#and was covered in wet cat food

[bugsludge]

So like what do you do if you possibly have a 3 day old concussion but refuse to go to the doctor… asking for a friend

[delphi-dreamin]

Sometimes I feel bad about myself. But then I remember that I am the kind of person who saves animals from the floor of Walmart and I feel better.

[littleeyesofpallas]

Meshi Numa.[めしぬま。]

[lindsaymendzs]

having to use your parents' kitchen has to be one of the circles of hell

[logaenhowlett]

SOMETHING HAPPENS AND I'M HEAD OVER HEELS - L.H.

Summary: What starts off as a simple favour to watch Laura’s cat sends Logan into a spiral as you continue to make your way into his life.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Pure fluff - Logan is 100% whipped, Wade

A/N: 4.4k - my longest fic yet! Worst!Logan has my entire soul, I'd give anything just for that pretty smile. Title creds to Tears For Fears. Enjoy!

MASTERLIST

The familiar burn of whiskey stings the back of his throat. Logan rests his head against the couch, second-guessing his decision to babysit Laura's cat while she's enjoying her night out. Her tireless attempts of pestering him at last working in her favour so he can finally meet his 'copy-kitten' - her words.

A quick glance at the time reveals he should probably head out now. Logan rises, groaning as his muscles protest after weeks of just slumping around the apartment. Even Al had pointed out how lazy he'd become lately. And that unsolicited observation gave him half the mind to consider finding new roommates. But who was he kidding? As much as he also barely tolerated that one incredibly maddening little prick's incessant jibber-jabber, he wasn't going to find anything for what he's currently paying.

Soon enough, he weaves his way through the crowds, swerving past the shoulders of, frankly, one too many people absorbed by their devices to step aside for his large frame. Luckily, Laura's place isn't too far and he really appreciates that detail as the sound of thunder rumbles overhead. A faint ding emerges from his pocket and he retrieves his phone, reading the screen with a slight squint.

His boots soak the welcome mat as he fumbles with the door trim, locating the key according to Laura's text - making a mental note to remind her of personal safety later. Shivering, he shrugs the wet jacket off, tossing it over the armchair. His eyes dart around the room, looking for the damn cat, and for a moment, Logan wonders whether he's being pranked.

The pitter-patter of paws against the hardwood floor has him snapping his head to the little creature in question. The cat, or Leopold Alexis Elijah Walker Thomas Gareth Mountbatten - Leo, for short - he learns begrudgingly after Wade shoved pictures upon pictures to his face one particular day, stares at him with indifference.

Understanding the need to be left alone, Logan trudges towards the kitchen, swinging the fridge open. A small post-it stuck over a box of leftovers, reads "Knew you'd be hungry", has him scoffing, mildly amused that Laura had predicted his actions.

Minutes later, he sinks onto the couch, making brief eye contact with Leo, who's nonchalantly licking his paws. He's halfway through the bowl of pasta when the cat suddenly leaps onto the cushion next to him. Logan watches curiously, he's not terribly experienced around pets, hardly spending any time with Mary Puppins herself despite living under the same roof.

"Alright, here's the deal." He murmurs, "You stay outta my way and I stay outta yours."

Leo replies with a meow to which Logan nods, satisfied by the response. He hopes to god this cat has the same temperament as Dogpool and allows him to simply coexist till Laura returns. Intrigued by the smell, Leo slowly inches forward, gently nudging his head against the bowl.

"Don't think you can eat this, bub."

Leo seems to understand the implication and meows in defiance. With a sigh, Logan gingerly flexes his hand, stroking the cat's head. The act immediately has Leo purring in content, the desire to investigate the food long forgotten. And no one's there to witness the ghost of a smile that teases his lips.

The calm attitude only lasts an hour before Logan's biting back a string of profanities, frustrated by Leo's refusal to take his medication. He's thankful for his healing factor, for otherwise, he'd be covered in a litter of scars. How the hell Laura deals with this devil-of-a-cat is beyond comprehension.

There's no use in trying again. Leo clearly wants nothing to do with him or what he's hiding in his hand. The thought of seeking help crosses his mind, perhaps one of the neighbours is especially skilled in feeding pills to literal hellspawns. Logan tunes his hearing to the apartments on the floor. Old lady already asleep to her TV - no. A family of six attempting to eat dinner in peace - no. Two people about to - fuck no. Now he really wants a word with Laura about her living situation.

Just when he's about to give up, a recognisable melody reaches his ears - one he's unwilling heard Wade jam out to in the shower. This person swaying along to music seems far more approachable than anyone else in this building, and so he steps out, knocking on the apartment across from Laura's.

The door cracks open slightly, you peek your head out giving him a questioning look, “Um… hi? Can I help you?”

“Hey, sorry to bother you. But, uh… I’m watching Laura’s - your neighbour’s cat.” Embarrassment creeps into his cheeks as he points behind him, “He’s not takin’ his meds and uh do you… can you help me? Please?”

The look of absolute defeat paired with the remnants of red scratch marks on his arms has your heart clenching for this poor man, “Of course.”

When the door fully opens, Logan’s eyes widen reflexively at the state of your undress. There’s nothing evocative about it, yet he feels as though he’s intruding on an intimate side of you. One he’s definitely not privy to.

Your sheepish smile sends a wave of something indescribable through his body. He clears his throat, turning on his heel to lead you inside. Leo flicks his head up at the sound of footsteps, purring as if he hasn’t been driving Logan insane for the past hour.

You knew Laura had rescued the little guy a while ago, having run into her in the hallway the night she brought him home. Every interaction you’ve had presents him as the sweetest kitten in the world, so watching the distinct mark of dread on this stranger’s face has you stifling a laugh.

“What?” Logan asks, feeling a little self-conscious about the whole situation.

“Nothing. It’s just - Leo’s very friendly. Or at least, I thought so… what the hell did you do to piss him off?” You chuckle, kneeling a foot away.

“Piss him off? I was just tryin’ to give him the damn pills. Had no problem with me before that.” Logan’s fingers twitch as you approach the cat, wanting to protect you from the sharp claws the demon would surely attack you with.

Yet, to his astonishment, Leo innocently crawls into your outstretched arms. And Logan swears he saw a flicker of mockery come across the cat’s eyes as he peers at him, relishing your comforting embrace.

“See? He’s a sweetheart.”

The fondness in your tone almost has him believing your words. In no time, Leo’s fully cooperating with your gentle requests, happily taking the medication as if it’s the tastiest thing in the world.

Logan learns three things that night. One, your name. Two, that you have some innate ability to charm everyone around you - human or otherwise. Three, he absolutely couldn’t wait to see you again.

Logan tries to drain out the shouting match between his two roommates, ducking calmly as Al’s miscalculated spatula throw flies in his direction. Laura giggles next to him, entertained by the whole ordeal - Wade had accidentally left his cock ring plugged in the bathroom again, nearly short-circuiting the apartment.

“Hey! Kink shaming is very frowned upon, Althea.”

“You motherfucker! I almost got electrocuted by the toaster this morning!”

Logan grumbles to himself, knowing there’ll never be a quiet, normal day in this household. He turns to Laura, “Kid, you wanna grab some food later?”

“Can’t. I’m going out.”

He nods, not giving it a second thought. But as the memory of you flashes across his mind, he stops bouncing his leg, heart beating a little faster. It had been a whopping seven days since that interaction, yet every little detail has stuck with him since. In fact, he spent many hours pacing in his room planning some way to magically run into you.

“… What about the cat?” He asks, and when she raises her eyebrow, “Who’s watchin’ him?”

She replies with a shrug, “I’ll figure it out.”

The solution to his problem falls perfectly onto his lap. Oh, how his pulse quickens at the thought. And as if to not seem suspiciously enthusiastic, he pauses before speaking, “I can do it.” 

“Why?”

“Better than this shit.”

Laura considers him for a moment then agrees casually - she knows exactly why he offered. You had bumped into her a couple of days ago, offhandedly mentioning meeting Logan that night as you recounted the details of your week. It took mere seconds to put two and two together and realise he was incredibly smitten.

Logan spends a good fifteen minutes messing with his hair. Fuck, did it always spike up like that? The one tiny mirror in his room supposedly taunting him with each look over. A low tsk breaks the flood of self-criticism as he slams the door shut behind him, roughly brushing past Wade.

"Ooh, is that cologne I smell or are you just horny to see me?"

His teasing spirit immediately drops when Logan shoots him a glare, precisely throwing Al's spatula straight at his crotch.

"God - not the home office, peanut! Jim and Pam need protection!"

The walk to Laura's seems a lot shorter this time, some sort of nervous, giddy energy surging through his chest with each step. Logan bites the insides of his cheeks, feeling childish by the stupid smile daring to grace his lips just at the sheer thought of you. He can't remember the last time someone had drawn these kind of emotions from him. A part of him wants to cower in fear of rejection and self-doubt, and other? Oh, it's got your name written all over.

As soon as he reaches the hallway, all his senses are directed to your apartment. Confused by the silence he finds instead, Logan strains his hearing harder than ever. Hm, it's barely seven-thirty, maybe you're not home yet? Disappointment twirls around his mind, he sighs before opening Laura's door, convincing himself it's probably for the better.

To his surprise, Leo behaves quite well this time around - eating his food, taking his medication, and sticking with minimal efforts to annoy him. The black and white movie he randomly chose keeps his thoughts from drifting to you for the most part, though he can't help but wonder where you are at - he checks his watch - 10:38 pm on a Thursday?

Whatever hope he held onto paints him a fool as time slips by. He couldn't blame you, you didn't owe him anything. Logan runs a hand down his face, and despite his wavering relationship with Leo, he's at least grateful for the cat's company on this rather lonely night.

"Was a dumb idea, huh?" He mumbles, gently scratching Leo's ear.

Not ten minutes later, the jingle of something hitting the floor has him sitting up, intrigued. Logan pads over to look through the peephole, his heart fluttering at the sight of you. It doesn't take a genius to note your drunken state with the way you're cursing and fumbling with the keys. His hand rests against the doorknob, a flash of hesitation creeping in. Do you even want to see him right now?

Before he can psych himself out, his instincts make the decision for him. Logan's unsure of how to announce his presence, wanting to avoid any chances of scaring you. In hindsight, that task should’ve been deemed impossible when you flinch suddenly anyway.

"Logan! Shit - did I wake you up?"

He chuckles at that and before he can even respond, you fire off another question, "Wait, what're you doing here?"

"Laura's out. I'm on babysitting duty." Leo purrs from somewhere behind him in confirmation. Logan watches as you nod slowly, the keys once again sliding from your grasp, "Here, let me help you."

The two of you reach down, fingertips barely grazing as he reacts faster than you. He realises he's much closer than he anticipated when your perfume crowds his senses. Logan buries the urge to meet your eyes deep, deep down, instead unlocking the door with a clenched jaw.

He's very appreciative of the fact that you're too out of it to observe his actions. He wanders into the kitchen to fetch some water, a laugh nearly spilling out of him as you collapse onto the couch, "Hey, easy."

"I'm not that drunk."

"I believe you." He lifts the glass to your lips, words ever so soft, "But... how about we get you to bed hm? Doesn't that sound better than this couch?" When you blink at him tiredly, Logan knows it's so over for him - every shred of denial he held within now shattered by your very hands.

"Okay... "

He maintains some distance, assuming you'd stubbornly dismiss his attempts to guide you to the bedroom. Leaning by the doorframe, he doesn't try to hide the fondness in his expression as you settle under the covers.

"Night, Logan."

He hears you murmur beneath the blanket. It's almost natural how quickly he replies as if you've had this exchange hundreds of times before, "Good night, sweetheart."

A groan leaves you as the sunlight eventually breaches the comfort of your dark room. Rubbing your eyes, you blindly reach for the bedside table, hoping to find your phone. Instead, your hand retrieves a piece of paper while knocking over a bottle of Advil that definitely wasn't there earlier.

'Not that drunk' my ass. - L

The party hat lays tilted on his head. Logan hooks his finger onto the string, momentarily stopping it from cutting into his chin. On any other occasion, he wouldn't have been caught dead wearing the stupid thing, but it was Laura's birthday and once she pulled out the dangerous puppy eyes, there was no way he could refuse without being an asshole.

He's been leaning against the wall, thumb lightly tracing the rim of the beer bottle in his hand as he blankly stares around the room. Throughout the night, Logan's eyes impulsively shift in your direction, tuning into the conversations you're having with - what feels like - everyone but him.

Mary Puppins zooms by, stepping on his boots in the process. She must've caught a whiff of whatever Al's cooking. He bends down to pick up the stuffed Wolverine chew toy she dropped along the way, mildly concerned by the amount of slobber coating it.

"Nice hat."

Logan hears you chuckle behind him. He quickly turns around, tossing the toy somewhere far, far away before you could notice. And despite wishing all night for the opportunity to talk to you, he finds himself tongue-tied now that you're actually in front of him, awaiting his response with an amused expression. Get it together, dumbass.

"This thing? Well... it made the kid happy." He says, incapable of suppressing the smile that never fails to make an appearance whenever you're around.

The way your features soften releases a storm of arrows to his poor, old heart. Whatever anxiety he felt earlier increases tenfold, Logan takes a swig of his drink only to realise it's empty. With nothing to divert his energy to, he grips the bottle tighter, hoping the integrity of the glass is enough to withstand the force of his nerves.

"Thank you, by the way."

His eyebrows raise in confusion, "For what?"

"Few weeks ago. When I got home totally wasted." As your cheeks turn a little red at the memory, Logan wants to relive that moment over and over again.

"Oh... yeah." He huffs lightly, gaining a smidge of confidence from your flustered state. It gives him just enough courage to throw in a cheeky comment, "At your service."

He's mighty pleased when you giggle, biting his lip to control the proud smile aching to take over. Logan studies you briefly, and if he didn't know any better, you almost seemed nervous too? That possibility sends his mind reeling in excitement. Perhaps you also feel something here?

The shrieking sound of a party blower has him wincing, the plastic hits his cheek as Wade sneaks up right next to him with a wide grin, "Sugar bear! Don't mind me, I overheard you tell Yukio about your date tomorrow. Now, spill. Who is this mystery man and does he have a twin by any chance? Brother or sister - daddy's not picky."

Logan's initial reaction to harshly shove the man aside dies in an instant when you laugh rather bashfully at the question. He prays to god it's another one of Wade's fucking jokes. However, that hope flies out the window as you hesitantly ramble on about this guy. Excusing himself, he leaves the apartment, ripping the party hat off in agony - not witnessing the guilt eclipsing your emotions.

Droplets of sweat linger at the ends of his hair as he places the last of Laura's cardboard boxes on the floor of her new apartment. After weeks of mulling it over, she decided to move a little further away, complaining about how rent was becoming too crazy. Logan offered to support her financially till she was good on her own, yet she strongly refused just as he expected.

Since she was no longer your neighbour, the chances of running into you dwindled over time. He saw you in passing last month when he came over to help Laura with apartment hunting. The logical part of his brain convinced him to not stick around, desperately clinging to the idea that you're not interested. But catching your expression fall as he dismissed your presence nearly made him run back to wrangle you into his arms, to whisper apologies and beg for forgiveness.

After an especially tiring day, Logan returns home, crashing onto the couch with a sort of emptiness as he stares at the ceiling. Both his roommates are muttering in the corner, afraid to call out his incredibly irritable mood of late - instead, walking on eggshells whenever he's around. It seems that Wade loses the hushed argument, settling a good arm's length away from him.

"Peanut." He drags, slowly, "Al and I are... worried about you. As much as this brooding, tough guy act is really doing wonders for my sexual wellbeing, I just can't let you Debbie-Down-Pour all over this parade."

"The fuck you want me to do?"

"You need a one-way ticket to pound town-" He chirps, and when Logan grunts angrily, Wade shrieks, shielding himself from any incoming attacks, "Don't hurt me!"

The aroma of coffee tingles his senses as he takes an exaggerated sip, ignoring the need to continue such an aimless, one-sided conversation. Across the table is one of Vanessa's acquaintances, Karen or Kira - he can't remember - mindlessly explaining why her previous dates didn't work out. Logan forces a nod here and there, humming in pretend acknowledgement while he concocts some plan to seriously bash Wade's head against the nearest wall.

In all honesty, he didn't know how the hell that bastard persuaded him to entertain this woman for the night, making a note to check his alcohol for any suspicious substances later. What he did know was that this was going as terribly as he thought. And while he might be awfully rusty in terms of dating, Logan's certainly not oblivious to basic body language cues. Deciding twenty minutes of this torture is enough, she hastily rushes out the building and that's the last of Karen he ever sees.

The grocery bags feel like cinder blocks in your hands as you walk down the street. Mentally scolding yourself for postponing this chore till the last minute, you huff in exhaustion, adjusting your grip every few seconds. A woman nearly bumps into you on her way out, you stagger backwards, watching her storm off. Startled by her rashness, you turn to glance at where she came from, gasping when you spot a familiar face.

“Logan?”

He snaps up, recognising that particular voice - your name leaves his lips softly. Mixed emotions swirl around his mind, yet, he can't help the way his heart jumps as you fill his senses, “Wha - what’re you doin' here?”

“I was just passing by... saw you through the window.” Your gaze drops to the half-finished cup of coffee opposite him, “Were you on a date?”

“Uh Wade - he...” Logan stutters for a moment, dumbfounded that you're even talking to him after his childish behaviour the last few weeks. He nods lightly as the unmistakable bullet of regret pierces his insides.

“It’s her loss anyway.”

God, he wants to apologise so badly. Your friendly attitude only serves to make him feel worse, but Logan thanks his lucky stars that you don't hate him. He definitely wouldn't have been able to handle any sign of resentment on your part - no matter how much he deserves it.

“What’s with the eggs?”

You laugh, looking down at the several cartons peeking through your bags, “I’m stress-baking.”

He's so lost in your eyes that it takes him a second to register your reply, nose scrunching in amusement, “Stress-baking?”

“Yes, it’s a perfectly valid activity.”

That draws a chuckle out of him. He raises his hands in defense, “I ain’t judgin’, doll.”

A comfortable silence takes over and Logan realises just how happy he is to see you again - how much he's missed you all this time. He opens his mouth to spill something out of pure impulse when you beat him to the punch.

“Why don’t you join me?”

It doesn't take much convincing and he's already fallen into a steady pace as you walk together - his fingers effortlessly hooking onto all the grocery bags. His chest threatens to explode when you lean towards him, moving aside for people brushing by. Logan wills his entire strength to not drape his arm across your shoulders in an effort to keep you safe.

Time becomes irrelevant when you're around. The frequency of his own laughter shocks him at first, but he's not really thrown off by the joy you bring out of him because - well, of course, you do. It's safe to say that Logan can't bake to save his life, though he doesn't mind this particular weakness as you giggle at his dreadful attempts to mix the cookie dough. Shamelessly, he watches you come closer, breaking into a tangent about proper kneading techniques - if you ask him to repeat any of it, he'd be stumbling over his words like a fool.

Eventually, he makes something that somewhat resembles your example. He dips his finger into the dough and lifts a small piece in your direction, "How's this?"

When you gently grasp his hand to lick the sweet mixture straight off, he thinks he's trapped in some wild daydream. Logan stares at you in surprise, cheeks turning into a telltale shade of red. Your hums of approval fall onto deaf ears as he remains frozen, wondering how you're so quick to move on from that bold gesture.

Every little thing you do stains his mind - from the way you dance around to soft music playing in the background, the way you focus all your attention on him whenever he speaks, even the way you warn him about the oven as if he could get burned.

His expression must've turned serious by how you suddenly pause, peering at him in concern. Bearing a rush of emotions, the words pour out of his mouth without hesitation, "I am so sorry."

"I was an idiot and I... avoided you 'cause I couldn't deal with these damn feelings-"

He stops.

He's revealed way too much. And judging by your face, that was definitely a mistake. Logan shuts his mouth, jaw hardening as he fights something heavy crawling up his throat. His eyes land on the door and all he wants is to escape from this shrinking room.

A whisper of his name fractures the glass cage he's built up around his heart. His boots seem to be cemented to the floor, unwilling to break free even as you still in front of him - a mere breath away. Your hands rest against his cheeks, slowly turning his head so he's compelled to meet your tender gaze.

Not a single sound slips out of him before your lips are on his. His heart pounds in his chest, burning at sensation. Logan leans into the kiss, hands settling on your waist, holding you as close as he can. Relief washes over him, he tilts his head slightly to deepen his movements - his breath nearly giving out when you whimper softly.

The loud ding from the oven has you pulling back with a faint chuckle. Logan smiles too, letting out a sigh as he lays his forehead against your shoulder. He presses his lips to your collarbone, whispering against your skin, "Does that mean what I think it means?"

"The cookies... or us?"

He gently pokes your side at that comment, mirroring your dazed look. Between the quiet exchanges of laughter, he knows exactly what this means - what you mean to each other.

His muscles feel looser with each stride, embracing the breeze tangling with the warmth pooling inside from your touch moments ago. Logan makes his way home with a kind of ease he hasn't felt in forever, chewing on a cookie you insisted he taste.

As he walks through the door, Wade rests his chin on his hands, “So… how did it go? I see you’re enjoying the post-bang baked goods.”

Logan rolls his eyes, not wanting his mood to be spoiled. He grumbles under his breath, your name accidentally slipping out.

"You ran into angel-reincarnate?" Wade gasps, "Oh. Finally putting that horse cock to good use." Clapping excitedly, he follows after Logan, "Wait a second, this fic is tagged fluff. There'll be no fucking on my watch, partner!"

Logan slams the door to his bedroom behind him, blocking out Wade's muffled chattering.

"She had you cosplay as Paul Hollywood all night? Goodness! The power she possesses. I must gain all her secrets."

"Fuck off."

Wade grins to himself, quickly pulling his phone out to shoot off a text.

Wade: Project-Wolvie-Gets-Pussy is a go!

Laura: We are NOT calling it that.

[c-rowlesdraws]

she got breakfast

Oog someone wants breakfast (she’s chewing on my phone now)

[hotvintagepoll]

Hello! Do you have a favorite winter recipe? I'm looking to expand my repertoire, because I've only lived in a climate that snows for a couple years, and I don't have enough cozy, bone warming foods!

PS - I keep having to feed my cat pumpkin puree because he has some tummy troubles but he will only eat it if I gently hand feed him with a spoon. Just thought you might enjoy that.

YES HERE IS JOYOUS SOUP

(i have never actually called it joyous soup but it's what i feel everytime i make it and i feel like everyone should make it)

This soup does not have a proper recipe because uhh, my mom is bad with recipes but ALSO this soup truly adapts to whatever you have in your fridge, as long as you have 1) some kind of oil or butter to sautee things with and 2) potatoes. this is the sam gamgee make-it-on-the-side-of-a-mountain-winter soup.

Step 1. Take your potatoes—6 is the ideal but 4 works—and chop them up rough. "What kind of potatoes?" Whatever they have on the side of the mountain, Sam. You now have a bunch of 1" potato chunks or discs (I like discs). I assumed you washed them first but if you forgot you can wash them now.

Step 2. Get your oil or butter sizzling. I use about two tablespoons of butter to start and add more as I go if the potatoes don't look fully covered. I am probably cooking the butter on medium.

Step 3. You're putting the potatoes in the butter. You're pretending to fry them. Watch them get all buttery and golden and a little brown and crispy. You're thinking, man, I could eat these as they are right now. You could do that. Don't. Add garlic and onions if you have them. Add lots.

Step 4. Just as you're like oh MAN these potatoes and garlic and onions look really good fried just like this, you're going to swamp them in water. You're going to stare at what you've done and thought you made a mistake. You have not. The water should just be covering the potatoes and now you've turned the water up to high, staring at your weird sad soup pot, that smells deliciously of butter garlic onions and potatoes.

Step 5. In another saucepan, you are melting more butter (or oil, or what have you) and figuring out what else you have in your cupboard. Carrots? Those can go in. Parsnips could too. Spinach works nicely. Any onions or garlic you forgot can be added again now. Mushrooms are fucking fabulous. Leeks? Sublime. The only veg you should be avoiding are the ones that are secretly fruits (no watery tomatoes or squishy cucumbers) or the ones that you think are insipid (celery).

Step 6. You're chopping all of that up as much as you like and browning it up in the butter. You're also adding whatever spices strike your fancy. I love salt, so that's always going in, but I usually add black pepper and cayenne, and then I get fruity with it and start adding in paprikas and cumins and turmerics or corianders and thymes and basils and parsleys. It all depends on what smells right to you combined with the steams you're making, and how much spice you want kicking you later.

Step 7. How are your boiled potatoes looking? Are they soft yet? Good. Can you stick a fork in them yet, and has the water boiled down to almost nothing? Excellent. How are all your buttery brown vegetables looking? If you want to give up the whole experiment and eat them right out of the pan, it's time to make another mistake and add all your gorgeous browned vegetables to your disastrous wet potato pot.

Step 8. You now have a lot of delicious stuff looking wet and sad in your potato pot. Pour in a bit more water (or veg broth, or stock if you have it) and stir that all up. Let it stew together a bit and combine flavors. Turn it back down to medium so you don’t scorch any of your nice wet veg things. If you're fancy like my mom, you get out an immersion blender here. If you're broke and possess your grandmother's food processor, like me, you're pouring that all into the food processor with the biggest blade you have and turning it into a smoothie. If your concoction seems oddly chunky you need to add more water.

Step 9. Wet sad potato smoothie is not much to look at but now you're adding CREAM. and CHEESE. and MORE SPICES TO YOUR TASTE. If you don't have cream MILK WORKS FINE. If you don't have cheese THAT IS OKAY. If you like your soup with chunks LEAVE OUT SOME OF YOUR VEG NEXT TIME and ADD IT IN HERE. At this point, you have a gorgeous creamy soup that's soft and luscious (that's the potatoes), includes all your favorite veg (that's everything you got out of the fridge), and can go in any number of taste directions depending on what spices you put in (I've made this with Indian spices, English herb garden spices, Mexican spices, Hungarian spices—every time it's delicious and works a different way).

Step 10. I hope you have a lot of bread because you're going to be dipping it in your soup saying :) man this is a nice soup :) and knowing you can make it whenever you have weird leftovers, as long as you have potatoes and butter. and what else does a person need in life than potatoes and butter?

enjoy your joyous soup <3 i may have forgotten several steps but as long as you follow -brown some veg -add water -add spice -blend the shit out of it, you can never really go wrong <3

[octopiys]

Lost and Found

I. roll call and rainy nights

Next

Maybe Simon doesn't have any kids. Not yet at least. Maybe he doesn't know anyone we'll enough, or maybe he's not sure if he wants them in the first place.

But I'll tell you what.

Every time he goes on leave, without fail, he has an army of critters showing up to his house in the country. He never turns anything out to the streets, or to the cold night. The bottom of his pantry is stock full of dog and cat food. He's got three bird feeders in his back yard. There's four refillable water bowls by his garage.

The raccoons show up first without fail. They're named One and Deux, and they just recently had a baby named Tres. Hes pretty sure they live on his roof. He checked his cameras one night, after a long mission, and found them holding up Tres to the camera.

He didn't cry about that, what are you talking about?

Then the dogs show up. They're all mutts of varying sizes. One looks like some sort of lab, named Dog. Another is about the size of a pomeranian, but looks like a shaggy chihuahua. That's Barrow. He found her in his garden shed. She's got a mean bite, but a sweet face. The third is a big dog, almost the size of a Dane, but... not. He's not very smart. He's named barkmulch. Get it, cus- cus he barks- the fourth has gone unnamed. It's a furry little white thing, and it yaps at him a lot, nipping at his ankles anytime he enters the room. Behave, and it'll get a name.

There are a few cats that show up too. None of them have names except for one: Scraggle.

Scraggle is the ugliest fucking thing you can imagine. Scraggle is that shade of grey that white cats get when they're dirty, except you can't wash it off. The poor cat is missing patches of fur, and it seems permanent. It only has one eye. It's nose is flat, and gives it's face the illusion of a squished tomato. There's a scar going from it's whiskers, across it's nose and up to it's missing eye. Simon doesn't actually know what gender this cat is. It is only Scraggle.

Scraggle is also... very stupid, as far as cats go. It gets squished between the couch cushions, and yowls when Simon accidentally sits on him. How could he have seen him anyways? Scraggle screams when his food bowl is empty. Scraggle screams when everyone else's food bowls are empty. Scraggle screams when it manages to find it's way on top of the kitchen cabinets, and needs Simon's help to get down. Scraggle is a full time job when he's off duty.

Scraggle is his favorite.

He finds you in the rain.

Not nearly as run down as the rest of his animals, but just as lost.

Covered in scratches, blood, and muck, he finds you on the edge of his property, being screamed at by Scraggle, because it doesn't do much else.

Your clothes are torn, and you look a bit more haggard than you should. Wet, and cold, and hungry. Like you had missed a turn off the trails, or you were running away from them. From something.

You look up at him with wide eyes, but decide to trust him, to follow him like a lost creature, because he could not be worse than what you escaped from.

He makes soup. He gives you soup.

He's not the best conversationalist. He's not used to things he finds actually talking back to him in a language he can understand.

You tell him your name. He calls you Honey. You'll earn your name. Behave, you'll get it.

Scraggle is on thin ice with you. Attention stealer. Food giver. You get the cat down from places it shouldn't be. But Simon pays more attention to you than he does Scraggle. You fool. Scraggle is all. Scraggle is life.

You don't leave, much like the other things he feeds. You make yourself useful, because you're afraid of being turned out. If you're useful, then nothing will happen. And you go to bed every night warm with a full belly.

You're just another lost thing he's taken in. You don't leave when he disappears. You know he'll come back. He always does.

And he watches the cameras, while he's on a mission. He watches you diligently fill the bowls, the bird feeders, the waters, the bath. You trot out to the fish pond, and throw handfuls of feed out in the early hours of the night. Then you make your way back through the tall grass, and into the house.

Scraggle screams. You feed it too, and then pick it up. And carry it around like it's a little baby.

Hm. Maybe....

You were a sweet like honey, a pretty little thing. You weren't lost anymore. He'd found you, you're his now.

He'll take care of you.

Scraggle agrees. Scraggle likes you too.

masterlist

[allpiesforourown]

sorry to send another thought about the cherry magic au so soon, but it’s literally consuming me with Thoughts.

bc Binghe would for real NEVER help his own situation. He’d be shoulder to shoulder with sy in the elevator thinking crazy shit like I want to eat Shen Yuan, consume him so there’s nothing left of him for the world to see. I want him to never exist in the mind of any other person. I want him to never work here again.

And while Binghe is meaning slightly problematic, attic-wife shit, all sy gets out of this is a stomach ulcer from anxiety and the frantic belief that his co-worker he thought was his friend is A CANNIBAL that wants him DEAD AND GONE.

DONT APOLOGIZE KEEP EM COMING!!

Binghe: I want to leave him covered in bite marks and bruises.... I'd love to see him crying under me...

Shen Yuan: I have to transfer out of this department NOW my LIFE is in danger

I'm torn between "shen yuan would be confused because binghe doesn't have any thoughts like that about anyone else" or "whenever someone touches shen yuan, binghe has very angry thoughts he hides behind a tight smile, reinforcing the idea that binghe is hiding how dangerous he is"

Shen Yuan avoiding binghe, trying to get a different job and binghe is sobbing like a pathetic wet cat asking what he did wrong.. shen yuans going damn he's a good actor!!!

Also throwing Shang qinghua into the mix to get double the confusion

Qinghua: you think binghe hates you??? He's always making you food and following you around.. I'M the one who has to worry, mobei jun is always tripping me at work and shaking my hand so hard it hurts

Shen Yuan: ..that's because he likes you

Qinghua: dear God, you can't see binghe obviously pining after you but you see romance in my department head tormenting me!? There's something seriously wrong with you

(They're both stupid)

[phantomrose96]

Announcement takes the world by storm as top researchers discover new flavor humans can't taste. "We already knew about cats not tasting sweet and birds not tasting spicy, but we kinda thought humans had this all covered," one scientist said. "Turns out we're missing out BIG time."

"The dogs got it right. The dogs were totally right," another scientist said while pouting and stamping his feet a little, like he's upset. He described the flavor as "literally so fucking good" and "we can't even taste it."

Newly discovered flavor that's literally so fucking good which unevolved human pissbabies can't even taste is apparently available in abundance--not that we would know--and primarily concentrated in gross wet canned food, garbage with the lid left open, dirty socks, and suspicious mounds of not-mud that are easy to roll in.

"The dogs were literally right. And humans are literally the stupid idiots about this, actually," first author said in interview, while sounding mad about it.

[romanticatheartt]

I die for these soft, domestic moments...

I laughed in earnest, and squeezed his face as I pressed a swift kiss to his mouth. “Shameless flirt.” The warmth returned to his eyes at last. ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ I kissed his bare neck, and he reached back to drag a finger down my cheek. ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ Rhys came over and handed me a hairpin. We worked in unison, pinning my hair into place. Rhys pinned a hard-to-reach section of my hair. ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ He leaned down, nuzzling my throat. “Don’t you want to comfort your mate, who has missed you terribly these weeks?” I planted a hand on his face and pushed him back, scowling. “I want my mate to tell me where the hell he was. Then he can get his comfort.” Rhys nipped at my fingers, teeth snapping playfully. “Cruel, beautiful female.” ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ I studied the hand, the ravaged face. Such pain lingered there—and exhaustion. The face he never let anyone see. I pushed up onto my knees and kissed his cheek, his skin warm and soft beneath my mouth. ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ So I wrote back, At least you make up for your shameless flirting by being one hell of a High Lord. He’d returned that evening, smirking like a cat, and had merely said “One hell of a High Lord?” by way of greeting. I’d sent a bucket’s worth of water splashing into his face. Rhys hadn’t bothered to shield against it. And instead shook his wet hair like a dog, spraying me until I yelped and darted away. His laughter had chased me up the stairs. ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ A half smile that had me walking toward him, stopping between his legs. He braced his hands idly on my hips. He rested his brow against my chest, right between my breasts, and wrapped his arms around my waist. For a long minute, he only breathed in the scent of me, as if taking it deep into his lungs. ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ “You look exhausted, that’s why.” He put a dramatic hand over his heart. “Your concern warms me more than any winter fire, my love.” I rolled my eyes and sat up. “Did you at least eat?” He shrugged, his dark shirt straining across his broad shoulders. “I’m fine.” His gaze slid over my bare legs as I pushed back the covers. Heat bloomed in me, but I shoved my feet into slippers. “I’ll get you food.” “I don’t want—” “When did you last eat?” A sullen silence. “I thought so.” I hauled a fleece-lined robe around my shoulders... “You don’t need to—” “I want to, and I’m going to.”... “Did you eat at all today?” “I had an apple this morning.” “Rhys.” He set down his fork, his mouth twitching toward a smile. “Feyre.” I crossed my arms. “No one is too busy to eat.” “You’re fussing.” “It’s my job to fuss. And besides, you fuss plenty. Over far more trivial things.” ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ “You look beautiful tonight.” His words were low, rough. I stroked a hand down the lap of my gown, the fabric shimmering beneath my fingers. “You say that every night.” “And mean it.” ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ His fingers threaded through my hair, tilting my face up. That wicked smile grew, and my toes curled in their boots. “There’s my darling Feyre.”

[typewritersensuite]

𝐀 𝐖𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐠𝐨'𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐞

{♡Word Count: 1k+♡}

{♡Warnings: dubcon/monster fucking/pretty tame monster fucking/big ol' cock/size difference.♡}

╔══════════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══════════╗

♡At first it was small things you noticed: a small bird singing to you as you went grocery shopping, a strange dog always watching you in the distance when you were in the woods, a cat walking alongside you as you went home.

♡You didn't think much of it, just that animals were strange and that maybe you smelt like some kind of pet food. Which resulted in you throwing your perfume out and getting new ones.

♡But of course, the issues wasn't solved so you decided to live with it. Almost seeing yourself as an animal whisperer.

♡Then one day, a mangy, stray dog was sat on your doorstep and it gave you a big puppy dog eyed look and that was it. You took it in.

♡Little did you know what the trickster had in store for you...

═══════════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═══════════

♡Whenever you left though is when Luca (what you called you precious companion without knowing the monster that disguised itself beneath the fur.) went rampant.

♡He was finally in your space. Surrounded by your scent, your things, you. It was heavenly.

♡He would often revert back to his normal form, a seven foot tall monster with a pale white skull and large horns curving out. He was tall and muscular covered in hair and a cloak. A pair of bright red eyes peering from behind his animal skull.

♡His hulking form would walk around your house, taking in every aspect of you. Noting down what you like as he prepared to take you back home. His home.

♡But the best part was being able to wrap a pair of you cute and delicate panties around his thick and throbbing cock.

♡It was all he could do at the moment, wrapping you panties around his foreskin before pulling it down and smearing precum along the panty line. All while he huffed in your scent through your panties that sat on his strange face.

♡Every time left him feeling good, but it left him wanting more. Needing more. Needing your cute, tiny, little pussy wrapped around his big cock taking him and accepting him as your mate.

═══════════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═══════════

♡Soon, though, it began to get worse.

♡You noticed that your panties were soaked in strange substances, even some of your clothes. The worst was your pillow.

♡You didn't understand. Maybe it was Luca? But it couldn't be, he was a good dog. He sat and listened to everything you said. He would cuddle you and protect you. He was just a good dog.

♡Until he wasn't.

═══════════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═══════════

♡When you came home from work, you neighbor had warned you about seeing a ghost or a demon walking around your house. You simply shook them off and reassured them that it was fine. They were old and you just assumed it was there eyesight.

♡But when you entered your house, there, sat on your sofa, it was.

♡A hulking mass off horror with his legs spread and a large cock throbbing as his claw like hands moved up and down it in a fast rhythm.

♡But before you could scream out in terror or run away, he was on you. His form draped over your figure and his large cock between your thighs thrusting desperately.

♡"P...lease." Its' deep voice echoed out, almost like a rumble and you felt terrible for getting wet over the noise.

♡A sniffing noise sounds then, followed by a deep dark growl. "You want this too." It hisses.

♡And before you can deny it, it has your clothes torn off and you pinned to the floor. Its' skull buries between your thighs as a long tongue slithers out and immediately begins to feast on your dripping wet pussy.

♡As it laps eagerly at your drippy cunt, it grows. Its' claws digging into your thick doughy thighs. Its' red eyes shining with delight at your moans. "So...good...mate...like the...rivers of...heaven..." It coos out to you before its' tongue circles your clit, bullying it before you cum, making you arch your back and grab onto its' sturdy horns.

♡A deep growl leaves its' chest again as it climbs up your body, its' huge size making you seem tiny. And its' large cock looking almost impossible to fit inside you.

♡Before you could protest again, its' long tongue covered in your juices is down your throat, kissing you in the most lewd way as its' cock nudges in between your folds. And then with a harsh push of its' hips, its' cock fills you. Fully. Completely.

♡Your eyes roll back as a second orgasm wracks through your body just from the pure stretch of the monsters cock.

♡A whimper leaves its' throat at the feeling of your tiny pussy clenching, clinging to his cock.

♡It pulls its' tongue out of your throat, listening to your moans and whines. Instead now lapping at your neck, preparing to mark you as his forever.

♡You can't stop the babbles of desperation leave your voice as its' cock massages your walls so perfectly. It was so filling. So right. Every thrust tickling your g-spot and brushing against your cervix.

♡The smell of sex permeates the air as his heavy balls slap against your ass, his furry body almost draped over you and rubbing delightfully against your clit.

♡The fur on his thighs were dripping wet from your pussy and you could feel the knot untying in your stomach again.

♡This felt right. This creature... It felt like home. Like its' growls were singing praises on your name and its' movements were bringing you home.

♡You squeal as you cum on his dick again, and as a growl echoes through the room, you feel his cock twitch and spill his seed deep inside you.

♡An agonising pain is felt in your neck as it sinks its' teeth deep into your neck. Claiming you as his.

♡It lifts you up onto its' thighs, clinging to you. It sings praises and softly strokes your back being mindful of its' claws.

♡As you stay in your hazy state, the monster gently laps at the bite mark trying to ease your pain. But you see it. The connection between you two. The way you were written in the stars and how it had waited for you. Searched for you and found you.

♡You were finally home. And you were finally his.

╚══════════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══════════╝

[sethdomain]

have this epic fail scu tommy design. My take was trying to gave him the same aura as Knive from trigun have. Sort of like a white dove covered in blood type of vibe. But i htink he's too tommy for that.

If I can write my own Scu!Tommy, I would definitely make him an eldritch abomination and more body horror i guess(partly him doing it on other people) and he would be more uhhh terrifying then canon.. cuz canon he's a soappy wet cat lol. Also his backstory would be very different i guess...

His backstory would be the mad scientist(condi) doing illegal shit, he's batshit insane and on some shit and experiment on tom. Errr his motivation is that he want to create fucking uhh super-human, genetically engineered super-human. So he created Tom aka the patient zero. He's a test tube baby and uhh it goes wrong bla bla bla apocalypse happen. If its still the same as the scu video sorry i forgot half of it and i make up whatever happened in my brain lol.

why does the mad scientist do this? Because he's crazyyyyyyy and sillyyyy. No, he just have some sort of savior complex

scu!tommy were a child who's prone to be sickly, mostly because of his diet that consist of normal human food, while he himself does not have normal diet like most people does. He eats human.

the mad scientist doesn't know this because who the fuck would have that in mind. For now, the scientist tries to fulfill his nutritional deficiency through bags and needles(idk how it works im not a doctor) and feeding him normal human food, despite Tommy protest on how he cannot stomach it and make his stomach upset.

Also forgot to mention he still does experiment on him, but its still tame. standard stuff like, his intelligent, capabilities and substance that might be his weakness. Suffice to say, the result satisfied the scientist.

anyway im bored typing stuff i might continue my backstroy rewrite ramble and how i write 100 days scu in other post.

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝟱 𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗦𝗘𝗦, 𝗠𝗩𝟭 max verstappen x fem! reader (fluff) “. . . using his five senses, these are his favourite things about you.”

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests | taglist )

Sight

his blue eyes appreciate anything and everything you give him.

He already thinks of you as eye candy or an angel right from a rococo painting.

But what it does for him is seeing you do something you enjoy.

If you’re playing video games or playing with his cats.

He sometimes takes videos or photos secretly so he can watch later or just to open and randomly appreciate you when he’s travelling and misses you.

“They’re so pretty,” You giggled as you watched the dolphin swim around in its tank. Max was glad he was already filming your excitement because one of the mammals noticed you and was playing with you. Sliding right and left, Max knew he was going to set the video as his lock screen later if he doesn't record for over three minutes like he always does.

Touch

One of Max's favorite things ever is hugging you or holding you in any way.

It helps keep him grounded other than the fact that you’re warm and he loves having contact with you.

You’re one of the first people he hugs after a race, an anchor helping him return to the world.

You’re the first thing he reaches for when he wakes up in the morning or before going to sleep at night.

It’s also the reason it’s difficult for him to travel without you because you’re his safe person and his source of comfort.

“All we are missing now is-” You paused, lifting your eyes from the shopping list to the hand, trying to uncross your legs. You didn’t question it, sitting properly so the blond can gently hold your thigh as he wished. Max was driving with you in the passenger seat so he couldn’t really turn and see why you paused. “Schat, I can’t read your handwriting- but we need cat food.” Max nodded in agreement, his thumb gently caressing your thigh as he made a left turn.

Smell

One of Max’’s favourite things is when you put on lotion

It has a certain sweet stubble scent that’s quite calming

he considers it your signature scent. only yours.

he also likes it when he randomly smells you on his things, like his shirts or jackts, msybe his controller or his car. it makes him all giddy

He always tells you ‘that smells nice’ and other times he just holds your hand to take a whiff

“Did you put sunscreen on?” You ask as you make sure you packed everything you need. “I don’t need it.” He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence because you already squeezed a bit and started gently rubbing it on his face. Max rolls his eyes for a second before scrunching his nose. “The sun screen covers your lotion.” He complains disappointed, making you playfully shake your head.

Hearing

max adores hearing you calling him pet names,

whether it's something like love, sweetheart, maxie, baby, darling, sweets,

or something sweet in french; amore, mon core, mon cher,

It gets worse if you speak dutch. Liefje, honing, schat, schatje.

It makes his heart go ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum and his thoughts get all tangled up and mushy

"Maxie, Shatje," You call from somewhere far in the apartment, making the blond turn around instantly, his big blue eyes searching for you and your voice. He hopped out of his chair and abandoned his sim in favour of finding you. “Amour?” “Yea?” “Liefje, can you zip up this dress for me.” Oh you got him right in his excited heart.

Taste

Max is not a huge coffee or juice drinker. All he ever drinks or needs are in his protein shakes or his red bull fridge.

But if you’re making a smoothie or experimenting with coffee and offer him a sip for his opinion or to show him how good it turned out,

he takes it as an honor,

especially if he’s drinking it out of your hand.

“Woo!” is the first thing he hears from the kitchen a few seconds after the loud noise of the blender stops. He peeks his head out of the bathroom still wet from his shower when he hears your excited hops/sprinting to his direction. “Maxie!” You hold up the glass with the pinkish smoothie he can assume is strawberries and something else. “Try?” You offer, and Max doesn't hesitate to lean forward, taking a sip, his eyes lighting up at the taste of bananas and a hint of mandarin. “That’s too good, I’m keeping this,” He teases, gently taking the glass from your hands, continuing to drink the smoothie while you follow the half-naked dutch in protest.

[babygorewhore]

Unholy Contrition

Rafe Cameron immediately wrote you off as some Bible thumping prude. And when his father died and left the entire fortune to him, he absentmindedly chose your father, A preacher, to speak at the funeral. But he catches something about you that reminds him of his favorite Porn Star. And he decides he’s going to corrupt you. What he doesn’t know is…you’re not as innocent as you act.

Okay guys the horny demon got me and I once again had to write about cocaine daddy because I’m addicted to him. Thank you so much to @xxhellfirebunnyxx for helping me with this and beta reading. I love you dolly.

Word count 5K!

Moodboard

Warnings! Talk of religion (duh) reader is a porn star, masks, masterbation, slight cat and mouse, choking, degrading, oral, unprotected sex! Virgin reader! Daddy kink! Kinda perv reader tbh but same. Slight breeding kink. And barely proof read I apologize.

Disclaimer: female in photos just for aesthetic purposes!!

When Rafe first saw her, it was at the annual outdoor movie where the pouges and Kooks got together. The pouges served food and drinks while he and his family sat comfortably in the front row. Topper, Kelce and himself watched JJ and Pope after their encounter. He thought they knew better than to fuck around with him and his friends. But he’d have to teach them. Burn it into their brains.

He was Rafe fucking Cameron. And they would learn their god damn place.

“Watch them.” He told Kelce and he got up. Kiera was getting a drink and this was an opportunity to assert his intent.

“Tell your boy, we know what he did.” His warning did nothing to sway her loyalty as she walked away. He smirked and then it fell when a girl was walking up to the line. It was the Preachers daughter.

He towered over her like most people but what caught his attention was the high neck shirt, covered thighs and worse. A cross on her neck and a wrap around cross bracelet around her hand. Her hair was in pig tail braids. She had doe eyes and bitten pink lips.

And she was carrying a fucking Bible. Which was a shame. She was pretty. Beautiful even. But he hated the church.

“Excuse me,” She whispered and moved past him. He had an urge to snatch it out of her hands and throw it. But he had more important things to do.

“Yeah; go ahead Jesus freak.” He hissed, bending down to say it to her ear. Her eyes widened and her brows pulled together.

“I-“

But he walked off. He wasn’t going to waste him time when he had two pouges asses to kick.

Your dad gave funeral talks all the time but now you were weirdly excited to go. Not that you were excited about Ward’s death but more about who’s attending. Rafe Cameron would be there and you actually thanked god for it. It wasn’t that you didn’t have your own belief system but the entire restriction? Fuck no.

But for the sake of your poor older father, you kept up the good girl facade. It was easy really. Keep everything simple, light pastel clothes while hiding what was underneath. Your nickname was Kitty from the cat ear beanie you had since you were a teenager. But your dad had a variety of nicknames for you.

All of them were gentle. Pure.

You adjusted your white lace turtleneck before your hands settled on your ankle length pink skirt. The very sight was way out of your true style but it would do for the service. Your white socks and black Mary Jane’s. Your cross bracelet, and necklace was a little overkill.

But no one knew how you used the cross in secret on your only fans.

The black thong you were wearing was already growing wet as you stood next to your father waiting for him to arrive. He greeted everyone with a handshake. Your eyes drifted over the crowd, mascara thick on your lashes as you subtly rose to your tiptoes. Damn, was he late to his own fathers funeral?

“Kitty, look who it is. Hello, Sarah.” You forced yourself to smile. She was crying with Topper on her arm. Apparently she and John B, Rafes arch nemesis, had broken up. For now anyway.

“Hi, Sarah, I’m so sorry…” You gave her a genuine hug and she squeezed tightly.

“Thank you, kitty.” She sniffed.

“Mr. Cameron, now that you’re here-“ You tried your best not to snap your head too directly in his direction but you slowly turned your head.

Rafe was wearing a suit and his hair was slicked back out of his eyes. Different than he had been running around a few weeks prior before he inherited the entire fortune.

He seemed…more unhinged. Something in his eyes flashed when he saw you, drank you in like a man after a day in heat. You gave him a sympathetic smile and you rolled your ankles, trying to seem smaller. More vulnerable. “Hi…Mr. Cameron. I’m so sorry for your loss…” You murmured.

His strong hand engulfed yours, his fingers long, covered in gold rings and warm. You looked into his blue eyes, shining on you and he said. “It’s still Rafe, little bunny.”

The nickname made you want to cum in your panties but you ducked your head with a blush. But you couldn’t blame him with your modest clothes and makeup. He returned to speaking with your father and you tried to keep your glances to a minimum. He was going to work for it.

The service was simple. Outdoors and you stood next to your father. You held a small Bible that was gifted to you in middle school as your cross dangled from in between your fingers. Rafe was staring at you. You could feel it but you wouldn’t give him the chance to meet your gaze yet.

You had a lollipop in your pocket. One you took out of your collection as you left your house. You always sucked on something. Your cross. Your dad wouldn’t think twice as you subtly unwrapped the paper and slowly licked a circle around the candy. Your tongue was lewd as you then pressed it passed your swollen lips.

You took another measure by your pointer and thumb pushing it back and forth and then you stuck it further…until it hit the back of your throat. Playing dumb, you gasped quietly and coughed. Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, lipstick slightly staining. You then took an opportunity to look at Rafe.

His jaw was tight and he was biting his lower lip. Blue eyes were darkening as he inhaled the process of your action. His chest moved up and down rapidly. You wanted him to know you were baiting him. But you also wanted to fuck with his mind. So you did the most reasonable thing your thoughts came up with.

You gave him a small wink.

After the funeral, he was out of your sight. But you took the extra step by linking your second account on your instagram story. You knew he would watch it.

Your obsession with Rafe Cameron started in high school. He was a few months older so he graduated sooner. But when you first saw him, hanging around other girls and guys at the private school. Disobeying rules but having enough family power to ignore them. Turned you on. His rebellion was something you craved. Your attraction only grew when you saw him one day yank a girl into a closet and you heard how good he made her feel. Granted, you hid right outside the door. You wanted to be her.

You want him to throw you around. Use you. Take you like you were only made to be his little toy. Your fantasies only grew when you followed him on social media, he was public so you had fast access.

What he didn’t know was that you used your second account. Where you wore your sluttiest clothes without showing your face. You posted stories about sexual thoughts, songs and thirst traps of your body. And he commented on every single one.

“Fuck, I wanna see your pretty face.”

“I want to fuck you. Fuck your throat. Watch you leak with my cum.”

It was an endless amount of fun. You knew he wanted you. He just didn’t know you were both versions yet. And each response you gave him, ended with a wink.

“Kitty, you look tired. Do you want to head home?” Your father asked. You nodded sheepishly. Finally, you could get home and post more on only fans. You knew he would watch as well.

“Thank you, dad. I’ll see you later.” You gave him a kiss on the cheek and started to the car.

It wasn’t an accident you parked across from him and you saw him walking in the direction. You dipped your hand into your pocket, acting like you were searching for your keys as you dropped a thin fabric on the ground. Quickly, before he could approach you, as you heard his shoes you got into the driver's seat.

Playing dumb was simply picking and choosing when you showed innocence. As you drove away, your plan cemented and you bit your lip.

Getting home and settling into your bed, you wore the lingerie Rafe always requested. Normally you charged him more, but you’d give him a treat today. You pulled out your rabbit, spitting on it and slathering it with lube. You barely needed any on your pussy as you set your phone exactly where it showed the best angle.

You wore the cross on your bracelet as you traced your clit with it. A lot of girls did this but Rafe would consider that it’s yours. Maybe he wouldn’t. The doubt would drive him crazy. Just like he drove you crazy.

He was infamous for snorting coke at parties you were never invited to and you imagined smearing it across his gums before licking them. Or his strong fingers holding you down as he did a line on your body. What you wanted most? Being pinned down as he spat on your mouth and slapped your pussy. These thoughts drove you to easily slip two fingers inside as you grind onto your hand.

“Fuck me, daddy. I need you.” You whined. You wish he was here. You wish it was his hand instead of yours.

You tried to hold back, usually taking longer for a video but you came extremely quickly. As you laid there, sweaty and still needy. You glanced at the notifications. They were repeated. Sliding on your side, exposing your bare ass, you picked up your kitten mask and read the messages.

They were all from Rafe.

He was sending money. “Please, let me see that fuckable face. I’m begging you, kitten. I need it. I need to fuck that soaking pussy. Daddy needs you.”

You had to bite your lip to keep from chuckling.

Normally, you just winked. But this time, your fingers swiped and you replied.

“Work for it, daddy.”

Rafe couldn’t get the image out of his head of you sucking the lollipop out of his fucked up head. You were the preacher's daughter for god's sake. Someone he teased for being some sort of Bible thumper and she probably didn’t even know what kinky meant. But…god she was pretty. The way she innocently batted her eyelashes at him like a bunny. That was what stuck out to him. A little bunny rabbit.

And then she winked at him. It felt so pointed. Purposeful. She also dropped a black damp thong on her way to her car. Rafe snatched it up before anyone could ever see it and he half scoffed and moaned. A creamy stain that was recent. Either she secretly touched herself or she was so wet that it soaked through and ran down her pretty legs.

The last words of the mystery girl on Only fans, who was his favorite porn star, gave him more than a wink this time. Work for it, daddy.

It made him cum all over his hand again just from her words so he couldn’t even imagine her pussy. But the doubt. The doubt was there. But she was-he clenched his fist. It was during the day and he had a second to breathe in between meetings.

Rafe typed her name on instagram.

As he suspected, it was mostly scenery shots, half faced selfies and photos with your father. A few of them you were smiling, apparently whoever took the photo made you laugh when you were at the beach. He almost swiped to another photo when he narrowed his eyes.

It was very small. He almost missed it but there was a small…handprint? Right below your swimsuit above your thigh. It had to be your hand, given the size but his mind drifted to a particular video where mystery girl spanked herself to his request. Was he being paranoid? He looked at another photo, a flashback to your graduation where John B took you to prom. And he felt at twitch in his jaw. But not before another detail caught his attention.

Underneath your bracelet. Left wrist. He saw a black mark. Not a mark, he zoomed in, careful not to like the picture.

It was a tattoo.

He couldn’t see what it was but his eyes widened. Mystery girl also had a tattoo there.

But you couldn’t possibly have one. Not the preachers daughter. Weren’t they forbidden or some shit? It was starting to drive him insane when his alarm went off.

“Fuck.” He muttered to himself and clicked the button. Turning his screen black. It couldn’t be you. Not this innocent girl who called him Mr. Cameron. But what if it was? He’d have to find out for himself. Anyway he needed to.

And here he was. At fucking church. He couldn’t remember a time he was here other than his dads funeral. Your dad was on the stage, flipping through a book he assumed was the Bible when he looked up.

“Mr. Cameron. What a pleasant surprise. Kitty, guess who’s here!”

He tried to keep his expression neutral as you came from a door on the left side. You wore a long light colored dress right above your ankle with the same shoes as the funeral. Your hair was in two braids with a kitten beanie, in this weather? And you still wore your two crosses.

But you were so pretty. Prettier than last time if it was possible. You gave him a small smile, ducking your head. “Hi, Mr. Cameron.”

He neared you both, trying to think of a way to subtly touch you without catching the attention of your father.

“Rafe. Um. I just wanted to stop by. Say thanks for the service. It-helped. Especially with Sarah. She’s all emotional and shit.” He quickly glanced at your dad. “Sorry.”

“No need. Freedom of speech is a gift. But you don’t need to thank me. It was Kitty who told me about him as well. So I could make it personalized.”

Rafe swore your eyes flashed. Just for a second. So he pushed. “You did? You friends with Sarah or something?”

You twirled your hair, apparently sucking on some sort of candy. When you opened your mouth, your tongue was red. “Yeah! We talk sometimes. I just wanted to help, you know?” You started sniffing. “I can’t imagine losing my dad.”

“Oh, honey…”

Rafe cleared his throat. Desperate to get you alone. “Hey-can I talk to you? Just for a minute, I wanted to ask you something.” He eyed you carefully and you nodded. Your dad didn’t seem suspicious. Which made his doubt increase.

Maybe the wink was a fluke. A nervous habit? Or maybe you did that to everyone.

You both stepped away, slowly walking down the aisle. He felt uncomfortable, wearing a suit when he wanted to feel loose. It was too constricting. You played the cross on your bracelet. He raked his brain for something or someway to look at your arm. He had to prove that you didn’t have a tattoo and he was just crazy.

“So, what did I want to talk about?” You prompt him and he clears his throat.

“I’m-“ Oh, no. What could he possibly say? “I’m trying to be more spiritual. You know, with my dad dead. I just want to have hope, you know? That I’ll see him again someday. I would ask your dad but you know. You’re more my age-“

“Oh, Rafe. You don’t have to explain yourself. Do you want me to help you? I can just…go over scriptures with you. Meet with you here. Doesn’t have to be complicated.” The way you said his name made him feel insane.

You had a tilt to your voice. The way you said the word. You didn’t sound like a little mouse for an instant. You sounded-confident. And then it quickly disappeared as your eyes flicked away. “Only if you want, I mean if you don’t, I understand-“

“No, I’d love that. And I also wanted to apologize for what I said. A while back.” This was the most awkward conversation he’d ever had in his life. You started twirling the end of your hair with a painted fingernail.

He squinted, trying to see any sort of ink. Nothing. He was right. And now he was stuck with some sort of scripture offer. “I-“ and then you stretched.

Your arms over your head and he didn’t know where not to look. Your tits were lifted, your neck exposed and then he saw your sleeve lift.

It was a black butterfly tattoo. It was medium sized. Pretty. And then he saw a few more peeking on yiur skin. Mystery girl had the same tattoo but it looked like you had more. Rafe snatched an opportunity.

“I like your tattoo.” He complimented. Hoping to get some sort of answer.

“Oh, thank you. The first one is from a while ago but the rest are new. Dad doesn’t approve but I promised to keep them covered up.” The candy you were sucking on. You rolled it around in your mouth and Rafe was bouncing with some sort of frazzled energy.

“What do you do? Outside of church?”

“I make jewelry. My own business. Sarah actually bought a few things. It’s obviously not Cameron level but I do pretty well.” A blush reddened your cheeks. Jewelry making? Damn. He didn’t have a fucking clue. But why did you wink?

He was going to lose his mind.

“That’s cool. I’ll have to-“He checked the time. He stopped here before going to the building for work.

“I have to get going. But I’m glad we talked. And I’m sorry again.”

“It’s okay, Rafe. I understand. Besides, I was still in high school and I was a little awkward.” You giggled behind a hand. Your smile was adorable and he had an urge to cup your face.

What was he doing? What was this end goal?

“Yeah, me too. Um-“

“Here,” You brought out your phone and opened the number key. “Just put your number in here and I’ll let you know when we can get started if you still want to!” She chirped as he quickly typed in his number.

Her phone in his hand was so small and he felt a twitch in his crotch. Her camera roll. It could be so easy. Just a Quick Look. Just to see. Just to be sure. But to his surprise, you took it back before he had a chance.

“It was nice to see you,” You nodded with a smile.

“Yeah! You too.” He said quietly and watched you walk away. His mind was even more fucked.

Who were you? Or who was the mystery girl? For once in his life, he did consider praying for an answer.

Getting more tattoos at the same time he showed up at church wasn’t planned but it worked out exactly to your favor as you shut your room door with your hip and set your bag down. But you saw the wheels turning in his head. He was taking the bait and you smirked. This was almost too easy. Trapping him. But he was so desperate.

You needed to spark something in him, either get him to ask directly or get him to cave.

Adjusting your hair in your car mirror, you scanned your white dress for any stains. The small flowers decorating the fabric and your cross on your body. But this time you wore a pair of boots that your father nearly had a heart attack with. They were completely different than you normally wore. But you needed more proof that you were his favorite little bunny.

The church loitered with a few people, as they normally did after a Sunday service. Your knee bounced as you waited for Rafe as you sat in the front. You had a few scriptures in mind, ones to stir him and you knew he’d never imagine were in the Bible.

“Sorry, I kept you waiting.” His raspy voice caught you by the surprise but you slowly turned and looked up at him.

Rafe wasn’t in his suit today, instead his casual clothes but there was nothing casual about the way he was staring at you. His eyes were on fire. Full of desire and confusion.

“Oh! That’s okay, Rafe! I wasn’t waiting long! Please sit,” you scooted over and he seated next to you. His knee against yours. You didn’t move it.

“So, you want to hear a few scriptures, or I can pray for you, which would you prefer?” You spread your legs a little and Rafe swallowed. His jaw clenched.

“Uh-I-i don’t think I’ve ever prayed before. So the Bible is fine. I just want to make peace, you know. With my dad. But I have another problem.” You raise an eyebrow.

“There’s someone I really want. And I know it’s…against the lord of whatever. And I need some help. What should l do? How do I resist it like you?” His question hung in the air and your chest tightened. You were so tempted to tell him but that’s not what you wanted.

“Well. I just listen to what the Bible says about that. It keeps me strong. What it says is clear.” You nodded. You opened the book on your lap, “1st John 1:9 ‘if we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness’” you looked at him.

“So, if you confess, God will help you.”

Rafe bit his lip and leaned in closer. “This girl. She’s a fucking porn star,” he growls. “And she wears a little kitten mask and she fucks herself all nice and obedient for me. But the problem is she teases me like a brat. She never shows her face even though I give her more money than she’s ever seen. She’s her fathers only child but she calls me daddy. And had the nerve to tell me to work for it. She fucks her cross on her pussy when she knows damn well I could do it better. But she hides. Hides behind this little innocent act with the holy Bible and looks at me with eyes that make me want to rob every single innocence away from her and expose her for the whore she is. And baby, I think it’s you.”

Your core was dripping on the bench. You were almost shaking with want and you almost had to look away from him. You felt exposed. He did figure it out. You weren’t quite prepared as you thought with his reaction. Despite your activity behind your close door, you hadn’t fucked anyone all the way. Making out with friends at sleepovers was as far as you got in real life. Your obsession with Rafe made you wait. You always knew he’d be yours. And you made it happen.

“I-“ he held a finger against your lips, cutting you off.

“No, no, no, see you’ve fucked around with me a little too long, little girl. Now, I get to show you exactly how big of a mistake that was. So, you’re going to go home and think long and hard about what’s going to happen next. For once, I think your God isn’t going to protect you from me.” Rafe pulled away and stood.

“How does it feel to be left high and dry? And by the way, nice tattoos.” And then he winked at you.

You gasped as he walked away.

Your thighs were growing damp from the leaking arousal and you were breathing heavily. Holy shit. It worked. You bit your lip as you pulled out your phone.

He had texted you. “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

When you got home, your dad was out. He was gathering his sermon scriptures and then to spend time with his small circle of friends. You told him you didn’t feel well enough to go. Your mask was secure on your face as you took photos in your bra and panties.

You planned on making more content but it was getting harder because you wanted Rafe so badly. You wanted him to fuck the brat right out of you, making all your dreams come true from his earlier talk. Pouting, you started going through tik tok, laying on your stomach. But then a noise caught your attention. Sitting up, you went to grab your robe when your door was bashed open.

Eyes wide, you see Rafe walk towards you, with a sadistic smirk on his face. He tilted his head, trailing his blue irises over your body, your naked knees pressing together.

“Hey kitty.” He said, stalking towards you. Rafe kneeled on your bed before grabbing your ankles. You shrieked as he dragged you towards him and loomed over you. “The mask was a really nice touch, baby.” Rafe glanced at the cross on your neck after he tore off your mask and threw it. He pulled it, tugging you up.

His breath hit your mouth. “You want to be my slut? All those fucking videos for me. Making me crazy. Making me doubt myself. You’re gonna regret it. Open your fucking mouth.”

You immediately obeyed and Rafe spit inside. He grabbed your jaw and closed it.

“What’s wrong? What happened to that little brat? Aw, she’s done isn’t she? Fuck, and I haven’t even done anything.” He tapped your cheek harshly. You felt his silver rings against your skin.

You were trembling but you grabbed his face and smashed your lips together. You tried sitting up but Rafe would have nothing less than submission as he pinned your hands above your head and dominated his tongue in your mouth. He kissed you with brutal force and you almost came just from that. All these years and it was better than you could have ever imagined.

He ripped away and wrapped his hands around your throat. “Tell me you’re going to be good.”

Your air was cutting off and you nodded rapidly. “I’ll be good.”

“Say I’m sorry, daddy. I’m sorry for making me have to search for answers. And finally break into your fucking house.” Rafe snarled and tightened his grip. You could feel him hardened above you.

He shoved his hand inside your underwear, grazing your soaking pussy. His two fingers rubbed your clit but with too light pressure. Your eyes rolled back as your stomach tightened.

“You’re so pathetic. Gonna cum and I haven’t even fucked you yet. You’re a fucking virgin, aren’t you? A little whore but you’ve never done this with anyone but your own tiny fingers.” Rafe lent down and hovered over your mouth that was parted.

He pulled his hand away and you whined. “No, please, I’m sorry daddy. I’m sorry for doing all this-“

“I’m sorry daddy,” Rafe mocked you, his fingers shoving inside your greedy entrance. “I’m sorry daddy that I’m a dripping whore and I need the Bible to get you to fuck me.” He started chuckling as you grew noisier. “Come on, you can do better than that.”

“I’m-“ He stopped and you almost screamed. “I’m so sorry, daddy. I’m a stupid dripping whore but I want you so bad. You can do whatever you want to me. I’ll take anything but please stop teasing-“

Rafe broke then, his hand removed from your neck and you sucked in air. His mouth slammed against yours as he ripped your underwear off, and fumbled with his belt. He slid down, kneeling on the floor as he spread your legs. Your glistening cunt made his eyes darken. “You’re so fucking wet for this.”

His tongue lapped at your clit, circling it around the bud before he licked the underside with pressure. You mewled and clawed the bed as he devoured you. Rafe’s tongue slipped inside you with ease as you clenched. You were so close it was painful. But he was relentless. Slowing when you were just about to reach your peak.

“Daddy, please make me cum.” You cried out, tears pricking your eyes. “I’m sorry, but please daddy.”

Rafe stopped and yanked off his pants and boxers. His heavy leaking dick was bigger than you thought as he wasted no time running it down your pussy. “This may hurt a little,” He warned before slamming in. “But you can fucking take it.”

Your nails clawed his back as he thrusted again. You moaned so loudly it surprised you but he met you in volume. “Fuck, daddy!” You said against his ear.

“Are you going to behave?” Rafe grunted as he crudely started massaging your clit. “Are you going to behave from now on?”

Your vision went white as your stomach tightened, “yes I promise,” You whispered before your pleasure exploded.

Rafe did too, his movements stalled as you felt him empty inside you, and your damp forehead rested against his.

“Maybe I fucked a baby in you, kitten.” Rafe sneered with a fucked out look. He was still inside you. “Looks like you corrupted me to your religion.” He smirked before pulling out.

“So…” You cleared your throat and looked at him with a small amount of vulnerability. “What does this mean? Is this it?”

Rafe inhaled and his fingers went to grip your jaw. His powerful face above you sent chills down your naked spine. “If you think you’re anything else but mine, then you’re a dumb little bunny. No one will ever touch you but me. Be with you but me. And besides,” He grinned wickedly. “Your dad already likes me.”

Tagging

@imyourdaninow @drewstarkeyslut @ifeeltoofuckingmuch @slvt4jamesmarch @reidsbtch @lesservillain @take-everything-you-can @emsgoodthinkin @imyourdaninow

[bel1ewrites]

Booth Five (Sam Carpenter x Reader)

A/n: Here's another one, love you guys.

WC: Idfk

Warnings: smut, top!Sam, bossyish!reader, slightly public sex, thigh riding, more thigh riding, Sam in fancy work clothes

NUMEROUS visits to her favorite place after a long, hard day of work had forced Sam's ears to grow accustomed to the deafening thunder of sensual music that pumped through the hazy club.

Ever since the very first week of her new life in the the city, Sam had made sure to become somewhat of a regular at The Vanity. She made sure to commit each and every worker to memory, even went out of her way to tip a little extra every visit. It was just who she was. She loved to pay attention, and she loved to be aware.

She did not, however, love to be confused.

From her spot on a cracked leather couch, she sits with a drink in her hand, the top few buttons of her shirt undone, and she watches you move. The colored lights run over your body like waves on a shore, black lace the only thing stopping you from being fully exposed. It's euphoric, the way you move. It's familiar and free, icy hot. Sam takes a pull of her drink.

------

"You've got a private booking, honey," your boss calls as you fuss with your hair in the vanity mirror. She's a firecracker of a woman, short and curvy. The voice of a smoker mixed with the tone of a caretaker. "Booth five."

It hadn't taken you long to understand the inner workings of your place of employment. Annoyingly, nothing was ever straightforward, and booth five was not an exception to this rule.

You'd learned that an hour with one of the dancers in booth five had to cost more than your rent; which, albeit, didn't say much. It was the coldest spot in the whole club, nothing but dark red walls and a single black couch, and you couldn't really tell if it was the air vents or the dark aura that made you shiver when you passed it.

This is the first time anyone has requested for you to be in there.

"Um," your voice is steady as you turn around, smoothing a hand over non existent fabric out of nervous habit, "Is it cool if Amber takes this one?"

A beat passes.

"The patron requested for it to be you." If she notices the way your heart drops, she doesn't mention it. Only smiles crookedly and nods, effectively dismissing you from the comfort of being alone.

The beat of your heart doubles that of the music as you walk out of the room, a little unsure and a little irratic. Your heels feel too tall, your chest too tight.

Dancing was different. Dancing didn't bring forth any unwanted social interaction. Sure, there was the occasional creep, but they never really bothered you much when you could tune them out with thoughts of being beneath your covers with hot Chinese food and your cat curled up on your lap.

This was intimate. This was private and there was really no practical way of getting out of it.

You're sure you're going to pass out when you reach the outside of the booth, nothing but a thin curtain separating you from the unknown man waiting inside. Is he married? Is he demanding? Does he expect anything more than a lap dance from you?

A job is a job, you remind yourself, breathing deeply once, twice before stepping inside.

The air is charged. Static pulses around you. So its a woman. There's a woman a few feet in front of you.

She sits there, back against the couch and legs spread like she owns the place, shirt slightly unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up. She's tall and dark and has the look of someone who's grown accustomed to getting what she wants one way or another. Her eyes drop down your figure, lingering at certain parts unabashedly. They run over every inch of you slowly, methodically. She wets her lips.

"Hello." She speaks. Her voice is fire and ice. It's raspy and smooth, dark and calculated and so insanely perfect that it makes your ears ring a little.

It's your turn to say something, anything, really. You really do try to greet her, even open your mouth for a second before promptly shutting it again.

"It's reasonable to expect a greeting after one says hello, is it not?" Her brow raises. It seems that all it takes for you to gain your composure is a little confrontation.

You close the still open door and take a step forward, trapping a palpable tension in the room along with the sound of muffled music.

"Sorry about that, I just wasn't expecting... this." Amusement flashes in her eyes. "You weren't expecting a woman?" She questions, patting the space beside her and signaling for you to sit.

There's room for her to scoot over and create a comfortable amount of space between your bodies, but that doesn't seem like something she wants.

Your body moves without your mind's consent, "no, I wasnt," you answer, taking your seat.

She hums, the scent of her cologne wafting over you like a drug. "Disappointed?" she asks, bottom lip puffed out in a teasing pout.

The couch is cold beneath you, but that doesn't stop the fire from rushing to your cheeks. Nervously, you run a hand through your hair and smile, trying not to let her undeniable smoothness get in the way of yours.

"Oh, hardly," you let out a raspy huff of laughter and you can't help the way your eyes flit to her mouth.

A smirk tugs at her lips, pout dropping entirely. "Well aren't you fiery."

"Why did you ask for me?" you pry, gaze hooded.

"Why wouldn't I?" She questions, tone serious and eyes on yours. The air feels thick around you.

She truly is a beautiful woman, silky black hair and dark eyes surrounded by thick lashes. The muscles in her arms pull at the fabric surrounding them. You suddenly feel underdressed.

"Amber normally takes this booth," you offer truthfully.

Amber was a favorite amongst the club. She was all dark smiles and sinful moves. You appreciated her for her wit and ability to seem completely calm at all times; a skill you wish you had.

Her hand drops to the bare flesh of your upper thigh. "I didn't ask for Amber, did I?"

Sam had interacted with the girl numerous times. She'd been working here since that first night and was undoubtedly beautiful, but she didn't feel drawn to Amber like she did you. Her body didn't light up when she saw her like it did with you. You were different.

"What's your name?" you pry.

The heat of her gaze along with that of her palm on your thigh sends jolts down your spine. You can see the muscles in her jaw move as she grits her teeth, swallowing hard.

"Sam."

"Why did you ask for me?" you ask again, eyes on her dark and blown pupils. Your own gaze is hooded, lashes low as you look up at her.

She smiles wolfishly, teeth flashing. "Can't a girl want to get to know someone?"

"Well," you look down at her mouth, "I guess when you put it that way."

The air around you seemed to grow thick, tension lacing through it. Her aura was intoxicating, the way it consumed you so quickly, made you want to give her everything.

She hums, tightening her grip on your thigh, "For such a pretty girl you sure do ask a lot of questions," the words fall from her lips, tone low and dripping with want.

"Yeah?" You smile.

"Yes." She shoots back.

"Really?"

She ignores you, looking at you so intensely you almost think you did something wrong.

"Can I kiss you?"

You nod, maybe a little too eagerly but you can't help it. When she kisses you it's softer than you expect it to be, like she's testing the waters. Her hand runs up your thighs, teases its way to your hip and squeezes the flesh there. It makes your head spin and your heart race, heat settling in your lower stomach.

Teeth graze your bottom lip as she pulls back a little. "Come here," The woman breathes into your mouth. She guides you onto her lap, smiling and leaning further into the couch. You have to arch forward to kiss her again, something that isn't an accident on her part.

Hands grip at your waist, your hips, your ass. She's deepening the kiss like it's pushing life into her and she can't get enough. it's a needy, panting scene as her lips and tongue slide over yours.

She kisses you like you've never been kissed, skill and need intertwining into a moment that makes you dizzy. She's all soft lips and rough teeth, nipping and sucking and soothing.

The musky scent of her cologne messes with your head and you can't stop your hips from moving, seeking pressure to tame the heat inside of you.

She trails her lips down to your neck, hand pulling at your hair to tilt your head back. "That's it, baby," Sam coos, teeth scraping under your jaw, "use my leg." She shifts the two of you before you can do anything, moving you to straddle her thigh. Her lips latch onto a sensitive spot on your neck as she pushes her leg up and into you.

"Fuck," you gasp out, gripping her shoulders and arching further into her. The position gives her mouth easy access to your chest.

The fabric of your lace bra is easy for her to move to the side, baring your hardened nipple to her.

"You're so pretty," She groans beneath you, pressing her tongue to the sensitive bud.

Pleasure shoots through you and you suppress a moan at the feeling of her skilled mouth against you. She's pulling at your hips, guiding their movements as you rock into her. It's hard to remember where you are, how any of your coworkers can walk in if they want to. All you can think about is how muscular her leg is through her pants as it presses into your clit in just the right way, how strong her hands are as they grasp at your body like it's her lifeline.

It's almost embarrassing, how worked up this stranger has you. She's touching you like she knows your body, and you can feel your wetness soaking through your fabric. Truth be told, you'd been wet since she first spoke, voice smokey and addicting.

She sucks your tit into her mouth, tongue lashing at your nipple and you have to push her away before you get loud. She protests as you send her back to leaning against the couch, but ultimately keeps quiet when you bury your head in her neck to muffle your moans.

"That's it, just like that pretty girl," She whispers in your ear while you grind against her, leg rubbing your clit just right each time. "You sound so pretty."

Needy whines and sighs escape your throat, lips pressed to her neck while she pushes her thigh harder into you. She hums at the feeling, sound deep and rasped.

You would be disappointed in yourself for being so close this fast, and over the clothes no less, but you can't feel anything other than the pressure in your lower stomach building and building.

"It's so good," you admit breathily into her neck, nails digging into her upper back through the button up. You can feel the firm muscles there, and you can't help but picture them rippling as she fucks you.

"What's so good?" she asks like she already knows the answer.

Her voice sends you spiraling further, the almost taunting tone laced in her words. "The way you touch me."

She laughs lowly, "Oh? You close?" Her head turns as she presses a kiss to your cheek, you pull your head out of her neck and look her in the eyes.

"Use your hand," you order, grabbing her right wrist and dragging it towards where you want it.

The look that washes over her almost pushes you over the edge, the way she listens to your command and presses her fingertips to your clit.

The texture of the fabric rubbing against you feels overwhelmingly good, tension building in your body. You watch her with your eyes half open and your lips parted, watch as she drinks you in with her eyes.

Everything about her is skilled, the way she moves her hand in hard circles and pushes into you. Her free hand wraps around your neck gently and pushes you back a bit so that she can see more of you, your free nipple and the blush spreading across your chest. The action combined with the slight pressure on your neck makes your eyes roll back, a curse falling from your lips.

"Faster. Fuck, Sam," you tilt your head back and move with her hand, "I'm so close."

She listens so good, movements speeding up just how you asked. It feels so good, the warmth spreading throughout your body and coiling in your stomach. You're panting needily, orgasm rushing towards you, its presence overbearing.

"So bossy," She teases.

A slew of words grace your lips, body falling forward to mask the volume of your moans in the crook of her neck. She moves with precision, never once slowing down or faltering.

"Come on, baby," She urges, "cum on my hand."

It only takes a few more movements before you're doing just that, body tensing up and shuddering above her. The orgasm hits you like a bullet train and drags itself out, lasting longer than any other you'd ever had.

The feeling of her arm around your back, fingers still moving on your clit to guide you through makes it last longer. Her voice is in your head, grounding you as she whispers.

Her hand is gone from your clit and her neck is sweaty from the combined body heat by the time you pull back, shaking slightly. The reality of the situation doesn't hit you, just lingers in the back of your mind as you look at her.

"Hi," you say, hair sticking to your forehead slightly.

"Hi," She smiles sweetly back. "Sorry about the hickeys, I got a little carried away."

Your nipple hurts a little from the intensity with which she sucked at it, and you know your neck is riddled with marks.

"It's okay," you smile back, "but you'll have to be the one to let my boss know where they came from."

Her smile turns sheepish, though you can tell she doesn't regret leaving them. "Only if I can see you again," her arms tighten around your waist, lips brushing yours.

"Deal."