver asked once he set aside Ransom's luggage just inside the room.

"Yeah, for you to get lost, Jeeves," Ransom replied. He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it on the foot of the perfectly made king size bed before moving toward the balcony.

"It's 'Jennings,' sir, Phillip Jen–"

"Don't care," Ransom waved a dismissive hand at the other man before pulling open the balcony doors and stepping outside.

Distantly aware of the driver taking his leave, Ransom moved toward the balcony railing, his eyes drinking in the miles and miles of untouched land spread out before him.

Beyond the back patio below was a lush, well-maintained garden, and beyond that acres and acres of an overgrown clearing. It backed up onto the edge of the woods that lined the back property, and Ransom knew that through those woods there was a stream that led to–

He gasped for breath, his chest constricting all of the sudden as he staggered back against the side of the house. Clutching his chest, Ransom continued to wheeze for air, suddenly aware of how fast his heart was beating–unnaturally so–and the sweat beading his forehead.

Closing his eyes as his extremities began to tingle, he sagged back against the exterior wall and focused on his breathing. In through his nose and out through his mouth, slow and deep and shaky until he could finally breathe normally and didn't feel so dizzy.

So panicked.

Brow furrowing, Ransom stumbled back inside, a sudden headache throbbing through his skull as he hurried into the connected bathroom and began rifling through the medicine cabinet for some pain killers.

He choked down three of them in one go, drinking a few handfuls of water from the sink faucet before turning off the water. When Ransom finally planted his hands against the bathroom counter and sagged forward, his gaze lifted to stare at his reflection in the mirror.

The man staring back at him looked haunted.

You could tell the sun was starting to set for the day, catching glimpses of the way the sky outside was changing from blue to pink and orange through the cracks in the wall of the rotting shed where you were chained up.

The shed had been the only home you had known your whole life, a life spent caged like an animal out back of your poppy and grammy's home.

Your stomach growled loudly and you shifted, the heavy chain connecting the manacle around your ankle to the metal anchor in the floor a few feet away jangling as you tried to focus on how pretty the sky looked instead of how you hadn't eaten in days.

Despite being starving and desperate for fresh water, anytime you went this long without sustenance also marked a reprieve from your poppy.

Poppy was your dead mother's father, and he hated you with every fiber of his being.

It was your own fault though, because you were so bad.

You were the reason your mother was dead–having passed in childbirth when you were born–and the reason why your poppy was so sad it made him angry.

And violent.

Just thinking of him seemed to summon him to you as the shed door suddenly swung open and slammed hard against the far wall, your poppy's figure filling the doorway.

You whimpered, uncaring of the way the shackle around your ankle bit into your skin even more than usual as you scrambled backwards and curled into the corner of the shed. You clutched your knees to your chest, your long, filthy dress stiff with dirt and grime and long-dried sweat as you trembled and watched with wide eyes as your poppy staggered closer.

"You devil spawn," he spat, his words slurred as he paused long enough to take a deep gulp from the half-empty liquor bottle he gripped in one hand.

Poppy's dirty jeans and flannel hung off of his tall, thin frame as he sneered at you with so much hate and vitriol shadowing his gaze.

"You killed my whole family," he accused, moving closer. "My daughter." Another drink as he stared down at you with violence in his eyes. "And my wife, made her so sad she couldn't bear it and just faded away, god rest her soul."

Poppy's voice broke then, his features crumpling for a moment before he was taking another deep drink to wash away his sorrow.

Your own eyes filled with tears at the recent loss of your grammy. She hadn't been much kinder to you than poppy, but she also hadn't been violent. She made sure you had food and water each day and even brought you a book sometimes, once she realized you could read.

Grammy would sit with you every once in a while and tell you about your mother, how pretty she'd been, and smart, too. How she'd wanted to be a teacher because she loved children. And then she'd been a bad girl and had gotten pregnant by her boyfriend out of wedlock, breaking her parents' hearts with her sinful behavior and saddling them with you.

Those memories faded away as poppy threw his empty liquor bottle behind him, all done with his mean juice now as the glass shattered loudly on the cold cement floor. His hands fumbled with his belt, making the keyring clipped to one loop jangle as your blood turned to ice in your veins.

The latest wounds along your back were still sore and healing and you didn't know if you could take another whipping so soon.

"You killed them both, you little bitch," poppy seethed, baring his teeth as the tendons in his neck bulged with his ire. "M'gonna take care of you now, for good, like I should've done all those years ago."

He finally wrestled his belt from its loops, twining it around his hands at either end and giving it a taut snap.

"This is what bad girls get," he growled, staggering closer, until he was looming right over you and you could feel his spittle fly as he hissed his next words, "You're so fucking bad, a curse, a plague on my family, but no more, not any more, I can't stand to look at you for one more goddamn sec–"

You startled as your poppy suddenly went quiet, his eyes shooting wide as he clutched at his chest, wheezing and grunting before he dropped to the floor, writhed around a bit, then laid still as a statue.

Chest heaving with frightened, shallow breaths, you just watched him for a long moment, waiting for him to wake up, to move, to make a sound, anything.

But he didn't.

As the sun continued to set outside and the shed grew darker by the moment, your poppy laid motionless on the ground a few feet away.

Eventually you worked up the courage to move closer to him, your chain rattling as you slowly, hesitantly crawled out of the corner.

"Poppy?" you whispered, touching his calf and gently shaking.

He remained still.

You shifted even closer, until you knelt over him, your eyes flickering from his motionless face and lower, watching his chest and realizing that it wasn't rising and falling or moving at all.

Feeling your heart jackhammer in your chest, you tentatively ducked down, pressing your ear to his chest to listen.

When you were greeted by silence, your breath caught, your eyes big and disbelieving as you slowly straightened and stared down at your dead grandfather.

And then your gaze descended, until you were staring at the keyring still secured to poppy's belt loop.

The keyring that housed the key to the manacle around your ankle.

Giving poppy's lifeless face one final glance, you slowly reached out and unclipped the keyring from his jeans. Gripping the proper key between your shaking fingers, you unlocked the manacle from around your ankle before carefully setting it aside.

You took a moment to inspect the bruised, bloody mess left behind, softly poking around the tender flesh of your ankle and wincing in pain before you gingerly rose to your feet.

It washed over you slowly, the realization that you were free.

You were free, for the first time ever.

Free from the chains. Free from your poppy. Free from this small, rotting prison.

Free from this life.

As your brain slowly processed all of this, you stood over poppy's corpse for a long moment, staring down at him as you fisted the manacle key in your palm. Your mind was whirring, trying to figure out what came next, what you should do and where you should go.

You'd never had things to do or decisions to make before, your life just one ongoing loop of captivity and abuse.

Until now.

And it all snapped into place quite suddenly.

You would bury your poppy up on the hill where he laid your grammy to rest, so they could be together and maybe not so sad in their afterlife.

Then you would go to him, like he told you to, and like you always dreamed of doing, ever since you were a small girl.

"Follow the stream at the end of the property behind the shed," your voice was scratchy from disuse as you began to recite his directions from all those years ago, words that had been burned into your brain since you were 6-years-old.

You had repeated them thousands of times over the years, because those words–his directions and promise–had been your one small glimmer of hope through years of darkness, hope that maybe someday you'd escape.

Escape the shed and your circumstances and find something better, something happier.

"Through the woods and across the clearing," you continued to whisper to yourself, "Keep going until you see the big white manor with black shutters on all the windows. Come to me, and I'll protect you, I promise."

Your voice broke on the last word, tears brimming and your chest constricting as you stepped over your grandfather's body and tentatively moved toward the shed door.

For the first time ever, you stepped outside the shed, taking a deep, shaky breath of the cool, fresh air as your tear-filled eyes flickered all around.

No matter which direction you looked, the impending darkness of evening greeted you–and your freedom, too–and it was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

Ransom was sprawled on the sofa in the living room, glowering down at his phone as he scrolled through his social media feed.

While he stayed here, alone and bored out of his mind, his friends were out and about, living it up, and they didn't seem to miss him one bit.

He scrolled some more, then paused as something caught his eye. He went back, gaze narrowing as a photo of his best friend, Bryce Langley, and his ex, Isabelle Vincent, canoodling and smiling big for the camera made his jaw clench.

Ransom didn't care one fucking iota about Isabelle, who was the poster child for a spoiled, self-centered socialite, but the fact that Bryce was out with her and partying without him, seemingly taking over his mantle while he was at it, made Ransom's blood boil.

Growling, he huffed to himself as he vengefully deleted all of his social media apps, the only thing he really could do at the moment.

Besides, if his friends could so easily forget about him, then he could do the same.

Fuck them all.

Just as he was about to set his phone aside, the screen lit up with an incoming call. Ransom read the name of the caller and rolled his eyes, answering with a drawled,

“Hello, brother.”

There was a pause on the other end before a quiet throat clearing sounded, and then Ransom's older stepbrother was greeting him in return. "Are you all settled in?"

"I'm here," Ransom scoffed, sinking back in his seat. "Dunno about settled."

Another long beat of silence stretched on between them before his stepbrother murmured, “You don’t deserve to be there.”

“Eh," Ransom shrugged, despite being by himself at the moment. "Maybe not for that night but I’m sure I’m paying off some karmic debt for some other bullshit I've stirred up in the past.”

"You should tell everyone the truth."

"Shoulda, woulda, coulda," Ransom hummed.

A heavy sigh, then: “Maybe it will be good for you. You loved that place when we were kids, well, until we had to leave. But maybe it can be like a reset for you.”

Ransom snorted, loudly. “Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“You know I’m here if you need me, right?”

“I don’t need anyone," Ransom sneered, his leg starting to shake as anxiety trickled through him.

“Everyone needs someone, even you, Ransom."

"Look," Ransom said more harshly than he meant to as he shoved himself to his feet. "It's been a long day and the last thing I need right now is one of your bullshit lectures, so, let's just not, okay?"

His stepbrother sighed again, but before he could reply, Ransom beat him to it.

"Just, don't worry about me. No one else does, and I'm used to it by now. Have a good night, brother," he said before ending the call and tossing his phone aside.

Ransom stared into space for a beat, fists clenching at his sides and then his eyes were falling to the drink cart in the corner of the room and he was stalking over to it without thinking.

He rifled around for a moment before growling his frustration. The fucking thing had everything but alcohol, and Ransom scowled before he stalked through the manor, on the hunt for a drink, or even some smokes, anything to help mute all of the overwhelming emotions rising up within him.

The second sitting room proved just as alcohol free, as did the downstairs study his stepfather used to use as his home office.

Hissing obscenities under his breath, Ransom stormed into the kitchen, checking the freezer then all of the cabinets for even one goddamn ounce of liquor before coming up short.

It seemed his mother had made sure the manor staff had cleaned the premises of all booze and anything else he could potentially use to take the edge off.

"I hate this fucking place," Ransom growled, slamming the final cabinet door shut before turning away, and then freezing on the spot.

Because there was someone outside on the back patio, watching him.

You.

Gazing through the glass doors as you skulked through the darkness, Ransom felt his wrath increase tenfold.

"Now I have to deal with someone trying to break in and steal from me, too? I don't fucking think so."

He didn't hesitate to stalk toward the back doors and flip on the light outside, flooding the patio and yard with light and making you jump in surprise.

Ransom's lips twisted in distaste as he got his first good look at you. You were filthy, wearing a dress that looked more like a sack and covered in dirt from head to toe as you curled in on yourself on the receiving end of his withering stare.

"Jesus Christ, fucking homeless people," Ransom hissed, throwing open the back doors and storming outside.

He grabbed the hose from where it was neatly stored on its rack on the side of the house before twisting the faucet and pointing the nozzle at you.

"Get the fuck off my property!" he yelled, pulling the trigger and aiming the hose at you.

He got a small sense of satisfaction as he doused you in the ice cold stream of water, watching as you yelped and spluttered and turned away before darting out of sight.

"This fucking place," Ransom gritted, not bothering to wrap the hose back up neatly before he flung it to the ground.

He gave the yard one more survey with his narrowed gaze before deeming it free from disgusting vagabonds and sweeping back inside.

A few hours later, Ransom finally turned off the TV with a weary sigh. He rubbed at his tired eyes before rising from the sofa and making his way from the living room to the kitchen.

He poured himself a glass of water before turning off some of the overhead lights, the sparkling white kitchen no longer so blinding as he left only the dim bulb over the stove on as he turned to go upstairs to bed.

However, just like earlier in the evening, he paused as he caught movement outside.

Sighing, because he was more tired than anything at this point, Ransom set down his drink and moved toward the glass doors that overlooked the yard.

You met his gaze from your spot huddled in the corner of the patio. Hugging your knees to your chest, you shivered in the cold night air, your dress still soaked from being hosed down earlier as it clung to your body, and your eyes so big and scared as you watched Ransom's tall frame through the glass doors.

"Ransom?" you wobbled his name, looking both confused and hopeful as you awaited his confirmation.

He was quiet for a long moment, his suspicious gaze flickering over you before something foreign and unexpected twinged in his chest at the pathetic sight of you. His voice was nowhere near as furious as before as he sighed, “How do you know my name? And why won’t you leave?”

“You told me to come," you trembled, your voice just loud enough for him to make out through the patio doors. "You're my friend."

"I don't even know you," he scoffed.

"You said you’d protect me. You promised.”

And as you stared up at him from the corner of the patio where you were curled up as small as possible and watching him with pleading, oddly familiar eyes, Ransom suddenly remembered.

He remembered the first time he met you twenty-three years ago.

That memory, like so many others, were buried so deep down that Ransom had no idea they even existed until this very moment. They were repressed, along with the true extent of the years and years of emotional abuse and being unloved and manipulated by his parents that Ransom had suffered.

But they were there.

And those memories rushed back now, in vivid detail that was like watching a movie play in his mind’s eye…

The beginning of your story together.

Ransom was still frowning at the way his mother had screamed at him for tracking dirt into the kitchen when he'd tried to get a snack after playing outside when he spotted the old shed in the distance.

Soon he was upon it and carefully pulling the creaky door open to find you inside.

You looked a few years younger than him, and so much smaller as you curled up in the corner of the shed, chained to the floor, your eyes changing from frightened to curious as you got a good look at him…

It was his third visit in as many days as Ransom sat beside you in the back of the shed, his arm brushing yours as he fished a sandwich from a small plastic bag and handed it over.

You peeked up at him shyly from beneath your lashes as you accepted the sandwich with a quiet, "thank you," nibbling at it as you watched Ransom pull a bottle of water from his backpack and hand that over next…

"How come they keep you locked up like this?" Ransom asked. His lips quirked as he accepted half of the PB&J sandwich–your favorite–that he had brought you today from your small hand and took a bite.

"Because I'm bad," you told him through your chewing. "And they hate me."

"I don't think my parents like me much either," Ransom shrugged.

"I like you," you told him, earning a small smile from Ransom.

"And I don't think you're bad," he replied…

"They're keeping her locked up like…like a dog or something!" Ransom yelled, stomping his foot as his parents shared an amused look across the kitchen.

"Sure they are, sweetheart," his mother snorted, sweeping over to the dining table and taking a seat.

"We need to help her, please!" Ransom begged, swiping the angry tears from his cheek with the back of his hand. "Please, she's my friend."

"Enough!" Richard snapped as the phone began to ring. "I have a business call and I don't have time for your bullshit. Now go outside and stay gone for a while, or so help me god, you are going to regret it, young man."...

"I'm sorry I couldn't help you," Ransom whispered, his voice breaking as his small body shook with a sob. "I tried, I really did."

"It's okay," you whispered, shifting closer and hugging his arm. "Thank you for trying, and for being nice to me."

Sniffling, Ransom wiped his face before turning to you. He watched you for a long moment, something fierce and determined burning in his eyes.

"Listen carefully, okay?" he whispered.

You nodded, your eyes big and avid as you watched him, listening intently.

"When you get out of here, follow the stream at the end of the property behind the shed, through the woods and across the clearing," he told you. "Keep going until you see the big white manor with black shutters on all the windows. Come to me, and I'll protect you, I promise."

Your lips quirked as you held up your pinky the way he had taught you that first time months ago. "Pinky promise?"

Ransom grinned, nodding. "Pinky promise," he echoed, hooking his pinky in yours and giving your smaller hand a gentle shake…

"You better get inside or you're gonna regret it," Linda hissed through the back patio doors.

"I'm not going, you can't make me!" Ransom screamed, standing out in the middle of the rain and stomping in the mud, kicking up filth on purpose in his ire. "I don't want to move back to the city! I want to stay here! I won't leave her, I won't! She's my friend!"

"Ransom Drysdale!" his mother snarled, watching his tantrum in horror. "You little shit! That's it, I've had it with you. Running around like some sort of wild little beast, always ruining your clothes and making a mess of my house, never listening to me…I have had it with you! You want to stay, then fine. Stay out there all fucking night! By morning you'll be begging me to come inside, just you wait!"

Ransom went quiet at his mother's tone, meeting her gaze through the glass doors and flinching at the look of loathing she was aiming his way.

"I wish you were never born," she hissed, lips tilted into a satisfied sneer as she locked the patio doors, giving Ransom another cruel, hateful look before turning on her heel and storming away.

Ransom watched her go, shivering as the wind kicked up and the rain pelted him harder. Swallowing around the lump in his throat and blinking back tears, he moved out of the rain and onto the patio. Sliding down the side of the house, he pulled his knees to his chest and hugged himself tight.

Blinking back to the present, Ransom could still feel the heavy weight of that moment–that realization–from so many years ago suffocating him.

It was the moment he realized, even at such a young age, that his mother didn't love him.

That she could so easily–and with so much satisfaction–leave her distraught 10-year-old son outside in the freezing rain over night to fend for himself. That she could say such cruel things to him…

Even now, so many years later, as a man who had distanced himself as much as possible from his toxic parents and had convinced himself that he didn’t care what they thought, it hurt.

It was the kind of pain that he felt bone deep–to his core, really–and that he wouldn’t wish on his most hated enemy.

The lump of emotion that swelled in Ransom's throat at that memory–and all the others–was an alarming, foreign thing, as were the tears burning at the back of his eyes. He tried like hell to blink them away as he dropped his forehead to the cold glass of the patio door, shaken and overwhelmed.

After a long moment, his eyes met yours through the glass once more, but this time, you weren't a stranger to him.

Ransom remembered you now, and he remembered his promise.

And he didn't think twice about flipping the lock, opening the doors, and letting you inside.

AHHHHHHHH! I LOVE THEM SO MUCH IT HURTS, THESE TWO BROKEN BABIES. PLEASE OH PLEASE TAKE A MOMENT TO DROP ME A COMMENT! ❤️

—

I no longer do tag lists, but if you'd like to be notified when I post new writing, follow my side blog @‌sirisshamelesshoelibrary and turn on notifications to get pinged when I drop some new hoe fuel 😘

Please note that I do not give permission for my work to be translated, reposted, or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or my personal author website. Reblogs are most welcome and encouraged though! ❤️

#fic rec #currently reading

336 notes · View notes

bluemoon-fever · 1 month

Note

as someone with storm anxiety and trauma, this was just what i needed 😭

Request: Andy Barber & Baby Girl having sex during a thunderstorm.

Through the Storm

Summary: Andy helps you overcome your fear of thunderstorms.

Warnings: Astraphobia, Smut, Anxious Reader, Dominant Andy, Manhandling, Fingering, Spanking, CMNF (Clothed Male, Nude Female), Safe Sex, Cuddles, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Finally finished this WIP! This request takes place early in Andy and Reader's relationship. Part of my ongoing Growing Pains Series, but can also be read as a standalone. Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

You stare out into the backyard, watching sheets of slanted rain pelt against your boyfriend’s newly installed patio. While it wasn’t much, it was enough to give the compact enclosed space the cozy feel it had long been missing. You’d even helped him with the landscaping, much to your chagrin.

Andy had been quick to learn that while you enjoyed gardening you were also terrified of virtually all things creepy crawly, like bees. Especially bees. Your man hadn’t known what to make of that one, which had certainly made for an entertaining afternoon.

A loud crash of thunder suddenly booms overhead, startling you so bad that you nearly drop the bottle of water in your hands. You fucking hated thunderstorms, a fun little nugget that you had yet to share with the man who was currently waiting for you to join him upstairs.

Truth be told, you hadn’t even planned on staying over tonight. You were supposed to be home by the time the storm rolled in, tucked away safe and sound on your couch. All the while clutching your stuffed bear, Mr. Sprinkles, for dear life and watching your favorite comfort films until Mother Nature decided she was done with her tantrum.

But dinner with friends had gone long and then the show had started late. Well, the dinner itself hadn’t actually been with friends – more like one of his work colleagues. But the guy’s wife had been nice enough. And after enjoying one last round of drinks, you four had wandered across the street to take-in a production of Aladdin on Broadway.

Of course musicals weren’t really your thing, but since it was a childhood favorite of yours you’d been all for it. Your boyfriend didn’t know how much of a Disney fan you really were. Which was okay. Because he was older, more mature. And as such, you always tried to come off more sophisticated than what you actually were.

He’d already been married once before and had a child. One he’d lost a few years back. You two had yet to actually have a true conversation about that one but you were almost certain it was coming.

It had to be, right? Because it wasn’t like you both could skirt around the topic forever. But, at the same time, it’s also not like you could be the one to bring up. Like, how would a conversation like that even go?

Exactly. It wouldn’t. Because you couldn’t. It wasn’t your place.

So, you would allow that door to remain shut for as long as it took to allow him to open it and guide you through. You could be patient.

Alright fine. You would make yourself be patient. And until then you would keep trying to demonstrate the right amount of emotional maturity needed to prove that you could be a good partner and support system. Or at least a little worldlier than you probably came off.

But all of that would be pretty hard to do if Andrew Barber knew that you were secretly afraid of thunderstorms. He wouldn’t get it and you would only end up tripping all over yourself if you tried to explain. Which meant that you had to make a decision.

Either you could be brave and climb the stairs so you could crawl into bed – his bed – wearing nothing but a pair of panties and one of his oversized t-shirts. Or you could sneak upstairs, grab your clothes, and dash out your man’s front door into the night like a madwoman and hope that he would be too stunned to chase you down.

“Whatcha doin’ down there, Baby Girl?” Andy bellows from up above, making you jump.

“Noth–coming!” You shout back as you pad towards the stairs, still trying your best to devise a plan. Andrew Barber was deceptively fast, which meant running was out. So you were most likely gonna have to suck it up until he fell asleep and then you would be free to tremble in peace.

The city’s hottest attorney could not know that he was dating the world’s biggest scaredy cat. If he ever found out, you might never recover from the embarrassment.

You find yourself holding your breath as you round the corner before stepping inside Andy’s bedroom. Your man looks up from his phone when he notices that you’ve finally joined him. A warm smile spreads across his handsome features as he leans back, allowing his big body to relax against the frame.

“Thought I was gonna have to come looking for you.” His husky purr sends a tiny shiver coursing through you, all the way down to your toes.

“Uh, nope. Here I am.” Your eyes stray towards your overnight bag nestled innocently in the corner. Because if you weren’t mistaken you were also beginning to sweat. “But I was thinking that maybe I ought to – nooope!”

An loud, unexpected clap of thunder has you diving towards the bed with a shriek. You seek refuge under the blankets, ignoring the sounds of a bewildered Andy calling your name. He tries to lift up the edge of the comforter, but you refuse to let go.

At this point, you have no desire to acknowledge just how ridiculous you were being at that very moment. Because you were scared.

And also a smidge mortified.

“Um, honey..?” Andy works to keep his tone light. “What’s going on?” He pauses briefly as one big hand comes to rest on what he assumes must be your head. “Are you okay?”

“Yep!” You squeak out, clutching the blanket even tighter around you. “But I’m also really, really sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Again he tugs at the edge of your makeshift shield, prompting you to try and roll away. “You haven’t done anything – can you at least look at me? Please.”

“Um, I…I don’t think so. No.” Your words come out slightly muffled.

You’re rewarded with a heavy sigh followed by a brief moment of silence. Although you’re not sure what you expected him to say, you’re still surprised by what comes next.

“Well, if you won’t come out, then I guess that means I’ll just have to come under there then, won’t I?”

Fine by you. Because you were pretty sure that you were only seconds away from dying of embarrassment anyhow.

“Kay.”

“Let me in, princess.”

Relief fills him when he sees you finally relax your grip. Seconds later he joins you under the blankets, cocooning you both within the plush softness.

“Hey.” Andy breathes as his eyes strain to adjust to the light.

“Hey.”

As if of its own accord, one of his hands reaches over to gently brush your curls away from your face. A quiet sigh makes its way past your lips as you feel yourself melting into his touch. In a way it acted as an unspoken reminder.

You were safe with this man. Which meant it was time to fess up.

“Umm…” He makes an exaggerated show of looking around. “Why are we hiding?”

“Because.” You whisper, only to flinch when another crack of thunder echoes above.

“Because?” Your man drags out the word. “Because what? Are you–?” He cuts himself off before trying again. “I’m gonna guess that all this has something to do with the storm. Am I somewhere in the ballpark?”

His question has hot tears pricking the backs of your eyes.

“I don’t like it.” You croak before giving into temptation and burying yourself in his tattoo-covered chest. “In fact, I hate it.”

Good Lord, you sounded so pitiful right now.

“The…storm?”

“All of it.” You confirm as you begin to tremble ever so slightly. “The lightning, the thunder, the heavy winds, the sound of the rain. S’too much.”

“I see.” Is all he says, even as his hand goes to rest on the small of your back, rubbing in easy, soothing circles.

“I’m sorry.” You feel even worse when the tears spill over onto Andy’s bare skin.

“Hush.” Comes the soft-spoken command, drawing you flush against his much larger body. “There’s no need to be sorry. I just wish you would’ve said something earlier. Is that why you were so adamant about going home tonight?”

“Mmhm.”

But then your handsome ogre just had to go and be difficult.

“And I convinced you to stay.” Andy huffs out a disappointed breath at the same time as he drags his knuckles along your spine. “I should’ve noticed something was wrong. All I could think about was how much better I sleep whenever you’re next to me.” You can tell he’s annoyed now – not with you – but with himself. “Should’ve thought to ask why you seemed so skittish.” He drops a brief kiss on the top of your head.

“Andy…”

“I’m sorry, Baby Girl.” He grunts, pulling away so that he can get a good look at your face. “No–” He continues when you open your mouth to interrupt. “I should’ve been paying better attention. That’s on me.” He takes a moment to whisper his sensual, full lips over your own.

“It’s okay.” You assure him before pressing a tender kiss on his left pec, just above his heart. “I probably should’ve said something earlier. It was just…I guess I was embarrassed.” You finish with a shrug.

“Why?” He cocks his head to the side as he patiently waits for you to answer. Although it was hard to read his expression in the dark, you knew he was genuinely curious.

“Because it’s a stupid.” You mumble a few seconds later. “It’s stupid and I’m stupid for–”

“No it’s not.” Andy swiftly interjects. “And no you’re not. So please let that be the last time I hear you refer to yourself that way.” His gruff tone leaves little room for argument, not that you were in the mood anyway. Seconds later, another clap of thunder, followed by a flash of lightning, has you diving back into the safety of his arms.

“Fuck.” Pissed at himself, he quickly wraps his arms around you before gently rocking you back and forth in an effort to calm you down. “When did it start?” More thunder booms overhead the whole house, loud enough to shake the whole house.

Andy frowns when he hears the tiny whimper that escapes your throat. .

“It’s silly.” You warn, even as you close your eyes and force yourself to take a deep breath.

“Try me.”

He’d stay up all night if that’s what it took to get you to talk. The last thing he wanted was for you to shut down on him. Again.

“Please.”

Guess that was your cue to start spilling your guts.

“Wh–when I was a little girl, I couldn’t have been more than six or seven, there was this really bad storm. I mean later we would find out that tornadoes had touched down all over the region. But that night – I swear the rain was coming down so hard it sounded like hundreds of baseballs were being pelted against the roof. And the wind was blowing so hard that it kept rattling windows.”

“Mmhm.” The small, noncommittal sound rumbles from somewhere deep within his chest, spurring you forward.

“So my dad woke us all up, me and my siblings, and herded us down to the basement. I guess he’d been watching the news and figured we’d be safer there. My mom had laid out blankets and sleeping bags for us. At first it seemed kinda fun – almost like we were camping out.”

Another bright flash of light briefly illuminates the bedroom, but you’re too engrossed in your story to really care. Plus, you had Andy to keep you safe. Nothing bad ever seemed to happen when you were with Andy. At least not so far.

“I could see that.” Your boyfriend affirms, before giving your hip a light squeeze. “Bet you probably had a cool sleeping bag.”

“I totally did. I actually had one of those Disney character sleeping bags.” The memory makes you smile as your initial anxiety begins to lessen. “Come to think of it, we all did. But mine had Genie from Aladdin on the front of it. I remember because I got to pick it out myself.”

“I knew I had the right idea when I invited you out tonight.” Andy muses, brushing his mouth against your curls once more.

“Yeah, Big Man. I’m a Disney girl. And I sure did love that sleeping bag.” You take a moment to lace your fingers through his, needing the connection. “Which was why I climbed right on in and let my mother zip me up. At that point, I think my little sister started crying or something, so I let her crawl inside with me. After that she went right to sleep.”

“But I’m guessing you didn’t.”

“Nope.” Your grip on his hand tightens, but your man doesn’t pull away. Even so, you allow your thumb to sweetly caress along the ridges of his knuckles. “I stayed wide awake for what felt like hours just…listening. Listening as the wind picked up, as the thunder got louder and louder. Until it became so loud that it sounded like the storm was happening right above our house. And then suddenly there was this crash that shook the entire house – almost like a bomb went off.”

“Listen, I know sometimes storms can seem–”

“It was a tree.” You quietly forge on. “The storm had knocked down a tree. It fell through the roof, into the room I shared with my sister. Of course nobody was hurt, but ever since then I’ve been terrified of thunderstorms.” You finish, somehow feeling even more foolish than when you’d first started.

“Holy shit.” Andy exhales before briefly nuzzling your nose with his own. It was a simple stress touch, nothing more. But at this particular moment, it means everything. “I mean, I’m sure this probably goes without saying, but I’m so glad you weren’t in there when it happened. You or your sister.”

Wordlessly you nod, still wishing that you’d found a way to make it home tonight after all. Come tomorrow you’d finally bite the bullet and start looking for a therapist. Perhaps it was finally time you found a way to move past some of your childhood trauma. And maybe then–

Your thoughts are interrupted by the deep, rich timbre of Andrew Barber’s voice.

“I’m afraid of clowns.” Your boyfriend grunts in a very matter of fact tone. “And spiders.” He tacks on with a slight grimace. “Can’t get near either one of them without breaking into hives.”

“Oh.” Is all you can manage, clearly surprised by his sudden openness. You hadn’t been expecting that at all. “So I‘m guessing anything to do with Pennywise is probably – ahh shit!” You cry out when the familiar sound of thunder makes you lose your train of thought, leaving you unable to finish your small attempt at humor.

Almost immediately, you feel two strong arms band themselves around your waist, drawing you closer even as you try your damndest to scramble away. You throw off the covers before attempting to swing your legs over the side of the bed so that you can make a mad dash in the direction of the basement.

“Hold on, baby.” Andy growls, wincing when your elbow accidentally connects with his ribs. “Just settle down for a second, okay? We’re gonna get through this, I promise.”

“Nope – I’m good! Just let me go, please.” Instead of doing as you ask, he flips your bodies, using his considerable weight to keep you still. “I’m serious, Andrew!” You tell him, thumping his back with your fist for good measure.

“Hush.” He takes advantage of your positions long enough to glide his lips along the column of your throat, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. “Just focus on me – on us – and let everything else fade away.”

Hmph. Easier said than done, handsome.

Andy gifts you with a glimpse of his pearly white teeth before his hungry mouth over your own. He moans into the kiss, gently sucking on your bottom lip and releasing it with a slight pop. When you don’t respond he does it again, this time tracing the curve of your lips with his sinful tongue.

“But what if –.”

“Shh.” Your boyfriend pauses his sensual assault long enough to stare down at you while he braces himself on his forearms. “You have my word that nothing bad is gonna happen while I’ve got you here, with me, in this bed. We’re safe, Baby Girl.” He then angles his head to nip along your jaw. “Let me show you.”

“Do you trust me?” Where had you heard that before?

“I…” You trail off as he continues to nip at your heated flesh, paying special attention to the sensitive shell of your ear. “Y–yes.”

“Good.”

Apparently that’s all the permission Andrew Barber needs, because the next thing you know he’s sliding one large hand up your thigh, his lightly calloused palm sending pinpricks of pleasure straight to your core. Seconds later, you both are treated to the sounds of tearing fabric.

Well, there went your panties. They’d been shredded to hell just like every other pair that went before it.

Next up is your shirt. He manages to whip it over your head with relative ease before resting his delicious weight on top of you once more. Clad in only his boxers, he makes a show of grinding rapidly hardening cock against your damp pussy.

“Andy.” You whine, wantonly arching your hips in time with his thrusts. “Don’t tease me right now.”

“Why not?” He purrs as a hand moves to fist itself in your hair, wrenching your head back with just enough force to make you feel dizzy with lust.

Reaching up, you capture his face between your hands to pull him down for another kiss. The scruff of his neatly trimmed beard feels so good against your skin.

“Fuck me, please.” You hiss, seeking a much needed distraction as a flash of lightning threatens to send you running for the hills. Since this man wouldn’t let you leave, your next best option was to let him bury his thick cock inside you so hard and so deep until you no longer had the capacity to think.

Or walk properly, for that matter.

“Your wish is my command, baby.” Your boyfriend groans as he continues to circle his hips. With that said, he then makes quick work of removing his boxers before tossing him aside in the direction of his hamper. He misses, of course. Which is why you silently vow to pick it up later.

Now freed from its confines, you watch as Andy’s impressive manhood immediately springs to attention, lightly smacking his abdomen as it bobs up and down. Good God, you’d be lying if you said the sight didn’t make your mouth water.

His mouth curves into a roguish grin as he purposely slides himself between your slippery folds. He revels in your wetness, loving the way your slick coats his aching cock. Shit – if he wasn’t careful he risked blowing his load before it was time.

Which absolutely would not work. You always came first. That was the rule. There were no exceptions, unless you were playing a game or something.

Reaching over you, Andy grabs a foil packet from his nightstand. Tearing it open with his teeth, you lean back on your elbows while he handles his business with the condom. Maybe next time he’d allow you to put it on for him. You’d always wanted to try…

“Now, sweetheart.” Your man begins as he takes a hold of your calf, tenderly draping it over his muscled shoulder as the wheel continues to howl outside. “All you’ve gotta do is lay back and focus on how good you feel.” He leans forward so that he can trace his tongue around your nipple before sucking the delicate flesh into his waiting mouth.

Your back bows as you thrust your chest forward in silent offering. Andy groans as continues to toy with your pouting nipple before switching to the other. You let out a sharp cry as he brings the pebbled tip in his mouth, lightly pinching it between his teeth just hard enough to make you writhe beneath him.

That’s part of what always made this feel so good. The way he always seemed to mix pleasure with a little bit of pain.

His mouth eventually finds yours again as your hands smooth their way over the blades of his shoulders, allowing you to run your fingers along his muscles. And when you finally reach the firm globes of his ass, you can’t help but giggle as you finally give into the temptation to smack it. Hard.

Just the way he liked it.

“Remember, sweet brat. If I’m gonna wear your handprint then I think it’s only fair you wear mine too. Understand?” Of course he doesn’t wait for you to answer. Instead he maneuvers himself up so that he can expertly flip you over onto your stomach before pulling you up so that you’re now resting on your hands and knees before him.

Instinctively you arch your ass in the air, inviting him to make good on his promise. This man loved spanking your ass every chance he got. And what’s more, you seemed to enjoy it almost as much as he did.

“Now be a good girl and put your hands where they’re supposed to go.”

A small shiver of anticipation courses through as you move to obey. He chuckles softly as he watches your eager fingers grip the headboard. Later he would tell you how proud of you he was in that moment, that he was honored by your faith in his ability to distract you from the violent storm taking place right outside his window.

It meant the world that you trusted him enough to take care of you at a time like this.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” Andy purrs as the heavy weight of his palm comes down on your upturned rear with just enough force to make your naughty pussy gush. Unable to stop it, you can’t help the groan you emit when he does it again, loving the way he kneads and caresses your most intimate curves.

“So are you.”

Your body jerks when he decides to focus his attention on your greedy little cunt. Nimble fingers spear you open as they between your glistening folds to tease your throbbing clit. It’s not long before your hips begin moving in time with his ministrations.

Soon your eyes flutter close as you bear down, shamelessly grinding yourself against his calloused palm. At first, Andy is content to simply watch as you slowly work yourself into a frenzy.

Because this time, when the sound of thunder crackles throughout the room, you barely react. In fact, you hardly hear it. You’re too engrossed in the pleasure, too caught up in just how good your man is making you feel, to remember to be afraid.

“Easy, greedy girl.” Andy hums after another beat goes by before finally removing his hand. The fucking bastard.

“Nooo!” You whine, hating the way your impending orgasm lingers just out of reach.

‘Yeees.” There’s a slight mocking edge to his tone that has you glancing over your shoulder to shoot him a glare.

“Swear to God ou’re so fucking beautiful. Even when you’re trying to turn me into dust.” He winks at you then before allowing his hands to settle on your hips. Goosebumps pebble across your sweat-dampened flesh when you feel the head of his impressive cock nudge at your entrance.

You weren’t quite sure of exactly when he’d gone and removed his boxers, but you also weren’t complaining either.

“Please.Please.Please.” That one word is whispered over and over, like a fervent prayer.

Just then, a stroke of lightning brightens the room, treating you to a fleeting glimpse of your man right as he thrusts himself inside of you, all the way to the hilt. Your eyes threaten to roll back in your head as he forces you to take every deliciously thick inch of his cock, stretching your tight pussy until you can’t help clench around him.

Andy starts off slow, gradually building up the pace as your velvety walls continue to milk him for all he’s worth. His fingers dig into your curves as you rear back to match his movements. Soon, he adjusts the angle of his thrusts, allowing him to go even deeper.

“S’good, Andy.Fuuuck!” You moan as Andy continues fucking you into oblivion. “Yes!Harder, pleeease!”

“My baby wants it harder?” He growls, adjusting his position to give you exactly what you asked for. A desperate sob bubbles up from your throat, prompting you to bury your face in a nearby pillow.

Too bad your man is having none of it.

“Oh no.” One large hand moves to wrap itself around the delicate column of your throat, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your pulse spike. “You don’t get to hide that pretty face from me. Not tonight.” He grunts before allowing his free arm to encircle your waist to haul you against the hard wall of his chest.

A hand soon finds its way to your breast. He lifts the tempting weight, before plucking at your nipple with his thumb and forefinger, evoking the most exquisite sensations.

“You’re doing so good, Baby Girl.” Andy rasps, tweaking his angle so that he can find your spot. “So good. Told you I’d keep you safe.” The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh echo throughout the room, creating an erotic tempo. “Would never let anything bad happen to you.”

Your boyfriend’s Boston accent grows thicker and more pronounced with each passing second – which lets you know that he’s close to losing control. That’s when you decide to push him closer to the brink by reaching behind you to pull his head down for a kiss. It’s hot, wet, and deep. And by the time you both come up for air your heart is hammering in your chest.

“I…I know.” And you did know.

Tipping your chin back, you allow your walls to flutter around his fat cock, making him twitch. Your core begins to spasm as you feel the coil in your belly tighten even more. Andy makes sure to keep a tight hold on your sweat-slicked body as his lips continue to whisper kisses along the curve of your jaw.

White hot pleasure dances along your skin, meanwhile Andy’s thrusts continue to grow more and more erratic with each passing minute. One of your hands slips from the headboard to help keep you upright.

“Cum, princess. Give it to me.” He snarls through clenched teeth before reaching down to deliver a slap to your pussy. It feels so good that you beg him to do it again and again. “Be a good girl and fucking cum!”

That’s all you need to hear before you go tumbling over the edge and into bliss. “Fuck!Fuck!Fuck!” Ecstasy slices through you, making you cry out loud enough to wake the neighbors. Thank goodness there was a storm going on outside, otherwise someone might’ve taken it upon themselves to call the police.

Chest heaving, you continue bouncing on your man’s cock. He felt so amazing it bordered on obsession. And you knew he’d feel even better once you had him in your mouth. Andy shudders behind you, his big body trembling with the force of his orgasm.

Completely spent, you both flop down on the bed. You’re both naked and sweaty, but neither of you really cares all that much. You curl up in his arms, resting on his chest so that you can listen to the soothing sound of his heartbeat.

“You okay?” Andy murmurs a little while later when he notices that your eyes have begun to droop. “Do you need me to–”

“Mm…” You purr, stretching your arms above your head as you stifle a lawn. “I’m thinking I need some more of that. Like tonight.”

You grow quiet once you realize that you no longer hear the sound of the rain. Or the wind. Or the thunder. All is as it should be. Thank goodness.

“Give me ten minutes to refuel and I’m all yours.” He grunts before disposing of his used condom in a nearby garbage can..

“Thank you.” You mumble, feeling your cheeks heat. “For tonight, for what you did.”

“Not sure if I did much of anything.” Andy smiles down at you, his brilliant blue eyes filled with sincerity. “You’re always safe with me, princess. So just relax.

“I believe you, Andy. But the storm –

“Is about over. We fucked right through it, baby.” You don’t have to look up at him to know that he’s got some kind of shit-eating grin plastered across his handsome features. ‘But most of all, thank you for trusting me with your secret.”

“Thank you for not laughing.“ Your hand reaches up to stroke your knuckles along his bearded jaw.

“Hm.” Andy mutters. “Maybe next time we’ll have to try making love in the rain. What do you think, princess?”

“Um, baby steps, Andrew.” You counter, expertly dodging his first question. “Let’s go smaller. I’m talking waaay smaller.”

“Fine. I’ll settle for a kiss during a light drizzle.” Your boyfriend concedes, laughter and warmth suffusing his tone.

“Consider it done, handsome.” You mumble as sleep threatens to overtake you.

Later, Andy would tell you that he let you fall asleep that night on purpose. Your earlier anxiety had really done a number on you, which is why he was content to let you rest. Instead of complaining, he holds you close, silently willing his heart to beat in time with your own.

And when you wake in the middle of the night, cocooned in the safety of your man’s arms, you know without question that you are cherished beyond measure.

END

#fic rec #currently reading

293 notes · View notes

bluemoon-fever · 1 month

Note

🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a hoe drabble about:

Steve Rogers + flustered + “Here, let me help.”

ahh thank you so much for sending this Siri!! i know i requested a soft prompt, and you delivered, but what i ended up writing isn't all that soft 😅 oops

inappropriate attire

pairing: avenger!Steve Rogers x SHIELD agent!female reader

summary: when you go to confront Captain America about almost blowing your op in Madripoor, you find out Steve Rogers has a problem with your inappropriate attire—and he needs your help to fix it.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, accidental voyeurism, masturbation (m), thigh fucking, piv sex, unprotected sex, teasing, begging, dom/sub undertones, dirty talk, praise kink, captain kink, pet names (sweetheart), coworkers to lovers, protective behavior, little bit of mutual pining

word count: 2.7k

a/n: i swear this was supposed to be a drabble!!! but it got away from me!! i can't be held accountable for what steve rogers inspires me to write 😅 anyway i hope ya'll enjoy!!!

“Hey Cap, do you wanna tell me what the hell was wrong with you tonight—oh god!”

You’d stormed into Steve Rogers’ room at Avengers Tower on a warpath looking to confront Captain America about how he’d almost blown your op. What you’d found had you feeling immediately flustered, your angry words dying a quick death as you took in the sight before you.

It had been a relatively normal day working with the Avengers on an op, one where you got to have an important role in the field. You and Natasha Romanoff had been tasked with going undercover in a club in Madripoor’s Lowtown, looking for a man who could be an informant. The location had necessitated you wear certain attire appropriate for a club, rather than your standard tact suit.

Captain America hadn’t batted an eye when Nat walked onto the Quinjet in her tight black dress and sky-high heels, but when the man got a look at you—the newbie on the Avengers’ SHIELD support team—a storm cloud had settled over his handsome face. To everyone’s annoyance, nothing anyone said all night could seem to clear it.

The stern captain had barely let you off the Quinjet in Madripoor, complaining that your outfit wasn’t appropriate for the op. When he was overruled by the others, his expression only turned stonier. Steve was short with you all night over the comms, to the point that Nat said something. Not that it helped.

Then, when you’d lured the target into the alley behind the Brass Monkey, Captain America had shown up too early and the guy had nearly gotten away. It was lucky Nat was so good at her job, or else Steve would’ve blown the whole op. Over a simple outfit.

Steve had avoided you the entire flight home and through the debrief, managing to slip away before you’d finished talking to Nick Fury. So you’d gone to his room in the tower, your heels sounding as sharp as gunshots on the tile floor as you charged down the hallway and flung open Steve’s door without knocking.

You didn’t know what you’d been expecting. What you got, however, was an eyeful of Captain America’s cock.

America’s star-spangled man was sitting on the edge of his bed, almost like he’d wanted you to walk in on him jerking off. His suit was still on, but his pants were undone, though only enough to have his cock out. The stiff length was thick and veiny and leaking precum while his broad fist stroked up and down in a mesmerizing motion.

Almost worse than the sight of Captain America’s obvious arousal, though, was the look in Steve’s eyes. They were swimming with desire and guilt and desperate, greedy arousal. And when he got a look at you, recognizing you were in his room, his eyes flared with interest—an interest that had a treacherous warmth blooming in the depth of your core, your fingers tingling with the urge to touch him.

“Here, let me help.” The words blurted from your mouth before you could stop them.

As soon as you heard what you’d said, your eyes widened and both your hands flew to your mouth to cover it. You didn’t even know what you meant by it—at least, that’s what you told yourself.

Acting on instinct, you spun around, shutting the door to the captain’s room, the only thought in your mind that you didn’t want anyone else to walk in on your flustered humiliation. It took you a moment to realize you’d closed yourself inside. With Steve. While he was stroking his cock.

Instead of wondering what instincts you were following exactly, you tried to take a deep, steadying breath. However, your heart was racing in your chest and all you could manage were a couple short pants of air.

When you chanced a glance over your shoulder, you found Steve staring at your ass, his fist still stroking his thick cock. You watched only long enough to see the way Steve’s thumb rubbed over the tip of his cock, gathering his precum and smoothing it down the shaft—all while his eyes stayed fixed on your ass.

You were still wearing the skimpy little club dress you’d donned for the Madripoor op, and you knew the hem was short enough that it barely covered your ass. With Steve sitting on his bed, you suspected he might actually be able to see the curves of your ass, especially given how mesmerized he seemed by the sight.

If you weren’t mistaken, his hand sped up infinitesimally. The knowledge of your situation hit you hard, ricocheting around in your head: Captain America was jerking off to the sight of your ass in your tight little dress. Suddenly, Steve’s grouchiness and overbearing protectiveness during the op made more sense.

Emotion and arousal swirled through your mind, too tangled to make sense of any of it. The warm flush of desire joined the heat of embarrassment that had flooded in when you caught Captain America with his cock in his fist and offered to help. The certainty of him stroking himself to the thought of you was unbearably hot, but he was your captain.

You were so busy trying to talk yourself out of being turned on, that Steve’s question startled you enough to squeak. It took every ounce of your self control not to look over your shoulder again, knowing he hadn’t covered himself up. You weren’t sure what you’d do if you saw Steve’s cock again, but you suspected it would violate some HR regulations.

“What do you need?” Steve asked, his voice so low and gruff it might as well have been the sound of a rockslide—one that was in danger of bowling you over.

Facing the door, dug deep for the anger you’d had when you’d sought out Captain America. It took a moment to find and when you spoke, you spoke to the sleek metal in front of you instead of risking another look at your colleague.

“I need to know what you were thinking tonight, captain,” you forced yourself to say, though there wasn’t nearly as much heat in your tone as you’d wanted. You covered it by sneering his title with as much sarcasm as you could muster. “When you nearly blew the entire op by arriving at my location too early.”

In the silence that followed your statement, you could hear the soft schlick sounds of Steve stroking his cock, using his precum to coat his length and make the slide of his palm easier. Inexplicably, your knees wobbled, threatening to give out and you leaned forward, pressing your hands to the cool metal door as you tried to stay upright.

The sound of shifting fabric and the bed creaking came from behind you, but you didn’t dare look. Steve’s prowling steps were nearly silent; they sounded deafening in your ears. Their only competition was the pounding of your heart and the short, sharp breaths you were desperately pulling in.

One at a time, Steve planted his hands on the outside of yours against the door to his room. The warmth of his body hovered at your back, not touching you, but caging you in all the same. Your breathing sped up as your heart started galloping in your chest. He was so close, but not close enough.

“And I need to know what you were thinking tonight, sweetheart,” Steve rumbled in your ear, mimicking your words and the way you’d sneered his rank. His warm breath ghosted past your cheek, making a shiver skate down your spine. “Wearing a dress like that into a place like the Brass Monkey.”

Steve’s hands on the door curled into fists and he let out a low rumbling sound, almost a growl. All you could do was stand there, caught between Steve and the door—unable to decide whether you wanted to press back into his big, broad body or make a run for it. His next words made your decision for you.

“You shoulda seen the number of guys looking at you, sweetheart,” Steve rumbled. He leaned forward, running his nose along the curve of your shoulder, his teeth catching on the thin strap of your dress and snapping it against you, making you nearly jump out of your skin. “They wanted to bend you over and show you why girls who look like you shouldn’t wear dresses that look like that if they don’t wanna get fucked.”

Before you could bite it back, a whimper of need escaped your lips. The desperate little sound was like a starting pistol piercing through the tension electrifying the air between you and Steve. Unable to stop yourself from showing your captain exactly how much you did want to get fucked, you pushed against the door and shifted your feet until you were pressed flush against Captain America.

Your whole body trembled with desire when you felt Steve’s thick, weeping cock pushing between the plush cheeks of your ass. He was so hot and hard and so close to where you needed him, but still so far away that another desperate whine squeezed past your lips. Shamelessly, you rubbed yourself against Captain America’s cock like a cat in heat, trying to drag him down into the madness into which you’d obviously descended.

Steve let out a sharp breath, his hips rocking reflexively against your ass, meeting your clumsy backward thrusts. His fists pressed into the door, the metal denting under the pressure of his strength. But neither of you could be bothered by the damage, not when every grinding roll of your bodies dragged your dress up inch by inch, until your ass was on full display for Captain America.

Still, Steve held himself back.

If you hadn’t been fully briefed on Dr. Erskine’s super-soldier experiments, you would’ve thought his serum gave Steve superhuman self-restraint, but you suspected that was simply who Steve was. Unfortunately, it was getting in the way of you getting fucked and you needed him to snap out of whatever was holding him back.

“Please, Captain,” you begged, your voice a barely restrained sob as need burned through your veins. Your hands pushed against the door in front of you, until every inch of your back was pressed flush to Steve’s front, the rough texture of his suit dragging against so much of your soft skin. And yet it still wasn’t enough. “Please show me why a girl like me shouldn’t wear a dress like this.”

Another rough, rumbling sound came from Steve’s chest, the vibrations of it reverberating down your spine and settling heavily between your thighs. Your core already pulsed with desire, but that sound—like Steve was coming undone at the seams—made you hotter and needier than you’d ever been before.

“Feeling needy, sweetheart?” Steve asked in a mocking tone, capturing both your wrists together, pinning them to the door with one hand while the other began roaming all over your body, groping your tits, plucking at your hardened nipples, before skimming down to press on your lower belly. The pressure of his hand only emphasized how empty you were, and you gasped.

“Yes, Steve,” you cried, squirming in his hold to grind against his cock.

Steve shifted back, then slid his cock between your thighs, the hard length of him rubbing against your sensitive folds through the thin fabric of your panties. He grunted, kissing down your neck and nipping at the curve of your throat with his teeth.

Your head dropped back against Steve’s shoulder as a lewd, low moan spilled from your mouth. He was so close, so so close to driving inside you—just the barest scrap of fabric preventing you from feeling his cock against weeping pussy—but instead he fucked your thighs slowly, torturously.

“Good,” he growled in your ear, his breath hot and harsh against your cheek. “Now you have an idea of how I felt all night having to watch you in that dress.” Using his hand to arch your body the way he wanted, Steve snapped his hips forward, just brushing against your clit, giving you barely a taste of what you needed.

“Ca-captain,” you whimpered in between panting breaths. Your body was trembling so hard with need, you’d have been worried you’d shake right out of Steve’s hold if he wasn’t pinning you so firmly to the door and his body. Your head spun with desire, and you were desperate for Steve to fill up your aching hole, so you babbled whatever you thought he wanted to hear. “I’m sorry, I won��t wear this dress again—I promise.”

Steve chuckled, the sound low and sinful against the skin of your neck. “Careful, sweetheart,” he murmured mockingly in your ear, “You’re sounding desperate to get fucked.”

“I am,” you sobbed, pushing back against Steve, meeting his thrusts as he continued fucking your thighs. Between your arousal and his precum, your legs were a mess, but you didn’t care, you just wanted more. “Please, captain, please fuck me.”

“Christ,” Steve cursed, his hand flexing against your hip as his hips jerked forward. Then he growled as he tore your panties from your body, shredding the fabric like it was nothing. “Since you’re so needy,” he growled, lining up the head of his cock with the dripping hole of your pussy. You could hear the smirk in his voice as he echoed your words from earlier, “Here, let me help.”

With one forceful thrust, Steve buried his cock in your aching cunt, the sudden stretch of him filling you so wholly making you scream. His pleasured grunt was loud in your ear, the sound dissolving into a low groan as your inner walls squeezed and fluttered around his hard length. He felt so good, so perfect, like he was meant to be inside you, and you wanted to be impaled on Captain America’s cock forever.

Steve held himself inside you for a long, glorious moment, then his hand slid from your hip to between your thighs. His fingers found your slippery clit and rubbed the tight little bud in lazy circles that had pleasure coiling tightly in your core.

“Mm, ‘m not gonna last long, sweetheart,” Steve rasped in your ear, his confession somehow pushing you even closer to the edge. “Been thinking about sinking into this pussy all night and it’s better than I imagined,” he confessed, pulling his cock from your grasping channel before shoving back inside.

He started rubbing your clit faster as he fucked you with hard, firm thrusts that had you gasping and crying out for more. The pleasure was too overwhelming to speak, all you could manage were desperate moans and pitiful cries, your hips pushing back into Steve’s as he buried his hard length inside you over and over again.

“So you’re gonna come on your captain’s cock, and let me fill you up,” Steve went on, his voice growing rougher and deeper until it was little more than a growl in your ear. The deepness and fervor of his tone made your body tremble even more in his arms. “And then we’re gonna talk about what constitutes as appropriate attire on team ops.”

A strangled sound of agreement slipped from your lips as your eyes rolled back in your head. Steve pounded into you, rubbing your clit until the coil of pleasure in your core snapped and unraveled, dragging you under a riptide of ecstacy when you came on Captain America’s cock. Spurred by your clenching inner walls, Steve came with a loud groan, burying his cock deep in your pussy and filling you up with his come.

True to his word, you and Steve talked about what counted as appropriate attire on Avengers ops—while he cleaned you up and helped you slip into bed with him. However, the agreement the two of you came to wasn’t that you’d never wear revealing clothes on ops again. Instead, you both agreed that you could wear whatever you thought was necessary for the op, and Steve would do better to keep his desire and protectiveness under control.

At least, until he got you back to his room in Avengers Tower. Then, Captain America could show you exactly what your inappropriate attire did to him—and Steve would make sure you enjoyed every minute of the consequences.

#fic rec #currently reading #🫨🫨🫨

386 notes · View notes