strawbeariediary

[strawbeariediary]

— ❝ 𝐁𝐄 𝐁𝐀 𝐃𝐀 𝐃𝐎 𝐁𝐄 ❞

summary: you return to the city that raised you and help make dinner for the man that claims your heart.

pairings: friends with benefits!carmen berzatto × fem!mena!reader

genre: friends to benefits to lovers. wordcount: 1.6K

warnings: steamy moments but no smut. cursing. small talk of cultural differences. handjob mention. nicknames: “bear” and “clem”. reader is a food critic. mentions of death, generational trauma, anxiety, and stress. a lot of food talk. past friends with benefits sort of thing.

w. note: so i’m officially a carmy whore, that’s what’s new. reader is from middle eastern north african decent. anyway make sure to read, reblog and give feedback. muah!

Be ba da do be; a man loves a woman, the woman loves a man.

“It was a hand job, Carmy. I remember it and so do you, you were dazed as fuck for two hours straight on the drive home and my wrist was sore as shit.”

God how he missed her and her tease, more than how he missed the supercut memories of Chicago that lulled him to sleep when he was homesick in New York.

“Clem,” the nickname zesty, tangy, and sweet in his mouth just like the effects of a slice of clementine on his tongue. “I was dazed for an hour at max, the bottle you coerced the waiter to give you just aided in getting me wasted.”

A stream of laughter flows out of her mouth, her teeth gleaming in a smile that is nothing but contagious as she begins to remember more of that summer night she and him spent downtown.

“Sure, baby sure. Go play innocent Carmy on me, it’s not going to work though cause my memories not shit.” shaking her head, throwing in a liberal amount of garlic on the yellow zucchini, roasted butternut squash and sliced red onion soaking in a pot of melty butter.

Be ba da do be, the man grins a smile he doesn’t know he could manifest but knows well it’s the cause of the woman.

The kitchen is clouded in a variety of smells, from the sweet squashes cooking to the spiced yogurt marinated lamb chops searing and the sourdough rising. Sounds hit each other’s ears in a symphony of roaring laughter, loose footsteps following the groove of the stereo, and the music of food cooking a dinner that will fill their hearts before their stomachs.

Carmen looks at her, really taking a good look at her. Because he feels the heavy ache in his belly strengthen, that ache that simultaneously goes along with the fluttery excitement of seeing, hearing, feeling somebody you care in a long time. It’s making his heart hungry, he never felt this hunger in a while.

The feeling is brightening up his face like a runny egg yolk, pigmenting it with a cherry blush when she grabs him by the back of his head to try the sauce coated on her wooden spoon. Cherry-colored like the filling of Marcus’s doughnuts, making him see stars the same color as the icings when she whispers the lyrics of the playing song in his ear.

The details of the occasion where written and sealed when he sent you a late night voice message after looking through some five year old photographs he had hidden away in three of the cookbooks you gave him for his birthday five years ago. The firecracker of realization striking him that so much time has passed since he was in New York, and you were in Boston.

That hungry sensation scented in a cloud of spices that wrap Carmen’s senses, like a pair of arms that he wants to be within each night. Slow then fast, his chopping escalates then declines as he moves the knife with precision across the cutting board.

Be ba da do be; is the exact pace of his heart thumping in his chest.

It goes along with the movements of her lips and the rain against the kitchen windowsill. Warmth filling his heart, making it rise like the sourdough baking in the oven.

“Carmy?” the approach of her words smooths over to him at the counter, “Yeah y/n/n?” he responds, whisking the dressing of a salad then tasting a bit with his pinky, it’s need some more citrus.

It was a night to make up for a lot of lost time, so the both of you decided on a day to experiment with whatever that was in Carmen’s fridge and you bring whatever the hell that could fit inside your grocery bag.

“Could you hand me three sprigs of rosemary?” his head turn over his shoulder to see her jean clad hips expertly swaying, and moving to the beat of the song.

The exposed skin of her back neck burning a hypnotizing trance in his blue eyes, tightening a knot in his stomach as he licks his lips. He remembers how he used to mark it up with his lips and teeth, leaving behind a trial of blemishes that varied in size and visibility. Carmen manages to snap out of it, dashing his eyes up to her at the stovetop.

Her own eyes stay focused on the sight of onions caramelizing in a sizzling puddle of olive oil, loose curls frame her face as the rest stay in order with the great help of a citrus-colored claw clip. A wooden spoon in one hand as the other motions to the rhythm of the music playing on the old stereo in the living room.

Carmy believes it’s Herb Alpert & the Tijuana Brass because he hasn’t heard the song “Ladyfingers” since she went away to Boston.

“Rosemary? Ah yeah, yeah, I got rosemary.” Carmen's hands quickly steps away from his area of chopping a lemon and squeezing it in the bowl, heading to his spice cabinet where he opens it as he inspects what little contents fill the empty space.

I really need to do some shopping before I think to invite people over for dinner, he thinks before closing it.

“Um no rosemary actually, sorry about that Chef.” he just sees her smirk and turn to grab her grocery tote bag, pulling out a small jar of rosemary sprigs from the endless depth. A magician, truly, Carmen also thinks as he gives her a smile.

“That’s why I come prepared for the worse when I plan to cook with you Chef.” it’s playful and filled with just the right amount of spark he missed, he secretly yearns for more of it just as he wants more of her saffron tinted rose water flavored presence filling the lonely blue void of his soul.

Be ba da do be; the man spills the bottle of memories, letting the nostalgia soak him through.

“Hey y/n.” he mumbles, standing besides her as she spoons the hot liquid butter over the garlic and rosemary sitting atop the seared steaks.

“Hey Carmy.” Her response crisp, her own eyes drifting to his that move away every few seconds and he licks his damn lips.

Fucking fuck, Bear — little thoughts of moisturizing his lips with the birthday-cake flavored chapstick you have on emerge.

“What do you remember from that night?” his voice stitched with curiosity he tries to hide, covering it up by stirring the couscous added to the squashes. Carmen knows the tiny bowl of chopped parsley will be sprinkled on top it after the couscous cooks through.

Internally, the highly acclaimed Chef asks himself why he hasn’t ever asked her out then but that answer always seems to answer itself time and time again when it pops up. Torturing him when he laid in bed thinking about the bike rides through green Orland Park. How they read each other recipes from cookbooks on Chinatown Branches library shelves, kissing behind the coffee shops in Little Palestine.

That time ago, it wouldn’t have happened. No matter how much confidence he harnessed from pep talks with Mikey or just the willpower of adolescent desire. It wouldn’t have happened, in secret was the only way the both could explore the world and each other and even then you both wouldn’t go as far to call it a relationship. Him and her, the two of you, were just too different.

It was hard truth to swallow from the criticisms Carmen got from his family, being so interested in a woman from her culture who wanted to taste food for a living just as much as she got backlash from her family for being interested in a white guy who wanted to cook for a living.

“I think we have some polar opinions on what happened that night. But we both know it was your bright idea to convince me to skip my afternoon course and drive downtown with you.” her accent slips into your words formally and naturally.

Carmy loves it when that happens, because she can’t control it one bit. The y/n he knew five years ago used to be so overtly embarrassed of it but now, she doesn’t mind it showing whatsoever.

“You’re right, I remember that part of the night crystal clear.” he tags along to this journey back to the past but he’s hoping you’re willing to talk about what happened late that night.

She smacks his bicep with the back of her hand and laughs, an aspect of his physique she knows has gained a few muscle that last time she saw him. It’s then did Carmen realize he said that thought aloud and not to himself.

“You know what Bear, you’re a lot more of a pervert then I remember.” She smirks as he begins to pour out apologies for all the faults this night has, from the lack of herbs to his “creepiness”. But to be fair, it’s taking her a severe amount of discipline to not think about other areas that may have changed as she looks at him trying to explain himself.

“It’s not a problem Carmy, I wanted to talk more of that night to. Just wasn’t done talking before you swang in on your boner.” she grins and he just continues to blush and apologize, accepting to laugh along with you and your endless teasing.

“The dumplings you got us were good though, and I didn’t have to subject myself to unnecessary persecution from my professor so that was an added bonus.” you sigh as you wipe a little bit of sweat off your forehead with your hand towel.

The heat from the oven and stove rises the temperature of the kitchen, convincing you to slip out of the thick university sweater that wraps your body up and reveal the deep richness of your exposed skin the short tank top provides.

“And I liked the fact that it was me and you. Just us walking through the city and catching a late night movie.” and simultaneously you both think back on his lips hungrily devouring yours and your hands unzipping his pants in the shadowy dark of the theatre.

Be ba da do be; the woman doesn’t know why she feels a pain in her heart but she hopes the man can help relive it.

Carmen nods along — I haven’t forgotten that night. I don’t wanna forget how you made me feel because I feel like I’ve forgotten you.

He couldn’t think of the name of the movie that was playing even if it could save him, and why would he want to be saved? His mind floods of memories of that night with his hands in your hair, your hand playing with his hard cock, and his lips hidden in your neck as he tried to maintain his moans by bitting down and sucking on your skin.

Cool air hits your skin but you feel a burn, something similar to the swelter of something hot to your senses but without the sting. Carmen can’t tear his eyes away, even when the pans of food are under his mercy he can’t help them because he’s under the mercy of your figure swaying under his kitchen lights.

You’re crazy, you’re driving me crazy and you’re enjoying it, Carmen thinks as he leans his weight against the countertop, unashamedly enjoying the show before him.

The pure gold plate of your name in Arabic winks at him as it lays comfortably on your exposed cleavage. Bare waist moving softly then strongly like the waves of a tide, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. It unleashed another memory of playing near the Pierre, the water that night reflecting off the moonlight as his hands slipped into her underwear, massaging her wetness and bringing it up to his lips to taste her for the first time.

Her eyes meet Carmy’s for a second, his face deep pink like the juice of a raspberry before he turns away with an apology.

Enjoying the view? — is what you want to say but you find yourself a little flustered to tease him — because he looks so fucking good.

The veins running from his hands to his forearms popping here and there with his tight grips and motions. The black ink of his tattoos strained through the muscle of his skin it’s making you hot all over. You’re drinking him in, practically thinking of him fucking you while you try to look anywhere else besides his strong nose or shoulders.

“Do you ever think that you’re using a bit too much onion and garlic in your dishes? It smells damn good but I can immediately tell which plate of food is yours from a hundred just from the onion to garlic content and ratio.”

Carmen means it in the most politest manner and he tries and fails to keep back a laugh when you give him your signature questionable look that is ingrained in your family.

“Is that your nice-guy way of saying i’m predicable Carmy? That I’m some sort of onion and garlic addict? Well listen Carmy, I can’t help it, onions and garlic are my love language. The more I love a person the more I use them.”

“You must love me a whole lot then ‘cause my apartments gonna be smelling like ‘em till next month.” he laughs and she giggles while shrugging her shoulder in agreement then taking her squash couscous and braised lamb chops to the little table in the corner of his kitchen.

“Sorry Carmen, I hope you don’t mind it. I mean I just moved back here and i’m already etching myself on you. How is the restaurant doing?” her words soft and gentle, her eyes etched on Carmy’s back, her heart pausing when he stops whatever he was doing to turn around and look at her.

“No no I don’t mind it. It means a lot for you to be here, I’m glad I called you. I, I really missed seeing you, talking to you.” Carmen assures, he doesn’t want to have her walk on eggshells around him, he already cleared everything up with her about Michael and doesn’t want the tension to resurface.

It was great that you two had a lot to talk about but the generational trauma of both your families anxieties and stresses wasn’t a light subject that you both are eager to dive into.

Be ba da do be; the man plays at the strings of his heart, grateful to know they still create the same ballad that plays when the woman’s near.

“And the restaurant is going great. We’re still experimenting with a new menu. I have to talk to some contractors and designers for the layout tomorrow.” she nods along, a little seed of happiness for him growing fast. Growing green veins that wrap around the vesicle of her heart, like a second skin she didn’t know she shed once she stopped talking to her old dear friend.

“I’m happy for you Bear. It all has lead up to this huh?” the twinkle in her eyes glisten, giving him a quick wink that makes him do a mental double take.

Carmen watches her pour her standard household amount on both of their plates and sprinkle it lightly with parsley. The candle in the middle of both your dishes was lite, only she’s not the one that light but him earlier that night.

“Yeah, yeah really it has.” Carmen can’t tear his eyes away from hers, “You know, if you’d like you could drop by tomorrow. You could try this new dessert Marcus is whipping up, I have this ah—” Carmy’s hand lifts up to scratch his head, his eyes roaming from her lips to her nose to the earrings that hang from her ears.

Everywhere before swimming in the soft intensity of her eyes, licking his lips when her lashes shut her eyes for a second before opening them to reveal the intensity of them again.

“This dish, that I’m working on. It has a some uh, you know you could see what I’m talking about band try it out. Only if you want to, you know.” Carmen explains, now looking at you after taking the sourdough out of the oven and playing with the gorgeous brown crackly surface.

“Oh I know, maybe I do want to drop by tomorrow.” her tone is making his head spin, a dozen of ideas for new dishes coming to mind that he wants her to try. Each step she takes closer to him makes his heart pound a new beat, he wishes the smell of her perfume would stay present.

“And you know, maybe you could go easy on me and my crew to. I know how offended you critics can get when you don’t like what the Chef serves up.” Carmen whispers, he doesn’t need to raise his voice with her face inching so close to his.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go more than easy on you Bear. You don’t have to worry about that.” She whispers back, he breaks from his reserved space to inch closer. Admiring the shape of her lips, imagining how soft and warm they feel.

“Then what should I worry about, sweetheart? Should I worry about your daddy? Or your mama? Or my mom? I don’t really care about them right now. I don’t care because they don’t matter.” all forms of fear and hesitancy are thrown out the window and into the rainy night.

“Stop fucking around and tell me what you’re trying to say Carmy.” he sees the watery glint in her eyes, regret rises in his chest as his throat goes dry.

It isn’t fair, it isn’t fair how he’s letting the fears that prevented him from loving her then keep him from loving her now.

When Carmen thought of Chicago when he was in New York he thought of his family, his childhood, his food, and her. Any image of her just is associated with a feeling of regret of what could have been. He just wants to know if she feels that to, and if she doesn’t want to live in that stage of regret anymore.

“I’m saying that maybe we don’t have to feel scared anymore because there’s nothing to be scared of. You know I’ve— I’ve always loved you. I was stupid then to not have told you that but I’m telling it to you now.” he stops talking to take a good look at her, vulnerability spread on every feature of his face.

“What should I be worried about now? There isn’t a single thing I wouldn’t do for you.” he whispers, grasping her face in his hands to keep her avoiding glance to his.

In that action, his nose touches hers, the warmth of her lips seems to radiate against his mouth, her loose curls and his blonde strands of hair touch and twine together. Her hands touch his that still cup her cheeks and she holds the nose of his neck and pulls him to her.

Be ba da do be; they kiss and fill up that space of feeling they never felt but so desperately wanted.

“There better be plenty of onions and garlic in that special dish of yours tomorrow Chef.” y/n lightly demands, taking his mouth to hers again when he decides to lick his damn lips again.

A smirk spreads on Carmen’s face as he kisses back, it was so typical you to make him fall harder with her weird preferences, if that was possible.

“Trust me sweetheart, there’ll be more than enough.” he whispers against her lips, tasting the cake flavored chapstick she had on. “The whole blocks gonna know how much I love you.”

They can’t help the laughter that escapes them, her fingers tangled in his hair whilst he laughs into the crook of her neck. A new ache fills their chests after they come down from their giggles and smiles, but it’s an ache they’re willing to protect and nurture.

Be ba da do be; the man loves the woman and the woman loves the man.

[strawbeariediary]

hey hey sweethearts! i don’t think it matters if anyone sees this because I have been absent for so long but there’s a little message on how things are going to go from now on this blog. keep reading if you’re interested.

I just want everyone to know that it will be a rare case if I keep writing on here. it’s not a bad thing though! and it isn’t because I don’t like writing anymore either but it’s the reason as to why I wrote the stories I did. writing fanfic has been amazing but it was a mechanism for me to cope with my anxiety and trauma. since i’m in a better headspace and sought help I feel healthier and much happier than before. i’m planning on reblogging stories from my friends and others i’ve been tagged in. I love you all so deeply, thank you for taking this journey with me as I wrote. I won’t ever forget about any of you. 💗

[strawbeariediary]

‧₊˚➛ 𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐄’𝐒 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐄

━━━━━‧₊˚➛ Follow this thrilling series featuring y/n l/n and her boyfriend, Hayden Hutchinson through the eyes of a video camera. Watch as their relationship blossoms and the porn tapes hidden in their bedroom shelves grow in quantity and quality.

pairing ‧₊˚➛ hayden hutchinson (harvard hottie) x woc!reader

disclaimers ‧₊˚➛ 18+ content, read my statement here. this series has explicit content (smut) in every chapter so I do not feel comfortable for minors interacting with my work. respect my wishes, happy reading to those who follow and respect my rules.

‧₊˚➛ COLLECTION ONE

TAPE ONE ➛ smile for the video camera.

TAPE TWO ➛ kiss me through the screen. — premiering on Jan 18th at a theatre near you!

TAPE THREE ➛ our panasonic paradise.

TAPE FOUR ➛ pink diamond in the dark.

TAPE FIVE ➛ 3, 2, 1… and we’re live.

TAPE SIX ➛ my own michelangelo.

TAPE SEVEN ➛ collection finale.

COLLECTION TWO

undecided.

m.masterlist. · library acc. · my taglist.

[strawbeariediary]

𝒎𝒊𝒄𝒖𝒍 𝒍𝒐𝒓 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑙𝑦.

summary: being pietro maximoff’s and johnny storm’s butterfly is a life of bliss and sin, particularly when they’re punishing you.

pairing: avenger!pietro maximoff × avenger!woc!reader. avenger!johnny storm × avenger!woc!reader. pietro maximoff × johnny storm. word count: 3.6K

warnings: 18+ nsfw || smut. reader is a mutant with butterfly wings but her other powers are unspecified. fingering. eating out. dirty talk. bratty!reader. poly relationship. mlm dynamics. pussy slaps. petnames: “butterfly” & “sweet thing”. praise + degradation. jealous!johnny and posessive!pietro. poor joaquín is dragged into this. daddy kink. pillow humping. minors dni

w. note: this is absolutely filthy and I don’t regret writing it whatsoever. hope you cherubs enjoy reading and reblog, i’d appreciate it very much. <33

contents: masterlist. library acc. taglist.

The delicate music of their butterflies moans plays softly, harmonizing well with the low whispers that make the fruit in between her thighs weep.

It was a certain pleasure they grant, exploring the plains of her body to attain what new torment could make her shiver and whimper as she drowns herself in the sheets of egyptian cotton.

For they knew her like the back of their hands, they knew every birthmark on her skin and every pattern on her pretty wings hidden underneath the skin of her back.

It was a certain pleasure she took, being ravished aggressively by them both, just on the account that she decided to dance and linger with everyone besides them. Playing the role of an unowned brat which isn't the case because everyone nowadays gossips that she belongs to the hearts of Quicksilver and The Human Torch.

Being their butterfly means savoring the moments where anger and lust cloud your boyfriends heads and actions.

Alluring a wicked kind of joy in witnessing the pretty azure of Johnny’s irises transform into a sea of fire when your tongue speaks flirtations to the amused Black Widow and wishful Winter Soldier.

Taking you sweet time to relish the form of Pietro’s jaw clenching and dark brows furrowing sharply, examining your promiscuous figure that gifts The Falcon prolonged caresses on his chest and shoulders.

Performing such a provocative play only meant to entertain your two lovers, they don’t interrupt your performance. Due to knowing that you are one hell of an actress and a social butterfly. Fluttering your hued wings through the Upper East Side, from cocktail parties to charitable galas, attracting lovers and admirers in your wake.

Of course there were the casual ass grabs from Pietro, whispering in your ear in Sokovian to stop your spoiled behavior while Johnny grabs your chin and crashes kiss after kiss to show any lurking eyes who you belong to.

But all three receive an immense pleasure in seeing how much you could take: of their fingers, their tongues, their cocks. Until the holes they lavish pleasure on can’t take anymore and you're screaming their names begging them for no more.

However, tonight, you don’t have a voice. There was no pity or mercy being graced upon you, not after the scene you played out that pulled you into this punishment.

The punishment being you lying naked on Johnny’s chest, ass up with his fingers relentlessly pumping in and out of your hole, clenching and letting go around this thick widths. The Torches other hand is dedicated to kneading your ass and slapping your hands away when the pleasure of being stuffed with him becomes too much that you're trying to pull his hands away.

“You’re fuckin’ soaked sweet thing. Did you get this wet when you kissed him? I bet you did butterfly. And do you know what I think… I bet you let him touch your l cunt to.”

Those vulgar words have you weeping and whining into his neck. The answer is you shaking your head passively, you would never do that.

“Sunetele tale sunt atât de frumoase, fluture, dar nu sunt răspunsuri.” — your sounds are so beautiful, butterfly, but they aren’t answers.

Pietro murmurs into your folds, the tip of his tongue outlining your anatomy in such a way that makes tears bloom like spring rain from your eyes.

“Baby, give me a taste.” Pietro, who lies in between Johnny’s legs rasps in which the playboy superhero agrees by slipping his fingers out of your channel.

Drenched with your honey from his rosy fingertips to his knuckles, Pietro takes Johnny's wrist and opens his mouth to lick up the saturation on the two fingers.

The little moment of peace for your core is a relief, listening to the music box of Johnny’s ripe mouth blossoming little groans. All because Pietro is sucking down and wrapping his tongue around the digits.

A little moan escapes you when Pietro’s thumb gently rubs at your labia, something so tender that you appreciate. Although, you let out a sharp squeal when he brings a rough hand down onto your honeyed slit.

“Our little butterfly seems to have forgotten who she gets to kiss and who gets to play with her cunt. What should we do to teach her a lesson?” Pietro's mouth runs as he keeps up with the slaps.

Some spanks so quick that you can’t catch your breath and some leaving you digging your nails into Johnny's shoulders in anticipation of them. Little dewdrops of sweat drip down your back and Johnny’s heat seems to evaporate them.

“I think we should keep spanking her poor pussy till she speaks up. It’s one thing that she kissed some boy and let his hands under her dress but another to think that we wouldn’t do a damn thing about it.”

Johnny snaps, his hands that are above normal temperature slapping down on your ass with a hiss, watching fascination as it bounces to just do it again.

“C’mon my beautiful fluture, why did you kiss him? Do you enjoy getting yourself in trouble?” Pietro’s voice, which is usually so sweet and tender when he speaks to you, is rough and low.

Both of their large hands continue to give you rough spanks on your clit and ass, not giving you a moment in between to answer. One Johnny’s hold on you keeps you from squirming away but it isn’t until Pietro starts scissoring your cunt suddenly that you yelp at the overwhelming pleasure.

“I just wanted to see you two get angry! Please, I didn't think but I promise I can be good!” you're crying out and it makes Pietro rudely coo at you.

The sound that usually gives you comfort now makes your face heat up in embarrassment. A dripping wet mess you’ve become on Johnny’s lap but the wet sounds of your squelching pussy go heavenly with their dark laughter.

“Answer the question and we’ll stop.” Johnny hums in your ear, his hands gripping at your peach ass till you feel his heat overpowering the aloe vera he rubbed on you to protect your soft skin.

“No! I didn’t let him touch my pussy! I promise I didn't, Daddy!” you cry into the warmth of his neck, so toasty that it comforts you yet remains a burning sensation that makes you fear that Johnny’s flame will devour you.

How your lust for them will eat you alive.

Pietro’s slaps finally cease; finishing off with a gentle rub that soothes your cunt. Retrieving the aloe vera ointment by the night stand, he rubs the cool cream on your puffy folds and asscheeks imprinted with Johnny’s hands.

A smirk is painted on the Sokovians lips when you hum at the cool feeling, not knowing that he is simply preparing you for what’s going to happen next.

But what exactly did you do that led to this scene? Before Pietro lays you down on your back, and his and Johnny’s bodies are on each of your sides. Struggling to keep up with their kisses as they help each other strip from their clothes.

Well, just retain this. It’s a knack for the three lovers to make the morning headlines and cityscape gossip with their habit of thinking without punishment. Just as it is a knack for you three to leave the party early on the account of either you misbehaving, Johnny getting recklessly drunk or Pietro having enough of the pretentious conversations.

All because you three were Avengers and had to obtain a perfect image, you three were starting a new team of young heroes destined to fight and vanquish all the wrong in the world. Although tonight there seemed to be no wrong to cutthroat, yet.

Tonight you were a perfect image. A silk number the color of sultry candle-wax contrasted lusciously against your skin and struck divinely against the bright lights of crystal chandeliers and paparazzi flashes. Leaving everyone helplessly speechless when you arrived showcasing your butterfly wings, as if the wide and vivid pennons were simple accessories to your outfit.

It’s a knack their butterfly has, to make an entrance and sneak glances at curious strangers with eager eyes from across ballrooms. Tempting anyone who comes across the curve of your smile and the shiny colors of your wings, be tempted once again to see it once more in utter fascination.

Johnny doesn’t like that, he doesn’t like how flirtatious you made everything be but you told him with a givenchy gloss kiss to his cheek that “butterflies don’t like being kept in glass jars”, and he sighed an apology to you.

Their butterfly made the hearts that fell too easily in love become hopelessly lost in the constellations of your cruel games. It made the hearts who kept a golden cage to protect theirs to open, just to pursue you.

Pietro doesn’t like that, he doesn’t like how bratty you could be, especially at social events like these hosted by none other than Tony Stark. However, with a caress of his scuffled cheek you told him that you were innocently just “spreading my wings tonight”, and he obeyed your reasoning.

Although you wanted to upset them, get them the type of frustrated that resulted in them holding your waist close to their side in a possessive manner. To give you those icy glares that made your stomach knot and knees shake but still motivated you to keep misbehaving till they gave you what you want.

Although, tonight, suppose you did take it too far.

On the other hand, it isn’t necessarily your fault that you wanted to talk to Joaquín Torres. The aspiring Redwing and young apprentice to the notorious Falcon possessed an innocent twinkle in his large coffee hues that just intrigued you, his smile so sweet and dear that he made everything he smiled at seem holy and pure.

“You look beautiful tonight. Not just tonight but every- every single time I see you you just become more breathtaking.” he told you, his voice shy and unaware of two men glaring at him from across the room filled with politicians, superheroes and ambassadors.

“Thank you Joaquín, every time I seem to talk to you, you always say sweeter things than before.” a bat of your lashes and a trail your hand from his strong forearm to his bicep, creating a flustered and crooked smile to manifest on Joaquín's face.

The red rose color painted on your manicured nails compliments his dewy olive complexion when your hand holds his cheek. His own hands ask to touch the colors on your wings you allow him, but not before pressing a kiss to the dimple of his smile.

Johnny and Pietro watched from afar, studying you as you kissed who Tony and Steve mentioned is the newest addition of your tea. A giggle escaped your lips when the superhero blushed a color three times deeper than the pink carnations and pomegranate blossoms that decorate the room.

Brutal flames of jealousy nipped at Johnny’s heart, the collar of his blazer crackles with sudden fire when he begins to overheat in anger. Pietro’s mind rushes kilometers of thoughts, all aimed to motivate him to shove the young Avenger off you and take three home within a quick leap of time and super speed.

And it broke them from their placed stages when you took Joaquín’s hand and led him out of the room, your lingering touch guiding his hand near the risqué slit of your dress. Smiling when there weren’t any eyes following you both except for two familiar glares, you simply just wanted to get to know the man.

That is you would have before their towering shadows covered your bare shoulders, Johnny’s heat sent waves of warmth courser up and down your body as Pietro held an arm around your waist.

“What do you think you’re doing, butterfly?” Pietro spoke in his thick accent, his voice so low in his throat it made precious Joaquín to stop holding your hand and desert to conversation you both were having.

“I was just getting to know the newest member of our team. Everyone says he’s filled with many promises and potential.” you simply answered with the flutter of your wings, rolling your eyes when Pietro pulls you away.

“Wait, the rumours are true? You three are a couple?” Joaquín stammers, his blush that hasn’t gone away the moment you kissed the corner of his lips still flowered his face.

“One way or another you were gonna come to that conclusion once we start working together, bird boy.” Johnny rolled his eyes and you felt guilty for bringing Joaquín under their daggers but you simply give him another kiss on the cheek and an apology.

“I’m sorry about them. I’ll see you at training tomorrow, Joaquín.” you perk, nonchalant despite Pietro and Johnny brewing as they hold your hands, leading you out to leave.

“If you guys are looking for a fourth partner-”

“In your dreams, bird brain!” Johnny and Pietro shout behind their shoulders and while they get you into the taxi, you can sense the punishments beginning to manifest once the cab door closes.

Which leads you here in the present. Whimpering as Johnny and Pietro switch positions from sucking on your tits and fingering your tight walls, to sucking the slick at the roof of your pussy and flicking their tongues at your labia.

“Fuck, sweet thing. I can feel your button twitchin’ under my fingers.” Johnny’s lips are rosy pink and they’re bruising your mouth with a delicious burn, you can’t help but moan into his kiss.

“Johnny, please! Everything hurts all over, please make it better!” the tears that roll down your cheek only inflate the blond’s ego further. Pulling away from your melon glossed lips to lick and kiss each blotchy river and dewdrop off.

“You want me to make it better, butterfly? I don’t think I want to, you shouldn’t have acted like a needy whore and kissed Joaquín.” Johnny hummed, loving the way your nails scratch his scalp but loving the idea of tying your hands together even more.

“You set yourself up for failure when you let him touch you between these legs, you have him thinking that he had a chance to touch you. But that itself is stupid, sweet thing, thinking that he could play with this cunt and please it better than we can.”

The growl against your mouth makes you whimper, Johnny’s fingers tease your button and your wetness practically slicks his digits in generous coats of arousal with his rubbing motion. Soothing the burn his seething hands have spread with his sharp and quick slaps against your honeyed folds.

Johnny takes his fingers and suck on them, humming at the sweet and tangy taste of you that he could never get enough of. “You we’re gonna let that bird boy get a taste of you? Let him make out with your pussy like you let him with your fucking mouth?”

Johnny doesn’t let you answer before he’s snatching his lips away again to grab a handful of Pietro’s hair. The little noise of pleasure that escapes the speed manipulating hero sends heat south to you and Johnny’s bloodstreams.

Johnny pulls him into a kiss and you never felt your mouth become so cold, so cold without the tempting warmth of Johnny’s tongue and Pietro’s finger. It has you whining for kisses but they simply shut you up with a pussy spank. Pulling away with a wet smack, the gentlemen with traces of starlight in his hair fulfills your kiss craving.

“Do you like disobeying us? Did you have your fun? Spune-mi adevărul, fluturele meu.” — tell me the truth, little butterfly.

Pietro hums into your mouth and you can taste the spearmint and apricot schnapps off his tongue you know drove you and Johnny crazy.

Pietro’s feigned gentleness comes with a bite in his thick accent, his demand still fluttering in your ear.

It’s hard for you to speak up on your truth, with Pietro’s tongue flicking at your nipples as he gets his face full of your tits. Making you sing those lewd songs filled with nothing but your moans, whimpers and gasps Pietro would record and listen to when he’s on missions away from you.

Johnny’s talented tongue laps and licks your saturation till his lips wrap sucking down on your clit till your back arches and your thighs wrap dangerously around his neck.

“What if I don’t wanna tell the truth? What fucking then?” there's too much spark in your voice, Johnny and Pietro have been denying you oragsm after orgasm and you might be breaking your record the last time you misbehaved, that being just a week ago.

“Then this pathetic pussy doesn’t get to cum, fluture.” Pietro flares and he grabs at his hard cock, pumping it slowly up and down for you to see and acknowledge what you’re missing out on if you’d stopped being a brat.

The sight has you pouting, a big fat one that Pietro slaps with the tips of his fingers. The action makes you hold onto his bicep of the arm that securely is wrapped around your waist, but no matter how much you hold on he’s still going to give a patronizing coo as he jets off fast and rubs his precum on your lips.

“Don’t you dare steal a taste. Fetele bune răspund și sunt răsplătite, fetele rele nu primesc decât bătăi de păsărică.” — good girls listen and get rewarded, bad girls get nothing but pussy spanks.

Pietro’s white wolf teeth bite at the plumpness of your cleavage before his swift hand that is covered in his pre cum slaps your chest. Smirking with a pleased demeanor as he watches your tits now shiny with his slick bounce.

Oh you are so so fucking close to breaking at those words, and the fact that your walls begin to squeeze around Johnny’s tongue isn’t helping your act on acting like they aren’t winning the battle.

Heavy raindrops of tears drip down the canvas of your face silhouetted by the low light of the candle burning close by, heavy moans and the heavy sounds of sex drip and echo across the four walls of your bedroom.

“That’s no! Not fair-”

Johnny smirks at your stammers and you can feel the heat of it in your inner thigh, Pietro’s tongue licks your lip, enjoying your sweet moans and the taste of himself when Johnny’s tongue becomes persistent in spreading your walls open.

“Poor little butterfly, you can’t handle this torment can you? Poor thing, should’ve known better than to get caught in a net.” the man with starlight hair patronizes as he holds your chin to make you watch him get himself off.

His rosy tip burning red and you wish you could suck on it and taste the salty and familiar taste of Pietro. “N-no! I- I’m not- ah!” you squeal and grind your cunt against Johnny’s face from the building pleasure. The knot in your abdomen becoming too much for you to maintain a restrained disposition.

“I don’t think our butterfly has the strength to even open her mouth, Honey. She’s to busy fucking herself on my tongue.” Johnny purrs, his hot hands kneading your ass moisturized in aloe vera and his thumbs spreads your pussy lips wide.

They both take in their little butterfly and how reactive she is, with your head thrown aback as you sigh a mess of Pietro’s and Johnny’s names like a chant. It makes the buzzcut suck down harder while grounding his throbbing cock into the mattress for some relief, knowing you’re close.

Bottom lip trembles and whiny, desperate noises are what make you because it seems your body is betraying you’re need to refrain from their pleasure. Although it’s too hard, their list filled glances are too much, their touches are too precise and their words make you let go so easily.

“I’m sorry! Please, I'm so sorry! I never think before I act and I should know better! I know I’m always acting out but please let me come Daddy! Please I promise I’ll be a good girl for you both!” you sob, your thighs twitching on how painstakingly close you are to spilling your spent

A glimmer of mercy twinkles in their eyes as they share a knowing glance. “Go on little butterfly, come right on his tongue. Give him every drop.” Pietro hums, smoothing your baby hairs from your face as he watches your mouth form that little o that drives them crazy.

“Let me drink you up sweet thing, I want you to let go and give me it all.” Johnny pure as he makes out with your pussy and you let out a hopeless noise as they take you to your high.

It’s almost like your soaring, flying through the clouds and midnight sky crowded with winking stars. The moon so close to you you can feel your kisses of moonlight rays on your skin. They take you high, they bring you to your highest.

It’s when your eyes flutter open so you realize the wings that you’ve hidden besides the bones of your back have emerged free. The wide of them taking up half the length of the bed but your lovers grin at your glowing figure gaining consciousness.

After pouring all your repent spent on Johnny’s tongue, he laps up every drop till he licks your cunt clean of your honey. Although he doesn’t swallow it, he lets the flavor of you soak his tongue as he pulls Pietro by his hair again.

The little noise that flows through his lips once again blesses your ears and you take in the sight of Johnny kissing Pietro with a mouthful of you. Your cum that has filled his mouth slaps between his and Pietro’s tongues and it drips onto his chin, which the Sokovian licks up before they hear your whine.

“I wanna taste myself to.” that they pull away to inch closer to you. Their faces are so close to yours that you close your eyes and pucker your lips, waiting for their three way kiss but Johnny simply slides a finger through your lips to lick on.

“You taste yourself, little butterfly? You taste so fuckin’ good don’t you? Got your Daddies happy sharing to get a taste.” Johnny smirks that just radiates in ego and cockiness when you suck, but Pietro gives you the kiss he knows you’ll start a brat fit over if you don’t get one.

“Now my beautiful butterfly, are you gonna be our good girl and listen to us?” Pietro asks you, his hands cupping your chin while Johnny plays with a lock of your hair.

You nod your head passively, twining your fingers with Johnny’s as he leans to press a kiss on your temple. “Yes, I promise i’ll be a good girl to you both.” your meek voice is prominent to how you've completely submitted yourself to them.

“Good girl, already listening so well. All you have to do is sit on the pillow, butterfly. Can you do that for us?” Johnny speaks as he places a pillow for you to straddle, his hands still stroking your hair then your wings that flap happily from the attention.

“Mhm yes I can. Then what?” you ask, your eyes glossing with lust and wander but utterly unaware of the plans Johnny and Pietro have for you that they share a quick erotic glance at each other.

“You’re gonna watch your Daddies fuck each other, can you do that without grinding your pussy on the pillow, sweet thing?” Pietro questions, kissing your neck before sucking down on the skin.

“Yes, I- I think I can.�� you answer back hesitantly, already feeling the nectar of your flower soaking your petals and it intoxicates Johnny and he wishes he could smell it forever.

“Perfect, butterfly, ‘cause if me or Pietro see you fucking yourself against the pillow you’re not going to come for the rest of the week.”

Johnny voices too softly against your lips that a little sound of confusion bubbles out of you, looking perplexed between your boyfriends.

“Oh little butterfly, don't you understand? You’re not allowed to come anymore tonight. You’re just going to watch as we make each other come. Over and over again.” Pietro explains, drinking in the way your face that has once been painted with pleasure now cracking with sensual despair.

“That’s your punishment for tonight, now be a good girl and sit on the pillow.” Johnny kisses your lips and just like that they both move away from you.

Spiraling together in the desire for one another, Johnny’s cock bobs in between his legs as you both witness Pietro pressing wet kisses up and down the muscle of his body. Stopping once he reaches his sun-kissed loins to transfix his lust-blues into yours, before licking a long strip of Johnny’s bulbous tip weeping in cum.

The scene soaks a wet spot on the airy pillow your clenching pussy rests on, your core burning with a need to be spoiled on with their cock but you cannot do anything about it.

All you can do right now is watch your boyfriends fuck each other and not hump the pillow in the process. Shouldn’t be that hard, right?

━━━➛ thank you for reading! i’d appreciate it if you’d reblog// leave a comment on your thoughts. links to library acc and taglist are above. ♡

[strawbeariediary]

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤

━━━━━➛ “𝐼’𝑚 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑛𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑎𝑚𝑛 𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑝𝑢𝑡 𝑎 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑦 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠. 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑖𝑝𝑠.”

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 — a night of dirty dancing with two lovesick strangers leads to you inviting them into your home and into your heart.

𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒 — smut & angst ↬ part one.

𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 — ari levinson × clay appuzzo + ari levinson × fem!reader + clay appuzzo × fem!reader

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 — 18+ nsfw || reader is 21 and ari & clay are 42. reader is a part-time stripper + cafe waitress, ari is an erotic novelist and clay is a nude photographer. falling in love with strangers. sexual remarks and teasing. alcohol mention. minors dni.

𝑤.𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 — hello so this pairing of mine have been on my mind for so long and I just had to write it. hope you cherubs heed the warnings and enjoy reading! 🍒 part two is coming this Saturday!

𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 — part one > part two. masterlist. library acc. taglist.

Beautiful. Dangerous. Addicting.

Ari Levinson’s lustful thoughts thunder as his candy red tongue licks your glossy folds torturously slow, ravishing in the artful way your back rises in a poetic arc as an airy whine falls from your mouth.

Bewitching. Wicked. Perfect.

Clay Appuzzo’s head carnally rasps, his rosy-pink lips bruised from crashing them against his brunette lover that takes each deep thrust he gives him while his olive eyes lock with yours that watch with precise attention.

Give me more. It burns like fire. Give me more.

The pleads swim and drown, the resurface in your ears as you witness the man who seems more powerful than a God lay before you. Eating you out vigorously till your tart nectar soaks his full beard through and makes his lips shiny with dew.

A slurp and a suck brings colorful hues to your vision, a lick and roll of his devilish tongue clears them out yet manifests them back. Bringing you in and out of consciousness to behold the sight of a man with midnight black hair, lovestruck stars pouring in beads of sweat.

Rolling down the cords of muscle on his back and the slope of his temple as his hips collide with the man who french-kisses your cunt, fucking his ass at the same tempo rhythm.

It makes you restlessly grind your hips at the sight, high on your cotton cloud of fluffy euphoria. Glassy eyes captivating the Eyes of the Heavens but feeling the heat of Hells Gates.

So torn between the two hemispheres, is bonding your heart and soul; like all the forgotten love letters you’ve pieced together, like the transforming moon going through its metamorphic stages.

Two strangers of the night, claiming your mind, body and soul— but how did it come to be?

The place was Lovers Lane, a roaring New Jersey club near the sparkling turquoise shores and blonde beaches. A place most memorable for good drinks, the Hampton-like waves and hopeless strangers dirty dancing under disco balls until they fall in and out of love.

Tonight, was one of the typical Saturday nights that anyone local with money and time to burn in the city would spend it here. Hollywood stars appearing here and there yet no one really notices the highly acclaimed Ari Levinson and creative genius Clay Appuzzo at a private booth.

Swooning strangers with their mysterious connections and unspoken secrets in their citrus margarita eyes. However, it was not common for them to run across a mystery of their own.

She, the midnight woman in strawberry red was a rarity in the tarot cards gifted down from the wicked stars. Possessing their twinkle and burn the minute she stepped in and flooded the dance floor in her energy.

She’s a dizzy reverie in strawberry silk, destined to enthrall the photographer that dances with her to his knees, his hands raised in a prophet's prayer. Pleading to taste the lips of the midnight woman in strawberry lipstick, staining both the lovers' minds in seventy-nine-dollar lip prints.

The thought is both appetizing and beyond Clay’s sinful imagination, to his lovestruck eyes and curious hands that grow more curious. They hold the roundness of her ass against his hardening member under the polaroid lights of the spiraling disco ball and she smirks.

How did she come to be?

Ari Levinson wonders, he feels himself spiraling even when he’s seated on a barstool. Pairs of lovers besides him line up the bar yet he reserves his space for his lover, and another for the woman rocking his beliefs and heart.

Pink honeysuckles of growing fascination and temptation bloom sharp and explode like firecrackers inside his chest. The petals of curiosity fall to the pits of his stomach, blossoming seeds of hesitation and anticipation. They sprout with a glance, a wink, a flip of her bouncy hair to his direction.

This enthrallment trails dangerous allurement inside Ari Levinson, whispering a prophecy in the conch shell of his ears that ales his ocean hues follow your prominent figure. Swimming through the purple liquid of his pomegranate tequila in the cocktail glass he looks through, he sets it down after taking a mouthful sip.

Rosy-dawned fingertips clasp the mood ring around his thumb, fading away from a blue glow to a red when you catch his gaze. With another set of rubs to the crystal you both bashfully look away, you looking back to the tall man that grabs your hips as you both dance against each other.

A sense of corrupted virtue in your mascara stroked eyes, no one could suspect that the same man is looking at Ari with that same look. They both radiate sex and hunger, something Ari writes for a living and sensate every day. But for some reason it doesn’t possess meaning when you’re the outline and archetype of every word and desire he’s written on his old typewriter.

It’s perplexing, because nothing Ari could write can he bring into existence. Although, this event of his lover dancing with the mysterious stranger with the magnetic eyes and entrancing lips that seem to captivate everyone is a ripped page straight out of one of his erotica’s.

The taste of pomegranate soaks his mouth, his scruff cheeks warming as the alcohol swims through his veins. Exhilaration fuels the pace of his heart that beats along with the music, Ari observed the dance between Clay and the mystery woman becoming more handsy and intimate.

It’s getting Ari feeling a delirious type of feather light, burning all over till he pulls off the brown leather jacket off his shoulders. Unbuttoning the three buttons of his peacock blue polo till the gold in his Star of David glimmers, he calls Jake the bartender over.

“You called Levinson,” the man remarks, his candy-striped button-up rolled up to his elbows. Drinking from a glass bottle of coke, enjoying the free entertainment that came along with being a bartender.

The older man doesn’t look at him, making the curious bartender Jacob Wolf shift his gaze to where his loyal customer glances. Amused, his hazelnut hues latch sight on the woman who's on everyone's mind and paycheck.

“Give the strawberry dream over there a drink. It’s on me.” Ari drawls, not withdrawing his longing stare away from her despite the growing crowds of dancing bodies intervene.

Jacob laughs, because only God knows how many times he’s been asked that. “Alright, what are your requests?” the man questions, enjoying the look of blank answers written on Ari’s features.

Usually, when Clay and Ari pick a girl up, they wouldn’t care what to get her and neither of them would care. Whatever that made the girl soft and dreamy on them did the trick, but you don't seem to apply to that. Ari needs to impress you; he needs to figure out where your strings like to be pulled.

“I suppose I should ask her.” he sighs, he doesn’t know why it came out so airy and delicate and it makes Jacob snicker again.

Jugging down the rest of his cold cola, he disposed it before patting own the blue velvet on Ari’s shoulder. “Smart, because they didn’t do that and she hasn’t touched a single drink all night.” his head gestures to the opposite side of the bar aligned with various drinks of sizes and colors, all untouched.

Ari manages to find the familiar tall figure of his boyfriend and where Clay is he manages to find her. Kissing him like a tease and pulling away for him to crave more of her forbidden fruit lips. If only his ears could catch the sweet sounds of her moaning softly against Clay's lips. Commenting how they taste like cherries, Ari knows that she’s thinking that his lips taste like cherries.

The music gets louder, the lights spin faster, his thoughts get wilder. Looking back Ari sees her fingers in his raven hair, her palms rubbing the exposed skin of his chest and her striking body rocking against his thigh.

Ari smirks and sips from his drink, recognizing Clay’s tactic of initiating a heated dance to just excuse himself for a little break. Leaving whatever woman he dances with hooked, he doesn’t even need to count down the minute because he’s now sitting down next to him.

Panting like dog in heat, Clay lets out a tamed but tipsy howl. “I have t’say this Ari, woman these days are made to destroy men. I can’t get enough of ‘em, they kill me in the best way.”

The man who’s been dancing for half an hour pants whilst his hand sneaks to rub Ari’s thigh, running his fingers through his own tasseled hair. White teeth flash and Ari feels faint when Clay has the audacity to get his tube of cherry chapstick from his pocket and apply another coat of cherry chapstick on his lips.

“Hey Alpha! What does a guy have t’do to getta pepino over here!” Clay hollers, smirking wider when Jacob rolls his eyes as he finishes up a trick of vodka shots to entertain a group tourists.

“And that gal back there, I think— let me hold that thought. I think someone’s needy for some attention.” Clay gestures to her figure dancing alone under the disco ball, catching the lime and cucumber drink sliding through the grapefruit vinyl.

Both their eyes trail back to her body grooving to the new beat, the circulation of her hips and the flow of her waist and shoulders entrance them. Clays hands rub at the coffee brown velvet wrapped around his thighs, taking Ari’s hand and putting them on his throbbing cock.

Erect by the fuck me eyes you give to the two men and the way Ari’s teeth pull his own bottom lip in between them. Straining when Ari grabs at it under the shadow of the bar ledge, the crystal in his mood ring glowing red.

“What are you thinkin’ honey?” Ari draws, lips tracing the dimple on Clay's smile while his thumb rubs the ruby ring wrapped around his lovers middle finger.

A little endowment he gifted Clay one night in some hotel honeymoon suite when he knew he fell deeply in love with him. Clay bites his bottom lip, normally his boyfriend would be hesitant to show him this much attention in public but it seems tonight is a packed house.

Everyone seems to have their eyes on their own conquests, playing a cat and mouse game just to feel something. The same game you’re playing, their burning hues are glued to her spellbind silhouette who continues to dance with entranced men with sex tosseled hair and women in see-through sequined bralettes.

All the attention she attracts, all the desires she derives, she keeps her fixed gaze on Ari. Sending a silent whisper from the movement of her lips, asking him for a dance with the playful wink that makes Ari’s knees shake.

“Suppose I should be askin’ what you’re thinkin’ Levinson.” Clay sends him a cocksure grin, taking the pepino tequila he ordered and taking a long sip, not pulling his own lust drunk gaze away.

“I’m thinkin she’s fuckin perfect. I know this might seem crazy but, fuck— she put a damn spell on me, honey. What am I supposed to do?” Ari talks like a man deprived of water and sex, both things Clay provide for him and he doesn’t disagree with Ari’s confession.

“I think you should dance with her. Look at her eyes, fuck look at ‘em Ari.” Clay growls as his hand with the ruby ring wraps around Ari’s jaw so his taunted blues can lock with her hues from the other side of the dance floor.

“Just look at her—“ Ari is and how could he not? “She’s beggin’ you for a dance. Read her eyes, she’s beggin’ you to make a move.” she’s biting her lip, her body moving in sync to the song and Ari’s pounding heartbeat.

“What are you gonna do with her? How are you gonna please her?” Ari shivers as Clay whispers, liquor-soaked lips brushing against the soft skin of his ear.

The man with the shoulder length hair of honey can’t look away and he won’t look away. It’s the way she seems to draw everyone's attention to her, the way she embodies everyone's deepest secrets and desires.

Maybe it’s from the delirious moment to act without giving attentive thought that encourages him to sip more from his glass and shamelessly gawk at her, to abrasive about you.

Perhaps it’s the hand that rubs at his hardening cock and teeth that grasp the skin of his ear which drive him to imagine what it would be like to have you naked and moaning in between him and Clay.

Or for all Ari Levinson knows, it could be the factor that he wears his heart on his sleeve and you're undoing the buttons of his heart strings with a satisfaction that makes your lashes bat and your own beating muscle flutter.

“What are you waitin’ for?” Clay whispers and Ari curses himself for wondering the same thing, his feet hitting the polished tiles as his body joins the other sweaty and lust-radiating ones on the dance floor.

Strangers touch him, strangers dance with him, strangers tell him the numbers to their hotel rooms, but he still locks his eyes to you and moves closer, closer, closer.

Till he becomes face to face with you, eyes batting, bodies moving, noses touching and hands wandering as you two bring everyone’s attention on you both.

It’s arousing, lewd, promiscuous and everyone’s immorally drunk on it as the music only gets louder and the euphoria of colorful lights spin faster. Your peach painted nails trace Ari’s beard whilst your ass grinds against his body, going down till he can see the lascivious curve of your back.

Getting down until your hands touch your platforms, Ari’s hands grasp her hips, massaging the softness while the delicious friction of your plump ass drags slowly against his thighs, loins and finally till it grinds against his boner.

Wolf whistles and drunk whoops of encouragement ring out and with another spin of the disco ball does Ari notice his lover joins in on the dance. The midnight woman’s lust drunk eyes match the erotic olives of Clays, the air becoming thicker and the lights gleaming a deep red as the man with the ruby ring moves his body to match hers.

Ari’s mouth tracing her neck and his cock rubbing against her ass. The two of them are a dangerous mixture of lethal lust, intoxicated off them just as they are off her. The midnight woman, you, would never have thought to have a night like this.

Dancing with the man who writes all the romantic erotic novels you play with your pussy to and the man who photographs the covers for them. The very men of your dreams you’ve never that you’ve ever find in your coffee-stained reality, yet here you are living it.

please let this night last, make this dream last forever

“I don’t want this night to end either.” Ari lips move against your neck, thrumming the violin strings of your heart.

“Ari, what do you say we make her night even more special and take her to see the patio.” Clay speaks as if you weren’t there, although your face heats up as the legendary Clay Appuzzo kisses your hand.

“I say that sounds like a good idea, away from preying eyes. Just us and our strawberry.” Ari agrees with a hum, taking your other hand in his large one and sucking down on your pulse.

The threat of his teeth nips at your skin and suddenly you're dizzy all over despite not having a single drink. Continuing the motions of your hips, your head pulls back giving him your approving moans.

“That sounds perfect.”

♡♡♡ thank you for reading! ♡♡♡ i’d appreciate it if you’d reblog or leave a comment what you think and see you soon for part two! ♡♡♡

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — @amethystnalaah . @lavendercitizen . @babyyhoneyydarling . ♡

[strawbeariediary]

𝑫𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑴 𝑫𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑺, 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑏𝑜𝑦

introduction. a series of little dates and little-big moments within you and your dreamboy’s relationship.

disclaimers. 18+ content. this series has explicit content that no minors should expose themselves to. respect my wishes, happy reading to those who follow.

— museum melodrama · where you claim him as your Romeo and Hayden takes you as his Juliet.

— art gallery mischief · another moonlight night for another lovesick date, the space between you both nonexistent.

— tender of the night · a walk through the city leads to a carton of icecream being shared in the comfort of your kitchen.

— pitter patter paramour · you and Hayden resolve your bitter candle light dinner in the soft midnight rain. - current wip

— the cosmos of me and you · bare bodies and naked hearts confess secrets to each other under the twinkle of the stars.

m.masterlist · library acc. · my taglist.

[strawbeariediary]

raised: $135 / $250

♡ DONATE TO NYX’S KO-FI ♡

can’t donate? no worries! you can also —

♡ REBLOG TO SPREAD THE WORD ♡

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info | eun's teaming up with her dear friend nyx (@starksbabie) to help raise money for nyx's cat meatball, who recently racked up some unexpected vet bills.

goal | raise $250

incentive | once the monetary goal is reached, eun will post a super special cat-themed steve rogers fic!

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meatball’s and nyx’s story | shortly after nyx adopted meatball, a rescue kitten who was found in a dumpster, a list of urgent medical problems were identified at the little one's first visit to the vet including ear mites, intestinal worms, a sinus yeast infection, and an upper respiratory infection. nyx took to tumblr in hopes of collecting donations to fund meatball's treatment, and when eun saw her post, she saw an opportunity to help a dear friend who had already done so much for her.

a message from eun | hi friends! thanks for taking the time to check out this thing nyx and i have been working on, and to those who decide to donate or reblog to spread the word, from the bottom of my heart, thank you so incredibly much ♡ i've never done anything like this before but when i heard about nyx and meatball's situation i felt like i couldn't just donate myself and call it a day; i wanted to use this little platform i have to hopefully help out one of the kindest souls i've ever met (and her little furry baby.) as someone whose life has been saved a thousand times over by a rescue cat/ESA of my own, i know unexpected vet bills can be such a nightmare, especially with the state of the world right now. i hope this project goes far, and i hope that nyx and meatball feel our love through our generosity, sharing, and support ♡

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tagging some mutuals and friends, please help spread the word! | @nony-bear @worksby-d @stardustedangel @kleohoneyao3 @jtargaryen18 @mianorth @astrorogers @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @chanelfaerie @strawbeariefaerie @honeychicana @burberrybaby @a-little-counter-esperanto @fairyevans @sapphireplums @balenciagabucky @riverevelations @trashywritestrash @ambrosiase @winterrfalconn @mariessecretfantasies @stuckysdumbbitch @belovasbrat @agentofbarnes @candy-and-writing @overrwritten @falcqns @sweet-dreams-steve @heck-heckers-hecking @fangirlofallthings @steebsfav @goodgirlforbucky @myrealmstuff

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[strawbeariediary]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 — series masterlist.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || working in the porn industry is not something that you‘re proudly proclaiming after graduating from Yale. however, with those roaring twenties up your sleeve and the unexpected series fortunate events that is your spiraling life — you’re finding yourself coming into your first day of work as the assistant to the ungodly Godstar of Stark Naked magazine and productions. becoming the assistant to the one and only Johnny Storm.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 || alt universe AU — pornstar!johnny storm × assistant![black//woc]fem!reader — eventually to be pornstar!reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || 18+ interaction only. contains explicit content that eludes to sexual activities, describes graphic images such as nudity, and speaks of the troubles of working in the porn industry. do not proceed reading this series if you are not eighteen years and older or do not agree with what has been mentioned.

— 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞; 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍 ➵ coming soon!

“her first glimpse of the Godstar. the embodiment of Prometheus and the incarnation of Icarus. Johnny reflects back to her wily, his thoughts melting and fluttering like candle-wax wings. hot and unbearably eager. speechless yet unreserved appeal withstanding — even when they look away, both yearning for a second glance.”

— 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨; 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎

— 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞; 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑

— 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫; 𝐖𝐀𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒

— 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞; 𝐈𝐍 𝐉𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒

— 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐱; 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐃

— 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧; 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐘

・ moodboard ・ series playlist ・ main masterlist ・ library acc.

[strawbeariediary]

𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆 || 𝒎𝒚 𝒅𝒊𝒂𝒓𝒚 || 𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 ━━ a walk through the city to your apartment leads to a carton of icecream being shared in the comfort of your kitchen. 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ━━ hayden (harvard hottie) × [black//woc]fem!reader 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ━━ 18+ hints to nsfw themes, hayden is having an existential crisis, anxiety + stress mention, some kissing, pet names: “Romeo and Juliet”, hayden and reader are hopelessly in love with each other, sexy times not described but still present :p

her crescent moon smile— it bewitches and twinkles beneath the milky twilight.

persuading the bright lights of New York City to dim in envy as the darkening hour presents itself. series of moonlight rats slip past those sculptured glossy lips. leaving an alluring smell of rose water whilst bitter coats of black coffee lace Hayden’s tongue.

“what’s the mood for tonight, Romeo? strawberry swirl or cookie dough?” you speak as you take the coffee cup from his grasps and taking a long drink.

humming at the bitterness, the hints of hazelnut subtle enough for you to take another sip. a droplet of black coffee imprinting at the plumpness of your bottom lip. hypnotizing him as he tries to keep up with you through the labyrinth that is Fifth Avenue.

so dark, like the night that soaks the cities boulevard of street lamps dripping in their golden dewdrop light.

so dark, like the night that soaks the cities boulevard of street lamps dripping in their golden dewdrop light.

so dark, like the night that soaks the cities boulevard of street lamps dripping in their golden dewdrop light.

so enriching, like the street pavement underneath your feet whilst the eyes trace in the clarification in the bronzes and coppers of street lamps.

so vivacious, like the splashing sea in Hayden’s simple white paper cup that crashes in charcoal waves against the plastic lid.

“cookie dough it is then.” you grin, secretly hoping he’d say that but your smile doesn’t spread once you notice the tenseness, the drowsiness that soaks him.

the americana that you took from him is helping, you don’t know how much Hayden drank at this point although it’s keeps your wonder boy conscious as a candlestick.

terrifyingly aware of its flaming anxiety, carelessly unaware that it drips in stress— that your Hayden is dripping in wax and he’s trying so hard to stay stable.

“Hayden?” the mention of his name doesn’t grab his attention, those caffeine soaked irises and his mind seem to be in another galaxy. “Baby?” you speak up and he almost trips on a mossy crack in the concrete.

“yeah?” his eyes tears away from his cellphone, there you notice the slight dark bags underneath his blue hues.

he needs to get some sleep. when was the last time he had a full days rest? had a moment to not worry about LSATs, Law School or his demanding father? not current enough.

“I want to make tonight special for you. you’ve been working nonstop for the past few weeks and- I really want you to have one night were you aren’t stressing-” you’re cut off with his tired sigh.

“y/n baby, I would love that. I really would, but I have a full schedule tomorrow to meet up with my advisor and I have to refresh on-”

“and that is all for tomorrow, tonight is about you.” you interrupt, giving him a sly smile as you drink again from his coffee as Hayden attempts and fails to steal it back.

“besides-” you continue, stopping Hayden in his tracks as you stand at the tips of your toes. lips brushing against his ear while your hand traces the muscle of his forearms.

“I have a special treat for the both of us once we’re done with our icecream.” you lick the space of skin beneath his ear and grab his hands, the beat of heart pacing now as a crooked smile graces his now cherry face.

“I guess I can’t disagree with you now then,” Hayden stammers, his own hand gliding down to wrap his arm around your waist.

“nope, you absolutely cannot or i’ll leave you without my touch and you know how well I am with my hands.” smirking, gifting his hand a tender, supportive squeeze before creeping at his thigh and cupping his dick.

Hayden chokes on his spit, heat flushing his face as his eyes look around to hopefully see that nobody noticed. although all his attention catches is your laughter and your hand pulling him to your side suddenly.

turning the corner, him and you racing across the road pavement ignites an adolescent-like rush as you seak the meaning out. a galaxy of headlights shining like lively stars of white, yellow and orange. giving Hayden the taste of liveliness again as you run hand in hand, the wind moving through your hair as the cars honk behind you two.

also, giving an opportunity for that dark, enriching and vivacious coffee sea to break free from it’s paper cup cage. creating sticky black puddles to splattered over the faultless canvas that is suddenly Hayden’s blue polo.

stained like his milk white teeth, having a yellow tint from drinking it continuously as the sun rose in the shape of a lemon slice to bruised as a peach at it set.

some remains of the coffee stick like honey on his hands, irritation sparks but so does exhaustion from the endless hours of studying in the small coffee-shop across Central Park.

“oh Romeo, Romeo. you are not having a good day are you?” you cannot contain your laughter even if it’s not the best at the time. Hayden throws you a tamed glare and an irritated eye roll, although he still doesn’t let go of your hand.

bundles of civilians pass you both, possessing faces different the next yet bearing their own colorfully unique auras. filling the sidewalk atmosphere with chatter and soles of shoes against the pavement. the incoming taxi cabs rushing past blare the music in the radio, and the sweet and savory smells of the near asian cuisine restaurants fill Hayden’s senses of sight, sound, and smell.

it’s comforting.

Manhattan— Hayden’s city which he considers to be his home, layers in so many simple complexities. although they all go along sourly with the obnoxious buzzing of his cellphone in the back pocket of his trousers— and still, Hayden ignores it just like the other missed calls.

he’ll stop calling me sometime tonight. Hayden reasons, remembering the very familiar path of flower plants planted in the simple columns besides the blank casse sidewalks.

“you want me to kiss it better?” whether it was another tease or you were really being serious, Hayden steals a fast yet tranquil kiss. feeling the tension so thick in his head and chest clear just a bit.

“there, i’m all better— but...” Hayden pauses as he pretends to figure out what else to say, either way it’s making you raise your brow at him. “I really think I need something stronger. a peck just won’t cover me, don’t you think so Juliet?” he whispers in your ear as his fingers cup at your hips.

“come back with a note from your doctor Romeo. otherwise, this pharmacy is closed.” playfully snapping, smiling at the fake blow Hayden emphasis.

like muscle memory, his fingers twine through the delicate petals of pink and purple azalea bushes as the grip weaved within yours tightens a slight. the symphony of the theater close by can be heard softly as well as the applauding encore afterwards.

“you really know how to break my heart into two don’t you baby? do I have to beg you to kiss it better this time?” he smirks in your ear, catching the bright lights of the lobby of your apartment a few feet away.

“oh please, as if you’re one on to beg… but—” you pause, looking up at him with a smile he can recognize only as pure mischief. “— i’m not expecting anything less when you get this whiny and needy.” smirking with a quick tug at his belt, seeing the tent in his pants very noticeable.

“i’m not being needy and whiny. I’m just tired- and I just need a little—” Hayden stammers, trying to relax the heat swimming through his body but you just roll your eyes, brightening suddenly when you finally catch your building.

“you’re going through the stage of denial Romeo. don’t worry, Juliet is here to make sure you get fucked good.” you smirk whilst guiding Hayden who is bearing a blush three shades deeper than before into the lobby of your building.

“before or after our icecream?” he plays along, his fingers playing with the charms of your bracelet. even in the moment where other people join the

elevator, instinctively giving space between each other but you still feel his gaze weighting upon you after flittering his eyes somewhere else. “you’ll find out soon.” you whisper, and with the ding of the elevator reaching your floor you and Hayden step off.

excusing yourselves as you stepped out of the elevator, you both walk a respective distance from each other. however, when the moment the elevator door closed, did you burst in a fit of giggles and playful scream as Hayden wrapped you up in his arms suddenly.

“can we skip the icecream?” Hayden whispers in your ear, his fingers playing again with the charms of your bracelet before they glide underneath the cloth of your shirt.

the pace to your apartment not dignified to anyone of your rather elderly neighbors but you did bring a sense of youthful liveliness. your practically radiating it now as Hayden wraps his arms around your waist as you try to find the key to your apartment on your keychain that bares more shiny trinkets than keys.

“and mess up our tradition? we always eat a carton of icecream together on Tuesdays.” you whine, finally able to open your apartment and settling your things as you lock the door behind you.

Hayden watches your figure as you take off your shoes and ruffle your hair, making your way to the kitchen he follows right behind you as you open the freezer. “there’s nothing wrong with changing up traditions. it’s completely normal, and besides—”

the cartons of icecream right in front of you both, the draw of spoons not far away, you’re intended on your night snack of chocolate chip cookie dough in sweet vanilla icecream but Hayden smirks at his own plans for tonight.

playing with the curly lock of hair resting on the soft skin of your back. “—you always give me the best lap dance on Tuesdays. i’m not saying we forget about our carton of Cookie Dough but I am saying that maybe it perfectly alright to shake up our tradition.” his knuckles tracings the outlines of your back before his hands take their place on their hips, rubbing them to feel the curve in his grasps.

sucking on your skin, his teeth grazing the delicate spot above your paving jugular. “what do you say Juliet?” his tone so light and airy, leaving room for you to answer but all he receives are whimpers when his fingers tweaks at your nipple.

oh, now you’re certain about ditching the carton of Häagen Dazs.

a pair of warm, coffee drunk lips graze the sensitive skin of your neck just right as he closes the freezer door. intending on making this shift in tradition worth it for you, Hayden intends on making you feel worthy of every chance he makes.

you’re deserving and worthy of every one.

smelling the roasted coffee beans on his clothes from sitting in the coffee shop for hours, you spoon a good enough chunk of cookie dough and vanilla into Hayden’s mouth.

the both of you are wrapped up within each other, the carton of icecream in between you both as you scoop from it every other minute. the flow of the city scape outside of the window of your own worlds as you watch another round of Legally Blonde.

despite Hayden saying it isn’t realistic and whispering curses under his breath whenever Warner appeared on screen, you know he enjoys it just as much as you when he laughs at the jokes.

“I cannot believe the universe blessed us with this much cookie dough in one carton.” Hayden laughs at that, the sound pairing better with his rosy fingers creeping up underneath your baggy sleeping shirt— well it’s technically his since he keeps a few clothes at your place.

“I think she knew we both needed a break from her shit. glad she’s considerate.” he smiles as his eyes travel back to the tv, watching Elle Woods arriving to the the supposed costume party and witnessing her heart being once again broken at the hands of Warner Huntington in her playboy bunny outfit.

“what a pretentious little ass-prick.” he grunts at the screen, you quirk your brow at him as you take another scoop of icecream.

“ass-prick?” you ask and Hayden rolls his eyes, a smile pulling at his lips when you laugh at the new found insult. “what is that a bridge word between asshole and dickhead?” licking the creamy vanilla off your spoon as you suck down on a chocolate chip.

“well, yeah I guess! there’s so much I wanna say but people like the ass-prick really leave you looking for new words to describe how much an ass-prick they are. trust me; I know. I met so many Warner’s at Harvard and i’m gonna have to see them again sooner or later.”

he takes another spoon of icecream, looking from the screen then at his phone that’s resting at the coffee table with your fashion magazines and panties. “i’m not even sure with myself if I want to go back for Law School, I just considered it a top priority with my father observing my every move when I was an undergrad.”

the dizziness and piling sensation that appeared when he walked the busy streets and smooth sidewalks of Manhattan returns back in his chest slowly. although, what’s the point in shoving them down? he’s been shoving and pushing and running away from it all, trying to find his place in life with a clear head that wasn’t shadowed by his fathers destiny for him.

overthinking his own theories that clash with his fathers: on to pursue Law or to not pursue Law. everything that leads him to this point where he’s so uncertain on his own ideals and ambitions. the comfort that was the quiet living room playing Legally Blonde gets louder and louder; a distraction but a helpful one that helps Hayden grounds his senses to the present.

then he realizes, that no matter where he’ll be, it’s just another step in his path to finding his purpose.

what’s the rush? what’s the consequence of being so uncertain about the meaning of your existence?

should there be a rush? should he be worrying his mind off until he can’t sleep and find a thought of clarity?

it doesn’t seem so once he blocked his fathers number on his phone. it’s turning into mist once you should him all the practice tests with those high marks. it’s completely disappeared once you kissed him, telling him he’ll be alright.

those cupid bows always found a home when they molded against his mouth. a confectionary sensibility a-raising when you would taste the coffee of his tongue and he the strawberry lipgloss smoothed sweetly on your lips.

it’s a sort of kiss that has the power to cease all the anxieties building up in his chest and your own fingers trace the vanilla icecream stains on his shirt till his heart beats underneath the skin of your fingers — the kind of kiss that starts and ends so shortly, although designed to crave another taste all the same.

it leaves him intoxicated off you and from the sweetness from the chunk of cookie dough you dug up with his shiny spoon. all remains of that dizzy feeling are replaced with the warmth of your fingers through his hair, you always knew the right spots that made him turn into putty in your hands.

fuck, he won’t ever be a Warner, there is nothing and no one he could replace you for in his life. the growing sensation of dependence clouds his heart, a dangerous feeling considering how you both haven’t ever spoken about the status of… whatever this confusing intimacy is.

Hayden hasn’t once heard you call him his boyfriend; he hasn’t once called you his girlfriend. all the twinkles and sparkles that added happiness to this cluster of complex constellations of your relationship must have a meaning even when you both aren’t certain where you align.

is there meaning?

that thought breaks to a stop once he feels your head on his shoulder, eyes drowsy and glossed with sleepiness. those curls of yours framing the dewiness of your face in their beautifully disarrayed way, fingers reaching to lock with his.

maybe there is.

♡♡♡ thank you for reading! ♡♡♡ pretty please like, reblog and comment what you think and if you enjoy this follow my library blog to be notified of my future works! ♡♡♡

[strawbeariediary]

𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐄𝐑 & 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐌 𝐃𝐑𝐘𝐒𝐃𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

➳ 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 — all works cited are mines. I do not own any of the marvel characters however my main characters are exclusively woc (arab, asian, latina, etc), black and importantly of legal age.

➳ 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 — you have no permission to repost//republish, translate or steal any of my work whatsoever. even if you are going to credit me you do not have my consent to copy my work word by word then lazily “credit” me. do not recommend me on platforms such as tiktok, twitter, and other media consumption apps. furthermore, all my fics are meant to be read by people 18 years old and older. minors should not interfere or interact with my work. lastly, do not steal my work - my fairy godmother and my fairy friends will come for you.

➳ 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 — follow my writing blog @strawbeariefaerie and look through my main masterlist. if you can leave some feedback, it’s always greatly appreciated ˚₊· ♡

𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐤 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬 — a preview of the four heavenly and sinful summers you and your beau Ransom Drysdale spend sexually torturing each together.

𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑟 — this series contains smut in each available and upcoming chapters, do not read if uncomfortable.

𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒 — 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐜𝐚𝐤𝐞 ๑ 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 — ON HIATUS

𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑡𝑠

— 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥: you and your sugar daddy spend time at the new lingerie shop that just opened, however you’re both reminiscing the night before. — a.barber

— 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬: Andy Barber has been your best friend since high school and forbidden crush since entering adulthood. Once you two go on a trip to Greece for your birthday you both discover the love that has been buried inside you both ever since.

— 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬: You’re the birthday girl and the birthday girl always gets what she wants. — a.barber

ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠 & 𝑏𝑙𝑢𝑟𝑏𝑠

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐥 — brat hours request! — a.barber

[strawbeariediary]

➳ 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 — some warnings may be added since I am still writing this. this is my first dark fic so please be gentle with me.

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ*)੭━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ posting sometime this week, comment down below or throw me an ask if you’d like to be tagged! ୭̥⋆*｡

[strawbeariediary]

𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ the chris evan characters mentioned in this masterlist include bryce langely, harvard hottie, ryan ackerman, jake wyler and kyle dawson.

➳ 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 — all works cited are mines. I do not own any of the marvel characters however my main characters are exclusively woc (arab, asian, latina, etc), black and of legal age.

➳ 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 — you have no permission to repost//republish, translate or steal any of my work whatsoever. even if you are going to credit me you do not have my consent to copy my work word by word then lazily “credit” me. do not recommend me on platforms such as tiktok, twitter, and other media consumption apps. furthermore, all my fics are meant to be read by people 18 years old and older. minors should not interfere or interact with my work. lastly, do not steal my work - my fairy godmother and my fairy friends will come for you.

➳ 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 — follow my writing blog @strawbeariefaerie and look through my main masterlist. if you can leave some feedback, it’s always greatly appreciated ˚₊· ♡

𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 — a series of dates featuring you and your beloved boyfriend Hayden, growing and achieving all your goals in the bright lights of New York City. — h.hayden

𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑟 — this is a harvard hottie series which possesses its own individual warnings. most of these chapters include smut or hint to sexual endeavors and are heavy on angst contents.

— 𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐞’𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐞: you and your dreamboy make a series of sex tapes worthy enough to claim spots in The Louvre. — h.hayden

𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑟 — this is a harvard hottie series that possesses its individual warnings yet importantly it contains explicit sexual context, smut, in all its chapters.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬 — follow the charming story of the twitchy witchy y/n Lovecraft as she starts college fresh from summer break. where the local rich witch bitch learns to love herself, prepares for existential catastrophes, and practices on her spell book casting vexes and charms. as well as endures the annoying troubles of having Jake Wyler as a boyfriend and has fun raising Hell with her demon possessed cat Lilith. — j.wyler

𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑟 — this is a jake wyler series that possesses dark elements of witchcraft, satanism, and biblical offenses. this series also hints to sexual endeavors but does not go into detail. reader and jake are of legal age so no one is underage.

𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒 — summertime sadness ๑ SERIES ON HIATUS

𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑡𝑠

— 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥: You and Johnny unintentionally spend christmas together after a messy break up but that’s all you wanted. to finally be together again. — j.storm

— 𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐝: y/n finds herself twined in the web of addicted fantasy, not knowing she’ll meet again with her crush; well her other crush- she is met with a life gripping warning. — j.wyler

— 𝐣𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬!: The infamous football team from St. Johns wins the state championship yet on the bus ride home they are met with a winged flesh-hungry terror savoring the last day of its twenty three day eating frenzy. — j.wyler

— 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝: While the taste of human flesh is delectable on the tongue of Devil’s Kettle’s angel y/n l/n, she takes revenge on all the school boys who never stood a chance against her. As the spiteful y/n l/n satisfies her appetite on the male student population, her studly friend Kyle Lesniki finds out about her plan and vows to set an end to her carnage... or does he? — k.dawson

𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒 — 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 — series on hiatus!

— 𝐯𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐯𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦: Minding your own business enjoying your girls night at the beach, you run into an ex. — r.ackerman

ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠 & 𝑏𝑙𝑢𝑟𝑏𝑠

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐲𝐝𝐞𝐧 // 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐞

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐡𝐚𝐲𝐝𝐞𝐧 // 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬

[strawbeariediary]

𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

➳ 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 — all works cited are mines. I do not own any of the marvel characters however my main characters are exclusively woc (arab, asian, latina, etc), black and of legal age.

➳ 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 — you have no permission to repost//republish, translate or steal any of my work whatsoever. even if you are going to credit me you do not have my consent to copy my work word by word then lazily “credit” me. do not recommend me on platforms such as tiktok, twitter, and other media consumption apps. furthermore, all my fics are meant to be read by people 18 years old and older. minors should not interfere or interact with my work. lastly, do not steal my work - my fairy godmother and my fairy friends will come for you.

➳ 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 — follow my writing blog @strawbeariefaerie and look through my main masterlist. if you can leave some feedback, it’s always greatly appreciated! ˚₊· ♡

𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑡𝑠

— 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲! Daddy Steve and Papa Bucky teach themselves a very valuable lesson on kindness and above all circumstances— to always listen to their angel cake.

ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠 & 𝑏𝑙𝑢𝑟𝑏𝑠

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲!𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞!𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝��𝐫

[strawbeariediary]

i’m going to be posting a few masterlists tomorrow on some characters i’ve missed! 💗 hope you look out for them and enjoy your night! 💗

[strawbeariediary]

✿ ゜・。𝒂.𝒍𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ✿ 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒘𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒂𝒓𝒚 。・゜✿

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 || a white satin Calvin Klein dress breaks the sexual tension between you and Ari Levinson as you attempt to leave for a date. sparking off an intoxicating air of possessiveness between Sunset Boulevards mayor and you, the daughter of his bestfriend.

𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 || dadsbestfriend!ari levinson × [black//woc]fem!reader + Jake Wyler crossover

𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒 || smuty smut with ploty plot

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 || 18+ nsfw, vaginal fixation (f receiving), daddy kink, fingering + spanking, age-gap (ari is forty and reader is twenty two), jake is also twenty two here, size kink, cum play, lots of making out, semi-hate//lust dynamics, panty kink, cursing, affair mention and repeated toxic marriage mentions, ari isn’t necessarily dark in this but he comes off vv possessive — minors do not interact —

𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 || 4K ➳ 𝑑𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑡 || @firefly-graphics

𝑤. 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 || hello sweet cherubs this fic is finally here! this is my version of the Calvin Klein dress scene from Cluless! if you’d like to see more bestfriendsdad! works from me you may file some requests here on the exception of reading my writing restrictions. anyways, hope you all enjoy reading! — xox, rosie posie ♡♡♡

the moon’s silver rays shine divinely this night.

similar to shimmery shine of the highlight y/n l/n applies to her cheekbones but that magical light seeps through the open curtains of the y/l/n manor sitting room.

crystalline glasses of ancient scotch glow radiantly under the golden lighting of the milk and honey chandelier above two gentlemen’s heads. playing cards as they sip their expensive alcohol, snacking on pistachios and exchanging Ivy League memories with your fathers favorite Frank Sinatra album playing in the record player.

few cards in one of the grasps of the Mayor of Sunset Boulevard, Ari Levinson’s calloused hands, the other lifts his glass of scotch and raises it to his lips. taking a respected sip while clearing his throat, relishing the crisp cold of the ice cube floating in the glowing amber liquid.

in the chair opposite to Mister Levinson, with more than a dozen cards in both his grasps and a cigarette fuming in between his fingers is your father— or what he proudly prefers to call, his longtime pal that he just reunited with this early summer.

that has been through all thick and thin scenarios of boyhood friendship entering male adulthood. now sitting successfully and comfortably over years of hardships, with families and fortunes of their very own.

his long time friend, y/f/n y/f/l/n sighs, finally putting down a card he deemed useless after long moments of debating it’s use amongst his others. taking a pistachio from the small China bowl next to the deck of cards, he munches it in thought.

Ari examines the card, a Queen of Hearts to his realization and immediately he picks up from his pile. taking the Queen to complete the set of Heart royalty you outs all his cards down successfully with a deep chuckle. taking in your fathers amusingly defeated stance, puffing the remains of his cigarette before putting it out against the ash tray.

“you’re a bastard, Levinson.” your father grumbles yet Ari only responds with cocky laughs. humming along the next song that plays, recognizing the rhythm of the song as his black loafers taps against the expensive carpet underneath their sitting figures.

“Ari, I hate to confess but i’m in a blight disposition here.” your father grumbled, looking down at his cards thrown carelessly against the polished redwood table.

“of course you are, old friend. you just lost.” Ari chuckles, sitting back as he begins to take his tin cigarette box from his trouser pocket. realizing a sudden shift in the atmosphere in your fathers growing stressed mood.

who is not shuffling the cards to start a new game, not singing along the Sinatra lyrics he is so familiar with and certainly not engaging into any conversations with him on their grand past.

opening the glossy black case to reveal the thick cigars imported finely from Italy. taking one and placing it in between his lips, he offers the case to your father who ignores it. strangely so, for your father to deny a cigar from Ari. head turning over his shoulder towards the open glass doors leading to the white marble entryway of the mansion.

as if your father is waiting for someone, Ari could only wonder but he just looks over concerningly at his old friend.

Ari lights a single cigar, tapping it against the tin before taking the end to meet the playful flame. taking the other end in between his lips, the darkly flavored tobacco filling his mouth. entering and existing richly with an inhale and exhale, scratching his beard as your father finally speaks.

“it’s not the cards, it’s something that I need help with. i’m in great need of advice. you do know of my daughter, y/n, don’t you?”

your father questioned, still drinking heavily from his polished glass, distressfully as he clears his throat here and there. with that it’s as if Ari Levinson’s heart stops pounding at that very moment. the smoke filling his chest and stills in the back of his throat, as he cough your father looks over.

yes, Ari Levinson knew very much about y/n l/n.

he knew a lot about you.

for how would anyone in this aristocrat town not know of you? you’re the princess of Beverley Hills, the very sunshine of the West Coast.

“of course I do, she’s a real special woman, but I don’t understand… what’s the matter?” Ari agrees subtly, grabbing his scotch glass. trying to relieve the sudden scratchiness of his throat and ease the pound of his chest with the cold alcohol.

before your father can answer the sound of the doorbell going off interrupted those upcoming words. looking at each other briefly, you’re father sighs and not a second goes by does your voice suddenly shout— “Daddy can you please open the door! i’m not ready yet and Jake is already here!”

those words alarm Ari, especially with that given word that he’s so used to hearing it between you and him. privately, with you on your knees and his cock in your mouth but of course as the pristine girl you are you’re a daddy’s girl in more ways then one.

“then the boy can wait outside!” your father speaks, and you whine at the top of the staircase. pulling at your fathers and Ari’s heartstrings but mostly at your fathers hesitant nerves. “Daddy please! open it up for him!” your father sighs and rubs his temples, Ari just takes it as a moment to open the damn door himself. clear things up for himself since your father isn’t spitting whats bothering him.

walking to the front door, Ari opens the door and immediately before the man behind it can ring the doorbell again Ari is met with a tall young man. slick black hair, sharp blue eyes paired with somewhat obnoxiously large sideburns as he walks in and beams those white teeth without introduction.

this is what’s going on, the Sunset Boulevards princess got herself a date.

and just from that realization jealousy enters the heart of Ari Levinson. glaring at the young man in the casual beige two piece— he didn’t seem to recognize the young man at all. “Mayor Levinson! pleasant seeing you here.” the young man smirks and Ari immediately snatches the hat off his head before smacking it against his head.

“she’s not ready yet.” he grunts and walks back to the sitting room, the young man of the name Bryce trailing behind with an offended scoff.

taking off the tan coat, a tight black shirt hugs his chest nicely before he meets his sights on your father. flashing him a charming smile and lending his hand out, “Jake Wyler, an honor to met you Sir.”

your father just stares at the hand and Jake just takes it as a hint to clench it himself and keep it to himself. “a nice pile of bricks you got here.” he says analyzing the sitting room of bookshelves and the record player that still plays Sinatra.

“do you drink Mr. Wyler?” your father barks, Jake just stares unbothered, “no i’m cool.” he responds, taking his hat and coat in one arm as he glances down to his watch then back at your father.

“i’m not offering, i’m asking if you drink. you think I give alcohol to schoolboy drivers like you taking my daughter out?” your father wasn’t even nearing yelling his head off but Jake just nods his head.

another mistake he made, glancing to the Mayor of Sunset Boulevard, a town he and his family just moved to- for some support but is only met with a seething glare more furious then your fathers and a puff of cigar smoke. still he manages to keep his cool despite feeling himself sweat underneath the designer cloth.

“hey I understand, you’re getting this protective vibe and I completely get that gig.” Jake answers to a question that was completely rhetorical and is only met with Ari’s deadly cobalt blues as he drinks from his scotch.

“what the fuck is wrong with you kids these days?” your father snaps and Ari couldn’t agree more. “you think the death of Sammy Davis left you an opening at the Rat Pack?”

“Sir I didn’t mean to offend—”

light clacking coming from the first story staircase catches the three men’s attention immediately and cuts Jake’s apology short. with each step that comes closer in their direction, Ari’s heart thumps with each step and with Jake moving out of the way he can see you coming down the stairs in a otherworldly aura.

white satin wrapping your elegant figure beautifully, Tiffany pearls wrap your neck in a sophisticated form. creating a heavenly silhouette with Frank Sinatra’s lyrics of Strangers In The Night playing to your stunning advantage. Heaven and all lovely things reach the tattered soul of Ari Levinson’s soul, the image of you so captivating and ethereal.

an angel with your angel eyes and angelic smile, sending anyone up to the pearly gates with the ease of a glance.

the crystal chandeliers in the homes shine brighter for you, yet you brighter than the moon itself glowing in the starry sky. Jake grins at you, speechless yet acknowledging you’re presence with an extended hand, which you take bashfully.

“handsome.” you greet him, a cherry red Moschino bag in hand that you hold effortlessly.

“dollface.” Jake smiled kissing your cheek then wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you closer for another kiss. “you’re stunning.” this time, one planted firmly on your lips.

receiving the pristine privilege of feeling your soft glossy lips, you’ve yet to see Ari and the envious thunderstorm in his chest only grows more scary with thunder.

his head clouds with anger, jealousy— all things in ugly shades of red and green while he puffs away at his cigarette but he resides with his instincts. by all means, you’re father asked him what to do about you since he’s so stressed about this date, he’ll guide him into doing what’s right.

but all to keep you away from this boy is his true intention.

“you’re not gonna let her go out in that with a boy like him are you?” with that your father looks to Ari then back at you. “boys like him only are interested in reaching second base, never-mind respecting the woman.” Ari whispered your father heard enough and immediately called your name.

to Ari’s pleasure, you pull away from Jakes kiss and walk into the sitting room. “yes daddy?” you ask but you’re met with serious stark of your fathers hues.

“what the Hell is that?” your father snaps, gesturing at your dress and you look dumbfounded. your father never cared for what you wore but as you realize who is in he room next to him you’re left with your answer.

who the Hell does Ari Levinson think he is?

thinking he can dictate whatever the fuck your father has to say when he’s just invited for a game of cards and a smoke. this man doesn’t seem to leave you alone, even when he’s the one who cut all things off with you.

“it’s a dress daddy.” you answer softly, resisting the urge to take your Moschino bag and hit Mayor Levinson’s head with it. “says who?” your father counters, looking to Jake who can’t seem to get his hands off you to his dissatisfaction.

Ari himself would break the greedy hand that grips at your waist, fingers molded to clasp it and Ari curls his fingers into his palm. nobody touches what’s his.

fuming cigar hanging in between his two fingers, his wedding ring shines a golden twinkle as the rest hold up the scotch glass. keeping yourself from trailing your eyes up those hands and to meet those fierce blues that captured your heart not so long ago.

“Calvin Klein daddy, that’s who.” you innocently respond, Ari holds back a scoff at that but only continues to smoke away. sporting an amused lazy smirk as you try to defend your case.

“it looks like underwear. go upstairs and put something over it.” you’re father reasons and you just grin a fake smile and agree. “well duh daddy I was just about to.” you giggle.

it makes Ari shoot his glass down on the polished table, rather loudly, he excuses himself outside because he cannot take anymore of it. walking away and it’s now that you’re eyes interlock and oh there’s a similar burn of hatred and desire in your pretty mascara eyes.

going through the halls but not before kissing Jake on the cheek, whispering a i’ll be right back before departing to the coat closet. shooting a deadly glare straight into the chambers of Ari’s heart when you ignore him. “take a seat Mr. Wyler.” you’re father barks, taking a cigarette from his pack and lighting it.

Jake immediately obeys and takes a seat, however you reappear with a sheer coat over your figure the upcoming minute. no where near covering you up but it’s enough to keep your father off your back. “Jake, are you ready to go?” you ask but your father seems to answer him.

“Mr. Wyler’s going to stay here for a minute so I can clear a few things to him. it’ll only take a minute.” your father speaks, looking at Jake who is sporting sweat bullets.

you huff and say that you’ll meet him outside then when they’re both done. opening the door, you walk down the concrete porch and into the terrace of ivory pillars that ground the grand four story house. glancing at Jake’s cherry muscle car that’s parked at the drive way, you stay under one for the porch lights.

wondering when your father would stop pettily interrogating your date so you two could finally go out dancing.

a soothing choir of the night crickets, humming cicadas and the pleasing quiet of the luxury suburbia plays. it’s sweet and relaxing but you can’t help but feel a pair of eyes on you, reminiscing a growing feeling that you can’t seem to remember but feel so common to.

that is, you’re thoughts crash to a stop once you hear a lighter flicker, turning your head with a gasp you’re met with the tall broad shouldered man sitting at the porch swing. scaring you, you’re eyes meet the man you’ve fallen in and out of love with. large thighs spread and burley arms resting on the furnished chairs arms, just inviting you to sit on his lap.

denying him that urge, you only turn around and glare down at the large man with a cigarette between those ripe lips. “what are you doing out here?” the irked nature of your comment leads Ari to softly smiling.

oh did he miss that snarky attitude and more importantly, being at the receiving end of it for him to fuck it out of you.

“what? a man can’t enjoy a cigarette with the moon looking that beautiful?” his retort makes you scoff and roll his eyes. hoping he would choke on the smoke while wandering when he would soon leave.

lighting the cigarette with his golden lighter, the cursive initials of My Beloved engrained in the metal. letting the blood orange flame engulf the end of the cigarette before letting go of the latch and covering it. puffing away in seamless curls of tobacco smoke, almost yearning to reach your figure.

as if the smoke was an extension of a open palm for you to take, but of course you don’t take it and you most certainly don’t give the satisfaction of even looking at him. “come on, princess.” he’s met with silence as his eyes met with yours, drinking in the cocktail of lust and anger coming to bloom.

the only respond there being is you holding your purse closer to, babydoll thighs rubbing over each other. that makes him smirk, getting a hand of his own and have it rub at his thigh. “c’mon, where’s my sunshine?” he speaks, breathing out a cloud of cigar smoke leave his mouth and despite the hatred for the man you’re craving for him to blow it in your mouth.

sit on his thighs and let those large rough hands roughly gripe your ass wrapped in the white satin piece. cupping his thick bearded cheeks as he seals the cotton clouds of Italian tobacco with a burning moonlight kiss. make you forget all he did that tore you apart from the inside out but that won’t help stitch the fragments of your heart together.

“i’m not your sunshine and i’m certainly not your damn princess.” burning tears blooming in gloom within your Bambi eyes. the words are airy and laced with an aggressive undertone, encouraging Ari to take another hit.

“of course you are sweetheart. even when you’re convincing yourself otherwise, dollface.” his words are spiked with aggression of his own, the use of Jakes nickname for you just a prop to get to snap back at him.

but that’s the thing, he wants you to snap back, to yell at him, to get a reaction from you because jealousy is plain as first sight. the same sight he has on you that used to be so pure and loving is now darken like the night. practically having murder written all over him. the shadows of those finely carved features of that gorgeous face tensed up as he glared at you.

a travesty how you both are here heartbroken over the span of an innocent summer.

“oh I see now. you disposed me when your precious marriage was starting to crumble but now that your little plaything is with someone else you’re counting your losses. jealousy, Mayor Levinson, doesn’t look good on you.” his respond is nothing short of a few grunts and huffs of his stupid cigar.

“what, dollface? of course I would choose the stability of my marriage over a whore, and so what? are you jealous of Mrs. Levinson?” the condescending sweetness in Ari’s voice makes you grip the piece in your hand with a death like grip.

“as if.” — you walk towards him, murder practically plastered on those gorgeous facial features of yours and with each step it makes Ari darkly chuckle when he finally gets a reaction from you. until you stop right in front of him, not in the middle of his thick thighs but you’re willing yourself to not kick the golden spot between them.

“she knew herself what was going on when I accompanied you on those golf courses. she knew what you were doing when you excused us when I was over for dinner. she fucking knew what she found in your office draw wasn’t her underwear but mines—” every word you spit out drops in venom, each with the intention to seep into his skin and stop his heart from beating.

Ari could only manage a seething shut the fuck up but your counters are working since Ari’s heart paces rapidly in his chest on how you’re speaking of this matter so loudly for whoever in this plastic world can here. especially with your father and that school boy still inside and being able to hear. “now is not the time to talk about this.” he barks at you, a single hand of his rises to cover your mouth but you smack it away.

“your fucking wife knows of me and about me, and she knows. oh she knows, that no matter what, divorce or whatever strings she pulls to make you stay with her. that i’ve got you wrapped around my fucking finger—”

the statement is cut off with his hand wrapped around your neck. the same hand that displays the shiny golden band of empty vows that’s been torn to complete shred. bringing you down on his lap, lifting the hem of the dress and harshly stinging a sharp spank onto your ass.

once, twice, thrice; until you’re cries and whimpers are muffled into his hand.

“when I tell you to shut the fuck up I mean it.” Ari flares, hand still covering your mouth as you try to keep your cries to yourself as he keeps spanking your ass. “gonna bruise this ass all raw and sore, make it clear to that stupid boy who you fuckin’ belong to since you’re not sayin’ shit.”

taking handfuls of your ass, those fingers curl down around your thighs till they brush up against the wetness of your panties. “well would you look at that. my princess soaking through her panties with just a few spanks? is that what you need? for Daddy to spank that bratty ass to get off?”

you shake your head no but he only laughs at that, mocking you in this state of ditzy pleasure and offense. the hand that covers your mouth is removed to reveal your cupid bows a hazard of smudged cherry lipgloss. it instead wraps around your neck, and with that action that leaves you wetter makes you grit your teeth. those furious brows scrunch in their deadly form as he drinks in the single dark stream of your mascara running down your cheek.

they say a real gentlemen ruins your lipgloss and not your mascara but Ari Levinson isn’t any other gentleman. kissing you breathless and wiping that tear off with the width of his thumb, simultaneously rubbing your cunt through your panties till you’re moaning into his mouth.

“this little button is desperate for Daddy’s fingers isn’t it? c’mon princess, just say the magic words and Daddy can make the bad bad tingles go away.” still you hold your tongue and bite Ari’s bottom lip, making him growl as you grind harder on his lap.

“uh ah.” you whine into his mouth, curling your fingers through his thick amber hair till your fingers scratch against his scalp. a single one of his large hand glides down from the curve of your breast to reach the honey-coated fruit between those babydoll thighs.

relishing the way you squirm on his lap from the building pleasure. “why not dollface? you’re already making a sloppy mess on Daddy’s pants.” Ari taunts as he gripped the delicate cloth of your panties to the side. “don’t you see it, dollface? look at that, look at your sloppy pussy fucking against Daddy’s cock.” making your head dart down as you see Ari’s thick fingers rummage through your slicked folds.

whimpering and moaning when he he circles around your button and teases the ring of your hole just right. lapping up your saturation with his fingers and he smirks when he hears the wetness between your puffy pussy lips.

“it’s so easy to make you a needy slut when you’re in my lap sweetheart. get outta that head of yours and let your Daddy take care of you.” there’s no room for you to disagree when he’s stretching his ring finger in you, covering your mouth with his free hand when you gasp a moan.

that golden band wrapped around his finger cold against the velvety skin of your cunt, it’s disappeared completely with his single finger being knuckle deep in you. “Daddy missed this pussy so much princess. missed how it feels ‘round my fingers, almost forget how your tight needy walls squeeze ‘round me.” fragments of incoherent rambles erupt from you that are muffled with Ari’s hand, you just moan and blab your mouth off as he adds another thick digit.

“so warm and wet, fuckin’ missed this sweet little thing.” the older man rasps in your ear, feeling the material of his trousers become tighter with each second his cock throbs. “and maybe, if you’ll be a good girl and come on Daddy’s fingers. i’ll stretch you full of Daddy’s cock when you’re done dancing with your new boy toy.” a squeal yelps out of you when his hands comes striking down upon your ass.

solely for the pleasure of seeing it bounce as grind harder on his fingers. “how does that sound dollface? you’re gone cum for me? make a mess on Daddy’s fingers and pants? you really wanna get Daddy in trouble don’t you? have your sticky sweet cum all over me, you naughty fuckin’ whore.”

the pads of his fingers just increase their pressure, having you whimper and cry out into the palm of his hand to let you cum. “speak up dollface, you need to cum then you best ask for my permission first or date be damn.” he whispers before finally letting your mouth go, enjoying the breaks in your breath and the sweet little sounds of pleasure that fill the night air.

“please, let me come Ari. I-I promise I won’t talk like that to you again please—” you sob as his fingers scissor your walls open. crumbling against his chest from the pleasure until he pulls your hair to meet his gaze once again.

“no no dollface, haven’t you learned from the beginning I saw you? what’s the name you call me when your father isn’t here? what’s the fuckin’ name you use when my fingers are stuffed in your pussy and your grinding your whore cunt against my cock?” he seethes and it’s similar to thunder rolling.

“Daddy! please Daddy I needa come! Daddy pretty please.” you wail in his ear and Ari is close to covering that mouth again if he wasn’t so washed over by your sweet moans and whimpers.

“that’s what Daddy likes to hear. go on sweetheart, make a mess on Daddy’s fingers.” you’ve never been so scared in your life and Ari has never been so hard when you hear the talking inside come to a stop but never felt more excited for your date and your father to run in on you.

wrecked on your fathers best friends lap stuffed full with only two of his fingers.

amusing the man who’s lifting his hips to gain some friction of your cunt against his bulge. although when you least expect it, he pulls your hair for you to look straight at him. the sounds of his fingers continuing to pump in and out of your fluttering walls so close to reaching its euphoric peak.

reaching all the golden spots that made you melt and that’s why no matter if you’ve welcomed Ari he’d always pull you closer with every come hither motion as he stretched you out on his fingers. the pleasure dripping out of your sopping cunt slathering onto his iron-pressed trousers, specifically his crotch that you’re grinding on.

“Daddy i’m coming!” you whisper in his ear while attempting to hide your face in the crook of his neck. maybelline lips finding that sliver golden chain and pulling it between your teeth, licking the skin underneath it.

of course Ari doesn’t like that at all, despite the groans that hush out of him when you suck a raspberry stain against his bronze skin— he enjoys watching those crybaby eyes gloss over when you’re reaching your peak and he adores how you clench on his wide broad shoulders when you feel yourself cumming.

he loves watching you fall apart, just for him.

making you lock your eyes to his burning blues and you feel yourself slipping over the edge when his fingertips brush against that shiver of pleasure you’ve been keeping away for so long. creaming all over his fingers, his condescending praises fill your ears as he kisses your slightly tasseled hair.

“there we go, there’s my messy girl. always making a mess, it’s alright dollface. Daddy likes it when you make a mess.” he rasps as he licks his fingers clean.

that glistening gold ring he used to carry with loyalty and pride now coated sinfully in your cum. reflecting off the golden lights of the porch and you try to catch your breath, try to fix yourself up from the small wrinkles that form on your dress to the lipgloss you reapply.

trying desperately and ever so quickly to regain some form of posture while despising the cocky essence that radiates off of the ungodly man. big hands instinctively go to gripe your peachy ass and make you circulate your hips. feature light up in confusion yet when your sore and bare cunt rubs against his bulge, to his very intention and you scoff.

getting off his lap to finally finish up with a tiny heart shaped hand mirror in your hand. putting it back inside your handbag you’re satisfied that you cleaned yourself up well but there’s one thing you forgot…

your panties.

turning around, you see the white lace in Ari’s hands. using it to clean off the excess cum off his trousers but holding the panties in his grip possessively. almost putting it in his back pocket when he believed you weren’t looking.

until you’ve taken it from him, a sprints it with your perfume. taking the garment and holding it up in front of his face, making sure that he gets a whiff of your perfume and the arousal that soaked through the cloth. “go on Daddy, take them.” you smirk, waving the scandalous piece and rubbing the cloth slightly against his nostrils.

“just make sure Mrs. Levinson doesn’t find them this time.” you say and drop them in his lap, immediately afterwards with not a second to spare the front door opens and there you find your already tired date.

“- and just know this Mr. Wyler, if anything happens to my daughter I have a ‘45 and a shovel. I highly doubt anybody will miss you.” your father calls as Jake takes your hand into his sweaty palm and leads you to the sleek cherry beauty.

although you can’t help but smile that megawatt smile when you shout a cheerful goodbye to your father and can’t help but give a cheeky wink to Ari. smirking when you see him hide the garment in his back pocket, relishing in his glare and anticipating the next time your paths will cross.

but you are the daughter of his best friend and as you recall your father telling you, there’s a political dinner at the Levinson Manor to celebrate his re-election as Mayor.

and oh you cannot pass up that opportunity.

♡♡♡ thank you for reading! ♡♡♡ pretty please like, reblog and/or comment what you think and if you enjoy this join my taglist to be notified of my future works! ♡♡♡

𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 — @honeychicana . @winchwm. @honeyloverogers . @wonderlandfandomkingdom . @doubleleoenergy . @pink-crystal-ball . @sadthotsonlylove .♡

[strawbeariediary]

。・ ゜ʚɞ ゜・。𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 || 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 。・゜ʚɞ ゜・。

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || getting tired of the same old kisses as the only form of intimacy in this scandalous relationship between you and your new neighbor - a regular day of sunbathing, cloud watching and chewing on lemon strawberry mentos by your poolside isn’t the only thing on your mind when you call Mister Levinson over. hopefully you’ll keep this relationship a secret...

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 || alt. AU neighbor!ari levinson × [black//woc]fem!reader

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 || pure filth ➳ for @fairyevans 1K challenge

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 5K ➳ 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 || @firefly-graphics

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || 18+ nsfw, daddy kink, slight voyeurism, unprotected oral ( m + f receiving ), age gape: reader is twenty-three and Ari is forty, secret//forbidden relationship, reader is a spoiled brat, bit masochism and some dacryphilia, tittie//nipple play, some biting, dirty talk, alcohol + cigarette mention, fingering, blowjob//face-fucking, slight handjob, spanking + pussy slaps, choking, a few face slaps, it’s a little boring at first but dw! - MINORS DNI -

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 || telepatía by kali uchis. froot by marina. bel air by lana del ray.

𝐰. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 || hello hello sweet cherubs. this thought came out of absolutely no where and I really wanted to contribute to my beloved astro’s nsfw challenge. ☁️ love you astro lovely and I hope you enjoy this late contribution, i’m very sorry for being so late.🦋 I hope you dream girls enjoy reading this filth because duh we love thick daddy ari levinson porn here, ly 🥂

↬ p.s || you have absolutely no permission to repost, translate or plagiarize my work on any other fanfic platform such as: wattpad, ao3, tumblr, etc or steal my work all together in any form. do so and i will find out then rip your spine from your scumy asshole and shove it down your talentless throat. ♡♡♡  

summer love perfumes the golden afternoon.

kisses the peonies of admiration that have grown in your lungs every-time you inhale the nectar of flower fields and fruit orchards brought by the breeze. tickles the tulips that have rooted themselves in your heart chamber for a vase. shines against the Van Gogh almond blossoms that twirl into oblivion in your cartoon eyes.

summer love is as ambrosial and delicate as the heart shaped clouds that drift across the azure palette of limpid skies. suffocating and enthralling as twisting garlands of lemon camellias around your throat. freeing and flirtatious as the colonies of rivers engraved in perennial petals flowing through a freshwater stream.

from afar you might seem innocent, manicured nails keeping the Dior headband in place as your dewy hues dash to your cellphone, laying bear a basket of overripe peaches. a suppose sickness plagues your belly but that of course comes with the expectations of seeing your love for so long.

for understandable reasons, Ari Levinson is the forbidden fruit so rosy in the sunlight and the snake that represents your deepest desires said to take a bite. a little taste of the God for a man but here you are left with the core of him in your palm. leaving you both being damned with only the taste of peaches in your mouth and not his fingers.

being lovesick for a Levinson is a sweetly tart cocktail for precious devotion and restless rue, and you’re willing to sip from it till the rest of your days. till the heart shaped clouds above your head fade and the sky blue paradise dim, till you aren’t plagued with this summertime lovesickness.

a shiny speckle reflects off your squint eyes, shielded by the rhinestone sunglasses that rest on the slope of your nose. chin pointing up as you settle your phone down, pursed lips pulled into one of your famous pouts. shiny with a generous coat of melon gloss and the saccharine sunshine liquor you swish in your crystal glass.

you wished someone had told you the given caution when falling for the god of a man in the blue jeans and white tee shirt. despite him being new to this golden gated town of fruit orchards and limestone mansions- there must be a disclaimer that came with being that gorgeous.

‘cause whenever he walks into any room he makes the stars in your eyes and the cosmos in your core burn. makes your heart beat and pace to his lyrical rhythm, even carved his name in it when he first looked at you with those ocean eyes that made the lakes ripple at his will. smiled that porcelain smile that would make all the cotton cumulus clouds clear the blue sky in envy.

he is a God in every way and he made you feel the holiest when he called you his precious pearl, his divine dove, his gingerbread girl with a cigarette hanging from his lips. all the sweetest things that soften your strawberry jam heart whilst you offered him a tall glass of iced tea when he came over to the house. melting like butter when he kissed the bone of your peachy cheek under the shade of the fruit trees.

shifting the catalogue in your grasp, surrounding your cursive blue initials with pink cupid hearts and purple perennial flower bunches. the sugar crystals of the candy coated lemon mento dissolving on the warmth of your tongue. tasting just as sweet as the magazine cover completely written with your pretty cursive. the writing of Ari Levinson + Y/n L/n ━

it’s a tendency now, a bad habit but you don’t even realize that you’ve ruined the catalogue strip of the magazine in the gripe of your manicured hold with the simple reign he had over your mine.

tossing the magazine onto the sea-shell ottoman besides your sunbathing chair, you lay in your pool of sunlight. wondering if your friendly neighbor - or whatever your parents called him - is as lovelorn for you in every possible way...

if he is, how does he cope being away from you? you surely don’t know how you’re even surviving with just the kisses he gave you. they always yearned you for more, made you hungry for more as you tossed restlessly late at night. those burning blues and that thick coarse beard drifting in your dreams until you heard the morning birds sing their dawn song.

maybe Ari is being a gentlemen, being a real man who took his time with you. it made you swoon as you popped in another mento into your mouth, pursing at the strawberry flavor. the older man is nothing at all like the impatiently brash boys your age that you were so accustomed to. it makes you melt.

but if you remember correctly - in which you always do when it comes to him - it’s been a solid two weeks since you both seen each other.

been a solid two weeks without your fingers laced with his as you played pool in his garage. without his arms around your waist, smiling in the crook of your neck when you knocked all your solids in the tables pockets. without your lips touching each other’s when you won the game ‘cause he rolled the sinister eight ball in the wrong pocket.

throwing the victory in his handsome face as he took in the way you scrunched your nose when you laughed the laugh of ancient angel. pulled you closer for another kiss, all passionate and breathless but ending on a note much more softly reserved when you two had to depart.

as much as that sounds sweet and lovely like butterflies and ladybugs amongst the flowers... you need more. hungry for so much more than just his hands filling the nice space on your waist or his lips pressing against your temple. maybe with a fallen sundress strap or a peak of what hides underneath the expensive cloth of your Moschino skirts he would take you apart like you’ve always dreamed about.

there could be much more the two of you could do under the fruit trees...

so much more because the fruits of y/n l/n honey-coated body are coming into their ripening season. all she needs is Ari to gently pick each sweet smelling opal for harvest and beg for him to ruin them with his rosy fingered touch. to delicately sink his teeth in her soft peaches, to tenderly flick his tongue around her peak cherry buds, to savor the juices that would spill out from the shimmering strawberry in between her legs.

could he not see that your branches are heavy and need to be handled properly? could he not see you now - in barely nothing to cover the youthful plumpness of your thighs, the nave of your breasts and the curve of your hips? this orchard of bountiful fruits that need to be tame and tend to from his view atop the hills by his cobblestone palace?

dear god, how long is it going to take until he gets your voice message?

you can’t help not letting a single hand flow down to the golden spot between your legs. the shine of your manicured nails glowing sky blue against the sunlight once you rub and feel the wetness of your arousal.

oh my, oh my.

Ari isn’t even here but he still has his spell over you.

biting your bottom lip, stroking that delicate spot - even when you aren’t one to allow yourself to be wrapped around someone’s finger, you would give anything right now to have him order you to submit. to tear this tiny tease for a bikini then have him take you as his when his thick cock stretching your walls.

you stop your movements, gaining a subtle soreness that needs to be relieve with more rubs and a certain fullness but you aren’t going to do that. no no, Ari will be here soon. you’re going to live the fantasy you’ve been dreaming about ever since you set sights on him.

sweet you thinks this as you flip the next page of the fashion catalogue, throwing one heeled foot over the other as your collection of fluffy pens circle which recent collections are up to your taste. sighing in heavenly bliss, drifting your eyes closed when the suns rays seem to shine just about right upon your lotion legs and shoulders.

although that virtuous sensation is paused when a cloud eclipses the sun, casting a large shadow over you. scrunching your brows in annoyance, you take the liberty of downing the rest that’s in your crystal chalice. zoned out until the sound of a wolffish whistle brings you back to your surroundings.

sitting up and removing your sunglasses with a swift grab, you stare up at the man, the god, the whatever he may be as he smiles a smirk down on you. “Ari!” you squeal, practically jumping up to wrap your arms around him and pull him down for a kiss.

hello dove. you feel him speak against your mouth but it just gives you an opportunity to lick his lips apart, I missed you.

it’s unexpected that you were so upset about him earlier but transformed into a fluttering lovelorn mess with just a smile. although that same exchange doesn’t reach the blue of his eyes, darken with something as he watches your body shuffle under his gaze when you don’t pull away. wrapping his strong burley arms around your bare waist, Ari lifts you up and settles down in the chair bringing you with him.

it has your heart fluttering and your body vibrating under your skin with each glide his large hands touch. lips kissing yours like they’re the candied flesh of a glossy red apple, leaving no room for you to pull away for air but it’s a much better tragic ending to die from an endless kiss than not see him at all. your own hands rub through the muscle of his chest, fingertips curling with the chest hair that’s revealed from the unbuttoned button up.

you’re beautiful, you feel him rasp and he pulls your face closer to his. sometime ago when you lounged on the deck of his yacht as it rippled through the grand lake, Ari told you that his favorite color was blue. sky blue to be more specific and what a way to be his favorite everything, my beautiful baby.

his favorite girl in her sky blue bikini, sky blue heels, sky blue nails, and a sky blue headband.

his sky blue paradise

expensive cologne filling your nose and the scent of his toasted saffron hair curtaining the both of you before you glide it back in place. sunkissed legs twined together with his jean clad ones, positioning you comfortably on his lap. playing with a lock of his hair around your finger bedazzled with rings of gemstones and crystals of baby blues dazzling. taking your hand in his, Ari kisses each ring, each space between your fingers and the petal like indents in your palm.

“would you like a drink, Ari? I made you a big pitcher of ice tea. my speciality, ‘cause you always drink it up.” you shyly perk then giggle when he nibbles on your fingertips.

smiling around your single digit, he releases it but still keeps your hand in his grasp. leaning it against his cheek as his eyes dash down from your eyes to your lips. “you’re right as always, angel. but...”

Ari speaks, letting go of your hand to your disappointment although the warmth enveloped around your digits reappears as you clasps your hips. rubbing the material of the velvet blue Chanel bikini, burning blues inciting a trail of blue fire from the curve of your cleavage to the golden slope of your lower belly. “there’s something else I want to drink up and it’s sweeter than your ice tea, pretty girl.”

heart pounding with this given truth, dashing your mascara eyes from his thunderstorm like glance to stare shyly down at the golden chain around his neck. the gleaming Magden David contrasting against the sunkissed skin of his chest and surely... you’ve thought this before now but you never wanted to have it dangling above you like a star from the Heavens as you would lay underneath him.

shuffling against his lap, you retrieve your paper slot of lemon mentos. taking one in between your fingers and bringing it to his lips, opening up and taking the candy, you brush his lips when they close. “and what would that be, Mr. Levinson? surely I have something in the fridge or pantry that can ease this sudden thirst of yours.” you play along, a dangerous game but it’s only getting you wetter and wetter.

simultaneously it’s like his eyes are getting darker and darker, his minty breath hinting to the lemon mento and you wish that it was your pussy flavoring his tongue. “this thirst isn’t sudden my sunshine, you don’t have to worry about me. the only thing I want right now is to hold my pretty girl.” his hands don’t match that claim since they knead your hips, ghosting over the plumpness of your ass.

liar, liar, liar.

he only says this to reserve himself, he’s scared that he might break something that isn’t his.

liar, liar, liar.

he wants you, needs you - it’s as clear as the blue pigmented in the sky, as clear as the blazing star bringing its serenading warmth upon you two.

watching the sparkling water in the pool shine against the sunshine pouring in thick dandelion rays out of possession of the milky blueberry skies. a sudden urge to envelope your needy body in the cool water is stronger. “hold my shoes,” Ari instantly takes the powdered blue heels you slap on his chest.

getting up from his lap, you escape from the arms that you’ve been yearning for countless nights. ignoring his call from behind, with a few steps closer to the pool you take a dip.

if he won’t let you go to him, he’s gonna have to come to you.

the splash following afterwards is elegant and subtle, floating at the surface of the pool as you giggle at the glare plastered on his handsome face. you’ve gotten him a little wet and you give a faux pout, “what’s the sad face Ari bear? did I get you wet?” his glare only stays and you giggle even more when he places his hands at his hips.

“you’re gonna drive me crazy dove, you want me to go crazy?” he speaks almost exasperated, standing at the edge of the pools stone. so brooding and serious and not at all matching your carefree stature. heavenly body floating through the water elegantly like a swan and just as beautiful when you smile and nod in response.

“mhmm. I wanna drive you crazy, gonna make you wish you could have me. all of me just for yourself.” Ari quirks his brow at that, setting your heels down and taking another mento in his mouth.

lazily smiling down upon you when you give him a wink but pulls his bottom lip in his mouth when you throw your head back, moaning with parted lips at the waters coolness. Ari’s sapphires dashing to see your peaking nipples poking through the blue bikini, feeling his trousers tighten as his cock throbs.

“that wouldn’t be so hard, flower. you’re already mine, I made that crystal clear a long time ago.” Ari counters, laying your towel that was on the sea shell ottoman down when you decided to get out and stop playing with him. although it seems you’re playing a game with his mind with the spellbound hum you sing as you swim closer to him.

the opposite of a siren but it seems you’re pulling him closer to you with each perfectly chosen word that spills from those delicious lips of yours. you rest your folded arms over the stone near his standing figure, chin raised to the sky as you stare up at the man that’s taken over your mind.

“am I yours? you hide me like you’re afraid of me, you kiss me like your ashamed with yourself.” speaking so calmly on the matter that his heart breaks. that isn’t true. although Ari can’t say it aloud, you playing with the laces of his polished tar loafers then pull at his iron pressed trousers like a child. “sit with me Ari, I need to ask you something,” you beg with those Bambi eyes that make him question if his heart did have room for eternal love.

Ari obliges without a second thought and sits down, even takes off his shoes and socks to dip his feet in the cool water. anything to keep you pleased and to not undress you with his hard cock at bay. sitting in between his spread thighs, you keep your hands at his knees and his forearm. tracing the bulging veins as your palm rubbed his calf, making the older man’s head spin and his heart skip beats.

“w-what is your question y/n?” Ari breaks the swishing water silence and your light humming. with a tone slightly fed up because he is fed up with your behavior. Ari has no idea what you’re doing touching him like this, speaking to him like this but he knows it’s all working to your advantage.

“what, no angel? no dove? sunshine? seems your sweetness does have its end if I press your buttons.” pouting as you literally press against a polished button of his button up. sighing and frowning to himself, he takes your face in his hands and bends down to kiss your lips.

“i’m sorry sweet girl, what is your question?” Ari softly speaks as he strikes your cheek with his knuckles. taking in a deep breath when your raise, water dripping onto the alabaster stone and the dewdrops of water streams running down your body.

Ari drinks in the single streams from the column of your neck down to your plump tits. wishing he could lick it and he’d be sure to taste every cinnamon fleck on your skin. drink in your dark milk-honey hue so golden and dewy in the now bruised peach sunset.

no more blue skies but he still has sky blue paradise with him as she twines her fingers in his hair and brushes her lips against the shell of his ear. twirling his locks as she holds onto the nape of his back neck. “do I really make you crazy, Ari?” the airy question soft as the lick your tongue drags from the dangling skin of his ear to the thick tendons of his neck.

“mental angel,” he tries to answer without slipping a moan. however he can’t help not to shut his eyes when you suck on the skin covering his pulse.

“so, is it working yet Daddy?” the question is like a crack of lightening in the stone labyrinth of his mind. caught so off guard but this visit was unexpected, the lengths he’ll go to see you are just as obliged to the fact that he’ll let you do anything to him. play with his heart and let it break but two can play at that game, it’s time to exchange the same treatment.

those damn hands of yours still rubbing his loins, setting them afire as your lips make a sloppy pop! when they release his skin. leaving the older man breathless and speechless, craving for more like all good girls know how to do.

marking him as yours as you bite your lip at the raspberry stain against his tan skin glimmering in the peach essence of the golden hours. rubbing your legs as your hands creep up besides his pockets.

“what did you say?” Ari demands, astonished if you’ve truly driven him over the edge of his mind because he truly wishes he’s done something by now. by something anything that involves stuffing that dirty brat hole of yours with his cock and spank your ass raw. you’re truly asking for that.

“I said, am I driving you crazy yet Daddy?” innocence radiating off you as artificial as the traces of lemon mento on Ari’s tongue. the pull of his button covering his trousers zipper unbuttons suddenly, he stares at you and there you are glancing right back with the same lust.

zipping down his pants, the strap of your bikini falls off your shoulder and it’s sudden that Ari is both pants less and brief less. eyes taking in the thick and heavy girth of his rosy cock, red and dripping desperately in dewdrops of white pre cum. bigger than you ever imagined but you aren’t shy to wrap your hand around him - at least that’s what you think before he swats it away.

“did I say you could touch my cock? I know you’re a harlot but I didn’t take you for a stupid one.” those words should not make you want more but it’s evident to him as he sees you rubbing your thighs together in the sparkling water. “you want to suck Daddy’s cock pretty girl? want to have my thick dick in your mouth? i’ll give ya anythin’ to stop yapping that mouth off and use it for somethin’ useful.”

there are the storm clouds in Ari’s cobalt irises and the lightning strikes when he slaps your cheek to answer. not hard but not soft, it surely won’t leave a mark but you’re craving another slap on another pair of cheeks. “I do Daddy, I-I need it. I need it so bad please.” you break, it’s almost sad and the thunder cracks when he wraps his hand around your neck.

squeezing till your breath hitches and he smiles at how immediately you wrap your hands around his wrist. mumbling a pathetic and needy Daddy please when he takes his cock in his free hand, pumping it and the sight is enough for you to drool. I need it Daddy please let me suck you’re cock.

tears building up in your eyes and your bottom lip trembling like a scared dove. oh poor thing, Ari thinks but it’s come into contrast when he pulls you down onto his cock. “be a good girl and put that hole to good use, making Daddy feel good.” you see the soft glint in his eyes but you know it’s the only chance you’ll see it.

taking his dick in your hands, rubbing his impressive length up and down whilst spreading the white pre-cum till it dripped down his tightening balls. the gravely moans that erupt from his mouth are better then what you dreamt of, “stop bein’ a fuckin tease and put that whore mouth on Daddy’s cock ‘fore Daddy stuffs it himself.” that only makes you smirk, taking small kitten kicks on the crown of his head.

sucking on the weeping slit before taking him in the velvety warmth of your mouth. twirling your tongue around the thick girth and moaning at the salty taste of him. it’s sending the blood pumping up and down Ari’s body it makes him throwing his head back to the skies. mumbling those sweet nicknames he’s giving you that make you shine around his cock and his abdomen muscles tighten.

pretty girl, dove, angel, all those spill from his mouth in heavy gravely groans as you bob your head up and down. taking all of him in your mouth in a single file swallow until your back to sucking on his fat tip like a “dirty cockslut,” as you cup his sack.

Ari head thrown state still stands because god do you know how to suck cock, staring up at the pink and peach skies but in his mind he sees the serendipity of heavenly blues. with each suck and slurp you have on his cock when you bottom out but take him back in descends him to the clouds.

Daddy you’re delicious, you perk dumbly because how can you think when you have his cock to give you everything. Ari’s hand only goes down and pats your head before shoving it back down on his cock, thrusting his hips up. to build the fire burning his loins and the blinding light that’s streaking in his abdomen. good girl, keep sucking Daddy’s cock. so pretty, my perfect girl. my only girl, suck me dry.

holy fuck you think you might cream in your bikini at that but you keep yourself from gliding your fingers into the water to release your pussy. Ari peers back down at you, taking all of his thickness into you and swallowing him till his balls slap against your chin. hollowing your cheeks, you bat your lashes up at him and Ari thinks he’s going to burst.

but no, he can’t cum in your mouth, he fucking won’t. not when he has another wetter and even tighter hole between those beautiful legs of yours. it’s gonna take everything to keep him from fucking your sweet pussy and who is gonna stop him?

you and him are finally alone, not on a golf course in some country club with your mother and father playing along. reserving his eyes to not stare too long at your legs in your shirt skirt and not at some yacht party where he has to remember to stop calling you his pretty girl for prying ears to hear.

no, nothing stopping him from taking what’s his.

pulling you off his cock before smacking that pout off your face once more, he carries you out of the water and lays you on the towel he set out for you. tearing off that soaking bikini top that barely covered your tits, he throws it carelessly against the blanc-cassé stone. following your bikini bottom but not before spanking your ass, smirking at the way it jiggles. imagining if your tits would do the same that thought is interrupted with your begging, so sweet.

“Daddy please fuck me, please fuck me-!” you squeak another squeal when he lands another stinging spank but this time on your bare cunt. so vulnerable to his large calloused hands, a grunt rolls off his lips. “you have no fucking authority to tell me what the fuck to do. you take whatever I give you and you thank me for it.” spanking your cunt once more, this time to see it twitch and watch your hole clench around nothing. “do you understand?”

you feel like your soaring, you finally broke Ari Levinson to the bare elements that he is for you. “yes Daddy, I understand.” a whimper stuck in your throat along with a pout masked for a smile. Ari only scoffs at you before looking back to the treasure he cups with his palm. drinking in the way you squirm under him, throwing your ass back to him to receive more pressure.

that receives another pussy slap and a patronizing coo, you hide your burning face in your folded arms when your kissy clenches the air. “would you look at that pretty sight. my angel’s so needy that her cunt is swallowing nothing? do you need Daddy to make it better, baby? c’mon dolly, tell Daddy what you need and where you need it.” he coos with another stinging spank, a dark laugh filling the air like thunder and your heart paces.

Ari rumbles, roaming his thick fingers to your revealed pussy lips, gathering the wetness of your skirt before dipping a finger in it. “I-I need-” you can’t finish because he’s stroking your honeyed clit suddenly. stroking your files until he dips a single thick finger in your drenched hole, sucking it in and out and Ari moaned at the sinful sight. “Ari I need-”

again you can’t finish because he now is pumping in a second finger, making your body arch and throat cry out at the way he’s scissoring your cunt. “try again, who the fuck am I angel? what’s my name?” he growls, only increasing the speed of his fingers. the lewd music of your dripping pussy stuffed with his fingers is louder than the harmonious fountain near the golden gate of the backyard.

“Daddy! you’re my Daddy! please Daddy please!” you cry out as your nectar drizzles onto the pistachio towel. Ari is quick to scoop it up and take it in his mouth, humming at the taste of you so tangy.

making the atoms in your body vibrate furiously as your hands reached for your tits, “please what angel? c’mon, say what you need and maybe Daddy will give it to you.” biting your lip, twerking you nipples in the ecstasy Ari latches his eyes on them.

“my naughty girl’s too busy playing with her tits to pay attention? Daddy’s getting impatient sweetheart, i’ll have you anyway I want his you don’t get snap out that whore mind of yours.” the tone fierce and relentless as his finger that continue to stretch you out deliciously.

fuck he makes it sound so easy but he isn’t the one having their pussy stretched by his big digits.

it’s pure torture but you don’t know that Ari needs to prep you for his cock, now he’s just waiting for your approval. “I-I need your cock in my pussy, Daddy. needa feel you deep in my belly, need your cum to fill me up. please Daddy i’ve been nothing but your perfect girl please I need you to fuck me.” tears streaming down your cheek, as you let out a moan when his finger tips brith your golden spot.

Ari’s dark gaze is like a storm cloud, making you feel cold all of a sudden when he takes his fingers out of your cunt. glistening in your pussy juices. shiny and smelling so delectable, tasting even better than all the mentos that filled his mouth. a single droplet of your wetness bringing harmony to his tongue, and god he needs it to coat his dick.

maybe have you lick his cock and balls clean once he dumps his load in you.

leaning down till his body is flesh against yours and the suns rays burn divinely against the muscles structure of his back. Ari takes your mouth into his, letting you taste the sweetness of yourself on his tongue as his lips, pink and smooth of pearl silk mold into yours. thick cock bobbing in between his thick thighs, the fat tip teasing your soaked slit burning from his rough hands. willing to pierce into your clit then the depth of your hole but he just wraps his hand around your pretty throat when you whine at the contact.

“Daddy fuck me already!” you snap and suddenly he bites your shoulder, causing you to cry out. it’s sharp and it’s going to leave teeth marks but I guess it’s only fair for him to mark you as his property like he did with him.

“that’s what i’m going to do you ungrateful brat. don’t fuckin make me flip you over face down and ass up, Daddy isn’t so polite in that position.” Ari growls and the shivers that run down your spine and vibrate your core just warm you up even more. “you want me to fuck you like an angel or cheap whore? take your pick, I’ve got all fucking day.”

just fuck me stupid you old fuck. the slap you receive leaves you speechless but it’s what you want, along with his hand wrapping around your throat. can’t help but slip a vixen smile when his angry eyes lock with your playful ones. wanting to fuck that smile off your face and you’ll be fucking lucky if he allows you to cum.

“do I have to remind you who the fuck you’re talking to? you have no right to talk to me like that, open your fucking mouth.” he snaps and you obey as he squeezes tighter. not expecting him to spit in your mouth, some dripping down your chin till he rub it all over your face. “there’s my stupid whore. my dumb cry baby, cry. cry those pretty angel tears, baby cry. gets my cock so fuckin hard.” tears stinging your eyes and that smile long gone, it’s Ari’s turn to smile as he finally slips in you.

slow because he himself isn’t used to your tight walls, waiting for you to adjust to his massive size. burning and stinging so damn good that you’re scratching crescent moons on Ari’s back like a painter creating on his canvas. with a moan of approval for him to go harder, his hips rock into yours torturously slow.

the sound of your wetness being pierced with the fullness of his fat cock makes your head dizzy, your channel fluttering around him till he moans in your ear in approval. tongue licking the scope of your neck as his large hand kneads your tits, sucking into your neck as he rolls and rubs the soft area around the hard nipple.

“you like it when Daddy plays with your tits pretty girl? they’re the perfect handful, so fuckin perfect.” Ari groans digging his knees in the towel and thrust into your creaming pussy. “yes Daddy! I love it, don’t stop please.” you whimper your approval and just like that both hands knead your tits. giving them the best attention with each roll of your nipples, slapping them every now in then when you squeezed around him.

enjoying the show of your doll face clouded in sheer pleasure, under his blushing face. the scratch of your blue nails onto his golden sand back as well as his beard against your neck turning your skin hot and raw. God you’re fucking perfect, how you’re real goes against all laws of reality but here he is fucking your cunt full of him so you must be real.

all his, only his.

gripping your jaw, he gently angles your face that watches where your bodies interlock to meet his face. those thunderstorm eyes that quaked the Earth to his mercy seem to have calmed, with his arm holding your body closer as his thrust become more sloppy. gasping at the impact when his cock brushes against your gold spot so close to breaking you, Ari takes it as a sign to go harder.

“i’m so close Daddy, i’m so close please!” you gasp, holding those strong sunkissed shoulders and curling your blue nails in his hair. “yeah? my pretty babies close to cumming?” Ari grunts, feeling himself almost close to spilling his spent inside you. it’s so fucking tempting, to paint your velvety walls with his thick ropes of cum.

it’s tempting but what’s even more tempting his pumping his cock till his cum paints your belly, tits and thighs. the thought takes over his mind and it makes him feral, ramming his hips harder into yours till your crying from the pleasure of having his cock hit your special spot once, twice thrice.

crying for him to please let you come and he only silences it with a bruising kiss, beard scratching against your skin. it makes you meek in his mewl and he drinks it up like your a cup of minty iced tea, kissing those tears lovingly and cupping your face.

“are you gonna be a good girl and be Daddy’s dirty secret? gonna be my obedient fuck doll forever?” he grunts, pumping his cock in and out of your sopping cunt in a vigorous pace. it makes your eyes gloss with tears and he licks them when they spill, taking care of you as he whispers how much he loves you.

“y-yes Ari. i’m yours, forever.” you whisper against his ears and his heart soars and he really does feel he might collapse. kissing you again, it’s not as hard as before but soft and tender like all the times he’s kissed you before but this is special because now he’s ordering you to cum. to spill your juices for him on his cock as he presses buttery kisses to your mouth making you feel so sweet and angelic.

body on fire you cum all over him hard and heavily, soaking both your thighs and leaking lots of access on the towel. singing your sweet noises as he pumped his cock harder into you as he reached his high with the help of you. dragging his teeth back to your shoulder to muffle the groans, he pull at his hair and whisper the dirtiest things in his ears.

keeping the vision of your tits bouncing with each of his cock rams bottoms in and out engrained in his memory forever. with just one look of yours eyes trained and the lovely of your lips whispering, cum for me Daddy - Ari feels himself letting go, bottoming out of your pussy he spills his load all over your exposed and sloppy pussy.

and just like the peaceful quiet after the storm, Ari collapses ontop of you. all that tired muscle of his naked glory glistening with sweat and tears, he pants in the crook of your neck whilst inhaling you. both you lay there until your pacing hearts tune down to their regular beats and the heaving in your chest calms. although through out it all Ari regains his composure and takes care of you.

in spite of all those things he said while you were greedily taking his cock, he hasn’t once lied to you.

you are his and he is yours.

you know this in the way he pulls you so impossibly close when you tell him you need to hear him say he loves you. in the way he says the three syllables, while he tends to cleaning up your body, in the way he makes you smile and giggle when he presses butterfly kisses from your belly to your lips.

this relationship maybe what drives both your morphine highs and fills your hearts like the sun in the sky but you both relay on one another. a secret you both are to one another because you’re the cause for Ari Levinsons lovesickness and now you finally know that he’s deeply as lovelorn as you are.

♡♡♡ thank you for reading! ♡♡♡ pretty please like, reblog and/or comment what you think and if you enjoy this join my taglist to be notified of my future works! ♡♡♡

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[strawbeariediary]

to the sixteen year olds and general minors interacting with my work please respect my fucking boundaries this is exhausting. I just created this blog and i’m going to protect myself from whatever lengths to keep minors from interacting with my work.

this space is 18+ for a reason. do not read my work and do not try and come in contact with me. I already blocked ten people and i’m not afraid to block more who even feel suspicious.