#look At How The Child Running In Tiny (•ˆ⌣ˆ•)

Rioting is happening in philadelphia for Walter Wallace. He was shot 10+ times by police while his mother stood by and begged them not to shoot. Witnesses say he had a knife but he was not near police nor was he coming near them. There was no attempt to de-escalate the situation before he was murdered.

Police have lost control of the city, and at least 12 police are in the hospital after altercations with protesters.

No one is talking about the situation. It is not trending. There is barely any media coverage for the situation, all information I have received has come straight from people living in Philly.

Raise awareness, look into the situation, speak up. Philly is in the midst of a revolution and we are hearing nothing about it.

Sweet Dreams

Jake Jensen X Reader

Summary: Your sleeping body gives away your waking thoughts.

Warnings: 18+, language, sexual content (somnophilia, thigh riding, unprotected vaginal sex).

Credits: dividers by @firefly-graphics and thanks go to my ever lovely beta reader @christywantspizza ❤️❤️❤️

AN: My first Jake fic so please be gentle!

He was being tortured, that was the only explanation. The only reason he would be tested like this, so cruelly, made to hold back from his desires. Teased. Taunted. Tried.That had to be the explanation. 

There could be no other reason why he was lying still, tired and desperate...hard, while you clung to him. He would like to say while you slept but this was something between sleep and full consciousness. Your eyes were certainly closed, but your body seemed to be awake, moving of its own accord, rolling against Jake's own like the steady lap of the waves on the other side of the canvas tent. 

Jake starred up into the darkness and rubbed a hand over his face, taking his glasses off so he could more effectively hide his face. The blush growing on his cheeks was red hot, making him sweat in the tropical heat. 

What could have changed. Why were you doing this now? This wasn't the first time the two of you had shared the tent, or a bed for that matter. You'd spent countless nights holed up together setting up comms, tapping into whatever security systems you had to breach and monitoring targets. 

When it was cold, Jake had held you against his broad chest, tucked you into the warmth of his arms and you'd shivered together until you both fell into a dreamless, solid sleep. 

In Mexico you'd posed as a couple to get closer to your mark, holding hands and sharing a room, but that was it. At night, you'd stayed to your side of the expansive honeymoon suite bed. 

Tonight you had pitched the tent together, rolled out your sleeping bags while the sun was setting and talked until the stars twinkled above you. There had been no indication that you expected or wanted anything else... Your hips rolled again, body drawn to him and, like a magnet, he followed, pressing his leg up against you and basking in the whimper he received in return. 

You were friends. You had let him finish your food when he was still hungry. He had traded you a shirt when yours got wet with salt water. Just friends, you would never hurt him or trick him. 

So why were you doing this if it wasn't to torture him? Your grip on him tightened, the leg you'd slung over his twitched, and then you started again, harder, faster. Grinding and rocking against his thigh, your small hands clutching his damp t-shirt. Breathy pants and huffs of pleasure and frustration blew across the sensitive skin of his neck, making the hairs on his nape stand on end. 

He should wake you up, you'd be embarrassed in the morning, he should definitely wake you. But he couldn't deny he was enjoying each racked sob you gave him, each little moan and pant like the singing of angels. Each roll of your hips giving permission for his own arousal to grow. 

With his left hand on the small of your back, trapped by the weight of your head and shoulders, Jake lifted his right hand to your side. 

Beneath his large palm you were warm too, still sun-kissed from your long day. At first you squirmed against his touch, too light and tickling, making the whole situation worse. Flattening his hand made you stop, although now he could feel the dip of your hip, the swell of your ass. Experimentally he pressed his hand down to feel the soft curves of your body. 

You responded instantly, your body stilling but holding him ever tighter. 

Your moan took shape around his name, "Jake." 

Shocked, Jake pressed his left hand deeper into the small of your back, forcing you closer, your legs tighter around him. You ground yourself against him, deep and slow, his hands helpless, squeezing and rubbing, unable to let you go. 

"Jake, oh- Jake, Jay, Jayyy -" your moans becoming more desperate, his leg wet from your arousal. 

He couldn't take it anymore. His cock, impossibly hard, throbbed with each delicious movement of your body. 

"I'm here - I'm here - wake up." He poked a finger into your side making you squirm and puff a laugh across his neck.

"Jake." You hummed his name, reedy and thin "stop it - I -ugh" you grunted when he shifted you again, desperate for you to wake up. He pushed you up until you were seated across his lap, your eyes flying open. "Jake! What's happening? Are we under attack?" 

"Are we under attack? Are you fucking kidding me sweetheart?" 

"You woke me up?" 

"You woke me up!" 

You looked down, the tent of his shorts and the damp patch on your own, unmistakable. 

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" You tried to move but his hands kept you still, hips bucking slightly at the movement. 

"Just. Stop. If you're not going to help, stop." 

And you did. But only for a second. 

Your hand reached inside his shorts and pulled his leaking cock free, letting it tap his belly with a wet smack. Quickly you shimmied out of your own shorts before sitting astride his thighs. 

"You want me to help?"

Jake tipped his head back and nodded, "Fuck yes." Helping you to sink down into his lap, you could hardly see, blinking sleep from your eyes and letting your mind wander back into the sleepy daze it was so recently enjoying. 

"Fuck, JJ. So fucking big." You sobbed, trying to fall forwards, held up by his palms 

"Knew you'd be filthy, way you rubbed yourself on me in your sleep." He choked out. 

Jake rolled you both onto your sides, pulling you so close you could feel him breathing, wrapped together. 

"I don't- ungh - I don't rub myself on you when I'm asleep!" 

He tightened his grip on your hips, moving your body and taking ownership of each spark of arousal. 

"You do, you were being needy, whiney, my poor baby." His hands cupped your cheeks until you pouted, kisses dancing over you. "But I love it." He gave a harsh thrust, the coil of desire tightening in you.

In the gloom of the tent, and without his glasses, Jake struggled to see you properly, pressing his forehead to yours so he could feel each pinch of your eyebrows, the scrunch of your nose and the soft puff of breath you exhaled as you got closer and closer to release. His beard tickled and scratched the soft skin of your neck following his kisses. 

"I was not." You tried to protest, but Jake tipped his hips, changing the angle and catching the soft spot inside of you that made stars explode in your vision at the same time as pressing down on your swollen clit. 

"Sure, baby, sure." He teased again, face so close you were breathing as one, panting and keening into the sticky air. Each thrust forcing another high pitched whine to escape you. You tipped your head up, catching Jake's lips with your own for the first time and licking into his mouth. He held you close, a hand on the nape of your neck and noses nudging together until you could hardly breathe, dizzy with the sweetness of his kisses. 

Too soon, you felt your release building, each thrust of Jake's hips brushed firm and rhythmic over your clit, pleasure danced up your spine making your toes curl and your fingers tighten in the short blonde hair at the back of his head.

"Jay-" 

His hand clamped around your mouth to muzzle your cry of his name before moving to your lower back. He held you close while you rode out your orgasm, letting you roll your hips over him as you had in your sleep, chasing the aftershocks until you were sated and limp in his arms. 

Like a rag doll he moved you again, holding you close while he gave one, two, three final thrusts, spilling inside of you. 

"Shit." He pulled back, hands still all over you, burning warm but surprisingly soft. 

"Shit " you echoed, falling back onto your camping mat. 

"I - hah - I guess sorry for waking you up." You laughed. Deep down you knew this should have been awkward but… it was Jake. Your Jake. Somehow it just felt right to lie there with him in the after glow and, after all, wasn't this exactly what you'd been dreaming of? 

"If you want to wake me up again sometime, baby, go ahead." Jake laughed, shaking his head, surprisingly shy. With a sigh, you rolled onto your side, looking at Jake's profile in the moonlight seeping through the tent. All of a sudden,you felt very, very tired again. 

Using the last of your energy, you curled yourself into his side, Jake stretched an arm around your shoulders, tucking your head into his chest and you let your eyes fall closed again, content. 

I’m weeping for this Andy too 🥵

Hi Siri! First off, I absolutely love all of your works! You’re such a fantastic writer! So for your extravaganza, could I ask for a continuation of the Andy fic you did a while ago with the “honey we’re past the bargaining stage, it’s time to pay up” prompt? Feel free to ignore if that’s not something you’d like to do, I understand!❤️

Made Good

Pairing: Andy Barber x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,657

Warnings: Explicit sexual content. Explicit language. Dub con hinging on non con (at first). Blackmail/coercion. Repaying a debt with sex. Vaginal fingering. Squirting. Unprotected sex. Innocence kink. Praise kink. Corruption kink. Fear kink (is that a thing, because it is for this Andy 😳) Mob elements. Soft!dark Andy Barber. AU. 18+ only!

A/N: I have been wanting to write a follow up to this story since I first wrote it, liiike, it was on my Kinktober list (with the innocence kink 😈) but I didn’t get to it, so nonnie, I am sooo excited and grateful that you sent in this ask. It was one of the first ones I received, but I was excited to save it for my celebration finale 🤓 Thank you ❤️

P.S. If you haven’t read the first part of this, I suggest you do, as this will be a direct continuation of that scene. Also shoutout to @river-soul for spitballing with me on this one, ilu! Enjoy! 😘

“Please, I don’t want this,” you whispered shakily, more tears streaking down your cheeks as Andy shifted closer to you, grinning as you retreated.

He stalked you slowly, and you could see it in his eyes, how much fun he was having, the way he reveled in your fear, something even darker igniting in his gaze at the sound of your frightened whimper as you hit the pool table behind you. You stumbled against it, and once Andy closed the distance between you, looming close, you were trapped.

His hands were warm and heavy as they slid along your thighs, his head cocking and lips curling into a devilish smirk as his touch discovered the top of your thigh high stockings, and the bare skin beyond.

“Maybe you’re not such a good girl after all,” he teased, lifting you onto the edge of the pool table with ease as he slotted himself between your legs.

“Please, stop!” you tried to recoil from him, but Andy’s hand slid around you, planting heavy on your lower back and yanking you against him.

He rutted against you so forcefully that you could feel the hard, hot length of him through both your clothes.

The way your breath hitched, your shaking hands scrabbling against his chest to try and shove him away, and the desperate terror in your gaze as you stared up at him–pleadingly–had Andy pausing.

He just watched you for a moment, the air around you crackling with tension and anticipation–with wicked intent, too–and then he was humming, his head dipping close as his free hand lifted, a solitary finger curling beneath your chin and tilting your face up so you couldn’t look away from him.

“Then again, only a good girl would look so fucking terrified of my cock.”

Andy grinned as his men laughed, and you felt another wave of humiliation and shame wash over you, at being their form of entertainment - at all of their eyes on you, watching you, reveling in your inescapable ruin.

Hand dropping to your thigh, Andy tugged you flush against him, rocking against the warm heat between your legs, purring at how soft and pretty and scared you were, just for him.

“Promise I’ll make it good for you, sweetheart,” he murmured against your ear, dragging his cheek against yours until you were gasping at the burn of his beard along your skin, your fingers clawing at the crisp, white shirt beneath his blazer. “Bet I’ll have you begging for me and my cock before tonight's through.”

You could hear the men around you shift, the rustle of clothing, even a quiet, carnal groan, and you couldn’t help but bury your face against Andy’s chest, desperate to hide from the wicked, watchful eyes all around you.

“Please don’t let them watch,” you whispered, swallowing against a desperate, frightened sob as you gripped Andy’s shirt tighter and peeked up at him with pleading eyes. “Please.”

Andy’s plump, pink lips quirked at your request. “Fuck, you really are a shy, sweet thing, aren’t you?” His hand slid up your back, pulling you against him and he hummed. “Can feel you trembling for me, honey, so fucking scared. God, I’m gonna ruin you.”

This time you couldn’t suppress your sob, pressing your face against Andy’s chest as you wept.

“I can be nice though,” his words were a hot rush against your ear, making you shiver. “I’ll even make you a deal, how’s that?”

Your crying died down as Andy cradled the back of your head, forcing you to look at him. His dark eyes eagerly drank in your shaken state, and despite the gentle caress of his thumbs against your cheeks as he wiped away your tears, you still flinched, making him chuckle.

“How about this: you be a good girl for me, do whatever I want, no fighting or making a big fuss, and I’ll make them all leave.”

A few huffs of frustration and quiet grumbles rippled through the room, reminding you of your audience, and you were nodding before you really even processed Andy’s words.

You knew you couldn’t stop what was about to happen, that you couldn’t fight off Andy because he was so much bigger and stronger than you, but at least you could gain some privacy for your inevitable violation.

Satisfied gaze fixed on you, Andy told the others, “Leave, now. And I’m not to be disturbed, I don’t care if the world is ending.” He rocked against you, groaning at the friction. “I’m gonna fucking enjoy this.”

Andy’s men began to file out of the private VIP room, but you didn’t look away from him, not even after hearing the door click shut, confirming you were all alone with him now, because Andy slowly began to undress.

He took his time loosening his tie and tugging it over his head, dropping it on the pool table beside you. You watched as he shrugged out of his suit blazer, swallowing nervously at just how broad his shoulders were, just how big he was. His cufflinks went next, and he tucked those into his pants pocket before unbuttoning his shirt and taking that off, too. The final thing to go was his white t-shirt, everything neatly set beside you on the pool table.

You couldn’t help but admire him, because you had never seen such an attractive man in person. His chest was a broad, muscled expanse of pale skin littered with tattoos and dark, wiry chest hair that tapered into a trail leading down his firm, flat stomach and into the top of his pants.

You felt your cheeks go hot as your gaze lingered at the front of his pants, spying the tent there, Andy’s arousal pressed right up against you.

His hands reaching for you had you snapping back to reality and recoiling until he tsked at you.

“None of that, honey, we had a deal.” Andy’s eyes flashed, going hard as his jaw clenched. “Unless you want me to bring my men back in to enjoy the show? Or better yet, I could take you out onto the club floor and fuck you there for everyone to see, is that what you want?”

“N-no!” You shook your head, shuddering at the thought.

“Then behave,” Andy purred, gently pushing your denim jacket down your arms before setting it aside with his own clothes.

He took his time working open the little buttons down the front of your dress, his gaze flickering to your face, a smirk twisting his lips as he found your eyes lowered submissively and avoiding his as he parted the flaps of your dress and revealed your trembling body for the first time.

“Dunno why you’re so shy, sweetheart,” Andy said, pushing the dress from your shoulders until you were sitting before him in nothing but your simple cotton panties, matching bra, and thigh highs. “This is a body that was made to be worshipped.”

You covered yourself on instinct, feeling a fresh wave of tears fill your eyes at being here, like this, with a scary stranger who was so eager to take advantage of you, to hurt you and use you.

Andy reached for your wrists, gripping one in each hand and shoving your arms back to your sides as he grunted, “Don’t hide from me.”

“Please don’t do this,” you tried to appeal to him one last time, gasping as Andy’s big hand slid up your chest, between your heaving breasts, until he was gently gripping your throat. “I promise I’ll pay you back, I swear.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he laughed, gaze dropping as his free hand slid up your thigh, the back of his knuckles dragging up the front of your panties. “We’re so far past money at this point.”

You gasped as he suddenly tore your panties away, the violence of it making your skin sting and fresh tears blur your vision. You tried to squirm away from his touch, whining in humiliation as he drew his fingers along the cut of you, teasing circles around your clit until you were sobbing because your cunt–the ultimate betrayer–was weeping for him now, too.

“There you go,” Andy murmured, his grip on your throat tightening as you tried to pull away from him again. “Don’t fucking fight me,” he snarled, yanking your face to his and kissing you hard, groaning at the salt of your tears on his tongue and the way you mewled into his mouth as he shoved two thick fingers into your pussy without any warning.

“Don’t tell me you’re a virgin,” he laughed breathlessly as he pulled away, watching the way your features twisted in pain as he fucked you with his fingers. “Haven’t felt a cunt this tight in a long time.”

“I-I’m not.” You squealed as he twisted his wrist and curled his fingers, rubbing against a spot that had your body instantly electrified as you went rigid against him.

“Yeah, come on, honey, give it to me,” Andy breathed against your hot, tear-streaked cheek. “I know you can.”

He pressed gentle kisses along your face as his fingers pummeled that sensitive place inside you, shoving so deep, the heel of his hand was hammering your clit relentlessly, until your back was bowing and your thighs were shaking. An unfamiliar sensation bloomed at the center of you and you came with a shaky cry, your release flooding from your body in a hot, sinful rush and soaking Andy’s hand and wrist.

“Fuck, look at that,” he groaned, dark stare fixated between your legs, at the wetness trickling along your thighs and his hand, as he slowed the thrust of his fingers before pulling them free.

You were still trying to process how quickly he had made you cum, that you had squirted–something you didn’t even know you could do–when Andy tugged back the hood of your clit and began slapping at your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Oh my god,” you choked, writhing as your hands dropped to the edge of the pool table at either side of you and gripped so hard it hurt as Andy forced another messy orgasm from your traitorous body.

You could hear your release, feel it rushing from your cunt, the sound of it trickling to the floor making humiliation erupt in your chest, and you cried, not bothering to resist as Andy pulled you to his chest and gently pet along your sopping cunt, making soft cooing noises against the crown of your head as you trembled and wept.

“Figured I’d have fun with you, sweetheart, but fuck, didn’t realize I’d hit the responsive jackpot.”

He rubbed circles on your back as you hiccuped quietly, your mind hazy and your body feeling like it wasn’t your own, and despite what he was doing to you–what he planned on doing to you–you found yourself leaning into him, desperate for the stray, unexpected comfort he was showing you.

Because you were so scared, and for some reason the idea of surrendering to Andy, especially in this moment, as he gently rubbed your back and his lips trailed along your forehead, felt better–felt safer–than trying to fight him.

It took a moment for his words to process in your sluggish mind, but when they did, you were whispering your reply, your voice quaking, “I d-didn’t know, I’ve never done that before.”

Andy pulled away, framing your face between his hands, his eyes calculating and something else, almost like he was really looking at you for the first time.

You felt dizzy - from his gaze, from his touch, from the way he’d so effortlessly played your body like he’d known you intimately for years.

Your body, the traitorous vessel that was buzzing like it never had before–simply thrumming and eager for more–as you squirmed before Andy and shyly met his unwavering gaze.

And suddenly he was kissing you, but it was different than before, less taking and more wanting. His lips worked against yours feverishly, a groan rumbling through his chest as you tentatively kissed him back, responding to him of your own accord as your shaking fingers curled into his shoulders and the expertise of his tongue pulled a whimper from you, your mind going pleasantly hazy the longer he drank from your willing mouth.

“Can’t wait any longer,” Andy grunted, hands dropping to his belt, quickly working it open before moving to the front of his pants. “Need to feel you.”

You could only stare down between the two of you, your eyes going big at the sight of Andy’s cock, the size and girth of it much bigger than anything you had ever taken before.

You shied away from him then, a different kind of fear rattling through you as you blurted, “That’s not gonna fit inside me.”

Andy’s laugh was a husky, raspy thing, his hand stroking over his cock nice and slow, eyes sparkling as your gaze drank in the pearl of pre cum that seeped from the tip of him. “I’ll make it fit, don’t you worry.”

Yelping as he grabbed your ass and hefted you against him, dragging his cock along your messy center, you shoved against his chest, a note of hysteria to your voice as you cried, “Andy, wait!”

It was the sound of his name falling from your lips that had Andy going still, had a primal grunt catching in his throat as your frightened eyes found his.

“Please don’t hurt me,” you whispered, a few fresh tears spilling over as you watched him.

You could actually see it, the way Andy’s features softened ever so slightly, as well as the flicker of confusion in his eyes, the slight, fleeting furrow of his brow as some kind of slow realization dawned on him before your eyes.

“Oh, honey, you’re trouble,” he murmured, his free hand sliding along your cheek as he watched you, caressing you with his dark, burning gaze. “Got me all twisted up for you already.” He moved closer, so close his next words puffed against your lips in a hot rush. “Wanna fucking ruin you and protect you.” His head tilted, nose brushing against yours. “Gonna do both.”

He pulled you in for a slow, sinful kiss, making all of your whirling thoughts and anxiety slowly begin to fade. His lips worked against yours until you were going pliant against his chest, your hands hesitantly cupping his face as you returned his kiss, getting lost in the taste of him and addicted to the feel of his lips against yours.

Gasping as you felt his fingers at your clit, rubbing gentle circles, you couldn’t help the desperate mewl that fell from your lips and to Andy’s as you writhed against him, your hips canting into his touch, legs spreading wider, silently seeking more.

“Gonna take care of you,” Andy husked, pulling away and watching you as his touch fell away from your clit and you felt the warm, spongy head of his cock slowly dragging up and down your folds. “Gonna make it so good for you, sweetheart. Is that what you want?”

Your eager nod had him smiling, his free hand sliding around your hip and to the small of your back, holding you in place as he slowly began to push inside of you. You whined at the stretch of him, eyes smarting with more tears as Andy’s thick cock filled you in a way that had your velvety walls straining.

“Wait, please!” you begged, fingernails digging into Andy’s back as you thrashed against him.

“Shhh, you can take it, I know you can,” Andy hummed, his hips retreating ever so slightly before he was spearing into you again, this time deeper than before.

When you whimpered your distress, his lips descended on yours, his mouth masterful as he took you apart in a different way–the distracting kind of way–until some of the tension was easing from your body and giving him more room and depth to work with as he rocked against you.

The feel of Andy finally bottoming out inside of you had you groaning, your sweaty forehead dropping to his shoulder as your body took a moment to adjust to being so full.

“Knew you’d feel good around my cock,” Andy murmured, both hands gripping your ass and holding you in place as he began to rut against you. When his hand skated between your bodies, his thumb lightly circling your clit, you keened, clenching around him so hard he hissed. “Jesus, you really are a responsive thing, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, going still as you tucked your face against his chest to hide, embarrassed as shame roiled hot in your belly.

“Hey.” It was the sound of your name on Andy’s lips for the first time ever that had you peeking up at him. “You feel fucking incredible around my cock, you hear me? And having you react to every little thing has me fucking feral.” His hand slid along your cheek, titling your face back so he could see you better. “I wanted you before, but now? Sweetheart, I fucking need you.”

“God,” you whispered at the intensity of him, his words, his gaze, the pulsing throb of his cock in your tight channel, making you squirm as you felt more of your slick easing the snug fit of Andy inside you. “Please.”

“Keep those pretty eyes on me,” Andy hummed, his hold on your face shifting until he was gripping the back of your neck. “Wanna see every goddamn reaction my cock gets out of you.”

Your lashes fluttered, your tummy somersaulting and then swooping hard as Andy’s hips slowly retreated from you before he was thrusting back into you hard and punching a sharp cry from your chest.

“Mmm, that’s it, honey,” Andy groaned, settling into a slow, hard pace as he fucked you. “Wanna hear every sweet sound you’ve got for me.”

You moaned at the next deep plunge of his cock, your toes curling as you reached for him, hands sliding around Andy’s back and tugging him closer.

“Being so good for me,” Andy panted, shoving into you hard and lingering, grunting as you clenched around him hard. “Letting me fuck this pretty, tight hole of yours.”

His words made your face feel like it was on fire, but god, it had the rest of you alight in a different way–a new way–your belly fluttering and your core pulsing hard as you mewled and quietly begged for more.

And Andy gave it to you, his hands dropping to your hips and pulling you into every eager, deep thrust of his cock, until the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, interspersed by your own cries of ruin, Andy’s throaty grunts and groans, and the embarrassingly loud squelching of your delighted cunt greedily swallowing every hot, hard inch of Andy’s cock over and over again.

“Time for you to really sing for me, sweetheart,” Andy panted, his touch moving between your bodies until his thumb was strumming your clit.

His hips snapped against you harder than before, faster too as he grinded against you on every deep plunge into your tight, wet heat, until he had you sobbing as your orgasm washed over you, making you go taut as you came hard.

It felt like every single muscle in your body locked as you hit that peak of your pleasure, and then release swept through you like a tidal wave, bliss flooding through every inch of you and making you tremble and cry out again with your complete and utter undoing.

“Good girl,” Andy breathed, catching you in his arms as you went limp against him, whimpering as stray aftershocks sparked along your body as his cock continued to fill you up again and again.

You swore you felt him get harder inside of you just before a loud moan rumbled in his chest, shaking through your own and signaling his climax. You pressed against him, eyes closing as you felt his cock pulse and throb inside of you, gasping at the warm, wet rush of Andy’s cum filling you up, his pleasure flooding you and making you moan softly as you fluttered around him.

“Fuck, so good,” he groaned, his hips giving a few more pumps, his last thrust shoving deep enough inside you to make you whimper as he dropped his head to your shoulder, teeth nipping at your skin as he rode out the final wave of his release.

You were both quiet for a beat, catching your breaths, and then Andy was straightening and pulling away slightly to get a good look at you. His lips curled at your ruined state, and how, despite your bra straps falling down your arms and your lips so thoroughly kiss swollen, you still somehow managed to look only sweetly rumpled after being fucked so thoroughly.

“You can consider your debt paid,” he murmured, gently pulling up the straps of your bra and setting them back into place.

Your gaze dropped then, shame lapping at you as your head began to clear and the reality of what you had just done–and so thoroughly enjoyed–clicked in your brain. But when you raised your arms to cover your chest, your vulnerability, Andy quickly caught your wrists and pushed your arms back down.

“I told you not to hide from me.”

You blinked up at him, brows furrowed and lips pursed in confusion. “But, we’re done now–”

“Oh, honey,” Andy laughed, lifting your hand to his face and pressing a soft kiss to your palm. “You and I? We’re just getting started.”

You could only stare at him in stunned disbelief as Andy Barber, the notorious mobster, pressed against you, his hand gently collaring your throat as his eyes glittered with a strangely soft kind of darkness as he whispered, “After all that? Sweetheart, you’re mine. For good.”

—

WHEW. THIS ONE DID NOT GO HOW I THOUGHT IT WOULD. OUR GIRL WAS KIND OF HERE FOR IT AFTER A HOT MINUTE, AND ANDY WAS WAAAAY SOFTER AND MORE HEART EYES THAN I EXPECTED BUT LIIIKE, I DIG IT. HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT AS MUCH AS I DID. PLEASE TAKE A MOMENT TO FEED YOUR FRIENDLY NEIGHBORHOOD HOE 😘

—

I no longer do tag lists, but if you'd like to be notified when I post new writing, follow my side blog @sirisshamelesshoelibrary and turn on notifications to get pinged when I drop some new hoe fuel 😘

Please note that I do not give permission for my work to be translated, reposted, or published anywhere other than my Tumblr. Reblogs are most welcome though! ❤️

Not a US citizen, but here a crazy thought:

Why don't you vote on the person you want to?

Please don’t vote third party or write in Bernie Sanders at the presidential election. All that does is split the vote and ensures another 4 years of Trump. Vote Democrat and get Trump out of office in November

SEBASTIAN STAN

— Monday (2020)

Happy Hanukkah to my Jewish followers. May the next several days bring you light and blessings.

sleepy sex when you're both too tired to keep your eyes open and every stroke feels like heaven mhmmmm

HOLD STILL

written for @punkshort's AU August Challenge

RATING: Explicit (18+) PAIRING: Bodyguard!Dave York x f!Reader WORD COUNT: 3.4k CW: Dave's filthy mouth, pwp, smut (cockwarming, unprotected piv, creampie, sorta soft-dom!dave but really he's just bossy, sorta praise kink, a couple pussy pronouns don’t look at me), and one nonsense tense switch just for the hell of it I guess.

SUMMARY: On your last night together, Dave agrees to compromise.

read on ao3 | almostfoxglove masterlist

You want him, but he won’t fuck you. Not once, not even quickly, not even with just his hands. Dave York—ever stoic, unflinching—insists on doing his job and his job alone. And you, as he so enjoys reiterating, are not his job. Protecting you is. 

For three weeks you’ve smothered the calendar hung on the kitchen wall with another red X each morning, whittling the days until you give your polished testimony and say goodbye to him for good. Now the court date looms heavy on the horizon—it’ll rise tomorrow with the sun. 

In the meantime—these last, dwindling hours—you roam the grand rooms of an apartment rented for your protection, your anonymity, at the very skirt of the city where you’d surely have lost your mind if not for him. Stationed diligently at your side, hand never more than a twitch from the grip of his gun. So many hours spent alone you've memorized his form: how he looks scanning the curtained windows for any whisper of danger. How he's never complained when you choose cheesy reality shows from the TV guide. Teaching you how to play Spades with a deck of cards soft and worn—from his home, maybe, though you never ask—and letting you win the first hand, lips quirked when you call him out on it, then unapologetically wiping the floor with you for the rest of your isolation. 

Yes, you know him, though only in image. Broad and sturdy, shirts each neatly ironed and squarely tucked. The hard line of his jaw and the fullness of his bottom lip. His hair always swept neatly from his face, even when you know he’s recently woken up. Never scruffy, never stubbled. Clean shaven and the smell of nice hotel shampoo.

It’s wrong, how you try to prod him to no avail. No matter your efforts, he says nothing of the way you adorn your body: lacy slips and satin sets at night, hugging silhouettes during the day, hair always done, lipstick never out of place even though you can’t leave the apartment or stand too near the windows. Dave is the only one who sees you, save for the days or hours when he leaves you his clumsy understudy to step down from his post.

He must know you do it for him.

It’s wrong, but you asked once, early on. Tonight? 

And Dave’s mouth pinched into a flat, polite line. Unreadable, his face drained of its emotion. His declination drawled deep and heady, a voice that curled your toes and more than once kept you panting alone in your bed that’s not yours at all, just two doors away from his, fingers needy and swirling. No, honey. Not tonight.

Repeated in your mind until it warped like an overplayed tape.

No, honey.

Honey.

Honey.

Not tonight.

Tonight.

Tonight, he is gone—your last together before the trial—leaving you in the hollow apartment with his proxy, stung. Same dark clothes, same holstered gun, same little piece nestled in his ear, but not half of what you want. You want Dave: a man as solid as he is driven, immutable as he is tempting. Assigned to protect you until you deliver the account that’ll send a monster away.

Perhaps you’ve liked the game—how he watches you, but never gives in—but now it’s lost its shimmer.

Lights dimmed for the evening, all black curtains drawn, the vaulted ceilings of the kitchen feel miles high as you perch on a barstool at the breakfast counter to stare at the calendar taunting you across the quiet room. Beyond the pristine halls you’ve lapped all day like an anxious dog, the city serenades you. Traffic squealing through streets, sirens singing in the distance, the occasional shout of someone walking by outside, eight floors below. 

You are not, at night, permitted to part the curtains, lest someone get a glimpse of your illuminated face, but you long to open one now, see if Dave is out there, returning to your little castle turret one final time. Because it’s possible he won’t come back at all—that his coworker will escort you between lobby and truck, between truck and courthouse, between courthouse and whatever comes next. Maybe home. That you’ll never see Dave again, let alone throw caution to the wind and ask once more, tonight?

And then, just then, as your stomach begins to sink with disappointment, you hear the sudden crack of the front door unlocking and the creak of its surrender. You’ve conjured him, somehow, past the stroke of midnight. Then low, rumbled whispers, the unmistakable tone of Dave’s voice mumbling to his understudy. Your heart speeds as the door closes again and his stand-in retreats into the hall. How dizzying, the sound of locks settling into their rightful places, turned by Dave’s unerring hands. 

When he appears in the dining room behind you, bomber jacket hanging from one arm, he tucks a tiny apology into the twitch of his lips—or maybe it’s meant to be a smile. “It’s late,” he says, as your eyes drink him in. Polished as ever, despite the hour, not a stitch out of place. “Should be in bed.”

You shrug, hoping you might appear indifferent. “Couldn’t sleep,” you say, aware of how the satin of your robe slopes off your shoulder with no intention of righting it.

Does something darken in his face then, or do you imagine it? You can’t be sure, not in this umbra, at this time of night. Jaw ticking, Dave strides cautiously toward the dining table, drapes his jacket over the back of one glossy chair, and sinks into the seat at the head of the sleek table, same as usual. A quiet kind of reign, his claiming this position, always, for every meal. He scratches his cheek, slips the gun from the holster at his belt to rest on the table, and as he leans back you indulge yourself—how can you not—in the slight buck of his hips as he shifts to stretch out his legs. 

“Need your rest,” Dave chides softly. No edge to his tone.

Sighing before you can stop yourself, disappointed all over again as his gaze draws off you to the windows and drapes. On duty, still. On duty, always. Not you. Not tonight. “S’the last night,” you reply, staring at the calendar again. One little red X to go. “You weren’t here.”

Behind you, his deep and measured breath. The shiver of that unflappable restraint, you hope, but you don’t yet dare to look back. He might spook.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

You don’t budge. Don’t move.

“You hear me?” Voice a little harder now, solidifying. When he speaks to you, you always look him in the eye—or you always have before.

Electric, your heart. Revving just a breath faster, just a hair harder, at the sound of him huffing in frustration. Your lips tick up in one corner, hidden, a secret meant only for you. When Dave says your name, your whole body purrs and you at last turn your head enough to let him glimpse your profile, still withholding your gaze.

“Pouting,” he scolds, this time meaning it. “That what this is?”

“Avoiding me,” you counter. “That where you were?”

Dave hmphs, darkness fading and softness returning to his tone. “Course not, honey.”

You look at him now, properly. Barstool spinning as you push off the counter to face him. Under the dusk of dimmed pendant lights over the dining table, Dave glows. In the time you’ve looked away, he’s unbuttoned his shirt one button lower than it’d been when he walked in.

One button lower than you’ve ever seen him wear before.

“Said I’m sorry,” he says again, head tilted. His foot comes out to nudge the leg of the chair beside his, angling it in your direction. “Come here.”

He means for you to sit, maybe play a hand of Spades, but as you slink off the barstool you have no intention of taking the seat. Warmth flushing in your chest, cool, conditioned air greeting your bare legs and collarbones, all the skin not covered by your sleekest sleep set. You swear he drinks the sight of you, for once, as you cross the kitchen toward him. Eyes dark not only from shadows, from the time. Or else you hope, as you come to a stop between Dave’s knees, that the way he’s not yet blinked means what you want it to.

Lips parting, a breath from speaking when you beat him to the punch and ask, “Tonight?” Your chin lowered and eyes searching his. It’s the last night. Might as well show your hand while you still can, before he slinks back into the underbelly of a city where you know he’s lived for years but you’ve never once glimpsed him, and not just because it’s busy.

Because invisible is what he’s paid to be, what he’s good at. Unseen until the fist of him is needed, the gun.

Pink striping his bottom lip, a swipe of his tongue, eyes boring into you. The slightest shake of his head, clean-shaven cheeks sharked in the shadow and golden light. “Honey.” Not a no, honey. Not a not tonight. Just honey, like you’ve imagined.

Emboldened, you caress of your fingertips across his shoulder, tracing the seam of his crisp, pale blue dress shirt. So handsome, always so handsome. A man who takes care of himself, who tidies and cleans without your needing to ask. Spotless, always. Reserved, always. Killing you, always, with every brush of his gaze. 

You draw your fingers towards his shirt collar.

“Can’t,” says Dave, softer still. Breathy, almost. You pet the knife-cut of his pressed collar, the button just below it, and his Adam’s apple bobs slowly in his throat. Again, he shakes his head so slightly it looks more like a twitch. A reflex to say no. Not a desire to. “Can’t fuck you, honey. Wouldn’t be right.”

You bite your lip, brows drawing together, not lifting your hand from the button placket of his shirt. “Just tonight,” you breathe, and bat your eyes a little.

At last Dave’s dark eyes drop from yours, scanning the length of you above him with searing precision. Consideration. You slant your head to one side as his gaze slides back up, hesitating on your silk-draped chest, and you suck a sharper breath before it returns to meet yours. He cuffs your wrist with his hand to halt your teasing as he shakes his head once more, licking his bottom lip again with greater meaning. A glint in his eyes, lust finally flaring. 

Pride swirls in your stomach, honeyed and wanting. Then he tugs you by the hips with such reflexes you hardly register the movement of his hands before you’re on him, straddling him in the chair, your thighs framing his hips. Held. Your robe fanning behind you, over his knees. Heart pounding dangerously close to a cardiac event.

Dave tsks softly, smirking when you whimper, trying to roll your hips over the heat of his crotch. Those careful, deadly hands lock them in a vice as he clicks his tongue. “Not gonna fuck you,” he murmurs, and you lean in to kiss him but he pulls his head away. “Not gonna kiss you either. Not right.”

You don’t care about right. Now you pout for real, forehead wrinkling, staring at his upturned lips. You feel the unmistakable twitch of him growing hard against you and your cunt throbs in reply, needy and slick. You try to wiggle again but Dave pinches your hips in warning. “Look at me,” he repeats, that edge to his voice that curls your toes, and your eyes snap to his.

“Good girl.”

You moan quietly, made liquid by the tender swipe of his thumb over the satin of your sleep shorts. Your eyes fluttering at such a tiny stroke, not even the meeting of skin. 

“You can’t move, okay? Only allowed to sit.” When you don’t answer, too lost to the throb of his cock against your begging core, Dave pinches you again, voice gravelly in a way you’ve not heard before. “You hear me?”

Nodding, you hum. Can’t quite get out the word. 

“Need to hear you, honey. Gonna hold still for me?”

“Mhm,” you whine, fighting your every instinct to grind down against him as you meet his lust-blown eyes. “Yes. Only allowed to sit.”

Dave puffs a hot breath out that sends a wake of goosebumps across your chest. “Good girl,” he coos, and your brows pinch at the praise. “Soaking me already, honey. Can’t sleep like this, can you? Just need to turn your brain off, hm?” The movement of his hips below yours is so slight you might imagine it, that tiny grind as his cock grows. You nod, whine softly, and both his thumbs stroke your hips gently before stilling again.

“Show me, honey.” So quiet. So little air between you, and yet too much.

You scan his face until he offers a small nod. Those brown eyes hooded by dark lashes, devouring you without need for the press of his mouth. It’d be soft, you’re certain. The caress of his lips. Maybe the rest of him is hard and deadly, but those would be tender, careful—they’d take you apart, breath by breath. With the same precision with which he darts between shadows and cleans his gun and beats you at cards and tucks your hair behind your ear when you’re falling asleep on the couch, he’d dissolve you kiss by kiss with a kind of grace.

It’s his lips on which you pin your gaze as you let one hand drift between your legs, dipping easily between silk and skin—your body made jelly so quickly and by so little contact, already wet. You pray you don’t imagine the sharpness of his breath when your knuckles accidentally graze against his slacks as you slip your fingers between dewy folds. Then: your hand rising in the dim light, shining, honeyed. Dave watching them, the corner of his mouth cracking just a little. Tensing into his cheek.

He grunts, good girl, and then he’s lifting you just enough to peel down the zip of his slacks, flick open the button, but when your eyes fall hopeful for a glimpse of him he tsks, hooks one finger beneath your chin to tilt your face up, whispers a soft eyes on me, honey as he pulls himself out where you can’t see.

As his knuckles brush against the wet gusset of your shorts, nudging them to the side. Finding no panties to move.

As the head of his cock—plush, warm, weeping—nudges against the ache of you, the thrum of your longing.

He grins, wicked.

Then pressure, a moan lost to the air you’re hardly conscious of and the stretch of him, the slow press in and the ache of your cunt swallowing his girth inch by inch. You whimper, eyelids shuddering like old film, catching only still frames of Dave’s expression as he lowers you gently, burying himself in your drooling heat until you come to rest at his base, flush and full.

So full. Light-headed, sparkling. Your hips must rock because he squeezes your waist. “Hold still, honey,” he coos. “Remember?”

The terms of his touch sounded alright just a breath ago, but now you can’t imagine how you ever agreed. How you’re supposed to stay still with him throbbing inside you like this, heavy and sweet, exactly what you need. A flicker in his eyes like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, how he’s scrubbing out every thought in your head. Cocky, yes. But earning it.

“Dave,” you sigh, breathy and desperate. Your cunt clenching and squeezing and pushing out slick, probably ruining his slacks but he won’t let you look down, just tilts your head up gently every time it hangs slack. “Please.”

His breathing catches for a beat, then it’s steady again. “I know, I know,” he murmurs, keeping his finger under your chin to keep your eyes on him—but he hardly needs to. You’d swear the whole world drained away the second he slid into you. There’s nothing else past your bodies, past this one dining room chair. Everything else disappears like magic. The trial, the dread, the drone of city noise. The slow leak of your heart knowing this is goodbye—all of it. Gone.

You’d have sworn it impossible to come like this, with no movement at all, but you will. You do. And months from now—safe in the swaddle of your actual apartment that for weeks has stood hollow and dusty, plants withering sadly on their windowsills—you’ll lie in bed longing, missing, remembering. Trying to recreate the swipe of his thick thumb on your clit as you replay this moment in your head. How you whined, wanna take care of you when Dave still wouldn’t let you move, even when you were close, just swiped and swiped his thumb until you were something more than alive, transcending.

How his pupils had set ablaze with your whispered plea. How you’d realized that was the point, for him. The begging and the not giving in.

How he’d growled, “Taking care of you is taking care of me. You don’t think I’m gonna come the second this pussy strangles my cock? ‘Cause I am. S’all I need, honey, just give it to me—”

His voice the thunder to your body’s crackle and lightning.

“Let her take care of me, that’a girl, that’s it, just like that honey, she’s so tight—fuck—so fuckin’ tight around me, just squeezin’ me, gonna come when you do, pretty girl, let me have it.”

How it hit you like a white bolt of heat and light, every cell in you tense and flaming, then melting, boneless on his lap as he murmured sweetly, grunted, tried to lift you off him just in time and you’d finally, finally touched him—lucid in an instant, hands slammed down on the muscle of his shoulders. Mumbling amidst your aftershocks, inside, inside, inside. Eyelids stuttering again, back to picture frames as your cunt seized and begged in tandem.

The snarl of his upper lip.

His knotted jaw.

Tongue sucked against his front teeth, resolve crumbling.

The allowance granted to your hands to stay right there, fisting his shirt collar as his locked your waist in a bruising vice. His hips bucking only once, grinding the head of his cock deeper, deliciously, almost too good to take. 

“Fuck, fuckfuck—yeah, that what she needs, honey? Needs me to fill her up?”

You’ll remember your own reply as you near a second-rate heaven in the nest of your duvet at home, all frantic hands and thrusting digits and eyes slammed shut, repainting him in your head. Golden in that gloomy light, hair straying out of position across his misted forehead for the first time. Yes. Please. Dave. Yes. Inside. Please—and his grunt, dark and sweet as caramel, as burnt brown sugar. That tiny grin dragging at his soft lips, pleased. You’d pleased him, surprised him maybe. 

That can make you sparkle now, to remember.

“Okay, honey. Okay—shit—gonna give it to you, hm? Gonna give you all of it, baby—she’s squeezing me so goddamn tight, fuck, wanna stay here all night—”

Then the granting of a wish, the heat of him spilling into your cunt, the unmistakable slide of slick leaking between your thighs and onto his; you didn’t have to look to know. You could feel it, that wholeness overflowing. You can almost feel it now; three fingers might be a poor attempt at recreation, but you fall off the cliff all the same, his name on your tongue, a cry in the night, all the curtains dark and drawn as you come down breathless and drowsy, your whole body limp and spent as it’d been that night with him—when he’d tucked himself away and petted your hair back from your face, so gentle with you, cooing that you did so good, honey. Such a good girl. Gonna get you into bed now, hm? Need your sleep, honey. Come on. 

Carrying you into your not-real bedroom, tucking you in so tenderly, like he hadn’t just taken you apart at the molecules. And Dave’s lips were just as plush as you’d imagined when they grazed your forehead, his big hand petting your cheek once more, then turning out the lights. That deep timbre whispering from the doorway, goodnight. The door clicking shut. All of it perfect. How you’d known you mattered more than a job for just one moment in time.

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