iambeyonce

☆I'll murdel you☆

[totesnotbeyonce]

INTRODUCTION

Beyonce☆

18+

South African 🇿🇦

BLACK

Bisexual 🧚🏽‍♀️

I will only write for black readers PERIODT POINT BLANK

Please dont request smuts, it's not that I don't like them it's just that idk how to write them (I'm very unserious) 😜

Hope yall enjoy 🦅💯

[keytomylockhart]

sexy to someone

Jack Abbot x Reader

i want to be sexy to someone is it too much to ask? sexy to somebody, it would help me out – sexy to someone, Clairo

summary: you finally put yourself back out there and set up a date for your night off. to your utter humiliation, you get stood up. the night takes a turn when you see your attending, Jack Abbot, who suggests you have dinner together since you're already all dressed up.

tags/warnings: age gap (reader is a resident), oral (f + m receiving), dacryphilia, protected piv sex, dry humping, crybaby!reader, idiots in love, ER references because I can't help myself :), the tiniest hint of puppy play, discussions of jack's amputation,

wc: 10k

a/n: I'm realizing that I have a tendency to write about jack abbot saving reader from mediocre and shitty men... and you know what he would!!!! genuinely thought this would be a cute lil 5k fic and then... oh well!! being short-winded is not my thing lol

credits: gif credits to @wesandresons

8:21. 

You checked your phone for the millionth time. 

You were supposed to meet him at the restaurant at 7pm, and he was almost an hour and a half late. 

Well, you hoped he was late. You hadn’t yet accepted the probable fact that you’d been stood up. I mean, you were no stranger to chaotic schedules, unplanned overtime, and last minute catastrophes that had to be dealt with. Residency often rendered your social life moot; you could barely keep up with your commitments at the hospital, let alone a vibrant dating life. Maybe he had an equally demanding job; maybe there was a plausible excuse for why he left you stranded in this Italian restaurant without the decency of a “sorry, not interested anymore” text. 

You looked at your phone again–8:26. Okay, you’d give him 4 more minutes before you decide to pack it up. You try to subtly survey the restaurant for any sign of him, but are met only with the pitying looks of the waitstaff, who would, in all likelihood, be the only ones benefitting from this humiliation ritual. The hostess checked in with you at the bar regularly, the bartender had given you a glass of merlot on the house, and a very kind server brought you a charcuterie board to nibble on–had even brought you extra olives when you commented on how they were your favorite. They were all getting fat tips–or at least as fat as you could afford. 

8:31. Despite your best efforts you felt tears pricking at the corners of your eyes and your throat got that tight, achy feeling that precedes a sob. You felt so foolish. 

You looked up at the ceiling, blinking the tears away and tried to even out your breathing. 

You didn’t even want to go on this date. You’d all but sworn off of dating, the ROI not worth the emotional whiplash you were subjected to more often than not. It was becoming harder and harder as you got older to open up to people, expose your vulnerabilities and greatest fears, only to have them spit back in your face when things didn’t go their way. 

So you stopped with the apps, stopped the meaningless dates that were nothing more than a hookup vehicle for most. But your friends had convinced you that you needed to get back out there, that things would be better in Pittsburgh–the proverbial ocean filled with different, better fish than your hometown. And perhaps they were tired of hearing you wax poetic about the hazel-eyed night shift attending that you had no chance with. 

But you did want to find that person. As much as you were an independent, capable woman–doctor, even–the truth was you were lonely. Your days consisted of going to work, where you spent 12+ hours caring for Pittsburgh’s sickest, and coming home to microwave whatever sad frozen meal you had in your freezer. Sometimes you had the energy to join some of the night shift for post-shift breakfast, but that was about it. 

You wanted someone to share your life with, to ask about your day or if you’ve eaten. Someone who knew that your favorite flower was lily of the valley, but since they were too expensive you would settle for a bouquet of peonies; that you loved horror movies even though they scared the daylights out of you; that knew you loved olives but hated pickles. Someone who knew you, inside and out. 

There was a chasm in your chest that ached, that yearned for someone to take care of you–not financially, though you wouldn’t be opposed to that–but emotionally. To tell you that you were good, worthy, that you weren’t too much or too clingy. That wanted you as much as you wanted them. That felt the tension leave their shoulders when they looked at you, because you just being there made things better. 

Was that too much to ask for? 

It’d been so long since someone had even flirted with you, and even longer since you’d hooked up with anybody. Your dry spell was bordering on sahara levels of arid. Hell, at this point, you think you’d cum for the next guy who called you pretty. 

You shake yourself out of your pity party, dabbing your eyes with a napkin and gathering up the courage to ask for the bill, when you hear someone calling your name. Great. You’re halfway to a breakdown over some stupid guy who stood you up, and now you would have to sit through pleasantries with someone when you desperately wanted to go home and cry into a bottle of wine.   

You turned, fake smile plastered on your face.   

The person you least expect to see is the aforementioned hazel-eyed attending. He’s standing by the hostess stand, off to the side, dressed in dark blue jeans and a tight black shirt. It was unfair, really, how good the man could look in the most basic outfit. His shirt was pulled taut across his chest, muscles straining against the fabric and outlining the planes of his pecs. His hands were tucked into his pockets, his strong, freckled arms on display, and sinful thoughts ran through your head at how those arms would feel around you.  

You smiled and waved at him, reluctantly making your way over. It’s not like you can avoid him at this point, though these are less than ideal circumstances to meet him outside of work. 

“Small world,” he joked as you approached, a soft smile gracing his features. 

“I guess so,” you said sullenly, not up to your usual banter.  

“Big plans for the night?” he asked, eyes skating over your form, taking in the pretty red dress you’d donned for the evening, the light coat of makeup you applied, the hairstyle you wrangled your locks into. In any other scenario, you’d be preening under his watchful eye, giddy that he was eyeing you up and down.  

Now, though, you wilted under the attention. The humiliation from the night and the tingly feeling pooling in your gut at his gaze swirled together in some rancid amalgamation of emotions. You didn’t know if you wanted to laugh or cry or both, but ideally not in front of him.  

Your silence, apparently, concerned him. He looked at you seriously now, his eyes getting that clinical, assessing look in them as he took you in, “You okay?” he asked, genuine concern lacing his features.  

It was the one question you did not want to be asked. Because, for some reason, you could keep it all inside, bury the feelings as deep as they’d go, as long as someone didn’t ask if you were okay. The barest expression of concern had your lip trembling, throat tight as you managed to squeak out a meek, “I’m fine!” 

You could feel a tear tracing down your cheek, and you wiped it away furiously. Your eyes focused on a spot over his shoulder, unable to bear the pitying look that was undoubtedly on his face.  

“You don’t look fine,” he said softly, hand coming up to rest lightly on your upper arm.  

You shook your head, powerless to staunch the flow of tears now running down your face. “Sorry, I just, uh, I had a date tonight and he didn’t show, so,” you made a helpless gesture, your shoulders shrugging in feigned nonchalance. You felt ridiculous, crying over being stood up in front of your attending who was just trying to make small talk with you. 

You let out a garbled laugh, “Shit, sorry,” you hiccup, “this isn’t your problem, I don’t wanna interrupt your night any more than I already have. Have a good night,” you said, moving to push past him and scurry out the door.  

He grabbed your wrist, his grip firm but gentle, his body blocking your exit. 

“You’re not interrupting. I was just about to place a to-go order,” he said, a hesitant look crossing his face before he continued, “But, uh… would you like to have dinner with me instead?”

You're taken aback. It’s the last thing you expected him to ask you. I mean, it’s not like you haven’t thought about him in this context. On the contrary, Jack Abbot had been the subject of many a ‘boyfriend’ dream over the past year you’d worked with him. He was kind and generous and funny, his humor as dark as yours. He was steady in the face of chaos, a lighthouse in the foggiest of days–a man you could depend on when shit hit the fan. It’s part of the reason you switched to nights. You always felt calmer in his presence, more assured of your capabilities because he believed in you. 

And he was undeniably gorgeous–his fine wrinkles and graying curls set your body ablaze each time you looked at him, your panties soaking through in record time. You loved especially when he went a day or two longer without shaving, his scruffy cheeks looking like a delectable place to sit. 

Your mind was plagued by obscene fantasies of him, the sinful images assaulting you at the most inopportune times. You knew he’d treat you right, wouldn’t prioritize his pleasure over yours. He was older, experienced, not a kid fumbling around in the dark, searching for your most sensitive spots and coming up empty. You imagined the way his stubble would feel on your skin, his jaw scraping down your neck as he pressed kisses there, moving lower and lower until he was nestled between your thighs, mouth hot against your aching pussy. The way he would stretch you out and fill you up, have you desperate and begging for more. 

You’re snapped out of your lustful daydream when he says your name, an inquiring tone meant to prompt a response. Oh right, he asked you a question. 

You shook your head, not because you didn’t want to have dinner with him, but because you didn’t want to do so under these conditions; you didn’t want to be a charity case. 

“That’s very kind, but you don’t have to have a pity dinner with me. I’m a big girl, I can handle a little rejection.” 

“It wouldn’t be a pity dinner,” he shook his head immediately, “come on, you got all dressed up, let me at least buy you dinner for your trouble.” 

He cleared his throat, “Unless you really don’t want to, obviously, and I’ll let it go,” he said, “but I’d hate to see you go home cryin’.” And he looked so sincere, his pretty eyes so soft and squishy, all but pleading for you to accept his offer.  

You chewed on your lip, considering it. It wouldn’t be the worst way to spend your night. As of now your plans for the rest of the night were getting sadder by the moment. Things could only go up from here, you supposed. “Yeah, okay. If you’re sure,” you nodded. 

“I’m positive,” he said, hand coming up to rest on the small of your back, guiding you back up to the hostess stand. “Table for two, please.”

The two of you were sat at a corner booth near the back of the restaurant, the section secluded and not too loud. It was a classic Italian restaurant–warm, dim lighting illuminated the space from antique sconces on the wall, the walls were a beautiful exposed red brick, and the tables were candlelit and laid with red and white checkered cloths. The leather of the booth was soft but worn, the cracks spidering out and indenting into the back of your thighs a sign of how well loved this place was. 

The booth forced you close together, your thighs not quite touching each other, but close enough to feel the heat radiating off him. His scent is intoxicating, all warm amber and oud, mixed with a hint of citrus and his natural musk. It took all your power not to burrow your nose into his neck and inhale deeply. 

You were lucky to have the same waitress that checked on you at the bar, though you did have to assure her that this was not the man who stood you up. You were honestly a little concerned at the death glare she gave him at first–a true girls girl. 

“So, Dr. Abbot, how was your day off?” you asked, fiddling nervously with the hem of your dress. Despite your easy rapport at work, it felt awkward to be sitting here with your attending, especially when you were desperately trying to keep your feelings for him at bay. 

“Oh it was fine, picked up a shift with the SWAT unit and didn’t get shot at, so, you know, all things considered,” he said, then waved his hand dismissively, “and please, call me Jack. We're not at work,” a slight blush spreading across his cheeks. 

“Okay, Jack,” you laughed, the tension easing a bit as you threw formalities out the window.  

“I would ask you how your day off was, but I think I have a pretty good idea,” he said with a teasing lilt.

“Yeah, not my best moment. This is partially why I stopped dating, I hate getting my hopes up,” you said, a little more vulnerable than you intended but you supposed you were past that now. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I think whatever man decided to let you slip through their fingers is a fuckin’ idiot.” 

You sputtered a bit at that, your cheeks heating up. It was a kind platitude, and you wished that it made you feel better, but it did little to alleviate the pit in your stomach that made you feel small; that screamed that you weren’t good enough.

“But enough about that asshole. Do you want to order an appetizer?” he asked, scanning the menu. 

“Oh no, I’m okay, thank you.” 

“You sure? My treat, remember, don’t worry about prices.” he looked up, concerned. 

“I’m fine, really,” you bit your cheek, reluctant to spit it out, “our waitress may or may not have given me a pity charcuterie board at the bar.” 

His face was still for a moment before you saw the edge of his mouth betray him, quirking up in a suppressed smile. 

“Don’t you dare laugh,” you warned, your own resolve already breaking as you took in how pathetic the situation actually was. “It’s not funny!” you laughed, smacking him lightly on the shoulder with the menu. 

“No, no, definitely not,” he intoned, a look of mock-seriousness on his face before he broke out into a laugh, “I’m sorry! But it is objectively a little funny,” he hedged, hands held out defensively to block another menu attack.  

“It is not! It means that the poor waitress had to go talk to her boss and ask if they could comp an appetizer for the miserable sad sack at the bar!” 

“She probably didn’t call you a miserable sad sack. Maybe sad puppy dog girl, but not miserable sad sack,” he teased. 

You gasped exaggeratedly, “I am not a sad puppy dog girl!” 

“Oh yes you are. It’s the eyes. And the general obedient demeanor," he smirked. 

Oh. Your tummy twisted at that, but you quickly filed it under things that I simply do not have enough time to unpack right now. 

“You’re mean,” you pouted, lip jutting out and arms crossed. You weren’t really upset, but it felt fun to play it up a little bit.  

“Aww,” he pouted back at you, his tone just a tad condescending, “let me make it up to you. What do you say to some good wine and garlic knots?” 

You gnawed on your lip, considering his offer, “what the hell, let's do it. It’s not like I’m going to be kissing anybody tonight anyway,” you said, a little bitter, before realizing that was probably not an appropriate joke to make in front of your boss. 

“You never know, we could always pull a Lady and the Tramp,” he joked, not looking up from the wine menu. 

You were a little stunned at that. Was he… flirting? No. Definitely not. This was a strictly platonic date. Right? I mean, the puppy comment you could explain away, but this… this was different, wasn’t it? Who just jokes like that about the most romantic canine kiss in history? A joke, you settled on. Because you’d already gotten your hopes up enough for one night. 

Dinner was nice. Really nice. 

Conversation flowed freely, starting out in neutral territory with updates about patients, work gossip, whatever the fuck was going on with Robby. But you soon moved out of the work realm and into personal matters. You told him about your childhood–where you grew up, your favorite childhood pets, how much trouble you got into as a teen. 

And you learned a lot about Jack. That he came from a military family that moved around a lot, but spent a large chunk of time in North Carolina. He had two sisters, both older than him. One stayed in North Carolina and the other lived in West Virginia. Both married to military men, and both notorious for giving Jack shit about everything. But they were his rocks when he lost his leg, and then again when he lost his wife, and he was endlessly grateful for them. 

You both loved 90s alternative rock, which surprised you because you took Jack to be more of a classic rock fan, to which he merely glared at you and said that he wasn’t that old. You both had childhood crushes on Winona Ryder; his borne from her role in Heathers, and yours from Girl, Interrupted. He surprised you with the fact that he was a good cook, a fact that seemed unfathomable to you based on his general vibe. 

Now, though, you’d moved to med school stories, and Jack was regaling you with stories about him and Robby back in the day.  

“We must have been… god, I must have been a third year med student, and Robby was… an R2? and he had really pissed me off that night. I don’t even remember what he did, I just remember being so annoyed at him,” he laughed, shaking his head at the memory, “It was a quiet night, so he snuck off to the on-call room to catch a few hours of sleep, leaving me to do all the scut. So, I recruited the help of the charge nurse, Carol, and our attending, Mark, and we applied a cast to his right leg while he was knocked out.” 

He’s cackling now, almost unable to finish his story between wheezing gasps of air, “we paged him, like, 10 times until he answered, and next thing we know he’s bursting out of the on-call room and onto his ass before he even realized what happened!” 

You’re laughing hard now, too, trying to picture a younger version of Robby gracelessly tripping over an unnecessary leg cast in his hurry to answer his page. It sounded so unlike the self-assured, stoic version you knew him to be.  

“Oh my god,” you wheezed, “how mad was he?”  

“Oh he was pissed. Not because of the cast, but because 5 minutes after we paged him, a 15-car pile up came in and he got benched until he could get the cast off. He had to wait for it to dry before he could saw it off, and the whole time he just sat there glaring at me.” 

“Did he get you back?” you asked, hungry for more crumbs of their life before you, before the Pitt as it was now.    

“Yeah,” he rolled his eyes, “the fucker taped nails to his shirt, took an x-ray, and switched out the real film for the fake before I noticed. I was freaking out to Mark, yelling about how this patient needed surgery before they perfed. Meanwhile Mark was in on it, and made me feel crazy when he pulled out the perfectly normal x-ray for my patient. He said, ‘I don’t know what they’re teaching you in school these days, but this looks like a perfectly normal x-ray,’” he said, in an impersonation you could only assume was Mark.

“That’s fucking crazy,” you giggled, “can you imagine someone doing something like that in the Pitt? I think Robby’d actually have an aneurysm.” 

“Yeah, the old man’s lost a bit of his whimsy over the years,” he shook his head. 

“Old man, huh? Those are fighting words from a man merely 3 years younger than him,” you teased, “and much grayer,” you added with a wink.  

“Watch it, missy,” he warned, then, quieter, “not too old to teach you some manners.”

Feeling emboldened by the wine, you leaned a little closer, “don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Tracing the rim of your wine glass, you looked up at him. You swear his eyes drifted to your lips, but before you could do anything about it, he cleared his throat, steering the conversation back into safer waters.  

“So, why did you get into emergency medicine?” 

You thought about it for a moment, considering how honest you wanted to be. “I wanted to meet people where they were at, help them in a real, immediate way. The traumas are great and exciting, and there’s nothing like making a pickup that saves someone’s life. But I like the less exciting stuff, too. The mundane care that doesn’t save a life, but makes someone feel better. Helps them get over a cold, or helps soothe a burn; suturing up a lac, or removing foreign objects from patients and not making them feel worse about their predicament. That stuff is just as important as the traumas.

Especially with how fucked healthcare is in this country, people come to us when they’re at their most vulnerable, and usually don’t want to be there. I just hope that I can make things less scary for patients when they come in, make sure they feel like they’re cared about and not being judged for coming to us.” 

It’d been a long time since you’d answered that question honestly. Usually, you had your stock answer that you pulled out, which was a more eloquent version of “I want to save lives!” And that was still true, but there was so much more to working in the emergency department than just saving lives. It was paperwork and insurance and bed shortages and nursing shortages and all the other fucked up shit in the world that inevitably contributed to the cases you saw come through the doors at the Pitt. 

“What about you? Was emergency medicine always it for you, or did you ever consider going into something else?” you asked. 

He shook his head, “Not seriously, no. Considered switching to critical care after my leg. I wasn’t sure if I was cut out for the hustle and bustle of the emergency room after that. But it was the only place I wanted to be, so I figured it out, did what I needed to do to get back to where I was before the accident.” 

“Well, for what it's worth, I’m glad you stuck with EM. I couldn’t imagine working at the Pitt without you. I don’t think I’d be half the doctor I am without you,” you said, looking up at him. 

You hadn’t realized how close you’d gotten, his arm slung over the back of the booth and your thighs pressed against each other. 

“Don’t sell yourself short, you’d be amazing with or without me,” he said, tucking an errant strand of hair behind your ear. “You know, I’ve taught a lot of residents in my years, and you… you’re really cut out for this. Not everyone is.” 

The praise made you preen, the proximity of his hand to your face doing nothing to calm your rapidly beating heart. For a brief moment, you think he might lean in, might press those pillowy pink lips to yours, kiss you until you can’t think stra–

“Hi, sorry to interrupt but we’ll be closing in 15 minutes. Here’s your check when you’re ready,” the waitress said, setting the check down and scurrying away. 

You checked the time on your phone: 11:15. Did you really spend almost 3 hours talking to Jack? It certainly didn’t feel like it. 

“I guess we should get out of here before they kick us out,” Jack said, sliding out of the booth and offering you his hand.

You’re giggling at another one of Jack’s jokes as you leave the restaurant, the bill graciously paid by him despite your best efforts to split it. Your limbs were loose from the wine, goosebumps springing up on your arms from the early summer air turned chilly. 

“Thank you for dinner. You salvaged an otherwise shitty night,” you laughed. 

“It was no problem, really. I had a nice time,” he said, leaning against the brick wall, arms crossed.

You mirrored him, shoulder scraping against the gritty brick, and looked up at him. 

“Hold on, I think you have a little sauce on your face,” he said, and before you could grab a tissue from your purse, he reached out. His thumb gathered the sauce at the corner of your lips, going further to brush the pad of it across your bottom lip. The movement dragged your lower lip down slightly, your mouth parting involuntarily with it. You’re not sure why, but your tongue darted out, licked the pad of his thumb and the residual sauce.

Jack’s breath hitched, the sharp intake of air the only thing you could hear despite the sounds of car alarms and drunk party girls on a Friday night in downtown Pittsburgh. 

You looked up at him, tongue still pressed flat against his thumb, and searched his eyes for a sign that the heat building between you is mutual. 

Fuck it, you decided. 

Without thinking about it too much, you leaned up and pressed your lips against his. And god, did they feel nice. They were soft, but firm, and he tasted faintly of the wine you’d shared earlier mixed with the slight acidity of the tomato sauce from his dinner. Your hand tangled in the curls at the base of his neck, and they’re so soft, but also a little stiff. You wondered, briefly, if he uses mousse, or hairspray, or if he’s got a whole curly girl routine down before realizing that oh my god he wasn’t kissing you back. Oh no, oh fuck. 

How did you misread this situation so horrifically? You thought you were getting all the right signals, thought that he liked being with you, that he was flirting with you. But maybe it really was just a courtesy, a pity dinner. 

Your cheeks are hot when you pull away from him, shame sitting thick and heavy in your stomach, numbness prickling up your arms in staticky goosebumps. And Jack is just standing there, the dumbfounded look on his face doing nothing to assuage your embarrassment.  

You backed up, trying to create some distance, to lower the temperature between you that apparently only you felt. 

Looking down at your shoes, unable to make eye contact, you babbled out, “I-I’m so sorry, that was completely inappropriate and I don’t know why I-” your voice cracked and it felt like your lungs weren’t properly inflating with oxygen, “I don’t know how I misread things, but I guess I did so again, I’m so sorry. I’m gonna go home and pretend this never happened,” you said, turning around and starting down the street, despite the fact that you most certainly needed to Uber home, not walk. 

You’re trying not to cry for the umpteenth time that night when you hear him calling your name, “Wait!” 

He caught up with you, only a few strides away from where you were standing, and grasped your arm gently. “Wait, I’m sorry,” he said, a little breathless, “I just… you surprised me.”

“Surprised you?” you laughed, “I damn near sucked your thumb, Jack,” you said, genuinely confused how a man like Jack Abbot could be surprised that a woman would try to kiss him; that the next logical step from erotic thumbsucking would be a kiss. “And you flirted with me all night! You made a Lady and the Tramp joke! How else am I supposed to take that?”  

He rubbed at his jaw anxiously, a slight blush coating his cheeks, “I mean, yeah, I was surprised. I’ve liked you for a while now but then I heard you talking to Santos about how you didn’t want to go out with that cardiology attending and just assumed I didn’t have a shot,” he admitted sheepishly. “And maybe I got a little brazen with my flirting because I thought you didn’t see me like that anyway, figured it couldn’t hurt.” 

It’s your turn to be surprised now. You hadn’t realized he heard that conversation, or that he’d taken the wrong idea from it; the opposite idea, actually.   

You took a step closer to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, fingers finding his curls again, “Well, if you recall, snoopy, I said that part of the problem was that I just didn’t want to fuck that cardiology attending,” you said, looking up at him and batting your eyelashes, “that isn’t the case with you.” 

He looked shocked, but recovered quickly, his confident air returning to him. “Oh, is that so?” he asked, lips quirking up into a smile as he backed you up against the rough brick wall. His hand rested on the wall next to your head, the other on your hip, stroking you through your dress. 

“In that case, please allow me to make up for my rude behavior,” he said, dipping down to kiss you properly this time. 

You’d pictured this moment countless times before, but nothing compared to the real thing. Jack Abbot is a no nonsense man–a wartorn vet who understands more than most the importance of not wasting time. You expected your first kiss with him to be hungry, maybe a little sloppy, but when his lips meet yours, he’s achingly tender. It wasn’t uncertain–there was no question underlying his kiss–it was deep and languorous, like he was content to take his time up against this brick wall and savor the slide of your lips against his because he knew he had you right where he wanted you, finally. 

He commanded you, his hand cupping your jaw to angle your head back, deepening the kiss. His tongue swept across your bottom lip, and you instinctively opened up for him. The slide of his tongue against yours was delicious, the slick muscle curling around yours before moving back to your lips, sucking at your bottom lip and biting down gently. Your mind felt fuzzy at the way he handled you, guiding and taking you how he saw fit.

Some of his restraint dissipated, your mouths moving feverishly against each other. You couldn’t get enough of him; you pulled him into you and hooked your leg around his waist to draw him as close to you as possible. Pathetic, embarrassing whines and whimpers escaped you involuntarily, your body unable to mask how this man was making a mess of you.

His hand fell to the thigh wrapped around him, calloused fingers sliding up under your dress and gripping the bare flesh. He pulled you close, his pelvis rolling against yours sinfully. You could feel the hard outline of his cock against your cunt, your hips thrusting forward to meet the friction. A frustrated moan fell from your lips at the clothes separating you, at the inability to feel his skin against yours. 

You pulled away only when air was necessary–and because you were very close to being cited for public indecency if things went any further. 

“Sorry, I probably taste like garlic,” you said dumbly, fingers tracing over your spit slick lips, numb and swollen from Jack’s attention. 

He laughed, forehead resting against yours, “you taste incredible,” he said, pressing a kiss to your nose, then your cheek, and then under your ear. “I hope I’m not being presumptuous, but my place is a couple blocks from here, if you’d like to come home with me.”  

You nodded, a giddy smile breaking out across your face, “I would very much like to go home with you,” you said, already grabbing his hand and dragging him down the street. 

The entryway is dark as you stumbled into Jack’s townhouse, the walk talking longer than it should have due to your need to drag him into searing kiss after searing kiss every dozen or so steps. 

Jack navigated the two of you through the dark, your bodies unceremoniously plopping down on his couch. You fell onto his lap, knees sinking into the leather cushions and thighs stretching over the wide berth of his hips. Your kisses had devolved from slow and deep to fast and hungry, teeth nipping and clashing against one another, your breathing ragged from the exertion.   

He was rock-hard and throbbing under you, the outline of his cock pressing deliciously against your pussy. The only articles of clothing separating you were the thin, lacy excuse for panties you were wearing and his jeans. Your eyes fluttered closed as you ground your hips down on him, the combination of rough denim and the drag of his cock on your aching cunt forcing loud moans and whimpers from your lips. 

Jack was just as loud, his hips canting up to meet your rolling hips. His hand travelled to the back of your dress, fingers playing with the zipper, “this okay, sweetheart?” he asked against your lips. You nodded, too caught up in his lips to give a verbal answer. 

He chuckled as he pulled the zipper down, easing the sleeves down next and pulling away to get a look at you. He let out a sharp breath, the air stolen from his lungs as he took you in, hands gripping your waist tight and rolling his hips hard against you.  

Your pretty tits were held up in an unlined white bra, your hardened nipples peaking through the barely there lace. He threw his head back against the couch, pupils blown wide as they fixated on your chest. ““My pretty, pretty girl. Was this all for him?” he asked, thumbs running in circles around your areolas. You nodded shyly, a bit embarrassed that you’d put on your good lingerie for some random guy. But it wasn’t all for nought, if Jack’s reaction was any indication. 

“What a fuckin’ idiot,” he mumbled before enveloping your nipple between his lips, sucking the bud through the lace. He captured the other nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tugging and pinching it, then soothing it over in soft circles. The sensation was dizzying. His mouth was hot and wet against your skin, and he knew exactly the right pressure to ride the line between pleasure and pain.

But the lace was getting in the way; you couldn’t feel the scratch of his stubble like you’d dreamed of for so long. You unclasped your bra, tugging on his curls and pulling his face back just enough to let the garment fall down between you. 

A guttural sound left him as he dove back in, lips suctioning onto your nipple and sucking hard, cheeks hollowed out and tongue swirling around the bud. Your hand tightened in his curls, arching your back and pushing your chest against his mouth. He alternated between the two, sucking, licking, and biting at one and kneading, flicking, and pinching the other. You could finally feel the scrape of his stubble against your sensitive skin, your eyes rolling back in your head as your hips doubled their effort, grinding hard against his cock. 

He released your nipple with a wet pop, “you know how hard it’s been keepin’ my hands to myself, pretty girl? and all this time you’ve been hidin’ this pretty set of tits under your scrubs,” he shook his head in disbelief, “don’t think I’ll be able to think about anything other than stuffin’ my face between these tits when I see you at work.”  

His lips returned to your chest while his unoccupied hand moved under your dress, his rough palm gripping the fat of your ass and guiding you over his length faster. Every grind of your hips had your clit bumping up against the head of his cock, the pressure exquisite. Your slick was dripping down your thighs and seeping into his jeans, the schlick schlick schlick steady background noise among your moans and groans.  

You didn’t realize how fast your orgasm was building until you were nearly on the precipice of it, letting out a strangled moan and, “I’m gonna–” before the wave crested. Your thighs trembled, a dull ache forming from keeping them stretched around Jack’s bulk, but it only added to the pleasure that zipped through you. That staticky feeling radiated through you, your pussy contracting and fluttering around nothing. 

You’re panting into the crook of his neck as you ride out the aftershocks, your hips still grinding against his clothed cock, your lips letting out tiny gasps and whines. 

“Did you… did you just cum, sweetheart?” Jack asked, a stunned look on his face. 

You could feel how hot your cheeks were, shame curling through you because yes, you did cum from a little nipple play and grinding on his cock. 

“I-i’m sorry, it’s just been a long time and no one’s touched me in so long and you feel so good, I didn’t think that would happen so quickly,” you said, panicked, “I’m sorry if I ruined things.” 

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s okay,” he said, thumbs brushing away the embarrassed tears you weren’t even aware had fallen, “you didn’t ruin anything, okay? I was just surprised, is all. I’m sorry if anyone’s made you feel that way, but you don’t ever have to be embarrassed with me. Never,” The sincerity of his words triggered a new bout of tears. You buried your head in the crook of his neck again, his scent a calming balm to your nerves. 

“Plus, do you know how much of an ego boost it is to know I had such a pretty girl cummin’ on lap in under five minutes? That’s the stuff of dreams, baby,” he teased, pulling you out from your hiding spot and pressing kisses to your cheeks.

You laughed, still sniffling a bit, “gosh, I’m sorry I’ve been such a crybaby tonight.” 

“It’s okay, honey,” he said, then, teasing, “but I can think of much better reasons for you to be cryin’, and none of them have anything to do with you being sad or embarrassed,” he said, kissing you properly now, tongue licking deep into your mouth. 

You moaned into his mouth, then squealed as he hoisted you up, carrying you to his bedroom. He set you down at the edge of the bed, then properly removed your dress from where it was awkwardly gathered at your waist.

He didn’t waste any time, dropping to his knees and parting your legs, pushing them up toward your chest. “Hold 'em there for me, baby, wanna take a good look at you,” he murmured, eyes fixed on the damp fabric between your legs. You did as he told you, hooking your hands under your knees and spreading yourself open for him. You felt exposed, but the awestruck look in his eye as he examined your pussy sent shockwaves through your body. 

“This all because of me?” he asked, thumbing at your center over the fabric, pressing lightly against your clit with each stroke. Your panties were soaked through, the tiny scrap of fabric doing nothing to obscure your puffy folds that were sticky with a mix of your slick and cum. “What a mess you made, honey. Guess I’m gonna have to clean you up,” he said, pulling your panties to the side and licking a broad stripe from your hole to your clit.

You moaned, hips lifting off the bed and chasing his mouth. The contrast of his hot tongue on your cool flesh was blistering. His hands grabbed the back of your thighs, his fingers digging into the soft skin there and stopping any movement of your hips. You whined at the restriction, your hands fisting in the soft sheets instead.

“Waited so long for this honey, shit, fuckin’ dreamed about how you’d taste,” he moaned into your pussy, mouth lapping and sucking at your folds, gathering all the spend and slick and swallowing it down like nectar. His face was nestled deep into your cunt, tongue exploring every crease and crevice your cunt had to offer, licking, sucking, biting–and taking note of what made you scream. 

And once he discovered it, he didn’t just eat you, he devoured you. He was a man possessed, with no regard for his own need for air. His tongue assaulted your clit, alternating between rubbing tight circles around it, short kitten licks, and long, languorous licks that had him shaking his head between your thighs. Every now and again he wrapped his lips around your clit and suckled it, the light leaving your body every time. Your hips rocked against his mouth despite his hold on you, wrecked moans falling from your lips.  

“Fuck, jack, please–r-right there!” 

“That’s it, baby, let me hear you, tell me how good I’m makin’ you feel,” he said, pulling back just far enough to spit onto your cunt before running two fingers up your slit, pushing them in without preamble. The stretch was delicious, his thick fingers curling deep into your wet heat and finding that sweet spot in no time. He exploited it mercilessly, massaging it with the pads of his fingers. His lips returned to your clit, sucking harshly now, giving you no reprieve from his ministrations. 

“Feels so good Jack! Never felt this good before!” you cried. 

The slurping and squelching was lewd, your moans and breathless cries of his name intermingled to create an obscene symphony that you’re sure the entire population of Pittsburgh could hear. 

“You gonna cum on my face, honey? Gonna give me another one?” he asked, fingers massaging your g-spot. “Wanna–fuck–wanna feel this tight cunt squeeze my fingers when she cums.” 

“Y-yes, please Jack, ‘m gonna cum, feels sosososo good” you cried out, your second orgasm crashing over you. Stars burst behind your eyes, back arching uncomfortably off the bed and walls clenching so hard around his fingers you’re not sure how he hasn’t lost circulation. Your legs clamped around his head, trapping him there as you rode out your orgasm, hips rutting against his mouth and fingers. He didn’t mind, licking and sucking you through it, his fingers keeping pressure on your g-spot until you were pushing him away.

He peppered your body with kisses as you came down, starting at your thighs and making his way up over your tummy, ribs, and breasts. He came to rest above you, a dopey smile on your face as you pulled him in for a lazy kiss. His face was soaked with your spend and you could taste the tang on his tongue when he kissed you. 

“You’re stupidly good at that,” you whispered, body still boneless and floaty. 

“Yeah? Want me to show you want else I’m stupidly good at?” he asked while finally shucking his shirt off. 

“Yeah?” you said absentmindedly, eyes glazed over at the majesty that was Jack Abbot’s chest. You immediately began pressing kisses across the newly exposed skin–to his neck, collarbone, pecs, and tummy. You’re even able to scrape your teeth across a nipple before he holds you back at arms length, laughing.   

“Yeah, honey,” he laughed between your frantic kisses, “but you gotta let me breathe for a sec, gotta take care of my leg.” 

“Let me,” you said, slipping down to the floor and sitting back on your heels. You ran your palms up his thighs, hands coming to rest on his belt before going any further.

“You don’t have to do that, honey.” 

“I know,” you said softly, “but I want to. If you’re okay with that.” 

He cradled your face in his hand, thumb stroking your cheekbone. You turned into it, kissing the palm of his hand to assure him that you wanted to do this. 

“I care about you Jack, and this is part of you. I just wanna help you, wanna make you feel good,” you said earnestly, giving him your puppy dog eyes.

“Yeah. Okay, honey, go ahead,” he nodded, sitting back on his elbows to watch you. You grasped his belt again, unfastening the buckle and pulling the belt through the loops, discarding it somewhere behind you. You moved to the button of his jeans, deftly popping it open and hooking your fingers into the waistband, tugging them down with Jack’s help. 

Your breath hitched at the sight of his dark gray boxers, a wet spot front and center that made your mouth water. You learned forward and kissed the damp fabric, moaning at the slight taste of precum that danced across your lips. 

“Careful, sweetheart…” he warned, but there wasn’t much heat behind his words. 

You just grinned up at him before getting back to the task at hand. Your fingers travelled down to the sleek metal attached to him, getting a feel for the mechanism before unlocking and twisting it off. The liner came next, tossed to the side before you pressed your fingertips into his skin, massaging the skin to get some blood flow back into the residual limb. You pressed sweet kisses to his flesh, from the front of his knee to the scarred flesh of his leg, tongue dipping out to trace the prominent scar just above his amputation site. 

Jack breathed heavily above you, tiny groans escaping him unbidden. A look flickered across his face, and you think, briefly, that this may be the first time you’ve seen him truly vulnerable. It wasn’t a secret that he’d lost the lower portion of his leg in the war, but he didn’t flaunt it either. You wondered if there was an insecurity that lay deep within him, despite his overt confidence; if other women had reacted differently, cruelly even to the sight of his prosthesis. It made your heart ache to think about it, to think of someone doing anything but worshipping his beautiful body the way he deserved.  

“So pretty, Jack,” you whispered, kisses inching higher up his thigh now, “wanna taste you now.” 

When you’re met with the sight of Jack’s cock, you’re well and truly speechless. You knew he was big from your time on the couch, but seeing it was different. He was thick and veiny, the tip flushed a deep red and leaking precum furiously. It rested against his belly, curving slightly to the left. And did you mention that he was thick? Mouth agape, you wondered how you were going to fit him in your mouth. Or pussy. 

You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting there, hands perched against his thighs, just staring at his cock, until Jack tilts your head back, fingers tightening in the strands of hair at the nape of your neck. 

“Thought you wanted a taste, honey. You just gonna sit there and stare at it all night?” he asked, a smug smile on his lips. 

“Maybe,” you mumbled, tongue darting out to wet your lips. 

Before you can do anything of your own accord, his hand is guiding your head forward, the head of his cock pushing gently against the seam of your lips. You take over from there, pressing an open mouthed kiss to his tip, the precum gathered there salty and sticky against your lips. Your tongue dipped out to caress the spot just below his head, running the flat of your tongue along it before moving back to his head, spitting a glob of spit onto him and wrapping a hand around his base. You started with long, slow strokes, squeezing and twisting on the upstroke, your hand meeting your lips where they suckled at his tip. 

You moaned at the steady stream of precum invading your mouth, “taste so good Jack,” you said before taking more of him into your mouth. You're only about halfway down and your lips are already stretched tight around him, spit leaking from the corners of your mouth in filthy waterfalls. You hollowed your cheeks out, bobbing your head up and down his shaft, your tongue massaging the underside of his cock. 

“Fuck, baby, who knew you had such a filthy fuckin’ mouth on you,” he groaned, hips rutting up slightly. 

His tip occasionally hits the back of your throat, causing you to gag and tears to prick behind your eyes, but you don’t care; the feeling of him weighing heavy on your tongue is reward enough. 

You feel a light pressure applied to the back of your head, “deeper, baby, know you can take it,” he groaned. You obliged, breathing deep through your nose and sinking down further onto his cock until you felt him hit the back of your throat and your nose was nestled in the trimmed grey curls at his base. Your hand grappled for his where it was perched on your head, using it to push harder against your head, trying to convey to him that you wanted him to take over; to fuck your face. 

He groaned, hips jerking involuntarily as he realized what you wanted. He gathered your hair in his hands, hips shallowly trusting into the wet heat of your mouth. His mouth was slack, grunts and groans loud as he fucked your face. His pace builds, his cock roughly pistoning in and out of your mouth. Tears are falling freely now, your mouth stretched to capacity and throat being used and abused by his fat cock. 

“See? These tears are much prettier, baby,” he huffed out, thumbs brushing the trails where they fell. “So fuckin’ pretty, crying with my cock in your mouth.” 

You moaned around him at that, the praise and shame swirling in your tummy. Your hand came up to cup his balls, massaging and squeezing them gently between your fingers. 

You’re suddenly pulled up off his cock and into his lap, spit stringing from your shiny, swollen lips. You whined at the loss of him, your mouth feeling uncomfortably empty now. 

“Fuck–you feel too good, honey,” he grunted, setting you back against his pillows, “can’t cum in that pretty little mouth tonight, need to be inside you.” 

He grabbed a condom out of his drawer before moving back to you, sitting back on his knees and rolling the condom on. You let out an annoyed whine. You’ve never hated the more rational side of your brain more than you do right now. You craved to feel him bare inside you–to feel him cum deep inside you, the hot white ropes painting your walls. And while you trusted him implicitly, you knew safety was of the utmost importance, so condom it was. 

“Don’t worry, baby, soon as we get tested, you won’t be able to stop me from fuckin’ this pussy raw,” he groaned, settling between your spread thighs. His body was a soothing weight above you, the warmth he emanated relieving any anxiety you had. 

He gripped the base of his cock and ran it through your sopping folds a few times, the tip catching slightly on your entrance on each pass. “Please, Jack, need to feel you,” you moaned, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him close. 

He cursed before giving in, notching the head of his cock against your entrance and entering you slowly, letting you feel and adjust to every inch on its own. Your head fell back into his plush pillows as he sank fully into you, your mouth open in a silent scream. Your walls were tight around him, clenching viciously at the intrusion–you’d never been stretched so wide, or filled so thoroughly. It felt like the air had been punched out of your lungs and replaced by his cock. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, your short nails biting at his skin. 

You were still for a moment, both your chests heaving as you adjusted to the feeling of one another. Then, once Jack composed himself, he started to move–slow, shallow thrusts at first, your pussy still clenching tight around him, sucking him in greedily with each thrust. 

“Relax for me, honey, that’s it, doin’ so good for me,” he grunted, eyes closed, “pussy feels so good.” 

You willed your body to relax, for your muscles to go lax around him. You shifted your legs up higher, the heels of your feet digging into the soft flesh of his ass. 

“There you go, so good for me,” he moaned, “knew you’d be so good for me.” 

He pulled out again, easier this time, until only the tip remained inside you, then snapped his hips forward. His thrusts were slow but hard, his hips slamming against you each time he bottomed out. The drag of his cock against your walls felt so good, his thick, throbbing length rubbing up against every sensitive spot. You felt every thick vein and ridge, as if they were imprinting into your walls, making a home there. You moaned at the thought of eternity, of Jack making your pussy his again and again and again. 

He was watching you with a wondrous look on his face, his eyes flitting between your blissed out face and bouncing tits. “So fuckin’ sexy, baby, you don’t even understand how fuckin’ gorgeous you are,” he groaned, hips picking up speed, fucking you faster and harder. 

The adrenaline and emotions from the night came crashing down around you. The feeling of his cock dragging through your walls mixed with the sweet words he was whispering into your ear had you feeling exposed and vulnerable, made you feel seen. Your hands were frantic, running over every bit of skin you could get your hands on, needing to feel his skin against yours. You pulled him impossibly closer, his chest now flush against yours, the friction it provided to your nipples dizzying.  

You didn’t notice the tears until Jack was kissing away the salty tracks, his tongue sneaking out to lick up the length of your cheek. “You’re my little crybaby, aren’t you?” he asked, a sweet hint of condescension in his tone, “just can’t help babbling over my cock, huh, baby?” 

You could only whimper at that. The words should feel shameful, degrading, even, but the fondness on his face, the constant reassurance he’d been giving you all night only made you feel warm and fuzzy inside. Because you weren’t a crybaby, you were his crybaby. 

The coil in your stomach tightened, your orgasm fast approaching. He was fucking you hard and fast now, his balls slapping against your ass with a wet smack. “Jaack, I’m gonna–fffuck–I need–” you gasped at a particularly hard thrust, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. 

But Jack knew what you needed before you did, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight circles against it, and you were done for. Your toes curled, heels pressing harder into his ass as you came, white-hot sparks shooting through your body. Your walls spasmed wildly, your orgasm crashing through you in waves. You were absolutely drenched, your pussy gushing around his cock, leaking down your ass and onto the bed. 

Jack wasn’t far behind, his hips stuttering as your walls seized his cock in a vise grip. “F-fuck, baby, you’re squeezin’ me so tight, so fuckin’ good,” he grunted, his hips going into overdrive now, chasing his climax and fucking you hard and deep.

"Cum for me, Jack, wanna make you feel good," you cried.

He ground his hips into one last time, cumming with a loud moan, cock buried deep inside you and hips pressed flush against yours. 

He collapsed on top of you, head resting on your chest. He pressed lazy kisses to your sternum, collarbone, the soft flesh of your breasts–whatever he could get his lips on from this angle. Your fingers carded through his curls, the motion soothing as you tried to catch your breath. 

Eventually, though, you had to part. 

You whined as he pulled out, your cunt empty and cold now that he’d taken his warmth away. He grabbed his arm crutches, disposing of the condom and retreating to the bathroom. He returned with a warm washcloth and began cleaning you up, gently wiping at your swollen pussy and sticky thighs, making sure you were comfortable before tossing the rag in the hamper.  

He slid back into bed when he was finished, laying on his side and pulling you close against his chest. Your head was cushioned by this arm as you curled into him, your sweat slick bodies cool to the touch now that the heat had dissipated. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you,” he said, fingers brushing up and down your ribs, the touch featherlight.  

“Mmm probably as long as I have,” you said, snuggling closer to him.

“Really? When did you realize you wanted to kiss me?”

You didn’t have to think about it at all. “My birthday, on the roof. I gave you a cupcake and you got frosting all over you,” you giggled at the memory, “and all I could think about was how bad I wanted to kiss it all off of your stupidly handsome face.” 

He laughed with you, the creases around his eyes deepening as he did. He was so pretty, you thought for the thousandth time that night. 

 “I remember that,” he smiled, “I remember being so proud that I made you laugh that night.” 

“What about you?” you asked. 

He thought about it for a minute. “I think the need to kiss you has been simmering in me since I met you, but the first time I had the conscious thought was when you patched me up after that patient clocked me in the head,” he said, his hand now on your cheek, stroking the bone there, “you were standin’ between my legs, stitchin’ up my forehead, and all I could think about was pulling you close and kissing you until I couldn’t breathe.” 

“Why didn’t you?”

He sighed, “I’m your superior and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable if you didn't feel the same way.” You knew he didn’t want to delve into the ‘superior’ thing right now, didn’t want to have the long, complicated conversation that was sure to come in the following days. 

“And I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop myself once I started,” he said, lightening the mood a bit. 

You giggled at that, rolling your eyes affectionately. But something nagged in your head about what he said. 

“Wait…” you said, piecing together a timeline, “that was nearly a year ago! You’re telling me we could have been doing this for a year!?” you exclaimed, slapping him on the chest lightly. 

He shook his head at you, a sheepish look on his face. You were both idiots. 

“Well, I guess we have a lot of lost time to make up for, then, don’t we?” he said cheekily, capturing your lips again and pushing you onto your back, determined to make you a very happy woman.

a/n: thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it <33

taglist: @ficcyyfics

[magegodmode]

his muscles im passing away

[shhuuga]

carmy choking you bc im a whore respectable girl

[ carmy berzatto x brown/black!reader ]

carmy loves that you love his hands. they quickly became your favorite part on him because of how efficient he was with them. obviously, he worked with them. he cut and tweezed and did everything else with them in the kitchen. you loved watching him in his element, making you two food with extreme precision. but in the bedroom... it's an entirely different story.

he's obsessed with fingering you. he just loves it so much. the way he uses his left hand to hold you in place while his right moves in and out of you or rubs your clit while his cock splits you open keeps his mind busy all day. even jus cuddling usually turns into carmy, sliding his one of his hands down past your pants (if it wasn't there already) rubbing you softly. he so perverted with it, too, sliding his hand down to your knees and back up to the top of your thigh.

but his favorite guilty pleasure his choking you. sliding his free hand up to squeeze your neck while you're riding his soul out of him, his other hand rubbing your clit. same thing when he's drilling into you with one of your ankles being held up on his shoulder. reaching down to press slightly on both sides of your neck, cutting your airway just enough to make your smile turn dumb, mouth holding open.

his real favorite, though, is when you two are in doggy. that's when carmy just puts you in a full-blown headlock, tucking your neck deep into the crook of his elbow. he pulls you back, deepening your arch on accident and pushing the air out of you. you claw at his elbow, the ecstasy of his cock running through every vein in your entire body. you were trying so hard to scream, to talk, something. but the way carmy was fucking you like he had something to prove, compared with his tight hold on your neck, you were powerless to do anything but moan shamelessly into the smoky air of your bedroom.

carmy just loves making you feel good with his hands. no matter how.

[luxesiren]

⸻ 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐟𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 / frank castle x blackfem!reader

❀ synopsis: frank has baby fever. that’s literally it.

❀ tags: established relationship, merc!frank, housewife!reader, MDNI 18+ smut: oral sex, (m+f receiving), pussy job, pussy drunk frank, cock drunk reader, vaginal sex, panty sniffing, dirty talk, multiple orgasms

❀ a/n: hey guys🫶🏽 this is another frank fueled thought that i had in my messages with my friend LMAOO but uhm henny ways, enjoy🫂

frank was having a dilemma.

lately, he’s been thinking about kids. with every mission he’s been on, his thoughts always drift to you then he dreams about you being pregnant with his kid.

he’s never thought about children this much, or at all. frank didn’t think he was fit for kids, fit to be a father but something about being with you made his mind turn positive to everything.

what really kicked it off was the weekend you both spent at your family’s house. seeing you handle your nieces and nephews with such care made his mind fuzzy and his dick hard.

ever since then he’s been clingy, he knows that. however, he couldn’t help how he felt—there was once in the kitchen where he saw you standing over the counter, drinking your smoothie and eating your fruit when he couldn’t fight his urge to fuck you.

so that’s what he did.

his libido was shot through the roof. it was terrible; once was over the counter, then in the shower, multiple times in your bed, in his office, everywhere that had a surface; he placed you on top of it and fucked you.

each time he would say how pretty you were, rubbing your stomach as if you were growing a baby like you weren’t on birth control but it didn’t keep him from wanting a baby or wanting to impregnate you.

you took notice. of course, you did, how could you not notice his change in behavior? frank was someone who was rarely easily influenced or impressed by things but something had changed and you knew it.

you timed it perfectly. the start of your ovulation cycle happened to land on the same week that frank came back home from his mission.

the baby fever that frank was experiencing seemed like it transferred to you tenfold, every day that he was away made you frustrated because you missed him desperately but also because you craved him more than usual.

the minute he got home, you jumped in his arms and kissed him deeply. “i missed you, frankie.”

he only chuckled, kissing you back and wrapping his arms around your waist. “yeah?” he smirked, walking you to your room before placing you down. “i missed you too, baby.”

you leaned up, standing on your toes to place another kiss on his lips. this one deeper than the last—frank couldn’t help but to reciprocate it, his hands landed on your waist before moving down to your ass.

a simple kiss from the man made your knees weak, hands gripping his big biceps as you both got lost in the kiss. his tongue swiped against your bottom lip causing your lips to part letting his tongue slip beside yours.

he moaned into your mouth, pulling away to look at you. he bit his lip at the lustful gaze you were giving him; your eyes hazy with desire and glossed over.

you bit your lip only for it to be freed as frank ran his thumb over your plump lips—your tongue licked the digit prompting him to slip inside, pressing it down on your tongue.

“look at you. barely been here for a hour and you’re already drooling.” he teased, a smirk covering his face. he took out his thumb and pulled you into a kiss, full of his own lust for you.

his mind dropping images of you round with his kids, glowing and beautiful as ever. he could feel himself twitching in his tactical pants, his cock throbbing from the thought.

you could feel his bulge pressing against you. your hand moved down to rest on his thick cock through his pants. your own pussy dripping from everything; the meaningful touches and deep kisses and the very being that is frank.

you could get high off the smell of him. he was such an all consuming man, your love for him could blur the lines of obsession if you weren’t too careful.

your thighs clenched together on instinct, fighting against your desire. your mind felt cloudy, you weren’t thinking about anything but being fucked by your man.

his lips trailed down your jaw to your neck, leaving small kisses over the expanse of your skin. he took a deep breath getting drunk off the smell of vanilla, he kissed your shoulder.

your head tipped back as his lips found your neck again, kissing and sucking a mark on your bare skin.

the words flew before you could stop them, barely thinking about it. “give me a baby. i want a baby, frankie.” your soft voice begging for the very thing he constantly thought about.

too much blood flowed south and quickly, he was dizzy as he came from the thought of filling you with his cum and fucking a baby into your cunt. his hand tightened around your waist, gripping the fabric of your dress as he came in his pants.

frank groaned deeply making you gasp softly but also a deep pride settled deep within your spirit. something about frank coming from the thought of you giving him a child, a family, a home was attractive to see.

he didn’t speak for a moment, just frotting against you. “you-you really want a baby?” his voice thick and raspy.

you nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck and his beard scratching against your cheek. “you just came?”

embarrassment racked through his body when he thought about it, “got too excited.”

you giggled, licking your lips and pulling back to look at him. “it was hot. i liked it.” you teased, running your hands down his chest. your fingernails scratching against his compression tee, pulling out from his pants as your fingers dipped into the waistband.

frank’s eyes never left yours, his breathing took a turn. a slight hitch once he heard his button pop free, a devilish grin settled on your lips as you dropped down to your knees.

you looked at the thick bulge and the wet patch right over the tip of his cock. you bit your lip as your hand wrapped around his shaft and pulled his boxers down. his cock was thick and covered in his cum, twitching in your hands like it was desperate for attention. the tip was still oozing cum that dripped down his shaft and to his balls.

the tension in the air was thick enough to be cut with the sharpest knife you could muster. his piercing, hungry gaze watched your every move—everything about it was seductive and alluring, he was losing his mind.

he bit his lip as your tongue licked up his shaft, laving over every vein before you kissed the tip. the taste of his cum lingered on your tastebuds; salty and creamy, you were ready to swallow him whole.

a drawn out moan could be heard from him as you took his cock into your warm, wet mouth. you bobbed your head slowly, hallowing your cheeks as you took him deeper down your throat. frank’s hand landed in your hair, only resting on your head unmoving.

his jaw slack as your spit trailed down his shaft and your hands massaged his balls. “you look so fucking pretty taking my cock like this.” he said, breathlessly. his hips started to rock, fucking your throat slowly, letting you adjust to his pace.

your clit was throbbing, a wet patch on your panties steadily growing as you sucked his cock. his soft praises flooding your mind, making you whine. you lifted up your dress, your fingers teasing your inner thighs.

a shiver ran down your spine as your touch went straight to your core. you sucked on his cock as your fingers dipped in your panties, teasing your folds and shyly brushing over your clit.

frank watched you tease yourself, watching your hand dip underneath your dress. he looked back at your face seeing tears form in your waterline making your eyes glossy, “look at you playing with your pussy as i fuck your mouth. god, you’re gorgeous.” he voiced, his hand coming down to caress your face.

you gagged on his cock as you sped up your pace, his tip hitting the back of your throat as your finger brushed over your clit, the hardened bud reacting to the pleasure making you jolt.

the tight coil of desire steadily building within the both of you. your fingers dipping into your pussy, slick dripping over the digits as you moved faster. frank’s voice registered to you as you kept going, everything he said going straight to your core.

“i can’t wait to fuck you. gonna give you a baby, you want that?” he said, his hips moving faster and his hands gripping your hair gently. he fucked your mouth with fervor making you gag on his cock, tears streaming down your face.

he groaned deeply as he came down your throat before pulling out, a small amount of cum dripped off his cock and onto your lips. he watched your tongue swipe at the dribble, groaning deeply at the sight.

you swallowed every drop, licking your lips clean off anything left. you stood on shaky legs, your clit throbbed as you looked at frank drop down to his knees to return the favor.

he lifted up your dress and pulled your panties down your legs, watching your pussy glisten. he sniffed your panties, deeply inhaling the smell of your arousal before he placed them in his pocket for safe keeping.

he felt feral looking at your pussy. his mouth full of saliva, drool in the corner of his lips before he dove in. your hands flew to his hair, gripping the dark strands as he licked into your cunt.

his hands wrapped around your waist as if he was worshipping you, keeping you upright so he could keep tasting you. his lips wrap around your clit, sucking the pretty pearl into his mouth—he whined into your cunt, feeling drunk off your taste, his desperation showing.

your thighs trembled as you moaned loudly, your hips moved, slightly humping his face as he ate you out. his tongue dipping into your cunt and fucking you slowly, licking your walls before pulling out and licking your folds.

the sweet taste of your pussy making him dizzy, in a daze as he tried to make you come from just eating your pussy. “f-frank, fuck i’m gonna come.” your voice quivered, a small whimper leaving you.

frank didn’t care, he wanted it all. he needed to taste your cum on his tongue, he felt like he was going insane. your thighs shook around his head as you finally came on his tongue, your body spasming on top of him.

he licked every drop from your cunt before he grabbed the dress from the bottom and lifted it off your body as he stood over you. he tossed it aside, looking at you with nothing but love in his eyes.

his cock was twitching back to life as he eye roamed down your naked body on display. “you’re gorgeous.” he said before he smashed his lips against yours, his hands moving to your thighs and picking you up. he adjusted so the palm of his hands touched your back and your legs were over his elbows, he lifted your body a bit as he grabbed his cock and stroked over it slowly.

he lined up with your core, pressing the tip of his cock into your cunt and dropping you down slowly. your head tossed back as you gasped at the feeling of his cock pushing inside of you. he watched as your face contorted into ones of pleasure as he stretched your pretty cunt with his cock.

his hands gripped your hips, fucking his cock into you slowly, making room for himself inside of you. his tip grazed your cervix a few times, his tip kissing it over and over.

you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, nails digging into the skin through his shirt. your moans going straight into his ear, “frank, fuck…t’s too deep.”

frank cooed, smirking as your pussy tightened around his cock as he sped up slightly, dropping you onto his cock with every thrust. “you can’t take it? you can take it, i know you can.” he groaned as your pussy kept sucking his cock in deeper, “look at you dripping all over my cock.”

his balls slapped against your ass, the sound ringing out in the room as he thrusted into you. you let out a soft whimper as you felt his cock hitting your g-spot repeatedly—your arousal building steadily after edging yourself, the tight spring in the pit of your stomach only getting stronger with every thrust.

until, “frank, frank, m’coming please.” your orgasm washed over you, making you boneless in his hold. your eyes roll into the back of your head as you came around his cock.

slight spasms racked through your body as you came down from your release. frank walked over to the bed and laid you down on the sheets, catching his breath as his cock slipped from your cunt, covered in your juices and precum oozing out of the tip.

you spread your legs and slid two fingers into your cunt, spreading the folds to reveal how greedy you were feeling. puffy walls glistened, tempting frank back in like the call of a siren.

frank beckoned towards you, eyes flittering over your body before locking onto your face. he pulled off his shirt, tossing it aside before doing the same to his pants and underwear.

he stood over you, your legs spread wide as he stared shamelessly at your begging cunt. his thumb rubbed over your clit, watching you whine and bite your lip. “yeah? feel good, baby?”

you nodded but that wasn’t good enough, “use your words, pretty. do you feel good?”

“yes, baby…fuck me please.” you begged softly, watching his thumb circle your cunt over and over again.

he gripped his cock, slapping the tip on your clit relishing at the sound of your sticky juices meet his sticky tip. he thrust shallowly, fucking your clit and letting his cock slide between your folds easily.

frank couldn’t keep his hands off you, you were gorgeous. he watched your jaw slack and your eyes go hazy, cock drunk off him in the same way he was pussy drunk and obsessive over you. not a thought in your head as you let him use you.

your hand met his chest, sliding down the expanse of skin and feeling his solid body against yours. your fingers dipping further to meet his happy trail and wrap around the base of his cock making him groan.

you applied a bit of pleasure and let his cock glide down your folds just as he thrusted up, fucking your hand and pussy at the same time. “come on, frank…give me a baby.”

those words driving him insane as you softly begged for it. he gripped your thighs before pulling back and pushing in without hesitation, making you both moan from the intrusion. your pussy clenching around him with every thrust, he was snapping his hips against yours.

you gripped the sheets, moaning loudly as you felt his hands on your waist and his cock moving deeper into you. sweat coated your forehead, the temperature of the room only growing hotter the more you both rocked against each other.

frank watched your breasts bounce with every thrust making his mind drift to how they would only get bigger as your pregnancy progressed, filing with milk and tempting. his mind raced as it filled the picture, he leaned down and latched onto your nipple, licking the bud and feeling it harden against his tongue. he kissed and sucked on your breasts, leaving marks before he pulled away to look at you.

“baby, fuck. i wanna give you a baby so bad, you’d look so pretty.” he cried, mumbling praises and practically begging to give you a baby.

you caressed his cheeks, looking at him, “please come in me. i want it, god, please.” begging to come before pulling him down to kiss him, moaning into his mouth as you came around his cock for the second time.

he kept moving his hip, fucking you deeply as you came around his cock. he didn’t want to stop, wanting to save his orgasm; he was edging himself as he fucked into you.

he speed up his pace before slowing down. he carved his way into your pussy, his cock gliding against your walls, dragging delicately on your overstimulated walls. his hips snapped against your hips, making you move up on the bed—his thrusts were rough as he dug deeper into your pussy before pulling out.

he flipped you over and placed you on your hands and knees, lining his cock with your entrance and pushing into you. your arms gave out and flopped onto the bed, putting your back in an arch as he started to move.

your body was tingling, your nerves alert and alive in response to your arousal, goosebumps covered your body. you gripped the sheets and your toes curled from all the sensations—he was lost to the feeling of you.

frank gripped your hips and dragged you back to meet every one of his thrusts. his cock twitched at the way you tightened around him, his balls smacking your clit with every push and pull.

he leaned down, kissing down your spine before he whispered in your ear. “your pussy feels so good. i wanna be drunk off it all the time, can i, baby?” his breath heavy, panting against in your ear before a soft whimper leaves his lips.

he felt his arousal building quickly, heat rising all over his body as he sped up his thrusts. his eyes rolled into the back of his head as you milked his cock. your pussy dripping and creaming all over his cock, he couldn’t help but to watch you suck him in every time he tried to pull out and push back in.

you looked back to watch his face contort as he watched his cock slide in and out of you. you moved your hips fucking yourself back on his cock, “please frank..” you said breathlessly.

one look at you and he filled your cunt, slamming his hips against yours and keeping them there as his cock twitched and emptied his cum. he slowly pulled out, letting out a breath as he left your grip.

your legs felt like jelly as you collapsed against the bed, feeling frank laying on top of you. his heavy body wrapped around you, you were content for a moment before you felt the weight go away briefly.

frank gently flipped your position with you on top of him. once you were comfortable, you kissed him softly running your fingers through his hair as the kiss deepened and then slowed down again.

—

a/n: thanks for reading!! i hope guys enjoyed and i hope it doesn’t seem crazy cause i am a little high😀 but uhm yeah i will be posting this on ao3 as well (dior4you)

[totesnotbeyonce]

’Eveng luke tiyawn.

Avatar fire and ash:

 'eveng luke tìyawn (child without love)

Aonung x y/n (Kefilwe)

Characters: 

Y/n or Kefilwe (my name…)

Aonung

Loak

Kiri

Tseyira

Roxto

Spider 

(all the adults)

Kefilwe’s mother’s backstory :

Y/n or Kefilwe’s mother was a human turned navi just like Jake. She was a marine biologist. One day she went out by herself to explore and study more marine life, but then she was attacked and captured by a member of the Mangkwan (Varang’s brother), who held her hostage and raped her. She was kept as a prisoner, fell pregnant, then died giving birth. In her final moments, she named her baby Kefilwe, meaning" I was given. Though born without love, kefilwe’s mother believed she was given a miracle.

Y/n or Kefilwe’s backstory:

As Tsahik Varang decided to raise Kefilwe, she taught her the ways of fire. Unlike Varang, Kefilwe shies away from the flames. She was a loving child full of empathy and compassion, so she was not respected, but Varang loved her anyway. At 15, Varying had become a tsahik and leader of her clan and wanted Kefilwe to do the same, to show power and no fear, but the girl couldn't. Instead, she showed her caring nature to all despite the rejection she got. Having had enough of the mistreatment and hatred shown to her by her people, she ran to seek kelku elsewhere. Which leads her to the outskirts of the metkayina clan.

[totesnotbeyonce]

I didn’t know whether to make this an x reader or an oc, so for the time being I used my own name. If y’all don’t fw the oc please let me know, then I’ll make it an x reader 🧍🏾‍♀️

[totesnotbeyonce]

’Eveng luke tiyawn.

Avatar fire and ash:

 'eveng luke tìyawn (child without love)

Aonung x y/n (Kefilwe)

Characters: 

Y/n or Kefilwe (my name…)

Aonung

Loak

Kiri

Tseyira

Roxto

Spider 

(all the adults)

Kefilwe’s mother’s backstory :

Y/n or Kefilwe’s mother was a human turned navi just like Jake. She was a marine biologist. One day she went out by herself to explore and study more marine life, but then she was attacked and captured by a member of the Mangkwan (Varang’s brother), who held her hostage and raped her. She was kept as a prisoner, fell pregnant, then died giving birth. In her final moments, she named her baby Kefilwe, meaning" I was given. Though born without love, kefilwe’s mother believed she was given a miracle.

Y/n or Kefilwe’s backstory:

As Tsahik Varang decided to raise Kefilwe, she taught her the ways of fire. Unlike Varang, Kefilwe shies away from the flames. She was a loving child full of empathy and compassion, so she was not respected, but Varang loved her anyway. At 15, Varang had become a tsahik and leader of her clan and wanted Kefilwe to do the same, to show power and no fear, but the girl couldn't. Instead, she showed her caring nature to all despite the rejection she got. Having had enough of the mistreatment and hatred shown to her by her people, she ran to seek kelku elsewhere. Which leads her to the outskirts of the metkayina clan.

[totesnotbeyonce]

Uhmmmm yeah

hi, ik I was meant to post a fic… I won’t like I forgot, then I watched avatar fire and ash for the first time today and I was like why the hell not. So now I’m here… I’ll post the preview and if y’all like it I’ll make the full fic. This is my first time writing something ever, I thought tumblr would be a great way to practice so like please don’t be too harsh w me

Xoxo da goat 💋💋

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

MY BOYFRIEND IS PINK?

Cooley notes: (Steven universe x fem wb!reader) sleeping over at Steven's and he turns pink in his dreams

A bright, unnerving light hit your face, making you toss and turn in bed. Staying over at Steven’s for the summer was supposed to be a nice change something better than the cold, dingy manor. Gotham was still gloomy, but Beach City was warm and lively.

You groaned restlessly, feeling that light shine past your eyelids.

“Stevey, please turn off the lights,” you mumbled, thinking your boyfriend must’ve gotten up and turned them on.

But the light only grew brighter and slightly pinker. You nudged him gently.

“Baby, please… turn off the light.”

Pulling the blanket over your head didn’t help. The glow still pierced through, annoying and persistent. You lifted your head, blinking your eyes open only to be flashbanged by pink light.

It wasn’t a lamp. It wasn’t a light.

It was him.

“Oh wow… Steven?” you whispered, ruffling his black hair gently. He groaned softly, eyes fluttering open eyes that looked like diamonds, and they were just as pink.

“Hmmm… yes, Star?” he murmured sleepily.

“You’re glowing in your sleep. Is that a gem thing, or…?”

Steven sat up fast, panic flashing across his face as his glow intensified until he looked like a flare.

“Glowing?! Is it bad? Tell me it’s not bad!”

“No, no, it’s fine,” you said quickly, wrapping your arms around him and rubbing his arm. “It just startled me a little.”

He took a shaky breath, the pink light dimming into a soft, gentle glow something warm and comforting instead of blinding.

“There,” you smiled. “Now you look like the perfect night light.”

He chuckled groggily. “Night light? More like a nice glow stick.”

You laughed as he kissed your neck softly, pulling you closer until you were lying on top of him again.

“Don’t worry,” you whispered. “I don’t mind that you’re sometimes pink.”

“Really? If I was a pink giant, would you still love me?” he teased.

You laughed again. “You’re already a pink giant my pink giant.”

You tilted your head and pressed a kiss to his lips, the soft pink light wrapping around you both like a warm sunrise.

[scarletwriter101]

THE SPACE BETWEEN

Summary: You and Bobby Franklin were never officially anything. Still, after years of almosts and unspoken feelings, watching him build a life with someone else becomes harder than you can bear. Now, just as you're preparing to leave him behind for good, a hidden doorway beneath Clark's Furniture Store opens—and it leads somewhere no one was ever meant to find.

***************************

Part 1

You met Bobby Franklin in your first year of high school, and the two of you became inseparable almost immediately. You and Bobby had spent so much time together over the years that people began to ask if you were dating. Eventually, they stopped asking and simply assumed you'd get together one day. Neither of you ever corrected it very enthusiastically, and neither of you ever adressed the obvious tension lingering beneath the surface.

You were never officially anything, and maybe that was the problem. There was never a rejection to move on from, never a confession to clear up things, only an endless stretch of almosts that followed you through high school and into adulthood. Maybe you were just too young at first, and then too scared later, because admitting your feelings would mean risking the one thing you already had. Despite everything, though, your friendship stuck through the years, even when everything else changed, and he eventually became one of the most important people in your life.

By the time Clark hired both of you at his furniture store, it felt like nothing had really changed.

The store sat on the edge of town, isolated and quiet, with rows of furniture stretching beneath fluorescent lights and entire afternoons passing without a single customer. Most days, it was just you, Bobby, and eventually Kat.

At first, you didn't think much of her.

She was friendly enough, easy to talk to, and she fit into the store surprisingly quickly. You never saw her as competition because competition implied there had been something to compete for in the first place.

Until one evening after work.

The parking lot was nearly empty, glowing under the orange glow of streetlights. The parking lot was nearly empty except for a handful of employee vehicles scattered beneath flickering streetlights. You were halfway to your car when movement caught your attention from the cars next to yours.

That's when you saw them.

Bobby's back was pressed against the side of Kat's car.

Kat was standing on her toes, and their mouths were pressed together.

For a moment, your brain simply refused to process what you were seeing. As if sensing another presence, they quickly pulled away from eachother.

Bobby pulled away first, and his eyes found yours immediately. The look on his face made it worse—not surprise, not embarrassment. It was something almost like....guilt.

Kat followed his gaze and immediately spotted you standing there.

Her face lit up.

"We're sorry," she said before either of you could speak. "We just made it official! I was gonna tell you tomorrow."

The smile she wore was bright and genuine. You looked at her, then at Bobby standing beside her, and forced a smile onto your own face.

"That's great," you heard yourself say.

You weren't sure how convincing it sounded.

You mumbled something else before turning and heading for your car as quickly as you could without outright running. Your vision blurred for a second once you got inside, but you blinked hard until the feeling passed. You felt stupid for even crying in the first place, but you couldn't help it. All those years in which you convinced yourself that your feelings were being reciprocated sat heavy on your chest.

--

After that, everything changed.

Not visibly. Not in any way that anybody else would notice. But the familiarity that had existed between you and Bobby for years suddenly felt gone.

You found yourself hyperaware of everything. The way Kat smiled whenever he walked into a room, how their shoulders brushed together when they talked and laughed with eachother.

Neither of them ever overdid it. If anything, they seemed careful around you, and that somehow made it worse. Every small act of consideration strangely felt like a confirmation that they knew, and maybe they did. Maybe Bobby had always known. That thought made you feel even more miserable.

Weeks turned into months. The conversations between you and Bobby gradually dulled into professional necessities.

"Could you check if we still have that dining set in stock?"

"Clark wants those boxes moved."

"Can you cover the register for a minute?"

Nothing more.

Every now and then, you would catch him looking at you. It was never for long, and you always looked away first.

-

When you heard they had moved in together, it felt like a breaking point.

One afternoon, you finally filled out your two weeks notice and headed toward Clark's office before either of them could find out.

Unfortunately, Bobby rounded a corner before you got there. His eyes immediately dropped to the paper in your hands, and his expression hardened.

"You're quitting?" the question came out sharper than you expected.

You shrugged.

"Dunno. It just seems crowded here. Barely any customers come in these days, and Clark can hardly afford to pay all three of us as it is."

The excuse sounded ridiculous the second it left your mouth. Judging by Bobby's face, he knew it too.

Something flickered behind his eyes. "You've been here for years."

"Yeah."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

He looked like he wanted to say something else.

Instead, he stepped aside and let you pass.

-

You missed the next two shifts after that, and when you finally returned, Clark seemed like an entirely different person.

Excited. Restless. Obsessed, even.

The moment you walked through the doors, he started rambling about something he'd discovered beneath the store.

"You guys need to see this," he kept saying. "Seriously, all three of you."

When the four of you eventually made your way downstairs, you immediately noticed the tension between Bobby and Kat.

They weren't standing together, and they weren't speaking much either. At one point, your gaze dropped to their wrists. The matching string bracelets they'd worn for months were gone.

You frowned. Before you could think too hard about what that meant, Clark, who noticed the two of them acting so stiff, suddenly turned towards them.

"Look, guys, whatever you're going through can wait a couple more hours, okay?" he said. "I really need your heads in this."

The two exchanged a look but said nothing.

Then Clark pointed toward the nearest wall, where a rectangle made out of tape caught your eye. The size of it carried resemblance to one of a door's.

"Watch this," Clark said.

Before any of you could stop him, he stepped forward and walked straight through the wall.

The basement fell silent. You, Bobby, and Kat stood frozen.

"What the hell?" Kat whispered.

A second later, Clark's muffled voice echoed from somewhere beyond the wall.

"Guys! Guys, come on, you have to see this!"

Bobby let out an incredulous laugh. "No way."

He immediately approached the wall, excitement overtaking whatever sour mood he had been in earlier.

"Clark?" he called.

"Yeah! I'm serious, get in here!"

"You're messing with us." you said, finally gaining your senses back. You stared suspiciously at the shape on the wall.

"I'm not! Come on!" came Clark's response.

Bobby looked over his shoulder at the two of you girls, grinning widely "There's gotta be a hidden room or something."

"You don't know that," Kat said nervously.

"Well, I'm gonna find out."

Before either of you could stop him, Bobby reached out and pressed his hand against the taped rectangle. His arm disappeared through it.

His grin widened. "Holy shit."

Then he stepped through, leaving you and Kat alone together in the basement. You looked over at her, noticing the worried expression on her face. When you locked eyes, a mutual agreement settled between you, and you both stepped through the wall after the boys.

-

Clark's excited rambling followed the three of you through the impossible hallways beyond the wall, his voice bouncing across yellowed wallpaper and stained carpeting as he hurried ahead. Every few steps he would glance over his shoulder with the same manic grin, asking if any of you understood what this place meant, only to continue talking before anyone could answer.

You stayed near the back of the group. Kat walked a little ahead of you.

Bobby remained closest to Clark, his curiosity getting the best of him as he recorded every step of the way with the camera he had in his hands.

The deeper you ventured, the more disturbed you felt. The hallways seemed to stretch on forever. Every turn revealed another identical corridor ahead, and yet Clark moved through this yellow maze with confidence, as though he knew exactly where he was going.

Eventually, the four of you entered yet another yellow room, which seemed no different that any other room—well, except for the square-shaped hole in the wall and a bed in the corner.

Clark pulled out a length of rope, which made your stomach tighten.

"No" you said, but Clark ignored you completely.

"We need to see what's down there"

"We absolutely do not need to see what's down there." you insisted.

Clark turned towards Kat and Bobby "We came all this way."

Kat shook her head "Clark."

"Relax" he said, then tossed one end of the rope towards Bobby.

Bobby caught it automatically, and Clark's grin widened.

"Oh, absolutely not." Kat said.

Bobby laughed "What?"

"You're not going down there." you insisted, almost like a plead.

"Why not?"

"Because it's insane!" you said, exasperated.

Bobby looked between all three of you. Then he shrugged.

"Honestly, she's got a point."

Relief immediately flooded through you.

Only for Bobby to continue. "But now I kind of want to know what's down there."

"Oh my God." you dragged a hand across your face.

Bobby's laugh echoed through the room. For a moment, everything almost felt normal again.

Then the rope was around his waist, and he was standing at the edge. Slowly, the three of you lowered him into the darkness.

"How's it look?" Clark shouted.

A few seconds later Bobby's answer drifted upward. "Still creepy!"

Your hands tightened around the rope. The knot in your stomach had only gotten worse.

"Can you see anything?" Clark shouted. Bobby began describing the room, with the clothes laying around and the smell.

Then, a pause followed.

"Wait." The tension in his voice immediately caught your attention.

"What?" Kat called.

Another pause. The rope shifted.

"Bobby?" you called. Nobody answered.

You looked toward Clark. "We have to pull him up." you demanded, already tugging at the rope.

"What do you see?" Clark yelled.

The response came back immediately. "Pull me up."

Your stomach dropped.

"Pull me up!" The fear in Bobby's voice hit all of you at once."NOW! "

Without another word, all three of you started hauling the rope upward. Your hands burned against the rope. Kat stumbled beside you.

Then Bobby's hands appeared over the edge. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, his grip tight enough it hurt, but you didn't even mind.

His terrified eyes found yours "Get me out!" He shouted

"We got you!" Clark yelled as he grabbed hold of his shirt.

Together, the three of you dragged him almost completely out. His body was over the edge when the rope suddenly snapped tight again. The force of it nearly yanked you off your feet.

"What the hell—" Bobby began saying, but he never got to finish the sentence.

Something on the other end pulled hard, the rope whipped violently through the room and Bobby's entire body jerked backward, towards the hole.

His fingers nearly slipped from your wrist.

"No!" Kat screamed.

You immediately dropped to your knees and grabbed his forearm with both hands. Clark lunged forward as well, seizing Bobby's other arm while Kat grabbed onto the back of his shirt.

His hand tightened painfully around yours. The terror on his face was unlike anything you'd ever seen.

"Pull me up!"

"We're trying!" you screamed back.

You could feel him trembling. "Don't let go!" he shouted.

Another violent jerk ran through the rope. Clark lost his footing, and the sudden shift nearly ripped Bobby completely from your grasp.

For one horrible second, your eyes locked. You watched pure fear spread across his face.

The next pull was stronger than all the others combined. Your grip finally broke, and his hand slipped from yours.

Then he was gone.

A scream tore from your throat as Bobby disappeared back into the darkness. His own scream echoed through the tunnel, growing fainter as he was dragged deeper below.

You knew that sound would haunt you for the rest of your life.

Before any of you had the time to register what had just unfolded, a loud crack echoed through the room. You looked back just in time to see the heavy bed Clark had anchored the rope to begin sliding across the floor.

"Oh my God," Kat whispered.

"Run!" Clark shouted, but it was already too late.

The bed slammed into all three of you, pushing you through the hole. The world flipped upside down as the tunnel swallowed you. After what felt like an eternity of tumbling, you finally hit the ground. The impact was so hard the air got knocked out of your lungs.

For several seconds, you could do nothing except lie there gasping. Then Bobby screamed again, and the sound made you immediately push yourself upright.

"Bobby!"

No answer. Just another scream, only further away now.

You stumbled toward the sound, ignoring the pain shooting through your legs. That's when you saw it, the streak of blood on the carpet, and a torn piece of clothing—Bobby's—laying there.

Your hands shook as you snatched it up. Then, you heard the sound of something moving. Something large, and fast. Kat screamed, and you whipped your head to see her scrambling to her feet.

"Run!" somebody shouted.

You didn't argue. The three of you bolted through the darkness—and that was the last time you saw them.

---

At first, every day felt impossible.

You wandered the endless yellow halls with shaking hands and aching legs, jumping at every distant sound and every shadow that seemed to move. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed endlessly, creating a constant hum that slowly began driving you insane.

Sleep came rarely, and when it did, it was never for long.

You learned to wedge yourself into cramped rooms and hidden corners where you could see every possible entrance. Even then, every creak or distant noise was enough to jolt you awake with your heart hammering against your ribs.

For the first few days, you searched constantly for someone, anyone.

You followed every distant voice and every set of footprints you could find, convincing yourself over and over that he had to be alive. Then you would remember the look on his face as his fingers slipped from yours, or the sound of him screaming as something dragged him into the darkness.

You would remember the blood, and hope would become a little harder to hold onto.

The piece of Bobby's shirt never left your possession. You kept it folded carefully inside your pocket during the day and clutched it in your hands whenever you stopped moving. The fabric had become one of the only reminders that your life before this place had actually existed.

The first time you truly allowed yourself to grieve was after nearly a week.

You had found an empty office hidden behind a maze of corridors and locked yourself inside for the night. The room was small and dusty, but it had a door that closed and that was enough.

You sat on the floor with your knees pulled against your chest. The torn piece of fabric rested in your lap. For a long time, you simply stared at it.

Then the tears came. The kind that left your chest aching and your breathing uneven. You cried for Bobby. For the years spent dancing around feelings neither of you had been brave enough to acknowledge. You cried because there had always been this stubborn part of you that believed there would be more time. More opportunities to tell him. Now all you had left was a torn piece of fabric and a memory of his hand slipping from yours.

After that night, you stopped looking for him—at least that's what you told yourself.

In reality, your eyes still searched every hallway you entered. Your ears still perked up at every distant voice, hoping you'd recognize his own. Some foolish part of you never fully gave up.

Weeks passed, or maybe only days. Time had become meaningless here.

You had started learning the rhythm of the place. Certain hallways appeared safer than others. Certain sounds meant danger. Certain rooms were worth remembering.

-

You were moving through one such hallway when you heard footsteps. Immediate panic surged through you. They were too heavy, too deliberate.

Then suddenly someone grabbed you from behind. A startled cry escaped you as your body was slammed violently into the nearest wall. Pain exploded through your back.

Before you could recover, an arm pressed firmly against your throat, pinning you in place. Pure instinct took over, and you kicked and struggled, trying desperately to free yourself.

Your vision blurred from panic, then finally focused.

The person holding you froze, and you froze too. For a moment, neither of you moved. Because the person staring back at you was Bobby.

His hair was longer now, messier. There were fresh cuts scattered across his face and neck, and dark circles lingered beneath his eyes.

He looked terrible. He looked alive.

The realization hit you so hard it almost hurt.

"Bobby." The name escaped you as little more than a breath.

His eyes widened. The arm against your throat immediately disappeared. You stumbled forward, coughing slightly.

For a second, he simply stared. Then his gaze darted over your face, searching desperately for something. His hand lifted hesitantly, cautiously, like he was afraid you might disappear if he moved too fast. His fingers brushed against your hair, pushing a few tangled strands away from your face.

The touch was so familiar it made your chest ache.

Then suddenly you were moving. The distance between you disappeared in an instant as you practically threw yourself at him. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and you buried your face against his shoulder.

For a brief moment, he froze. Then his arms slowly locked around you, so tight it nearly hurt. A shaky breath escaped him as his chin came to rest on top of your head. For the first time in a long time, you felt safe. At ease.

Then Bobby suddenly stiffened. The change was immediate, and you felt it before you saw it. His arms loosened, then he pulled away slightly.

Confusion creased his brow.

"No."

You looked up.

"What's wrong?"

His expression changed, relief giving way to uncertainty. Doubt. Bobby took a step back, enough to create space between you.

"Hold on."

Your stomach dropped. "Bobby?"

"How do I know it's really you?"

The question hit like a slap, and you stared. His eyes searched your face frantically.

"This place has done this before. I've seen someone who looked exactly like you."

You were beyond confused. Bobby shook his head.

"I thought it was you. I was completely sure it was you." He let out a short, humorless laugh.

"Followed it for half a day."

His jaw tightened. "Then it tried to bite me."

You stared at him, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Then you slowly shook your head.

"No, Bobby, you have to believe me." Your voice almost cracked. You stepped closer. "It's really me."

His gaze flickered. You could see him desperately wanting to believe you.

"I thought... I thought you were dead." you whispered.

Something painful flashed across his face, and he looked away.

"I almost was. I barely got away. Don't even know how I did it, really."

His gaze returned to yours, and he let out a sigh, dragging his hand over his face. "I wish I never went through that fucking wall." he admitted quietly.

You found yourself nodding. "Yeah. Me too."

The two of you fell silent for a moment, listening to the distant hum of fluorescent lights somewhere beyond the hall.

Eventually, you glanced back at him.

"Why did you,then?" you asked.

Bobby frowned slightly. "What?"

"Go through the wall. You were the first one to volunteer. You practically jumped at the chance."

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it disappeared immediately.

"I didn't think..." He paused, searching for the right words. "I didn't think it'd be this."

His gaze drifted down the hallway.

"I thought maybe we'd find another room. Some weird hidden basement. Something Clark could show off and obsess over for the next ten years."

A quiet laugh escaped you. That sounded exactly like Clark.

Bobby shook his head. "If I'd known what was actually waiting for us in here, I would've stayed home."

Then he paused for a moment, and looked back at you.

"Honestly, I only agreed to come because I heard you were coming too."

The statement caught you completely off guard.

"What?"

Bobby shrugged awkwardly. For some reason, he suddenly seemed interested in studying the floor.

"And, Clark was acting like a lunatic. Figured somebody should make sure neither of you got yourselves killed."

Despite everything, a small smile threatened to appear. It vanished the second another thought occurred to you.

"And Kat." You raised an eyebrow. "You came because Kat was coming too, right?"

The moment the words left your mouth, something shifted in his expression. His gaze flickered away. Then he slowly shook his head.

"No."

You stared at him. "No?"

"We broke up the day before."

The hallway suddenly felt much quieter. "What?"

Bobby rubbed the back of his neck."We'd been arguing for weeks." He continued "We broke up the day before Clark showed us the wall, and honestly, I still don't know why she came back to the store after that."

A strange feeling began twisting in your stomach. Weeks. They'd been arguing for weeks. Before you'd handed in your notice. Before you'd spent days convincing yourself that leaving was the only way to stop watching them build a life together.

Something hot and ugly flared inside your chest. For a moment, you couldn't even speak. You just looked at him.

Bobby noticed immediately, and his brow furrowed. "What?"

"Weeks?" The word slipped out before you could stop it.

"Yeah." his confusion only made the feeling worse.

"Weeks." you repeated.

Bobby stared at you, confused "You okay?"

"I quit my job because of you two." you shook your head. "You remember that, right?"

"Yeah, but what does that have to do with—"

"Everything. It has everything to do with it"

The response came out harsher than you'd intended. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Bobby looked completely lost.

"I don't understand."

You stared at the carpet and stayed quiet for a few moments.

"It's just..." you started speaking before you'd fully figured out what you wanted to say. The words felt tangled somewhere in your chest. "I couldn't bring myself to be around you two anymore."

Bobby remained quiet. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly somewhere above you.

"Every day was just a constant reminder."

Bobby's gaze dropped to the floor "Oh."

The response was so small it almost hurt. You weren't sure what you expected, but right now everything seemed better than silence.

"It wasn't just that" you continued, desperate to break the silence "I hated that we stopped talking. I mean, really talking."

Bobby gave a small nod "I wanted to talk to you." He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck "There were a bunch of times I almost came over."

He then shook his head slightly, eyes drifting down the corridor "Usually I'd make it about halfway before realizing I had absolutely no idea what I was supposed to say."

It was your turn to stay silent now.

"And you stopped talking to me first." He continued, a little more quiet now. "Hell, after a while I started wondering if you hated me."

You let out a short, disbelieving laugh "Hate you?" You asked, the idea sounding absurd in you mind.

You shook your head, avoiding his eyes "If I hated you, quitting would've been easy."

The words slipped before you could stop them, and you regretted them immediately. Silence settled once again. You stared stubbornly at a stain on the carpet, suddenly finding it very difficult to look at him. The longer the quiet stretched, the more aware you became of what you'd actually admitted.

Eventually, you forced yourself to glance up.

Bobby was looking at you differently. There was something almost pleased in his expression—the corner of his mouth had lifted into the faintest smile, and his eyes were fixed on yours with an intensity that instantly sent heat rushing into your face.

His gaze kept searching your expression as though he expected to find some sign that you hadn't meant what you'd said. Whatever he was looking for, he clearly wasn't finding it.

The realization seemed to settle over him slowly, and he took a small step closer. His mouth opened slightly, like he'd finally decided what he wanted to say. Whatever it was, he never got the change to say it.

A horrible screech echoed through the hallway. The sound revertebrated through the corridors, bouncing off the stained yellow walls until it seemed to come from everywhere at once. The sound was so unnatural that every hair on your body immediately stood on end. Every muscle in Bobby's body immediately tensed, and he muttered a curse under his breath.

Before you could even open your mouth, Bobby's hand closed around your wrist.

"Run."

"What?"

"Run!"

He didn't wait for an answer. One second he was standing in front of you, and the next he was dragging you down the corridor at a full sprint. You nearly stumbled trying to keep up. The fluorescent lights blurred overhead as the two of you tore through hallway after hallway.

Behind you, something crashed around a corner.

"What the fuck is that ?" you shouted between breaths.

Bobby didn't slow down even for a second "It's the thing that grabbed me." He shouted over his shoulder as the two of you turned yet another corner.

Your lungs burned, and every breath felt sharper than the last. Whatever was chasing you wasn't slowing down. If anything, it sounded closer.

Curiosity took over you, and you risked a glance backward. You immediately regretted your decision, as the creature you saw looked like something straight out of a nightmare.

"Bobby—"

"I know! Keep up!"

He tightened his grip on your hand and pulled you forward. The two of you practically threw yourselves around the next corner—only to slam directly into another person.

All three of you staggered violently, nearly getting knocked off your feet. The stranger let out a startled yell, then familiar eyes widened in recognition.

Kat.

For a split second, relief flooded her face. Then she heard the sounds behind you, and that relief vanished instantly.

"What is—"

"Run!" you shouted.

You grabbed her arm before she could finish the question and practically launched her forward.

To her credit, she didn't argue. The three of you immediately broke into another sprint.

Every turn revealed another endless stretch of yellow hallway, every glance over your shoulder revealed movement somewhere in the darkness behind you. The creature's screams echoed through the corridors, growing louder and more frustrated the longer it chased you.

Your hand remained locked in Bobby's the entire time.

Suddenly, Kat pointed ahead.

"There!"

You followed her gaze and spotted a narrow opening in the wall, barely wide enough for a person to squeeze through. Relief flooded your chest. Without slowing down, Kat threw herself through the gap first. You followed immediately after, twisting sideways to fit through before stumbling into a dark room on the other side. Bobby came through last.

The second he got through, a deafening impact shook the wall, indicating that the creature had reached the gap. A horrible screech echoed through the room as it slammed repeatedly against the concrete on the other side. Dust fell from the ceiling.

When it became clear that the creature couldn't reach you from there, you bent forward, struggling to catch your breath as your pulse thundered in your ears. Beside you, Kat had her hands propped against her knees, while Bobby stood near the gap, listening carefully to the creature's increasingly furious shrieks.

None of you had time to recover, as the room suddenly exploded with movement. Doors burst open around you. Flashlights swept across the darkness. Voices shouted over one another.

You barely had time to register the figures flooding the room before several of them were surrounding the three of you. They were dressed in yellow protective suits from head to toe, their faces hidden behind dark visors. Some carried weapons, others held strange equipment you didn't recognize. Their voices were muffled by masks as they shouted instructions you couldn't understand.

"What the hell—" your sentence never finished.

One of them raised a metal canister, and a thick cloud of vapor erupted into the air.

Immediately, your eyes began to sting. The room tilted as you staggered backward, since the dizziness hit so fast it was terrifying. Around you, the shouting seemed to become distant and distorted, as though you were hearing it from underwater.

Beside you, Kat stumbled into a wall. Bobby immediately moved toward you, his free hand catching your shoulder before you could collapse.

The last thing you clearly remembered was looking up at him. His face was blurry now, distorted by the fog clouding your vision. You could see his mouth moving, could hear him saying something, but the words didn't reach you.

Soon enough, darkness swallowed everything.

---

When you opened your eyes again, the first thing you noticed were the lights.

A dull ache pulsed behind your temples as you slowly became aware of your surroundings. The fluorescent lights overhead were brighter than anything you remembered, forcing you to squint if you wanted to keep your eyes open.

You were sitting in a chair. Not one of those half-sunken chairs scattered throughout the maze. A real chair—metal, cold.

For several seconds, you simply sat there trying to orient yourself. You were sitting in a long, brightly illuminated hallway that resembled a hospital waiting room.

Suddenly, movement caught your attention. A few feet away, Bobby and Kat were standing together. Neither of them had noticed you were awake.

At first, relief flooded your chest at the realization that all three of you were alive and safe.

Then you realized they were arguing. The conversation was hushed enough that you couldn't make out the words, but their expressions told you everything you needed to know. Kat looked angry. Not furious, but hurt. Bobby looked frustrated in return, running a hand through his hair as he spoke.

Whatever they were discussing, it clearly wasn't pleasant.

Before you could dwell on it any longer, Kat glanced in your direction. The argument stopped immediately as she nudged Bobby with her elbow and nodded toward you.

"She's awake." She said, louder now.

Bobby's head snapped around so fast it was almost comical. The moment he saw you sitting upright, something visibly relaxed in his expression. Without hesitation, he crossed the distance between you and dropped into the chair beside yours. For a second, he simply looked at you, as though reassuring himself that you were really okay.

"You alright?" His voice sounded rough, tired.

You considered the question. You remembered the endless nightmare you'd all just survived. The fact that you were apparently sitting in some unknown facility after being chased through nightmarish yellow maze.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. "As alright as I can be."

The corners of Bobby's mouth lifted, just enough to soften some of the tension in his face. It didn't quite reach his eyes, but then again, none of you looked capable of genuine ease anymore. The weeks spent surviving had left their mark on all three of you.

Kat pushed herself away from the wall she'd been leaning against and crossed the room, stopping a few feet from your chair. She folded her arms across her chest, looking considerably better than she had when you'd first collided with her in the hallways.

"Where are we?" you asked, finally taking a better look around the room.

The place didn't resemble anything you'd seen in the maze. The walls were white and clean. The lights didn't buzz, and you could hear poeple moving through the hallways outside. It felt strange seeing a normal room again after so long.

Kat followed your gaze and shrugged. "Wherever those yellow jackets took us. I assume it's some sort of base."

"That's pretty much our best guess" Bobby added, dragging a hand through his hair. "They said they'd wait for you to wake up before asking us any questions."

You frowned. The thought made your stomach twist.

Before anyone could continue, movement in the hallway caught your attention. A man appeared around the corner, walking briskly towards you. He looked out of place compared to the people in yellow suits you saw earlier. While everyone else seemed dressed for hazardous work, he wore a white surgical coat over neat clothes, carrying a clipboard tucked beneath one arm.

The moment he reached the three of you, a bright smile appeared on his face. Something about it immediately put you on edge, as the smile didn't seem to reach his eyes.

"Good," he said as he approached. "You're awake." The man stopped a respectful distance away and adjusted the clipboard beneath his arm "My name is Stewart, and I'd like to have a chat with you, if that's all right with everyone."

The tone was polite, but there was nothing optional about what he said.

Bobby immediately sat up from his chair, shoulders straightening. "We're not going anywhere until you tell us what this place is."

Stewart's smile stood in place.

"And what the hell happened back there," Bobby continued, pointing vaguely toward one of the walls, as though the yellow maze might somehow still be lurking nearby.

"I assure you, sir, that all of your questions will be answered soon. But for that to happen, I need you to follow me so we can talk." Stewart replied smoothly.

Bobby looked entirely unconvinced. Fortunately, Stewart seemed accustomed to dealing with suspicious people. He simply waited, patiently, for Bobby to make up his mind.

A few moments later, Bobby's shoulders dropped slightly in defeat. After a few seconds, you pushed yourself out of the chair. Kat straightened up as well.

Stewart nodded once, then turned and began leading the way down the hallway. The facility was larger than you'd initially realized. The corridors stretched on forever as you passed endless doorways and passages.

The three of you stayed close together. Closer than necessary, perhaps, as your shoulder brushed Bobby's as you walked. Neither of you moved away. A sense of comfort settled in your chest simply from knowing he was there. After weeks spent believing he was dead, you found yourself stealing glances whenever you thought he wouldn't notice.

This time, he noticed. As though sensing your gaze, Bobby turned his head. For a second, your eyes met, and a lopsided smile appeared on his face. The expression was familiar enough to make your chest ache. It was the same smile he'd worn a hundred times back at Clark's. The same one he'd flashed whenever Clark said something ridiculous or whenever the two of you found yourselves stuck moving furniture around the store.

It was meant to reassure you, but you could see what sat underneath.

The exhaustion.

The uncertainty.

The lingering fear.

Bobby looked just as overwhelmed by all of this as you felt.

After a moment, both of you looked away. You looked forward just in time to notice that Stewart had stopped walking. He stood beside a plain metal door, one hand resting on the handle as he glanced back toward your group. Without a word, he pushed the door open.

The room beyond was surprisingly small. A single table sat in the center beneath a harsh overhead light, accompanied by two metal chairs. There were no decorations, no windows, just four plain concrete walls.

A knot formed in your stomach.Stewart stepped aside and gestured toward the doorway.

"If you would."

Bobby, who stood at the front of the group, hesitated briefly before stepping inside. You and Kat immediately moved to follow. Neither of you made it more than a step before Stewart lifted a hand.

The gesture wasn't aggressive. If anything, it was annoyingly polite as it stopped both of you in your tracks. You frowned immediately.

"What—"

"I'm sorry." Stewart's smile returned before you could finish speaking. "But I'll need to take you one at a time."

You stared at him."Why?"

"I need independent declarations from each of you." His tone remained calm "I'm afraid that becomes difficult if all three of you are sitting together influencing each other's recollections."

"We're not influencing anything," Kat said sharply.

Stewart's expression didn't change. "I'm sure you're not intending to."

You glanced toward Bobby, unsure. His jaw had tightened slightly, and although he wasn't arguing, you could tell he didn't like this any more than the rest of you did. Unfortunately, none of you were really in a position to refuse.

Stewart pointed toward a pair of chairs positioned against the hallway wall. "I won't keep him long. In the meantime, I suggest you make yourselves comfortable."

Comfortable. The word almost made you laugh. The heavy metal door closed behind Bobby a moment later, leaving you and Kat alone in the hallway. You lowered yourself into one of the chairs. Kat sat beside you. For a while, neither of you spoke.

Then Kat broke the silence. "It's a miracle we survived."

You glanced toward her and gave a small nod."Yeah."

Neither of you elaborated. Eventually, another thought occurred to you. One that had been sitting in the back of your mind ever since finding her again.

"What happened afterwards? After we got separated?" You asked quietly.

For a moment, Kat didn't answer. Instead, she leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes.

"I just ran as fast as I could." Her hands tightened together in her lap. "At first, I was convinced that something was following me. But eventually I realized I was alone."

Her eyes remained closed. "I mean. completely alone." She hesitated "And then I found Clark."

The words immediately made your stomach sink. Kat finally opened her eyes and looked toward you.

"He wasn't acting like himself. He was....calm. Like, really calm." She shook her head.

The memory clearly unsettled her — you could see it written across her face. Kat swallowed hard."He talked differently, moved differently. And before I knew it..."

She stopped. For a moment, it looked like she wasn't sure whether she wanted to continue.

"He knocked me out. The next thing I remember, I was tied to a chair, and he was talking about...about sacrifices. About survival, and how some people had to die in order for the strongest to survive."

The room suddenly felt colder. You couldn't imagine Clark saying those things. Couldn't imagine the awkward, slightly obsessive man you'd worked with becoming that heartless.

"Everything happened so fast. He tried to stab me." Kat paused as tears threatened to spill from her eyes "I don't even know how I got loose. I got one arm free somehow. Then I punched him as hard as I could and ran."

The tears finally spilled over. "I just ran. And I never saw him again after that." She sobbed, covering her face with her hands.

The silence that followed felt suffocating. You stared at her for several seconds before finally reaching out and placing a hand gently on her shoulder. There wasn't really anything you could say to make things better. Still, you tried.

"Oh my God, Kat." your voice softened. "I'm so, so sorry."

Kat immediately shook her head. A few strands of hair fell across her face. "It doesn't matter now."

The words sounded unconvincing. She stared at the closed interrogation room door, then back towards you.

"I mean, I hope we're far away from that place."

You turned to look at the closed door as well, your gaze lingering there for a moment. Bobby was somewhere behind it, being questioned by people you didn't know in a place you didn't understand, yet for the first time in a very long time, you felt oddly hopeful.

"I think these people—whoever they are—are going to help us," you said quietly. "I mean, they got us out of there, didn't they? We might even get back home soon."

Kat let out a small scoff from beside you. "Sounds too good to be true."

The words were almost mocking, but there wasn't any real malice behind them. She sounded exhausted more than anything else.

Then she sighed. "I hope you're right, though."

The hallway fell quiet again for a few moments. Kat leaned further back into her chair and tilted her head toward the ceiling.

"God, I wish I never listened to Clark." She began " I knew this was a horrible idea from the start, but I just..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "It was stupid of me to come, just like Bobby said. I don't even know why I did it, really. I just..." Her expression tightened slightly. "I guess I wanted to see Bobby."

You looked at her. The bitterness in her voice caught you off guard.

Kat laughed softly, though there was no humor in it. "Do you know what he said to me while you were knocked out?" She asked.

You opened your mouth to answer, but she didn't want for an answer. "He told me the reason he agreed to come. The real reason." She said, voice sounding strangely accusing.

Your stomach twisted immediately. The memory of that conversation in the hallway resurfaced before you could stop it.

'I only agreed because I heard you were coming too.'

You lowered your gaze to the floor. For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Kat was the first to break the silence. "I'm not mad or anything."

You glanced back up. She was staring ahead now, her arms folded across her chest.

"I mean, I always kind of knew there was something between you two." She admitted "I just ...didn't think it mattered."

Heat immediately rushed into your face, and you quickly shook your head. "No, Kat, it's nothing like that."

Kat looked at you for a second before raising an eyebrow. Then she shook her head. "You must be truly blind to think of it that way, then."

You looked away again, your eyes settling on the floor ahead of you. A part of you wondered whether there was any chance she was right. The thought lingered for a moment before you immediately pushed it away.

Because if that was true, if there really had been something there all this time, then why would Bobby have gotten together with Kat in the first place? The question alone seemed enough to disprove the entire idea. Surely Kat was wrong.

You closed your eyes briefly and shook the thought away.

There were more important things happening right now, and the last thing you needed was to loose your head.

[adra19]

Hood Life Chronicles 2 - Beast

Material Handler! Zoro x Black fem! Reader

Synopsis: He's good with handling materials. Always has been. What to do when he can't handle you? Let him figure it out.

Sit back, relax, and you might need a snack?

Tags/cw: 18+, mdni, p in v, pussy eating, heavy dirty talk, etc..

Songs:

Good Enough by AV

Girls Like You by Tone Stilth

Do U? By Do or Die

Exchange by Bryson Tiller (plus the instrumental)

All We Do by Trey Songz (Instrumental)

Zoro was always up to something. Weather it was his job, or out drinking with some of his friends. Working long hours at the warehouse was his norm.

Home was home. A place he kept uptight as best as he could. With a beer in hand, he rubbed the back of his head as he stood there over the dining room table. His eyes stared at the beautiful handwritten note there. Intricate in his eyes.

His mind swirled with thoughts of the woman whom he met at the bar earlier that night. You, in simple work attire that suited your frame. If he had to guess, you had to be a secretary or a company worker. He stared at the ten digits for a moment longer.

You were a delight to talk to. Even better to look at. With an exhaled breath, he took a swig before placing the glass bottle right beside the smaller paper. Pulling out his phone from his back pocket, he unlocked the screen. Adding your name to his contacts, he turns the phone off before picking the bottle back up.

It was late, and he had work in the morning. Placing the half empty beer bottle into his fridge, he switched the lights off and headed to bed, leaving the small paper there in darkness.

On the other side of town, you lay in bed with the thought of the man you met that night. You couldn't quite understand why you gave him your number. Maybe it was out of curiosity? Might have been interested. Who knows. You did think he was handsome. Even with the moss color of his hair to his blunt vague words.

You were actually kinda hoping he'd reach out. However, there was a little bit of doubt on the other side of that. You dismissed the thought before leaning over in bed. Pulling the small cord on your lamp, darkness fills the room.

It took a few days before he reached out. A Saturday night. Rain pouring down outside, giving the city a reflection of itself. A simple "hey".

You responded back almost immediately. Before you knew it, you both ended up texting all night. Not literally, but long enough to see the time pass by. You both talked about nothing and something at the time. What started as uncertain quickly transformed into depth.

Every chance you both got, there was always a text. Then, it led to phone calls. You'd laugh at his humor, and he'd snorted at your feedback. Just hearing each other's voices made the night soothing for the both of you. This went on for weeks. Until the connection developed in person.

Drinks at the bar? He'd pay. Nightly walks afterward? Yep. Visits? You both were working on it. He figured you'd both have to pick the time and day. It came sooner than you thought. Zoro, there, with his form of a gift. Homemade onigiri.

The redness in his cheeks gave him away like always.

"For you. Here." Handing you the plate wrapped in aluminum foil. You smiled.

"I didn't know you were a cook." Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he gave a slight frown. One you could read as his form of a pout.

"I'm not. It's just somethin' I can sometimes do." Laughing, you let him inside. Taking in your space, he noted how comforting it was. It was so.. you. He thought it matched your personality perfectly.

"Nice place." He said as he toed his shoes off by the door.

"Thanks. Make yourself at home." You took the plate into the kitchen. Zoro, following you and not far behind. Placing the plate down, you took the foil off. Seeing six small ones there, you picked one up.

"Do they taste as good as they look?" Your question is a sweet sly remark. Grey eyes narrow before the sound of a deep chuckle leaves him.

"Well?" At this point, his arms were crossed over his chest as he waited. You took a bite, the rice and tuna hitting you at once. Not bad, but not good either. Covering your mouth, you chew.

"Not bad." Raising an eyebrow, he loosened up a bit. His arms falling to his sides as he leaned against the counter.

"Really?" When you nodded as you at the rest, the plate was pushed towards him. He eyed the plate.

"Wanna share?" You had already grabbed another. Four left sitting. Reaching for one, he shared the plate with you. Chatter filled the room. Your laughs and his. You both finished the plate, returning it later after washing it.

As you talked about your interests, you found his attention nice. Too nice at that. He just let you talk and talk and talk. You were starting to wonder if he was becoming bored.

"Why'd ya stop? M'still listenin'." At this point, you two were comfortable. Relaxing on your couch as silence filled the room.

"I've been talking for the past hour."

"And?"

"And you're not bored of it? Like at all?" You asked.

"No. So continue."

This became a regular. Late night talks at your place. Of course you would have them at his, but you preferred for him to come over to you. Something about hearing him say "Wait for me there." Made your heart beat a little faster.

The relationship was developing fast. From nicknames to cuddling to touching. He always looked forward to stopping by or staying the night. Nothing better than having his face buried into your cleavage as he talked about his day. If he was lucky at times, a kiss was always given to him.

It didn't take long before your first time together. Drinking at the bar led to you both making unprotected decisions. Raw, steamy sex in his truck behind the bar. Windows fogged, and the area filled with grunts and soft moans.

And right now, that's where you are about to be at this point. You'd been ignoring him for a few days. The reason? The accident. It caused him to have a scar over his left eye now. Concerned about it, you were. You even helped him heal it up. But you noticed how it complimented his face more whenever you FaceTimed each other.

Material Handler or not, it gave him more appeal to you. Very much appeal. So, of course, you blank out during the FaceTime calls. If anything, you'd probably be all over him if he came by any time soon. Oh, how the lucky stars shined down on the opportunity.

His hands were made for work, and so was his tongue. With you on your back on the bed, a leg lifted in his rough hand, and a pillow beneath your hips. You, trapped in the perfect position for his tongue to explore.

He had figured it out long ago. The extra long stares. The lazy drag of your finger there and with his earrings, whenever he was asleep beside you. The way you’d touch tanned skin whenever you were laying on top of him. There was even that time he secretly caught you touching yourself to the thought of him. A secret he would not dare tell you.

Many orgasms down, and your body couldn't handle the next. His marks, becoming more prominent in the dimly lit light of your bedroom as he adds another one to the collection. What started as a simple conversation led to hunger and...

"Z-Zo— Wait, Mnh…"

The desperation in your voice filled his ears. Like it was the best song he has heard over and over again. From the physical exertion he was putting into your body to the furniture rattling around the room. Each thrust making your legs wobble in that way he knew was spot on. His one good eye enjoying the view below him. Warm puffs of air leaving his part lips, swollen slightly from your kisses and bites. He was too into it. Loving how you moaned so sweetly for him.

His nails digging into the soft flesh of your hip and thigh. His head turning slightly to place a kiss on your ankle as he kept that same pace. Deep. Hard. The groan he let out from his chest vibrated against your skin. A sigh that you were squeezing him deliciously.

“Easy, baby…” A grunt followed afterwards. His large hand rubbing your thigh as he held it against his chest. His other hand moving from your hip down to the swollen bud he abused during tongue foreplay. His thumb rubbing tight circles in contrast to the dick he was giving you.

“Let that pretty pussy take what she needs…” Only when you were close again did you began to run, actually trying to scoot away. He breathed out an amused chuckle before pulling you back. His hands keeping you there at the edge.

“N-No more~, I can’t—, m-mmm, ugnnn…”

“Nah, don’t run. Lemme hit that spot…”

Your trembling body and voice filled the room again. Tears welling up in your beautiful eyes as he fucked you into the mattress. He adjusted the angle. His hips slapping against yours. His thumb going back to rub circles as your stomach caved. Hitting that sponge spot just right.

“There it is…”

That familiar tightness pulled at you. Your eyes rolling back as tears streaked down your face.

“Mmmmh, O.. Oh!… Aghh~”

“Z.. Zorooo~”

“I hear ya, baby… F-F-Fuuuuck… Thaaat’s it, ma..” The pressure kept rising as you tried to hold out back as best as you could. However, your body was losing its control. You legs shaking in his grip, your lips apart, and the incoherent moans and whimpers leaving your mouth. He was not far behind. The way you tightened around him like you were wanting more. Sucking him in so good. The slick cream ring forming at the base as he beat your guts in. You sounded absolutely ruined now.

“Just let go ma… Keep cryin’ for me. Give me that nut, baby… soak this dick..”

The crack in your voice was the braking point. Zoro let out a throaty moan as your pussy spasmed and flooded around him. He groaned deeply, pulling out in time to cum on your stomach and clit.

“S-Shiiit~”

He managed to catch himself before collapsing right on top of you. Your bodies glistening with sweat and the scent of each other as you laid together. He made sure to keep most of his weight off of you. You didn’t mind it. As you both simmered down in the afterglow, he nuzzled his face against your neck. His earrings dangling lightly agaisnt your shoulder.

“You should’ve told me what was up.” He murmured against you. You panted a few more times before responding.

“Would the sex be the same if I did?” You felt the snort he made as he laughed against you. You chuckled as well. A few minutes had passed before he got up to clean you up. You were satiated as you scrolled through your phone. Your arms trembled ever so often. A reminder of what he did. Maybe you liked a bit of miscommunication. the kind where he wouldn’t speak up about it, but to physically fix it himself.

AN: Sorry for the hiatus. I took some time for myself. Happy Pride and Juneteenth. Enjoy 💚

Credits to @omi-resources for the header/dividers.

[lorde-agency]

La Timpa for  @nataalmedia shot by Kristin Lee Moolman and casting by Troy Agency

[3vergrewe]

I’ve been wanting to draw these two for soooo long, especially Starfire🤭

[naneaparker]

[killfarrell]

who wants to eiffel tower with toji and dante???? i'm genuinely gonna write this shit. like oh my days, loooookkkkkkk!

[tayatimiko]

Sokka the artist

[lovergirlcinema]

Young Hoes Run Free

Older!Elijah “Smoke” Moore x young!black!reader

Summary: The adventures of Smoke and his wild and carefree, younger girlfriend. 

Warning(s): SMUT (18+, MDNI), unprotected sex (m/f), dirty talk, use of sex toys, overstimulation, spanking, bondage, mentions of creampie, harassment, misogyny (not Smoke though).

Lovergirlnote: This came out way longer than I expected y’all lol, but honestly I was having so much fun writing it. To all my fellow young hoes, this one is for y’all. Let me know what you think!🥹♥️

From the book of young hoe: Thou shan’t wear a coat if it doesn’t match the fit.

When most people met Smoke, they automatically assumed that they knew what type of woman he would gravitate towards. When they envisioned Smoke’s significant other, they pictured a woman who was modest, quiet, and poised. What they weren’t expecting was you. 

Now, no one would ever step to Smoke and openly say anything unkind about you. Not unless they wanted to be packed up like a can of sardines. Because one thing Smoke didn’t play about was you. 

Smoke meets you at the gas station of all places. He notices you almost immediately. It’s really hard not to notice you in your short dress that clings to your curves like it’s painted on, or the loud clacking from your heels that are definitely a safety hazard. 

Or maybe it’s the warm and sweet vanilla perfume that wafts past his nose and lingers in the aisle as you pick up snacks. Smoke assumes that you must be coming back from a night out based on how you look. Your movements are a bit sluggish, but still graceful as you pick up a bag of Hot Cheetos. 

You seemingly don’t pay attention to any of the patrons inside the gas station, whose eyes follow you like bugs to a porch light. You blow large bubbles with the gum in your mouth before popping it to repeat the cycle. 

Smoke hates the way that his body instantly reacts to feeling your presence behind him. Your scent overwhelms his senses like you’re imprinting yourself into every atom of his being. 

He spares a glance at you once he pays for his things. He finds that you’re already staring at him with a pretty smile and mischievous eyes. You wave your pretty manicured hand at him before stepping up to the counter. Smoke chuckles lowly before waving back to you and heading outside to pump his gas.

You slide the snacks across the counter as you smile flirtatiously at the associate, “Azim, how you doing, baby?”

Azim blushes under your gaze, “I’m doing good, my darling. Was it a good night out?”

“It was amazing, my girls and I danced all night. Free drinks too,” you reply, blowing another bubble. 

Azim starts bagging up your items before peeking back up at you, “I’m glad to hear you had such a good time. Anything else you need, my dear?”

“Let me get $20 on pump five.” 

Azim types the amount in the register before giving you your total, “That’ll be $21.00, my love.” 

You smile at him, “Azim, I know you’re undercharging me.” 

Azim waves you off with a soft chuckle, “You know you’re one of my favorite customers. I have to take care of you. Family discount.” 

You tap your card on the reader before smiling and blowing a kiss to Azim, “You’re the best, Azim. Let me know when your wife is making some more of that baklava, so I can come through.” 

“I’ll have her make you a special batch. Come by on Sunday,” Azim calls out to you. You reply with a quick ‘thank you’ before walking out to your car. You spot Smoke standing at his car, pumping gas, along with a few other guys who are crowded around one car. 

Truthfully, Smoke could’ve been done pumping his gas, but he chose to pump slower in hopes of catching you coming out of the store. 

You open the door to your car to throw the snack bag on the seat before moving to start pumping your gas. It’s not lost on Smoke how cold it is outside, and you, in your tiny dress, don’t even seem to be phased by it. 

In fact, you keep pumping your gas and blowing bubbles like everything is copacetic. 

Unfortunately, Smoke’s not the only one who notices how pretty you look tonight. The guys surrounding the car all wolf-whistle and make noise as they catch you passing by. Smoke can see the predatory look in their eyes as they drink in your appearance. 

His body immediately goes into protector mode. Feeling bold, one of the guys starts to yell out in your direction, “Aye ma! Aye ma! Lemme holla’ at you!”

You roll your eyes and keep pumping your gas. You chose to ignore the ignorant man, who clearly doesn’t have any home training. 

It appears that audacity is on sale as the man yells out to you again, “Aye, girl! I know you hear me talking to you!” 

Still, no response from you. 

“Well, fuck you too then, you stuck up bitch!” 

Smoke doesn’t know whose head snaps over quicker—his or yours. He can see the anger filling your pretty face as you finally stop chewing your gum. 

“Boy, if you don’t get the fuck out of my face with them cheap ass clothes and that fake-ass Cuban link. Wanna-be-rap-ass nigga,” you yell back. Smoke and all of the other men are stunned momentarily by the ruthlessness of your words. 

The wanna be who you just insulted doesn’t take the lashing well. Smoke catches the ugly expression that overtakes the man’s face as he moves around the car to start making his way to you. His homeboys have enough sense to try to stop him, but he roughly shrugs them off. 

Just as he’s about to make his way to you, Smoke stands directly in his path. The older man squares his shoulders and glares down at the younger man. The height difference, combined with Smoke’s quiet disposition, creates a sense of unease in the young man’s demeanor. 

“Nah, don’t get shy now. Whatchu’ was planning on doing, young buck? You thought you were about to put your hands on her?” Smoke questions, stepping up to crowd the boy’s space. 

The man in question opens his mouth to start stuttering. Smoke frowns, “Nah, don’t start stuttering on me now, boy. Tell me whatchu’ was planning. You wanna act bad in front of your boys, so let’s talk man to man. You wanna press her? Nah, you press me now, nigga.”

The man swallows harshly as Smoke can see the tremors racking through his body as he finally starts to recognize Smoke.

He holds his hands up, “S-Smoke, I ain’t meant nothin’ by it, man.”

“You ain’t mean nothing by it? Seems like you had your mind set before I stepped in front of you. You wanted to be a man when you were about to put your hands on her, but you ain’t a man now that I’m in front of you.” Smoke steps forward so the only thing that the young man can feel is his presence. 

He lowers his voice, “You listen to me, and I want you to listen real good because I don’t repeat myself. You ever talk to a woman like that or approach her like that again, ima beat yo’ ass as yo daddy should’ve. If I see you planning on pressin’ another woman, I’ll break every bone in your fuckin’ body and have you sippin’ on yogurt for the rest of your life. Don’t get yourself put on a t-shirt, boy. I’m sure Ms. Coretta ain’t prepared to put you in a casket. We clear?”

The young man is now openly shaking as he sees the darkness in Smoke’s eyes. It’s like he’s looking at something inhuman. He nods his head, “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Smoke,” He responds, fear lacing the edge of his tone.

Smoke nods, “Now, I believe you owe her an apology.”

The boy looks in your direction, “I’m sorry, Miss. It won’t happen again.”

Smoke looks at him again, “Now, get the fuck out of here.” The young man scurries away with his homeboys in tow. Anyone in town knows that the Smokestack twins are the last men that you want to have beef with. 

Smoke turns to you before walking over. You blow a bubble before popping it, “Thank you, you didn’t have to do that.”

Smoke smirks, “Yes, I did. What were you planning on doing if I hadn’t stepped in or been around?” 

You shrug, “I was planning on getting him with this bear mace.”

Smoke lifts his eyebrows, “You know that’s illegal.”

You blow another bubble. Pop! “So is harassment, but these niggas act like the First Amendment entitles them to a response from me.” Smoke chuckles in response. 

You look at him, “So it’s Smoke, I reckon?”

He nods, “S’just a nickname. My real name is Elijah.” You hum while still chewing on your gum. You’d vaguely heard of the Smokestack twins. Anybody this side of the Delta had heard about the two men, but you rarely paid attention when people would go into detail about them. 

You only cared for gossip when it was something that intrigued you. Two men who put fear in the hearts of men in the South didn’t intrigue you. Yet, with Smoke standing in front of you, smelling like a grown man, you were now thoroughly intrigued. It didn’t help the fact that he was fine in a way that gave 90s. 

Smoke catches your hand on the gas pump, “Let me finish pumping your gas for you. It’s freezing out here.” 

You step to the side and let Smoke take over. Who were you to deny the services of a man being courteous to you? Smoke takes a moment to look at you up close. 

You smile before leaning on your car, “You wanted to pump my gas so you could stare at me?”

“M’just wondering where your jacket is,” Smoke comments. 

“At home, it didn’t go with my outfit,” you respond as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“So catching pneumonia in the ass is worth the fit?”

“Yep, you haven’t ever heard the saying ‘fashion is sacrifice’?”

Smoke chuckles, “Can’t say I have. Now, would you pretty please go sit in the car while I finish pumping your gas?” 

You roll your eyes before smacking your glossed lips, “Fine, since you’re so worried that I’ll turn into a popsicle.” You open your door before sliding into the seat. From his view, Smoke can see you typing on your phone. He finishes pumping your gas and places the gas pump back on the handle.

He closes the cap as you turn on your car. You roll down the window just as Smoke steps closer to lean down. You flash another pretty smile at him, “Thank you again for your help, Mr. Smoke.”

“Just Smoke for you, sugar. Or Elijah. Whichever you prefer.”

“Hmm..I guess I’ll call you, Elijah, then,” You said, still chewing on your gum. There’s a beat of silence that’s filled with your soft chewing and music from your radio. 

You lean closer to him, “Are you going to ask for my number now?”

“You know I’m too old for you, right?”

You blow another big bubble and pop it, “So? I like my men a little seasoned. Just hand me your phone.” Smoke slides his phone from his pocket and unlocks it. You start typing your number in before calling yourself. You save his contact and slide his phone back into his hand. 

“Do you always give your number away at the gas station?” Smoke questions. 

“I give my fake number out all the time. You should feel lucky that you have my real number,” You respond, flashing another cute smile at him. Smoke admires the way that the light dances across your skin and the faint glitter that he assumes is from some lotion. 

“Consider me honored. Drive safely and let me know when you make it home,” Smoke states, looking you straight in the eye. 

You smack your lips, “You checking for me already, old man?” 

“I’d just feel a lot better knowing that you got home safely.” 

“I’ll text you then, Elijah.” With that, you smile before rolling your window up. You drive out of the parking lot with Smoke watching your car. 

He enters his own car and sets off to go home.

Later in the night, when he makes it home and showers, he’s lying in bed, and he hates to admit that he’s waiting for the text from you. Finally, his phone vibrates in his hand, and he sees your name appear on the screen. 

You

*image attached*

I made it home safely

Smoke eyes the picture for far longer than he’ll ever admit. His gaze scans across your baby blue pajamas and the matching bonnet. A cute smile graces your lips as you snap the picture. 

Elijah

Let me take you out tomorrow for brunch.

You

Straight to the point, I like you. 

I guess I can clear some time in my very busy schedule for you😉

Elijah

I promise it’ll be worth it. 

You

It better be. I’m not afraid to leave you at the table by yourself.

From that moment, you became Smoke’s old lady, and everybody knew not to cross you unless they wanted him on their necks.

From the book of young hoe: Thou shalt take the clothes from the dryer and put it in a pile; you’ll get to it later

The age difference between you and Smoke takes a little bit to get used to on both of your ends, but honestly, it’s not that big of a deal. In fact, you keep Smoke on his toes every day that you’re together. It’s within the second month of your relationship that he learns that you’re a “young ho” as you had so affectionately put it. 

“Why you calling yourself a hoe?” He asked, a frown covering his handsome face.

You roll your eyes, “It’s not like that, Elijah. It’s more of a reclamation of a word for a positive cause.” 

“What I tell you about rolling your eyes?” 

You resisted the urge to do it again. The last time that you’d rolled your eyes at Smoke, he’d turnt you every way but loose in the bedroom. 

He chose not to elaborate on your new self-proclaimed title. He learned very early in your relationship that you were a real stubborn brat when you wanted to be. He liked to play the part of annoyed, but inwardly, he loved how much you tested his patience. 

Smoke was one of those guys who had a real strict program, and that program was applied to you, but he often let you off scot free most of the time. Stack would even fuss at him because of how spoiled Smoke had you. 

The next day, Stack and Smoke are sitting at the kitchen table together while you’re vacuuming in the living room. You cut the vacuum off, and Smoke expects you to walk up to the wall to take the cord out. 

But you don’t. Because young hoes don’t do that. Instead, you grip the cord and rip it out of the socket before dragging the piece over to you. 

Smoke and Stack both watch you. 

“Aye, why didn’t you just go pull it out?” Stack asks.

You smack your lips, “Why would I make all of those unnecessary steps when I can just do it my way?” You wrap the cord up and hook it onto the vacuum before leaving the living room.

Stack turns to Smoke, “You would end up with a young hoe.”

“So you know about it too?” 

“Yeah, it’s this new thing on Twitter and TikTok. Girls talking about stuff that young hoes typically do. Her ripping that cord out of the wall was a prime example.”

Smoke does typically watch you. It’s a habit, really, but now, he watches you closer for your young hoe habits. 

He comes over to your house on a Sunday and finds that you’re finishing up your laundry. You grab the warm clothes from the dryer in one big swoop and deposit them on the chair in the corner of your room. Smoke watches as you walk away without folding the clothes. 

“Baby, you just gone leave them right there?” He questions, looking between you and the pile. 

“Yes, Papa Bear, I’ll fold them later,” you respond. He wants to give you the benefit of the doubt and trust that you’ll fold them, but he has to keep an eye on you. 

Turns out, he should’ve let the doubt win.

When he comes back over the following day, the clothes are still sitting in the chair. Wordlessly, he goes over to the pile to start folding the clothes into neat sections for you. He even goes the extra mile to place them in their appropriate places. 

You give him a surprised look when you come into the room, “Aww, Papa Bear, you didn’t have to do that.” You press a big kiss against his lips, your lip gloss staining his lips, but quite frankly, he loves the sensation. 

“You’re welcome, baby.”

Smoke is able to catch more of your young hoe antics when it comes to clothing. You volunteer to put his clothes in the washer because you love taking care of your old man. 

To his honest defense, Smoke believed that you could handle the task, and truthfully, you could, but just in your own way. He stands up from the couch to go grab a water from the fridge. Once inside the kitchen, he catches sight of you in the laundry room with his dirty basket of clothes.

Now, Smoke is a man of habit. There’s a precise way that he likes to have things done. Which is why he’s honestly gobsmacked when he watches you load the clothes into the washer without separating any of them by color.

To top it off, you grab his expensive laundry detergent and pour way more than what’s required into the washing machine. You turn the machine on, step back with your hands on your hips, and have the nerve to look proud. 

You turn and catch sight of him staring at you in the kitchen. He fixes his mouth to comment, but chooses not to when he sees the bright smile on your face. 

You point at the washer, “Look, I got you all fixed up.” 

Smoke can’t find it in his heart to take this moment from you, so he just smiles in response before walking over to press a long kiss against your lips. 

“Thank you, baby.” 

Now, Smoke is old, but he didn’t think he was that old. But by the way that you’re looking at him and the ironing board, the nigga starts to feel like Morgan Freeman. 

“You don’t know what an ironing board is?” 

“Nigga, I’m not daft, I know what an ironing board is. I’m just trying to figure out why you would need one. Just iron on the bed.”

Smoke cuts his eyes in your direction, “No, the creases won’t hit the same.”

“Anyways. So what do you need this disinfectant spray for?” You ask, holding up the white bottle. 

“Baby, that’s starch.”

You frown and turn the bottle in your direction before reading it. You try to hide the embarrassed look that crosses your face before you hand the bottle back to him. You walk over to the ironing board that is still folded and fumble with it. 

You look genuinely perplexed by the fact that it won’t stand up. Anyone else would be annoyed, but Smoke finds it cute. You look at him with that whiny pout on your face, “Your ironing board is broken. Probably because it’s from the 90s.” 

Smoke chuckles before taking the ironing board from your hand and standing it up correctly. You look at each other in silence before you nod, “I got it loosened up for you. You’re welcome.”

With that, you walk out of the room, and Smoke figures it’s best to just let you have the win. 

Besides, his baby girl gets whatever she wants when she’s with him. 

From the book of young hoe: Thou shalt use Apple Pay for literally every expense. We don’t use physical cards or cash anymore.

Smoke is old school.

He still carries around a wallet of cash and his debit cards. He only sets up Apple Pay on his phone because you insisted that it was more convenient. 

It is, but he won’t admit that to you. For you, you never have to pay for things when you’re with Smoke. In fact, he finds the audacity of you paying for anything outrageous. On the small chance that he isn’t there with you, he makes sure that you have the funds available for your needs. 

When he tries to hand you his card, you genuinely look perplexed, “What’s this for?”

He squints, “For you to buy your stuff. No limit.”

“That’s cute, Papa Bear, but I don’t even carry my own card around. I use Apple Pay for everything,” You said. 

“Just add my card to your Apple Pay, then baby,” Smoke orders, sliding the card in your hands. 

“Okay, thanks, baby,” you said, kissing his lips a few times. In response, Smoke slides your body into his lap and watches as you type the card into your Apple Pay and save it. 

This isn’t the only incident involving money with you and Smoke. You’re about to head out for a night with your girls when he stops you. 

“Come here before you leave, baby,” He demands from the couch. He and Stack are watching the finals while you go out.

“Sup ugly,” You state, slapping Stack on the neck. He frowns and twists around to pop you back when you step out of the way. 

Y’all are about to engage in another childish fight until Smoke glares at you both. Stack smacks his lips, “You better get yo girl before we be outside tussling.” 

“Ima mace you too,” You quip, as you walk to Smoke’s side of the couch. 

“See, I don’t even wanna play with you because I know you’re serious,” Stack states before turning his attention back to the TV. 

Smoke runs his eyes up and down your body in the two-piece set. Your body shines from your rigorous body care routine. He grips your waist, “You look good, babygirl.” 

“Thank you, Papa Bear,” you respond, leaning down to kiss him. From behind him, Stack makes gagging noises while you stick your finger up at him. 

As you pull away from the kiss, Smoke grabs a couple of bills from his wallet and slides them over to you. 

“Uh, I don’t need this,” You said, a faint whine at the end of your tone. 

“Yes, you do. Your little Apple Pay can’t cover everything. What if your phone dies? You need to be prepared just in case. Here. Take a few quarters, you might need to call me from a pay phone,” Smoke explains. 

All of the argument leaves your body because he’s right and you know it. You slide the bills and change in your purse before leaning down to press your lips against his again. This time, however, you slide your tongue inside of Smoke’s mouth while his hand goes to your neck. 

“Man! Y’all gone with all of that,” Stack yells from his end of the couch. 

You and Smoke part with a few additional pecks. A honk from outside lets you know that your friends are here. As you go to leave, you peck Smoke’s lips again, “I love you, Papa Bear. I’ll text you updates throughout the night.” 

You start walking towards the door until Smoke clears his throat, “Grab that coat on the way out, babygirl.”

You huff and throw your head back, “Elijah..it doesn’t go with my outfit!” 

He gives you a hard look, and you stare back. For a solid minute, you both keep the staring contest going as Stack moves his head back and forth between the two of you.

Smoke goes to stand when you hold your hands up, “Chill! Chill! I’m getting it.” You grab the jacket and hold it up as if to say, “See.” 

In return, Smoke smiles at you, “Good girl. I love you too. Make sure that you text me.” 

Stack laughs, “Aha…my brother got you in check.” He turns and feels like he has the last word. He doesn’t catch you creeping up behind him until you lean down to whisper, “stupid hoe” in his ear and slap the back of his neck again. You’re already out the door by the time that Stack gets off the couch. 

He frowns and crosses his arms. 

Smoke takes a sip from his drink, “Y’all are some children.”

Later in the night, Smoke periodically gets updates from you about your location and condition. You send him tipsy pictures from the club bathroom. It’s not too long before he gets a notification from your Instagram saying that you’ve posted to your stories. 

Smoke chuckles at the picture, but he’s glad to see that you’re having a good time with your girls. Some people assumed that since you liked to go outside, it would be a turn-off for Smoke, but it was quite the opposite. 

He liked the fact that you were young, carefree, and enjoying your life. He’d never try to nag or change who you were. In fact, being with you taught Smoke that he needed to let loose a lot more and enjoy the moment. 

Hours later, he hears the sound of a car door closing and watches from the porch as you walk back to the house. You pout pathetically upon seeing him, “My feet hurt. Can you carry me, Papa Bear?”

Without hassle, Smoke scoops you up into his arms and carries you into the house. He waves at your friends as he closes the door. Your head lolls to the side as you lie on his shoulder. 

Smoke looks down at you, “You still with me, baby?”

“Mhmm.”

He raises an eyebrow, “So you gonna carry me up these stairs?” 

“Yeah, I got you, baby,” you grumble back. Smoke laughs to himself at your antics. Even in your tipsy state, you still swore up and down that you were the Incredible Hulk. 

Arriving inside the bedroom, Smoke gently sets you down while grabbing a big t-shirt for you. 

He helps you with getting out of the heels and your set. “Lift your arms for me, baby.”

You oblige as he slips his t-shirt over your head. He goes to the bathroom to grab some micellar water to help you remove your makeup. 

You grumble in sleepiness. 

“I know, baby, just a little bit more,” He coos to you gently. Once he’s finished cleaning your face, he tucks you away under the blankets. He slips your bonnet over your hair.

“It’s hot,” you whine from beneath the covers. Smoke walks over to the fan, flicks it on, and turns it in your direction. He’d never heard of someone sleeping with a fan on until he started dating you. 

He slips beneath the covers and pulls your body into his side. You cuddle your body more into his hold, “Thank you, Papa Bear. I love you.” 

“I love you too, babygirl,” Smoke replies, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

As he listens to your steady breath, Smoke rationalizes that there’s nothing better than being here with you.

If Stack were here, he’d clown him real bad, but Smoke doesn’t care. He’d gladly go out and get your name tatted to show how down bad he is for you.

From the book of young hoe: Thou shalt play the music about the guns and drugs, but shalt not participate in said activities

Smoke watches you in amusement as you pretend to shimmy in the living room, as “Off the Leash” by Gucci Mane blasts through the space. When he first met you, he’d assumed that you would like a lot of lover girl music, which you did. 

But more often than not, you were listening to music about drugs and guns, even though you were hands down a law-abiding citizen. The song changes to “All There” by Jeezy, and you start hyping yourself up more. 

You walk over to Smoke and start rapping the lyrics in his face, while grabbing money from his wallet to spread it down your arm. 

“So you’re a dope boy now?” Smoke asks, subtly nodding his head along to the music. 

“I’ve been trappin’ out here, Smoke,” You respond. He raises his eyebrows at the change of name, but continues chuckling as you make gun gestures with your hands. 

“So that means I should go get you a gun of your own now?”

You ball your face up, “No, thank you. You know I don’t like guns. Plus, I’d just be a menace if these niggas tried me.” You prove your point by making gun noises like you’re shooting

You really weren’t a big fan of guns. Even with the gun that Smoke kept in his house, you always made sure that he had it locked away, far from your sight. You didn’t even like the idea of him being near a gun, and he was a whole trained veteran. 

You take your phone out and start typing. You glance back at him, “I have a hair appointment tomorrow, so I may be MIA for a while.” 

He nods, “Okay, I’ll send you the money to cover it.” 

You lean down to press a kiss against his cheeks, “Thanks, Papa Bear.” 

When you mentioned getting your hair done to Smoke, he doesn’t expect you to be gone for that long. He checks your location, which states that you’re still at your braider’s house. 

His phone buzzes with a text from you. 

Babygirl♥️

Be home soon. 

I can’t wait for you to see my braids🙂‍↔️

He lets out a sigh of relief at the message. One thing that was always true, Smoke could be a bit overprotective, but it was only because he knew how the world operated. He knew how cruel people could be, especially to someone like you. 

You were smart and observant, but Smoke just preferred to be around to look out for you. In his mind, you were all bubble gum, sunshine, and sweetness. He’d hate to see someone trying to snuff that light out of you. 

Thirty minutes later, Smoke hears your car pulling into the yard. You get out, casually sipping on your Stanley Cup and walking to the house. 

He opens the door to greet you. You connect your lips to his while gripping his shirt, “Hey, Papa Bear. I hope you weren’t waiting up for me.”

“I was,” Smoke said, closing the door behind you. 

He goes to sit on the couch and crosses his arms, “What took you so long?”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, “It was mostly the braid length. You know I like to get my braids long.” You do a quick turn to show the braids off, and Smoke’s gaze travels down to how long they are. The braids’ length ends just below your butt. 

You turn back to him with a wide smile, “Do you like them?”

“Yeah, babygirl, I love them. You look beautiful as always.” He means it. There’s not one moment when Smoke isn’t thinking about how beautiful you are. 

Later in the night, he oils your scalp at bedtime. In return, you apply a clay mask to his face as he waits for it to dry. 

Quite honestly, Smoke had never been well-versed in skincare. That just wasn’t his thing. Now, he kept himself up and always kept his skin moisturized, but stuff like skincare was more up Stack’s alley. 

Since dating you, Smoke has a whole skincare routine that you and he do every night. He’s always had pretty good skin, but since being with you, you've elevated his skin to a new level. You both stand side-by-side at the sink, washing the masks from your faces. Smoke scoops you up to sit on the counter and grips your backside in his hand as you apply his serums and moisturizer for the night. 

You peek up at him through your lashes, “You so handsome, Papa Bear.” 

You grab his chin in your hand and pull his face down towards yours. Smoke’s lips engulf yours in a passionate kiss as he tongues you down. He slides your body closer to his as he fully steps between your legs. You roll your hips into his as his bulge presses against your wet core. When he steps back slightly, you whine in response while pouting. Smoke chuckles darkly before gripping your thighs to pull you off the counter. He effortlessly carries you from the bathroom to the bedroom and deposits you on the bed. 

He leans down on the bed to cover your body with his. He grabs both of your wrists in his hands and pins you to the top of the bed. He frowns when he moves one of his hands and hears a crinkle. Smoke looks up and grabs the item. A bag of Hot Cheetos crunches in his hands. 

He looks down at you while you give him an innocent grin. It’s only when he looks up that he notices all of the extra items in the bed like candy, your iPad, both of your chargers, and your Stanley. 

He’s about to open his mouth to comment when you stop him, “Before you start with all of that, I need this. These are my essentials. Don’t be trynna reach across me to eat my snacks either.”

He gives you a blank look, “I’m trynna eat you now, but if you want to keep the snacks on the bed…”

You move quickly to put the snacks and other items on the nightstand. 

You open your legs with a soft smile, “Okay, I’m ready.”

The only thing Smoke can do is chuckle, but he still gets on his knees regardless. His back may protest, but he’ll never give up the chance to put his mouth on you.

From the book of young hoe: Thou shalt not take any BS.

It didn’t take Smoke a long time to figure out that you were a bit of a hot head. In your honest defense, you just weren’t the type to hold your tongue, especially when something felt like disrespect. Which is why he often found it amusing when you and Stack would argue because you’d match his brother bar for bar with insults. 

However, it was all love between you and Stack. You were the younger sister he always craved having, so he’s delighted to have you around more often. 

As Smoke’s old lady, as he likes to refer to you as, your invitation to any family functions is automatically secured. You knew your spot was secured when all of Smoke’s aunts and uncles hit him with the famous, “That’s you, nephew?” 

You stood in the kitchen with Ardelia, Smoke, and Stack’s mother as you both conversed. 

“I’m so happy that you could come today, and you look so pretty,” Ardelia said, nodding her head in appreciation.

“Thank you, Mrs. Moore,” You said, grinning widely. 

“Ah, now what I tell you about that. None of that, you can call me mama.” 

You smiled even brighter at her comment. Ardelia had been nothing but welcoming to you since Smoke introduced you for the first time. You were nervous that she wouldn’t be accepting of you, especially with the age gap, but she referred to you as her daughter-in-law all over town. Now, a few of Smoke’s other family members weren’t as accepting of you, but they wouldn’t ever say it aloud. But you were well aware of the whispered comments.

‘He’s bringing that lil’ girl all up in here. She still got milk behind her ears.’

“He outta be ashamed. Bringing her around here when he could be back with Annie.’

‘Look at her outfit. Any shorter and them shorts will be some panties.’

’I heard she just with him for the money. Jill from down the street said she got a pattern of jumping from man to man and using them for money.’

‘Lord, that’s a shame!”

You rolled your eyes and took it on the chin. The last thing you were about to do was start an argument with Smoke’s folks, especially in his mama’s house. You knew how a lot of people viewed you, especially with how you carried yourself. There’d been rumors all over the place that you were a relationship hopper, which was far from the truth. You just weren’t the type to stick around in a relationship, especially if it didn’t serve you. 

Growing up as a little black girl in the South, you recognized that many black girls weren’t taught how to date. Most girls here felt that if they dated someone, they had to tie themselves down to the person forever. It was often frowned upon if you were dating more than one person or exploring your options. 

No, exploring your options was only something that was reserved for men. 

The fact that you weren’t the type to stick around in dead situations or entertain men made you stick out like a sore thumb in the community. They couldn’t stand to see a black woman standing strong in her boundaries. They would never catch you apologizing for that. 

You walk outside and sit next to Smoke, who is surrounded by a few of his uncles and cousins. It’s at that point in the evening when the conversations shift to more controversial topics, and the new school vs old school duke it out. 

You were already rolling your eyes as Marvin, one of Smoke’s cousins, opened his mouth to speak. He was the physical embodiment of red pill alpha male content. 

“I’m just saying, I wouldn’t want my Queen out here degrading herself on these apps by posting seductive pictures and doing OnlyFans. I mean, look at the state of female rap, all they talk about is their pussy and what they can get from men.”

A few of the older traditional men hum in agreement. 

You frown, “Well, isn’t that a bit contradictory, Marvin? Men rap about pussy all the time. There isn’t one rap song that you can give me that doesn’t consist of some line of a man talking about all of the women that he’s slept with or the degrading acts that he makes her perform. To add onto your point, you’re complaining about the women making content, but you fail to realize that there wouldn’t be a market if men weren’t paying for it. Sounds like smart business women capitalizing on a rising market.”

Marvin cuts his eyes at you. You can see the irritation rising in his eyes, “See, I’d expect you to say that. You’re one of those new school women. You don’t have traditional values. A real woman knows her place in the home. She should be preparing the home for her King to come home to. She shouldn’t be out here selling pussy.” He glances over in Smoke’s direction, “Dang, cuz, you really switched things up with this one. At least Annie was taking care of her man.”

Marvin sits back in the chair, clearly pleased with himself. Beside you, Smoke hardens, and everyone can catch that look of murder in his eye. He’s about to address the situation when you place a hand on his chest. 

“It’s okay, baby, I got it. Marvin, I don’t take pseudo-intellectual men like you seriously. You be the same niggas hollering about being an Alpha male and you ain’t even graduated from community college. Last time I looked in the mirror, my breasts and vagina were still there, so I think we got the real woman part covered. You keep trying to take jabs at me about being a low-value woman when, last time I checked, I got two degrees under my name, and I’m well on my way to my third. Let’s not forget the high-paying job, and I own my house. We can go band for band if you want to.” 

You pause and snap your fingers, “I forgot, you don’t have a job, so your bands wouldn’t even match mine. What’s your occupation again? Wait…you’re still building your little YouTube with the ten subscribers, all of whom are your homeboys who can’t keep your dick out of their mouths. You keep talking about pussy, but baby boy, you wake up every day and look at a pussy in the mirror.”

You sit back in your chair with a demure smile. The backyard is silent as everyone turns to look at Marvin. He storms from the chair and walks towards the door. You all listen as his car pulls out of the driveway. 

“I like this one, nephew,” Tony, Smoke’s uncle, comments as he clinks his cup with yours. 

Smoke looks over at you in concern, “Baby, you good?” 

“Yeah, ain’t nobody stressin’ over Marvin. I know my worth, and I know what I bring to the table. I’m not about to let anyone feel like they pressin’ me.”

“Good, but I’ma still beat his ass later on for talking to you like that,” Smoke states, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. 

“Thanks, Papa Bear.” You lean over to press your lips against his. You resist the urge to deepen the kiss because you still have to be respectful in front of his family. 

“Anytime, baby, you know you mean the world to me. Nobody in this world is ever gonna disrespect you while I’m around.”

Before you can comment, Stack leans over to dap you up, “That last line was a bar. Let’s go put that down in the studio.”

From the book of women: Always show respect where respect is due.

Annie Boudreaux. Formely Annie Moore. 

You’d met Annie in passing a few times, and you liked her well enough. You both got along, seeing as you were both important women in Smoke’s life. To others, they wondered if it bothered you that Smoke’s ex-wife still came around to family functions, but truthfully, it didn’t. 

You understood how important Annie was to Smoke and their shared history. It’d be selfish if you asked him to stay away from her. That didn’t mean that Smoke was taking advantage of the situation and disrespecting you. He’d always be open and let you know that he was going to see Annie. You’d always kiss him and bid him on his way. 

Today was the first time that you’ve ever set foot in Annie’s yard.  

You walk slowly towards the side of the house where baby Anais Moore’s headstone sits. You note the fresh flowers sitting at the headstone, no doubt from Smoke’s earlier visit in the week. You set down your own bouquet before willing away the tears that follow. 

Smoke talks about his and Annie’s little girl from time to time, but only when the moon shines low in the room, and you can’t see his tears falling. He’d laid his head on your chest and whispered all about his daughter, while you remained silent and rubbed at his head. 

“She was so beautiful and tiny. I was scared of holding her the first time,” He laments. 

Your heart clenches painfully in your chest. You wish that you could take away all of the pain, but you know that nothing ever quite soothes the ache of losing a child. 

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here today,” Annie comments from her place on the steps. You catch her eyes as they clock the flowers that you placed at the baby’s grave.

“I wanted to come visit you, and I needed to ask for your help with something.”

Annie gives you a long look before ushering you inside the house. She pours you a glass of tea as you sit across from each other on the couch. 

“So what brings you by?” Annie questions. 

“Can you teach me how to make that gumbo dish that Elijah likes. He mentioned that it’s one of his favorite meals, and I wanted to do something nice for him,” You said, nerves coloring your voice. 

Your wide eyes meet Annie’s, and you’re honestly scared that she’ll tell you no. Instead, she chuckles, “You came all this way to ask me how to make a pot of gumbo for Elijah? Come on, silly girl. You must really be in love.”

“I am.” 

For another beat, you both look at each other, and Annie runs her eyes across you. Unbeknownst to you, she can see the pink swirls radiating around your body with all of the love that you have for Elijah. 

She gestures for you to follow her to the kitchen, where she begins taking out all of the ingredients. She turns to you, “Go pick me some of those bell peppers from the garden.” 

You nod before setting out to the garden, where Annie has an assortment of fruit and vegetables. You navigate towards the bell peppers as you pick out the best ones. Inside the house, you hand the peppers to Annie as she washes them off. 

“I love your garden. I always wanted to grow one,” You said, leaning against the counter. 

“Tell Elijah. He’s good at starting a garden,” Annie responds. She ushers you forward as she grabs the flour and cast-iron skillet. 

“Now the roux is the most essential part of the gumbo. You mess up the roux, you might as well throw the whole pot away.” 

Together, you and Annie work hand in hand to craft the gumbo the way that Smoke likes it. Annie lets you take over for the most part, while she gently guides you. Soon, you’re both sitting at the table sharing a bowl of gumbo over rice and laughing like old friends. 

“Next thing I know, Stack is running out of the house. Yellin’ about some voodoo,” Annie states, to which you laugh loudly. 

Your laugh calms after a few minutes when you catch Annie staring at you. 

“Thank you,” She states. 

She doesn’t have to explain what she’s thanking you for. You already know. You slide a hand across the table as you tangle your fingers together. 

“I really appreciate you, Annie.”

“Likewise.”

She doesn’t mention that she can read your palms with your hands touching like this. She chuckles internally. She hopes that you’re ready for some twins in the future.

When Smoke gets home later in the day, he’s surprised at the familiar scent that wafts across his nose. For a minute, he wonders if Annie is inside the house with you. He walks inside the kitchen and takes note of you standing in front of the stove, stirring away at a familiar pot. 

You and Smoke are so in tune with each other that you sense him as soon as he enters the house. You turn around, “Hey, Papa Bear, take a seat.” 

Smoke sets his work bag down and takes a seat at the table. You fix his bowl of gumbo just the way that Annie mentioned he likes, along with a piece of cornbread on the side and a glass of tea. He takes a second to look between you and the bowl of gumbo. He notes the similarities in the gumbo, “You makin’ gumbo now, babygirl?”

“Mhmm..I had a little help from Annie today. I wanted to get it just the way that you like it,” You said, moving to fix your own bowl. 

“You visited Annie today?” 

“Yeah, you mentioned that her gumbo was always your favorite, so I went by to ask her how to make it for you.” You shrug at the end of your sentence like it’s no big deal, but to Smoke, it means the world. 

Before you can take a bite of your gumbo, he grabs your hand in his. 

“Thank you. You know I love you, right?” He said, eyes glistening under the light. It means a lot that you went out of your way to ask Annie how to make his favorite meal. 

“I love you, too, Elijah,” You respond before connecting your lips to his. 

As you both eat, Smoke eyes your empty ring finger and figures that he may need to change that pretty soon.

After the meal, Smoke offers to wash dishes, but you shoo him away.

“Just sit down, you’ve been working hard all day. It’s just a few dishes,” You said, turning the water on. 

Smoke expects you to plug the sink and let it fill up with soap and water, but you do the exact opposite. You keep the water running as you wash each dish one by one under the hot water. 

“Baby, you could’ve just filled the sink up,” Smoke comments. 

“Ew, I don’t want all of that food touching my hands,” You shoot back. 

Smoke decides to drop it and continues watching you wash the dishes. He already knows that he should expect the water bill to be higher this month. From the looks of the empty paper towel roll, he might have to just invest in the big pack from Costco.

From the book of young hoe: Always listen to Papa Bear.

It’s one of those nights when you and your girls are going out again. Smoke opts to stay in, but he’s already made sure that your purse is packed with all of the essentials. He knows how forgetful you can be. 

The sound of your heels clicking brings his attention to you as you walk into the bedroom. He hadn’t paid much attention to your outfit. You always did your makeup first before putting on your outfit, and then you’d give him a little show before leaving. 

Now, Smoke’s gotten used to some of your more risque clothing choices. Shoot, when he first met you, you were wearing a dress that had him drooling. He isn’t one of those guys who likes to police his woman on what she’s wearing, but he is very possessive of you. Smoke knows that you’re a baddie, so why would he stop you from being that?

However, he has to draw a line with this outfit, if you can even call it that. 

Smoke coughs past the smoke and snuffs out the joint that you rolled for him. “What you got on?”

You smile at him through the mirror, “It’s cute, right? I found it the other day!”

You had taken the definition of mini skirt to a whole other level. You’re well endowed in your backside, which hangs out of the skirt. You bend forward to check your makeup, and Smoke almost falls out. 

He frowns at you, “Go change. You ain’t leavin’ the house with that on.”

Naturally, the pout crosses your lips, “But why?” 

“Baby, I ain’t finna have these niggas out here eyeing my woman, and I’m not around.”

You huff in annoyance, “Elijah, it’s not that deep. It’s not even that short.”

He eyes the skirt again with a glare on his face. If he could set the skirt on fire, he would. 

“It’s not up for discussion. Go change into something else.”

“No.”

Smoke’s head whips around so fast that you’re surprised that his neck doesn’t break. That dark look crosses his face, “Babygirl, you sure you wanna cross that bridge with me? Take yo’ pretty ass back in there and get changed.” 

The urge to be a brat weighs heavily on you tonight. You square your shoulders and look him dead in the eye, “Nope, I’m wearing this.”

A honk sounds from outside, and you move to grab your purse. Smoke is openly glaring at you and challenging you, “You leave out of this house, I hope you prepared for the consequences later.” 

You shrug, “I’ll be back later on. I love you, Papa Bear.” 

With that, you walk your pretty self out the door, even though your stomach tingles with anxiety. As you step into the car, your homegirls turn to look at you. 

“Girl, Big Daddy Smoke let you out of the house wearing that,” your friend, Leilani, asks. 

You smack your lips, “He was making a big deal of it at first. Telling me that I need to go change. He don’t run me.”

Your friend, Omi, smacks her lips, “Sis, he gone tear you up when you get back. You know them old heads don’t play about all that.”

“It’s fine, y’all. He’ll be okay when I get back.”

“He gone kill her when she gets back. I’m puttin’ a sign on you that says ‘Dead lady walking.’ You might as well gone get your coochie ready,” your friend, Keisha, quips. 

When you all make it to the club, it’s turnt as usual. You and Stack lock eyes as you pass his section.  His eyes flicker down to your skirt before he starts shaking his head. He ushers you over, “You gotta be one of the craziest people that I’ve ever met. Does my brotha’ know you outside like this?”

“Yes, Smoke doesn’t run me. I can wear what I want,” You state, a frown crossing your face. 

Stack laughs. Not one of those low laughs, but the loud and annoying types. 

“Whew, I’m scared for you, girl. But I’ll keep an eye on you. Have fun now before you get home,” Stack said, continuing to laugh. He lets you and your girls come into the section with him and his boys. You know that it’s so he can carefully watch you. 

Whenever you go to get a drink, Stack stops you and goes to the bar himself. You and your friends go to hit the dance floor when Stack holds his hand up. 

“Oh my gosh, Stack, move!” 

Stack smacks his lips, “I’m just looking out for you. Gone dance, but if I see any nigga gettin’ too friendly with you, I’m on him like white on rice.” 

You give him a thumbs-up before following your friends to the middle of the floor. You’re having the time of your life and twerking like you aren’t on borrowed time. Stack keeps his eyes on you at all times like he’s watching a toddler, which he thinks may be true. He takes his phone out to record a video of you to send to Smoke.

Stack

*video attached* 

Don’t stress yourself out. I’m keepin’ an eye on her.

But I know you got something planned when she gets home.

*Smoke liked your message*

Stack takes a sip from his whiskey, “Lord, she in danger.” 

By the end of the night, you’re all danced out and sweaty, but overall, you consider the night a win. Stack offers to take you home and ushers you into the car. Your friends snicker because they know that Smoke is punishing you tonight. The only one oblivious to the fact is you. 

Pulling into the driveway, Stack turns to you with a smirk, “Good luck.” 

The lights are all off in the house except the porch light. Smoke stands under the porch light like a serial killer. You turn to Stack with a grim look, “Maybe, we should back out of the driveway really slowly.” 

“Nope. You wanted to be grown. Now, you gotta face your actions like a big girl,” Stack said. 

“I’m blinking twice for help. I’m telling a trusted adult!”

Stack shrugs, “Too bad I’m not a trusted adult.”

“Trick..” you mutter before opening the door to exit the car. Smoke nods his head at Stack, who reciprocates. 

“I’ll see you in a week,” Stack jokes, before backing out of the driveway. 

Like a scared deer, you walk unevenly to the porch where Smoke is still standing. As you approach, he blows out a big cloud of smoke before throwing the joint down and stubbing it out. You stand in front of him, “Hey…”

Smoke doesn’t say anything, but simply steps to the side to let you inside the house. You swallow loudly as you walk inside the house. The only sounds are the distinct chirps from the crickets outside, along with the subtle clicks of your heels. You and Smoke make your way to the bedroom. You go to grab your pajamas when Smoke stops you, “Didn’t I tell you to change earlier?”

You turn slowly to face him, “Yes, you did.” 

“And I told you that if you left this house, there would be consequences, but you didn’t listen, did you?”

“No….”

“Come here,” Smoke demands, voice soft. He doesn’t have to raise his voice to get his point across. 

You stay rooted in the same spot, partially aroused and partially scared. Smoke chuckles darkly, “You still ain’t learned? You know I don’t like to repeat myself.” You scurry over to stand in front of Smoke as you look up at him with wide eyes.

“Stand right there,” Smoke orders. He walks off to rummage through one of the drawers. Your eyes widen as you see him procure one of his good ties. The heat from his body wafts onto yours as you become hyperaware of him standing behind you. Smoke grabs your hands in his and skillfully wraps the tie around your wrists so that your hands are bound behind your back. He tugs at the knot and hums in satisfaction. 

You try your hand at seeing if you can move and find that you can’t. Smoke moves to stand in front of you as he glowers down at you. He steps closer to press his chest against yours. For a moment, a soft look crosses his face as he cups your face in his hands. He leans down to connect your lips, and you moan at the taste of whiskey that lingers on his tongue. 

Smoke pulls back from the kiss as his eyes run across you. He trails his hands down your form until his cupping your backside in his hands. “You could’ve stayed home and modeled this lil’ skirt for me, but you wanted to go and show off what’s mine.”

You go to open your mouth to protest, but Smoke stops you, “I didn’t say I was done talking. Since you wanted to be a brat, I’ll treat you like one.” You let out a squeak when Smoke grabs you to throw you on the bed. Your body bounces before it settles. 

Gripping the corset in his hands, he cleanly tears it down the middle until the material falls away. You gasp in surprise as the cool air hits your nipples. Flipping you onto your stomach, Smoke hikes your hips up and flips the skirt over. 

He tugs your head back, “You owe me. You can either take my hand or something else.” 

The last time Smoke spanked you, you were left shaking on the bed. It was either his hand or one of those leather belts with his name on it. You were screwed either way.

“Your hand,” You said. 

Smoke nods, “Let’s tally up how much you owe me. 10 for the outfit plus 10 because I told you to take it off and you back-talked. Also, an additional 10 because you still left.” Your wide eyes meet his as you turn to face him, “But daddy, that’s thirty.”

Smoke chuckles, “Glad to see you can count, darlin’.” 

The first hit sends heat flooding through your body, along with feeling your cheek ripple under his hand. The second hit sends a flood of wetness to your panties. By the tenth hit, the tears are already running down your face. How were you supposed to count through twenty more?

Your entire backside is on fire once Smoke delivers the last hit. You’re fully shaking and hiccuping into the sheets, but you can’t deny how turned on you are. By now, you’ve soaked completely through your panties, which Smoke clocks. 

He takes two fingers and runs them up and down the soiled material, “My dirty baby. What am I gonna do with you, baby? You don’t know how to listen now.” 

“M’Sorry, Papa. I’ll listen to you next time.”

“I know you will because I’m gonna make sure that you do.” He flips your body around and grips your panties as he tears them clean from your body. Smoke maneuvers your body to the headboard before going to grab another tie. He loops the tie through the bedpost before securing your hands to it. 

Smoke walks over to the closet and rifles through it for a few seconds. You lift your head to get a good look, but his shoulders block your view. He walks over with a long metal rod in hand, “Do you know what this is?”

You shake your head. He laughs lowly, “It’s a spreader bar. I’m gonna put your legs in these cuffs, and you won’t be able to move.” Sitting at the edge of the bed, he removes your heels one by one before throwing them carelessly to the floor. He places your ankles in the cuffs and secures them. Smoke moves to stand in front of the bed as he grabs the metal in his hands. He can already see your glistening folds as your slick pools beneath you. 

He moves your legs from side to side, “See, this is a special bar, I made it myself. Every time you move babygirl, it’ll spread your legs more.” He jerks the rod, which loudly clicks as your spread apart more. You look at him in surprise. 

He grabs the box that he set on the bed and opens it. Your old man is a sex fiend, apparently, as he lifts various forms of vibrators out of the box. Smoke moves to your open legs and dips his fingers inside of you to collect your slick. 

He brings his wet fingers up to his mouth to suck your juices from his fingers. He takes one of the vibrators in his hand before the tip across through your wet center. You shiver at the sensation of the tip dipping into your entrance. 

“This one is special, babygirl. That special spot that I’m always hitting…well my little friend is made to specifically reach that spot.” He pushes the toy inside of you as you gasp at the fullness of it. 

Smoke coos gently at you as your wet eyes meet his, “There we go, baby.” He clicks a button, which brings the vibrator to life inside you. Smoke pushes the toy in and out of you as your walls cling to it. 

Your eyes widen when he holds up another toy, “My other friend is for that lil’ pearl up there.” He trails his fingers through the curls that cover young mound until he reaches your clit. Your body arches into his touch as he casually rubs small circles around your clit. 

“Please…” you whine into the room. 

“Please what, darlin’? I need you to be more specific,” Smoke said condescendingly. 

Your mind is venturing into that mushy territory where you don’t know what you’re asking the man for. 

He smirks, “You don’t even know what you’re asking me for. That’s alright. Take care of my other friend for me while I get done smoking.” 

He attaches the curved toy to your clit and clicks a button, and it buzzes to life. Your first reaction is to move your body. You wither across the mattress, pleasure consuming every inch of you. You go to move your legs, only for the spreader to click and spread your legs further. 

You gasp. 

Smoke chuckles before moving to sit in the chair in the bedroom. He grabs his early discarded blunt to relight. He inhales the smoke into his lungs as he casually watches you suffer. 

Smoke casually taps the button on his phone, which increases the vibrations on your clit and inside of you. Your back arches from the bed as your release climbs higher. 

Just as you’re reaching that sweet release, Smoke taps the button and turns the vibrators off. A loud whine leaves your mouth, “Please let me cum, Papa.” 

Smoke blows the smoke from his nose, “Since you asked so nicely…”

He eases up the level of the vibrators to the fullest level. A loud screams erupts from your mouth as your walls clasp around the toy and your orgasm consumes your body. 

Smoke leans forward, “That’s one. Give me about four more and we’ll call it even.”

You turn your head to him in disbelief. Before you can protest, he turns the vibrators back on. 

You’re a mess of cum, sweat, and tears. Exactly how Smoke prefers you. 

Your brain is complete mush at this point and you can feel the puddle that had formed beneath you. Somewhere between the second and third orgasm, you’d squirted. 

Smoke turns the vibrators off and throws his phone on the chair. He walks over to you and pulls your ruined face to his. Your expression shows how far gone you are. He lightly taps your face, “You still with me, babygirl?” 

Your tongue lolls around in your mouth, “Mhmm, Papa.” 

“So you can give me one more?” 

“Mhmm.”

He unties your hands from the bed. He runs his hand across your wrists and kisses them gently. Smoke pulls the vibrator from your core and observes the cream that forms around the base of the toy. He flicks his tongue out to slurp some in his mouth. 

Smoke pulls his shirt over his head before dropping his boxers. You eye his hardened dick and as tired as you are, you still need to feel him inside of you. 

Smoke lays down on the bed next to you and pulls your pliant body across his lap. He points his tip at your swollen entrance, “Go slow, baby. Papa will take care of the rest.”

You lower your pussy down onto his dick as you whine into his shoulder. You shudder as you feel his large tip brushing against that spot inside you. 

Smoke grabs your hips in his hand as he gently bounces you up and down on his dick. You turn your head to connect his your lips to his. Smoke slides his tongue into your mouth and gently sucks at your tongue. 

He gives a particular thrust that sends fresh tears to your eyes. “I know, it’s too much baby, but you’re doing so good for me. Cum for me one more time, babygirl.”

You nod weakly. 

Smoke plants his feet on the bed and starts thrusting roughly into your body. Loud, wet noises fill the bedroom as your walls clench around his length. 

“M’coming Papa. Right there..”

Smoke feels his own balls tightening as his release nears. He smashes his lips onto yours as your orgasm hits. He swallows your moans into his mouth as his own orgasm starts.

Smoke holds your hips firmly to his as he fills you up.

You shiver at the feeling of his cum splashing against your womb. 

For a second, you both breathe in tandem as your heart calms down. Smoke runs a soothing hand up your back, “You good, Princess?”

“Mhmm, m’good Papa. I’m sorry.” 

Smoke chuckles, “I forgive you, baby. Let’s get you ready for bed.”

He gently slides from inside of you as you whimper softly. A wave of Smoke’s cum slides from you as it lands on the bed. Scooping you into his arms, Smoke walks into the bathroom and sits you on the toilet. 

You’d long since passed the stage of your relationship where you were shy of going to the bathroom in front of him. As wipe and flush the toilet, you raise your arms for Smoke to pick you up. 

He grabs a towel and applies warm water to it before wiping at your face and between your legs. Back inside the bedroom, Smoke gives you a pair of his boxers before sliding his shirt over your head. He slides a pair of briefs on before he tucks you into bed. 

He grabs a bottle of water before offering it to you. Once you’re done, you flop back on the pillow. Smoke slides in beside you as he pulls your body closer to his. 

“I love you, babygirl.”

“I love you too, Papa Bear.”

He presses a kiss to your neck as he closes his eyes. 

“Elijah?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Can you turn on the fan?”

He chuckles, “Course I can baby.”

End.

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