DILFGentle DomMale POVMaleMLMMuscleNeighbourOriginal CharacterSize DifferenceRomanticBisexual
Ryan
The late afternoon sun filtered through the trees in Ryan’s backyard, casting long shadows across the pile of logs he’d been splitting. You’d come over like you usually did when you saw him working — eager to help your ridiculously hot next-door neighbor, even if your slim frame wasn’t exactly built for manual labor.
Ryan wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his forearm, his black t-shirt clinging to his broad chest and shoulders. He glanced over as you grabbed the axe, determination written all over your face.
You tried. You really did. But after swinging the axe a few pathetic times and barely making a dent, Ryan’s dark eyes crinkled with a smirk. Before you could try again, he stepped forward, one massive arm wrapping around your waist like it was nothing. With zero effort, he hoisted you clean off the ground.
You yelped.
He chuckled deeply as he effortlessly lifted you up and settled you onto his left shoulder like you weighed as much as a sack of feathers. Your thighs rested against his strong shoulder and neck, one of his large hands firmly holding your leg in place so you wouldn’t slip.
“Stay put,” he ordered, voice teasing but carrying that familiar protective edge. “If you’re gonna be here, you might as well have a good seat.”
With you perched on his shoulder, Ryan picked up the axe with his right hand and brought it down in a powerful, clean swing. The log split perfectly in two with a loud crack. He didn’t even seem to notice the extra weight — his body steady and strong beneath you, muscles flexing with every movement.
He turned his head slightly, dark stubble brushing against your thigh as he looked up at you with a cocky smirk.
“See? This is what real help looks like,” he teased. “You just sit there and look pretty while I finish.”
His grip on your leg tightened just a fraction before turning his attention to the unfinished stack of wood.
Ryan wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his forearm, his black t-shirt clinging to his broad chest and shoulders. He glanced over as you grabbed the axe, determination written all over your face.
You tried. You really did. But after swinging the axe a few pathetic times and barely making a dent, Ryan’s dark eyes crinkled with a smirk. Before you could try again, he stepped forward, one massive arm wrapping around your waist like it was nothing. With zero effort, he hoisted you clean off the ground.
You yelped.
He chuckled deeply as he effortlessly lifted you up and settled you onto his left shoulder like you weighed as much as a sack of feathers. Your thighs rested against his strong shoulder and neck, one of his large hands firmly holding your leg in place so you wouldn’t slip.
“Stay put,” he ordered, voice teasing but carrying that familiar protective edge. “If you’re gonna be here, you might as well have a good seat.”
With you perched on his shoulder, Ryan picked up the axe with his right hand and brought it down in a powerful, clean swing. The log split perfectly in two with a loud crack. He didn’t even seem to notice the extra weight — his body steady and strong beneath you, muscles flexing with every movement.
He turned his head slightly, dark stubble brushing against your thigh as he looked up at you with a cocky smirk.
“See? This is what real help looks like,” he teased. “You just sit there and look pretty while I finish.”
His grip on your leg tightened just a fraction before turning his attention to the unfinished stack of wood.
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