#me this shirt. peak old man moment for me

[landojpg04]

MDNI slight suggestive and language

Ghost definitely has a motorcycle and a truck. He'll drive the truck when he knows it'll be a long day doing intel and paperwork. But especially on a Friday when the workload is light, he’ll come in on his bike knowing he’ll be able to enjoy the ride.

He started riding the bike more when you gave the comment-

Guys who ride motorcycles are ten times more attractive with their bike

You didn’t say it to him per se but rather to a friend of yours on base, and he overheard. He likes to think that the bike is his good luck charm, as you agreed to a first date when he drove it. But despite you loving the bike as much as you loved him, he never let you on it. Always exclaiming it would be too dangerous.

He's in the garage, music playing lightly from the speaker as he cleans and messes with some of the gears. You watch in awe at the door. Never in a million years did you think you would be here. In Lt’s old t-shirt, sipping tea and watching him indulge in normalcy on a Sunday afternoon. When you transferred to the base, you always heard rumors about the man behind the mask and the name Ghost. But behind that was this man full of love.

“Enjoying the show, darling?” He said, looking up from the bike to see you.

“Just admiring.” You said.

“The bike or the rider?” He said smirking.

You admired and mirrored that smirk. Something you thought you would never see in your lifetime. But after trials of trust, the mask and guards came down, bearing all the luggage, and past to your welcoming arms. 

“Both,” you said, walking over to him. He was seated on a chair and leaned back to welcome you in between his legs. 

He peered up, his eyes glimmering in the sunlight that peaked through the window.

“Let me ride.” You said, peering down.

“You can ride me anytime.” He said, being cheeky.

You groaned at his antics and pouted towards him.

“Do you not trust me on your precious baby, Si?”

He looked between you and the bike. It wasn’t that he didn't trust you. He knows how dangerous riding is. He doesn’t want to let you on just in case something happens. He’s come to terms with something happening to him a long time ago. But you. He just got you and would put you in a bubble if it meant keeping you safe. 

“I trust you. I just don't trust others.” He says, moving a piece of hair from your face. He moves his hand to cup your jaw. He guided you to his lips for a quick peck.

You leave your forehead on him while he moves his hands down to your hips.

He can tell you were annoyed with your answers. You guys bonded over this bike and he truly believes that being able to ride it one day was the only thing keeping you around.

That was far from the truth. You just wanted to straddle something other than Simons's dick.

He stood up and moved you to the side.

He pushed the brake down and moved to the back of the bike.

"We can start with basics. Posture and positions." He said looking at you.

Stunned by his answer and quick change in answers, you didn't move till he said, "Ok, I guess you don't want to." You feet quickly moved to stand by him.

He went through the basics, teaching you how to mount and where to keep your feet. After, it was your turn to demonstrate your understanding. You go to the side and lift a leg to straddle the seat.

Simon from the back saw how you were a natural at this. Your ass is plump on the seat you lean to hold the handles with a slight arch in your back. Simon thought to himself why he hadn't let you do this earlier. He was so caught up in how good you look he didn't even hear you ask him if what you were doing was good.

You looked over to see him in a daze. He quickly grabbed his phone and took a photo of you on his bike, clad in his boxers and old t-shirt; every inch of you screamed that you were his. And he never loved anything more than this moment right now.

He walked to the front of the bike.

"Is this alright Si?" You asked him when you finally are met with his face.

He just smiled and leaned in to kiss you.

"My gorgeous girl on my bike," He said in between kisses.

You giggled and removed your hands from the handles to his neck and shoulder.

"Get off the bike and get inside right now." He said, pulling away. Laughing, you got off and felt a slight smack hit your ass. This was definitely not your last time on his bike.

[joelsflower]

love language | origins!logan x f!reader

logan told you one million times he didn’t want anything for his birthday… anything besides you, lingerie and the moonlight.

a/n: hiiii <33 lis disappeared but is back again and apparently still obsessed with the concept of hot old men unwrapping you like a present. the hugh jackman fever hit me VERY hard and im down bad cough cough enjoy! also to enhance the experience when i say “he looked up at you” pls picture him exactly like in this picture ☝🏼and expect to feel something growing in ur belly in the next 9 months

wc: 4k

warnings: 18+ mdni. pure smut and fluff!! lingerie, logan is obsessed w reader, older!logan (i picture him in origins cause wtf is this man and reader in her early/middle 20s but up to you! legal ofc!!) fingering and eating out but brief cause reader is hot to go!, blowjob, facefucking & deepthroat (not rough), unprotected piv (wrap it up!), creampie, AFTERCARE!!! like SO MUCH logan is soooo soft!dom in this the whole time is like toothache sweet cause it’s a lis fic and yes. they are IN LOVE yall. oh and also reader is a kindergarten teacher (oops

🎀🎀🎀

“Stay”

You grabbed his wrist the moment he recollected his will to leave the end of the bed. Logan’s eyes turned soft, finding you from over his shoulder and turning around to follow the sunlight that kissed your cheeks.

“I wish, angel,” he cooed, both hands brushing your cheeks while his body towered over you “but someone already made me late, huh?”

You gave him a shy smile to meet the smirk that adorned his features, both of you sharing the memories of your bodies tangled just minutes prior. “Wanted to give you a present,” you almost whispered, remembering the one hundred times he told you he didn’t want anything for his birthday.

Not a cake, not a present, not a party. Nothing. Just you.

Logan’s smile faded, but you knew he wasn’t mad. With large hands embracing your neck softly, he kissed you on the forehead, “told you,” on the nose, “you are,” on the jaw, “the only thing i want”, and on your mouth, leaving the taste of him to linger on your lips throughout the whole day.

Your eyes slowly drifted up to find his gaze, the back of your head now resting on his palms.

“Promise” he gave you a sterner look before walking towards the door, “I promise,” you whispered, following as the smile you had earned earlier returned to his face, his back only turning to you when he heard the words fall from your lips.

But it was only a half promise. After all, he still wanted nothing but you, right?

🎀🎀🎀

The day passed by very slowly. You didn’t work on fridays, so you spent the most of it correcting some grades and planning the activities for your next week’s classes. You missed the kids, you can’t lie, and having glue and glitter all over your house definitely distracted you from the little something that was waiting patiently inside a very fancy box on the back of your closet.

The sun was setting around the time Logan would be home and you also had finished all the things you had planned earlier, so you used the time you had to take a shower and get ready.

The scent of some very sweet flower graced your nostrils when you pulled the lid of the heart-shaped box. Your eyes glowed in awe when your fingertips brushed the delicate baby pink lace, the little hairs on your lower belly goosebumping with anticipation, thinking how beautiful you’d feel in it and how the man that loved you would feel about you in it.

And that’s when you heard his steps on the stairs.

Logan arrived silently, and in part to make sure you hadn’t burnt yourself out making some sort of surprise for him. It’s not that he didn’t trust you, but all the glitter and glue on the table and the all the silence scared him a bit.

“Baby?” He called you while undressing himself down to his black t-shirt and boxers. “Oh, hey you,” his expression softened when his eyes found your head peaking from the bathroom door, gaze savoring the sight of him slowly unbuckling his belt.

“How was your day?” you asked watching him from the same spot, the muscles of his arms flexing when he reached to close the door and turn off the lights. Exactly how he said, the only things he wanted for his birthday were you, the lingerie he still didn’t know about, and the moon watching the two of you through the window.

“Great. Apparently someone told the guys it was my birthday and they let me work on paper today. So… Not so tired as I usually am.”

“I’m not sorry for that,” you smiled, knowing exactly who told the guys it was his birthday.

“I know,” he reciprocated your smirk, offering a hand in your direction. “Come here.”

Your breath got momentarily caught in your throat, excitement bursting in your body like fireworks in your veins.

“Close your eyes,” you said.

“Sweetheart-“

“Please?”

And how could he not? When your soft voice asked so nicely for him to? And the sweet and at the same time sexy scent of your perfume bewitched his thoughts? With your eyelashes blinking up at him and making the cold of his claws run to the lower of his spine? If closing his eyes would end the distance between you, then he would.

You then stepped carefully towards him, trying not to bump onto his knees and ruin the surprise.

You took both of his hands within yours, playing his fingers with your smaller ones. The simple contact made him shiver, the warmth of your presence washing all his tiredness and worries away.

“Could sit here with my eyes closed and just smell you forever”

You grinned. You knew his senses were heightened and definitely wanted to play with it tonight.

“Well, you told me you didn’t want to receive anything,” you then brought his hands to the sides of your thighs, the firmness of his palms on your soft skin sending shivers up and down your belly.

“Not totally true,” he thumbed your leg, fingertip brushing dangerously close to the fabric.

“Mhmm,” your hands glued on top of his and guided them a little lower, his palms now resting on top of the delicate, lacy garters adorning your thighs, “but I want you to feel it.”

Logan’s thoughts were in completely caos. Which of course, could only be translated by the grin on his face. You were close enough that he could not only smell your perfume and your scent, but knowing that he was the one causing that and with so little effort drove him insane. He could hear your accelerated heartbeat and used the grip on your legs to soothe you, moving his thumbs up and down, up and down, very slowly, feeling the contrast between the lacy fabric and your thighs.

“Yeah?”

You agreed silently, using your grip to move one of his hands all the way up to your belly in a very slow motion, to then release them both and let Logan’s fingers dance freely around your body.

The one hand he kept down gripped your thigh harder, snaking down to the back of your knee to bend it over his own leg, giving him better access to the rest of you. The thumb on your belly caressed around of your belly button in small circles and traced all the little flowers and bows on the thing garter that hugged your waist and decorated your breasts. The image being painted on Logan’s mind was already enough to make his underwear start to stiffen.

“Oh, baby,” he breathed, and it felt like the first fresh breath he had taken in the day.

The contrast of his rough digits with your delicate skin made your body a too tight space to contain yourself, inching closer to him at every touch. He then surrounded your middle with both of his arms and gave your stomach a kiss, your fingers playing with the hairs on the nape of his neck when he moved his face upwards, his chin rested on your tummy, eyes inching to meet yours.

“Can I see you, princess? Please?”

You hummed a quiet “mhmm”, and when he looked up at you with the most lovelorn eyes you had ever seen, you weren’t strong enough to hold back and kissed him.

It felt like the first kiss you two have had in a lifetime; deep, warm and wet. Your tongues danced together while his arms kept you impossibly closer, hands tightly holding from the back of your thighs to the top of your spine. When you parted to breathe, his eyes found yours again;

“There’s my girl. Let me see you, baby,” he held your hand in his and you took his signal to do a little spin, showing him your lacy one-piece.

“Happy birthday, love” you whispered, hands resting on his shoulders to balance yourself, one leg returning to rest on his.

“So you’re my present, hm?” Logan waited for you silent confirmation, palms devouring your thighs and ass while the kisses that he so gently placed on your knee slowly inched forward, “and do I get to unwrap you, angel?”

At that moment your walls were already pulsing with desire and your mind was already empty of words. You felt his lips wrap at a very special place on your inner thigh while his opposite hand moved up to message one of your boobs. You knew it wouldn’t take much for any of you to release control and quit the teasing, and being both on the verge of bursting the whole day waiting for the other, that was the time and the place.

You whimpered when his hand moved down and cupped your clothed center, his lips now distributing pecks on your hip while your nails dig in his shoulders.

“Gonna let me taste you, sweet girl? Hm?” He kissed your beating clit trough the lace and you nodded your head fastly, not being able to hold back anymore. You knew very well the animalistic look he had on his eyes now and the way his hands couldn’t rest in just one spot; he wanted nothing but to devour, explore and adore you.

With your consent, Logan wasted no time in sliding the delicate fabric to the side to meet your leaking pussy. The groan that left his chest when he saw your juices dripping to down your legs put your whole body on fire, followed by the cold that ran through your veins when two of his digits gently spread your lips apart.

“Fuck, look at you,” his thumb toyed with your clit, drawing little circles with a small pressure of the pad, “that’s how wet this little pussy gets for me, hm? Left you waiting the whole day to take care of you… Bad ol’ man, ain’t I?”

“N-no, you’re g-ood,” you managed to take the words out, eyes rolling to the back of your head and nails digging impossibly deeper into his shoulders when his digits lowered down and teased your opening, “and I wanna. Fuck. Wanna be good for you, Logan.”

“Oh, you are, princess. You’re my best girl.”

Pressing your clit between his lips and tongue, he sucked and savoured on it as if you were the source of all life on the planet, the most succulent fruit to the most starving man, like he himself once said; the sweetest thing he had ever tasted. His fingers pumped in and out of your hole rhythmically, hitting deeper and deeper each time. His other hand gripped your ass tightly and pressed your lower body impossibly closer to his face, making you moan loudly with all the stimulation.

You felt your walls start to clench his digits and pulled his head back by his hair to join your mouths in a wet, hot kiss, your other hand slowly removing his own from your sopping pussy, your shaking legs leading you to straddle him.

In his lap, the kiss only deepened; your and his movements were desperate, constantly searching for each other. You gripped his shirt by the collar and helped him take it off of his body, his muscular torso greeting you. Your hands eagerly pressed against his chest while Logan dig his fingers deep into your waist and moved you back and forth, your cunt pooling his underwear with the grinding of your exposed center on his throbbing and neglected cock.

“Wait- Logan, wait,” you pulled his roots again, making him moan.

“I’m here,” he rest his forehead on yours, fingers playing with the ends of your head while your breaths and heartbeats found the other’s rhythm.

“Wanna suck on you”

“Get on your knees for me then,” he demanded after a moment staring at you, trying to hide in his smile the excitement that flooded through his body.

You removed your body from his finding balance on his shoulder, lowering down to your knees on the carpet with the help of his arms around you.

He looked so, so beautiful like this. His prince hair and strong shoulders outerlined by the glowing moonlight that touched his back. His arm muscles tensin when one palm rested on his thigh and the other lowered down to finger-kiss your face. The “thank you, I love you” look he had on his eyes the whole time you were together. Who wouldn’t get get on their knees for this?

“That’s it princess, comfortable there?” You nodded and spread his legs a little, giving you space to kneel closer. He gave you another peck on the lips and moved his hands to rest flat on the bed, giving you all the freedom to do your thing.

You started by running your hands up and down his thighs while kissing down his abdomen, the thick path of hairs on his belly tickling your lips. Slowly, your hand snaked to his boxers while your mouth kept him distracted, licking the angry veins on his happy trail.

You palmed him eagerly, the volume of his member filling your whole palm and a little more. This first contact was enough to earn a raspy groan from his chest and some beads of precum that pooled on the little wet patch between his tip and boxers, where you butterfly-kissed before finally putting his underwear down.

You used your hands to spread his precum down and pump him a bit, desperate to have him in your mouth, you kept moving up and down while your mouth lowered to wrap around his tip, nursing on it like it was your favorite lollipop.

Your messiness has Logan seeing stars. Spit and precum was all over your face already, tongue darting up and down his shaft with desire. He almost screamed when your fingers played with the very top of his head and you lowered your mouth to his balls, suckling each into your mouth carefully.

“Jesus baby, that’s my girl, fuck-“

But it wasn’t enough. You were starved for him, for his pleasure. You waited the whole day to see his mouth hanging in bliss and you also wanted him to have what he wanted. You took his mouth of off his balls and kept lazily stroking him, lashes batting up to meet his eyes, “Fuck my mouth?”

Logan couldn’t believe how such a cute thing like you could look so sexy saying such filthy words. He loved it.

“Are you sure?” You nodded.

He then motioned for you to scoot back a little so he could get up, positioning himself in front of you, now both of you in front of the bed, sides facing the window.

He could die like this. The last thing he would ever see in his life could easily be you, on your knees, fucked out face with his precum and spit all over your face, with the moonlight reflecting on your rounded eyes just waiting for him to love on you. And he would die peacefully.

“Gonna start real gentle, ‘kay?” he assured you while brushing your hair back to hold it in his hands, one wrapping around the strands at the back of your head and the other holding his member.

“Lemme see this pretty tongue, baby’” he waited for your mouth to hang open and positioned his tip on top of your waiting tongue, tapping and circling it there. Logan kept teasing you (and himself) for a moment like this, smearing the leaking tip of his cock all over your mouth, tracing your tongue and lips at a torturing pace until he understood the desperate look in your widened eyes and scrunched brows, a silent “please”.

“Shh, gonna give you what y’want, princess. Suck on the tip, hm? Just the tip. Like you were doing before,” you loved when he ordered you around like this, especially when he looked so big towering over you and his voice was so low and deep like it was right now. You wasted no time in closing your already plump lips around him and deliciously suffocating his bulbous head in your mouth.

“That’s it bub, fuck. That’s my girl,” he loved when you were so obedient like you were right now during sex, his own little princess. His free hand stroked the part of his cock that wasn’t enveloped by your lips, using the mix of your spit and his own precum that was everywhere by now.

Your hands left your lap to dig into his thighs and your movements started to get more shallow, eyelids heaving and lashes blinking slowly up at him. You knew what you wanted, and Logan knew too, and he was gonna give it you.

The hand that was on his cock moved up to hold your jaw and the back of your head, inclining it up a bit so your face was now completely turned to him. This simple move of his already made his cock slip a little further into your mouth, taking a moan from both of you.

“Shhh, angel, yeah, that’s it,” his firm hold in the back of your head allowed you to stop moving and he slowly started to move his hips, pumping his cock in and out of your mouth carefully to not gag you. Not right now, at least. “Gonna give it to you slow, baby. You can take it, can’t you?” He knew an answer for you wouldn’t be exactly available at the moment, but you gave your best to manage out a nod, “know you can, bub.”

Logan kept his pace for a while before roughening and fastening it a bit to prepare you, tightening his grip on your head and steading the movements of his hips, his cock now halfway into your mouth, in and out, in and out. He felt your lips and throat loosening and the gagging sounds leaving your lips were driving him insane, his bones were on fire from keeping back and not just fuck your throat like he (and you) wanted.

When his tip kissed the edge of your throat you let your eyes close and your hands fall to his calf, letting him know you were ready, “just a bit more, sweet girl, just-“ his tip entered your throat with ease, curving a bit to follow its anatomy. When your lips finally touched the hairs on his base and his whole cock was seated into your hot mouth, he stilled completely.

You could hear his heavy breathing as if he ran a marathon in five minutes. The silence between the two of you letting you know that if he said or did anything he was surely cuming at that right moment. Logan’s eyes were closed and his head turned to the ceiling, brows furrowed trying to contain himself.

Your fingers caressed his leg slightly, reminding him you were ready, and when his gaze turned down to give you attention, dark and serious, like a big wolf preying down a little bunny, you knew what he was feeling. It faded quickly though when his eyes found yours, his rough expression turning into a smile, “you’re my best girl, aren’t you? That’s what y’wanted babe? To choke on my dick?”

You blinked your eyes assuringly, the heaviness of your eyelids taking a sexy, deep laugh from his chest. His hand left your head momentarily to caress your cheek with the back of his point finger, “think you can swallow for me?” he whispered.

You’ve done that before, and the feeling was nothing like anything you’ve ever experienced, the both of you. And you felt that it was coming by the calm and patient way he was dealing with you tonight. Logan was always careful to ask for things that edged your limits, always trying his best to keep you safe and comfortable. And who were you to deny the birthday boy what he was asking for?

You prepared yourself and slowly clenched your throat, suffocating his tip in the curve of it. Tears involuntarily pooled and fell from your eyes with the overstimulation and the feeling of oh, being so full of him, of his cock angrily pulsing in the whole extent of your mouth and now your throat. Logan’s eyes turned to the back of his head and his mouth hanged open, his fingers flexing in your hair to not lose control.

“O-one more time ba-“ and before he could even finish his sentence you were swallowing him down again, this time earning a loud and raspy groan from him, “fuck! baby, c’mon,” he carefully pulled himself from your mouth, cock hanging angry and desperate from your activities. “Need to feel you,” and kissed you hungrily.

He pulled you by your arms and intertwined them around his neck, tapping your bum slightly in a sign for you to jump in his lap. Logan was careful to drop you on the bed, never parting your lips and laying with his whole body weight on top of you. The hairs on his chest feathering over your nipples and the kiss of his tip over your folds were growing in you a type of desire you couldn’t quite decipher.

Sweat, spit and love were everywhere, your bodies swayed under the moonlight as if you were one. While your tongues fought for space into the other’s mouth, he reached a hand down and starting to thumb your clit, applying a delicious amount of pressure that had your mouth unplugging from his with a whine. When you felt his head finally circling your hole, you released him and turned around.

“Like that?” Logan watched as you switched positions, large palm finding your lower back while you placed yourself tummy down on the bed. “Can we?” you whispered, looking at him over your shoulder.

Logan smiled; if you kept being this cute he was going to fuck the sense out of you without effort. His other hand reached behind your knee and lifted it, giving him more easy access to you. Positioning himself into your entrance, he slipped his cock up and down your folds, your juices mixing in a squelching sound.

When he felt your hole flutter and your eyes close, your smaller fingers gripping the sheets, he reached up and kissed a drying tear in your cheek, “shhh baby, g’na go slow, ‘kay?” you nodded. There’s no exaggeration, Logan was big. Big and wide and veiny and filled you in all the right places.

The moment his head eased into you, you were seeing stars. The way your walls spread to welcome his girth made your mind fuzzy and all your senses heightened, the moan he left ecoed in your brain and the touch of his hand embracing yours burned like fire. He slowly pressed forward until his cock was perfectly engulfed inside you, both his member and your walls pulsing in unison.

“Move,” you mewled, fingers gripping his thumb in need. Logan used the hand on the small of your back to balance himself, starting to pump in an out at a perfect pace; not so fast but not so slow, deep, deep as he could to kiss every inch of your cunt and rearrange your insides.

“Pussy so warm, angel. Gripping me so tight,” he sad in your ear, “my little sweet gift.”

Stars exploded all the way down your spine, the fullness of his cock pumping your pussy and the weight of his body pressing on top of yours drove you over the edge, your walls gripping him tightly while you came, bringing his thumb into your mouth.

“That’s it, sweet girl, come for me,” he kissed your temple, “gush this cock, it’s all yours,” Logan slowed his pace inside you to let you calm down, caressing your hair and distributing kisses around your teary eyes.

“Think you can take a bit more, princess?” he whispered gently in your ear, his cock still throbbing inside you, “just a bit and I’ll be done. So I can fill your pussy up and good? Keep you full and plugged with me, hm?” You nodded with his thumb still between your lips and felt his hips meet your ass again.

It was so good. The overstimulation had you throbbing nonstop and your head in the clouds. Logan’s groans and moans were music to your ears along with his “that’s it, princess, fuck”, “whose’s pussy is this, hm? All mine to fuck and love on, ain’t it?”, “yeah, baby, that’s my sweet girl. Taking it so good f’me”, until he himself could take anymore, his cock pulsating and balls stiffening, until his voice got muffled by a low groan and you felt his seed fill you completely, gushing your insides and spilling down and off your walls.

“Fuck, fuck,” he whispered, tired. His forehead rested on your temple as you both calmed down, breathing harmonised. Logan awaited until you opened your eyes and delicately pulled his thumb from your mouth, brushing your hair off of your face.

“Hi,” he smiled.

“Hey,” you reciprocated, receiving a little peck on the lips, that turned into many many kisses all over your face while his palm messaged your back. “Thank you, sweetheart. Gonna pull out now, ‘kay?”

While Logan left to the bathroom to clean himself and find a cloth to clean you, you rested your chin on your forearms and stared up at the full moon through the window, sweetly reminiscing the last hour and thanking her for him. On moments like these all your mind could process was Logan Logan Logan.

“Here, bub,” he carefully whipped the fluids from your pussy, the pair of you giggling when you clenched in sensitivity, “c’mon, I draw the bath.”

You hand Logan spent another hour in the warm bath, cleaning and caressing and stealing kisses while the bubbles danced on your skin. You rested your head on his chest and lifted one finger, using the others to simulate a lighter to lit up the “candle”. “Here, make a wish,” you motioned it in front of his face, taking a laugh from him, who closed his eyes and made some funny faces to amuse you. He then blew your finger and playfully bit it, “what did you wish?”

“Well, I can’t tell you, can I?”

You kissed him and closed your eyes, laying back to your position on his shoulder.

“You. You’re my only wish.”

🎀🎀🎀

[ozzgin]

Yandere! CEO Headcanons

Just a little idea I had some time ago of a rather bizarre dynamic: a CEO with no time to spare, introduced to a young student his wife befriended. Perhaps he does have a moment, after all. (I need to dump my preference for a cultured older man somewhere)

Content: female reader, age gap, older yandere, NSFW, dating the wife is optional

[Original works masterlist]

Yandere! CEO who is in his mid 40s and terribly invested in his job. So much, that he and his wife agreed on an open relationship many years ago and barely interact anymore. Not a gloomy business by any means: she gets to meet new people and he can enjoy his work and hobbies in peace and without guilt.

Yandere! CEO who doesn't think much of it when his wife brings home a young student she befriended at a convention. He nods dismissively, returning to his papers and phone calls. At dinner, he just hums in acknowledgement and fiddles with the cutlery while the woman talks about you excitedly. "You know, (Y/N) reminds me a little of you." Nonsense.

Yandere! CEO with whom you scarcely interact: he's a borderline workaholic, and your relationship is cordial at best. That is until you're asked by the wife to retrieve some important documents from their ridiculously luxurious apartment. You quietly tiptoe past the office, but can't help glancing at the imposing library, stacked with books. The man's sudden arrival startles and you begin to mumble apologies, but he seems more interested in your curiosity than anything else.

Yandere! CEO who can't believe you both like the same authors. He discreetly removes the folder from your hands, tasking one of the assistants to deliver it to his wife instead. There are more important matters at hand. Have you had your coffee yet? Oh, you must stay longer. What's the hurry?

Yandere! CEO who has become awfully perceptive whenever your name is mentioned in conversations, innocently probing for more details. Naturally, he wouldn't mind meeting you again, but it's not...a need, per se. He was just pleasantly surprised to find someone he could so easily engage in conversation with. Hell, you're old enough to be his daughter. Don't be ridiculous, he'll scold himself sternly whenever his mind wanders too far.

Yandere! CEO who begins to feel like each encounter is a flirty tease. Is it just wishful thinking, or are you becoming cheekier by day? The way you bat your eyelashes, the way you cast your eyes down whenever he looks at you. The next time you're alone in the apartment, he's too far gone in his delusions to act rationally. How unusual for him to act so nonchalant. Unbuttoning your shirt with haste, trailing your neck with hot kisses, lifting your leg and pressing you against the wall. He never considered himself the type to fuck a much younger woman out of raw lust.

Yandere! CEO who loves taking you on dates despite his busy schedule. Art museums, theatres, the Opera. He is eager to introduce you to his interests and will answer any question or curiosity you have. Who would've thought everything is better in two? Of course, there could be other factors involved. Like the added bonus of watching you squirm in your seat and biting your lips to be quiet while he fingers you at the peak of Act 3. Then smirking to himself when everyone stands up for applause, and you have to rearrange your dress to hide the wet mess underneath.

Yandere! CEO who worries about you when he's on work trips, so he tasks his right-hand man to look after you and keep you company. If you ever get lonely, you can rely on his assistant to take care of all your needs. Now, he's not one to share, despite his marital arrangement. As bizarre as it sounds, he just sees the employee as a mere toy, an idle occupation who can temporarily entertain you in his absence. What he does perceive as a threat is swiftly taken care of. It's enough for you to mention another student flirted with you, and you'll never see that person again. You have to understand that he doesn't play around with his assets. One he has something, he holds onto it with ironclad strength. And he's never been more desperate to keep something in his possession.

Yandere! CEO who makes sure to remind you why dating him is your best (and only) choice. You would've wasted your time with boys your age. He can offer you the world and more, all you need to do is ask for it.

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Spending the night at Simon's for the first time and him waking up to you in nothing but his oversized t shirt

Request from here

***

Eyes blinking as light filtered through his closed lids, Simon began to stir as the first bit of the days brightness filled the small bedroom of his tiny apartment. Slowly those thick, long limbs of his stretched their compressed muscles back to life as the blood flowed through them.

Turning over, he was surprised that there wasn't another body laying next to him under the covers; your bright eyes and warm smile were what he had planned to gaze upon, but there was no one. That put him a little on edge, this being the first time you'd stayed over at his shitty little apartment, but he tried to keep calm until he was fully awake.

Simon moved up onto his elbow as he lay on his side, his large hand rubbing the rest of the sleep that lingered from out of his eyes. He looked about, trying to find any signs of you: your discarded clothes from the night before lay in a pile on the floor right next to your shoes, your earrings still sat on the bedside table, and as he checked the mattress with his hand he found that it was still warm. It was obvious you were still around, he just had to go and find you.

A full yawn passed his lips before he heard the sound of clinks and taps, bangs and rustling coming from towards the kitchen area. So that's where you'd sulked off to, making breakfast no doubt.

God you were too fucking much, he wasn't used to all this sweetness, but he wouldn't change it for anything.

Carefully and quietly he moved out of the bed, scratching at the sparse covering of hair on his bare chest before he stood and straightened his sweatpants around his hips. He was hoping he could surprise you by showing up to catch you in the act.

With easy steps, Simon walked out of the bedroom towards the kitchen and what he saw standing there amidst pots and pans, a stack of toast and a pile of bacon to your right, it took his goddamn breath away.

The expectation was to find you naked, since the only clothes you had were still on his bedroom floor, but that wasn't what he found at all. Your hair had been pulled up, a few stray hairs poking out around your hairline that hadn't been secured and it looked like the only thing you had on was one of his old baggy t shirts.

As you moved, Simon could just see a peak of the underside of your ass pop through the bottom of the shirt, playing peakaboo with him the longer he looked. The lines of your legs, looked even longer as the shirt sat just below your hips. Those juicy limbs looked good enough to eat, bare and glaring back at him.

Fuck, you had never been more beautiful to him; it nearly made his goddamn heart stop beating. Being a big man had its perks and this was one of the best ones he found, that you were able to wear his clothes.

In that moment as he watched you happily go about your work, looking like a comfy dream, images of you doing this full time flooded Simon's mind and his stomach flipped excitedly at the thought. If there was anyone that could make that rough and brazen military man soft, it was you.

And maybe it was about time he let someone do it...

There was a sudden warmness against your back as two bulky arms wrapped themselves around your from behind, making you jump a little at the surprise. " 'mornin, luv," Simon's husky voice hit your ears before his kiss touched your cheek. "See you've made yourself at home."

You leaned into him, enjoying the warmth he still had from being wrapped up tight in the covers moments before. "I just...I wanted to do something nice for you, make us breakfast," you said, giving the eggs in the pan currently in your grasp a flip.

"Pretty sure you do more than enough for a bastard like me," he chuckled as one of those thick mitts moved down and cupped lightly over your sex. "This is all I need to stay well fuckin' fed."

Immediately the heat rose in your cheeks, flushing your face bright red.

"But I meant my shirt," he continued, secretly smiling from ear to ear at how quickly he had you blushing. Certain, heavy movements from his hands flitted across your torso as he rubbed over the lines of your curves through the familiar fabric of his clothing.

"Oh, sorry," you quickly apologized, thinking you had possibly overstepped, "I hope you don't mind, I just needed something and it was just there in the top drawer and..."

Another kiss on your cheek shut you right up. "Look fuckin' good like this, luv," he purred in your ear, his low, gravely morning voice making you shiver.

"Really?" you asked, glad that he wasn't mad you'd commendeered his clothes; in reality you knew it would be nothing, but this being the first time you'd done this, you still had some giddy nervousness about everything.

"Ya look like a fuckin' picture to me," he reiterated, those full lips moving down to your next now as he leaned more against you. "I thought I looked good in this thing, but it ain't nothin' compared to a fuckin' vixen like you."

You giggled playfully at all the sweet praise. Nearly missing the eggs being done, you turned off the stove and set the aside until you both were ready to eat. "Please, I look like hell."

"Bullshit," he said as he turned you around, picked up you, and placed your butt on top of the nearest countertop. He slid in between your open legs, letting his hands run down your side from where he had lifted you, sliding tenderly over the shirt. He was right, you were naked save for the shirt and that did something to his still sleepy brain.

Greedily he tilted his head and leaned up into you, embracing your mouth fully with all of his and making your lips dance together. Feverish and sloppy Simon connected with your lips again and again, making your still sleepy brain flatline.

If you could wake up every day like this it would be a fucking living dream.

His kisses would not let up as he pulled you in closer, his hands running over the curves of your back as he stole your lips with a lazy intensity.

"Breakfast is gonna get cold," you groaned with eyes closed, mouthing the words against his parted lips.

His hips bucked into your own. "Nah, my breakfast feels mighty fuckin' warm to me, luv," he said as he kept right at it.

[devilevlls]

Lucifer’s lewd habits౨ৎ

Nobody asked for this one, but I can’t stop my mind from wondering about Lucifer’s kinks and preferences, so… I’m posting some of it.

(. ❛ ᴗ ❛.) Probably going to make part.2 if I remember more things.

Everything here is consensual. I’m talking about a scenario where both of you are aware of each other’s boundaries.

📌 TW: Shameless smut, explicit descriptions of lustful acts, intercourse. 

Tried to keep it gender-neutral.

๋࣭⭑Lucifer is the shameless type of guy, the one that will grip into your hair or neck while you are making out and slowly push you down, asking for a blowjob without words. He won’t stop pushing until you finally reach the goal.

He likes it slow, going deep, and will groan when you suddenly circle your tongue over his tip, tasting the saltiness of his pre-cum.

๋࣭⭑I think he is someone who doesn’t like PDA while others are looking, but while in public, without catching any attention, he will twist your nipples over your shirt just to see them hardening. He will chuckle and mock you, whispering into your ear on how easy you are.

๋࣭⭑He will make you beg for him to take you, I’m not saying just playfully, but almost making it annoying/painful. Lucifer is a sadist, so, for him, seeing you actually getting mad for wanting to have sex was pure entertainment.

๋࣭⭑Loves shower sex, Despite his busy schedule, whenever he finds a free moment, he'll send you messages inviting you to shower together.

๋࣭⭑Accidentally spread his wings when too excited or too close to an intense orgasm. He won’t be embarrassed tho, but it can startle you a little o_o

๋࣭⭑Will give you lustful stares when you are talking in public, and will smirk when noticing the growing blush on your cheeks.

๋࣭⭑Purposefully rubs himself against you while “helping” you reach for something and lets you feel his intimacy throbbing with excitement. (I headcanon that the house of lamentation has big furniture, since they are slightly taller than average humans)

๋࣭⭑Loves when you worship his body, his red eyes gleaming with amusement as he observes your lips showering him with kisses.

๋࣭⭑Probably will ask you to kneel down and brushes his shoes against your intimacy, enjoying every whimper, every gasp you let escape from your lips.

๋࣭⭑While being the top, Lucifer will grab your hips with force and slam himself into you repeatedly, just to painfully slow down, making him slide in and out. Will chuckle seeing your needy reactions.

๋࣭⭑If he is the bottom, he will make sure to edge you, circling his hips on your lap slowly, making it go deep and then stop, feeling how your body tense with the feeling of almost reaching the peak and calming down again, never reaching the goal.

Plus for MC's habits with him౨ৎ

๋࣭⭑MC boldly grasps his horns as they engage in heated make out sections, unapologetically reveling in the sensation of pushing him to his limits. They adore the subtle frown that crosses his face as he submits to their dominance, though it's clear he thoroughly enjoys it.

๋࣭⭑Casually grabbing Lucifer’s ass as he walks by or while he is trying to give a serious speech. They would take care not to embarrass him in front of anyone tho, just silly moments where they know this would be possible, and they will only receive a threatening glare from the avatar of pride.

๋࣭⭑Nibbling on his ears. For me, Lucifer is a touch starved old man that gets shivers from almost anything, so nibbling on his ears would make him yelp softly, and he will blush if someone is around and hears it.

๋࣭⭑Will steal pecks from him while he is trying to scold them, making his cold heart melt little by little and as they notice him getting excited, they will rub him over his clothes, making the demon whimper softly.

IDK if there are grammar errors, wasn't really trying hard for this one, just wanted to share my thoughts.

Masterlistɞ 📌

[sweetadonisbutbetter]

Hellooo. Could I have scenarios of soft Adam? Anything is fine, just possible moments where he’s being soft for reader? Maybe it’s late at night or something? Or maybe it’s early in the morning and he doesn’t wanna get up? Just some prompts just so I’m not being too vague

Thank you!

I DID NOT FORGET MY ADAM PEOPLE- getting other fandom works in there teehee these are so cute tysm for ur request!! apologies if its short 💞💞 also tan/brown adam ftw!!!!! 💯💯💯

Fade into you | Adam x GN! Reader

Relationship: Romantic Warnings: None!

It was a common thing to have lazy mornings with your husband. Especially if he had to do something later in the day, he would spend most of his morning cuddling up next to you while you attempt to push him off. Not that it ever worked, and he always showed up late to his events anyway. 

“What’s five more minutes? Not like they will miss me.”

“Baby, they are hosting your party.”

“Ahh who needs that when I have you?” Was what he always said before sinking further into your chest. 

It seemed that today was no different. You awoke to a weight on your chest and hands under your shirt. Already knowing who it is, you place a hand on your husband's hair and comb through it with your fingers. He hums, giving your sides a squeeze for a moment. You tug on it slightly, making him groan and you laugh a little. 

“Is there anything on the agenda today?” You ask him, just as you do every morning. He says nothing, just humming as his hands move under you to your back. You giggle at the feeling of his fingers brushing against your soft spots, hoping Adam doesn’t take advantage of his weight on you. To your relief, he doesn’t, just fully holding you. He shifts a bit, getting comfortable between your legs before once again resting fully on you. You tug at his hair once again, a way of asking him to answer.

“No.” He gruffs, putting his face further into your neck.

“No? Are you sure? If I call Lute, she would tell me the same thing?” He smacks his teeth and bites back.

“There is no need to call danger tits. There is nothing happening today.” You pull your hands up in mock defeat.

“Sorry. You normally lie about these things.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Honey, you literally missed a meeting with Sera and Emily once because you would rather be in bed than do anything else.” You coo, combing his hair again. You feel him take a deep breath as he removes his head from your neck, now looking at you. 

“Try being dead for all of humanity.” You roll your eyes and boop at his nose. 

“While I may not have been dead for as long as you and Eve have old man, I am still pretty old compared to the newer saints.”

“Winners.” 

“No. That is a dumb name. I will never be called or call the others winners.” You argue. 

“No? Are you sure?”

“Positive.” You affirm, before feeling Adam attack your sides, tickling you. You shriek in shock before devolving into laughter. You try to escape, however it proves futile as Adam is on top of you. 

“What are we called?” He asked, still tickling you. Through your peals of laughter, you shout out,

“SAINTS!” Adam mimics an incorrect buzzer sound as he starts to now get at your tickle spots faster. With the feeling of tears gathering in your eyes, your cheeks and tummy hurting, you can’t help but give in to his stupid demands. “F-Fine! We are c-called winners- STOP AH-”

He stops at your hasty white flag, a smug smirk on his face. Catching your breath, you look at your husband. His brown hair was a mess, just as it always was. His tan skin looked wonderful in the heaven light that peaked through your window. It seemed that he was also admiring you, as his smirk began to soften into a small smile, a look of utter fondness and love in his eyes. You wonder if you had a similar look on your face. Rather than ponder it any longer, you pull Adam down by his shirt for a kiss. He lets out a gasp at the suddenness of your grab before sinking into the kiss. Your hands fly to his face as his hands go down to your sides, lightly passing the tickle spots he has abused previously. You giggle a little into the kiss, before pushing his face away.

“I seriously hope you had nothing important today. You don’t have a choice now but to stay with me.”

“Babe, I would stay with you for eternity.” He says, his voice soft, the voice he reserved for you and you alone. You smile and pull him into another kiss.

loll i was going to joke that this was the one year Adam forgot the extermination.

[inkdrinkerworld]

thinking about meeting the batfam for the first time as dick's gf...

Your palms are sweaty as you get ready, something simple Dick had said. ‘It’s just dinner, gorgeous.’

But you know of Bruce Wayne and simple doesn’t seem like what he does.

Still, you go with something classy and casual- a dress. A yellow spring dress that’s all the way to the floor and patterned with little green and blue flowers.

Dick comes in just as you finish your makeup and whistles. “Goddamn,” immediately his hands fall to your hips, pulling you into him the second you set your lip liners down. “You’re a smoke show.”

You giggle and will heat not to flush into your cheeks. “Dick,” he shakes his head. Kissing you quickly and then pulling away.

“It’s going to be great, don’t stress it. Everyone’s gonna love you.” He seems to think his words over as he looks you up and down again. “Actually, Damien might love you a little too much.”

“Dick, he’s a kid.” Damien is the youngest of the Wayne’s; only around thirteen.

When you get to Wayne Manor, you’re glad you’ve worn a dress, Jason is dressed up in soft pants and a polo, Bruce is wearing a black shirt and black dress pants, Dick is matching you a little- blue shirt and soft pants and Damien looks at least a little uncomfortable in the smart clothes he’s in.

“Dick, I really did think you were lying about having a girlfriend.” Jason says and he scowls good naturedly.

“Well, she’s real. Baby this is Jason,” he points to each of them. “Damien and the big guy’s Bruce. Guys, this is Y/N.”

“Hi, nice to meet you,” you say shyly and they all say the same. Damien who scowls and talks in mostly grumbles through the dinner seems to open up to you and takes pride in saying something flirty just to piss off Dick.

“So what do you do?” Bruce asks and you smile, setting your cutlery down to take a sip of your drink.

“I teach pre-school for now.” You answer honestly and Bruce’s eyebrows shoot up.

“For now?” You nod politely.

“I’m not sure if I want to venture into elementary or middle school or remain with the younger groups. They’re fun, but I also think teaching a group a couple years older would be fun as well.”

Bruce nods, “Maybe you can get a day in Damien’s school to see what it would be like.”

Dick smiles at the offer, knowing the old man doesn’t do that with just anyone.

“So I’d get to see you all day?” Damien asks with a smile and you take a peak at Dick to see him scowling.

“You’re pushing you luck Al Ghul.” Dick says and you roll your eyes.

“Ignore him, he’s all talk no bite.” You whisper to Damien who seems pleased with the fact that you are willing to mess with Dick.

“Want to take a walk around?” Dick asks after the plates are taken away and you nod, taking his hand as he helps you out of the chair and leads you down a hallway.

“They’re nice.” You whisper and Dick grins.

“Yeah? Bruce likes you a lot.” He says honestly and just to see if it’s a real or pretend annoyance you say,

“So does Damien.” Dick rolls his eyes.

“I told you he’d love you too much,” he sighs as you reach a landing. “But he is a kid and he likes being a little shit with me more than the others.”

“Is this your old room, Grayson?” You ask as he pushes open a door and you’re met with a bed, what looks like gymnast equipment and bare cupboards.

“Mhm,” his eyebrows dance and you scoff, slapping his chest making him laugh. “What? I just thought you’d like to see the room that gave me all these bulging muscles.”

You laugh as he flexes but Dick pulls you further into the room. “No but I thought you’d like a little quiet moment before Alfred brings out dessert.”

You raise an eyebrow. Dick smiles bashfully, “I haven’t kissed you since we left the house,” you smile and lean up to kiss his lips. Dick doesn’t let it just be a peck, he keeps you in place with a hand behind your neck and deepens it.

“Better?” You ask him and he nods, kissing your cheeks.

“I don’t like sharing you with them.” He says and you laugh loudly, sitting on his old, springy bed.

“Dick Grayson, I never thought you’d be jealous of your brothers.” He comes closer to you, moving over you till you’re laying on your back, your hair fanned out in the sheets as he hovers over you.

“Jealous? No, those idiots don’t scare me,” One of his hands finds the hem of your dress, stroking the skin of your thigh. “You know I just like you obsessed with me, I like when your eyes are on me only.”

“You’re a menace,” you breathe out and Dick laughs when you move his hand and straighten your dress. “An absolute menace,” you stand and take his outstretched hand. “Take me to see the garden?”

“Whatever you want, my gorgeous girl.”

[theonlyhonoredone]

My Man

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x Reader, Modern AU

Warnings: none

Summary: a sneak peak into your relationship with Ryomen

Masterlist

You’d met Ryomen Sukuna at a house party your freshman year of college. A hundred thousand people warned you to stay away but you never listened to a single one. It didn’t matter what they said because he was enchanting. Sure he was cruel and crass, about as far from prince charming as one could get, but that didn’t matter to you. Always living on the basis of forming your own opinions and giving second chances you overlooked every red flag and let him slot himself into your life without any fight. Slowly but surely he let you in too, letting his tough exterior melt away in favor of a much softer man. 

He kept that part of him hidden away from everyone else, it made you feel special. You were the only one that got to see his real smile, hear his real laugh, to fall asleep next to him. One day he promised to clean himself up, just a bit, if you’d be his. He’d stop seeing his other girls, he’d commit to just you. That promise had sent your heart soaring. It didn’t matter when everyone pointed out he was doing the bare minimum, you knew for him it was much more than that. You didn’t need anyone else to understand your relationship anyway, that was between you and Ryomen.

“I love you,” his chapped lips would mutter into your burning skin late at night, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

He chanted it like a prayer while you called out his name. Teary eyes burning as you squinted at the ceiling of his old Torino Cobra. So close to touching heaven you’d swear you could hear the angels singing. He’d take you there a hundred thousand times if you asked. He’d let you hang on that crux for the longest minute of your life before he’d bring you crashing back down to earth. It burned like some divine flame, you screamed his name as he drowned himself in you. Once you were back with him he’d ask if you were satisfied, his smile smug and his voice low. 

Under the cover of darkness you’d redress and crawl onto the roof of the car. He’d lay out a blanket for you to lay on and wrap you in his jacket when you began to shiver. A star map you’d had since your childhood was laid out in front of you both. Ryomen would lay his head in your lap while you pointed out different constellations. He’d stare up at the sky, focused much more on the sound of your voice than anything else. Truthfully he was jealous of the stars for holding your attention over him. If he had it his way he’d pluck them all out of the sky and hide them so you’d never look at anything but him with that pretty twinkle in your eye. 

“Stop talking about the stars and lay with me,” he’d demand once the jealousy became too overwhelming.

You’d giggle and fold up the map before laying beside him, your head on his chest and an arm thrown over his middle. He’d wrap you up tight in his arms and press his lips to the crown of your head. Eventually your hands would grow cold and you’d slip them under his shirt. He’d hiss as you warmed yourself on his skin, he always accused you of being cold blooded but never dared push you away. No, he always wanted you as close as possible, he had from the moment your eyes met. He swore he’d keep you with him until the end of time and he had no intention of breaking that promise ever.

[biteofcherry]

Am I curled in bed, suffering the curse of period, daydreaming about Snowpiercer AU?

Restoring balance

Curtis Everett x female reader

Curtis Everett Masterlist

Main Masterlist

warnings: dystopian world; harsh conditions; mostly consensual (sliiightly dub-con due to apocalyptic circumstances forcing you to accept certain deals); size kink; breeding kink (obviously, since it's me);

You're one of the people who survived out in the world, not on the train and you've been living in a cottage that's now mostly rickety, but you have a cellar where you store many preserves and you have a small garden with a greenhouse where you grow plants which you then barter with other survivors;

Then one day a small group of train survivors come raiding your place and the idiots attempt to steal from you, ripping even the unripe tomatoes from the bushes, so you attack one of them with a fork and end up being dragged away to their compound, where they drop you onto your knees in front of the biggest, most dangerous looking man you've ever seen;

Curtis frowns and asks what's that all about. His men complain that you attacked them, to which you sneer that you are always open to barter your produce, but you won't let anyone steal from you, or ruin your plants.

Curtis takes the crate they've stolen and walks you back to your cottage, where he surveys the place and closely surveys you, too;

he asks what you'd like to barter that crate for and you point at your old stove and ask if he has parts that could fix it. He agrees and offers a bonus-

closes the distance between you two, trapping you against the old kitchen table

Curtis asks how long has its been since you felt pleasure and you boldly tilt your chin up and blurt out that you give yourself plenty of orgasms and are satisfied with that.

He takes your small hand in his large palm, comparing your sizes, and makes a comment how better it could feel, if your tight pussy got to stretch around something bigger than your nimble fingers

then cups your face and asks when was the last time you've been kissed

a fleeting thought about the first kind of making out with your then boyfriend enters your mind, but it instantly dissolves when Curtis claims your mouth.

You don't remember any kiss to ever feel like this, or any boy to hold you in place with such stoic confidence. It gets you weak in the knees, your breath quickening as Curtis growls into the kiss, turning it more insistent

he lifts you onto the table and tugs down your pants; fingers dipping between your thighs as his mouth descends down your neck

Curtis was right about the size of his fingers feeling so much better than yours, but it's also been so long that the pleasure rides the edge of discomfort and pain;

he's relentless, pumping into you as he forces you flat on your back and rips your shirt. He drives you to the edge, curling his fingers and circling your clit with his thumb, his mouth sucking on your pebbled nipples, teeth grazing sensitive peaks

then he's yanking his own pants open, releasing his painfully hard cock with a groan

When he thrusts into you, your scream echoes through the small cottage. Not even his fingers could've prepared you for that monster of a cock.

He fucks you roughly, mouthing on your breasts, covering them in saliva. His fingers grip all over, mapping out your body through the layers of fabric

when you come - back arched, fingers clenching on the lapels of Curtis' thick wool coat - it feels like true little death as the blinding pleasure ripples with a sting of pain in your unused pussy

Curtis stays buried inside you, groaning in delight as your walls flutter around his cock. But when your aftershocks subside, he's pulling you off the table and pushing you down to your knees

he finishes in your mouth, grabbing the back of your head and keeping you still as he empties down your throat.

He helps you up a moment later, steadying you as you lightly sway. He announces that from now on you will barter only with him.

The next day he comes with parts for the stove, which he fixes himself. You deem it worthy of the whole crate of produce, but warn Curtis that you need time for new vegetables and fruit to grow.

He comes back as agreed, bringing you a full roll of thick, warm fabric and a sewing kit. Since he ruined some of your clothes and the rest of your wardrobe needs care, too, you agree to exchange another portion of your produce, including two jars of preserves

it's also your sneaky way to assure yourself business for the period when fresh vegetables aren't available.

You give Curtis your hand to shake on your new transaction. He smirks, but takes it. Then swiftly turns you around and bends you over the sink.

This time he goes down on his knees, spreading your asscheeks and licking your pussy in reverence. He's damn skilled at making you drip, but the wetter you get, the hungrier for you he becomes

when you squeak "Enough" after the second time he makes you cum, Curtis slaps your ass and sucks on your clit so hard you break into tears;

he finishes all over your back and ass, rutting his cock between your sticky thighs first.

The next time he brings a new sheet of glass for the cracked one in your greenhouse, as well a package of fresh venison. It's been at least two years since you ate meat, so you don't argue much with Curtis when he asks for three jars of your preserves along with a basket of potatoes

it also seems fair to let him fuck your face, until you're a sobbing mess and he spills all over your face.

Each time Curtis visits, you try to compose yourself as blood rushes south to ignite fire in your core. You tell yourself that seeing him is exciting, because it means survival - ensuring you have provisions

But also each time he leaves, you spend the next weeks replaying in your head the things he's done to you as you drive yourself to orgasms.

When Curtis comes to you three months into your agreement, there's a certain smugness to his tone and his haunted, blue eyes shine a happy kind of spark

there's a reason for his satisfaction and it leaves you gasping in awe as he presents you with two living chickens. No, a chicken and a rooster.

"For this-" Curtis starts, diverting your attention back to him

"Ten jars!" You blurt instantly, ready to agree to a full crate of vegetables, as well. Because the chickens would be greatly profitable for you.

Curtis chuckles, shaking his head. He slips off his coat and lays it over the small cage in which he brought the birds in. He moves around the table, standing between you and the cage.

He takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face up

"For this," his tone drops to a low, dark caress, "you'll let me finish in your pussy."

Your intake of breath is sharp, your pupils widen.

There are many arguments for rejecting Curtis' demand, but they chaotically bump somewhere in the back of your head, while your tongue lies speechless.

"With a chick and a rooster, you'll be able to have eggs to barter, but also eggs to hatch." He points out. "In time you'll get more eggs and more meat. Why shouldn't I demand more from you for that?"

"Because I could-" you lick your lips nervously as the images of Curtis filling you with his seed take over your conflicted mind.

"Oh, I know." Curtis confirms, his undertone betraying a strong desire for that exact outcome.

There were more unfinished counter arguments on your tongue, but somehow they are discarded as you end up in your small bedroom, pinned down to the bed by Curtis' massive form.

You always seemed exceptionally big, which you assumed was also the effect of many layers of clothing, but fully naked he still looks intimidatingly broad. It's a rarity when the remnants of human population were mostly malnourished.

He crowds you, overpowers you, but there's a newfound thrill to be under him.

Curtis takes you in deep, slow strokes, stretching this pleasure into a maddening experience that has you gushing around him.

He growls into your ear how good you feel, how well you take him and how you will take his seed.

As he speeds up, his own voice tattering as his breath quickens too, Curtis groans a mysterious to you confession that he took lives, but now he will give life.

Cumming inside you once doesn't sate him. He flips you onto your stomach and takes you prone bone, hard and primal. Keeps filling you full until the dawn, when he falls asleep with you tucked to his side.

From now on he's always taking you bare. Frequently, not only when he comes for food.

By the time your belly rounds, the forest between the compound and your cottage is cut down. New settlement buildings rise and your little place becomes a part of Curtis' growing kingdom.

You are branded his, as well.

[greycaelum]

Hi Grey! How was ur week? Question for Yakuza Satoru: he got tattoos, but what kind and where? This series fits Gojo-Zenin rivalry so well. Can totally see Naoya being crazy jealous of Satoru, to the point of dying…

So late reply, forgive this tardy woman! Just finished 2 sems in uni and now I still have to do summer but it's manageable so here I am again Quite rusty if I must say, writer's block at its finest...

Thank you for your interest in Coasts and Altitudes, fingers crossed on the next update! With lots of hugs from Grey~

[Pic link] CTTO

"Did it hurt...?" Your eyes flickered as you stared at the elaborate irezumi painting on his broad back, it covered a few old scars, scabs of rose pink peaking a bit on the spaces between the vivid inks, obscuring but not totally hiding the gashes from your sight.

"Mnnn?" Your husband looked back as he searched for a shirt in the closet. he's only wearing cotton shorts and a towel over his shoulder, walking topless around your home since the staff were out for the weekend except for some of his subordinates guarding the perimeter of the house. You've been married for already a month, but still, it's hard to remain focused every time he goes around naked.

"The irezumi... did it hurt?" You bit the insides of your mouth when he faced you with his inked pecs and hard 8-packs distracting your sight. He remained unbeknownst or probably playing clueless as he walked towards you and asked you to dry his hair.

"Not really, I got used to the pain." He shrugged as you kneeled on the bedside behind him and ruffled his hair with the towel. For a man depicted as rough and the violent shady business he deals with daily, Satoru has a penchant of asking you to do domestic and mundane stuff for him.

Your hands stopped drying his hair as you slowly traced the ink much to his amusement.

"What's wrong, princess?" He purrs.

You couldn't answer as you stared at the dragon holding the close lotus form. This oriental dragon represents strength combined with wisdom and usually is benevolent, a protector against those who might usurp control... yet somehow, countless flowers scattered around the dragon, you couldn't quite understand it... not to mention Satoru's chest is still not inked.

"What does your irezumi mean? I can't understand it..." You've seen many irezumi from your father's men, all of them are unique but you've never seen anything compare to Satoru's.

Satoru looked back at you, mirth swirling in his bright eyes, but seeing you can't meet his gaze with how fixated you are in his back he face front to let you stare at his irezumi for now. He opened his mouth, thinking of how to start.

"I wanted to have a Karashishi beast instead of the Ryu, but the person I wanted to protect left... and I need to guard my family's so I chose the dragon..."

You couldn't speak... you already know what he means.

"This peony..." You looked at the lonesome peony on his top left shoulder. "It suits you, wealth and prosperity with your devil-may-care attitude." You swallowed the awkward reply on the tip of your tongue and tried to hide your hesitant tone.

"I couldn't think of anything more to remember you so I chose the Sakura, thinking I needed to remind myself I was just a fleeting moment of your childhood. I would just stay here, protecting my family or else I would've come running after you like a lap dog... I would've begged you to spare attention to me, I don't have a good sense of self control when it's about you."

A fleeting moment of childhood, huh? Your fingers traced the cherry blossoms littered over the dragon. And whose fault was it for pushing you away years ago saying he can only see you as a younger sister? You scoffed and curled your nails on the biggest cherry blossom making him groan.

Satoru turns around and pushes you down the bed, the mattress cushioning you as he plants his arms on the sides of your head. Climbing on top of you as he pushes away the stray hair framing your eyes.

"I've always known even 15 years ago you would cover me with scars... Now that you're finally tied to me I can get that karashishi and perhaps some momiji to add it..."

"Where are you going to put it?"

He chuckled and raised a brow as he took your hand and placed it on his chest.

"On where you'll always be."

Footnotes:

Karashishi "Lion Dog": The local Shinto religion of Japan, which pre-dates Buddhism, also has a lion protector, with a red head, who drives away evil spirits and brings health and wealth. No matter the origin though, the Fu Lion is fundamentally protective, strong, and courageous.

Ryu "Dragon": Oriental dragons are equally at home in the air or in the water. Usually embodying wisdom, strength and manipulating the forces of the universe for the benefit of people. Dragon can also clutch in one of his claws an object that is variously shown as a ball, a pearl, or a jewel, also known as “the closed-lotus form” essentially the essence of the universe, to control the winds, rains, fire and even the planets. This item is essentially seen in various Buddhist designs including temples and grave markers. It represents the spiritual essence of the universe, by which the dragon controls and protects it from those who might usurp those powers.

Sakura "Cherry Blossom": For Japanese imagery, the beautiful period of its flowering and then the all too soon fading and subsequent scattering of petals on the wind, symbolize life itself.  The fragility of the cherry blossom is the fragility of human existence.  they represent mortality, love, magnificent beauty, and sudden death.  It is regarded by all as a good omen.

Botan "Peony":  It is regarded as a symbol of wealth, good fortune, and prosperity.  In addition, though,  it also suggests a sort of gambling, daring, and even a masculine devil-may-care attitude, quite unlike its character in the west.

Momiji "Maple Leaves": In Japan, it’s also the symbol of lovers. A single leaf or a multitude of leaves are also potent symbols of regeneration and resurrection as they cycle through the seasons.

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

Check out the Masterlist for more

All rights and credits of the Jujutsu Kaisen character(s) mentioned images(s) and songs(s) used, belongs to their respective owner(s)

General/Kaleidoscope Series Taglist: @ice-icebaby @aeanya @gummy-dummy @tender-rosiey @lexiene @nevermoresworld @loml-riri @pelicanpizza @emichou-chan

[criminalmindswhore]

Playlists Tell All

Tara finds your playlist titled Prentiss and looks through it while you drive. She and JJ tease you about it until Emily finally finds out.

BOTH HANDS ON THE PHONE AT ALL TIMES 🤨 Also, this is long bare with me, also not proofread, oops.

TW: SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT

It was no secret you were gay. It was apparent from the day you walked into the BAU wearing docs and a septum ring. Tara was the first to notice, lesbians find each other. You were never closeted to them but never shouted it in the bullpen either. If they asked, you told.

"Hey, Y/n can I ask you something?" Emily asked as you two went down the elevator. "Sure, what's up?" You smiled at her. "Are you gay?" She looked puzzled, "Miss BAU Unit Chief was the last to notice?" You chuckled and she looked offended, her mouth falling open. You were almost too distracted by your thoughts, 'I wonder if that's the face she makes when she-', to notice the elevator stop. "So like only women or?" She stepped out of the elevator, you following suit. You cringed at thinking of being with a man, "Only women." She chuckled, "I knew it." She stopped walking signaling you were parting ways for the night. The cold Virginia air made a chill run down your spine, or maybe you noticed the few shirt buttons undone on the way to the parking lot. "I'll see you tomorrow Y/n." She smiled at you and grabbed your bicep for a moment. The touch lingered in your brain, your skin on fire, "See you tomorrow Unit Chief of the gayest FBI unit." She laughed loudly at your comment as she walked away, her grey hair swaying with which step.

Your talks with Emily to your cars became a nightly thing, on purpose from your end but she didn't need to know that.

After a case in Northern VA, Tara, JJ and you were in an SUV driving back to Quantico. Tara deemed you the driver as you were a 'young sprite who would stay awake longer'. Your phone became the AUX phone and Tara sat up front scrolling through your music creating the perfect queue. Her eyes widened as she came across a playlist titled, 'long talks with Prentiss'. She sat straight up and looked at you. You turned your head to glance at her, then back at the road, "What?" She leaned back against the seat, "Nothing." JJ's interest was now peaked, "Tara, you gotta tell us now." Tara scrolled through the songs:

She - Dodie

girls - girl in red

1950 - King Princess

She's My Religion - Pale Waves

I Wanna Be Yours - Arctic Monkeys

Call Out My Name - The Weekend

and on and on and on...

Tara came up with a genius plan, queuing up all the songs. The second girls came on, it clicked. "Tara, I can explain." She just laughed, "Explain that you have a huge crush on someone almost 30 years older than you?" JJ put down her Cheetos, "Wait? Emily?" Your grip on the wheel tightened and your cheeks turned bright red. "Can you two just not?" Tara chuckled, "Oh no miss thing, you have to spill now." JJ laughed from the backseat.

You weighed your options, either tell them and they tease you about it, or you don't and they tease you even worse until you spill, "Fine," the two women high-fived, "but it doesn't leave this car. Clear?" JJ saluted at you and Tara nodded. "She's just so hot dude. How could I not find her attractive and she does that stupid thing when she's focused where she licks her lip and then bites it." You were gushing like a high school girl at this point. "And don't get me started on her hands." JJ cringed slightly. "Okay, but she's 1, your boss, and 2, old enough to be your mom." You sighed and grimaced, "Why do you think it lives in my head? I have a playlist and that's it. She will never know and no one else will." Tara shook her head, "Honey she probably already knows. Emily is one of the best profilers in the world, not only that she's got those super-secret spy skills. Has she been acting differently towards you?" You shook your head, "No, I mean we've been talking one-on-one a lot more but that's just because we usually leave at the same time." Tara hummed and JJ laughed loudly, "What JJ?" You were still horrified at the current situation and her finding it humorous was not helping. "She did mention how she knows someone in her inner circle is attracted to her but didn't wanna bring it up." She leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms. "JJ! You can't just tell me that!" Tara was losing it, doubled over in laughter. "You both suck."

It didn't get brought up again during the case. You thought it had blown over until you were all standing in the bullpen after the case chatting while people packed up bags and files. "Hey guys, what are laughing about?" Prentiss asked as she joined the group, bag in hand. "Reid is so oblivious to how much his neighbor wants to get in his pants," Luke explained while still laughing. Emily licked her bottom lip before pulling it between her teeth, Taras's head shot around to look at you wiggling her eyebrows. You scoffed and smacked her arm. "What's going on there?" Emily asked while smiling at you two, "Oh god are two?" Tara laughed and you nearly threw up in your mouth. The whole team was now looking at you and Tara with their mouths open, "God no! Tara and I are not sleeping together!" The team erupted into laughter except for you and Emily, staring into each other's eyes. She smiled sweetly at you and your face got hot. "I am going home, you guys enjoy bullying Reid." You grabbed your bag and stood up off your desk, "Wait, I'll walk with you, let me grab my cup from the kitchen." Emily took off swiftly to retrieve her mug and JJ gave you the 'I know something they don't' look. You glared at her and went to wait for Emily by the elevators. She approached you and pressed the down button, "Ready?" You nodded and stepped into the elevator.

The following week was full of being teased by JJ & Tara and Emily knowing something was up. Emily entirely said, "If someone made a playlist based on me I would be honored," while working a case. Which earned a stare from JJ and a muffled laugh from Tara.

One night you and Emily were heading down together like you usually did, "Hey, have you been seeing someone? Tara and JJ seem to know something about you no one else does." As you unlocked your car you froze. "Um, no, there's just a running inside joke going." You shrugged your shoulders trying your best to control your microexpressions. She seemed happy with your answer and wished you goodnight. You got in the car and turned on the playlist, your phone screen still open to it when someone knocked at your window. You rolled it down and Emily glanced at your lap, "Hey did you notice if- is that my name?" Her face was shocked, yours was pure fear. You flipped your phone over, "No." She saw right through you, "Y/n, let me see." She was smiling in a way you've never seen before. You didn't budge until Emily reached through the window and snatched your phone, turning away from your car. You unbuckled yourself and jumped out, "Emily please." It was too late.

She turned around, mouth agape, "Y/n, is this how you feel about me?" Her voice was low and dropped an octave. It shot shivers through your body erupting your core. You didn't know what to say, the damage was done. She stepped closer, reached behind you, and slid your phone into your back pocket. She went to move her hands but you grabbed her arms, holding them on your ass. "Emily." Your desperation showing in your voice. It set something off in her. Before you could process it, Emily's lips were on yours and your back was hitting your car. Her hands are on your hips gripping you tight. You snaked your arms around her neck gripping her hair. Her lips moved furiously on yours, her tongue swiping against your lips. The action made you whimper giving her access to your mouth. You could feel her chest moving on yours as she breathed heavily. She pulled away but kept her face inches from yours, "Y/n," she sighed, "This can't happen." You dropped your arms from her neck, she didn't move. "Fuck it." She said in the hottest fucking voice you've ever heard, you moaned at the sound before she attached her lips to yours again.

As her apartment door closed, bags were dropped, jackets discarded. Her lips moved against your neck as you gripped her shirt, "Emily, please." She chuckled, "Already begging for me pretty girl?" You moaned at the praise and Emily lifted a brow, "Oh you liked that huh?" Her arm reached around you to harshly grabbed your ass, "You like being praised by your boss huh? Like the slut you are?" Your knees buckled under you and she gripped your hips to keep you upright. Emily continued her attack on your neck as she pulled you to her bedroom, dropping you on the bed with a thump. "Pretty girl I need you to verbally consent for me before I fuck you senseless." She unbuttoned her shirt as you spoke, "Yes Emily, please. I need you." She slipped her shirt off exposing her black lace bra to you and you stared in awe. She laughed at you and took a finger under your chin pulling your eyes back to hers, "Up here." She spoke sternly and you didn't dare disobey at the risk of her leaving you high and dry. She straddled your lap and started undoing your shirt at an agonizing speed. You squirmed under her from impatience, "Ah, patience sweet girl. I'll get there. Although I understand why you're so needy after months of wanting me exactly like this. On top of you getting ready to make you scream my name." She slipped off your shirt and leaned in close, "I believe it was, call out my name I saw on that playlist of yours?" She left a wet sloppy kiss behind your ear. You could feel the pool of wetness growing between your legs.

She kissed down your collarbones as she unclasped your bra, throwing it somewhere in the room. She kissed down to your chest until she reached your left nipple, swirling her tongue around it, "Mhm, fuck yes." You gripped her hair harder than you planned on eliciting a moan from her. It was music to your fucking ears. She discarded her slow and steady pace and reached down to unbuckle your belt, undoing your pants and slipping them past your ankles. They hit the floor with a metallic clink before she kissed down your stomach. She pulled off your underwear with her teeth, the sight nearly making you finish right then and there. "Emily, you're wearing too much, I wanna see you." Your voice was slurring, you were so drunk on every single thing you were feeling. She sat up and undid her bra, slipping it off, her perfect breasts falling against her chest. She was perfect. She stood for a second taking off her pants, revealing her perfectly toned legs.

She positioned herself between your legs and licked up your slit. The sensation making your head spin. Your hands gripping her sheets as she took your clit between her lips humming at the taste of you. "You are so in for it Y/n." Hearing her say your name like that was music to your ears. She started flicking her tongue against your clit and your back arched off the bed. She reached one of her hands up grabbing yours giving you something to ground yourself to this moment. You gripped her hands tightly as she teased you with the other hand. Emily removed her mouth from you looking up at you making eye contact, "Beg for it." Your words got caught in your throat causing Emily to completely move her hand away from you and harshly grip your thigh, "I told you to do something Y/n." You swallowed, "Please Emily. Please fuck me. Emily, I need you, please." She smiled devilishly before slamming two fingers inside of you setting a rough pace. "That's my pretty little slut." The cockiness apparent in her tone of voice. She maintained eye contact as she reattached her lips to your clit, pulling it between her teeth softly.

Emily's pace showed no mercy as she fucked you roughly. Her tongue and lips worked against your clit as she pumped her fingers in and out of you roughly. You were so close to coming undone and she could tell. She removed her mouth from you, still fucking you with her fingers, "Do you want to cum?" You writhed under her nearly screaming from pleasure, all you could muster was a nod. "I need words." You opened your eyes and looked into hers, "Yes. Please. I'll do anything." She smirked and let go of your hand, wrapping it around your throat. You moaned her name so loudly you swore the whole building would hear, but neither of you cared. She whispered against your clit, "Cum for me Y/n." She licked your clit once more before you came screaming her name and a slew of curse words. She continued her pace fucking you through the high until your body fell limp. She slowed her pace and slowly pulled her hands from you. She kissed up your stomach, "Such a good girl. You did so good pretty girl." She pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek before disappearing into the bathroom and returning with a warm, wet washcloth. She sat down at your feet, "Is it okay if I clean you up?" Her tone was gentle and slow. You nodded, not having feelings in your face. Your whole body felt like it was vibrating. She was soft and gentle, discarding the cloth into the dirty laundry.

She pulled a t-shirt over her head and laid one out at the end of the bed. She laid next to you, pulling you into her. You wrapped your arms around her waist before snuggling your head into her neck. She wrapped her arms around your shoulders and pressed a kiss to your head. "Emily, that was." You couldn't quite form the words as your nose was still tingling. "Awesome, amazing, perfect, I know." She giggled at her joke and you smiled. "Who would've known badass Unit Chief Prentiss likes to cuddle after sex." She scoffed, "Shut up! I can be soft!" You chuckled, "There's a shirt at the end of the bed if you want it. You can go to sleep, I'll get you up in the morning." You sat up and looked at her, "I'm kind of hungry." She smiled, her eyes wrinkling, "I'll grab you a snack." She left the room and you slipped on the shirt, never leaving the bed.

The playlist you regretted making, just got you the best sex ever.

[bettysupremacy]

omg would you be down to write a soft lil remus blurby!!! maybe one where they're spending a slow sunday morn together. sleepy smiles, soft sweaters, sitting on the couch reading while they cuddle. Y'know, the type of shit that'll make you melllllt. besitos!

I genuinely know this is ask is so old but this has been sitting in my drafts forever please forgive me.

When you wake it’s warm. The sun is shining in from the cracked curtains, it beats on your back heavily, relenting coolly when you pull the covers over you. The air flows and you can feel the cold wind of Remus’ fan over the skin of your cheek. The other is pressed into his pillow. It smells like cedar and hair oil.

“Good morning” His voice is gravely, raw and thick, and you know he’s just woken up too.

“Mmm.” You murmur.

Draped across your back is his heavy arm. He’s managed to push your his large shirt up, searching for the warm skin under. He traces his fingers across the meadow of skin gently, raising goosebumps in the wake of his fingers.

“How’d you sleep?” His voice imploring as he rubs his eyes harsher than recommended. You don’t answer, rather sitting up in his hold to turn and drape yourself over him, arm around his chest. “It’s that kind of morning?”

He feels you smile into his chest. Your eyes are squeezed shut as you breathe him in. Again. Cedar and hair oil.

“It’s always that kind of morning.”

“Y’ur right.” He laughs.

He olds you into him, sharing body heat like a communal heater. Mornings like this are so rare and so cherished. Either he has work or you do. Today he does, but that’s not a focus of now.

“I want chocolate.” You murmur suddenly.

“You’ve come to the perfect man, you realize that?”

“In pancakes.”

“I can make that happen.”

You lift your head, smiling at your sandy haired boy. He raises his head from his pillow pecking your lips quickly before dropping back down. Smiling, you hold his jaw in you hand as you lean in for another kiss.

—

The kitchen is cold and bright. The sun leaks into the windows, but so does the February chill. Remus is warm though. Remus is always warm. He’s shirtless and you don’t know how. You wind your arms around his back as he stands in front of the stove. It smells good. He allows your roaming cuddle for a moment, leaning into your touch selfishly, and then,

“Go back in bed.”

You’re stumped. Caught off guard. “Rem-“

“I said,” he says, smile playing on his lips as he turns to you. “go wait in bed.”

“Oh,”

You run back in sillily, jumping into the bed and pulling the covers over your bare thighs. You can hear him laugh from the kitchen as you get comfortable. The bed creaks as you lean over it, trying to sneak a view into the kitchen.

“No peaking!”

You bounce back. “I’m not!”

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

BRO I'VE BEEN HOLDING BACK CAUSE I THOUGHT YOU'D ALREADY HAVE TOO MANP CAP. MACTAVISH REQUESTS I-

I'm here to rectify this issue immediately, how about one with him and the reader being soft? something bout seeing this rugged man melt when he comes home to his darling just egIUAfosnkew IT'S SO SWEET

—Look At The Stars; Look At Me

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Stargazing in the middle of an overgrown and wild glade.] ❞

You breathe slowly, eyes gazing longingly far above you at the twinkling lights. They take up your pupils in the low glow of the moon—the dots of those far-off globes of hydrogen and helium shining bright. 

The glade behind the hidden forest home is filled with the scent of wildflowers, grass, and the grind of fresh earth; it captures your nostrils as the fireflies come out to dance on iridescent wings. Under you, John’s blanket lets you be just the tiniest bit closer to him for the moment, limbs loose, sleep-clothes compliant to the flow of the breeze as it spreads a whisper through the leaves. 

A deer snorts downwind, a low call over the air that can be felt in the gentle quiet. Crickets creak like the old floorboards of a lived-in home. You’re eased by the knowledge that, as your Lover drives back to this place—back to you—he’s under the same stars as the ones you gawk at in the skin of an awe-drunk woman who loves him more than even this. 

A car pulls down the worn-grass road, and you hear the brakes lightly squeak on that shitty rental, a smile twitches along your face, but you don’t move.

He knows where to find you this late; knows you wouldn’t go to sleep when he’d called you not two hours earlier to say he’s back. 

The both of you are stubborn and know the other more than a priest knows his own God.

A soft whistle lets you know he’ll be there in a moment, coming from behind the treeline before the sound of a car door getting closed echoes. The birds pause for a moment, though not seconds later they re-start their bedtime symphonies. 

There’s a rustling, and your heart picks up the pace gradually, excitement making your lips peel slowly back into a wide smile as you gaze at the Herdsman and his glittering Arcturus star. Painting pictures in your mind, you think of the untold number of things he’s seen from his deep-space throne as your lover returns like a lumbering hound, already hearing his large sigh at the sight of you. 

You don’t shift your gaze until an accented comment makes you chuckle. 

“Bit of a cold night to be doin’ this,” John’s face peaks into your field of view, leaning above you with his arms crossed—one of those dark brows raised.

He looks worse for wear with a big bruise over the left side of his jaw, and medical tape on his dark eyebrow ridge. The scar is still there, over his left eye; his orbs that continue to glint more than the stars ever could in your gaze. 

You hum in your throat, blinking up at him with a tilted nose. 

“What?” Your voice makes the hardness of his face dim, a small sigh through his nostrils as if he could never truly get out of that version of himself without hearing you speak first. “Did you expect me to miss a view like this?”

He scoffs, tilting his head. “I’m not that much of an idiot. Move it.”

You smile widely, staying directly in the middle of his blanket as a smirk slashes the Captain’s lips, his blues deepening. A bird darts away from above his head. 

“Already misbehaving, then? Not a good start, Little Lady.” 

“I was here first, MacTavish.” He makes an amused noise in his throat, moving his hands from his arms to grasp under yours. You squeal, laughing loudly as he drags you up with a low chuckle into his large shirt and tucked pants. 

“Aye, you were here first,” he brings you up into his arms—a bridal hold that leads you to wrap your arms around his neck as you shake with glee, burying your head into his flesh. “Never said you weren’t.” Lips whisper into your ear and he can feel your smile as it spreads against him. “But you’ve got to pick your battles wisely, eh? I’m the one who can carry you on my arm.”

You kiss his neck a few times, quick kisses in between mutterings of love; his beard shifts as he lets a small smile, amusement lingering yet dimming for something far more important. The word seems more alive than it had moments ago, but that’s not a bad thing. No, not at all. 

“What’s the point of interest tonight, then?” He slips off his boots and walks you back onto the blanket, smoothing it out with his foot before he grunts and settles down—you in his lap. “I’ve lost where we were last time.”

“The Herdsman, John,” you remind gently, pushing on his chest so he lays back with no argument, shifting you into the crook of his right arm as it circles you. He gently squeezes and presses you tighter. 

On his chest you place your head, arm snaking around his waist to suck in his warmth with a soft sigh.

“Ah, that’s right. Herdsman.”

He kisses your forehead, digging his nose into you and closing his eyes softly. None of the stars could compare to the one in his arms—he’ll leave the gazing to you in the meantime. 

Your body in the gap between his arm was all he needed. 

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @waves-against-a-cliff, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[soullessdianthus]

5 with Simon

A/N: Here you go, I added number 12 as a nice addition. Enjoy. ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

𝐍𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐘 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 | "𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥?" + "𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥"

Warnings: smut on Ghost's couch (fingering, dirty talk?, orgasm denial, slight bondage)

Your silenced whimpers filled his ears like honey. One of his huge palms was covering your whole jaw. The other… Well, it was immersed deep between your trembling legs. 

You were sitting between his legs on an old couch in the corner of his office, his chest pressing onto your back. The tedious scent of mustiness disappeared as soon as the lieutenant spread your legs and placed them over his muscular thighs.

When he suddenly plunged two of his fingers deeper into your cunt, another shameful moan was silenced by his hand.

━ Keep it down or someone will hear you. ━ Ghost said in deep, hoarse voice just next to the sensitive ear of yours. Lieutenant kept rubbing the side of his head against your exposed neck, placing kisses through balaclava over your sensitive spots there. 

The room was quickly filled with not only your little whimpers, but also with the sound of something wet and sticky slapping against flushed skin. 

Ghost could feel when your pussy began to flutter around his fingers, he knew you were close. He could also conclude that by the way your thighs went numb and relaxed over his legs. 

You were such a needy, little thing for him. 

━ Ah~ Mph, y-yes… Lieutenant~, ye-yes! ━ You mumbled out when he finally removed his palm from your mouth, only to harshly fondle your breasts. He had to sneak his hand under your shirt. Just like he did with your trousers and soaked panties.

As the unraveling feeling of warm knot bursting in your lower stomach, tears collecting in the corner of the eye, Ghost removed his fingers from your drenched cunt. 

You gasped loudly with a small, irritated noise, when he denied you pleasure. There was nothing you could possibly do, because he tied your hands behind your back, so you could not touch yourself. 

You were at his mercy, in Ghost’s hand. It was him who decided about your euphoric peak.

━ Ask me pretty to let you finish. Just like you asked me to fuck you in the first place. ━ He said calmly, his voice sending some shivers down your spine. 

━ Pl-Please, sir. Make me cum. ━ You said, swallowing own saliva, when your mouth watered again. Christ, you were so eager, so willing for his touch.  

━ That’s it, good girl. 

Lieutenant thrusted back his two fingers into your weeping pussy and this time, he also began to rub against your sensitive clit with his other hand. 

Your spine quickly arched, eyes pressed tight - you’ve been blinded with upcoming pleasure. You couldn’t think about the consequences, if anyone outside his office would hear you. Only this moment mattered and the sweet, desired release. 

There was no hand to silence your nasty moans as you approached your orgasm. Hearing you so vocal, Ghost chuckled under his skull mask, gently smacking the swollen nub and pulling a wail out of you. 

━ You like when I do this to you, don’t you, silly girl?

To which you nodded enthusiastically, single droplets of tears falling down your blushing cheeks. 

This time Ghost didn’t stop pounding into your drenched pussy, the noises of it making himself groan. He could feel his cock twitch in his pants. 

And then the spasms of pleasure overwhelmed you as you melted into the lieutenant's touch. 

Ghost kept moving his fingers inside of you as you came all over his thick fingers, gushing his digits. The man devoured each second when you were a noisy mess.

When your breaths’ rhythm started to calm down, he stroked your empty head, brushing the hair backward. Your body clung limp against his and you stayed sitting like this on his musty couch.

━ And what do we say, eh? ━ Ghost sweet-talked to you after a moment, when the bliss started to fade away. 

━ Thank you for finding some time for me, lieutenant.

[avastrasposts]

A Baker's Dozen - Twelve

A collection of fun and fluffy one shots set in the same bakery. Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stories, twelve recipes.

Series Master List

The final Pedro boy is coming to the bakery. Twelve weeks, twelve Pedro Pascal characters and one very lucky baker girl!

Thank you all so much for your comments, reblogs and love for this slightly unusual series of short stories. I've loved writing them and I've loved reading all your comments on the chapters. The love you've shown these boys, especially some of the ones that don't always get that much attention (I'm looking at you Pero...) is heart warming and really makes me as mushy as Marcus's chocolate fondant.

So...I think you can guess who the twelfth and final boy is 🥰🥰🥰

Your Sunday morning rush is just dying down as you see Mrs Levinson come through the door. As you watch, she turns and waves someone into the shop, and you catch a glimpse of a tall man in a baseball cap and aviators, before your next customer steps up and you turn to greet them.  

You glance over at Mrs Levinson at intervals, she’s chatting to the man while waiting her turn and he’s got his back to you. As you watch, he shrugs, making an apologetic gesture with his hands and starts walking towards the front door. You can’t help but giggle under your breath as Mrs Levinson’s frail old lady hand comes out at viper speed and grabs his arm, making him stop in his tracks. Even though he looks big enough to just shake her off with another shrug, he stops and turns back to her. She gives him a smug smile, and even from behind the counter, you can see the sigh that escapes him, his shoulders lifting and dropping as his hand comes up and scratches at the back of his neck. 

You’re intrigued when it’s finally their turn, Mrs Levinson stepping up to the counter and giving you a delighted smile. The man with her follows just behind and glances up at you from under the peak of his cap. He looks uncomfortable to say the least, and you can see his fingers twitching by his side, nervously tapping his thigh.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Mrs Levinson coos, her smile bright enough to rival the sun, mischief in her eyes, “I’m so glad we caught you in the shop today.” 

“Hi, Mrs Levinson, what can I get you?” you smile back at her with slight apprehension, there is something decidedly unusual in her manner today. Plus, she was in yesterday for her weekly order, you didn’t expect to see her for at least another few days.

“Oh, I think it’s about what I can get you, my dear,” she twinkles, turning and ushering forward the man behind her, the neck visible above his gray t-shirt a deep shade of pink, “This is the boy I was telling you about, Mrs Morales’s son, Francisco.”

“Frankie”, the man says immediately, quickly pulling the aviators from his eyes and looking as if he’s just waiting for you to put him out of his misery at being coerced into this by an old lady about a third of his size. 

“She works too much, Francisco,” Mrs Levinson says, “I thought maybe you could do something about that,” she smiles at Frankie, who briefly closes his eyes and seems to send up silent a prayer. 

Mrs Levinson pats his arm, “There now, dear boy, buy something nice for your mother. This girl really bakes the most delicious cakes, I’ll let you two get acquainted.” 

With that she gives you another beaming smile, and leaves the shop, leaving you and Frankie staring at each other. You crack first, a nervous giggle erupting from inside as you realize the ridiculousness of the situation. Frankie’s eyes widen for a moment, before he cracks too, a deep wheezing laugh making his shoulders shake as he grabs hold of the counter for support. 

“I’m really sorry about that,” he finally says, drawing a deep breath as you both fight back the bubbling laughter, “She’s been talking about you for weeks and when I ran into her down the block, she wouldn’t let me leave.” 

“It’s fine, I’m used to her meddling, I swear she’s tried to set me up with everyone of her friend’s sons,” you smile. The man across the counter, in the thankfully empty shop, gives you a nervous smile back. He really is cute, you realize, as you look closer at him. A deep dimple in his cheek as he smiles, smile lines around his eyes and wild curls escaping the ball cap to wrap around his neck and ears. 

“Well, I’ll buy something and then leave, I hope this wasn’t too weird,” he says, still looking a little nervous as he rubs the back of his neck again. 

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it, she’s a menace,” you say, rolling your eyes and smiling at him, “And you seem like a perfectly nice man, I was expecting much worse from her to be honest.” 

Frankie chuckles at that, a pleasant sound, and his dark brown eyes are warm as he tugs at his cap, the pink creeping back up his neck. 

“I’m glad I've exceeded your expectations,” he says, shifting his weight on his feet, crossing his arms before he uncrosses them again and stuffs his hands in his jeans pockets, glancing up at you, one side of his mouth pulled in a crooked smile, “And to be honest, I wasn’t expecting much either, but I’m…uuh…you’re even prettier than she said.” 

Your cheeks feel like someone lit a furnace as Frankie tilts his head, his smile widening as he sees you nervously swallow, your tongue suddenly feels too thick. 

“Thanks,” you squeak, “that’s…really sweet of you to say,” a shy smile creeping across your face as you hastily rearrange the order forms on the counter before you look up at Frankie again. He’s still looking at you, a bit more confidence in his smile now, and for what feels like several minutes, but is probably only a few heartbeats, you look at each other across the counter, something starting to bubble under the surface. 

Eventually Frankie clears his throat, “I should probably buy something now right? Before you think I’m even weirder than getting dragged in here by a little old lady.” 

It makes you laugh, and Frankie smiles back at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling again as he looks at you with something that loosens a delighted little flutter in your belly. 

“She’s a very convincing little old lady,” you chuckle, “but what can I get you?”

“Uuh…I have no idea,” he fumbles, glancing across the display case and then looking up at you with a slightly desperate look, “What would you recommend?” 

“For your mother?” you ask and he nods. 

“Yeah, I think I should get her something, she always saying how good your place is,” he replies, giving you another smile, “She loves your lemon meringue pie.” 

“I don't have any left today I’m afraid,” you say, “I sold them all, but I made canelés this morning. She probably hasn’t had them before, I only just started making them,” you point to the small golden brown cakes and Frankie bends his tall frame to look closer at them. 

“What’s in them?” he asks, glancing up at you again and you grab one from the tray, handing it over to him. 

“Vanilla and rum, try it, see if you think she’ll like it.” 

“Thanks,” he says, taking the cake from your tongs and you can’t help but notice how his large hand seems to dwarf it before he takes a bite. 

“Oh yeah…” he hums, nodding as his eyes widen, “these are amazing, I think she’d love ‘em, they’re really good,” he puts the other half in his mouth and chews with a smile. The pink tip of his tongue comes out and licks his lips as he swallows the last bite down. 

“Sold,” he says with a grin, “give me eight of those, four for her, four for me.” 

“Thanks, I’m so glad you like them,” you beam as you start packing his order, “they’re my new favorite and if people like them I’ll keep making them.” 

“I hope you do, they’re really good,” Frankie replies, discreetly wiping his thumb over his bottom lip, catching some crumbs that have fallen into his scruffy beard, as he watches you.

“Alright, there you go,” you say and Frankie pulls his wallet from the pocket of his tan jacket, and taps his card on the machine, “And…I hope you come back, Frankie,” you give him a shy smile, “If Mrs Levinson didn’t scare you off.”  

“No chance,” he says, giving you a smile that makes your skin tingle, “I’m happy she made me come.”

“You’re welcome back any day,” you reply, your cheeks burning under his soft eyes. You’re both caught staring at each other for a few seconds again, Frankie swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing as he seems to search for a reason to stay, and you’re quietly hoping he’ll find one. 

“I…I should maybe get going,” he stutters eventually, taking a tentative step towards the front door, glancing down at boots, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. You’re quickly starting to love the small gesture, especially when he looks back up again from under the peak of his cap and gives you another small smile, the dimple deepening in his cheek as he sees you smile in return. 

“Bye, then,” he raises his hand in a wave, reaching the door and pulling it open, still smiling at you.

“Bye, Frankie,” you smile, mentally trying to stop yourself from twirling, “See you soon.” 

You don’t expect him to turn up as soon as he does, but on Tuesday afternoon, when you’re busy kneading dough for cinnamon rolls, you hear the doorbell jingle. Stepping out of the kitchen you can’t help the smile that creeps up when you see him standing by the door, looking around the shop. He’s foregone the cap today, his dark chocolate curls a bit tidier around the ears but still fighting to escape whatever he’s attempted to do to contain them. 

He smiles when he spots you by the kitchen door, his hand flying up to tug at his cap, forgetting it’s not there as he grabs at nothing. Fumbling he pushes his hand through his hair instead, the curls immediately escaping and creating a halo around his head. 

“Hi,” he says, walking over as you take in his long legs in dark jeans, the untucked blue shirt crinkled as if he’s just tugged it out of his pants. 

“Hi Frankie,” you smile back at him, wiping your hands on your apron, wondering how much of a mess you are, the kitchen is hot and the dough has been fighting you for the past ten minutes. He comes to a stop just in front of you and you can smell his cologne, the warm scent mixing with the cinnamon from behind you. 

“Whatever you’re baking, it smells really good,” he says, looking over your shoulder and then back at you. 

“Thanks, cinnamon rolls, the ultimate ‘good for business’ scent,” you grin, “people always buy extra when I bake them.” 

“Sneaky marketing,” he chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles and shifts his weight, “You’ve got something on your cheek, can I?” he asks, lifting his hand and you nod, wondering what the hell you managed to smear on yourself this time, “You’ve got flour right…here,” he says, his thumb gently swiping across your cheek, dusting away the smudge and leaving a warm imprint on your skin. 

“Thanks, I’m always getting stuff on my face or in my hair,” you say, attempting to wipe off your apron, covered in more flour to hide your nerves at his close proximity, “I’m a messy baker.”

“It’s cute,” he replies, swiping his thumb over the spot again, slower this time, “I think I got it all.” 

The oven timer beeps in the kitchen, interrupting the moment, “First batch,” you say, thumbing behind you, “I need to get them out.” 

Frankie nods and leans on the door frame as you hurry back into the kitchen. The warm smell of cinnamon hits you both as you open the door and you hear Frankie inhale deeply. 

“That smells incredible,” he sighs, inhaling again, “you’re clever to use that as marketing.” 

You laugh and set the trays down on one of the stainless steel counters, “I need to get a fan with an exhaust out onto the street, spread this scent across the block.” 

“You’d sell out in a heartbeat,” he chuckles as you go back to the dough and start rolling it out on the workbench. 

“I’m not disturbing you, am I?” he asks as he watches you, “I just wanted to stop by and say that my mom loved those little cakes and wanted me to ask what they’re called. I totally forgot…” he gives you an embarrassed grin as you glance over at him with a smile. 

“Canelés. And I’m glad she loved them, I’ve only got a few left but I’m making more tomorrow.” 

“Canelés, I’ll try to remember that,” Frankie says, “And I’ll tell her you’ve got a fresh batch tomorrow.” 

“You seem close with your mom,” you say, still working on the dough and Frankie smiles fondly.

“Yeah, we’re close. Wasn’t always like that though, I had some messy years after I got out of the army, I tried keeping everyone away. But she didn’t give up on me, hauled me back to town, helped me out a lot more than she should’ve needed too. I’m trying to pay her back for saving my life.” 

You look over at him, he’s leaned his head on the door frame and gives you a little embarrassed shrug, “I’m a mama’s boy.” 

“As you should be, Francisco,” you tease him, “She’s a very nice lady and one of my best customers.” 

“Even before I moved back here she was telling me about your bakery,” Frankie grins, “can’t believe it took me so long to visit,” He pushes himself off from the door frame and comes over to the workbench, “Can I help out with anything, feels weird standing there doing nothing while you’re working.” 

“You don’t have to do anything, Frankie, you’re just nice company,” you smile at him and he smiles back as the tips of his ears go slightly pink, his hand drifting down to the small of your back as he stands next to you. The warmth of his large hand radiates through the thin cotton of your t-shirt and sends a tingling up and down your spine. 

“Come on, put me to work,” he says and your mind goes blank as he slowly moves his hand up and down your back while he waits for your reply. The small motion is so unremarkable, so ordinary, but it feels like all you need to do is turn to him and let him lead, let the comfort of his solid frame standing next to you, wrap around you like the warmth from his hand. You look up at him, letting go of the rolling pin and turning into his arms, his hand on your back sliding around your waist, curling gently to hold you.   

He smiles again, tilting his head to the side as if he’s getting ready to say something, but the doorbell jingles out in the shop. Frankie leans back and peaks out, whipping his head right back in with a low curse. 

“It’s my mom!” he whispers, his eyes widening as he tries to stifle his giggles, “if she sees me back here I’ll never hear the end of it!” 

“Fridge,” you whisper back, matching his giggle under your breath, “stay close to the wall and she can’t see you.” 

Frankie nods, his grin wide and mischievous as he hugs the wall, sliding towards the fridge as quietly as he can. You wipe your hands on the apron as you make your way out to the shop, smiling at Mrs Morales. 

“Hello, Mrs Morales,” you say a bit too loudly, to hide the sound of her son opening the walk-in fridge in the kitchen, “How are things?” 

“Just fine, thank you,” the gray haired lady smiles at you and you’re hit by how much Frankie looks like her, the same warm smile and deep dimple in her cheeks. “How are you, busy as ever?” 

“I’m good, thanks. Business is a bit quieter after the holidays but I’m keeping busy, preparing for Valentine’s Day and then Easter,” you reply, strategically leaning on the counter so that she can’t see straight into the kitchen. 

“Oh, of course, Valentine’s Day is coming up soon,” she says, giving you a sly smile, “Anyone special to take you out?” 

“No, no one special,” you say, trying to keep the giggle that’s bubbling up inside contained at the thought of her son hiding just a few feet away, “I’m too busy for that, especially coming up to Valentine’s Day.” 

“Well…” she says, an air of false indifference to her tone, “if I run into any handsome single men, I’ll send them your way.” 

“That’s really nice, Mrs Morales, but you don’t need to,” you bite the inside of your cheek to stop the grin that wants to split your face, “I’m sure someone will come by the shop and ask me out.” You hope Frankie heard that, you’re sure he’s eavesdropping with the fridge door cracked open. 

“I’ll make sure they do,” his mother replies, a mischievous smile on her face so reminiscent of the one her son just gave you, before she schools her features. 

“So what can I get you today?” you ask, steering the conversation away from potential dates and she scans the selection on display. 

“My son Francisco brought me the most delicious little cakes on Sunday,” she smiles innocently, glancing up at you, “he said you sold them to him, he got some for himself too.” 

“I remember,” you say, “I have four left but I’m making fresh ones tomorrow if you want to come by then instead?” 

“Oh, you know what, that’s a great idea,” Mrs Morales beams, “I’ll send Francisco to pick them up, can I reserve ten? I’m having some friends over that I know will love them.” 

You grab your order pad and nod, not trusting yourself to not giggle madly, and write down her order, carefully folding it up and placing it next to the till before you dare look up at her again. 

“I’ll make sure to put aside ten canelés for you, Mrs Morales,” you smile, biting the inside of your cheek, “Tell Francisco I look forward to seeing him again.” 

A metallic clunk is heard from the kitchen and you quickly clear your throat, “Sorry about the noise, I’ve got a repair man taking care of the fridge.”

“Such a talented girl,” Mrs Morales smiles brightly at you, “you bake all these lovely things and run your own business,” she gives you a wave and opens the front door, “I’ll be sure to send Francisco tomorrow.” 

“Bye, Mrs Morales,” you wave, turning back to the kitchen as soon as the door closes behind her. 

Frankie is just closing the fridge door behind himself as you come in and he looks up at you. His neck is flushed beet red, his ears the most violent shade of pink and he’s pointing an accusing finger at you as he tries to stop the grin that’s splitting his rosy face. 

“She…she is bad enough,” he says, “but you, egging her on!”

“What, I was just being polite to one of my regulars,” you grin at him as he shakes his head, the same bright smile as his mom’s. 

“‘Tell Francisco I look forward to seeing him again,’“ he says, mimicking your cheerful customer service voice as you giggle, “You know, she’ll call me the second she’s in the car, I’ll never hear the end of this until I marr- “ he coughs, cutting himself off and impossibly turning an even deeper shade of beet. 

“I don’t know why you’re so worried, Frankie, I was only telling the truth,” you smile at him and go back to the workbench and the cinnamon roll dough, “I am looking forward to you coming by tomorrow.” 

Frankie lets a low chuckle escape as he scuffs his boots on the floor, coming to lean his back against the workbench. 

“That’s so?” His ears are still a beautiful shade of pink, and his small smile while he looks at you with those deep brown eyes, makes your insides fill with excited little bubbles.  

“That’s so,” you tell him as his phone starts to ring and he pulls it out of his back pocket. 

“Told you she’d call me,” he laughs, showing you his phone, “I’ll sneak out the back if that’s ok?” 

“Sure, avoid your mom, Francisco,” you tease him, but he just steps closer, drops a soft kiss to your cheek, and steps back with a smile. 

“See you tomorrow, cariño.” 

Before you can compose yourself, he’s out through the back door, giving you a final wave. 

The canelés spread their vanilla and rum scent throughout the bakery the next evening, and you’ve packed up a box of ten for Mrs Morales. The only thing missing is her handsome son to pick them up. If you had to, you’d admit to yourself that you’re really, really looking forward to him coming by. As it draws near to closing time you keep checking yourself in the small mirror, glancing out at the street. Slowly you clear out the display cases and bring things into the dishwasher, and then you hear the front door bell jingle out in the shop. 

You attempt a casual stroll out from the kitchen, and Frankie is by the door, giving you a warm smile. He’s just swiped the ball cap off his head, running his fingers through the unruly curls with one hand as he stuffs the cap into his back pocket with the other. 

“Hey,” he says, coming over as you reach the counter, “you look really nice.” 

“Thanks,” you smile back at him, glancing down at your new blouse that’s really far too nice to wear in the kitchen, “you look good too.”

Frankie’s eyebrows shoot up into his curly hairline and then he glances down at himself like he has to check what he’s wearing. 

“I do?” he asks and the disbelief in his voice makes you laugh. The faded denim shirt hugs his shoulders and he’s folded the sleeves up over his forearms, a smattering of freckles visible under the shop’s overhead lights. As he runs his palms over his chest, smoothing out the fabric you smile at him. 

“Yeah, you do, that’s a really nice color on you.” 

“Thanks,” he gives you a crooked smile, his ears turning pink. Watching Frankie blush is quickly becoming one of your favorite things and you’re glad to see that even the slightest compliment will get him there. His nervous little shuffle and the way the tip of his tongue comes out to lick at his lips before he glances up at you again, makes you feel giddy as you feign a need to wipe the tables and step out from behind the counter. 

“I just need to finish up so that I can close, but I’ve got your mom’s order ready to go,” you say and walk around him to the first table. 

“No rush,” he says, “can I help you with anything?” 

“Thanks, Frankie, do you think you could bring in the sign from the street?,” you reply, pointing to the chalkboard sign, “it’s so heavy, I always hit my shins on the damn thing.” 

“I could probably put some wheels on it for you.” Frankie says, pushing open the door, holding it open with one hand as he grabs the heavy sign with the other, effortlessly picking it up and moving it into the shop while you look at his casual display of strength with raised eyebrows.

 “What?” he says, his forehead furrowing with worry, “Did I do it wrong?” 

“It takes me two hands and a lot of grunting trying to get that thing inside without scratching the floor, and you’re acting like it weighs nothing,” you give him a mock scowl as his worried look disappears. He’s chuckling as he leans the heavy sign against the wall. 

“Sorry, I’ve handled a lot of heavy backpacks in my days, this really wasn’t that much in comparison.” 

“Show off,” you grumble and he dusts off his hands, still chuckling. 

“You’ve got other skills, like being an incredibly talented baker,” he smiles, “I bet you can make anything, no limits.” 

“As long as I’ve got a recipe, I guess,” you admit, “it’s just chemistry in the end.” 

“Have you ever made alfajores?” he asks, leaning his back against the counter and crossing his arms as you start wiping down the last table, “They’re my favorites.” 

“No, I’ve never made them, but I’ve tried them once, they’re really good.” 

“My mom doesn’t really bake, but I know she’s got my abuela’s recipe,” he says, “if you wanna try something new. The recipe is in Spanish so you know it’s authentic,” he gives you a quick grin. 

“I don’t speak Spanish, I wouldn’t be able to read it,” you say, twisting the kitchen towel in your hands as Frankie smiles at you. You’ve wiped down the last table and now you’re leaned against it, mimicking Frankie’s stance across the room. 

“Didn’t you take Spanish in high school?” he asks, his dimpled cheek making your heart flutter for a few seconds before you find your voice again. 

“Yeah, sure, but I remember like three or four things,” you can’t help but smile back at him, especially when you recall what phrases you remember. You can feel your cheeks heat up and he definitely picks up on it. 

“You only remember the dirty words?” he winks, and you have to turn away and busy yourself with wiping down the table again as you giggle. 

“No, they’re not dirty words,” you laugh, shaking out the cloth and tossing it in the back. 

“So tell me then,” he grins, “I wanna hear your Spanish!”

You feel the smile on your face, threatening to take over as your cheeks heat up even more, and he looks at you expectantly, eyebrows raised up towards his unruly brown curls. 

“Fine…” you say finally, drawing a deep breath and recalling your high school Spanish and the lines you’d learnt from a cute exchange student in college. 

“Cállate,” you say and his eyebrows shoot up even more, before he mimics zipping his lips shut and throwing away an imaginary key. 

“Ven aqui,” you continue with a smile at him and he smiles back, immediately stepping across the floor and standing obediently right in front of you.  

You pause and exhale slowly, he’s so close now, you can see the rich dark brown color of his eyes so clear, the woodsy smell of his body wash, or maybe it’s his aftershave, lingering in your nose, and his lips quirk up in a smile. He knows the effect he’s having on you, and he loves it. 

You smile back at him, working up the courage to say the next phrase.

“Bésame.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners as his smile widens. He steps a little bit closer, leaning into you, and you feel the tickle of his scruffy beard as he softly touches his lips to your cheek. He lingers for a few seconds, and you dare hardly move, you can feel his warm breath on your skin. And then he pulls back, his smile softer now, his eyes darker. 

“Any more phrases?” he asks, his voice low, and you nod slowly. 

“Un beso más.”

“Un beso más?” he whispers, his lips already so close, and you nod again as they brush against yours. 

His kiss is gentle and soft, his hands carefully coming up to curl around your waist as he bends his head to yours. The short scruff of the mustache tickles delicately against your skin as he deepens the kiss, and when you wrap your arms around his shoulders, your hands finding the silky soft curls at his neck, he hums into your mouth. His hands, so warm and large, tighten their grip and pull you a little bit closer, making you curve yourself into him. He’s solid, firm, under your arms, but his mouth is soft, warm and wet when he gently nips on your bottom lip, making you open up for him. With a small moan you let him lick into your mouth, making him groan in response and pull you tight against his chest. His hand slides up from your waist, cupping your cheek, his large hand easily spanning around your neck as his thumb caresses your skin. 

Minutes pass, the only sounds your combined breaths mingling, soft moans and wet lips pressed together. 

After what feels like an eternity, but also not long enough by far, Frankie pulls back a little, his thumb gently brushing over your kiss swollen lips, letting you chase the pad of his thumb with a small chuckle. 

“Better than I even dreamed of,” he mumbles, removing his thumb and pressing one more kiss to your lips. You hum in agreement as his tongue tangles with yours again, the need to feel more of him rising, making you curl your fingers tighter into his hair, standing on your tiptoes. 

Suddenly Frankie bends his knees, dropping his hands and grabbing the back of your thighs, picking you up. You quickly wrap your legs around his narrow waist and giggle. He continues to press kisses to your lips between the bouts of laughter that bubbles up between you as he walks back to the kitchen with you hanging on like a koala. 

“To many people walking past outside,” he mumbles as he puts you down on the counter, kissing you again, “with my luck Mrs Levinson will come into the shop.” 

“I’d say she’d be scandalized,” you giggle, “but something tells me she was a menace when she was younger.”

“Definitely, I’d say she’s done her fair share of making out,” Frankie chuckles, taking your chin between his thumb and finger, capturing your bottom lip between his own, his nose bumping against yours as he gently nibbles on your lip, making you pull him closer with a moan. 

Frankie’s hand slides up and down your back and you tangle your fingers in his hair again while he cups your cheek with the other. Several more minutes disappear as he explores every way he can pull soft moans from you with his lips close to yours. 

Eventually you pull back a little and Frankie opens his eyes. His pupils are blown wide but he’s smiling as he sneaks a final kiss from you. 

“You make me lose track of time, Francisco Morales,” you mumble as he tries to pull you in closer, making you giggle when he pouts, his plush bottom lip pink and shiny from the past few minutes. 

“Your kisses are distracting,” he smiles, “I guess I’m keeping you from important baking chores?” 

“I just need to order some things for later in the week,” you say as he steps back and pulls you off the counter. 

“Don’t let me distract you any more then,” he replies, his hands sliding down over your hips, lightly grabbing at the softness, “just let me come back soon.” 

“Come back anytime you want and I’ll make those alfajores for you,” you tell him, “just bring the recipe.” 

He smiles at that, his hands never seizing their movements up and down your curves, “I’ll bring it and we can make it together if you want,” he replies, “My abuela used to let me help her make them.” 

“I’d love that, Frankie,” you beam, “just tell me what to order,” you make him walk backwards, pushing at his wide shoulders as he chuckles, glancing behind him as you walk him towards the small office set up and your laptop. 

“Well, you need manjar, that’s what she calls dulce de leche,” he says, letting go of you as you sit down. He stands next to you, one large hand splayed on the desk for support as he leans in to look at the screen, “Fuck, I’m getting old, I need reading glasses,” he grumbles, making you giggle as you stroke your finger over the gray in his beard. 

“I bet you look really good in glasses, Frankie,” you smile up at him and he chuckles. 

“Thanks, I need to hear that often or I’ll never wear them,” he replies and you shake your head. 

“Now you’re just fishing for compliments,” you laugh, turning back to the laptop, “So, dulce de leche, anything else I might not have?”

“Corn flour?” he says, “That’s the only ingredient my abuela would have to buy specially for them, the rest is normal baking stuff.” 

“Good to know,” you say, adding the extras to your order, “We’re all set.”

“When can I come by,” Frankie asks as you stand up, following you back out to the shop. 

“I’ll have the order tomorrow, so any day after closing this week works for me,” you grab Mrs Morales’s canelés and give them to Frankie. 

“Does Friday work?” he asks, looking a bit shy all of a sudden, especially for a man who’s just spent the past half an hour kissing you breathless, “Only, I’d like to, I mean if you want to, I’d like to take you out for dinner afterwards. On a date, I mean, if you want too?” His ears go pink as he fumbles through the question and you take a step forward, putting both your hands on his cheeks and pulling his face down to yours, kissing the tip of his nose as he begins to smile. 

“I’ll love to, Frankie, dinner on Friday sounds perfect.” 

Halfway through closing on Friday afternoon you hear a knock on your backdoor. You’re already serving a customer so you ignore it, you’ve left the door unlocked for the delivery guy and he knows what to do. Mrs Levinson is next in line, ready to pick up her usual weekend order, and she’s looking very eager and chipper as she steps up to the counter. 

“Hello, dear!” she exclaims, a bright smile on her face as she winks at you, “How’s Francisco? His mother told me she sent him here the other day for a special order.” She winks at the last word, making you blush as you try to keep your composure.

“He picked it up just fine, thanks, Mrs Levinson”, you say, praying your voice is neutral. Internally you’re picturing how the little old lady’s head would likely pop with excitement if she knew how his last visit had gone. 

“Such a good looking boy, don’t you think?” she asks, and it’s very much a rhetorical question, but you nod along anyway, “Those brown eyes,” she sighs, “I tell you, if I was forty years younger….” She titters, delighted at her own joke, and you can’t help but laugh with her. 

“He does have very nice eyes, Mrs Levinson,” you smile, “I’ve got your order in the back, I’ll just get it for you.” 

You step into the kitchen, expecting to see the delivery guy, but instead you’re met by Frankie’s pink cheeks and big grin. He’s leaning on the doorway into your small back storage that leads to the backdoor, having clearly heard Mrs Levinson’s comments. He mouths a silent “Hi,” to you and you smile back at him, trying to stop the giggles that are threatening to bubble up. You have to pass him to get to where the orders are kept, and he quickly snakes an arm around your waist as you step into the storage room. His red plaid shirt is soft against your skin and the t-shirt underneath smells like him when you wrap your arm around him and return his hug. 

“Hi,” he whispers again, his mouth close to your ear, his ever present cap bumping against your cheek, as you reach up and caress his curls at his neck quickly, before grabbing the order. 

“Hi,” you whisper back, “I’ll be right back, let me just get rid of Mrs Levinson.” 

He nods and presses a warm kiss to your cheek before he lets you go. 

“Here you are, Mrs Levinson, your usual order,” you say as you step back into the shop, leaving Frankie hiding in the back room, “Anything else today?” 

“Four canelés, dear,” she smiles sweetly, “Mrs Morales was praising them, said her son just loved them.” 

“They are very nice, I’m sure you’ll love them too,” you reply, boxing four of the small cakes and ringing up her total, “There you go then, have a nice weekend now, Mrs Levinson.” 

“Speaking of Mrs Morales,” the old lady continues, ignoring your attempt to wrap up the conversation, “She said you don’t have a date for Valentine’s Day, I’m sure Francisco would love to take you out, you’d make such a handsome couple.” 

“I won’t have time for a date, really, it’s one of our busiest days,” you say, starting to wipe down the counter, praying she’ll get the hint, but no such luck. 

“Oh, nonsense, dear, you need to have some fun. I’ll tell Francisco to ask you out the next time I see him.”

“Really, Mrs Levinson, please don’t do that, I’m sure- “

You’re interrupted by the beeping of the oven timer, which is odd, the oven shouldn’t be on, but right now you’re very grateful for the beeping. 

“I’d better get that, Mrs Levinson,” you rush out, giving her a quick wave as you turn towards the kitchen, “Have a nice weekend!” 

“Always so busy, dear,” she smiles, waving back at you and leaves the bakery. With a deep sigh of relief you go back into the kitchen. Frankie is standing by the oven, fiddling with the knobs and you walk over and push the right one to turn off the alarm. 

“So I guess that was you,” you smile at him as he grins. 

“Yeah, it was either that or knock something over. Mrs Levinson was getting a bit too meddlesome,” he chuckles, glancing out through the kitchen door to make sure that she’s gone before he wraps both arms around your waist and pulls you into his chest, “Is it true you’re too busy for a date on Valentine’s Day?” he asks, “Because if you are, I’d like to ask you out for the fifteenth instead.” 

“I’m busy during the day, in the evening I’m free,” you smile up at him, “But any evening works for a date with you, Frankie.”

The tips of his ears go pink at that, and he gives you a wide, dimpled smile, bending his head to yours, his nose brushing over your cheek before he lets his lips capture yours in a soft kiss. 

“Good,” he mumbles, “because I want to take you out every night.” 

“I don’t want to go out every night,” you smile between his kisses, “Some nights I’d like to stay on the couch with pizza and a tub of ice cream.”

“Sounds like a nice night too, is there room for me on that couch?” he asks and you nod. 

“There might be, it’s not a very big couch, but I’m sure I can squeeze you in.” 

“Sounds even better,” Frankie mumbles and you can feel him smile against your lips, “How about we do some baking and then I take you out on that date I promised for tonight?”

“Let me just lock up the shop,” you kiss his warm lips one more time, before pulling away, “and we’ll get right to it.” 

“Let me grab the street sign for you, cariño,” he says, following you into the shop.

With everything locked up and the lights off in the shop, you set up in the kitchen and Frankie pulls out an envelope from his pocket. Inside is an old handwritten note in Spanish with the alfajores recipe from his grandmother. He gently smooths it out on the bench and joins you in the fridge where you’re getting the butter and eggs. 

You hear him come in and stand behind you, taking the butter from your hand as you balance three eggs in the other. 

“Anything else we need from here?” you ask and he shakes his head.

“No, just the eggs and butter, we need three egg yolks.” 

“Ok, let's get the rest in the pantry then.” 

“Lead the way,” Frankie replies, smiling as you turn to face him, and you can’t help stepping closer and reaching up so that you can kiss him. He comes willingly, bending his head to your lips, and parting them for your tongue. 

“I really like kissing you,” you mumble against his lips and you hear the low rumble of his chuckle. 

“Good,” he mutters, “because I don’t want to stop kissing you.” His eyes crinkle at the corners as you look up at him, his smile making you feel liquid inside, like jelly legs and too much fizzy drinks, bubbling over as you smile back at him. 

“Alfajores,” you finally say, after he’s kissed you a few extra times, and he chuckles again. 

“We keep getting distracted.” 

“I blame you, Francisco.” 

“I’m innocent, your lips are too kissable,” he grins and you giggle, cheeks heating up and it makes him laugh, taking your free hand in his own, “C’mon, baker girl, at this rate I’ll never get to take you out to dinner.” 

He leads you over to the pantry, listing the ingredients you need and letting you pile them high in his arms. Back at the workbench you weigh them out while Frankie translates his grandmother’s handwriting on the note. 

The ingredients come together to a loose dough and Frankie takes over, showing you how his grandmother would push the dough together without kneading. He’s shrugged out of his red plaid flannel shirt, the gray t-shirt stretching tight over his biceps as you watch his large hands gently push the dough around the bench, transfixed by how they move. 

“She always told me not to knead the dough,” he says, pressing a few more bits of dough into the circular mound taking shape, “Just push it together so that it holds its shape and then wrap it in cling film and chill in the fridge.” 

He pats the dough a few more times while you tear off a piece of plastic wrap and lay it down on the bench. 

“There,” Frankie says, gently lifting the dough onto it and wrapping it up, “thirty minutes in the fridge, then we can bake them.” 

You open the fridge door and he puts it on a shelf before coming back out and closing the door again. 

“Now how do we spend thirty minutes in a kitchen?” you ask, tilting your head with a smile, “waiting for the dough to chill?” 

Frankie raises one eyebrow, leaning back against the fridge door, giving you an amused look. 

“What did you have in mind, hermosa?” he replies as he reaches out and takes hold of your hand, pulling you towards him. 

“I was thinking…deep cleaning the oven,” you grin up at him as he wrinkles his nose, lips curling down in disappointment, “Maybe wiping out the shelves in the fridge? Or you can help me fix the blockage in the drain under the sink?” 

Frankie rolls his eyes so far back you think they’ll get stuck, but he’s grinning at the same time.

“Not really what I had in mind,” he says, both his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against his body and you bring your own arms up, cupping his cheeks and letting your thumbs caress his scruffy beard. 

“I love the little patches in your beard,” you say and lean closer, smelling the warm cotton of his t-shirt and a faint whiff of his body wash, “I especially like this one under your chin.” You make him tilt his head up as he chuckles, showing the smooth underside of his neck, freckles dotting the pebbled skin. His throat bobs as he swallows. 

“I’m glad you like ‘em,” he smiles, a small shiver running through him when you press your lips to the bare patch under his chin, “Because that’s as much beard as you’ll get from me.” 

It makes you giggle against the soft skin, the longer parts of his beard tickling your nose as you press more kisses along the underside of his jaw, keeping his head tilted back. His hands around your waist are starting to wander, slowly caressing up your back and down over your hips. A small, low sigh escapes him as you stand on your tiptoes, your mouth reaching the spot under his ear where you can feel his pulse beat. 

“Is this what you had in mind?” you ask, your voice low against the shell of his ear, his hands tightening around you. He gives you a small nod in response, lowering his head so that he can meet your eyes. He’s not smiling anymore, instead his look makes you wobble, curling your fingers around his shoulders for support. The peak of his cap nudges your forehead, closing both of you in under it, and as he moves closer, he reaches up and pulls it off. You hear it land softly on the floor next to you somewhere, but you’ve already closed your eyes as Frankie’s warm lips find yours. 

When you break apart your lips are hot to the touch, the soft scratches of Frankie’s beard tickling your skin, and the evidence of his growing need impossible to hide between your bodies. You can’t help but press closer against him, feel him jerk as your hip moves, a stifled groan caught in the back of his throat. 

“Fuck…” he mumbles, “let’s make those damn cookies so we can get out of here,” he’s tangled his fingers in your hair, holding you close to his mouth, his breath warm against your skin when he speaks, “Can we make it through dinner?” 

“I’m really not that hungry for food,” you whisper back, his lips trailing over your jaw as you speak, nibbling a wet path down your throat as his fingers gently pull at your hair, giving him more room to taste your skin. 

Another chunk of time is lost to his kisses. Every time he nips and licks at your throat, a moan escapes your open mouth, breathing heavily while you curl your fingers into his shoulders, moving down to his thick arms. 

“Frankie…” you mumble as his hands begin to slide up under your shirt, leaving warm trails across your torso, his kisses starting to move down over your clavicles as he pushes your collar to the side, “don’t start something you can’t finish here…” you warn him, but you do nothing to stop him. His rough palms grab at your flesh, pulling you closer, one last hot kiss, a mark on your skin, before lifting his head, his hands slipping down to your hips again. 

“You’re right, I don’t want to do this here,” he says, looking up at you with dark eyes, his lips rosy and pink, “Grab the dough, we making these fucking cookies now and then I’m taking you home.” 

You nod and reluctantly pull away from him as he moves to the side, letting you open the fridge door and retrieve the dough while Frankie gets a rolling pin. You watch him as he begins to roll out the dough, the muscles of his arm flexing as he presses down on the firm dough, forcing it to flatten onto the workbench. He’s focused as he works to roll it out to an even thickness, the tip of his tongue coming out in concentration as he gauges the dough with this hand.

“That’s enough, not too thin,” he says when he’s satisfied, “or the dough will break.” 

Together you use a cookie cutter on the dough and soon two trays of cookies slide into the oven under Frankie’s watchful eye. 

“We don’t want them to overbake, they should still be a pale color,” he says, closing the oven door and setting a timer on his phone. 

“Much as I’d like to get back to kissing you,” you smile at Frankie as he winks, “we should clean up so that  we can leave once they’re done.” 

“I’ll clean up, cariño,” he smiles back, “get the manjar and a piping bag and get us set up for the cookies.” 

You nod and do as he says, watching him as he efficiently wipes down the workbench and the counters, removing the leftover dough and putting away the ingredients. You fill the piping bag with the soft manjar and lean on the workbench while Frankie rinses the cloth and hangs it to dry. 

“Do you need a job, Frankie?” you ask, “I’d hire you in a heartbeat with those cleaning skills.” 

“One of the few good habits I picked up in the military,” he gives you a crooked smile as the timer goes off on his phone and he pulls out the cookies, “That and making beds with sharp corners. Nothing else good came out of those years.” 

A brief shadow passes his eyes as he puts the tray down, turning back to hand the oven mitts on their hook without meeting your eyes. When he comes back to the bench you put your arm around his waist and pull him into your side, pressing your lips to his cheek. He leans into it, his eyes briefly closing with a small contented sigh. 

“I’ll tell you about it someday,” he says, “I don’t want to ruin this moment.” 

“Ok, Frankie,” you reply, your lips still close to his cheek, another kiss to his small bare patch there, and you see his smile return, his warm brown eyes finding yours again. 

“You’re on manjar duty, I don’t trust my piping skills. I’ll sandwich the cookies.” 

“Did your granny say anything about how much manjar each cookie should have?” you ask, picking up the piping bag. 

“About the same thickness as the cookie,” he replies, holding the first cookie steady for you, “There you go, perfect!” He grabs the cookie you’ve just piped the filling on and presses a second down on top before rolling it in desiccated coconut and holding it up proudly. 

“Our first alfajores cookie,” he chuckles, “I’m so proud of us.” 

“Couldn’t have done it without you or your grandmother, Frankie” you smile at him, getting to work on the rest of the cookies. Frankie puts down the first one and starts assembling the rest.

“We make a good team,” he says, “and I can’t wait for you to try these, her’s are the best ones I’ve ever had.” 

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to put the rest of the cookies together, with a flourish Frankie rolls the edges of the last cookie in the coconut and holds it out to you. 

“Go on, try it,” he says with a smile, picking up a second one for himself. The light and airy cookie crumbles as you bite into it, the manjar coating your mouth as you hum around the flavors. The hint of lemon in the cookie blends with the filling and it makes your mouth water. 

“So good, Frankie,” you mumble, your mouth still full and he chuckles, biting into his own a bit too eagerly. Manjar squeezes out around the sides and he quickly catches a blob with his tongue, his fingers coated in the sticky filling. 

“Damn, I should’ve remembered, I always make a mess eating these,” he laughs, tilting his head back to stop the cookie from falling out of his hand as he stuffs the whole thing into his mouth. With puffed out cheeks he grins down at you, chewing the cookie with a happy face. 

“As good as you remember?” you ask and he nods. 

“Even better,” he says, his voice garbled from the mouthful of alfajores and it makes you giggle as he swallows the whole thing down. His fingers are covered in manjar and he tries to lick it off, the sight of his pink tongue sliding over his index finger temporarily shutting down your brain as you stare at his mouth. Frankie’s eyes flick up to your face, seeing your expression, and slowly pulls his finger from his mouth. Holding it out to you, he gives you a mischievous smirk. 

“Here, try it.” 

There’s a challenge to his tone, daring you to step up to him and cross a very weak line in where this new relationship is. The sight of his thick fingers, smudges of manjar stil clinging to them, and his brown eyes going dark as they lock on to you, makes it an easy step to take. 

Your own hand wraps around his wrist as you pull his fingers towards your lips, Frankie’s jaw falling open of its own accord and his eyes drop to your mouth. His thumb has a dark streak of caramelized filling near the top and as you take it between your lips, your tongue tasting sugar and salt, he groans, louder than he intended in the quiet kitchen. From the corner of your eye you can see the hand hanging idly by his side twitching, the fingers opening and closing as another, lower, groan slips from him. Your tongue is wrapping around his thumb, closing your lips around it and sucking it deeper into your mouth. Frankie’s eyelids are heavy, threatening to close, but he fights to keep them open, starting at the way your mouth takes his thumb, images of other things disappearing between your lips making arousal thrum through his body. 

“Fuck…” he mumbles, “fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

With a soft pop you pull off his thumb, gently wiping the corner of your mouth with tongue as Frankie inhales sharply. 

Three long steps and he’s got you pinned against the fridge, his hands suddenly on your waist and behind your neck. He bends his head, finding you eagerly waiting for his mouth as his tongue pushes past your lips. He’s not hiding the way he’s grinding his hard on against your hips, your moans mixing with his breathy groans as you grab hold of his waist and pull him closer. With a growl he buries his face against your shoulder, his mouth hot against your neck. 

“Fuck….” he groans again, “You feel so fucking good, just put the damn alfajores away, we’re leaving now.” 

He pulls away a little, you can feel your face flushed as you press your legs together, heat shooting through every nerve ending. He’s caging you in now, his eyes dark under his furrowed brow, pressing a final heated kiss to your lips before he steps back, pulling you with him. 

“I’ll get a box for them,” you mumble, reluctantly moving away from him to the work bench. He bends to swipe his cap from the floor and shrugs back into his flannel shirt and watches you fold one of the take away boxes and pack the alfajores. 

“Grab leftover manjar too,” he suddenly says, pointing to the piping bag, still half full with the sticky filling, “I know other uses for it.” 

You look over your shoulder at him with a raised eyebrow and he winks at you, snaking his arms around your waist from behind before he bends his head to your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin as he nips at your earlobe. 

“I’m thinking I’ve got other places that you might need to lick it from.”

Part Thirteen

Series Master List

A/N: I hope you enjoyed Frankie's visit to the bakery, I know I loved going back and writing my favourite Pedro boy.

But this is not the end because, as some of you have pointed out; a baker's dozen is thirteen, not twelve. So as this post goes up, I'll also put up a poll where everyone can vote for what Pedro boy they'd like to see return to the bakery, a second part to their story. Vote for your favourite to return!

The Poll!

In the meanwhile, thank you all for reading, commenting and sharing!

Tag list: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3  @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers  

[nova-amor]

༘☁︎⋆ ◜ 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐧? ◞

every thought and nerve in miguel's body screamed for him to retreat, a war waging within him— torn between his desires to be with you and his morals. his feet were glued to the ground, his hands twitching by his side as his mind raced a million miles per hour, muscles tensed with both anticipation and anxiety.

"miguel," the whisper of his name from your lips pulled him away from his thoughts and brought him back to reality. your soft hands finding their place on the sides of his face, thumbs caressing the peaks of his cheek bones as you brought his gaze down to yours. whatever guilt and anxiety that had been plaguing miguel's heart moments ago was long gone— his body now buzzing with the intensity of your connection. "i've wanted you for so long, miguel, please... i need you."

in that moment, miguel knew that he was willing to risk anything and everything for you— morals be damned. he leaned into your touch, his thick arms wrapping around the small of your waist as he leaned in to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. a low, guttural moan escaped his throat as your fingers tangled themselves in his hair— tugging at the dark, silky strands as his hands roamed over the length of your body, cupping your ass with both hands before hoisting you up into the air.

miguel guided you to the edge of the bed, lowering you down to lay on your back as he hovered over you, one of his legs propped up onto the bed by your side to pin you beneath his weight. he murmured a curse in Spanish as he pulled away from the kiss, the look of hunger in his brown eyes making the ache between your thighs grow stronger.

"we shouldn't do this," miguel breathed out, his hands exploring every curve and inch of your body, committing every detail of this moment to his memory. he was still ashamed— the weight of guilt returning to weigh his conscious down. you were so much younger than him, at least a decade apart— you still had so much life and youth in you and he didn't want to take that away. "we should stop, i should leave."

"miguel, stop it," you finally snapped, wrapping your arms around his neck, tugging him back down so close that your lips were barely a centimeter apart. "stop being such an old man— i don't care that you're older than me, if anything i like that you're older than me. at the end of the day, we're both consenting adults and we both want each other so stop overthinking."

miguel bit at the inside of his cheek, brows furrowing as he focused on one singular part of your statement. "who are you calling an old man?" he questioned, his voice low and laced with a hint of anger. you met his anger with a smile, fully knowing that you had struck an irritating nerve.

"you— stop bein' an old man and fuck me," you poked at the nerve again, noting how his crimson eyes seemed to darken as each second ticked by. "or are you too scared of pullin’ a muscle, old man.” now that surely seemed to wash away any lingering doubt and anxiety from him.

miguel's head dived into the crook of your neck, elliciting a scream from your throat as he bit at the sensitive skin with the sharp edges of his fangs. one of his hands found the crown of your head, forcing your head to side further as he gripped the top of your head so that he could freely sink his teeth and suck at your neck— staking his claim on you through numerous bite marks and hickeys.

"don't ever call me that again, nena," miguel growled into your skin, bunching your shirt up to expose your bra-clad chest. he trailed a heated path of his kisses down your chest, the flat of his tongue lapping at your cleavage, your back arching higher in a frenzy to feel more of him.

he peeled the cloth of your bra back, soft lips wrapping around your areola while his other hand latched to your other breast. twisting, pinching, and tugging at your nipples with his tongue, teeth, and rough fingers.

“or what? old man…” you teasingly asked him, smirking at the sight of miguel finally giving into his primal desires to consume every inch of you. he grunted in return, his fangs sinking into the plump flesh of your breast to stamp another claim on you.

and that evening, miguel had proved to you that, regardless of the years between you two, he was most definitely not an old man.