#i think something mightve gotten in it and since i filled it full it probably just began to expand

[smokeys-house]

Ppl in horror movies always freak out when things break or make a mess but tbh couldn't be me. I had a big glass 750ml water bottle I kept on my nightstand and one night ay 2am it exploded on its own and my first thought wasn't ghosts it was "there's water everywhere now great I've gotta clean this up and go back to bed". If my kitchen suddenly exploded throwing everything everywhere I'd be panicked sure but I'd mostly be pissed off I don't have time for that

[rhodesmystery]

um. smutfic. i joked about 3hrs but then got embarrassed about posting until i bought my vow hoodie from bungie and got such a rush and now here we are lmfao 

2.5k words of pwp. god bless. charlie x mc

Charlie finds her standing by the window. Not so unusual, all things considered. One of the first places he always thought to look, whenever they happened to be together. Something about staring out, letting her thoughts get away, eased her. He knew that much. 

However, Charlie had mostly found her clothed in the other times. Or as close to it. A shirt of his that was barely hiding anything wasn’t passable, and it wasn’t the first time he was thankful they had enchanted his windows to be one-way only. He didn’t want to think what would be said about some poor soul walking past and seeing Natasha the way she was. 

With a yawn, loud enough to alert her, and a roll of his shoulders, Charlie steps completely into the room. Mismatched, with parts kitchen, living and dining, all in one. Not that he minded, as it was his. Much like her, as he happily thought, when Natasha turned. Never a hint of sleepiness in her, with bright eyes and lips half turned up into a smile. Yeah, he knew she already knew that he was awake, but it was the entrance that mattered. Especially when he scratches his chest, stomach, only to rest his hand idly on his thigh.

“Morning.” Once, Natasha told him that she loved his voice in the morning. Didn’t tell him what exactly it was she loved, but he had made a note since then to take full advantage of it.

Natasha is surprisingly quiet with her response. A tumble of ‘morning’, that’s soft and private. Charlie might’ve thought something was wrong, if her eyes weren’t pointedly south. That gets a smile out of him.

“Thought you’d still be in bed.” Idle conversation, to fill the gap between him and her. Until he took those seven exact steps to stand before her. “Missed you.”

“Did you now?” Natasha is facing him now, and he can see his shirt was open, not even buttoned in some vague attempt for decency. Like this was some grand scheme of hers (and he was playing right into her hand). “I’m sorry.” Her lack of sincerity was hilarious, and his laughter was infectious, as she giggles to herself. Enough to distract him again. 

Charlie always liked her tits. Or, maybe he should call them breasts outright, to add some politeness to the conversation. But Natasha clasps her hands behind her back, purposely jutting them out at him, that he can see the swell of each, and how the shirt was barely holding on to cover her nipples. He was definitely going to commit this to memory.

“You should be.” Still trying to keep his tone vague. Not focus on how he could almost follow an arrow that pointed down, between her breasts, over her stomach. Like everything was shouting look at me, and he ate it up. Taking a lot for him not to just sink to his knees and eat her until she screamed his name. Forecast was telling him that was his immediate future.

With a fleeting look back at Natasha’s face, to gauge where she was at, Charlie gets a rather satisfied smile. Yeah, yeah, she read his thoughts, thought herself to be so smart about it too. Not like he wasn’t being obvious about it, cock at half mast already just thinking about her. Natasha, in his shirt, unbuttoned and open, and legs spread just enough, leaning against the window, a hand idly running down her front. Like he hadn’t already had that image in his mind since he’d walked out the bedroom.

“What ever can I do to make it up to you?” And the lines were corny, something out of the really bad movies she was fond of mimicking, except with the way she punctuates her words, making it different. Implications abound.

Charlie moves in a bit closer, a half step forward. Until there’s not else in his vision except her, her lips, her eyes, the spattering of freckles over her nose and the mismatched scars along her jaw. Practically swims in the green, noticing they were darker than any other day. And he loved why he knew that happened. Natasha kisses him, and it’s slow, deep, the only touch. Just the tilt of their heads, the slide of their tongues, and each other. Nothing more, nothing less.

Eventually, it’s his turn to make the move. And not to romanticise their positions, knight takes queen, pushing her against the window, pressing against her entirely. Never breaking the kiss, just hands trying to pull the shirt off, to find skin, only to end up with it tangled around her elbows. To trace along the curve of her spine as she arches into him. Natasha moans against his mouth, her nails burning into his shoulders, Charlie please. Please, the real magic word. Held a lot of weight, when applied properly. Like how it sits pleasantly on his head, as he begins a trail down.

Soft kisses, trying to catch every inch he could. Charlie could never tire of this, even if he knew how embarrassed she got. How she insisted on reciprocating. Not that he minded that outcome, of course, but there was something to be said for how Natasha’s face would look, when he looked up at her. Always partway there to covering her mouth, eyes heavy and hair a mess. Chest heaving, and a flush that coloured her pink. He didn’t know how many times he was up to, with calling her beautiful, but he was bound to crack a thousand eventually, surely. 

Natasha just snorts, trying to play off her embarrassment. Hand on his head, edging him down further. Charlie can only grin, kneeling as comfortably as he could, hands on her thighs. Encourages her wider for him, further still. Fingers tease her nipples, and Charlie can only savour the first strong lick in response. 

Something almost like a hiccup escapes her, and Natasha visibly shudders. With two fingers, Charlie parts her lips, and finds exactly what he wants. What he knew would have her all but shake on him. Charlie sucks, nips, laves her clit with attention, trying desperately to keep his eyes closed, but unable to stop from looking up. He loves when she looks like that, flustered and letting control go. 

Fingers that had spread her move to touch, to feel. Dragging across her seam, barely pressing against her. Charlie has to stop from smiling, when he feels the telltale buck as with one finger, he drives in a little further, but never quite enough. So soon? he thinks, but doesn’t complain. Not like he wasn’t in the same boat. At that thought, Charlie runs a hand over himself, pulling away from her clit only to look down, notice he was leaking. 

Not that he wanted to hurry, but with another twist of his wrist against his cock, he turns back. Ah well, he could make it up to her later. 

Tongue pressing against her, Charlie edges in. The slick sounds, normally off-putting in any other circumstance, always made Natasha a little weaker in the knees. Or it might’ve just been his good work, as she’s saying his name, muffled only by the sleeve of the shirt. Fingers circle her clit, and his free hand pulls at her cheek, massaging, spreading. A barely there teasing touch, against her ass, until he leans back again. 

Switching hands, replacing tongue with fingers, Charlie turns to watching her carefully. How her face may contort into something other than pleasure, when he presses one finger in. Slow, turning, brushing along her inner walls. Last night she’d mentioned that she was sore, a little more than usual. Perhaps Natasha knew what he was looking for, in how she meets his eye entirely, whispering his name as a second finger joins the first. No outward signs of discomfort, especially not when her fingers twist in his hair, tugging strands with a certain amount of force.

“Feels good?” Charlie has to ask, anyway. Can’t help himself. 

Natasha huffs, sending hair flying up. “Yes, Charlie, Merlin’s beard, if you don’t make me come, I swear—”

Even though he’s laughing, he cuts her off. One somewhat satisfied customer then. Curls his fingers, thumb pressing against her clit, and laves attention on what skin he could find with his tongue. Scissors his fingers, free hand perhaps the only thing holding her upright as she all but presses her weight down on his shoulders. From how she bent over him, Charlie could hear her whispers clearer, her pleads. 

Nope, not letting go until she’d come, good and hard. She's shuddering, Charlie yes please right there god yes. Charlie knew about the muggle god that her father’s family worshipped. It was oddly satisfying to hear that name mix in with his, to the point where he didn’t know who was who, as he pumped his fingers in and out of her. 

Natasha comes with a low, long moan. Not her first orgasm, no sir, but definitely one that has her lock up and quiver all at once. Charlie rides her through it, slow circles drawn out, just how she liked. Knew exactly where to touch, where to hold, as she comes down. Time isn’t a concept, as Natasha struggles to push herself back up, eventually leans against the window for support.

And then she says: “You’ve gotten better at that.” As if she’s not heaving in air, sensitivity overloading with how Charlie can’t seem to run a hand up her legs without her nearly giving out.

“I’ve had practice,” is what he says instead. If only because he’s getting a kick out of how he splays his fingers over her stomach, and she has to close her eyes. Bite her lip. 

Puffs of air that resemble try to resemble a laugh leaver her. “Oh, really? What’s her name?” Natasha tries to keep the conversation light and teasing, but Charlie knew. Probably a light draft would have her tumble over once again, if aimed right.

“Natasha. You probably don’t know her. Great gal. Fantastic tits.”

When she laughs, it’s the best sound Charlie had heard in months. Head thrown back, genuine kind of laugh, that ignores the situation and encompasses it all at once. Natasha grins, slack and easy, running a finger over his lips. Charlie chases it, nibbling on the tip, which earns him a pointed look. One he was quite happy to keep around. 

Leaning in, Natasha kisses him. Hot and wet, far too much tongue, and he knows that she can taste herself. The knot in his stomach tightens, acutely aware of how he was running warmer than usual. Along her lower back, Charlie drags his nails, finds her hips. Palms her into turning around, breaking the kiss despite her noise of disapproval. And he might’ve told her that if she just asked him to come on command, he would’ve then and there, except Charlie manages to get her with her back to him, hands firmly planted on the window. 

As Charlie rights himself, one hand firmly stroking his cock as he lines himself up, does he notice how Natasha turns to look over her shoulder. As if regaining some bravado in that moment, she smirks, wiggles her hips. 

“This is new for you.” 

With a snort, Charlie can only settle for giving her ass a light slap. “Shut up.” Perhaps he was a little mollified. Not to say that he was the most adventurous, as he knew he wasn’t and more often than not blushed his way into Natasha all but dominating. Definitely not his fault that he was far more favourable of the lower end of the scale. 

Fine, fine. If she was going to be all smarmy about him branching out, then he'd show her! As long as he could figure out how to stop his ears from burning as he eased his way in. Charlie moans, as she's twitchy and wet around his cock, not helping how Natasha pushes up onto her toes, fingers pressed against the glass. With a few blinks, Charlie is able to see just how the glass steamed in front of her, with every breath she took.

“I’m gonna move.”

“Thank god.”

Chuckles dissolve into pitches in breathing. Like there was just not enough oxygen in the room, and Charlie was definitely a little dizzy, enamoured, whatever, when he grips her hips and pulls her back to meet his thrust. Pushes a hand up, moving the damned shirt up with it, following the arch of her back. Until he lets it fall back again, settling for her shoulder to hold instead. 

Natasha isn’t quiet. Not by a long shot. Settled for thanking her later that she’d been the one to soundproof the house on her arrival. Faster harder Charlie pleasepleaseplease. And he tries to keep up what she’s saying, how he lets go of her hip to palm his way to her front. Find her clit and rub at it furiously, which does nothing except have her cover a moan with her arm. Even as she twitches, tries to pull away, tries to keep meeting him thrust for thrust, Charlie keeps at it. Nothing if not consistent. One of her hands joins his, Natasha’s fingers slipping along his, brushing what was exposed of his cock as he continued to move inside her. 

It's when he presses his forehead between her shoulder blades, does Charlie struggle. Hand slipping from her shoulder, he finds her hand against the window, threading fingers and gripping until his knuckles turn white. Embarrassingly so, holding her firmly against him as he comes. Moans against her skin, something that was definitely her name if a little garbled, until she follows only seconds later. 

Charlie doesn’t know how to move. Limbs felt heavy and light all at once, as if he moved even one foot, he’ll just fall flat on his face, either way. Blinking, the world doesn't stop spinning. Not yet, but he gingerly slides himself out. Regrettably, and “sorry,” when he spies the telltale spill begin to trail down her thighs. Too bad he was tired, or it might’ve been able to roll him into action, strangely so (except, he was acutely aware that his lower half was almost numb, brain fuzzy, eyes only trying to find her face).

As she turns, Natasha faces him with heavily lidded eyes, and a very pleased smile. “It’s fine.” But she’s leaning against the window, as if she didn’t trust her own legs too. With a blush that spread to the tops of her breasts, hair mussed and eyes dark, Charlie knew she was beautiful. And told her just that.

Eventually, she slides down, landing on the ground with a grunt. Charlie follows suit, wobbly and flushed, bumping shoulders when he’s beside her. Natasha kicks a leg over his, idly playing with what he could now consider her shirt, until she pulls it up and holds it at her front. Tilting his head back, Charlie closes his eyes, finds her hand, and squeezes it fiercely. 

For several minutes they sit just so. Until, with a sigh, Natasha rolls her head towards him. “Want breakfast?”

Charlie grins, one that slowly builds, that doesn’t even try to hide what he was going to say next. Opening one eye, he looks at her. “I already ate.”