#but i need to just start asking before i pick things up

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Urgent Call

"I need your phone."

Tim looks up from his laptop. The boy in front of him looks like he's been dragged to Hell a week ago and just made it back: smudges of soot on his face, his not-so-white t-shirt smelling of smoke, and a nasty looking burn on his hand that he somehow doesn't even pay attention to. Tim thinks back to his mental list of 'Rogues currently on the loose', but it's only Ivy and Harley (who don't even count anymore), and Penguin, who is not known for setting things on fire.

"I can call 911 for you, if you want?" He offers, because this is still Gotham. Despite the fact that a slightly scorched guy casually walking into a coffee shop is not something out of the ordinary here, he's not giving his phone to strangers.

The guy grimaces and starts aggressively rummaging through his pockets.

"No, thanks, ACAB and all that, and they won't do shit here anyway," he says, and then pulls a handful of tangled golden jewelry — rings, chains, necklaces with various gems in them — from his pocket and places it on the table in front of Tim. "I need your phone," he repeats.

Tim stares. First, at the gold — these things look antique, and his parents were archeologists, he knows what he's talking about — then, back at the guy. He looks... ordinary, sans the dirt and smell.

But the burn on his hand looks significantly more healed than it did just a minute ago.

Thankfully, Tim has already had his cup of morning coffee. Which means he is thinking very rationally when he does get his phone out of his pocket and hands it to the guy, just to see what he does next.

"Thanks," the guy grins at him, plucking the phone out of Tim's hand and unlocking it. Tim's eyebrows shoot up — there's a password there! — but the stranger is already dialing in a number and pressing the phone to his ear.

It takes less than a second before someone evidently picks up, and the guy starts talking.

"I have less than three minutes before the phone dies, so listen very carefully. Etrigan is fine, Jason is not, Klarion is still being a bitch. Dora won't help anymore, so you're on your own until Sam makes it there with the staff. I'm in Gotham because, apparently, mazes and I don't mix well together, so if you could summon me back, that'd be cool," he says, a look of mild annoyance on his face.

Tim is back to staring at him. He recognizes some of the names, and, well, one could have been an oddity, two a coincidence, but three is a pattern.

"The fuck you mean you can't, I gave you the incantation two months ago!" The guy raises his voice, his foot tapping on the floor in frustration. "Do you think I just go around giving my summons to people for shits and giggles? Like, yeah, have a spell that unleashes a cosmic being of immeasurable power, use it as a bookmark!"

This interaction, despite Tim only hearing one side of it, gets more and more alarming with every word.

But then, the boy suddenly straightens up and stills, his eyes flashing bright, unpleasantly familiar green.

"You what?" He asks, his voice slipping from just angry to quietly enraged hiss, "Sold it to whom?!" But, before he gets an answer, Tim's phone makes a thin, tiny buzzing sound, and the guy takes it off his ear, looking at the screen.

"No, no-no-no," he mutters, shaking it like that would make it work. To no avail, though: the phone screen flashes a few times and goes black. The guy curses. At least Tim thinks it's a curse because he doesn't understand a word, but the stranger's face and intonation are telling.

"Useless fucking moron of a human, I swear I'm going to drown you in cow shit once this is over," he switches to English, dropping the phone on the table right by the small pile of gold, "I'll bargain your pathetic soul from everyone you've ever dealt with and give it to the Observants, and maybe, after a few millenia of endless Council paperwork, I'll have mercy and sell it back to Lucifer and watch him fry you on a skillet."

...Whoever the boy is, Tim absolutely refuses to ever piss him off, okay. That's an impressive threat to even make, not to mention being able to go through with it.

"Do you need help?" He asks cautiously. If he is getting his context clues right, this is something that involves JLD, and maybe John Constantine specifically since Tim doesn't know any other man who is a magic user, sold his soul numerous times, would care about Etrigan's wellbeing, and could invoke this kind of murderous intent.

The boy looks back at him, his eyes back to normal blue.

"Huh? Oh, no, I doubt this can be helped," he waves Tim off and pinches the bridge of his nose, "Sorry about the phone, but, unless you have a way to yeet me across the globe so I end up in London in the next twenty minutes..." he shrugs, smiling in that helpless 'nothing you can do here' way.

Tim picks up his phone. It's dead, wholly and completely, won't even turn on when he tries.

He really, really shouldn't do that. This is definitely none of his business, and very much out of his capabilities and area of expertise.

But he thinks about the zeta-tube in the Cave.

"Actually," he says, and the guy's eyes snap back to him, a bewildered sort of surprise on his face.

[spidey-webz]

Hi :D I just watched Thunderbolts and I’m totally obsessed w Bob/Sentry/Void omg 🥰

I’m requesting a Bob Reynolds x Fem!Reader smut, preferably riding him (reference to the movie hehe) - could be riding his fingers/thighs/c*ck 👀

ngl, i've been having the exact same idea since i left the cinema ahhhh. this is just soft sex ngl

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x f!reader Warnings: 18+ MDNI, fingering, dirty talk, soft dom bob if you squint, riding, unprotected p in v, petnames (honey), brief mentions of bob's anxiety, no beta Words: 1.4k Summary: Bob loves to finger you, but he loves seeing you ride him even more.

masterlist

Bob and you had been together for a little while. He was glad that he had found you. You made him feel less alone, less... alienated. He could feel normal around you and your presence alone oftentimes took his mind off things. It distracted him from the memories rushing in and out of his mind, sometimes lingering, sometimes not.

And there was no better distraction than getting to touch you. You had taken it slow at first, but after the first few times you ended up in bed together, he grew more and more confident.

Bob loved to please you. There was nothing sweeter to him than seeing you come underneath him. Or to have you writhe on his fingers.

Like he was doing just now.

His fingers were fully buried inside you, making your hips squirm against his hand. Your hands were fisting the sheets in a desperate attempt to grab hold of something while Bob was curling his fingers up. Just a little. Just enough for you to gasp. "Does it feel good?" He asked, a mischievous smirk on his lips. Of course it did. There was rarely a time where you didn't enjoy anything the man gave you.

His hair was a dishevelled mess as he bent over you. Bob always looked at you with wide, curious eyes, as if he couldn’t quite believe how lucky he had gotten. How much he adored to see every small change in your face, the slightest hint at your approval or disproval, but most importantly… the way your lips parted when you came or how you tilted your head back slightly whenever he hit that sweet spot inside you.

Despite his initial nerves when it came to making you come, he had grown so good at it. Bob knew exactly where his fingertips had to brush over your sensitive walls. After watching you so carefully the first few times, he had been able to make out exactly when his fingers needed to speed up or slow down until you'd be trembling under his touch.

“I asked you something, honey."

His fingers sped up inside you.

Bucking your hips up against his touch, you nodded.

"Yes." Your voice was barely audible, but the smirk on Bob's face told you enough. He was pleased with himself.

Bob struggled with his own self-worth and identity constantly, but pleasing you often made him feel better. Being able to make you feel good was enough to lift his mood and he thrived on knowing that you wanted him to make you come.

He could tell your climax was close when your walls started to squeeze around his fingers, moans spilling from your mouth by the second.

Then he pulled his hand away and you were left gaping around nothing. You were about to protest, tempted to reach out and pull your boyfriend back to you, but he was faster.

You often forgot how easy it was for Bob to just pick you up and place you wherever he wanted you to be. His hands grabbed your hips, lifting you up and onto his lap. His lips found yours as his big hands travelled down your back, squeezing your ass while you could feel him get harder and harder in his boxers.

He groaned into the kiss, a desperate sound, before he pulled away to look at you.

He didn't have to say anything for you to know what he was going to suggest. His cock was pulsing underneath you, desperate to get the attention it deserved as you had probably already left a stain on Bob's boxers.

Your hands took a hold of his shoulders as you lifted yourself enough for Bob to wiggle out of his underwear. He placed a few more kisses along your throat as you hovered above him while adjusting his cock, so you could sit down on it.

The tip of his cock brushed against your folds and you felt your pussy squeeze around nothing. His fingers had left you craving for so much more and you couldn't wait to have him fill you to the brim.

Bob grabbed your hips again, this time slowly guiding you down onto his cock. He took his time with it, allowing you to take him inch by inch as his lips remained on your soft skin. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as his cock started to stretch your walls so deliciously.

And when you had finally taken him completely, he couldn't help but grab the back of your neck and take a look at you. There wasn't a sight more beautiful in the world. This is what gave him peace of mind.

Seeing you in his lap, tits right in front of him while he could feel your tight walls squeezing him. While he could see you squirm impatiently.

"Take what you need, honey."

His voice was raspy, marked by his desire.

He didn't have to tell you twice.

You leaned forward a little, starting to move your hips back and forth first. He always filled you out so nicely and when you angled your hips just right, you could feel him pressing against that sensitive spot deep within you.

Bob's head tilted back, a few strands of his hair falling into his face as he just let you take what you needed.

When you planted your hands on his chest and sped up your pace, he couldn't keep his own moans at bay. His fingers dug into the flesh of your hips as he started to meet your movements with his own. You bounced up and down on him, nails leaving his skin red and he wished he could feel the sting of them.

"Looking so good," he mumbled, eyes fixated on your tits bouncing up and down. His hands left your hips to squeeze your breasts and it only made the knot in your stomach tighten. Your legs were trembling, but you wanted more. So much more.

You moved your hips back and forth, then up and down again. He was so deep and every time you sank back down on him, it brought you closer to your high. You didn't hold back your moans either, whimpers falling from your lips as he hit that sweet spot inside you.

"Going to come on top of me?" Bob sounded a little out of breath as he was simply mesmerised by the sight in front of him.

His thumbs brushed over your nipples as he thrusted up into you faster, desperate to reach his own high. Your pussy was starting to contract around him, enough of a sign to tell him you were so very close.

"Mhm?"

You fell into a desperate frenzy with your movements, almost too distracted to answer him, but when you could feel your orgasm approaching, like a wave ready to rip you apart, you nodded again.

"Yes," you whispered, nails digging further into his chest.

You were so very close, so-

His right hand moved to your back, urging you forward a little, so you could lean over him. His lips found your breasts, biting into your soft skin before he took a hold of your hips again.

Bob started to hold you in place as he thrusted up faster and harder into you. His speed was unrelenting, each thrust driving you further towards a sweet release and your whimpers only grew louder.

When Bob hit that sweet spot again, you fell apart with a soft cry. Your thighs started to shake on either side of his body, hands gripping the headboard as your orgasm rolled over you and all the while Bob was moaning right against your breasts. He was close too and the contractions of your walls around him just pushed him further and further to the edge.

Until it hit him too.

"Shit," he groaned loudly, hips bucking up hard one last time, before he forced you all the way down on his cock again.

You could feel him fill you up with warm ropes of cum, his shaft pulsing inside you as you both attempted to catch your breath.

His arms snaked around your torso, pulling you closer to him, so you could bury your face in his neck while he still stayed inside you until he would go soft again.

Moving his lips to your ear, his words were barely a whisper.

"I love you."

[bigheartbuck]

8.17 fix it/canon divergent

"Eddie," Tommy says, and he sounds like he does at work. Firm. Calm. He's navigated helicopters through much worse than this. Raging storms and hurricanes. "Eddie, step away."

Eddie whips around, head snapping at him, eyes angry. Finger still pointed. Nostrils flaring. Buck is looking wide eyed. The tension in the air is palpable. Thick and heavy. "What are you doing here?" Eddie asks sharply and Tommy raises an eyebrow. Holds up the empty food containers. After the funeral, they'd all eaten at Hen's place. Buck had brought food for everyone. No one had really eaten anything. But it'd been nice, regardless. Or well, as nice as it gets when your captain dies and you have to do normal things after his funeral, such as eating and sleeping. Tommy had stayed behind to help Hen clean up. Had promised to drop off the food containers at Buck's.

So here he is. Backdoor wasn't shut and he walked in on Buck's face twisting into shame and grief and guilt and Eddie's raised voice.

Tommy puts the containers on the counter. Tries to meet Evan's eyes. It's charged in here. Tommy feels his stomach knot at the way Evan curls in on himself. Something isn't right. "Just came to bring these back," Tommy says, and then finally Evan looks back at him. "You okay?" Tommy asks.

Eddie scoffs, crossing his arms. “He’s fine. We're okay. Buck doesn't need you.” Buck shifts uncomfortably. “Eddie, come on…”

But Eddie ignores him, stepping closer to Tommy. “You’re not part of this team. You don’t know what we’ve been through.” It's a grief response, probably. Eddie is hot headed. Can be arrogant and mean. Buck's mentioned it jokingly before but it doesn't seem funny now. Nothing about it is fucking funny.

Tommy meets Eddie's gaze, unyielding. "I’m just here for Evan.”

Buck pushes past Eddie and towards Tommy and Tommy can see it in his tense shoulders, his set jaw. He's going to cry. And he definitely doesn't want Eddie to see right now. Whatever their argument was about, he needs to get out of here. "You wanted to catch that movie, right?" Evan says, voice brittle and sharp and he pointedly ignores Eddie. Tommy doesn't even blink. He touches the small of Evan's back. "Yeah," he says gently. "We're running late, come on."

Evan doesn't say anything on the drive. He stares down at his phone and bites his lip, and then out of the window and then back at his phone again. Fiddles with the seam of his jeans. Bounces his leg. At a red light stop, Tommy reaches over. Places his hand on Evan's thigh. Evan stills underneath his palm. Outside it's starting to rain. Drizzle, really. "My place okay?" Tommy asks and keeps his hand right there. Eyes on the road.

"Please." Buck's voice is rough, hoarse. Another beat. "I don't need you to save me, by the way. This isn't -- I was handling it fine."

Tommy glances at him. His chest clenches. "Hey, I know. That's not what--"

"He said I always make it about me." Buck blurts out, and he's angry and hurt. Grips Tommy's hand with his own, squeezes tightly. "Said I-- I don't know. Doesn't matter." His breath hitches. "I tried so hard to be okay, Tommy, I really did. And I - I know I'm a lot but I really thought I-" He lets out a wet huff. "I was there for everyone, I really tried to be. Like he said. To be what they needed but I was selfish, apparently and I-"

Tommy parks the car. They're here. He kills the engine and twists in his seat to look at Buck properly. The rain is picking up now, drumming against the windows.

"You're not selfish," he says firmly. "You're grieving and taking care of everyone. You're the least selfish person I know." Throat working, Buck shakes his head, looking down at their hands. His eyes are wet.

"Come on, let's head inside. Got some sweats you can borrow." Steal. Buck used to steal them. Sleep in them, sleep in Tommy's shirts. Buck seems to remember too because he manages a small, soft smile.

They get inside and Tommy flicks on the lights, door falling shut behind them. He's barely out of his shoes when Evan steps into his space, crashes into him. Tommy lets out an oomph sound and then folds his arms around him. He's put on muscle, has become so solid and filled out but he buries himself deep into Tommy's chest. Tommy thinks about watching Buck through the monitors and how badly he wanted to hold him then. How badly he wanted to catch his pain with his bare hands. "I got you," he whispers and presses his nose into the curls. "I got you, baby." The pet name slips out like that. Evan doesn't seem to notice, he's trembling and shaking, and Tommy can feel him crying more than he can hear him.

Tommy holds him. Holds him through it all.

[motthe]

there's no death here | robert "bob" reynolds

ཐིཋྀ thunderbolts caught me with a bob-shaped hole in my heart.

warnings: spoilers from thunderbolts, super!reader, fem!reader, not sure if I'll make a bunch of parts or even finish this idea so be warned, gonna go ahead and say canon-divergent to save my ass bc im no marvel expert.

《masterlist》

You weren't built for battle—the powers you had were more defense based than anything—but you had been trained by the best of the best. The countless lessons left your survival skills above subpar, and maybe you could make use of your size and strangle a man twice it, but those things didn't make you a hero.

And being around so many of them for so long, it's disturbingly easy to start to feel useless.

“Born or cursed?”

You didn't remember who had asked it. You do remember you had been younger, that you'd been more or less adopted into the world of the Avengers without ever truly being thrown into it. Wanda and Natasha had been your everything, especially when it came to helping with your powers. Between the supernatural and the mental side, they had done wonders.

Sitting around and not making use of yourself would be spitting on their memory, so it wasn't long before you were dragged into government business. Reading minds was handy, but picking apart memories? Entering their psyche?

You were gold to detectives and last resort for men in black suits who would “talk” to criminals if you didn't.

The work had drained enough from you by the time Bucky showed up on your doorstep with a bottle of liquor and a favor.

“This isn't what I do,” you told him, looking over the files. “I'm not a therapist or a teacher. If Void is as powerful as you say it is—”

“It can be beaten,” he explained. “We've done it before. I just need you to help Bob block it out. You know how to do that.”

“With other people's thoughts,” you argued.

He shook his head. “You suppress memories. You put them into neat little boxes for your agent work.”

“You want me to make him forget something that dangerous?”

“I want you to show him he's not alone when it comes to this side of superpowers.” Bucky stood, a warm hand coming down on your shoulder and squeezing. “We've all been scattered. It's a shit team, the New Avengers, but it's something, kid.”

“I’m not a kid anymore, Bucky,” you sighed.

“I know. Wouldn't be asking you for your help if you were.”

The door shut to your apartment in farewell, but one visit from the Winter Soldier had too many opening at once. Flashes of earth's most mightiest heroes, of old friends, dead friends, missing ones.

Getting dragged back into that mess was asking for trouble.

Sipping on free alcohol, you flip through the packet of Robert “Bob” Reynolds. Sweet face, fucked past, and a far more fucked psyche for the powers he'd revealed in the last hit on New York.

Cursed, you decided by the end of your research, frowning as a picture slipped free. The New Avengers were definitely a ragtag group. Bucky was the only one you knew, Yelena you learned more than enough about through Nat digging around her head one time too many. Alexei Shostakov as well, but he was easy to pick apart at one glance. Anything revolving around Ava Starr and John Walker was rumors or passed down the grapevine.

Your phone vibrated. Checking it drew a deep line between your eyebrows. Someone was asking for another questioning, this time through the mind of a rampant serial killer in Chicago. They didn't have enough on him.

You leaned into your hands, sighing.

Across the block at a red-light, Bucky glanced at his phone and smiled as he read over the text.

“I need to meet him before I agree to this.”

The light flicked green.

The Watchtower was a shadow of the place you used to know. Repairs were still being made leaving people crawling on every floor but the top level had been finished for two weeks now, leaving the New Avengers with their shared space.

Bucky had promised the team would be out when you arrived, save for Bob. As it was quiet when the elevator door opened, you were glad to see he'd kept that promise.

“Welcome back,” he called, walking up.

“Which room did you snag?” you scoffed, eyeing the decor. Minimalist, neutral tones. Far greyer than the old room you remembered.

“The biggest.” He said it like it was obvious. Maybe it should've been.

Hearing movement, you both turned as a shadow passed by the windows. The hunched shoulders were a dead giveaway, soft eyes flittering between the floor and you as the young man stepped down.

Bob wore a dark blue sweater that drowned his figure and dark jeans. His hair was still a shaggy length and dark brown from the recent pictures you'd seen. By all accounts, he looked normal, but the anxiety flowed off him in waves that crashed against your head.

His mind extends way beyond others.

“Hi,” he greeted softly, clearing his throat. “You're, uh, Bucky's friend?”

You introduced yourself, stepping forward to offer your hand. He was quick to step back even across the room, body tensing.

“Wait, don't. I'm not sure if I—”

“When's the last time you transported someone into a shame room?”

The shock on his face had you glancing at Bucky for answers.

“Last week,” he said, crossing his arms. “Nothing super dangerous. Uncomfortable, but we get a lot of repeats so we break off easily enough.”

“Wait, so how much do you already know?” Bob asked, arms wrapping around himself.

“Enough,” you and Bucky respond.

Bob sighed, head nodding along as he turned away. “Great, guess that makes it easier.”

“I wouldn't say that; you're guarded now.” You moved closer, keeping your steps slow and your hands behind your back. Bob remained tense but didn't shy away. “Bucky called me here to see if I could help you, but I came here to see if you even want it.”

“Well, uh…” he swallowed, head bowing.

Do you want my help? His eyes flashed wide, breath catching as he looked up. You kept your expression neutral as you raised a brow. Do you? This will only work if you want to put in the effort.

“Can you see everything?”

You fought not to smile at the childish awe in his voice as it echoed back to you. I'm not looking. I'm listening.

A series of curses and panicked background commentary had you laughing.

I've heard and seen a lot. Honestly, don’t worry about it.

“That's easy for you to say,” Robert grumbled. “I cant control my thoughts like you can.”

“Would you like to?”

“It's not that I don't want your help,” he said, hands tangling into his sweater. “I just don't want to hurt anyone again. A lot of people… Some don't snap out of what I make them see. It's bad.”

“I have faith in my mental state,” you assured him. “Mental barriers, especially. I need to see just how powerful you are, though. Because if you get past mine, that means I'll be training you through trial and error. It's risky but it's not impossible.”

Bob looked to Bucky. “Do you think that's a good idea?”

Your old friend shrugged. “I brought her in because she's good at what she does. Whatever she wants to do, I have to trust it's the right decision.”

“I could hurt her!” Bob breathed and looked back to you. “I could hurt you really, really bad. Are you sure you know what you're signing up for?”

“I read through your files. I saw the extent of your powers and the aftermath of the accident,” you explained. “I'm prepared to help you with all things mental and psychic, but trust has to go both ways.”

You raised your hand again. He flinched, shuffling back.

“You want to help me now. What if that changes?” he whispers. “What if you see what it's really like and it scares you?”

“We won't know unless we try.” You took a step. Hand outstretched.

Bob looked at Bucky again, as if waiting to see if anyone would disagree. Whatever he searched for wasn't there.

He sighed and met your gaze. Pale blue eyes, you noted, with colors shifting around the pupil.

“Okay,” he nodded, holding up a shaky hand. The skin was bitten raw around his nails, skin dry but warm. The moment you felt it, there was a pressure against your mental shields. You could see the darkness clouding around you, searching for a way in, but you held firm.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, arm trembling as he stood there. His eyes were closed, head turned away.

You smiled, holding in a laugh as you used your other hand to grab his. “I'm fine, Bob. You're definitely powerful.”

“But you didn't see anything?” he said, eyeing where you were joined.

“I've had years to work on my mental barriers. You can't breach what doesn't have an entrance.” You squeezed his hand. “This is a really good sign. I'm going to have to let you in at some point to see just how potent your power is, but we'll work up to that.”

“You really don't see anything?” he whispered, hope rising in his expression as he searched your gaze.

“Just you,” you promised, unable to keep from smiling. “We'll have to work on your projection. Your thoughts are…loud.”

His face flushed red as he pulled away, sputtering an apology. There was some halfass excuse about the bathroom as he fled. Bucky stepped up to fill the empty space.

“What was he thinking?”

“None of your business,” you chuckled. “You got a guest room for me?”

But you had to admit you were flattered. Mens’ thoughts usually came up with the same descriptions for you at first glance. All your life you'd been met with disgusting thoughts and hateful opinions or plain “hot” and “sexy.”

This might've been the first time a man had ever thought of you as “radiant” before.

[prince-septimus]

calm mornings

pairing : robert reynolds x reader

summary : just two lonely people learning of a thing called affection.

word count : 1.5k

You find yourself staring at him often -- the man with the power of a thousand suns. Sometimes you have to remind yourself of the power he wields because when you see him occasionally sitting in the little corner he's created with books surrounding him and an overlook of New York to add on, you forget the events of a few months ago when the city fell to shadows.

When you see Bob now, all you see is the softness he carries with him, the comfort he brings even after years of not having it for himself. How could someone who has been through so much manage to continue on with such a soft heart?

You guessed the same could be said for the whole team. The ruined assassins who spent part of their lives being brainwashed and tortured. The super soldiers who never did quite reach their potential, and spent their entire lives dwelling on it. The experiments and the suffering and the darkness that the rest of you had endured. The whole team had that in common, and it was something you thought made you better than the Avengers.

The Thunderbolts were a family.

(You always were fond of the nickname, even after having to put that 'A' on your uniform.)

Maybe that's why you would find yourselves gathered late into the night, recapping missions and watching shitty 80s movies. Maybe that was what you all needed to keep the nightmares and dark thoughts away. You all had done bad things, unforgivable things, and yet you could still find yourselves together on a Saturday night fighting over who got the last slice of pizza and picked the next movie.

It was one of those nights you woke up early after. You had only been asleep for a few hours, but the weekends were sometimes a little more peaceful, almost like the job followed that weekday schedule you remembered from school. It was nice sometimes to get up early and drink coffee in a corner somewhere while the sun was still rising. Usually you were left alone during that time.

This morning you were not alone.

The coffee machine is still dripping the last dregs into the pot when you hear his quiet footsteps. The others had tried to convince you to get a better coffee pot -- one of the ones with a million buttons that made all sorts of espresso drinks and could add different things. You're sure that sort of appliance was here when the building belonged to Tony Stark, but you liked your tried and true, traditional pot. Even if it was a bit loud.

"Made enough for two?"

Bob's voice is still full of sleep. You wonder if he actually fell asleep or just dozed like he did sometimes. He had seemed tired towards the end of the last movie, after everyone had began to settle down, and you hoped that meant he at least got a good few hours in.

You smile gently at him as he pads over to lean against the counter. "I always make a full pot. You know that."

You hadn't bothered with the lights, preferring the soft glow that had started to enter the space as the sun began to rise beyond the windows. You enjoyed this time in the morning, when everything was still quiet and calm. You wondered if he preferred it too.

He leans over you to reach in the cabinet above, grabbing two mugs and setting them on the counter beside you. He looks cozy in his sweater and soft lounge pants, the thick socks on his feet silencing his movements on the floor -- though you wonder how he sleeps like that at night, the layers of fabric confining him in his sleep.

Maybe it makes him feel safe.

"Can you grab the creamer from the fridge?" you ask, beginning to fill each cup from the pot. You leave a bit of space in each mug for the added components you both enjoy.

Everything is so still as you watch Bob stroll across the kitchen, grabbing the required item before padding back towards you. He gives you a small smile as you finish off both cups of coffee before handing his to him.

He cradles it in his hands as he looks at you. "You're up early."

"I always am." You take a sip, careful not to burn your tongue. "Any bad dreams?"

He shakes his head. "The nightmares aren't as frequent now. It's been easier."

Your mind goes back to when all of you first moved into the tower. It was the easiest way to go about things, being listed as the New Avengers. You all were in close proximity when needed, and even though Bob currently didn't go on missions, he still was around and had his own room just like everyone else. He liked to keep the place put together and cleaned up when the rest of you didn't have the time to. He told you once that it was because he finally had the motivation to do it after years of being in a daze.

You had been to his room several times over the months. It had become almost as familiar as your own to you, with books covering every surface.

(Most of them finished, as Bob did not like to buy a new one until he finished the previous.)

The nightmares were immediate in the beginnings of Bob's stay. It didn't come as a surprise. All of you had your own demons, as proven by the Void months ago, but something told you being stuck in his nightmares was a whole different beast.

You didn't want him to go through that alone.

It had started slow, you keeping him company on those nights. You couldn't stop the nightmares, but you could offer a break from them, an ease of the conscious. At some point it had transitioned into the sleeping in the room together, still keeping each other company but finally taking advantage of that much needed sleep when you both felt it coming on.

Then it turned into sleeping in the same bed. That was after one really bad night. Neither of you were sure what brought the nightmares on so strongly, but they hit you both and you ended up in each other's arms, begging the bad dreams to leave you be.

Eventually they did, and eventually you never left.

It wasn't exactly a relationship -- you weren't sure either of you were ready to label it as such, or even fully address that as an option. The signs were there, very much so, cradled in those shared nights and castaway nightmares, but the trauma bond was clear and neither of you wanted to base your entire future off of that.

"I didn't notice you leave the bed."

You grin. "You never do. You sleep like a log when you're peaceful." Another sip. "But seriously, no bad dreams after I got up?"

Sometimes when you were away on missions and Bob found himself alone in the bed, those nightmares came back. Sometimes he'd call you. Sometimes he wouldn't.

"Nothing. It was nice."

His hair falls into his eyes when he dips his head down to take a drink from his mug. He had got it cut after everyone moved into the Tower, a small trim to hold him over and to appease everyone as his hair got just a bit too shaggy. You liked it -- the length on top and the short bits on the side -- and thought it suited him better than what he awoke with in that room where he had been stored away.

You reach up to run your hand through it, Bob leaning into your touch. Your fingers slide across his short curls, gently straightening the bed head out.

Bob reaches up to cradle your hand in his, moving it down to press a kiss to your palm.

The kisses were a more recent thing, a testing of the boundaries. You and Bob had both gone without a real sort of relationship for so long that a lot of things were practically a new thing, an experiment. It was a way for you both to see how far you wanted to take things, and so far neither of you had said to stop.

"Got plans today?" you ask, careful not to let your coffee spill in your grasp as you push against him, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear.

A soft smile just for you. "Nothing that involves going out anywhere."

You scoff. "You never go out anyway."

"Not ready for that just yet."

You pull softly on the hair at the nape of his neck. "Wanna go watch a movie?"

He leans to brush a kiss to your cheek. "That all you want to do?"

You let out a laugh, pulling back from him when his lips run across your ear. His free arm snakes behind you and pulls you back to him. A few drops of coffee splatter between the two of you. "There's always more we can be doing."

"Nothing we don't want to, of course."

You smile wide as his arm squeezes your waist. "Of course."

[casssmalefantasy]

baby, just tell me what to do - paige bueckers x reader!

s: paige is away for an away game. you’re long distance. when she calls you from the hotel, she sounds off—and then she asks for something she’s never asked for before.

w: phone sex, dom!reader, sub!paige, praise, dirty talk, masturbation, emotional vulnerability, long distance dynamic, smut

word count: 2.9k

she calls late.

like she always does after away games—win or lose. like she’s been doing ever since you started this long-distance thing. like she needs to hear your voice just to remember she’s still her. but this time, the second you pick up, you know something’s off.

“hi,” she says softly, voice low and quiet. almost unsure.

“hey, baby,” you say, already settling deeper into your bed, phone pressed to your ear. “you back at the hotel?”

“mmhm.”

“i watched the game,” you tell her gently. “you looked good out there.”

she doesn’t answer at first.

just exhales. it’s slow, shaky.

“i felt like shit,” she finally says. “nothing was falling. i couldn’t hit anything. my legs felt heavy. i kept thinking i’d snap out of it but it never happened.”

“but you won,” you remind her, soothing. “you hit the free throws that sealed it.”

“barely.” her voice cracks a little. “i don’t know. i just—i haven’t felt like myself on the court in a minute. it’s like… i know what i’m supposed to do, but my body’s not listening.”

you’re quiet for a second. you’ve heard this tone before—low, distant, and raw. she gets like this when she’s stuck in her head. especially on the road. especially without you.

“baby,” you say, gentle, “you’re allowed to have an off night. you still showed up for your team. you still pulled through.”

“but it didn’t feel good.” she says. “i felt like i wasn’t a leader tonight.”

you nod, even though she can’t see you.

“are you alone?”

“yeah,” she says. “rooming with kk, but she went to ice’s room to watch a movie.”

you hum softly. “did you shower?”

“yeah.”

“in bed?”

“mhmm. lights off.”

you let that settle. the quiet hum of the hotel AC filters through the phone. she sounds small. a little unsure.

“can i…” she pauses. then breathes out, barely above a whisper, “can i ask you for something?”

your heart beats a little harder. “anything.”

another pause. then, quieter than before:

“will you tell me what to do?”

your breath catches. “what kind of… tell you what to do?”

“like—” she exhales hard. “like how i do to you when we’re together in bed. i just… i need something to take me out of my head. please.”

you blink, and your entire body goes warm. because she’s never asked for this—not like this. not when she’s away and missing you. not when she sounds this wrecked and soft and needy.

“are you touching yourself?” you ask quietly.

“not yet,” she whispers.

“take off your shirt.”

you hear the faint rustle of fabric. the shift of blankets. her breath, already heavier.

“it’s off.”

“and your shorts.”

more movement. the softest little whine when she kicks them off.

“okay,” she says, a little shakier.

“good girl,” you murmur, and she whimpers.

“fuck,” she breathes. “say it again.”

“you’re such a good girl for me, paige,” you whisper, voice low and firm. “you always listen so well. especially when you need me.”

you can hear her squirming, breath shaky already.

“slide your hand down,” you tell her. “slow. are you wet yet?”

“yeah,” she whispers, sounding a little embarrassed. “i was from the second i heard your voice.”

“let me hear,” you murmur.

there’s a pause. then the faintest sound of her fingers slipping between her folds, the wet noise soft and obscene.

“fuck,” you whisper. “just like that, baby. circle your clit for me.”

“my god. fuck.” paige says getting a little louder.

“that feel good?”

“so good,” she whimpers. “feels even better when you say it.”

you smile, heart pounding.

“i know, baby. i know how to get you there.”

you wait until her breathing gets heavier—until you hear the tiniest little gasp that tells you she’s getting close already, all worked up and desperate just from your voice.

“slip two fingers in,” you say gently. “nice and slow.”

she groans low. “fuck baby. they’re in.”

“deeper, baby.”

you can hear the way she fucks herself with her fingers, slow and messy. every little moan she tries to muffle, every breath she catches in her throat.

“wish i was there,” you murmur, “i’d get on my knees for you. pull your shorts off and spread your legs open so i can taste you slow until you’re begging for me.”

“oh my god.” she gasps.

“you’d grip my hair and beg for more. wouldn’t even have to tell me. i know your body too well. know exactly how you like it.”

“please,” she whimpers. “please, keep talking baby.”

“you’d be so sensitive,” you whisper. “so needy. i’d eat your pussy so slow you’d be shaking, and then fuck you with my fingers while i suck your clit.”

“i’m so close.” she says desperately.

“don’t cum yet.”

she whines, a broken, desperate sound.

“please, baby i can’t-”

“no, baby,” you murmur. “not until i say. pull your fingers out right now.”

she lets out a choked breath, so full of ache it makes you clench your thighs together.

“you’re being so good for me,” you whisper. “doing everything i say. i’m so proud of you.”

she moans, high and breathless. you can hear her thighs shifting, like she’s trying not to grind into the sheets.

“put your hand on your stomach,” you say. “breathe.”

you wait while she does. listen to her come down just a little.

“you’re okay,” you tell her. “i’ve got you.”

“i wanna cum so bad,” she whispers.

“you will, baby, but when i say.”

she nods against the phone, quiet and obedient and desperate for you.

“you’re such a good girl for me,” you murmur. “so sweet. so perfect. even when you’re having a rough game. even when you don’t feel like yourself. you’re still mine. still my girl.”

“i’m yours,” she whispers.

“i know. now put your fingers back in.”

you hear her gasp, sharp and soft.

“fuck. it feels so good baby.”

“go slow, baby. fuck yourself deep. curl your fingers like i do.”

she moans—long, loud, and helpless. you press your own thighs together, biting your lip.

“faster now,” you say gently. “you’re doing so good. such a pretty girl fucking herself just how i tell her to.”

“i’m gonna cum baby. please can i? please?”

“yes, baby,” you say. “cum for me.”

she gasps, falling apart on the other end of the phone. her moans are high and wrecked, every sound louder than she means it to be, like she can’t hold them in. you listen to her fall to pieces—your name on her lips, breath stuttering, hand working between her thighs until she’s whining, overstimulated and trembling in the hotel bed.

“fuck,” she pants. “oh my god. i needed that so bad.”

“i know, baby,” you whisper. “you did so good for me.”

“i feel like i can breathe again.”

“good. that’s what i wanted.”

there’s a pause. then a sleepy, sheepish little laugh.

“you’re… really good at that.”

“only for you,” you murmur, smiling. “now clean yourself and get under the covers. i’ll stay on the phone.”

she hums. “will you talk me to sleep?”

“always.”

and she falls asleep with you whispering sweet things in her ear, soft and low. your voice grounding her. calming her. reminding her who she is, even on the off nights. even far away.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

The Hoodoo Apprentice

Summary: Amelia packed her things and took a train to Clarksdale Mississippi to reunite with an old friend, Annie. Annie promised she’d teach Amelia the art of Hoodoo. After a month, Smoke and Stack return with a plan to open a Juke Joint.

Warnings: SMUT

Part Two

Elijah ‘Smokes’ truck rolled to a stop. He cut the engine, taking a moment to finish his cigarette before he entered the home he shared with Annie. He could smell her cooking from where he sat, mouth watering. He missed good ‘ol southern cooking, more specifically his wife’s cooking. Smoke tossed his cigarette bud and grabbed a bouquet of flowers that he purchased from Bo Chow before climbing out of his truck. Walking around to the back of the truck, he lifted the tarp and grabbed a wooden crate filled with Irish Beer and Italian Wine.

Smoke made the short walk to the house, ascending the front porch steps before sitting the crate down to open the door. He needed this. No more running away from his problems. He craved his wife in ways he couldn’t put into words. Smoke had a lot of making up to do, and he was a man of action and very few words.

Smoke could hear Ma Rainey playing from a phonograph in the drawing room. He went to let himself in but paused when he’d heard sensual laughter and soft moans. His body moved from the door, down the steps, and around towards the back of the house. He crept stealthily, slowing down when he’d heard his wife’s name in a voice laced with lust…

One hour before:

Amelia held a woven basked against her left hip while she picked a bundle of collards for dinner. Her curly ringlets swept over her face annoyingly. She blew hair from her lips after grabbing the last bit of collards. Amelia makes her way back to the house. She climbed the back steps and through the screen door.

Inside, Amelia looked at Annie who was busy preparing the catfish for frying.

“Got the collards. I’ll go wash ‘em.”

Annie held Amelia’s gaze, “Thank you, Lia.”

Amelia started rinsing the collards off. Annie found herself caught in a trance. Amelia was situated on her knees in front of a bucket of water on the back porch. The motion of Amelia’s hands. The way her curly auburn hair reminded her of cascading stems, twisted leaves, and red, lipstick-shaped flowers.

Annie broke the silence, “Busy day at the shop today.”

“Sure was. Made a good profit too.” Amelia replied.

“…Whatcha think of Smoke?”

Amelia wasn’t expecting that question from Annie. She glanced up through her lashes at her.

“He scares you?” Annie questioned.

Amelia gave Annie a half shrug, “I—He’s a little scary.”

Annie giggled, “A little?”

“He’s a gangster, Annie. Scary comes wit’ the job.” Amelia jokes.

“Smoke is tough, but deep, real deep…he’s a softy.”

Amelia smirked, “Sounds to me you’re his safe space.”

Annie finished prepping the catfish and checked on the frying oil. Amelia brought in the clean collards. Annie situated herself beside Amelia, helping her cut the collards. Amelia stole glances at Annie. Smoke’s coming back did affect Amelia. Ways she never imagined.

“Is this his favorite meal?” Amelia asked.

“Smoke love him some catfish and collards. Throw in some skillet cornbread you got ya’ self a sappy man. Feed him good and put his head between my bosom.”

Amelia laughed lightheartedly. She bumped her hip into Annie’s and Annie reclined her head against Amelia’s shoulder.

“He strikes me as a breast man—”

Amelia stopped herself from talking. She caught Annie smiling at her warmly. Visuals played over and over in her head of the way Smoke sucked on Annie’s bountiful breasts. Like he wanted to fit his entire mouth around all that heaviness.

“He an all up on me man…every inch of me.” Annie spoke with intensity.

Amelia was witnessing in real time the beautiful bond between them. A bond so strong.

“The way he looks at you, it’s just so…so…”

Amelia studied Annie’s face as she tried to convey her feelings.

“…So inspiring.”

Annie’s eyes fell to Amelia’s lips.

“…You saw us havin’ sex…didn’t you?”

Amelia turned away from Annie. She tried to think of a way to respond to her. Too embarrassed to admit it.

“It wasn’t my intention, Annie—I just…”

Annie’s hand pressed against Amelia’s back. Amelia peered into Annie’s eyes. The hand on her back dragged down to her hip and she found herself flesh against Annie. Just like she did Smoke in that Shack, Annie’s lips latched onto Amelia’s ear. Amelia held onto the wash basin to steady herself. Annie’s skillful lips kissing and nibbling on her ear made her legs all wobbly.

“…thing is, I saw ya’ watching, Amelia…I saw ya’ fingering my pussy…”

“Did Smoke—”

“Smoke don’t know nothin’.”

Annie forced Amelia to look at her with a tight hold on her jaw, so tight her lips puckered.

“What happened between us last night…I’ve been fightin’ all damn day to keep from touching ya’. Truth is…I can’t stop…and I won’t stop…”

Amelia melted. Annie stroked her pouty lips with her thumb before sinking it into Amelia’s mouth. Amelia sucked on Annie’s thumb, eyes closed, soft whimpers filling the room. Annie’s thumb slipped away, leaving behind a trail of spit.

“I–I can’t stop daydreaming ‘bout it, Annie. I want ya’ to taste me again…”

Amelia extended a hand and stroked Annie’s cheek with her fingertips. She got up on Annie, breast to breast, and slammed her lips into hers feverishly. The sound of frying oil popping and the insects of the night mingled with smacking lips and soft moans.

Annie groped Amelia’s thick behind through her dress.

“Fuck,” Amelia tongued Annie’s lips, “Let’s go to the room, look how wet I am for you…”

Amelia grabbed Annie’s left hand and snaked it between her legs. Annie stroked Amelia’s pussy through her panties. Soaking wet heat. Annie attacked Amelia’s neck while her fingers pinched her clit through the satin material.

Immediately, Annie could feel her own pussy cat dripping. She wanted so bad to bend Amelia over the wash basin, lift the back of her dress, and ravish her cooze until she cried. Cried for Annie to keep going, cried after each orgasm. Cried like a good little bitch.

Annie needed to stop. If she didn’t, she’d have to eat Amelia on every surface in that house.

“We gotta get this food cooking…”

Annie broke away from Amelia reluctantly. Amelia’s chest heaved up and down. She thumbed away spit from her bottom lip. Annie was right, Smoke could be here any minute. Annie started frying the catfish and Amelia busied herself with the collards. Still, she craved more from Annie.

Sneaky glances, bumping into each other, soft blues with its melancholy instrumental circulating throughout the small home, no matter how hard they tried, neither one of them could resist. Amelia swayed her hips to the rhythm, stirring the pot of collards just the same. Annie had just finished cooking all the catfish and now she was working on the skillet cornbread.

“Shit…”

Amelia glanced over at Annie mixing the cornbread batter. Some of the batter spilled over her hand and fell to the floor. Amelia watched Annie reach for a towel, but before she could use it to wipe her hand clean, Amelia appeared by her side, capturing Annie’s fingers in her mouth.

Annie was paralyzed with lust.

“Amelia…”

Her finger slipped from between Amelia’s pouty lips with a wet pop, “don’t want all that good batter to go to waste.”

Annie’s clit ached.

Amelia trailed Annie’s spit–covered finger down her neck until she circled it around her protruding nipples. Annie’s eyes glossed over with arousal at the sensation of Amelia’s stiff, brown nipples prominently visible through her khaki dress.

“Lia…they so hard…”

Annie regained control of her hands. She cupped Amelia’s breasts and caressed them in a circular motion. Amelia jutted her chest out for more, extending her neck and throwing her head back.

Annie exhales, “You so beautiful, Lia. So soft…so delicious…”

“Not as soft and sweet as you, Annie…”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Amelia stared deeply into her eyes, “A big, beautiful woman.”

She couldn’t take it anymore.

Buttons undone, Annie smoothed the opening of the khaki dress from Amelia’s satiny, chestnut skin. Her cup bra gave her melons extra lift, fleshy mounds like soft pillows. One by one, Annie released a breast, and she caved at the sight of Amelia’s wrinkled areola and hardened nipples.

Annie wasted no time flicking her tongue over each bud with speed. She circled her arms around Amelia’s waist and made love to her nipples with her teeth, lips, and tongue. Amelia chewed on the corner of her bottom lip, watching Annie move back and forth between each breast. She picked it up a notch and spit on her nipples before tweaking them.

“Annie, I’m so sticky between my legs…you’re making me so weak…” Amelia cooed.

Annie tugged on Amelia’s nipples while sucking on her neck.

“I bet that fat pussy is nice and messy…I know it taste good…”

Amelia whimpered when Annie went back to sucking her nipples. Annie forced one hand down the front of Amelia’s dress and wiggled her hand into her panties.

Annie popped a titty from her mouth, “Damn, wasn’t lying about how sticky you are…c’mon, quick…”

Annie quickly helped Amelia out of her dress and panties. She guided her to the back porch and pushed her down onto a chaise. Amelia didn’t have time to spread her legs and bring her feet up because Annie beat her to it.

“You seein’ this?” Annie questioned with a quiver.

Amelia dropped her hooded eyes down between her thighs. She couldn’t believe how soaked her folds are. Like a succulent storing water. Annie didn’t waste another minute. She smacked her lips and suckled Amelia’s pussy with urgency.

“You needed this pussy in ya’ mouth again look how good ya’ eating it, Annie…”

Amelia palmed Annie’s head. Annie strummed her clit with the tip of her tongue.

“Fuuuck…oh, shit,” Amelia moans, “Annie…Annie…Annie…”

Annie’s magical hands shoved Amelia’s thighs back to open her up more. She slurped and lapped at her pussy lips and deeper. Not once did she come up for air. Annie dragged her nails down the back of Amelia’s thighs.

“I’m finna’ cum…”

Amelia stuck two fingers in her mouth to suppress her cries of pleasure. Annie sucked her clit like she was sucking the sweetest juices off. Amelia closed her thighs around Annie’s head.

Smoke remained in the shadows of the Mississippi night and surrounded by evergreen. He had a tight grip on the flowers he’d gotten for Annie. Smoke watched with a twitch of his eyes. Perfectly round and perfectly shaped breasts with brown nipples bounced back and forth. The face of his wife hidden between buttery smooth thighs. The sound of a tongue and the smell of pussy.

His muscles were stiff. Obsidian eyes unblinking. The sharpness of his jaw clenched. Smoke felt all the blood in his veins rush to his dick. Amelia’s face caught the light of the night and it was whimsical. She stroked Annie’s hair affectionately while riding her tongue.

Smoke sensed it. He had a good feeling that Amelia and Annie were fooling around. Now that his suspicions were confirmed, he didn’t know how to handle the way his body felt. A mixture of lust and envy. Lust for the both of them. Lust to taste Amelia off of his wife’s tongue. Lust to join.

Envy because what’s his is on her knees bringing another woman to climax. Envy because whatever they shared, he wanted a piece of. Smoke’s free hand grabbed onto his thick print and squeezed. Tweed material itched his palm. Fuck, he couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. Fuck, he wanted to release his big dick and play with it. The desperation lining his face and the way his tongue smoothed over his teeth, these women sent shockwaves of pleasure through him.

“Annie! I’m cummin’ for you!”

Smoke’s nostrils flared.

“Cum for me, good girl!” Annie praised.

Smoke couldn’t believe the way his dick bulged out.

There was soft laughter followed by Annie surfacing with a wet face and brown eyes drunk with arousal. Amelia cupped her face and flicked her tongue with Annie’s.

“Thank you for that,” Annie kissed Amelia.

“Always,” Amelia spoke against her lips.

They both stood and Annie helped Amelia with her dress. Smoke tip toed away from the yard and pressed his back against the side of the house. He rocked his head back, glancing up at the starry sky. The throb in his dick and balls wouldn’t go away. Kissing his teeth, he drew another cigarette and lit it. His hands shook slightly as he brought it to his full lips.

Amelia.

Her beauty reminded him of a fairy. Something ethereal and magical. Hypnotic. He’d felt it immensely the moment he laid eyes on her. Whatever it is, Annie was under her spell. He’d never known his wife to enjoy some pussy. He had to get himself together before he walked into that house. Shouldn’t be so hard, especially for a gangster with a reputation for violence.

Smoke remained outside for another ten minutes before making his way to the front of the house. He climbed the stairs and twisted the door knob. The door swung open with a creak.

Annie was busy in the kitchen while Amelia plates the table. She wore a different dress, a brightly colored floral dress with a lace–trimmed collar and sleeves. Her long, curly hair was styled in a chic and classic updo with pins. Smoke could tell it was a rush job, because some of the curls framed her face. Amelia’s eyes flicked to Smoke.

Annie looked radiant. She changed into a crushed velvet, dark green dress with chandelier earrings that matched. Her heels click–clacked against the floor boards. Amelia bent over to pick up a cloth that had fallen and the way her backside spread beneath her dress, Smoke’s dick pressed painfully against the seam of his pants. Annie caught his eye and she smiled brightly before making her way over to him. She was wearing her good bra. Those big titties bounced with each step she took.

Smoke gave her a faint smile, holding up the bouquet of flowers. Annie pressed a hand against her bosom and pouted her bottom lip.

“Smoke, these are beautiful!”

Annie accepted the flowers and puckered her lips for a kiss.

“They’re so pretty, Annie,” Amelia said with an elated voice.

Smoke accepted a kiss and then he slipped Annie some tongue. Annie tried to pull away but Smoke placed one strong hand on the back of her neck to keep her tongue in his mouth. The sweet twang of Amelia’s pussy still lingered. Smoke groaned in Annie’s mouth.

Amelia watched them intently while placing silverware on the table. She was absorbed in their intimacy. Smoke caught her eye, staring at her with intensity. Amelia broke her gaze and stroked hair from her face.

He growled.

“Behave,” Annie swatted his bicep, “Dinner is ready. Go clean ya’ hands first.”

Annie turned and Smoke tracked her hips with his eyes.

“Cut all that switchin’ out for I give our guest here a lil’ show.”

That seemed to peak Amelia’s interest. She tried to conceal a smile behind her hand.

“Down, boy,” Annie eyed Smoke up and down.

“Ain’t no boy…”

Smoke tried to stick his fingers in the cornbread. Annie slapped his hand away.

“Go wash ya’ hands, Elijah!”

Smoke pecked Annie’s cheek.

He disappeared to the wash basin.

“Bring anymore wine?” Annie asked.

“Did. It’s on the porch. I’ll go grab some—”

“I got it, Smoke. While you finish washin’ ya’ hands?”

Amelia appeared next to him with an eager smile. Smoke had to collect himself from getting lost in those doe eyes fringed with long lashes.

The very eyes his wife got lost in with a mouth full of pussy.

“Uh, no need, doll. They heavy…”

Smoke wiped his hands on a towel and slipped past Amelia, catching a whiff of her perfume.

Sweet like peaches.

Smoke eyed the table set up, noticing only three plates.

“Shit, forgot to tell ya’ll Stack comin’.”

“No biggie. I’ll put a plate out for ‘em.” Annie replied.

Smoke walked over the threshold and picked up the wooden crate filled with wine and beer. Amelia set up a place for Stack. She walked over to grab an extra chair, but Smoke picked it up before she could. Amelia looked up at him.

“No need, let a man do it.” Smoke said.

“‘Course,” Amelia sauntered back to the table.

Smoke grabbed a bottle of wine.

I’ll put it in the icebox. I know how much you like it chilled.”

Annie brought the food over on serving trays.

Knock knock knock

The door opened.

“Look what the cat dragged in!” Annie said with a laugh.

Amelia’s eyes danced between both men.

Staring at them both, she could tell they were physically identical.

This Stack man just entered the home with a jovial smile filled with deep dimples and golds on his teeth. His eyes sparkled with mischief and foolery.

Amelia gawked at him.

But…their personalities…their auras…vastly different.

Stack removed his red fedora.

“Annie! Sup witcha, woman?!”

“Stack.” Annie said with a smile.

She opened her arms and Stack hugged her tightly.

“Big bro,” Stack dabbed Smoke before pulling him in for a one–armed hug. They did a slick handshake and glided back into a snap, “Woooo, good to see ya’.”

“Just saw ya’ earlier,” Smoke said.

Stack took off his suit jacket and hung it on a coat rack near the front door. His playful, lively eyes fell on Amelia.

Amelia gave Stack a shy wave. Stack strode forward, dapper gait drawing her in.

“Well, well,” Stack nibbled on the toothpick between his teeth and dragged his eyes over Amelia’s frame from head to toe with a tilt of his head, “Who this here, Annie?”

“My friend, Amelia,” Annie’s arm circled Amelia’s waist, “She came all this way from New Orleans to work wit’ me. I’m teachin’ her all I know about hoodoo.”

“She talk?” Stack questions with his brows pinched together and a twitch of his upper lip.

Smoke chuckled low, shaking his head at his brothers antics, “Chill now, Stack.”

“I’m only askin’.”

Stack held his hand out in greeting. Amelia eyed his hand with a slight lift of her brow before extending her hand with the back facing up. Stack wrapped his fingers around her.

“Amelia, huh?

“That’s right.”

Stack pushed the toothpick between his teeth to the side of his mouth. Cute little voice. Sounding like a princess in those fairytales.

“So, you do talk?”

Stack removed his toothpick and leaned in. With her hand still within his grasp, Stack puckered his plump lips and pecked Amelia’s hand like a true gentleman.

“Nice to meet ya’ gorgeous. Hope the Delta treatin’ you right.”

“Is. Thanks to Annie.”

Amelia smiled brightly. Stack stroked the back of her hand with his thumb before finally letting her go. Amelia fiddled with her fingers, darting her eyes away bashfully before swaying over to the table.

Smoke caught his brother’s eye.

Annie cleared her throat.

“Oh, let me clean these hands off.” Stack said.

He walked past the table, rubbing his hands together and licking his lips at the sight of all the food. Smoke pulled out Annie’s chair, and with one hand he pulled out Amelia’s chair. She curtsied before taking her seat. Stack finally joined them, unbuttoning the sleeves to his white shirt and rolling them up his forearms.

“Catfish, collard greens, cornbread, DAMN.”

They each took turns filling their plates.

“Amelia cooked the collards,” Annie shot her friend a look followed by a smile.

“Did she now? Let’s see what we got here…”

Stack and Smoke forked the collards in unison, not even realizing it. Amelia’s eyes danced between them with fascination. Smoke chewed slowly, eyes fixed on Amelia. Stack chewed with his eyes closed, shook his head, followed by a hum of delight.

“Baby girl…you put ya’ foot in this! Gahdamn…”

Annie nudged Amelia with her elbow. Amelia beamed.

Smoke nodded his head before scraping the side of his upper teeth with his tongue.

“They good, Amelia. Real good.”

Amelia twirled the fork in her hand with pride.

“Thank you, Smoke,” She glanced over at his twin, “Stack���”

“Forgot the wine…”

Smoke stood.

“You put a beer in there, Smoke?!”

“I gotcha,” Smoke continued out onto the front porch to grab the drinks.

Stack scarfed down the collards first, fork scraping the plate. Smoke returned and opened the wine, pouring the ladies two glasses full. He unscrewed the cap on the beer for Stack, sliding it across the table where his twin brother caught it with precision.

“Everythang alright, Annie?” Stack asked.

“Better,” Annie locked eyes with her husband, “happy you two made it back in one piece.”

Smoke cut into his catfish with his fork. He added a little hot sauce to it.

“I bet Chicago is nice,” Amelia chimed in, “skyscrapers, broadway…”

“Look nice. Still just the same as the south.” Stack said.

“Did you two stop by to see Sammie?” Annie asked.

Smoke nodded his head, “He good. Still got that guitar we gave ‘em. Daddy doin’ right by ‘em.”

Amelia nibbled on her cornbread drizzled with honey and butter. Stack cleared his plate and sat back to enjoy his beer. He couldn’t help but stare at Amelia. She could feel his eyes on her, looking across the table at him with a piece of cornbread between her fingers and hovering over her pouty lips.

“Amelia. Got a last name?” Stack questions.

“Broussard.”

“Pretty…”

Amelia coaxed the piece of cornbread into her mouth with her tongue. Stack continued to lay on the charm with his deep dimples and attentive eyes. He took a swig of beer as he stared down Amelia like she was the only person who existed.

Smoke glanced between the two of them, fingers digging into his pocket for a cigarette. He grabbed his last one and lit it. Annie sipped her wine and smiled at her husband. Smoke caught her looking and winked at her. Annie placed her hand on his thigh, caressing it.

“We never crossed paths?” Stack questioned Amelia with an expression of betrayal.

“No, Stack,” Amelia giggled genuinely, “Never.”

“You sure,” Stack pointed at her with a finger decorated with a gold ring, “Damn shame. Can’t believe this my first time seeing ya’. Annie, you been keepin’ her to ya’ self?”

Annie gave Stack a coy smile and then locked eyes with Amelia. Both of them looked away quickly, but Smoke was paying attention. He knew everything. She definitely is keeping Amelia to herself. Smoke leaned in to whisper in Annie’s ear.

“You got explaining to do later, baby…”

Annie cocked her head back and dropped her eyes to Smoke’s lips.

“Not as much explaining as you do, Smoke.” She quipped with a roll of her eyes.

Stack filled Amelia’s mason jar with more wine.

“Thank you kindly.”

“Anytime…”

Stack swept his hands down the front of his chest slowly, Amelia shyly pulled her attention to the last bit of food on her plate.

She loved Stack’s energy.

It excites her.

Some time passed and Duke Ellington Orchestra filled the drawing room. While Annie perched her big booty on Smoke’s lap, Stack twirled Amelia around like a merry go round, her dress spinning as she moved. Stack could jive! Amelia grabbed both of his hands and flailed her legs, laughed at Stack’s silly faces, and shook her hips.

Annie tapped her foot to the music. Smoke bobbed his head. Annie’s gyrating in his lap awoke the beast. He looked up at her. Annie felt him poking her rump. She picked up the pace of her hips, teasing him more.

“Annie…”

“What? You sticking me in the ass wit’ that dick.”

“Keep movin’ on me I can’t help it.” Smoke whispered.

“I felt that,” Annie was referring to Smoke making his dick jump, “Elijah…”

There was warning in her voice.

Stack exhaled, wiping sweat from his grow. Amelia fanned herself. Stack held Amelia’s waist as they swayed, hips pressed to each other’s and twin smiles on their faces.

“You the best fuckin’ dancer I ever seen.” Stack said.

“Aren’t you sweet,” Amelia bopped Stack on the nose with her finger, “And you a good time.”

“I try. Gotta make the most outta life with all the other bullshit goin’ on.” Stack replied.

Amelia snaked her arms around Stack’s shoulders.

“You got the sweetest eyes…mind if I call you Princess?”

Amelia chewed on her bottom lip and smoothed her hands down Stack’s chest.

“How much Irish beer you drank?” Amelia asked with a teasing smile, “that liquor got you sweet on me.”

“Not enough,” Stack peeled away from Amelia, “Let me grab some mo’!”

Amelia shook her head at Stack.

Smoke and Annie were dancing now. Amelia took a seat to cool off and removed her shoes. She massaged her left heel and flexed her toes painted red. Stack sought her out and took a seat next to her with a new beer. He slouched in his seat and swung his legs.

Smoke and Annie shared a passionate kiss in the middle of a slow waltz.

Amelia moved her hands up the back of her legs while flexing her ankles. Stack’s eyes were focused on her movements, studying her pretty toes.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer,” Amelia teased.

“I’d take pictures of you any day. I got a camera back home.”

“So, photography ya’ hobby when you ain’t robbing banks and trains?”

Stack smirked with a single dimple.

“Sum’ like that. Whatchu like to do?”

Amelia pondered, “Reading. I love escaping from reality. Picture myself in a castle in the tallest tower…or going on an adventure…or falling in love…”

Stack studied Amelia. His beer was halfway through.

“We all need a lil’ break from the real, ya’ know?” Stack said.

“Yeah,” Amelia nudged Stack’a shoulder, “If ya’ ever need a good book to read, I’m ya’ girl.”

Stack licked his lips, “I’ll hold you to it, Princess.”

Stack and Smoke shared a cigarette on the front porch while talking closely to each other.

Annie and Amelia had just finished cleaning up. Amelia yawned into her hand. She felt lightweight and relaxed from all the wine.

“Had fun tonight?” Annie asked.

“It was wonderful, Annie. Best time in a long while.”

Amelia wiped her hands off with a towel while staring at the twins in deep concentration.

“Ya’ like Stack?”

Amelia looked at Annie, “He’s a good time. And he’s handsome.”

Annie glanced towards the door. Smoke and Stack had their backs turned. Annie slithered her way over to Amelia, dropping her head to her ear to whisper.

“Careful wit’ ‘em Moore men. They’ll turn your world upside down.”

Annie’s warm breath ghosted across Amelia’s cheek. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She kept her eyes forward.

“And it’s been a while since Nathaniel had ya’ right?”

Amelia clenched her thighs together.

Annie pecked Amelia on the cheek.

“Get you some rest. I’ll see ya’ in the morning.”

“Night, Annie.” Amelia said.

Annie disappeared into her room. Smoke heard the door shut and walked back inside followed by Stack. Stack shut the door behind him. Both men stared at Amelia. Smoke with an unreadable expression and Stack with a flirty smile. She looked away before heading to her room.

“I see ya’ later brother—”

“No, no, no. It’s late stay here.”

“I be aight—”

“Stack. Keep yo’ ass here, understand? Ya’ had too much to drink.”

Stack kissed his teeth, “Then where I’m a sleep, fool? On this hard as floor? In the truck? In your room—”

“Nigga—”

“You can sleep in my room.”

Smoke and Stack looked down at Amelia.

“There’s extra blankets and a pillow.”

“Hm,” Smoke eyed Amelia from head to toe, “See? Now ya’ got an excuse to stay.”

Smoke tapped Stack’s shoulder before backing away to his room. He left his twin brother and Amelia standing there.

Stack was wearing his white button shirt tucked into his pinstriped slacks. The first few buttons on his shirt were undone. A chain hung from his neck with a tiny medallion. The same one Smoke wore.

“Well,” Stack ushered Amelia towards the room with his hand, “Lead the way, Princess.”

Amelia took slow strides towards the room. Inside, she grabbed extra blankets and one of the pillows from the bed.

“Aye, I got this,” Stack piled the blankets on the floor with the pillow, “I’ll give ya’ a second to change.”

Stack left the room and shut the door. Amelia opened the wardrobe in the room and picked out a lavender chemise with a matching robe. She undressed quickly, slipping on the chemise.

“Stack, you can come in,” Amelia climbed into bed.

The door opened and Stack peeked inside.

“All decent, Princess?”

“Yes,” Amelia slipped beneath the sheets.

Stack walked in, took off his shoes, and his shirt. Amelia chewed on her lip while her eyes swept over Stack’s burly frame. Bulging biceps, a thick yet toned torso, defined pecs. Stack tossed his shirt over a chair in the room and lowered to the floor. He was lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. Amelia turned off the kerosene lamp, bathing the room in mostly darkness.

“Goodnight, Stack.” Amelia said.

“Sweet dreams, Princess.”

On the other side of the house, Annie watched her husband strip down to his underwear, the fabric of his boxer shorts riding up his well–muscled thighs. His mojo bag sat between his pecs along with a necklace that mirrored Stacks. He tied a pressing cap over his hair to make the brush wave style Stack did last longer.

Annie wore a champagne–colored night gown that left little support for her large and heavy breasts, but it was breathable. Her hair was wrapped in a white scarf. Smoke sat on the edge of the bed. Annie got onto her knees behind him, massaging his shoulders.

“What explaining I gotta do, Elijah?” Annie asked.

Smoke shut his eyes and licked his lips with one swipe of his tongue.

“You sure Amelia just your Hoodoo apprentice, baby?”

Annie huffed, “What? Whatchu mean?”

“Ya’ know what I mean, Annie.”

Annie paused.

“…Smoke…”

Smoke looked up at Annie over his shoulder. Annie couldn’t hold his gaze.

“…How you find out?” Annie questioned with a tremble of her voice.

Smoke didn’t respond right away.

“I heard ya’ name, baby. I heard her moaning ya’ name. Then I saw it…I saw you tongue deep in her cooze…”

Annie’s eyes darted to the floor. She slipped her hands away and sat back on her knees. Smoke stood from the bed, facing her.

“How many times?”

Smoke folded his arms over his chest.

Annie shut her eyes slow.

“Three.” She revealed.

Smoke cocked his head.

“You fuck her three times, Annie?”

“Yes…I did,” Annie fiddled with her fingers, “It just—”

“I neva knew you to cheat on me, let alone wit’ a woman?”

Smoke shook his head in disbelief.

What Annie did next surprised him.

She laughed. Smoke furrowed his brows.

“Oh, Elijah,” Annie shook her head between laughs, “You left me for seven years. What did you think I was gon’ do?”

“I came back to you! I love you!” Smoke fired back.

He lowered his voice.

“Stop. Just stop it, Smoke. Ya’ like it.”

“Huh?” Smoke curled his top lip.

“Ya’ heard me. That’s why ya’ kissed me like that before dinner. Ya’ wanted to taste her.”

Smoke shifted his head and shoulders.

“I coulda’ put a root on that dick but I didn’t. Don’t stand there all tough and shit. I know you.”

Annie stood, walking up to Smoke. She got in his face with her hands on her hips.

“Say it. Ya’ like it.” Annie pressed.

“Annie—”

Annie cut him off, “Ya’ wanna play games, I can play wit ya’. Admit to it, ya’ liked seeing me eat her pussy…ya’ liked the way she reacted to it…ya’ like me being wit’ another woman.”

Smoke growled. He wasn’t trying to give in. Annie pressed up on him, never backing down, eyes glued to his.

“Say. It. Nigga.” Annie pressed with sass.

Smoke clenched his jaw. Annie lowered her searing gaze down between her husband’s legs. She almost whimpered. Thick dick twisted to the side in his boxer shorts and poking out the bottom. A big dick.

“…Fine,” Smoke stared her in the eyes, “Yeah. Yeah. I liked it.”

Annie tilted her head, “Wasn’t so hard, now…was it?”

Smoke clenched his shaky hands.

“Shit,” Smoke glared at Annie, “The way you looked…”

Annie placed her hand on Smoke’s chest. She glided it down his body until she was cuffing his dick. It seemed to pulsate in her hand. Annie curled her fingers around his shaft through his boxer shorts. Smoke worried his brows and parted his full lips.

“How did I look, Papa?” Annie whispered seductively.

“So sexy…”

Smoke grabbed Annie’s face and pressed his lips against hers. Their tongues swirled in a sloppy manner. Smoke lowered the straps to her night gown and Annie pulled his boxer shorts down until it fell around his ankles. Smoke stepped out of them, standing before Annie in all his naked glory.

“You actin’ all upset. For what?”

Annie dropped to her knees. Smoke’s big dick was pointed out and curved to the left. Annie looked up at her husband and then wrapped a warm hand around him, stroking him with a twist of her wrist.

“Alls you had to do was be real wit’ me, Elijah.”

Annie tongued the pre cum from his tip. Smoke placed his hands on Annie’s shoulders. He bowed his head to watch her, bottom lip wedged between his teeth.

“You know I’m right,” Annie dragged her tongue along the side of his shaft, “Don’t ya’?”

“Yeah,” Smoke licked his lips, “Stop teasing me, baby…”

Annie wrapped her lips around Smoke’s big dick and fit him all the way down her throat. Annie began sucking, down to the base and back to the tip. She tightened her jaws and rolled her neck to get a good rhythm. Smoke groaned deeply, hand on Annie’s head. Smoke tilted her head back a little so he could fuck her throat with slow, deliberate strokes.

“Fuck, Annie…deep throat on you…”

She was sucking on his pipe and looking him dead in his eyes.

Annie’s sucking made loud, wet sounds and left saliva all over her chin down to her chest.

“Damn,” Smoke could cum from how good it felt, “I wanna eat your pussy.”

Smoke slipped out of Annie’s mouth, dick dripping with spit and throbbing. Deep veins like loving trails for Annie’s tongue. Smoke picked Annie up and put her on her stomach. Annie arched her back and Smoke got down on his knees. He spread Annie’s big cheeks, keeping her open with a firm grip. He caught a whiff of that cooze and almost drooled down his chin.

“So beautiful…so beautiful.”

Smoke rubbed his face in it.

Smoke slobbered all over it.

Smoke sucked to his heart’s desire.

Smoke spanked those cheeks.

Annie was a moaning mess. She couldn’t form words, only sounds.

“Mm…oof…unh…ooo…ahhh…”

Smoke flipped her over. He pushed Annie’s thighs back so far her titties sat beneath her chin. Annie watched Smoke between her fat titties and round belly. He tongue fucked her, got his nose up in it, munched on it all with his eyes on her. Annie’s toes curled at the way his fluffy lips sucked on her clit.

“Smoke!”

She was loud, and she didn’t give a damn.

He ate her pussy up.

Smoke surfaced. He fisted his dick and then pointed it at Annie’s gushy.

“Had my dick so fuckin’ stiff—”

Smoke pushed in and started stroking. Annie watched Smoke’s hips grind, loving his stroke and how it pressed deep to make her cream.

“I’m creaming it, huh?” Smoke slapped her titties.

“Papa!”

“Uh-huh…”

Annie’s titties swayed in a circular motion. Smoke had her thighs out the way. Annie had nowhere to run. He looked up staring into the mirror situated in the corner. A slow smirk painted his lips. Sharp, calculated strokes had Annie gripping him with her walls.

“Cum on Papa’s dick, baby…”

Annie’s eyes crossed. Smoke’s mojo bag dangled in her face.

“Fuck, Annie! This good pussy!”

Smoke’s hips stuttered out of control. The bed creaked from the withering springs. Smoke shot off a thick nut deep inside of Annie’s womb. He propped himself up, staring down at her as sweat dripped onto her. Annie was experiencing an orgasmic high.

“Just what I needed,” Annie opened her eyes to stare at her husband, “I love you, Smoke.”

Smoke grabbed Annie’s hand that was stroking his face and kissed it.

“I love ya’, baby. I’m not mad about Amelia.”

“Ya’ sure?”

“I is,” Smoke leaned forward to kiss Annie, “Just a lil’ jealous. She got ya’ under a spell, baby. Three times?”

Annie giggles, “It’s that good. She tasted good on my tongue?”

Smoke responded with his lips sucking on Annie’s titties.

“I take it that’s a yes?”

Annie lifted Smoke’s face.

“She gon’ be here a while, Smoke…”

Annie thumbed Smoke’s bottom lip.

“…Then we give her a proper welcome.”

Annie’s eyes lit up.

Smoke let Annie up to get dressed. He decided to sleep naked. Annie turned off the kerosene lamp and Smoke settled behind her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against his front. Annie’s backside snuggled against his dick. The pale moonlight bathed their bodies, the sweat on their dark skin glistening.

@eggnox @blackisy2k @thickeeparker @theereinawrites @angelin-dis-guise @thee-germanpeach @harleycativy @alexbabyyyy @readingaddict1290 @thedondada05 @blackamericanprincessy @aristasworld @avoidthings @brownsugarcoffy @ziayamikaelson @kindofaintrovert @raysogroovy @overhere94 @sug3rco0k1es @joysofmyworld @an-ever-evolving-wanderer @starcrossedxwriter @marley1773 @bombshellbre95 @nybearsworld @blossom3010 @kykylovesblog @desthefanfc @jeurden23janise @brincessbarbie @kholdkill @honggihwa @tianna-blanche @wewantsumheaad @goddessofthundathighs @nearsightedbaddie @charmedthoughts @beaboutthataction @mynameisnikkinik @girlsneedlovingfanfics @candelalanegra22 @mrsknowitallll @pinkprincessluminary @rissa21405 @chefjessypooh @sk1121-blog1 @contentfiend @kaystacks17 @bratzlele @massivewolfslimeturtle @kirayuki22 @bxrbie1 @blackerthings @intellectualassholee @angryflowerwitch @baddiegiii @mysteriouslycertaincherrybl-blog @syko-jpg @inkdrippeddreams @rolemodelshit

[badassbutterfly1987]

(ID: Tiktok post: "Please give me your most unhinged neurodivergent hacks. I don't mean "set multiple alarms on your phone!" I mean something you did that was truly unhinged but you don't regret at all." Anika: "My brother threw away all his socks and bought 3 10-packs of simple black socks. Now he doesn't have to sort and fold them, he just throws them in a drawer and any two socks he picks will be a match." JamestownMuse: "Roleplay. I'm not doing dishes, I'm cleaning my tavern before meeting the dangerous but handsome highwayman." Charlotte: "'Big Light Torture' leave all the big lights on until the tasks are finished." Niche: "It is set multiple alarms but unhinged twist: they're different songs for every hour so I know that time is passing. Has REALLY helped my time blindness." unknown: "When I'm frozen in bed doom scrolling I chuck my phone as hard as I can across the room. Either I get up to grab it (undoes the paralysis) or I confinue rotting (but without my phone, so healthier)." Loke22: "I hate doing skincare but I know I have to so I imagine I'm some undead creature like a zombie and I have to keep embalming myself to stay fresh." unknown: "I can expand on this but I used to get upset if things weren't how I planned. So in all my plans, I just plan for things to not go as plan and then when they don't, it was part of the plan."

MnM_Kitty: "Cleaning buddy. I have a plush duck named George I set in the room I need to clean. I cannot leave until George is pleased with the cleanliness. He is watching." Anonymous: "Realize that neurotypicals depend on social lies and find them fully acceptable, so you can create your own internal structure for what counts as harmless lies that make your life easier." bigkingmck: "I listen to Mario kart's 10 hour version of the coconut mall song at work because nothing else can get me to sit still and focus for long periods of time." user429666754343: "Forget about the 'does it spark joy?' method of decluttering. Ask yourself, 'if this item had (poop emoji) on it, would I clean it or throw it away?" Chelsea: "I can't reward myself for things bc I'll just cheat and give myself the reward before I do the thing. So now I have a 'day of despair' where I do all my chores from the week on 1 day." emilia k: "I played the same song every time I did work, so then when it played, I felt compelled to go to work even if I was struggling. Self Pavlov baby." heyitsmeteeoz: "I pretend my ex can hack into my eyes and see exactly what I see/am doing like a live video feed and I need him to see I'm doing better without him. Excellent motivation." Duckofdoom91: "I am a people pleaser to my own detriment but will not help myself. So I started helping 'future me' instead of my current self, and it genuinely helps me get stuff done." End ID.)

[mintedwitcher]

something I'm workshopping for my "Buck leaves the 118" fic below the cut:

He sits in his car for a long time, just staring out at the waves. He used to surf. He used to love surfing. When did that stop, he wonders? Was it when the tsunami happened? Or was it before that? He can’t remember the last time he went surfing.

His phone is in his hand before he really registers picking it up, and then he’s dialling a number that he’s been avoiding for weeks.

“This is Kinard.”

“Tommy,” Buck says, and it’s like he can finally breathe.

“Evan? What’s wrong?” Tommy asks immediately.

“I’m at the beach,” Buck says. “Just got off work. Did you know I used to be a surf instructor? I can’t remember the last time I went surfing.”

“Which beach?” Tommy asks. “And no, I didn’t know that. I can see it though, it suits you.”

“More than being a firefighter?” Buck asks. “I don’t know which beach, I wasn’t paying attention. I just ended up here.”

“No, firefighting suits you better,” Tommy says. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” Buck says. He might be lying. He doesn’t really know. That last call did get a little hairy, but he doesn’t feel hurt. Mostly he just feels… “Tired.”

“Stay awake for me,” Tommy says. Buck can hear the sound of Tommy’s truck revving. He’s driving, too. He’s probably going to work.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have called,” Buck says. “I’m not even sure why I did, I just… I guess I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Evan, sweetheart, you’re scaring me,” Tommy says, and his voice sounds urgent now.

“I’m not killing myself,” Buck tells him, because that’s important. “I won’t do that. I’m getting a transfer next week. Can’t mess things up for my new Captain before I even start working for him.”

“Good, Evan, that’s good,” Tommy says. “I’m on my way right now, okay? Just keep talking to me, sweetheart. Tell me about your surf instructor job. I’ve gotta know, were you blonde?”

Buck barks a laugh. “Frosted tips,” he says. “It was Peru. Wait, no, that was the bartending job. God, there’s been so many, I can’t keep track of them all. Maybe I’ll ask Maddie. She’ll know. She kept my postcards.”

“You sent her postcards?” Tommy asks. Buck knows that he’s trying to keep him awake, keep him alert and oriented. He’s a firefighter, he knows the drill. He goes with it anyway.

“Yeah, one from every place I lived in, before LA,” Buck says. “There’s like, twenty of them.”

“You’ll have to tell me about all of them,” Tommy says. “How many jobs have you had?”

“Too many,” Buck says with a sigh. “I liked most of them. Surfing, carpentry, bartending… I was a ranch hand for a while. Can’t believe it took you kissing me to realise I’m into men. The signs were there, Tommy, let me tell you.”

“You checked out my ass the day we met, remember,” Tommy says. Buck laughs again. It still sounds wrong, but maybe it’s because he hasn’t laughed in a while. Maybe he needs to relearn how.

“In my defence, you have a great ass,” Buck says.

“You’re right, I do,” Tommy says, chuckling.

“And so modest, too,” Buck says. He’s teasing. They’re flirting. Buck’s smile feels a little more genuine this time.

“A triple threat,” Tommy agrees. “I’m pulling up now. I can see your truck.”

“Yay,” Buck replies, and Tommy laughs. The sound is warm and rich, like Tommy’s favourite coffee order. A few seconds later, Tommy’s truck parks next to his.

“Can I come sit with you?” Tommy asks, still on the phone. Buck can see him through the car windows. He nods. The call disconnects. A moment later, Tommy’s knocking on his passenger side window. Buck moves his duffel bag into the back seat and unlocks his doors so Tommy can climb inside.

He’s still in his sleep clothes.

“Did I wake you up?” Buck asks, eyeing the pyjama pants that he bought for Tommy back when they were dating. Buck’s matching set is in his dresser drawer at home, along with the few shirts he managed to pilfer from Tommy during their relationship that he hasn’t gotten around to returning yet.

“Yes, but I don’t care,” Tommy says. “You call, I come running. Or, driving, in this case. Are you okay?”

And maybe it’s the pyjamas, maybe it’s the forty-eight he just worked, maybe it’s the takeout boxes in the kitchen and the empty fridge at work, or maybe he’s just done. Buck gets one full breath in, and the next one hitches, and before he knows it, he’s sobbing. Tommy reacts immediately, pulling him in. It’s uncomfortable and awkward with the centre console in the way, but Buck doesn’t care. He hides his face in Tommy’s neck and cries, and cries, and cries.

[witchslove]

Thin Walls

Pairing: Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: You stay over at Wanda’s one night after babysitting the boys, only to find out that the walls of her house are very thin.

Warnings: 18+ nsfw content; bottom!wanda, top!reader, masturbation, fingering (w receiving), mentions of oral (w receiving), mommy kink, dirty talk

A/N: This came to me and I had to write it, it’s mainly smut with a little bit of plot. Enjoy my loves!

——————————

It was late when Vision came by to pick up the boys and it was even later when Wanda got home from her work meeting.

Technically your shift babysitting the twins was over as soon as Vision left with them, but you waited up for Wanda, wanting to make sure she got home safely and didn’t need anything else.

And maybe, just maybe, you really wanted to see the redhead before you went home.

You’d had a crush on Wanda since you met her at a family party. She was one of your mom’s friends from college who she’d reconnected with later in life.

Wanda was absolutely stunning and you felt butterflies in your stomach the first time you shook her hand. Everything about the woman was attractive and you couldn’t help but want her. You knew it would never go anywhere, but you couldn’t stop yourself from having feelings for her.

So of course, when your mom suggested you start babysitting her boys, you couldn’t say no.

Wanda thought it was a great idea and her eagerness to have you help her out made your heart flutter.

Now, here you were, curled up on her couch with a movie on while you waited for her to come home, knowing that you could’ve left the second the twins’ father had picked them up.

You heard the lock on the front door over the dull sounds of the movie you put on and when Wanda walked in, she was surprised to see you.

“Oh, hi Y/N! Are the boys still here?” She asked, looking around as she set down her things and took off her coat.

“No ma’am, Vision picked them up about twenty minutes ago,” you responded, feeling nervous as she looked over at you. “I- um, just wanted to make sure you made it home safe. I’ll be leaving now.”

“We’ve been over this, call me Wanda,” she corrected with a smile. “And that’s sweet of you, but it’s pretty late for you to be heading out. Why don’t you just sleep in the guest room for tonight?”

Your heart jumped in your chest at the thought of spending the night. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to impose,” you managed, rubbing the back of your neck anxiously.

“Of course! You’re not imposing, I’m offering. The guest room is already made up, you just make yourself right at home,” Wanda replied, heading down the hall.

“Okay, thank you Wanda,” you responded, making your way to the guest room to get situated for the night.

While you were putting your things in the guest room and setting up your phone charger, Wanda came in with some of her clothes for you to wear to bed, a shirt that smelled like her and a pair of sweats. She also gave you a spare toothbrush and let you know that you could use the toothpaste in the front bathroom. You thanked her again and she said it was no problem, smiling sweetly at you before saying goodnight.

By the time you finished getting ready for bed, you were beyond tired. It had been a long day taking care of the boys and doing schoolwork and your body was begging you for sleep.

As you laid in bed, ready for sleep to take over, you heard something strange. It was faint at first and you were almost able to ignore it, but then you heard it again.

By the third time, it was unmistakable.

You heard moaning - more specifically, Wanda moaning. You couldn’t believe your ears and you almost convinced yourself that you were making it up somehow.

But the longer it went on, the louder it got.

Wanda was touching herself with you in the house and you could hear it.

You felt a pang of arousal with every moan that came from Wanda’s room down the hall, feeling yourself grow wet at the sounds of her pleasuring herself.

When you heard her let out a breathy “fuck” you couldn’t stop yourself from sliding a hand down the front of your sweats - Wanda’s sweats.

You were already wet enough that it had seeped through your underwear. Just the sounds Wanda was making and the thought of what she was doing were enough to turn you on.

You pictured her in her bed, legs spread, touching herself as she moaned. You wondered if she was staying outside, making tight circles over her clit, or if she had two fingers stretching herself out, her palm nudging her bundle of nerves with every stroke.

You began rubbing yourself over your soaked underwear, getting off to her sounds and your imagination.

You were already close - it didn’t take much when you could hear the object of your desires touching herself in the other room. This was like a dream come true, you only wished you could be the one pleasuring her instead.

Her moans rose in pitch and you could tell she was close. You moved your fingers faster, wanting to cum with her.

She came with a long drawn-out moan, the sound bringing you over the edge with her. You wondered what she looked like when she came undone, back arched against the bed, face contorted in pleasure.

You stifled your own sounds as you came, not wanting her to know you were listening to her.

When the moment was over, the guilt hit you like a truck. You pulled your hand out of your pants and tried to ignore the sticky wetness between your thighs, your underwear clinging to you uncomfortably.

You had just touched yourself to the thought of Wanda with her in the other room. She probably had no idea you could hear her and you felt horrible for taking advantage of the opportunity.

With the heavy weight of the guilt of your actions, you tried to sleep, unsure if you’d be able to after what just happened.

The next morning, you’d barely rested, your mind racing all night with thoughts of Wanda until you eventually succumbed to sleep.

How could you look her in the eyes after what you’d done? After what you’d heard her doing?

You managed to get out of bed and use the bathroom before you trodded to the kitchen, still wearing Wanda’s clothes.

You were making yourself a cup of coffee when the redhead walked in, wearing only a silk nightgown that dipped low in the front and barely reached past her ass. You almost choked on your drink when you saw her, not expecting to see so much skin.

She looked divine, hair slightly messy from her sleep, face free of any makeup, curves on display in her skimpy nightgown. The task at hand of acting normal around her had just become significantly harder.

“Good morning Y/N,” she greeted, entering the kitchen. “How did you sleep?”

You cleared your throat before speaking. “I slept okay, thank you,” you managed to get out, still trying to calm yourself down. “What about you?”

“I slept great, I must’ve needed it after that work meeting,” she replied, making herself a cup of coffee as well.

“That’s good,” you said back, unsure of how to continue the conversation. You watched her as she moved around the kitchen and nearly whimpered out loud when she bent over to get creamer out of the fridge, her nightgown leaving little to the imagination.

You coughed to cover up the noise that almost escaped you and Wanda turned to you, coffee in hand.

“You know, Y/N, it’s not proper to listen in when a woman is having some alone time,” she started, a slight smirk on her face.

Your blood ran cold at her words and you tried to think of something to say back. “What?” you responded, your voice barely coming out.

“I know you heard me last night, detka,” she said, her eyes never leaving yours as you struggled to not look away.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tried to cover up, heat rising to your cheeks as you spoke.

“Don’t lie to me honey, that won’t get you anywhere,” Wanda cooed.

You didn’t know how to respond, looking down at your lap awkwardly as she spoke again.

“I know you weren’t asleep yet,” she continued. “Did you like what you heard?”

You didn’t answer at first, dumbstruck. It felt like she was coming onto you but you couldn’t believe the older woman would reciprocate your feelings towards her.

You shook your head no, trying to save face.

“I don’t believe you sweetheart,” Wanda said, approaching you. “I think you did like it.” She stood beside you now, leaning in. “I bet you touched yourself to the thought of me when you heard me, am I right?”

You couldn’t help the sound that came out of you, something between a whimper and a groan.

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” she whispered, reaching out to tilt your chin towards her so you were looking at her again. “Such a needy little thing, hm? You couldn’t help yourself could you? Did hearing mommy make you wet?”

Your mouth fell open at the title she gave herself and you throbbed at her words, feeling hot under her gaze. This time, you didn’t lie.

You nodded, still having trouble forming words, and she bit her lip, smirking.

“Yeah?” She asked, stroking your cheek with her thumb. “You poor thing, I bet it was hard knowing what I was doing in the other room and not being able to see for yourself. What did you think about when you touched yourself?”

Her words were turning you on. “You,” you breathed out, arousal clouding your thoughts.

“Be more specific,” she demanded, still looking at you intently. “What did you imagine?”

You mustered up the courage to tell her the truth. “I imagined it was me making you feel good instead,” you mumbled, somehow managing to hold eye contact with her.

“Yeah? You imagined it was your hand on my pussy instead of my own?”

You moaned at that, nodding again. At this point you were panting. You felt humiliated admitting all of this to Wanda, but at the same time it made you incredibly wet.

“You wanna make mommy feel good, detka?” She asked, her own arousal increasing with every honest answer you gave her.

“Yes,” you whimpered. “Please.”

“Oh good girl, those manners will get you everywhere,” she said, smiling. You felt a gush of wetness at the praise, your pupils dilated and your breathing heavy.

She backed away from you until she was leaning against the counter. “Come here.”

You obeyed eagerly, feeling excited for what was to come. You couldn’t believe what was happening, still not entirely sure this wasn’t a vivid dream you were having in the night.

Wanda slipped her panties off and lifted her nightgown, showing you her glistening pussy. Your mouth watered at the sight and you felt your ego inflate at the fact that she was so wet for you.

She grabbed your hand and brought it to her dripping cunt, letting you feel the wetness you caused.

“Fuck,” you muttered, mesmerized by the feel of her soft folds under your fingertips.

“Go on baby, make me feel good,” she encouraged, wanting more from you than just the featherlight touches you were giving.

Your gaze was locked onto where your fingers grazed her pussy, unable to look away. You brought a finger up to her clit and began to rub circles into it, causing her to moan softly against you.

The sound snapped you out of your haze and you looked at her, wanting to see her while you brought her pleasure.

You picked up the pace, touching her with purpose now, wanting to see her cum for you. Her mouth fell open, eyebrows furrowed, gasps and moans falling from her lips as you pressed down harder.

Her clit throbbed under your fingers, her hole clenching around nothing as you stimulated her hardened bud.

“You’re so pretty like this,” you whispered, in awe of the sight before you. “Even prettier than I imagined.”

“Yeah? What else did you imagine?” She asked, wanting you to tell her all of your fantasies about her.

You slid a finger into her opening and she gasped, hips jerking forward. “This,” you said, sliding another finger in alongside the first, feeling her walls clench around you. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

Wanda moaned, moving against you as she tried to get more, your fingers fucking into her slowly. “Tell me more,” she panted out, practically riding your fingers. “What else do you want to do to me?”

“Fuck mommy, so many things,” you admitted, lost in the moment, her breath catching in her throat at you using her title. “I want to fuck you every way I can think of,” you started, almost losing your train of thought when you realized you could hear the wet sounds of her pussy as your fingers moved inside her.

“I want to taste you, I think about it all the time,” you said, fucking into her harder. “You sound so wet right now and all I can think about is having you in my mouth.”

She moaned at your words, her eyes closing in pleasure as you brought her closer to the edge. “Be a good girl and make me cum, and that can be arranged,” she managed, hips bucking against you. “Fuck, I’m close.”

You watched as one of her hands came down to rub at her own clit, your cunt throbbing at the sight of her touching herself for you. The sight of her masturbating was even better than you could have imagined the night before, when you were desperately trying to picture what she would look like with her hand between her thighs.

“I’m gonna cum,” Wanda cried out, her pussy spasming around your fingers, trapping them inside as she barreled towards her orgasm.

You leaned in to kiss her neck, making your way towards her ear. “Cum for me, mommy,” you said, your breath in her ear making her shiver as she reached her peak.

“Fuck!” Her body shook against you and she moaned loudly as she came undone, her walls tightening around your fingers and her wetness dripping down to your palm.

You continued to fuck her as she rode out the aftershocks and she continued her stimulation on her clit until it was too much. You slowed your pace, bringing her down as she opened her eyes. She looked at you tiredly, her body spent from the intense orgasm as you pulled out of her, your fingers wet.

You were too busy committing the sight to memory in case you never saw it again to notice the way she looked at you, love and adoration in her eyes.

After a few moments, her breathing evened out. “I knew you could hear me,” she began, catching your attention. “I wanted you to hear me.”

She bit her lip teasingly, waiting to see how you would react.

“You… you wanted me to hear?” you repeated her words back to her, your brain trying to process what she was telling you.

“Mhm,” she said, a lazy smile on her face. “I see the way you look at me, I’ve known you wanted me for a while now,” she explained. “I waited to see if you’d make a move on me, but you never did. So I took matters into my own hands… literally.”

She chuckled at her own joke and you joined her, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“I guess I wasn’t as discreet as I thought,” you mused, thinking back to all the times you thought Wanda had almost caught you staring.

“No baby, not at all,” she responded. “You look at me like you’re desperate for me.”

You blushed at that, groaning. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize-” you started, but she cut you off.

“Don’t apologize, detka. It’s cute. It makes me feel wanted, desired,” she spoke, her words becoming breathier. “It makes me so wet.”

You groaned, feeling arousal shoot through you at her words. “Fuck Wanda, you drive me crazy.”

“Keep fucking me like that and I’ll do more than drive you crazy,” she quipped, raising an eyebrow.

“Deal,” you replied, your heart beating a little faster at the thought of doing this again.

“What was it you said earlier?” She pulled you in closer until your bodies were flush, your faces centimeters apart. “Something about wanting to taste me?”

You grinned, understanding what she was getting at, before slowly dropping to your knees. It was going to be a long morning, you thought, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[siri-ike]

"Hey,"

The guy startled and looked at Tim like he wasn't sure if he was real. Did he really not hear him drive up? Or is he in worse shape than he looks?

The stranger reached out for the passenger seat door but then suddenly appeared in the back seat. Looking back, this should have been clue number 4 or 5, but it was the first thing Tim found odd. The stranger fell asleep with his head on his backpack almost immediately. Only his upper body was shaded by the cars roof. That was the part that seemed to be oozing a thick green liquid. While his lower half was bleeding red.

Tim couldn't see the guys face no matter how he turned the mirror. It was always just out of view.

Then came the whispering. The guy was lying in the back seat. So why, in the name of all that is good and sane, does it sound like he's whispering right in Tim's ear? Some ot the things he whispered were mundane, such as "where am I?", "who are you?", and a long monotone "OooOoOooOoo." Some things revealed useful information like "I am real." Which was a huge relief to Tim. But most of it was concerning.

Tim swerved off the road when his ghost friend suddenly woke up and started yelling. "[{NO! STOP! LET ME GO!}]" Or it would be more accurate to say he started yelling and then woke up because he immediately switched gears to "Hi, I'm Danny. Where're we headed?" Tim finaly cought his reflection in the rear view mirror. Weren't his eyes green before?

It was jarring, to say the least. More concerned arose when Tim offered Danny to sit in the passenger seat and was met with a casual "I can't sit in the front. They'll find me." He didn't say who "they" were, and he refused to elaborate. Honestly, it was probably the least suspect thing about him, but Danny's up to 17-19 red flags depending on how you count.

Tim rounded up to 20 when he stopped at a gas station, and instead of following him inside, Danny just appeared in the snack aisle. Tim looked out to the car, and there Danny was, waving back at him. And in the store, dropping multiple cards, none of which had his name. Several of them were just perfectly white key cards, like the ones used in government facilities. Another oddity was when he picked out 7 bottles of mountain dew, asked how much radiation it contained, and was disappointed with the answer.

"We're about an hour from the edge of the desert. Where do you need to go?" Tim asked as he got back in the car. Neither of them carried anything in, yet the car was full of supplies. More than what Tim saw him pay for.

"Anywhere, really. Wherever you're going should be fine."

"I mean, where do you live?"

"I don't."

He's homeless? Well, that makes sense.

"Did you say we were in a desert?" He sounded so surprised.

Tim simply gestured to their environment. Evidently, it's a desert.

"What state are we in?"

"Colorado. Where did you think we were?" Tim turned on the car.

"Pennsylvania. Or at least close. Colorado is like..." Danny roughly outlined the USA with his hands and vaguely gestured to where Pennsylvania and Colorado were on it. "... really far away."

"It's about a 25-hour drive."

Suddenly, the radio turned on by itself.

"The authorities warn of a dangerous individual in the area. He's described as being 5 foot 4, with black hair and-" *click*

Tim turned to Danny, now in the passenger seat. His left pointer finger on the power button, and his right hand adjusted the sunglasses he had just bought.

"Which direction are we going?"

"Kansas, Keystone city. My grandma lives there." An entire fleet of speedsters live there. "We're about ten hours away." Tim lied.

"Where's Keystone?"

"Missouri. Same direction as Pennsylvania."

Danny looked away, then down at his lap, then forward. Signs of secrecy or distress. He pulled the cards he used before and hid them under the floor mat. "Can we make a stop in the next city?" He reached into the backseat for a tube of Pringles and offered some to Tim. "I'll make it worth your while."

What, the actual fuck, does that mean?!!?

DpxDc #3

Catch a ghost ride?

In the USA, picking up a ghost in your car, often happened when hitchhiking was still legal, but that doesn’t mean it’s no longer a thing.

Getting a ghost in your backseat, looking at your rearview mirror, and finding out they are no longer there.

Then why THE FUCK won’t this ghost leave him alone?!

Tim found himself on the outskirts of Colorado (for a mission) on a mild spring evening when he spotted a teenage guy at the side of the road with a backpack on his shoulder, looking like he had just come out of a shredder.

He didn’t even think about it, his foot pressing automatically on the brakes and letting the guy on, receiving a quick “thanks.”

After about half an hour, his eyes glanced at the mirror, and the guy looked passed out and... transparent?

After several hours of driving, the guy woke up, looked over himself, looked at Tim, and decided it was a wonderful time to start a friendly conversation.

Yup. He was giving a ghost a ride.

A chatty one at that.

[sushirrrry]

Hi Em! I have an idea for a little prompt if you have time:)

2nd person

No smut

I was thinking Harry and y/n are freshy dating so everything is very new and exciting but they are also both kind of nervous and shy around each other:) just something cutesy in the early stages of dating, how they’re exploring their routines, habits etc:)

Set at uni/young adults working their first jobs

Have a nice dayyyyy!

GENTLE

@witch-rry hope you enjoy 😘

Everything about him, about this, it’s still new.

The way he knocks on your suite door, even though you told him he never has to, especially when you’re expecting him. The way your heart does that silly little flutter each time anyway — even if you’re just in mismatched socks and his hoodie that he left at your flat a week or so ago, holding a spoonful of peanut butter mid-air as you meander to answer the door.

Harry smells like outside air and laundry detergent when he steps in, cheeks pink from the cold. The beanie settles on his curls perfectly, and his large, green eyes have crinkled in the corners from where he holds his happiness. He smiles like he’s trying not to; you smile like you’re not trying at all.

He toes off his shoes by the door, carefully, always in that same order — shoes, jacket, hat, then the little sigh he lets out like the day’s finally over now that he’s here with you. You stand there next to him, waiting to lead him into the small flat.

“You’re always eating peanut butter,” he says, amused, dropping his bag beside the door.

“And you’re always late,” you shoot back, but there’s no heat behind it — just that familiar tease that you both like so much, that low-grade buzz that’s settled between you two like static.

He grins, shyly. “Got caught up at work. Again.”

“They must really need you,” you tell him, taking another bite of the peanut butter from your spoon. “Employee of the Year award.”

Harry shakes his head, putting his hands in his joggers with a sheepish response, “I guess – I like being needed.”

You offer him the spoon. He takes it, brushing your fingers accidentally-on-purpose, and for a second the room tilts. He looks at you like you’re magic, and you look at him like you might believe it to be true.

“You still okay for a movie night?” you ask, a little softer.

“Of course – I even brought the snacks this time.”

You follow him when he starts to move over to your couch, “You pick weird snacks.”

“I’m a man of complex taste,” he says, puffing his chest slightly, before collapsing onto your tiny couch that still smells like takeout and cheap candles.

And then… there it is. That quiet beat that follows new love. Not loud, not dramatic. Just two people slowly making space in each other’s lives.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” You ask him, knowing that the kettle had already been on, but wondering if he would like to join you.

Harry turned from his seat on the couch, almost looking like he would get up because he wanted to help you. “Oh – uh, yes, actually. That would be great.” He’s shy, and nervous, and feels as if he needs to help you with everything. It’s what a gentleman would do; but the thing about Harry is that he knows how independent you are, and how much stuff you don’t want help with.

You don’t know his middle name yet, but you know how he takes his tea: plain with just a splash of milk. He doesn’t know where you see yourself in five years, but he knows you sleep with your window cracked open just in case it starts to rain. You’re still figuring it all out — the pacing, the rhythms, the delicate weight of maybe falling for someone too fast. But it’s a type of falling that feels fun and dramatic and soft.

For now, it’s enough. Peanut butter spoons and shared blankets and knowing smiles across the room make sense for you both, and it feels incredibly special to know that you can look at each other with the same hearted eyes.

Harry settles into the far corner of your couch, leg tucked beneath him like he’s still not sure how much space he’s allowed to take up. His hair’s a little damp from the walk over, and it curls slightly at his temples — you try not to stare, but your heart’s doing that thing again, the skip-hop flutter that’s becoming familiar around him. His cheeks are still pink, you wonder if it’s from blush or just from being warm.

You pass him the blanket from the back of the couch without a word. He takes it with a quiet “thanks,” eyes flicking to yours for a second too long before looking away.

On the screen, the movie menu loops again – he let you pick the movie this time, even when he argued that you’d never seen Jurassic Park so it was a must. But he let you choose Little Women because he wanted to watch you watch it more than anything. Neither of you press play.

Instead, you both sit in that still moment, the kind that only happens when you’re not quite strangers, not quite anything else yet. Your flat smells like microwave popcorn and your vanilla body lotion. His knee accidentally bumps yours, and he leaves it there, like maybe he’s hoping you won’t mind if it’s just resting.

Of course, you don’t. You even push back a little bit to let him know that you feel him.

You don’t say anything — just rest your head back, letting the soft hum of the room fill the spaces between your thoughts. It’s new. It's unfamiliar in a way that feels good, like breaking in new shoes or hearing a song you know you’ll play to death just so you can practically feel the words.

He reaches for the popcorn and misses the bowl completely, sending a few pieces scattering onto the carpet. He groans, embarrassed, and ducks down to pick them up, mumbling something that sounds like, “Every time.”

You give him a pitied laugh, just a little, soft and honest. He glances up at you from under his lashes, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth like he’s proud to have made you laugh even if he didn’t mean to.

“Thanks for letting me come over,” he says, almost like he felt he needed to thank you for allowing his presence.

You nod, brushing your socked foot against his in an absentminded kind of way. “I like it when you’re here.”

He smiles at that, cheeks pink. Not from the cold this time, you were sure of it.

The quiet stretches, but it’s not awkward. Just… tentative. Like the two of you are standing on the edge of something, peering down into it but not quite ready to jump.

Your hand ends up next to his on the blanket. And then, not long after, in it. He doesn’t look at you. You don’t look at him. But the grip is warm, and it holds.

The movie finally starts playing in the background, but neither of you are really watching. You feel the rise and fall of his chest where he’s settled a little closer now. He smells like cinnamon gum and something clean, like the laundry detergent your flat mate insists on overusing.

At some point, your head drops onto his shoulder. And his thumb brushes your knuckles, once, twice — a steady rhythm that calms something buzzy in your chest.

You don’t talk about how new it all is. You don’t talk at all. But then when the credits roll, and you both stay exactly where you are, you know he’s not going anywhere — not tonight. Not if you don’t want him to.

And you don’t. Not even a little.

[zyafics]

hii!! i was hoping maybe you could write a fic based on this p!link? ( https://x.com/moodkink/status/1919457705065840752?s=46)

but if you don’t write smut then just ignore this!! that’s totally fine :)

i do write smut, and this is the first time i wrote a smutty little blurb, so this was so fun!! it came so naturally <3

BLURBFEST III | RC

join my blurbfest <3 | p link | WORD COUNT: 0.8k

“I’m shy,” you say timidly as your legs are slowly spread open on Rafe’s lap, his hand slipping between the cushions of your thighs. Spine pressed against his hard chest, the rumbling hitch of his breath as his amusement grows from your nervousness.

His long fingers graze your folds in feather-light touches. Rafe’s lips against the shell of your ear. “You won’t be shy with me.”

Tonight was supposed to be an innocent tutoring session. You were contracted by his parents to come over and help him fix his failing grade—even given the authority of power to change them—but somehow, instead, you ended up half-naked in his lap, with your panties discarded on the floor while his hand plays with your pussy.

Well, almost.

With your heart hammering in your chest, you are certain Rafe can pick up the nervous energy radiating from your body. You haven’t had much experience with sexual intimacy, but somehow, you landed in the web of an notorious fuckboy who does.

“What are you going to do?” You ask meekly, feeling the rough callouses of his palm drag across your soft inner skin, causing you to shiver.

“You never touched yourself before?” His voice is breathy, wanting, like he’s actively holding himself back from doing more.

“I never had someone touching me,” you confess, because it’s true, but it seems to be the wrong thing to say. Rafe chuckles darkly, reveling in your innocence, and he awards you with a gentle glide of his digits against your folds.

You jolt in his lap.

“But you’re wet enough to want it,” Rafe muses lowly, his words coming out hungry. His fingers moved up and down your slit tantalizingly, making your core pulse with need, needing more friction against your clit. “Does this turn you on?”

“N-no,”

“Don’t lie to me,” Rafe says sharply, like he’s training you to be his own personal doll. Putting you in a position you don’t even know you’re getting into. The pad of his thumb caresses your clit, “I don’t reward bad girls.”

“I’m not a bad girl.”

“Yeah?”

Rafe’s words make you strangely hot, liquid heat crawling up your spine with an impulsive ache. All your life, you’re been nothing but a good girl. A law-abiding citizen. The perfect student. Now, you’re spread on a stranger’s couch, with his hand tucked between your legs, touching your most intimate parts.

With a measly glimpse of clarity, you say, “This is wrong.”

You don’t see him, but you can feel the curve of his mouth pull into a smirk. “Really?”

“We’re supposed to be studying.”

“I am studying,” Rafe gently bites your earlobe, a thick finger sinking into your cunt. “Anatomy.”

Heavenly. Rafe slowly enters your pussy, allowing your walls to adjust to his large size, before adding another. Then another. Suddenly, you’re full in a way you’ve never felt in your life. You have touched yourself before, fingers rubbing your sensitive clit, inserting inside, but it can never measure to what Rafe does. What Rafe can do.

He starts thrusting. Moans slip through your throaty voice, ricocheting in incremental volume as you try to contain your sounds. Rafe promised no one is home, just you, just him, and your back arches with pleasure.

“Does this feel good?” Rafe coos in your ear, soaking in your little noises. He quickens his speed with his skillful fingers. “Does my little tutor like that?”

Your mouth is wide open, but you can’t seem to say a thing as whimpers leave your wetted lips, arms flailing to grab hold of something. Rafe’s touch is swift and calculated, finding the right spot, increasing the right pressure. When he curls his fingers, it’s over.

“R-Rafe,” you whimper, shaking in his lap, “Slow down.”

“Did you say go faster?” He quickens his pace, his fingers thrusting in you with perfect, increasing momentum. You’re squirming, ass rubbing against his hard bulge, body building to your crescendo.

You can’t say anything. Can’t object—don’t want to. Instead, embarrassment flames your cheeks, and you close your lips.

“Leave it out,” Rafe demands, forcing your mouth open by shoving his free fingers in. Thighs trembling with his rhythm, your legs attempting to close, but his legs hook yours in a way that leaves you firmly spread. He needs to see it; the way his fingers disappears into your cunt. Needs to hear it; the squelching sounds that speak to your pleasure. It’s his own little prize. “Let me hear you.”

You come. Body shaking from extreme pleasure, hips buckling off his lap, and an elevated state of high passes through your system. You moan, wildly, loudly, in such high volume, it has you swearing the entire Figure Eight neighborhood will be filing a complaint.

You don’t seem to care.

Can you believe that?

“How does that feel?” Rafe asks, withdrawing his hand from your pussy. He doesn’t remove them from between your thighs, letting it sit and hover, making the faint presence known as he still has you in the palm of his hand.

“Good,” you gasp, “So good.”

“Good enough to give me an A?”

You look to him, eyes glazed over with a dreamy daze, the charming smile of his returns. “You know I can’t do that,” you say softly.

You think he’s about to shove you off. Discard you on the floor like he did to your panties and shorts. Instead, his mouth curls into a smirk, like he takes it as a challenge. A delight.

His fingers graze your sensitive clit, those feather-light touches producing a shock of pleasure that has you leaping off his lap. But his other hand finds your hips, pins you down.

“Let’s try this again.”

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[imnez-daydreams]

havent read any rafe fics in a good long while, but moot's writing has me gg crazy so i went snooping a lil for more :p

"It starts off small. Holding onto your wrist for a second too long. When he does that, you turn around to look at him. Then it becomes a habit, looking back at him for permission to walk away, to leave. He presses a kiss to the top of your head before he lets you go. It’s been so long, so many months and so many kisses, you worry he’s upset with you if you don’t receive it."

grrr love casual dominance. how it didnt start that way for rafe, he just saw the way reader reacted to the simple act and it just becomes a habit for them to wait and be obedient.

"Because this is his new high, and he doesn’t have to chase it, doesn’t have to pay for it. You’re devoted to him, and it’s getting worse and worse. He begins to wonder how far you’ll go, how much you’ll stretch the boundaries of right and wrong for him."

i like how reader is devoted to rafe but i think the obsession goes both ways. rafe wonders how far he can push reader past moral boundaries, but he's also being pulled into the darkness by imagining the lengths of reader's descent into depravity.

“That’s right, kid. I do.” He takes the gun from behind his shirt, brandishing it before you. If you’re scared, you don’t react at all. You look at him with your big, wet eyes and your thudding heart like you’d do anything if he asked. Pick up the gun and shoot someone yourself if he wanted. It makes his dick hard just thinking about it. “I have to use this, sometimes, to do it. To make sure no one can hurt you. That���s just how it is.” 

rafe getting turned out by reader would most likely follow his instructions to kill someone for him. what a freakkkk.

"He’s a little surprised, but still, not quite fazed, when you end up squirming in his arms not even ten minutes later. Your skirt pulled up and panties kicked aside, your pretty new shirt ripped down the middle to free your tits in the easiest way possible. "

"Rafe has one hand squeezing your tits and the other balancing the gun, holding it in place while he fucks it in and out of your cunt. He knew you were obedient, but even this is beyond his imagination. When you finally come, the wetness from your cunt shining on the black of his handpiece, he makes a show of licking it off."

AAWFFFFF gun play !! gun fucking !! rafe licking reader's cum off his gun RAHHHHH. insane. losing my marbles. need to write abt this kink soon omffff.

this was so gooddddd !! helpppp but im now thinking thoughts about gunplay ... gunplay with pope ... shea i stand by what i said about everytime i come on your blog n read your writing, i leave with my brain hardwired differently. i already had a thing for the "kid" pet name then you introduced me to "dad" as a pet name. now you've got me having brainrot about gunplay again RAHHHH.

𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐨 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐲

summary: you're obedient to rafe, and he's starting to realize how much he likes that.

word count: 1.2k

now spinning: cruel world by lana del rey

author's note/warning: rafe does things to you with his gun. this might be dark!rafe which is just.. rafe <3

Rafe gets a thrill when you’re obedient to him without him having to do or say anything at all.

It starts off small. Holding onto your wrist for a second too long. When he does that, you turn around to look at him. Then it becomes a habit, looking back at him for permission to walk away, to leave. He presses a kiss to the top of your head before he lets you go. It’s been so long, so many months and so many kisses, you worry he’s upset with you if you don’t receive it.

He’s conditioned you, in his own little way. Everyone notices it. His father tells him to treat a nice girl like you better. His friends laugh about it when you’re not there. He used to laugh too, but now he doesn’t, and he gives anyone who still mentions it a glare. 

Because this is his new high, and he doesn’t have to chase it, doesn’t have to pay for it. You’re devoted to him, and it’s getting worse and worse. He begins to wonder how far you’ll go, how much you’ll stretch the boundaries of right and wrong for him. 

He’d promised to leave you out of it, out of everything that’s going on, but his own curiosity got the best of him.

You’re lying in his bed, half-asleep and completely fucked out the first time he asks you. Sometimes he’s a totally different person with you, soft and gentle, and sometimes he’s more like himself. 

“If someone wanted to hurt me,” he starts, chin resting on the top of your head and hand tucked safely with yours, “what would you do?” 

“Hm?” you moan sleepily against his chest. You’re out of it, he knows because he’s the reason why, but he really wants an answer. Rafe gives your cheek a little slap, demeaning, the way he knows you like. Your eyes jump open.

“You heard me, kid. What would you do?”

“I-” you start, and then stop. You’re thinking about what to say. He doesn’t interrupt, because he knows you're using your little brain to figure out what answer he wants to hear. 

“Hm?” he repeats, mocking. You don’t notice.

“I would do whatever it took to make sure you were okay,” you say, pressing your hand flat against his chest, right over his heart. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The next time is a few months later. You’re still clueless, maybe a little less than before, but if you know something, you don’t admit it. He’s been testy with you, he knows, but you’re relentless in your mission to make sure the two of you are okay—that he’s still okay.

He’s pacing in his bedroom, running a hand over his buzzed hair, while you sit on his bed with your legs hanging off, watching silently. If you’re thinking anything, you don’t say it. His gun rests against his back, tucked into the waistband.

For a second his shirt lifts, and you stare at the black metal with big eyes. He catches you looking and you shift your gaze in a second, without him saying a word. So obedient, even when you’re scared.

“Rafey?” you ask quietly. “What’s going on?” He turns in an instant, squatting down before your legs, hands gripping your knees.

“What’s going on? What’s going on is that it’s happening. Remember when I asked you what you’d do if someone tried to hurt me? Remember?” and you nod fervently. “Well it’s happening now, kid.”

“Someone’s trying to hurt you?”

“Everyone’s trying to hurt me.”

“Not me, Rafe, not me,” and you sit up straighter, pressing your hands against his arms and holding on tightly. “I would never hurt you.”

“I know that, baby, I know. But I have to protect you, protect us both.” You know how Rafe gets sometimes. He worries too much, you’ve finally decided upon, that was it. The reason he was like this, he just worried too much, about protecting you and doing right by his family, his father. He had too much going on, too much responsibility for one person. That was your way of justifying everything. Your boyfriend didn’t do anything wrong, he never did.

“You will. I know you will, you always do, you always protect me.” There’s your obedience again, clicking in and telling him everything he wants to hear. The best part is that he knows you mean it. 

“That’s right, kid. I do.” He takes the gun from behind his shirt, brandishing it before you. If you’re scared, you don’t react at all. You look at him with your big, wet eyes and your thudding heart like you’d do anything if he asked. Pick up the gun and shoot someone yourself if he wanted. It makes his dick hard just thinking about it. “I have to use this, sometimes, to do it. To make sure no one can hurt you. That’s just how it is.” 

You move gingerly, clasping your hand around his and the gun, eyes locked on his own the whole time.

“I know. I know you’re doing it for the right reasons.” The two of you stay silent like that for another few moments, before your quiet voice fills the space again. “Rafe, no matter what you did, I would never blame you.” Your head shakes a little like you don’t understand what you’re saying. “I would never leave you. I would never hurt you.”

“I have to use it, baby, I don’t have a choice. Y’know these people, they don’t listen, no one, you have to show them you’re serious, and this, this is how serious I am.”

“I know,” you repeat, eyes fluttering between the gun and Rafe, back and forth. 

You’re looking at him like this because you like how he’s talking. The serious, scary way he means every word he’s saying, that he would kill to protect you, hurt someone else to make sure you’re okay. It doesn’t make you scared, it makes you fall deeper in love. Someone willing to risk everything for you. You want to prove that you would do anything for him too.

“I knew you’d understand,” he says, eyes fixed on the way you’re running your tongue over your lips, biting the button while you stare at his fingers wrapped around the grip. 

He’s a little surprised, but still, not quite fazed, when you end up squirming in his arms not even ten minutes later. Your skirt pulled up and panties kicked aside, your pretty new shirt ripped down the middle to free your tits in the easiest way possible. 

Rafe has one hand squeezing your tits and the other balancing the gun, holding it in place while he fucks it in and out of your cunt. He knew you were obedient, but even this is beyond his imagination. When you finally come, the wetness from your cunt shining on the black of his handpiece, he makes a show of licking it off. 

You’re his now in every way, even if you ever change your mind. You know you won’t.

[forpsheturnpesbian]

Can you do somethin where Paige is having a hard time adjusting to Dallas and mentally just isn’t doing great so azzi comes and surprises her and they work through her thoughts and headspace and just some fluff

Home is you

Word count: 667

Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

a/n: hope this is to ur liking, tried to do this ask justice. One of my first times writing please point out any errors and i’ll try my best to correct them eng isnt my first language. (Didn’t proofread it bare with me guys)

Dallas was..great

Nothing was wrong. She had chosen to be there. She had sworn to give this franchise the best player they could ever hope for, because they had chosen her

Out of all the players invited with the intent of contributing to greatness, she was their pick, their prospect, their player.

Paige was a franchise player and she was chosen to be exactly that

And as much as that is rewarding it is equally terrifying in its own unique way.

Everything was brand new, a new team, new coaching staff, new place, hell a whole new goddamn city. And P took it like a champ—Cheering on teammates, semi-unpacking, establishing her goals for the season, getting used to what Dallas has to offer, and training to get better everyday like she says everyday.

But the rook can only take so much. Till the tension has sinked completely into her bones, till she can barely breathe. Finally a breath of fresh air

Incoming call: Az💗

“Baby?” Paige asked her, breathing for the first time all day sinking into her overly expensive couch still in her sweaty gym clothes.

“Yeah im here” voice soft and tinged with concern

“This might be the wildest thing i'mma ever say” with a huff

“Uh..huh” Azzi raises a brow but follows anyways

“I think I- miss storrs?” She said rubbing her forehead

“Really? That's what you built up to?” She says trying to conceal her amusement but her tone was not convincing anyone.

“But seriously what makes you say that?” She asks in a tone so sweet and warming it puts honey to shame

“I just- I don’t belong here” voice cracking for just a second, barely noticeable over the line

“Paige” her voice softening even further

“Azzi” she says teasingly trying to ease away whatever worry she knows azzi’s feeling

“You fit anywhere and everywhere you go, and you know that”

“Do I? This is news to me tell me more” she snorts but she knows what azzi’s saying is real “yeah I know”

They talk about nothing in particular for god knows how long, during god knows when.

How they even find the time for it is truly a challenge itself.

But they’ll always find it, it doesn't matter if it’s 5 hours or 5 minutes.

…

A few days after that call she starts feeling all the isolation she didn’t know she felt in the first place rush back to her when she started unpacking the rest of her things.

It all hits her full force when she opens her polaroid box.

A shoe box she filled with pictures of everyone she could possibly need—her siblings, her dad, the team, coach, and the person who filled most of the box—her love

And that broke whatever show she tried so hard to put on.

That is until home finally found her, when she couldn’t find it.

When she sees the brown eyes she fell into when she was 14 and never left.

And before she knows it she latches all 6 feet of herself onto azzi with no space for air in between. She just stands there for a moment, head buried in her neck, wrapping her arms around azzi like if she held on tight enough her girl would never slip away.

“Do me a favour never leave again” Paige asks wholeheartedly, head still buried into all things azzi.

Earning a small laugh from her, and Paige thinks it’s the best thing she's heard since she’d gotten here.

“I’ll try my best for the 2 days I'm here?” She says slightly amused

“Shhh Im in denial let me have this” and it earns a real laugh from the brunette, the kind that makes you dedicate your life to hearing over and over again.

And as for Paige she’s heard 9 years worth of it and many more to come, whether it's right here or 1000 miles apart she’ll always find a way to hear it.

[ruinix]

dark Quinn tormenting you with the gifts he's leaving behind, making you go all paranoid

Hello, lovely. Another dark quinn request to distract me, I see. My drabbles are taking a hit coz my braincells are literally vibrating with need. Let me try. Read the warning. I am not playing around. 😔 this is deranged. I am sorry.

Whore thoughts. Stalking. Deranged behavior. Truly deranged. Non-con. Dark. Dark. Dark, I say!!! 🤺 (i gave you a cat here...) ⬇️⬇️⬇️

The moment Quinn learned where you lived and figured out how to access your temporary home--temporary since it wouldn't be long until he has you in his--he already got every gift he wanted to give you all planned out.

He would start out small. Things you wouldn't notice or realize it was there, like carefully adding one flower to your vase. The very first one he added was a beautiful red rose in full bloom, while the very recent one was a peony for his sweet girl.

Like putting a couple more fruits in your fruit bowl. Whether it would be red apples which he obviously learned your favorite variety or oranges. He would be so happy whenever he saw you picking up the exact fruit he put there through the cameras. He would be so hard in his pants, making him take a breather in the restrooms which always ended up with him stroking his cock while watching you eat or make smoothies out of them. He couldn't help it. To be able to provide you with little things was turning him on so much.

Then he would start fixing things that he noticed when he installed the cameras and that he saw you tiredly sighing at from to time. The flickering overhead lights in your doorway were changed. The askewed picture frames that kept bothering you were now realigned with the previous hole covered and painted like it didn't exist. Your leaking showerhead were tightened and fixed. The squeaky fucking doors were no longer an issue which were also bothering him whenever he sneaked in during the night. Your torn handkerchiefs and dresses were now wonderfully mended because he did learn how to sew just for you.

It was so amusing to find you all confused when the little inconviniences were not existent now. He caught you trying to open and close your bedroom in the live feed he watched before a game. He couldn't contain his chuckle, earning looks from some of his teammates. How could he when you coincidently noticed the picture frames too? You were so shaken up, calling and blaming your parents because you assumed they broke into your space. He would've continued watching and listening to you all ruffled up, but he needed to play.

After that he would escalate his actions, leaving a whole bouquet by your front door, in the fire exit that's by your bedroom, in your living room. You would be up in arms, calling the cops.

How could you prove it was left inside your apartment and that you didn't take it inside when for some odd reason, your neighbors kept affirming that you've been taking the flowers from a delivery guy? But that couldn't be possible, could it? You were out the whole day. How could you accept a delivery? How was it every time the cameras of your apartment building malfunctions?

Such difficult questions to ask when he got all your neighbors in his payroll now--some were bribed and threatened, some had followed him like a god as their favorite hockey player--and maybe, just maybe, he knew someone in the police. You would feel wronged when the cops wouldn't even take your statement. You would feel fucking crazy that you would sob so hard during the night.

Quinn would hate--hated--your tears. He might have caused it, but he fucking hated it, but then the way you cowered under your bedsheets got his blood boiling and searing down his cock. There was something about how vulnerable you looked, how you would flinch at every sound, how you would look back even in your apartment that he couldn't resist. He needed to see more.

From roses to stuff toys to chocolate bars to dresses. He was leaving everything for you, spoiling you fucking rotten if you would use them. You kept throwing them in a closet, trying to hide them, so sometimes Quinn would carefully lay a curated outfit on your bed with a note: "This would look good on you."

He wouldn't sign it. Fuck, he would like to, but he tried to be sensible when he was absolutely losing it about the possibility of you actually putting on the outfits. He liked leaving necklaces of gold and diamonds, and bags from brands you usually buy from. Did you know you could go to the shop and ask who purchased them? Quinn didn't you do. Or if you do, you wouldn't think about it past the paranoia.

He tried and tried to get you to wear them, leaving more and more notes. His handwriting turned askewed--more shaky, more scribbly--perfectly reflecting the torrent of emotions inside him. A mixture of desperation and wrath that would increase day-by-fucking-day. He needed you to wear what he bought you. Yet you didn't. Not once you did.

The very next day you got a pet with you. A cat. What ferocious looking thing. A little family pet you've taken for protection. It was a sorry attempt, as if a cat could deter him, but the sight of it hissing at your friends, scratching at you, made him concerned. It was beyond feral. How could one's family pet be so...demonic?

He took a great amount of research to tame it. How would he leave you your gifts when you got a guard cat? Research, he did. He would be so worried. He wouldn't want to hurt an animal. A person, he would with no hesitation. But a cat? No. Never. He was not a monster. Still, he would be so troubled.

That was until he met it. It was only staring at Quinn as he laid out your clothes. Then it came sauntering around his leg, rubbing itself on his pants, purring when he leaned down to scratch its belly.

"A protector, huh?" He barked a laugh, taking the feline on his arm. "You wouldn't hurt me, would you?"

It would purr, basically vibrating. With it in his arms, he wrote his note: "Cute cat. It would be a shame to hurt it. Wear the clothes. Q."

Again, Quinn wouldn't hurt such a lovely feline that liked him very much, but he could use it to threaten you. He even signed the card to get closer to you. And it worked. After seeing you scream and break, hugging your poor cat so tightly that it hisses as it ran away from you, you wore the clothes.

You looked so, so, so pretty. Even with the tears. Especially with the tears. He fucked his fist so hard that he came all over the screen. He wouldn't even be satisfied with that. He knew he should be doing the next step to your relationship.

When the night came, after he watched you cry yourself to sleep from the fire escape, he would loom over you. Softly, he would touch your legs and arms, testing your sleep, then he would lift your arms, tying you up securely to your headboard, covering your eyes with a blindfold.

Crawling down to your thighs, spreading them, marvelling how your lace panties look on you. He would glide his thumb over your slit, glancing at you if you would wake up, but you didn't. Well, not yet anyway.

He would lick over your clothe pussy, from entrance to clit, sucking the bundle of nerves that had you rousing. He could feel your confusion and your panic, but he would continue his assault until he could hear your screams, could feel your legs kicking at him but he gripped your thighs down. He would chuckle into your heat as you get wetter and wetter. Your screams turned into moans and whimpers when he tore your panties off you.

"I got you, my Love. Trust me," he taunted.

"Fuck," you replied, your hips jutting up trying to find relief. "No."

"Liar," he laughed, not touching you again. You did say no. "You looked so beautiful in the dress. You liked it, didn't you? I can give you everything. Anything you would want."

You bit your lower lip, shaking your head so adamantly, whimpering when he blew on your quivering pussy. "Please, please, please."

Quinn didn't know you could break him with mere words, but you did. You were pleading for him. Your pitiful attempts to reach him has pushed him further into his depravity. So he licked your pussy, eating you out, pushing and grinding his nose against your clit, listening to your wanton moans. He could only groan as he slid his tongue into your pussy, tasting you, savoring every clench of your pussy walls.

He wouldn't stop until you were at the verge of your orgasm. He would pull away, smirking at your sobs. He tugged his pants down, slapping his cock against your pussy that has you shaking your head again while you plead and plead for more. Such a dilemma.

"I know you're on birth control." He slid his cock. Inch by inch. He gripped down your thighs, his heart pounding at the sight of your pussy greedily takjng him in. The fucking suction you're creating like you didn't want him to escape. "You should stop taking them."

"I won't," you grit.

"Shame," he groaned into your neck. He fucked you hard. No fucking mercy. Giving you the feel of the pleasure you kept chasing months ago before he started tormenting you. Chasing his own orgasm. "I could've given you everything tonight."

He licked and bit your neck, leaving bruising marks. Not cute hickeys. Full on marking you. Harshly. Possesively. He was making you feel everything he could give you with every thrust and every bite.

When he could feel your pussy clenching so hard, he pulled out, jerking himself off. He tried to swallow down the manic laughter bubbling up his throat, but he couldn't because you were just so desperate to come. He wouldn't let you after you rejected his order.

"Does it hurt not being able to come, my Love?" He asked, groaning as he pushed up your nightgown, spilling his seed on your stomach, on your tits. For every spurt, he listened to your sobs. "Next time, baby. I promise."

He kissed your lips, letting you bite down on his lip until you broke his skin. He just kissed you through it, making you taste what you've done.

He parted from you even he didn't want to. He fixed himself as he watched you rub your thighs together. He replaced the camera in your nightstand. He listened to the words lashing out from your beautiful kiss-plumped lips. Empty threats, full of fucking desperation. Oh, you were so full of shit.

He stepped out the fire escape, watching you thrash. "It's a square knot. You can undo it, clever girl."

With that he could easily see working yourself out of the rope, clumsily and shakily.

"Next time, when you're off birth control, I could consider making you come."

He was gone before you could get yourself untied.

Good night, lovelies. I hope you enjoyed that. 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ (cat detail is kinda inspired by Lights Out, but i didn't finish that book from months ago...i dont remember if the cat was feral...)

-> more thoughts? List.