How Do We Feel About An X Reader Where You Just Wanna Forget About This Whole Big City Life For The New

Dear twd(The Walking Dead) people of tumblr....

Why is there no (or hard to find) fanfics with Norman Reedus but not as Daryl Dixon from twd ???😭😭😭😭

I'm not judging, but for real if there are then they are hard to find in the sea of Dixon fics

I WANT REEDUSSSSS🏃💨

---

Congratulations on your milestone!!! If you're still taking microdrabble requests... How can I, as a tattooed girl, turn down Mr. Daniels in a tattoo parlor AU? x

Here we are, my first ever AU (if you don't count Palomino!). This was incredibly fun to write, thank you Lucy for sending in this request. Now, I didn't have the word count to talk about what Jack has tattooed on his arms, but if you'd like to know, you know what to do 😉

Jack Daniels x tattoo parlour AU

Fuck Yeah 2022 Sleepover micro drabble request | 360ish words | warnings: mature themes but not explicit, Jack is a menace any universe he's in, mentions of alcohol consumption

You stomp your foot, the two glasses of wine you had with dinner making you more petulant than usual, jutting your bottom lip out in a pout. 'What do you mean no?'

The proprietor who introduced himself as Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels gives you a stern look from under the brim of his black cowboy hat. 'Exactly what that means, sugar. No.'

'This is a tattoo parlour. Aren't you supposed to give the customer what they want?'

With a sigh, he leans on his palms on the counter, and you can't help but run your eyes over this man. He's wearing a white wifebeater under a thin leather jacket, sleeves pushed up to the crease of his elbows. His forearms flex, sending a ripple through his full sleeves tattoos with the movement.

'But you don't know what you want,' he points out.

'So what? Just tattoo whatever on me - I don't care!'

He scoffs. 'Oh, I ain't fallin' for that again. Nearly cost me my shop last time.'

'C'mon. I just want a small tattoo,' you whine. 'I'm on my Eat, Pray, Love journey.'

'In Kentucky?'

You try a different tact, softening your eyes and drawing your brows into a pleading angle. 'I just want to do something stupid. For once.'

At that, he arches an eyebrow, and his whole demeanour changes. A lazy arrogance settles into his handsome face, and his lips pull into a grinning smirk as he traps you with something bordering on lecherous in his gaze.

It really shouldn't work on you - but it does.

'Well, well, well, you don't say, sugar,' he drawls. 'If you wanted to do somethin' stupid - why don't you just do me?'

Three quarters of an hour later, sweaty and half-undressed on a cushioned tattoo table, you grin at the man slumped on top of you through dilated pupils, your body sluggish with a bone-deep satisfaction that you haven't felt for a long, long time.

'I know what tattoo I want to get now,' you declare, still breathing heavily when you reach up to push a damp curl from his forehead.

'Is that so?' he hums, pressing a kiss to your temple, but otherwise showing no intention to move off you. 'And what might that be?'

'Your face. On my neck.'

Jack laughs, the sound deep and velvety against your warm cheek as his eyes crinkle. 'Now that's definitely somethin' stupid.'

my spidersona probably 

HUGH JACKMAN X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014)

Across The Bar

Logan Howlett x Reader

The first time you met Logan. (Can be read as a stand-alone fic, but it is a prequel- of sorts- to my other fic, Baby, Baby. This is set about four months before the events of that fanfiction- when Logan and Y/N met.)

Content warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, smoking, thoughts about and allusions to sex, feral!logan, bit of a perv!logan (?), masturbation (M)

This is considered a mature work of fiction. Minors do not interact. 18+ only.

Smoke rises from the end of the freshly clipped cigar, catching in the warm yellow of the overhead lighting. It rests between his pointer and middle fingers; he brings the cigar up to his lips and takes another puff. The thick, heady scent of nicotine dances through the stagnant air of the bar, He is wrapped in allure, his muscular frame barely hidden by the worn, umber leather jacket that stretches across the wide expanse of his shoulders. Dregs of ice and long forgotten whisky sit in the short glass before him. The stranger rests a heavy hand onto the sticky counter top- dried remnants of drinks passed coagulate on the varnished wooden surface. Logan would grimace at this, usually. Not tonight though. Tonight is different, tonight he saw you. You with the easiest, brightest smile. You, with sparkling eyes he wanted, no- needed to see rolling back into your head as he fucked himself into your cunt. You with the prettiest lips he’d ever seen- lips that he’d do ungodly deeds to see wrapped around his cock.

You captivated him entirely the moment you walked through the door. He had heard you before he saw you. A boisterous laugh ran through your body and echoed through the entire bar, the warm and unapologetic sound captured his attention. Logan turned his head to see you with a rowdy group of people he assumed were your friends. Their laughter seemed dull and faded, their very way of being was muted, insignificant, in comparison to your astounding presence. He decided- he knew, in that moment, that nothing could hold a candle to the all-encompassing glory of you. He feels his old, withered heart do something it hadn’t done in a long time- it clenches. The pang of want resonates from deep within his chest, and it stuns him. Logan didn’t know where this sudden rush of pure feeling came from, but he knew he wanted more of it- he wanted more of the pretty girl at the other end of the bar.

You obviously noticed the beautiful, bearded, brooding, behemoth of a man in the far corner of the room. It’s the first thing your friends comment on after their initial order of tequila shots. An eruption of low whistles and panting and dramatic face fanning breaks out amongst the group of you. Your eyes rake down his form. Sturdy thighs spread open on the oak bar stool, broad shoulders keep the fabric of his jacket taut. He’s hot, there’s no doubt about it.

The stranger clad in leather stares straight ahead, giving you a perfect view of his side profile. He has lush lips that are set in a slight frown. He has tired, hardened eyes. His eyebrows are furrowed. You’d be intimidated by him, if he wasn’t so fucking gorgeous. His beard fluffs at his jaw and tufts of hair curve out above his ears. Without a shadow of a doubt, he is one of the most physically imposing men you’ve ever seen. He’s broad and tall and strong- his biceps fill the sleeves of his jacket; the contours of his back muscles can almost be seen, even under a substantial barrier of leather. His hands rest on the bar, one leaning against an ashtray- a rolled cigar between his fingers, the other is gently splayed across his glass of whisky.

 You notice his fingers, thick and long. Delicious. The veins on his hands protrude in the prettiest way- those hands have been worked. Your mind wanders to if they’d feel good working you, spreading your pussy lips just right, fucking in and out of you… Your daze is quickly ended with the arrival of ten shots on the bar counter. Your tongue darts out of your mouth to lick the salt and suck the lemon, before downing the tequila. A familiar burn runs through you, the heat of the alcohol feeding your ever-growing intrigue toward the man at the opposite end of the bar.

Logan watches as your tongue extends down to lap the lightly sprinkled salt off your hand, he can’t help it. He feels a pang of guilt momentarily because he doesn’t even know you, and yet he couldn’t stop thinking about all the filthy things he wanted to do with you… All the things he wanted to do to you. That feeling, however, is quickly stamped out as your wet tongue makes contact with your skin. All other thoughts dissipate as he sees your painted lips wrap around the slice of lemon in your right hand. His breath catches in his lungs, blood rushes to his cock. He’s lost all decorum; he feels like a young man again. Although he fails to recall, even in his much younger days, exactly when the presence of a woman had this great of an impact on him.

He watches you down the soft amber liquid in one quick motion. You let out a shaky breath though gritted teeth, your features contorting in response to the hard liquor. A dazzling smile finds its way onto your face right as you recovered and, by God, Logan thought he’d been shot. The brightness, the pureness, the innocence of your smile hits him in the chest like a ton of bricks. He feels the air leave his lungs and he thinks to himself that he could live like this- breathless, chest burning, body lit ablaze with need- if it meant he could just see you smile like that at him.

Logan quickly diverts his eyes, forcing his gaze away from the little red dress you have on. Eyes drift down to the beads of condensation that gathered at the bottom of his glass. His hand moves swiftly to pick up the tumbler and Logan gulps down the remainder of his drink, finding a brief reprieve from the swell of emotion he feels. He taps his fingers on the bar twice, signaling his need for a refill.

You rifle through your purse, fishing out a single Marlboro Red and grimacing at your lack of a lighter. You turn to your friend Sara, “Do you have a light for me, S?” Your eyes wide and pleading. She scoffs, pushing a few loose red curls off the curve of her shoulder, “Y/N, babe, ew. You still smoke cigarettes?” Her lip curls up in disgust, not so slightly.

“It’s the correct way to enjoy nicotine.” You shrug, “You’ve all deluded yourselves with those watermelon-fizz-orgasm-kiwi-explosion vapes, but one day you’ll come back to the light. I have faith.” I clutch my fists to my chest and sigh dramatically.

“No babe, I’m fairly sure you’re the delusional one-” Sara tilts her head and fixes her gaze behind me, to the end of the bar with the handsome stranger. The flickering of a flame catches her attention and a smirk creeps up onto her freckled cheeks. “Actually, forget about that.” Her mossy gaze returns to you, and she has a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. “Why don’t you go and ask him for a light?” She nods at Sex On Legs who’s sitting down at the opposing corner of the bar.

You pivot to face his direction, butterflies erupt in your stomach from the mere sight of him, brooding and sexy… so fucking unbelievably sexy. Seriously, he looks like if God conceived the most beautiful man ever and improved him one thousand percent. That face was made for GQ cover shoots, or at least gloomy, brooding men’s cologne ads. He is, indeed, in possession of a lighter. The orange flame that emanates from the small silver contraption fans over the the front of his cigar, the soft glow illuminates his features, and he is somehow, miraculously, even more handsome. ‘Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me!’ Is all that goes through your mind, as you decide to approach him. You try your best to keep your breathing even as the distance between the two of you closes.

Logan hears you approaching, his ears practically pricked up in anticipation as your friend encourages you to come over. He slides his lighter into the pocket of his dark wash jeans and takes another puff of his cigar, almost absentmindedly. When you’re less than a foot away from him, he raises his gaze to your face. Your eyes lock onto his, drinking in the honey, the emerald and liquid gold of his irises. He tilts his head backwards with a sinfully attractive ease and regards you.

Your cigarette is pinched between your thumb and index finger, you raise it slightly, “Hey, uh. Could you do your fellow smoker a solid and lend me your lighter?” You give him an apprehensive smile, and he finds it endearing. Logan nods wordlessly at your request, his eyes never leave your face. He shifts his hips on the bar stool to fish the sought after contraption out of his pocket. Your eyes follow his hand down to his hips and have to stifle the sharp gasp that escapes you upon seeing the sheer girth of his muscular thighs. Logan smirks, a smug bastard through and through. Seeing the effect that he has on you, a wave of desire rolls through his body. He extends his arm to you, the flame of the lighter flickers eagerly. You bring the cigarette to your lips and hover the tip over the flame, sucking in a few breaths to ensure it’s properly lit. You exhale slowly, feeling the familiar sweep of the nicotine tingling down your arms and settling into your fingertips. A lazy smile graces your face, “Thank you, really. You’re a lifesaver…” He retracts his hand, slotting the lighter back into his pocket.

“Logan.” His voice is gravelly and low, it makes your pussy flutter. His lips curl up into a smile, “And you are?”

You tell him your name. He soaks it in, relishes in it. Logan burns it into his mind, the most beautiful name he’s heard for the world’s most radiant woman. Makes sense to him. He mutters out, “Pretty.”

He clears his throat, “So,” He steps down from his chair and stands before you, in all his glory. The deep, musky scent of his cologne floats up and caresses your senses. Fuck, you think to yourself, he looks so yummy, and he smells this fucking good… You want to lick him. You need to lick him. You find it harder than you anticipated to stop thinking about running your tongue up his neck.

“Since I’m already in the business of doing you favors, can I buy you a drink?” Logan enquires, his eyes flit down to your chest occasionally. He should feel bad about how shameless he’s being, but your tits look so fucking pretty in that dress- he finds it hard to even fake remorse.

“How presumptuous of you to assume that lighting my cigarette was an act worthy of the title of ‘favor.’” You tilt your head to the side slightly, an easy smile on your face.

He raises his eyebrows, a playful smirk widening on his perfect lips, “Are you judge, jury and executioner on what constitutes favors, Y/N?”

“Who’s to say I’m not, Logan?” You take another long inhale of your cigarette and bat your eyelashes up at him. A halfhearted scoff leaves his lips. The warmth in his eyes keeps you completely captivated; your knees feel weak under the intensity of his gaze.

“You want the drink or not, pretty girl?” He takes a step closer to you, heat radiates from his chest.

“Of course, I’m not one to refuse handsome strangers giving out favors.”

Logan smiles at you, it is wide and genuine- you don’t fully appreciate just how lucky you are to be on the receiving end of this rare gift. His heart clenches in his chest again when you return his gesture with a bright smile of your own.

Logans fingers twitch, he’d burn the world to be able to touch you. He doesn't think he's ever seen such ethereal beauty in his life before, you wholly and completely captivate him. He is hooked on your every word. He feels completely lost and encompassed by your presence- he needs to swim in all that you are, he'd let it drown him.

As the night progresses, your proximity to each other grows increasingly close. Shoulders touching, knees bumping against each other. His wayward hand that finds its way onto your knee, your fingers that trace lazy patterns on his thigh, conversations that went from obnoxiously loud laughs to hushed words alluding to something more.

His breath fans on your ear, the rumbling timbre of his voice sends chills down your body. He brings his hand up and cups your cheek, his thumb brushes your skin in smooth, soothing movements, “So, pretty girl... will you let me-”

Logan is cut off by the untimely and, slightly inconvenient arrival of your friend Sara. “B-Babe -" She hiccups, as she takes your shoulders and holds them for balance, fully turning you away from Logan. “Babe, I- I don't feel-" She hiccups and sighs frustratedly, "I don't feel good. Can we- will you take me home?”

Your eyebrows furrow in concern for your friend, "Of course, S." You stand up and help Sara into her jacket. “Babe, just give me a second, okay?" You leave her at a booth with a glass of ice water and a prayer that she can hold out until you got back to her apartment.

Logan stands at the bar, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. “Hey. She alright?” He shifts his gaze over to your inebriated friend and gives you a sympathetic smile.

“Oh, y-yeah. I mean- she will be fine. I just need to get her home. I'm sorry, I-” You smile sheepishly and fiddle with one of your rings. “I was having a really- uh- a nice time with you.”

Logan nods, his heart swelling from the confirmation that you enjoyed his company, at least a fraction of the amount he enjoyed yours. “Me too, pretty girl. Let me give you my number- if you're so inclined, you can call me sometime and- and I'd be happy to do you some more favors.” Fuck, could I be any more of a fucking old man than that? What the fuck, Logan. He thinks to himself.

You wave back to him as you're exiting the bar, napkin still clutched in your hand.

You text him a few hours later, after Sara had been fed, showered and put to bed.

The abrupt ding of a notification tone rings out in Logan's bedroom. The white light of his phone provides the littlest bit of illumination. Logans eyes drift over to the message, he sees its you. A satisfied smile makes its way onto his face and he drops his pants, his cock strains against the fabric of his boxers. Logan pants, just the thought of you has him acting crazy. He's a good man- a rational man, he tries to assure himself. His convictions, however, are not stronger than his desire for you.

He sighs, almost saddened at his weakness and sheer lack of backbone when it comes to you. He wraps his hand around his cock and hisses as he squeezes down on it.

He rocks his hips faster and fucks his hand with fervor. He has conjured images of you on your knees for him, images of him on his knees for you. He thinks about how it would feel to push his cock into your wet pussy; how it would feel to pump his cum into you. He grunts, hand tightening around his cock. Logan tenses and spills into his hand, he keeps the same rhythm and brings his other hand down to massage his balls. He lets out a low moan as he rides out his high.

As soon as it's over, an overwhelming guilt plagues him. "What the fuck am I doing?" He mutters to himself, running a clean hand through his hair. He studies the spend on his other hand, regarding the ropes of cum with distain. Logan shuffles into the shower, letting the hot water beat down on his back. His forehead rests against the cold tile of the wall and he sucks in a few deep breaths. He assures himself that it could not possibly get worse than that- perhaps his was all he needed, a quick release. And now that it was over, he'd make sure it didn't happen again.

He had no idea how wrong he was.

Here's the (sort of) part 2 to Baby, Baby. Please let me know what you think! Would yall like it of this was a series?

- Viv xoxo

STOLE IT💰🏃💨

Resources For Writing Sketchy Topics

Medicine

A Study In Physical Injury

Comas

Medical Facts And Tips For Your Writing Needs

Broken Bones

Burns

Unconsciousness & Head Trauma

Blood Loss

Stab Wounds

Pain & Shock

All About Mechanical Injuries (Injuries Caused By Violence)

Writing Specific Characters

Portraying a kleptomaniac.

Playing a character with cancer.

How to portray a power driven character.

Playing the manipulative character.

Portraying a character with borderline personality disorder.

Playing a character with Orthorexia Nervosa.

Writing a character who lost someone important.

Playing the bullies.

Portraying the drug dealer.

Playing a rebellious character.

How to portray a sociopath.

How to write characters with PTSD.

Playing characters with memory loss.

Playing a pyromaniac.

How to write a mute character.

How to write a character with an OCD.

How to play a stoner.

Playing a character with an eating disorder.

Portraying a character who is anti-social.

Portraying a character who is depressed.

How to portray someone with dyslexia.

How to portray a character with bipolar disorder.

Portraying a character with severe depression.

How to play a serial killer.

Writing insane characters.

Playing a character under the influence of marijuana.

Tips on writing a drug addict.

How to write a character with HPD.

Writing a character with Nymphomania.

Writing a character with schizophrenia.

Writing a character with Dissociative Identity Disorder.

Writing a character with depression.

Writing a character who suffers from night terrors.

Writing a character with paranoid personality disorder.

How to play a victim of rape.

How to play a mentally ill/insane character.

Writing a character who self-harms.

Writing a character who is high on amphetamines.

How to play the stalker.

How to portray a character high on cocaine.

Playing a character with ADHD.

How to play a sexual assault victim.

Writing a compulsive gambler.

Playing a character who is faking a disorder.

Playing a prisoner.

Portraying an emotionally detached character.

How to play a character with social anxiety.

Portraying a character who is high.

Portraying characters who have secrets.

Portraying a recovering alcoholic.

Portraying a sex addict.

How to play someone creepy.

Portraying sexually/emotionally abused characters.

Playing a character under the influence of drugs.

Playing a character who struggles with Bulimia.

Illegal Activity

Examining Mob Mentality

How Street Gangs Work

Domestic Abuse

Torture

Assault

Murder

Terrorism

Internet Fraud

Cyberwarfare

Computer Viruses

Corporate Crime

Political Corruption

Drug Trafficking

Human Trafficking

Sex Trafficking

Illegal Immigration

Contemporary Slavery 

Black Market Prices & Profits

AK-47 prices on the black market

Bribes

Computer Hackers and Online Fraud

Contract Killing

Exotic Animals

Fake Diplomas

Fake ID Cards, Passports and Other Identity Documents

Human Smuggling Fees

Human Traffickers Prices

Kidney and Organ Trafficking Prices

Prostitution Prices

Cocaine Prices

Ecstasy Pills Prices

Heroin Prices

Marijuana Prices

Meth Prices

Earnings From Illegal Jobs

Countries In Order Of Largest To Smallest Risk

Forensics

arson

Asphyxia

Blood Analysis

Book Review

Cause & Manner of Death

Chemistry/Physics

Computers/Cell Phones/Electronics

Cool & Odd-Mostly Odd

Corpse Identification

Corpse Location

Crime and Science Radio

crime lab

Crime Scene

Cults and Religions

DNA

Document Examination

Fingerprints/Patterned Evidence

Firearms Analysis

Forensic Anthropology

Forensic Art

Forensic Dentistry

Forensic History

Forensic Psychiatry

General Forensics

Guest Blogger

High Tech Forensics

Interesting Cases

Interesting Places

Interviews

Medical History

Medical Issues

Misc

Multiple Murderers

On This Day

Poisons & Drugs

Police Procedure

Q&A

serial killers

Space Program

Stupid Criminals

Theft

Time of Death

Toxicology

Trauma

like to charge, reblog to cast <3

Little realized in the last moments of the movie (I realized, and went from "GAWD DAMN THE GAYS" to "Oh...that's..us."

Deadpool & Wolverine (2024)

wip wednesday!

hi my beautiful people! this is something ive been working on between other stuff so let me know what you think!

nsfw below!

˚｡⋆⟡♡⟡⋆｡˚

You lean back against the seat, eyes speaking a thousand words as they meet his. God, he’s so handsome. His pretty hazel eyes, the slope of his nose, the salt and pepper stubble across his cheeks. Oh, how you want to feel the burn against your—

“Stop that.” Logan’s grunt snaps you out of your thoughts,

“Stop what?” You go for innocence but really, your tone is saturated in desire and it gives you away entirely.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what, Logan?” You’re challenging him, and though you can’t see it from the backseat, his dress pants get considerably tighter at the defiance in your voice. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Bullshit,” He counters, eyes flickering to yours and you choose then to bite down on your glossy lips. His knuckles flex with the urge to release the claws piercing beneath his skin. Is he crazy for being jealous that he’s not the one biting into the plush skin? “You’re staring at me like you want me to fuck you.”

Vermillion warmth spreads from your chest to your cheeks at his bluntness. It’s completely true, but the lewdness makes you flush, and your panties to dampen at the thought.

“It’s not gonna happen, baby.” His tone is final and it pisses you off. “Knock it off.”

You roll your eyes, turning to stare out the window. You’re not sure when it started raining, but the water droplets hit the glass pane harshly with its momentum. The pitter patter of water should distract you from Logan, but it just sends you further spiraling.

How dare he deny your feelings and then call you baby?

Welcome to my Kingsman side, that I didn't explore about on Tumblr until now😭

Cowboy hat rule

Jack Daniels (or any other cowboy) x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Summary: the aftermath of taking a Cowboys hat Rating: smut, almost no plot

Word count: 1178

With all the smoke and people trying to talk over each other the atmosphere in the bar feels steamy. Just like others, filled with liquid courage girls, she’s doing her best stealing the attention of a man. Not just any man, a handsome cowboy who without even trying makes her nervous like she’s a teenager.

At this point, innocent touches are standard. Lips getting so close to the delicate elope, so the sentence doesn’t get lost in the loud bar. Or hands placed gently on the lower back when passing by. They don’t have to do that. They could scream or go around the table but they both feel the unapprehended need to be as close as possible. Closer than the fabric of their clothes.

The cowboy compliments her dress which earns him a smile and a spin from the girl. If she moved a liter faster he could see her underwear. Or maybe she doesn’t wear any. A thought that now can’t escape his mind. She wants to compliment him too, but truth be told she doesn’t like his clothes. They cower his broad shoulders which is a crime. She reaches for the hat but he stops her in the middle of that action.

"Be careful. If you take a cowboy’s hat, you’ll have to ride him” he warns her in a deep voice.

‘’That’s a rule?’’ she legitimately is surprised when he nods ‘’yes” but this state doesn’t last long. There’s something about him. Making her want to do things usually she doesn’t do. Making her desperate for any of his attention. In a crowded bar, there’s no space to figure out what it is. She has to take him somewhere where they could explore each other.

Without hesitation, she looks him deeply in the eyes and once again reaches for his cowboy hat. This time he doesn’t stop her. She’s a big girl, she knows what she’s doing. Still, the pupils in his eyes get wider at her action. When the hat, his hat, takes a place on her head he’s ready to fuck her right there. Luckily for him, she already has a plan.

‘’You drove here, right?”

---------

Even with the thick fabric of her jeans, she can feel his hands digging into her cheeks. There’s so much power and strength in the movement but it doesn’t hurt at all. He must have done it many times before. Every grind sends a shiver down her spine, making her more impatient to have any skin-to-skin contact.

She goes for the checkered shirt, throwing it somewhere to find later on one of the seats. It gives her nothing. He’s wearing a black top underneath it. A curse escapes her mouth when she tries to pull the fabric out of his pants. It makes him laugh quietly. So desperate, so pretty and needy. All of this is his for now.

His hand grabs both of her wrists, stopping her trying to make him less covered. Slowly, with one hand, he undoes the belt with some ridiculously big buckle. Her, now almost all black, eyes following every move. When the metal hits the floor, she can see a glimpse of a bulge forming underneath the denim. Mentally she’s preparing herself for a ride like she never had before.

It comes faster than she suspected. In the limited space of the old truck, he manages to lay her down on the backseats. There’s no awkwardness or wobble in his actions. Such a little detail, but it makes her even more excited. He also has little trouble removing her pants which makes her a little embarrassed that she couldn’t deal with him earlier. Luckily she doesn't have a single moment to overthink this. Wet lips and the delicate pinch of his mustache are a perfect distraction.

The higher he gets the more she has to stop herself from hurrying him. The walk from the bar to the truck seemed long, it’s nothing compared to the trail he’s taking now. But he gets there, exactly where she wants him. Only now that he tears her underwear she feels like he’s desperate for her too.

There’s no hesitation in his actions. He practically dives into her pussy, drinking all that she’s unwittingly willing to give him. All of her just for him.

‘’Fuck, don’t stop!” every sentence that leaves her mouth makes him go faster. It’s a never-ending circle until she lets out a scream that someone in the bar for sure could have heard. Delicate kisses on her thighs are too much. But she has no strength to tell him to stop, the blissful explosion took over her body. Slowly she opens her eyes and it is then that she notices that all the windows are steamy.

They’re just looking at each other. Two strangers who’ve met just a few hours before, hypnotized by each other. She can’t stop herself and slowly starts moving towards him, building the anticipation. They finally touch again, her hand on his shoulder when she swings her leg over his lap.

Now, they’re exactly where they should have been. The promise made earlier is happening at that moment. They kiss and it’s slower than any kiss they’ve shared but it’s also more passionate. When lips touch slowly, soaking the moment, it doesn't feel like a one-time thing for any of them.

Once again he guides her hips, addicting her to the feeling she can’t take enough of. It feels perfect and at the same time not enough. She reaches between their bodies and within a moment she’s full of him. The truck is filled with sounds of their pleasure. Quiet moans that couldn’t be kept inside if they’ve tried. Kisses and breaths on the neck add to the addictive feeling. It’s slow, it’s intimate, it’s so much in the best way possible. Until he starts pumping into her faster. Somebody heard them for sure. Maybe steam has covered the windows but the sounds of their pleasure are too loud to hide. The world could be ending and they wouldn’t notice as they start to move together even faster.

She might be screaming at this point, but it doesn't matter. The hot coil growing in her is the only thing she cares about. He comes first, filling her with as much as he can. As his orgasm slowly dies he has a perfect view. Her body stretched right in front of him. Delicious breast bouncing as she chases her own pleasure. He still guides her and adds to it by kissing every inch of her skin he can. It doesn't take much. Few circles around her nipple and she’s screaming even louder.

There’s not a lot of space but somehow with the explosion inside of her, she’s afraid to fall. She holds to his broad shoulder for her life as she slowly gains consciousness.

They sit body to body as their breaths return to normal pace. Once again their stares connect and there’s that unspoken agreement that this wasn't the last time they’ve seen each other.