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randomwordprompts · 3 days ago

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SHE'S DONE IT YET AGAIN

What You Want With Me…?

Summary: Annie takes control one smoldering Mississippi night, and Smoke inevitably learns what it feels like to be completely undone.

Pairing: Annie x Elijah "Smoke" Moore

Warnings: smutty smut, milking, edging, degradation, praise, dom!annie, sub!smoke, use of the n-word

Word count: 2.9k

The ceiling fan clicks impotently. The room feels sweltering, damp, and too intimate. Smoke is on edge, as he always is. Without even moving, Annie dances around him like she owns the air he breathes and the floor he paces. She isn't trying to dominate him necessarily; she's just seeking the truth of him. She's experienced the tingling bite of his submission in flashes and flickers. She’s had but a mere taste the last few times. Tonight, she wants it all.

Annie is casually leaning against the doorway of the small barn house she and Smoke have grown to frequent over the last month or so. She’s wearing a pale blue nightgown that subtly hugs all of her curves. Cocoa brown skin that’s softer than room-temperature butter glistening lightly from the relentless Mississippi summer sun.

She watches Smoke light one of the two cigarettes that she saw Stack roll for him earlier as she contemplates how to get Smoke to give in fully not only to her but also to what his body craves.

She finally speaks, “You gon’ let me touch you the way I know you need, or you gon’ keep frontin’ like you don’t flinch every time I get close?”

Smoke doesn’t look up, but she catches the tiny smirk on his face as he says, “You talk too damn much, Annie.”

Annie straightens up and takes a few steps towards him, slow and calm. “Mmhm. But you ain’t moved since I started. C’mon, Elijah. I ain’t tryna break you. I just wanna see you melt.”

Smoke finally lifts his head and glances up at her, stormy brown eyes sharp. “I don’t melt, woman.”

She grins as she brushes her fingers up his inner thigh. “Yeah, you do, Elijah. You just don’t want me to see it.”

She removes the cigarette from his mouth and puts it out. He turns away from her to exhale the last bits of smoke hanging on his breath.

He holds her by the waist as he looks up into her eyes again, this time with an intense gaze of determination that surprises her. He exhales deeply and nods once as he pushes his body into Annie, giving her permission to take the reins.

She takes her time removing his shirt and trousers. She gently pushes him back until he sits comfortably on the wooden chair. She uses his suspenders to tie both his muscled arms to the chair legs. There’s a brief moment of protest in his eyes, but he pushes it down. He sighs deeply again and relaxes his shoulders and completely surrenders to Annie, the woman he loves. God help him.

After stripping herself bare, she straddles him, but she doesn’t line his hardening cock against her wet heat. Not yet. She kisses his collarbone. She plants a kiss on the corner of his mouth. His jaw clenches and unclenches with each kiss. Then his full lips and his mustache tickle her top lip the way she likes it every time he deepens the kiss.

Annie breaks the kiss and whispers, “Every time we fuck, you fight it. You rush. Like you scared of what happens if you slow down.” His eyes drop, and she cups his face, eyes softening as he gazes back into hers. “I ain’t scared of it. So let me take you there, Elijah.”

He finally admits the truth, “I trust you.”

Her hands slid down his chest. Over his toned stomach. To his cock. She grips it loosely, and his breathing stutters.

Annie lifts off his lap and circles him slowly as she thinks on how to start first.

It smells like sawdust and summer heat in the barn. Moonlight seeps through the slats in the walls, catching the fine sheen of sweat already glistening across Smoke’s chest.

The ties ain’t too tight, but they’re intentional. Just enough tension to remind him that he ain’t goin’ nowhere unless she says so.

Annie stops behind him, her voice low and as warm as molasses as she says, “You ever notice how jumpy you get when you ain’t the one callin’ the shots?”

She drags her fingers up his bare arms, tantalizingly slow. He shivers. He doesn’t answer her. His mind and body are tussling for control and his body is in the lead.

She leans down, mouth against his ear, “You trust me to pull your trigger, Elijah? Hmm?” She places a hot kiss below his ear, a spot that always makes his brain short-circuit. “Or you still convinced all I wanna do is tame you?”

With gritted teeth and tensing thighs, Smoke says, “I told you before, woman, I ain’t nobody’s pet.”

Smoke feels her smirk against his skin and bites back a groan. Annie takes his ear between her teeth, nibbling gently. “And yet here you are, tied up with your own damn clothes. Eager to watch me peel you open like one of my sweet potatoes.”

He grunts, cock twitching twice against his thigh, but he doesn’t say another word.

Annie slides in front of him now, crouching between his knees. She rests her chin against his knee and looks at his raging hardness, then up into his eyes, her gaze soft yet commanding. “I don’t want your obedience, Elijah. I want your surrender. That part of you you only show when you think I’m not payin’ attention.”

His voice is tight, eyes burning with a ferocity so intense only she could handle. “You don’t know what you askin’ for, Annie.”

She nods once and whispers, “Yes, I do.”

She wraps her hand around the base of his cock. It’s warm and heavy. Eager. She doesn’t rush. She doesn’t squeeze or stroke. She just holds him there, firm. “Look at that… already halfway there. You ain’t even fightin’ it no more.”

The wood creaks once under his weight as he shifts in the chair. He hates not having access to his hands but doesn’t comment on it. Annie can already tell from one look. He shifts again, extending one of his legs. Not to pull away from her but to ground himself. She watches his abs tighten and his teeth sink into his bottom lip as he fights back a moan.

His cock has an impressive rigidity…it is harder than it’s ever been. She files that away in her mind for later. He’s heavy, throbbing, and leaking already, which is where the real fun begins.

And he hates how fast it happened.

That is what she loves the most. He talks like he is in charge, but his body has been telling on him since she first touched him.

She spits in her hand and gets a grip on him, stroking loosely just enough to make him twitch. Not enough to give him any kind of relief.

“Aww, what’s the matter, Elijah? Already breathin’ like you close, and I ain’t even really started.”

Smoke glares at her, “Shut the hell up, woman.”

Annie smirks, her voice laced with sweet cruelty, “Ohhh, there he go. Talkin’ tough while I got your dick in my hand.” She leans forward and kisses the swollen tip. “You always this mouthy when you’re tied up and needy?”

He flinches at the kiss, half from sensitivity, half from embarrassment. She licks a slow stripe up the underside of him, and his thighs tighten instinctively.

Smoke grunts, struggling to keep his composure, “You keep runnin’ that mouth, and I swear—”

Annie cuts him off with a snicker, “—You gon’ what? Hmm? Buck against the restraints I put on you?” Her eyes soften just a tad as she sees the raw desire burning in his eyes. “Baby, you talk like you got power in this moment. But you’re already spillin’ in my hand.”

She pumps him slowly. Cruel. Just the kind of pace that makes a man ache instead of climax.

He’s breathing harder now, trying to stay still, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of seeing him unravel.

Annie kisses the inside of his thigh and asks, “You know what I love?” She pumps him a little faster. “Watching you fight it. Watchin’ your jaw clench, your chest rise, your pretty little dick beggin’ for mercy while you pretend you don’t love this shit.”

He hisses through his teeth. He’s close. So close. But he won’t say it. Won’t warn her.

Annie coos, “Go on, Elijah. Cum for me. I know it’s right there. Be a good boy and gimme that first one.”

Smoke groans again, louder this time, breaths coming in shorter, “Fuck you—”

Annie giggles, “You wish. Now hush and cum.”

She twists her wrist just right, leans in, and whispers, “My good fuckin’ boy,” right as his whole body seizes.

Smoke groans, deep, guttural, and involuntary. His thighs jerk, toes curling in his boots as he spills hot and messy across her hand and thigh.

He’s panting. Shaking. Spewing all kinds of filthy curses. That doesn’t stop Annie because she’s already reaching for him again.

Smoke half-drunk off release, body on fire with ecstasy, slurs out, “Annie… wait, wait, I—fuuckk, I need a minute.”

Annie hums while stroking him slowly again, already coaxing him back to full hardness. “No, baby. You needed a minute. That was one.” She leans in slowly to kiss him, pink tongue pushing past his full lips with filthy precision, “Now I wanna see what that mouthy attitude sounds like when you cum for the second time.”

A deep, low whine escapes his throat. He shocks himself, completely unaware he could even make a noise so desperate. She laughs softly, presses her forehead to his, and whispers, “You so fuckin’ pretty when you give up the fight, Elijah. My sweet, stubborn mess.”

He’s still breathing heavily. His thighs are shaking, his wrists tug uselessly at the suspenders holding him in place. But she hasn’t stopped. Won’t stop. One hand still pumps him slick now, easier, crueler. His cock is sensitive, reddening at the tip, twitching like it’s confused between pain and pleasure.

Smoke grunts and gasps, “Annie… f-fuck… I said I need a goddamn second—”

Annie giggles mockingly, “Aww, and I said I ain’t done with you.” She leans in to kiss his nose. “You gave me one. I want more. You said you could handle me, didn’t you? What happened to all that bark, huh?”

He jerks in the chair when she thumbs the crown, swiping the underside with the perfect amount of pressure. His cock is sensitive as hell now. His hips lift like his body’s betraying him.

Annie continues, “Still tryna pretend like you ain’t mine? Even when you moanin’ through clenched teeth and squirmin’ like this?”

Smoke chokes out a moan, “You ain’t… I ain’t…”

Annie says sharply, her voice laced with lust, “Say it.” She pumps him with both hands now, drastically slow and downright mean. “Say who you belong to right now, Elijah.”

He shakes his head, his face scrunching like he’s trying not to cry. She kisses him again even more possessively than the last time and still doesn’t stop stroking.

A broken, shaky moan slips out of his throat. “Shit…Annie, please.”

Annie freezes mid stroke, but only for a few seconds. “Ohhh?” She leans back and tilts her head cockily, “Did you just beg? Elijah Smoke Moore…said please?”

He jerks again, head dropping back against the chair, throat exposed, lips parted in something that’s not a scream but damn sure wants to be.

Annie strokes him even faster now and whispers, “That’s what I wanted. That’s what you been fightin’ this whole time. You know how beautiful you are like this? All messy and needy and mine?”

Smoke lets out a desperate sound, barely coherent as he begs, “A-Annie… I’m close—again, I—fuuuckk, I can’t, it’s too much, I—”

Annie leans in again, mouth dropping by his ear, “Yes, you can. You gon’ give it to me. Gonna let go, baby. You hold so much shit in, you forget how to fall apart.”

She speeds up, her hand steady even as his body jerks and trembles. He can’t even form words. Too blissed out.

Annie moans, drunk on lust and love and pure domination, “Let me ruin you, Elijah. Come on. Be good for me.”

That’s it. That’s the word that undoes him.

He lets out a strained, broken sound. His back arches, thighs trembling uncontrollably as he comes again. It’s messier this time. Louder. He groans her name like a confession, like one of her bayou curses and one of his uncle’s Sunday prayers all at once.

She slows her hand but doesn’t completely stop.

Not yet.

His chest is heaving. Sweat drips down his temple. He’s slumped in the chair, wrecked, blinking slowly like he just woke up from a dream he didn’t want to leave.

Annie climbs into his lap, careful not to overstimulate him again…yet.

She cradles his face and kisses him gently this time. Tender. Safe.

Annie shushes him, “There he is. The real you. The one I’ve been waitin’ on.”

Smoke slowly comes to, unable to look her in the eye just yet, but asks anyway, “You… you gon’ tell Stack?”

Annie chuckles softly as she rests her forehead against his. “What? That I tied your proud ass up and made you say please twice? Hell no. That’s our secret.” Then she whispers, “Unless you act up. Then I might have to remind you who really runnin’ shit ‘round here.”

Smoke's ears and cheeks warm immediately. He shakes his head fondly at her, “You evil.”

Annie kisses him again, smiling brightly. “No, baby. I’m just honest. And tonight? So were you.”

His head lolls back against the chair, body limp, thighs still twitching from the second orgasm. He’s covered in sweat, hair sticking to the back of his neck, lips parted like he’s trying to say something but forgot how words work.

And Annie? Annie’s glowing. THRIVING. Annie is captivated by his sounds, brimming with power, yet her satisfaction remains unfulfilled.

Annie drags her nails down his chest and lines him up, “One more, Elijah. That’s all I want. One more. You got it in you, I know you do.”

Smoke lets out a shaky breath, eyes heavy. “Annie, baby, I—” He groans deeply when he feels her wet heat sliding over him. “Fuck. You tryna kill a nigga or what?”

Annie moans loudly as she sinks down onto him, slow and deep. “No, baby. I’m tryna feel you. Just like this. All of you.”

He gasps when he’s fully buried in her soaked heat, tight walls squeezing the life out of him. The overstimulation hits like a lightning strike, but the warmth of her, the rhythm of her hips? Her warmth and the rhythm of her hips simultaneously soothe and wreck him.

She’s so wet, so soft around him, and still so fucking intentional. She moves in slow rolls, grinding deep instead of bouncing, letting him feel everything.

Annie braces her hands on his broad shoulders, panting softly, “Let it happen. Don’t fight me this time.” She moans loudly as she swirls her hips, “Let it be good, Elijah. For both of us.”

He tries. God, he tries. He whimpers against her lips, too far gone to be ashamed of the desperate noises he makes now because her rhythm is too much and too perfect.

She kisses him like he’s long-lost treasure and only she can locate it without a map.

Her own orgasm builds slowly and low in her belly. It burns. Tightens. She can feel him throbbing inside her, close again even though he swore he couldn’t go another round.

He’s trembling. Arms yanking at the restraints. His breath is stuttering against her mouth. But he won’t look away. His voice barely manages to crack out a warning, “Annie…shit woman. I’m—I’m gonna—”

Annie clenches around him tighter, panting into his mouth, “Me too. Cum with me, baby.”

Their sweat-glistening foreheads press together as they both tip over the edge—his third, her first. Her nails dig into his shoulders as she shudders around him, crying out his name, hips still moving through it. He lets out the softest, most broken sound of the night, almost a sob, and spills inside her, twitching and gasping, completely wrecked and utterly fucked.

She stays on him for a moment, chests pressed together, heartbeats wild and tangled.

He’s limp in the chair. Breathless. Shaky. His arms are still tied, and his wrists are tugging slightly against the suspenders.

Annie whispers softly, brushing sweat off his face, “You did so good for me, Elijah. I got you now. I got you always.”

She reaches behind the chair, slowly unhooking the suspenders from around his wrists. Red marks bloom across his skin. The marks are faint but tender. She lifts each wrist to her lips and kisses the spots gently, reverently.

Annie asks him, “You okay?”

Smoke is too out of it to form words, so he just nods. Barely. His massive arms wrap around her waist like it’s all he can manage. He buries his face in her neck, breathing her in like fresh air after drowning.

She shifts just enough to pull a tattered blanket from the nearby haystack and wraps it around both of them while they sit in the chair, tangled, sweat-slick, and completely undone.

Annie rocks him gently while whispering into his ear, “You can let go with me. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t need to now. He just holds her tighter against his spent body.

And outside the barn, the crickets chirp. The night stretches on, reticent and revered.

ach. To

#sinners fanfic #annie x smoke #SHEESH

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randomwordprompts · 5 days ago

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It's been a while since I've done this but-

Testing a Theory

Summary: After a rough night, Smoke finally gives in physically and emotionally, revealing his submissive, breeding-obsessed desires.

Pairing: Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore x Black!Fem!Reader

Warnings: smutty smut, breeding!kink, sub!smoke, praise kink, slight daddy!kink and use of n word

Word count: 2.1k

Notes: Writer's block has been beating my ass, but I finally fought back!! I hope y’all enjoy the read 🫶🏾

Three times now.

Three times Smoke has come to you with bloodied fists and cracked knuckles, teeth clenched as if to swallow fire.

Three times, he’s taken you with that kind of trembling, unspoken longing that says I shouldn’t be doing this but I need you more than air.

And he has pulled out every time.

Even when his hands shook. Even when he groaned your name, like it was an apology, and a prayer.

He wanted to finish inside you. He just…wouldn’t.

That’s when you start to wonder:

Maybe he’s scared of what it would mean.

Maybe he’s punishing himself.

Maybe he wants to take what you offer, surrender to you but not unless you make him.

You’ve also noticed something else.

Past the gruffer edges and biting teeth, there’s something tender. Something quivers.

When you praise him? He shudders.

When you say good boy in that low, honeyed tone? He grips the bed sheets as if he’s about to confess a war crime.

“Soldier in the streets,” you murmur to yourself, leaning against the window that bobs and fogs from your breath. “But a whole sub in the sheets…”

And tonight?

Tonight, you’re gonna put that theory to the test.

It’s Thursday and this is the night Capone usually has the twins doing unspeakably foul shit that Smoke has refused to talk about.

You hear him before seeing him.

Heavy boots pounding up the steps. A pause outside your door. A soft grunt as he exhales as if just being near you is undoing him.

Then two knocks, slow.

You leave the door unlocked. Just like you always do.

"Come on in, Eli."

He steps inside.

And damn.

He looks like sin on two legs. The kind of sin God warns you about but never rescues you from.

He is tall and broad, his frame soaked from the rain, shoulders rounded from exhaustion. His brown skin glistens coppery in the amber lamplight, and he smells like wet tobacco, gunpowder, and cheap motel soap. That sharp Mississippi drawl clings to him even in silence.

You watch his intense acorn brown eyes pull over you, bare legs, silk nightgown, the curve of your body softened by the candlelight. His gaze gets stuck on your lips, then your chest, then further south.

He is already breathing heavier.

"Rougher night than usual?" you ask softly, knowing the answer.

He nods. Drops his coat. Doesn't say anything.

He still has that damn shoulder holster strapped under his vest. Still has dirt underneath his nails. His mouth is set tight, jaw clenching like he is chewing gum with a bitter aftertaste.

You take a step toward him, slow.

"You need to come down, baby. Let me help."

He does not move.

So you gently cup his face, rough stubble and skin chilled from the rain and tilt it toward yours.

"You ever gonna let go with me, soldier? Or are you too scared of what it will mean?"

That is when his eyelids flutter just for a second.

Got you.

You back him up until the backs of his knees hit your bed.

"Take off your shirt, Eli."

He hesitates for a moment, but then he literally peels the shirt off.

You notice how his thick chest rises and falls as he breathes, muscles tight with tension. A faint scar crosses his right shoulder, and another, lower, covers his ribs. His arms flex as he pulls his shirt over his head, skin slick with sweat and moisture.

He sits on the bed like he is in trouble.

Good. Because he is.

You take that as your cue to straddle him, soft thighs settling over his lap, nightdress creeping up as you lean in close.

"You know I have been thinking 'bout you," you murmur, trailing your fingers over his bare chest. "Thinking 'bout how good you feel inside me. And about how every time, you pull out like a coward ass nigga."

His whole body tenses.

"I know you want to," you whisper, your lips brushing against his jaw. "I know you want to fill me and watch me walk away with your cum runnin’ down my thighs."

"D-don't," he breathes. "Don't say shit like that, Y/N."

You smirk.

"Why not? Cause you won't be able to hold it back?"

A deep growl escapes his throat.

"I'm tryna be good now, Y/N," he mutters. "You know I can't—"

"You can. You just won't."

He doesn’t respond. He just helps you pull your gown over your head and tosses it to the floor.

You grind down slowly and can feel the hard, pulsing length of him beneath the fabric of his trousers.

"You always tryna protect me. Protect yourself. But you ever think maybe I want you to lose control, Eli?"

He lets out a shaky breath. His hips jerk up instinctively, grinding against you. His hands hover over your thighs, shaking like he doesn't know if he's allowed to touch.

"You know what I think?" you ask, your tone light but darkening. "I think the man that kills for Capone every night, the man that breaks bones like glass, the man who shoots first and asks questions later is really just a messy little submissive when the lights go out."

His breath hitches in his throat.

Bingo.

"You like it when I ride you 'til your voice breaks, huh? You like when I tell you you're doing good. You cum harder when I tell you you're mine, don't you?"

"Fuck—" he gasps, biting his bottom lip.

You lean in, your lips grazing his.

"You like it when I call you daddy too, don't you?"

He groans. His head falls back like he can't take it. His thighs flex hard beneath you.

"Say it," you demand.

He clenches his jaw. Stubborn as per usual. You slap his chest.

"Say it, Eli."

"...Yes," he finally chokes. "I-I fuckin' love it, Y/N. Please—"

"Please what, daddy?"

He whimpers.

"Please let me cum in you."

"Are you gonna be a good soldier for me tonight?"

He nods like he's being drafted into a war.

He pulls his trousers down and you take his cock out of his boxers and stroke him a few times before lining yourself up, sliding down slow. So damn slow and his whole body goes rigid.

"Fuuuuck," he moans, already breathless. Your wetness and heat damn near sending him over the edge.

“Shit,” you whimper as his grip on your hips tighten while he fills you with every inch.

You ride him slow. Tortuous. Deep.

"You're so thick, Eli. Stretching me like you were made for it."

"Don't— don't say that—baby, I can't—”

You dig your nails into his chest, letting out breathless curses and moans as you bounce harder on his fat dick.

"You can. You'll stay right there and take it. You'll let me fuck you 'til you lose every bit of that control you hold on to so tightly."

He nods wildly, hips thrusting up mechanically in rhythm with your grind.

"That's it. Be a good boy for me. My perfect little soldier."

"I'm I-I... oh shit— I ain’t gon’ last," he gasps. "I swear to God—"

You grab his throat, not too tightly but enough to make him notice. He moans, a deep breathlessly whimper.

"Quit talkin’ about it and do it, Elijah."

He gasps, eyes flying wide open.

You squeeze a little more.

"Be a good soldier and cum inside me like you always wanted to."

That's it.

He lets out a whimper so filthy that it takes the air right from your lungs. His whole body jolts. He grabs your waist like he's drowning and he just erupts inside of you with a guttural cry. You can feel hot thick pulses filling you deep, his hips twitching as he tries to ride the high.

"Shiiit—Y/N—fuck—fuck—"

You don't let up even when he starts twitching from overstimulation. You slowly shift your grip on his throat while leaning in close to him, lips against his ear.

"Look at that. You came so fast. So messy. You really are my little sub, huh?"

He nods, chest heaving, still hard inside you.

"Say it, Eli."

"…Y-you mine," he whispers. "I'm yours."

You're still straddling him, bare and full, hips flush to his as the rain patters against the window like a lullaby.

The room is soaked in sex, skin, and tobacco… the real stuff, earthy and weighty. His breath is slowing, but his arms are still around your waist, like he doesn't trust the air between you enough to let go.

Your arms drape sweaty and lazy around his thick, muscly neck, fingers curling into the damp curls at the base of his skull. He trembles faintly still, the aftershocks rippling through him like he'd just survived a war.

And you?

You are calm. Soft, brown skin glowing. Pressing sweet open-mouthed kisses to every inch of his cheeks, his jaw, the bridge of his nose. Each time he flinches just a little, like he forgot how it felt to be loved on like that. It’s been a while. Years.

“Breathe, baby,” you murmur against his temple. “You're safe.”

His chest rises and falls under your arm, broad, solid, scarred, and beautiful. His arms are like steel cables wrapping around you, but the tension is finally bleeding out of them. He melts into you inch by inch, right there in your arms.

Kissing his forehead. His dimple. That special spot behind his ear that always makes him groan when you suck on it.

“You did so good for me, Eli.”

A soft hum vibrates in his throat—less a sound, more a feeling that escaped.

You kiss the corner of his mouth and rock your hips just a little. He shivers. Still inside you, overstimulated and raw.

“Sensitive?” you tease gently.

“Hell, yeah,” he rasps, his voice low and gravelly, like wheels grinding on gravel. “You tryin' to kill me?”

“Mm-mm. Just tryin' to bring you back to life, nigga.”

He huffs a half-laugh, his voice loose now, lazy and southern, no longer clipped by stress.

“Damn...I ain't even know how much I needed that,” he mutters without thinking.

You still.

And so does he.

His eyes flick up, startled, like his words broke through his armor and he's afraid they'll cause irreversible damage.

But you don’t tease him. You don’t flinch.

You just kiss his cheek again, more softly now, and whisper, “I did.”

He looks at you like he's not sure how to survive being seen this completely. His fingers trace up and down your spine now, slow, and reverent.

"You always this sweet after you take a nigga soul?" He questions, smirking just a little, but there's that tiny ache in his voice again. That ghost.

“Only for you,” you reply honestly.

You stay like that for a while. Rocking slowly. Breathing together.

Eventually, you peel yourself off him with some effort and a giggle.

“Damn,” you say, walking gingerly to the bathroom, his warm cum slowly seeping out of you and down your thigh, “you really did try to put a baby in me.”

“Don't tempt me,” he calls after you, his voice hoarse, amused.

But when you return with a warm rag, kneel between his knees, and start to clean him with slow, gentle thoroughness?

He goes quiet again.

He watches you with that same overwhelmed look like you are a hymn he doesn't understand how to sing.

You kiss his thigh.

Then his stomach. You feel it flutter.

You stand and lean down to kiss his lips.

“Next time,” you whisper as you knead one of the knots in his right shoulder, “I want you to beg before you fill me like that.”

“Yes, ma'am," he says without missing a beat then laughs at how quick it was to come out. "Goddamn. You really had me."

"Took your black ass long enough to figure that out."

Without warning he pulls you back into his lap and you let out a small squeak as you giggle and settle back into his lap. He’s still rock hard and you’re still a soaked mess.

Smoke grunts softly as you sink down on him again and admits, “I like the way you handle me. Do it again.”

You moan a giggle, teasing, “Mmm…you tellin’ me or askin’ me?”

He pauses.

Jaw clenched. Eyes locked on yours. Still buried deep.

Then he says quiet, rough, but honest, “I’m askin’.”

Your breath catches.

He’s still strong. Still big and very dangerous.

But right now? He’s yours.

All pride stripped. All power offered. Not taken.

You lean in, kiss him much sweeter this time and whisper against his lips, “Good. ‘Cause I wasn’t finished with you anyway.”

And then you move with intentional precision.

And boy does he lets you.

He groans, head falling back, voice wrecked as you swirl in his lap, clenching around the tip of his dick when you bounce up, “Fuck… you gon’ break me tonight, huh?”

You push him down so his back is against the bed, your palms flat against his chest as you bounce harder and moan, “That’s what you want right?”

He nods, smacking your ass as hard as he can, “Mhm, that’s what the fuck I need, baby. Don’t stop.”

And of course you don’t stop.

#and now my damn scalp is gone

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randomwordprompts · 16 days ago

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Someone said “Smoke commanded every room he walked into except for Annie’s” and so I’m rewatching Sinners again 🤷‍♀️

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randomwordprompts · 17 days ago

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The smut in this was great but the way Jon was reacting actually has me in tears from laughing 😂😂

Wild Side

Author's note: I've been under the weather yall. But, I hope this makes up for me being gone. 🤎

Warning: Smut included, please... Minors DNI! 18+ crew Only!

2.2K Words😏

OMNISCIENT|

The day had been perfect.

Fresh air. Campfire smoke lingering in your clothes. Trin and Jon’s kids, Jayla and Jaiden, were running around chasing Jaciyah and Jeyce with sticks, and someone had already tried to roast a marshmallow before dinner.

“Y’all don’t burn this damn forest down,” Jon shouted from the cooler, twisting a bottle open. “I’m not explainin’ that to nobody.”

Trin laughed from her chair, already sliding a skewer from one kid’s hand.

The tents were set up in a neat little circle—one big one for the kids, one for Jon and Trin, and yours tucked off to the side, just far enough that Joshua had already whispered three inappropriate things to you since unzipping the flap.

You were sprawled on a blanket next to him when he leaned over again.

“Come hike with me,” he murmured, brushing your thigh with his fingertips. “Just a quick walk.”

You raised a brow. “A ‘walk’ or a walk-walk?”

He smirked. “You know what type of walk.”

“Joshua…” you said with a mock warning. “We’re surrounded by children.”

“That’s why we walkin’.”

“Where y’all goin’?” Jon asked without looking up, as Jey stood and casually grabbed his hoodie and phone.

“Hikin’,” Jey replied.

“In the woods?” Jon raised a brow. “Try not to get mauled by a bear while you out there ‘bondin’.’”

You opened your mouth to respond when one of the kids piped up, “Can I come?!”

“Ohhh, baby,” Trin said quickly, standing, scooping them up mid-stride. “No you can’t. Come help Auntie Trin with s’mores. They gon’ be gone for a little second.”

She winked at you over her shoulder.

The Hike.

The sun was already beginning to dip, casting everything in a soft, golden haze. The forest was quiet except for birds and your own laughter as Joshua led you through trees, up a dirt path, until you spotted it—a small rock overhang tucked between boulders.

A natural cave.

Shaded. Cool. Private.

“Tell me we not doing this in here,” you breathed, heart racing as he tugged you inside.

He turned to face you, that cocky smirk already playing on his lips. “You been walkin’ around all day in those shorts, swingin’ all that ass... and you thought I wasn’t gon’ fuck you out here?”

You shivered.

He pressed you to the stone wall, hands warm on your hips, his chain brushing your chest as his lips found your neck.

The cave was dim—but the opening let in the last light of sunset, casting warm orange and pink glows across the rocks, turning you into a masterpiece in motion.

You kissed him hard, fingers already dragging his hoodie off—he tossed it aside, then stopped to fold it and lay it down on a smooth rock.

“Get on your knees.”

You blinked.

“What?”

“You not scraping them pretty ass knees on rocks. You gon’ remember I look out for you.”

You did. You dropped down, sinking your mouth onto his dick, slowly sucking as he groaned above you—head dropped back, hand sliding into your hair as your tongue teased his tip.

“Shit… keep lookin’ up at me, baby. I want the camera to catch this.”

He reached for his phone. Propped it on a little ledge. Hit record.

“Smile for me, bae.”

You did. Filthy and soft, eyes heavy as you swallowed him deeper.

But he didn’t let you finish him. He pulled you up, kissed you deep, and then turned you around to face the glowing cave entrance.

“Bend over.”

He yanked your shorts and panties down in one tug, palming your ass as he lined himself up.

“No rock burns,” he muttered, grabbing your wrists. He hooked your arms behind your back, wrapped one of his around them like a handle, and with one deep, brutal thrust, he was inside.

You cried out, body slamming forward—but he held you still.

“Stay right there,” he growled. “Gon’ fuck you so good you forget how to get back to the tents.”

He thrust deep. Over and over. Your moans echoed off the cave walls, his hips slapping your ass with rhythmic force, the sunset painting you both in golds and reds.

“I wanna remember this shit forever,” he muttered, looking back at his phone. “That light hittin’ your back… this ass bouncin’... gah-damn.”

He shifted—deeper, hips hitting new angles, that chain of his brushing your shoulders every time he leaned down to kiss your neck.

Your knees gave out.

He caught you. Held you up by your arms. Never slowing.

“That’s it,” he breathed. “Take that shit. Let me fuck you like nature intended.”

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak.

You came hard—eyes rolling, legs twitching, pussy clenched tight around him.

He growled, cursed, then slammed into you one last time, holding deep as he emptied into you—hot, thick, pulsing through every inch of your shaking body.

He pulled out slow, watching his cum leak down your thighs, then leaned in and kissed your shoulder softly.

“You gon’ walk back?” he teased.

“Barely.”

He stopped the recording. Smirked.

“Good. Now we got a souvenir.”

You and Joshua returned to camp with leaves in your hair and sin on your skin.

Your thighs were still trembling. Your heart still hadn’t recovered from the cave performance you just put on—one that was currently saved in 4K on his phone.

As soon as you walked into the glow of the firelight, Trin raised a brow.

“Took y’all long enough.”

You shrugged, trying to look not freshly fucked.

“Got a little… lost.”

“Mmhm.” She sipped her wine out of a camping mug. “You sure it wasn’t your soul that got lost somewhere on that hike?”

Before you could respond, Jon reached across the log bench, grabbing the wrong phone from the cooler top where Jey had tossed his.

“Yo, Uce, you got that picture of the kids earlier?”

“Yeah—hold up—” Jey turned just in time to see Jon already swiping up to unlock the screen.

Too late.

The last-opened app? Photo gallery. The last thing it was on?

The. Fucking. Video.

You watched in horror as Jon’s eyes locked on the phone, head tilted, face scrunched.

It was muted. Thank God it was muted.

But it only took 0.5 seconds for him to see your ass in the sunset light, Jey’s chain swinging, and Jey’s arm yanking your wrists back like a goddamn handlebar.

Jon blinked.

Paused.

Stared a little too long.

Then whipped his head around to Jey, lips pressed into a line.

“...Bruh.”

“What?” Jey asked way too casually, reaching for the phone. “Oh shit, my bad.”

Jon handed it over slow. “You didn’t think to lock that up?!”

“I was gon' transfer it to my safe keepin',” Jey muttered, slipping it in his pocket.

Trin, watching this whole thing unfold, leaned over and asked, “What happened?”

Jon looked around dramatically, lowered his voice, and said under his breath

“I just saw our brother rearrange this girl like a goddamn yoga instructor in a cave. That’s what happened.”

Trin choked on her wine. You slapped Jey’s arm.

“Why the hell would you leave that open?!”

“I wanted to watch it again!” he whisper-yelled.

“I swear to God, if one of the kids saw it—”

“We didn’t let ‘em touch the phones, but theirs” Trin whispered back, now giggling behind her cup. “Still. Y’all nasty as hell. In a cave?!”

“She bent like a pretzel!” Jon whisper-yelled, completely unhinged. “Sunset lighting?! Who does that?!”

“Shhh!” you hissed. “The kids are right there—”

And sure enough, a few feet away, Jayla was yelling about a burnt marshmallow while Jaiden dared Jaciyah to eat a half-melted gummy worm from the dirt.

Clueless. Thank God.

“They didn’t see shit!” Jey argued, lips twitching. “They the ones being nosy.”

“Oh I’m nosy now?” Jon pointed at his chest. “You left art school footage in your damn camera roll, and I’m nosy?!”

Trin leaned in, voice low. “Next time y’all wanna do some National Geographic freaky shit, put it in a locked folder.”

The four of you sat back down around the fire, faces straight, bodies still, pretending nothing had happened.

Until Jon leaned over and muttered, "Better off getting mauled by a damn bear."

“Y’all really not gonna let this go, huh?” you whispered, mortified.

“Hell no.” Jon leaned forward, expression wild in the glow of the fire. “That shit is burned into my corneas. Uce was hittin' angles I ain’t even seen on the hub.”

"I'm sure he was talkin' shit too." Trin added, eyes squinted.

Jey just chuckled and threw an arm around you, kissing your temple. “I was talkin’ shit,” he whispered to you, deep and low, just to make your thighs clench under the blanket.

You elbowed him in the ribs.

Jon stood suddenly, throwing his hands up.

“Nah. See. That’s it. I’m takin’ the kids for a hike in the morning. Alone. Away from this sex mountain energy. Y’all nasty.”

Trin rolled her eyes. “Boy, sit down."

Then Jon sat back down, dramatically adjusting his hoodie like he was in a confessional.

“Nah. You know what?” he muttered, dead serious. “Next time I see a bear on a hike, I’m lettin’ it take me. Better off gettin’ mauled than seein’ my twin breakin’ backs in sunset Ultra HD.”

Silence.

Then Jey, cool as ever, leaned forward and said, “Bet the bear can’t hit the angles like I did though.”

“OH MY GOD.” Jon nearly launched himself into the firepit. “I NEED EAR BLEACH.”

The night had cooled into something soft.

Dinner was done, paper plates tossed, and the kids had long since retreated to their oversized tent with their phones glowing and faint music leaking out between zipped seams.

You sat curled under your blanket beside Trin, both of you two wine glasses in, cheeks flushed, voices low. Across the firepit, the men nursed cold beers, Jey and Jon laughing about something they saw earlier, the orange flames casting sharp shadows across their faces.

It was peaceful.

Trin nudged you. “Sooo…”

You turned slowly. “Don’t start.”

She raised both brows. “Girl. You think I’m not gonna ask about the cave?”

You giggled behind your glass.

“Oh, so you admit it happened!”

You sighed, smiling into your cup. “Yes. We found a cave. No. I didn’t know he was gonna record it.”

Trin blinked dramatically. “Oh, he set y’all up for a full Nat Geo docuseries.”

“I swear it just… happened,” you whispered. “He laid down his hoodie for my knees like we were in a fuckin’ backwoods Airbnb.”

Trin laughed so hard her wine sloshed.

“You good though?” she asked softer. “Like, not just physically—but like… y’all in sync? ‘Cause I seen the way he looks at you.”

You followed her gaze to Jey.

He wasn’t laughing anymore. He was watching you now—quiet, eyes dark and focused, one hand lazily resting on his thigh, his beer forgotten.

Your whole body buzzed from the weight of his stare.

You smiled.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “We… good.”

A Little Later

The campfire was down to low embers.

Jon carried one of the kids’ hoodies back to their tent, and Trin tossed her empty wine cup with a quiet yawn.

“Y’all good?” she asked you with a smirk.

You nodded, pulling your hoodie tighter. “Mmhm.”

“Uh huh,” she said, not believing a damn word.

When you and Jey finally slipped into your own tent, the world went still again.

Crickets chirped outside. The air was cool but the sleeping bags were warm. A lantern cast a soft amber glow above you, and Jey was already tugging his hoodie off, watching you from under low lashes.

You barely zipped the flap behind you when he moved.

His hands found your waist. His lips grazed your neck. His voice, low and soft.

“I ain’t stop thinking about you since the cave.”

You inhaled slowly.

His hands slid beneath your hoodie—palms warm on your skin. He pulled you closer, lips ghosting over your cheek, then down your jaw.

“You let me wreck you earlier…” he murmured. “Now, I wanna love you right.”

He laid you down gently.

Sleeping bags rustled beneath you. The tent’s fabric shifted with every breath, but you were wrapped in his scent.

He kissed down your stomach. Slow. Reverent.

Your shorts were pulled down. Then your panties. And then his mouth found your center.

Warm. Wet. Perfect.

He licked slow. Flat tongue strokes. Lazy pressure that had your thighs trembling. Then he sucked on your clit, slow and deep, two fingers sliding inside you, curling just right.

You bit your lip to stay quiet.

“J-Josh…”

“Shhh,” he whispered. “I got you.” His voice was like silk. Fingers firm. Tongue addictive.

You gripped the sleeping bag as your climax crept in slow, winding like the vines outside the tent—curling into your core, snapping loose with a soundless cry as your back arched, thighs clamping around his head.

He kissed your thighs. Your belly. Your lips.

Then he slid inside you.

Slow. Gentle. Deep.

His hips moved with care—grinding into you like he had forever. Like this wasn’t just sex—it was connection. Worship. A vow.

He whispered in your ear between each thrust.

“So warm.” “So perfect.”

Your breath hitched.

His forehead pressed to yours, pace slow, deep, unrelenting in emotion.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice cracking slightly. "Love yo ass so fuckin' much." You bit your lip as you suppressed the moan that threatened to spill from mouth. After exhaling you parted your lips, as he continued to slowly dig you out. "I-I love you too."

You came like that—his confession breaking you, your body tightening around him as he held you close, kissed your neck, rocked deeper into your high.

He followed soon after, burying himself deep, filling you slow, his breath stuttering against your skin as he came whispering your name.

You stayed wrapped around each other in the quiet after.

He wiped your face softly with a shirt, kissed your temple, and whispered, “Sleep, mama. I got you.”

And a few feet over, Trin nudged Jon. “They at it again.”

Jon rolled over, face in the pillow and lowly smacked his lips, “Should've pitched us further away.”

--------------------------------

Taglist: @uceypunk @aikosilo @hauntedskye @partypoison00 @uceyliyahh @paigereeder @isabella-2025 @milt-9221 @theusotwinzcom @hunnidmilly @tribalchief2112 @msripleybennett @luvrsluxe @4milly @empressdede @fearlesschimera @bebesobrielo @fafomama @sheaabuttaababyy @soccergirlbee@mindairy @prettypink-princesss @mamis-girly @capswife@luuvprincess @duhitzkay380

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randomwordprompts · 17 days ago

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One of the best things about the "I Lied To You" sequence (well, all of it was amazing) was how the spirits just... appeared. Not in a puff of smoke, beam of light, or even a fade-in effect, they were just there. Walking into frame or the camera panning past them as if they've been there the whole time. Which I know was the point, spirits are always there. But that was such a cool, grounded way of showing it on film, it made it all the more epic to watch.

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randomwordprompts · 17 days ago

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Sammie:Plucks one string on his guitar

The ancestors:

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randomwordprompts · 17 days ago

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Thinking about how stacks last words were "Smoke, I'm so scared. Love you."

Thinking about how Smoke pulls up Stack's pants to give him some dignity.

Thinking about how as he pulled up Stack's pants, he probably thought about dressing Stack to lay him to rest in his favorite suit and that may be part of the reason he snapped "this ain't no dead body, its Stack" at Annie to correct her and himself.

Thinking about how despite clearly telling Annie he doesn't believe in her hoodoo hours before, even cheap shotting her with asking "why didn't it protect our baby", he begs her for her power and skill to bring Stack back.

Thinking about how Smoke sits there holding Stack, his brother's blood covering him like the heaviest sin he's ever had to bear, not keeping Stack safe.

Thinking about how Smoke had gold on his teeth too on the other side, but we never get to hear people talking about it because he doesn't speak much and doesn’t smile until the very end, holding his daughter.

Thinking about how Smoke seems to almost view Stack's death as his own failure. How he can't go through with staking his little brother and cuts a deal. And how in doing that, Smoke allows himself to go handle Remmick, and later the Klan.

Thinking about how Smoke chose to stay behind and get rid of the klansmen. How all those people in the juke died on his watch, and he gets the opportunity to eliminate one more threat, and the excuse to not go on with the grief of being alone.

Thinking about Annie being the narrator even though the story doesn't follow her. Thinking about how she could be recounting the story to her baby while they wait for papa.

Thinking about Annie's wisdom and skill saving them at multiple points.

Thinking about how they all defer to Annie at once, no questions, and never dismiss her.

Thinking about how Annie's wisdom would have gotten them through the night. How Remmick saw that and knew that the weak links were going to be Grace and Smoke, playing their loved ones and facts against them.

Thinking about how Remmick seems to remember from cornbread in particular that Annie is clever and is thus a threat.

Thinking about how even though Annie is using Divination to foresee any hope, when she doesn't she meets that with understanding and grace as she tells Smoke what has to be done.

Thinking about how close Annie must have been with Mary. Mary was devastated enough to break the hive mind, and have Stack attempt to get her to safety.

Thinking about how no nonsense but still compassionate Annie and Smoke were.

Thinking.....

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randomwordprompts · 18 days ago

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So like...hi. I make 3d people now 👀

#3d render #daz 3d studio

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randomwordprompts · 2 years ago

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#1 thing anyone can do for an artist is comment on their work Im gonna be riding that high for the next two weeks

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randomwordprompts · 2 years ago

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if you're black, reblog this

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randomwordprompts · 2 years ago

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Ya know...I didn't think I'd be considering writing anything again but a combo of my amazingly talented friends inspiring me and impure thoughts really got the Google Doc open.

#my writing #the lectors

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randomwordprompts · 2 years ago

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A taglist turla got me weak but this was so cute!!!

Coffee Bae

Pairing: Kevin Atwater x Black Med! OC (Karis Z. Brown, M.D., F.A.C.S., F.A.C.C.)

A/N: Hey y’all! Happy New Year! After the love “Just One Round” received, I wanted to give y’all an origin story. Also, I wanted to modify something. While Black women wake up phenomenal beings, we can’t do everything. That being said, Karis is just cardiothoracic surgeon, rather than both a trauma AND cardiothoracic surgeon. I’m sure she’ll thank me for lessening her load. Y’all ready? Cool, here’s the story!

**I had to re-upload because the rough draft uploaded rather than the finished product. I apologize**

Summary: A chance meeting at the local coffee shop get Kevin and Karis together.

Word Count: 1384

Warning(s): Black Love, language

Pressurized steam, clinking porcelain, shouted names, and scattered conversations were the soundtrack to Karis’s morning trip to her favorite coffee shop, Jahva Coffee Bazaar. Her godparents’ coffee shop had been her safe haven since she moved to Chicago nearly a year ago. Karis traded in Hand Grenades and beignets for Harold’s mild wings and miserable winters. However, with the dramatic change in environment came unprecedented professional and personal growth.

Today was her first lecture at Chicago Central. She would be speaking to the med school students as a part of their cardiology education. Nervous was an understatement; she spent most of the day before revising and rehearsing the lecture. Now, she was at Jahva in her usual spot: the corner booth in towards the back.

One of the unique elements of Jahva was the element of community. Bruce and Juanita— Karis’s godparents— insisted strangers sit together when it got busy. For some reason, today was that day. The Friday morning traffic was busier than usual; more students and professionals stationed their electronics on the tables and counters. To make matters worse, it rained throughout the morning.

Kevin braved the rain to make it to Jahva. Wayward droplets cascaded off of the sleeves of his black puffy coat, falling to the welcome mat at the front door. He scanned the coffee shop for an available seat as he stood in line, cursing to himself as he failed to find a vacant spot.

Sure enough, he spotted Karis in her corner booth. Just as he confirmed his intended destination, Bruce, her godfather and shop owner, caught Kevin’s attention.

“Kevin, my man! What’s good witcha this mornin’?” The two men dapped each other up.

“Can’t complain, Unc. I don’t have to be at the station until later on…,” his eyes wandered back towards Karis,”…so I’m here.”

This time, her gaze met his. She grinned and returned her focus to her MacBook.

Kevin resumed his conversation with Bruce, “Aye real quick. Gotta question for ya, Unc.”

“Shoot.”

“Do you know who that beautiful young lady is over there?” Kevin nodded in her direction as to not gain attention to himself.

Bruce chuckled to himself, “Of course. She’s my goddaughter. She’s a surgeon and just moved into the city bout a year ago. If you want to sit by her, just go over there. I’ll send your usual that way.”

Kevin patted Bruce’s back in appreciation, “Good lookin’ out, Unc.”

Karis watched the tall, handsome man strut towards her. In a panic, she re-opened her lecture notes on her laptop. She had to look busier than she actually was. Her commitment to the diversion worked. She felt a presence in front of her. Her eyes met his once again, this time, she smiled, revealing the thin gap that nestled between her two front teeth. His gaze intensified.

“Is uhh…,” Kevin began to fumble over his words, “is this uhhh…seat…taken?”

Karis chuckled at his schoolboy-like nervousness, “Actually, I was hoping you sat next to me when you came in.” She picked her work bag out of the empty seat across from her, “Please, have a seat.”

Kevin bit his lip as he sat down, excited that she accepted his request. He thanked her, to which she graciously welcomed him. As he sat down, he reached his hand out towards her, “I’m Kevin by the way. Kevin Atwater.”

She quickly shook his hand, “Karis Brown. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Karis? I like that,” a grin spread across his face, “Beautiful name for a beautiful lady.”

The next twenty minutes were spent with a lively introductory conversation. He was shocked to hear that she was born in Colorado Springs and raised in North Memphis. Like most people, he observed that didn’t seem to have a Memphis. “Oh no, honey, I’m just not around my peoples. God knew not to let me work at home,” she joked.

“Oh, so you from Memphis?! North Memphis?! Project Pat, ‘Today you'll hear the story of Russell Resthaven and the day he tried to save his girlfriend’, Nawf Memphis?!” he jokingly replied as he pulled his coffee closer to him.

Before she could acknowledge his knowledge of Memphis rap, her phone lit up with the reminder of the engagement in 45 minutes. “Shit!,” she yelped. She put her laptop and tablet in her “professional” work bag—a large bronze Telfar shopping bag. She took a napkin and scribbled on it. “I’m sorry, but I gotta go. It was nice to meet you, Kevin. Have a great day,” she called out as she walked out.

A defeated Kevin looked to Bruce, who just shrugged his shoulders. As she reversed out of the parking lot, a knot of guilt pained Karis’s stomach. She didn’t want their conversation to end so abruptly. However, it had been years since she held an entertaining conversation with a man. “Don’t worry, he’ll be at Jahva another day,” Karis assured herself as she drove to Chicago Central University. Only time would tell.

Sundays were for church, sports, and cleaning. Karis made it to church, even after working an overnight shift. After church and a quick nap, it was time to complete the weekly cleaning reset. Karis changed out of her scrubs in favor of the new fuzzy lounge set her mother sent as a house-warming gift. She then lit a fresh linen scented candle before calling on her Google home device, “Hey, Google. Shuffle my holy ghost cleaning playlist.”

“You got it. Shuffling Holy Ghost Cleaning Playlist on Spotify.” Her Nest got things started with Fred Hammond’s “We’re Blessed”.

Song after song, she rid the house of the passing messes made during the week. She re-homed the pile of boxes that crowded the foyer to their respective places. She swept and cleaned her floors. Finally, she gave the kitchen a deep clean: mopping the floors, disinfecting the newly-installed granite countertops, and washed the dish towels and carpets. Maintaining a clean house as an on-call surgeon was hard; but the thought of cleaning during the week was laughable.

The praise and worship cleaning service faded out to an incoming call from a 708 number.

She jogged to the living room to see the unknown number. She initially wanted to push it off, assuming it was a scam call. Yet, something told her to answer.

“Karis Brown,” she answered with reasonable hesitation.

“Karis,” there was a sigh of relief on the other end, “Girl, you had me worried you wasn’t finna answer.”

“Kevin?,” she asked.

“Not gon’ hold you, I was scared I’d never talk to you again until I looked down and saw your name and number on that napkin.”

“I was hoping you’d gotten it. How was your weekend?”

The two engaged in small talk once again, he asked how the Friday lecture went and the weekend went overall. All went well by her account.

“Listen, I uh…was wondering…if umm…you wanted to…go to brunch in about an hour? It’s a place I’ve been meaning to go that’s in Bronzeville. I wasn’t sure if you were in church or sleep or anything like that.”

She chuckled at his consideration, “You’re so cute. I went to 7:30 Eucharist after my shift this morning so I’m good to go. I would love to continue our conversation.”

“Bet, so it’s… 10:45 now. Say I meet you at noon?”

“Sounds good. See you then, Kevin.”

Karis couldn’t put your finger on it exactly, but something about talking to Kevin refreshed her soul. Karis’s walk to her closet was a scurried shuffle. She was elated for the outing with Coffee Bae.

Fin.

My Lawwwd! A Taglist Turlaaaaaaa!

@muse-of-mbaku @kumkaniudaku @goddessofthundathighs @mbakusthrone @mbakuwife @crushed-pink-petals-writes @forgottenthoughtsandmemories @jackburtonsays @randomwordprompts @bakarilennox @wakandan-flowerz @ljstraightnochaser @babygirlofwakanda @eerythingisshaka @turn-thy-paige @darqchilddaydreamz @doublesidedscoobysnacks @wakandas-vibranium @oshasimone @destinio1 @sonofnjobu @teheeboo @sarahboseman @itsjustyazz @iamrheaspeaks @chaneajoyyy @lovelynervouschaos @katasstrophey @mareethequeen @jozigrrl @jellybean531 @awerkofart @storibambino @blackgirloneshots @royallyprincesslilly @certifiednatural @orchiddreamz

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randomwordprompts · 2 years ago

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Now see here-

91% Function

Paring: Shuri x Fem!Black Reader

Warnings: 18+ content, dirty talk, praise kink, vibranium strap, lesbian sex

Word count: 2.1k

Translations: Yeyona shit yesondo kakhulu endakha ndayifumana = That’s the sexiest shit I have ever seen, Hayi = No, Sithandwa = My love, Ndiyakudinga = I need you, Ukuya esihogweni kunye nehempe emhlophe = To hell with that short white man, Ewe, sithandwa sam. Ndiyazi = Yes, my love. I know, Molo kwintombazana yam entle = Hello to my beautiful girlfriend

Your calmness slipped with each passing hour. Your girlfriend, Shuri, was supposed to be back from America hours ago. This was nothing new to you. Shuri traveled quite often, especially now that she was Black Panther, but she had been gone for 20 days, 11 hours, and 36 minutes.

You missed her terribly.

And you ached for her deep inside.

You both agreed not to pleasure yourselves until she returned. You were doing well until around day 10 when you discovered new footage of Shuri in Massachusetts, leaping across a tall building in her panther suit alongside Riri as they both took down a rogue CIA member.

Her swift, confident glides made you proud of her, but also frisky. You two have always had great sex, but since she took the heart-shaped herb, the sex shifted into something borderline astronomical.

You tapped a bead on your kimoyo bracelet, admiring your half naked figure in the full-length mirror beside your bed as you waited for Shuri to answer.

“Molo kwintombazana yam entle.” Shuri answered on the third ring.

“Where are you?” You blurted, unwilling to let her cuteness distract you.

“I am about thirty minutes out from the river border.”

“Thirty minutes?! Shuri, you were supposed to be here two hours ago.”

“Ewe, sithandwa sam. Ndiyazi,” Shuri sighed, “I got caught up in a conversation with Agent Ross and lost track of time.”

“Ukuya esihogweni kunye nehempe emhlophe!” You rolled your eyes, flopping dramatically onto the bed.

“Bast, (Y/N)!” Shuri admonished as she failed to contain her snickers.

“Oh, you think it’s funny?”

“Yes, you do get more agitated than usual when I am away for more than a week.”

“Ndiyakudinga.” You whined.

“I need you, too. I apologize for being late. I will make it up to you.”

“How?”

“With Riri’s help I was able to get the apparatus to 91% function. Figured we could test it when I arrive?”

You sat up instantly on the bed, beyond impressed. You two had been throwing around ideas for improving the vibranium strap's versatility for a while now.

“Wow, 91%! So, that means there’s a good chance that—“

“—That you will feel what I feel and I will feel what you feel.”

“Shit.” You cursed, moaning lightly as you rubbed yourself through your yellow lace panties.

“Mhm.”

“Bast, I don’t know which position we should try first.” You breathed, sliding your panties to the side for direct access.

“Well, hands and knees do seem to be your personal favorite.” She added, chuckling lightly.

You spread your legs a little more before dipping a finger inside your slick hole. You could not wait any longer. Three weeks was your limit. You were a touch starved mess.

“Do not start without me, sithandwa.”

“What? I’m not.” You lied.

“I can hear your finger sliding in and out of you, Y/N.”

Damn, you forgot how much stronger her hearing was now. Oh, well.

“You hear how wet I am for you?”

“Yes, I hear it,” Shuri purred, rubbing at her thigh to distract from the pulsation under her pants, “I cannot wait to taste it.”

The sultry inflection of her voice was enough to drive you to slide a second finger in, moaning louder this time. “I can’t wait to feel you inside me.”

Shuri gasped, “I know you did not just add another fing—“

“—Mmm, it feels so good.” You cut her off, whimpering as you felt the edge nearing.

“Take your fingers out, Y/N. Now.”

“Hayi.” You disobeyed.

“No?” The sheer shock in Shuri’s voice would have made you laugh if circumstances were different. She sounded scandalized.

“I’m about to come, Shuri.”

“Do you remember what happened the last time you were being a disobedient brat?”

You did remember which is why you angled your two fingers and thrusted them faster inside you. Shuri had you calling on every god in existence that night. The memory alone had you throbbing.

“You better answer me, Y/N.”

Your climax was approaching and little did Shuri know, she was talking you up and right through it.

“Y/N.” Shuri repeated, growling into her kimoyo beads and that sent you over the edge.

You came as hard and as loud as you wanted. Consequences be damned. You had been holding that in for three long ass weeks. The orgasm was nice, but without your girlfriend you were always left ravenous. Shuri was silent for a beat, listening to your ragged breaths and sinful moans. You shivered as you pulled your fingers out and brought them up to your mouth to lick them clean.

“Prepare to take every inch I give you.” Shuri hissed. You could hear her breaths become harsher. Oooh, she was mad. Good.

The last thing you heard was Shuri swearing and one of the Dora Milaje responding to Shuri's question about their whereabouts.

“We will be home in seven mi—“

The combination of the abrupt silence and your girlfriend's last words sent a sweet chill down your spine. The thought of your impending punishment made you wetter. Even though, the icy tone of Shuri's warning had you swallowing the nervous lump in your throat. You knew she meant business.

You sobbed a moan while hot tears started to pool in your eyes as you were denied yet another orgasm. Shuri pulled out of you just as you were about to come. She left you lying there on your back as she moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

She looked back at you, enjoying the drenched, sensitive mess spread out before her. Looking into her eyes, you could not suppress the ache and frustration you felt. For the fourth time, she has pushed you to the precipice, only to yank you back at the last second. You were going to wither away if you didn’t come soon.

“Don’t look at me like that. You brought this on yourself.” She shrugged, looking down at the strap attached to her. She stroked it loosely as it was slick with your wetness.

“Please let me come.” You begged as you sat up on your knees.

“Come to me.” Shuri called over her shoulder.

You crawled to the edge of the bed, stopping beside her. She turned her face toward you, grinning as she saw the desperation in your eyes.

“Ride me until you come.” She gestured for you to straddle her lap and you obeyed, moving with an eager quickness.

You both moaned softly as you eased your pussy down the length of the strap. The model was only at 91% and it was revealing to you both various levels of pleasure you thought were impossible to achieve.

You began to bounce slowly, but quickly found your pacing, up and down, swirl and grind. You lowered your gaze to Shuri, silently pleading with her to touch you. With a playful glint in her eyes, she looked up at you.

“Baby, please touch me.” You huffed, bouncing harder.

Usually when you were riding your girlfriend she would grip your waist to help you move up and down, suck your nipples, or smack your ass. SOMETHING! She wasn’t doing anything. She was leaned back, both palms spread against the bed as she watched you fuck yourself onto her. It drove you crazy when she didn’t touch you and she fucking knew it.

“Obviously you no longer need my help to get you there.”

“But I do need you, baby. Please help me come.”

“Tough.” Shuri said, not moving an inch.

You pinched her shoulder in frustration and she just laughed at you, unfazed.

Fine. If she wanted to play like that then so be it.

You shoved two of your fingers in your mouth and sucked on them before bringing them to massage your clit. Your eyes fluttered closed as your threw your head back and moaned loudly.

“Fuck, Shuri. You feel so good inside of me.”

You knew she loved when you were vocal about how she made you feel during sex and would eventually touch you.

“No one could ever fuck me like you do,” you continued, “I love the way you fuck me.”

The cocky grin she was sporting faltered as she let out a deep moan, soon after she rolled her hips up to meet your vigorous bounces.

A climax tore through your stomach as soon as Shuri bent forward to capture your rigid nipple in her mouth, and you threw your head back and whimpered.

You were only given a few spare moments to catch your breath before Shuri picked you up and fucked you against the wall.

Sheer unadulterated euphoria flowed through you. You were so sex dazed that you couldn't recall how many times you came in the last thirty minutes, but Shuri was still not through with you. Sweat was the only barrier between the two of you. Your passion for her only deepened with each carnal kiss and perfectly calculated thrust.

You were now on your hands and knees, chestnut thighs shaking like a cheap, synthetic wig on a windy night. The noises of pleasure that escaped your lips were so loud and obscene you took it upon yourself to shove your face into an orange satin pillow. You knew your throat was going to be sore and your voice would be gone come tomorrow. Still, you didn’t care. Shuri was fucking you too damn good for you to be silent.

“Thank me while I fuck you.” Shuri grunted as her hand came down, smacking your plump ass, making the flesh jiggle from the ample force.

“Aaah! Th—thank you! Thank you!” You whimpered as you rocked back onto her.

With her free hand, Shuri gripped your throat and pulled you up, bringing your sweaty back to rest against her chest. She slowed her thrusts and ground into you slowly as she pecked delicate kisses across your cheek and down the neck to your shoulder.

“You always take me so well, Y/N.”

You could barely form a word so you just nodded. She knew all too well what her praises did to you.

“If only you listened as well as you took me.”

Shuri kissed your ear and nibbled on your earlobe before whispering, “Are you going to be good from now on and listen?”

“Yes.” You vowed, gasping as Shuri began to rub tight circles around your clit.

“Yes, what?” The deepness of her lust filled voice never failed to send you into a frenzy.

“Yes, Panther. I promise.” You groaned.

“That’s what I like to hear.” She panted.

“Shuri, please,” you pleaded as she rubbed your clit even faster, “I can’t come again.”

“Mmm, I think you can give me one more. Shall we try the highest pulsation?” Shuri pressed on the side of the strap twice, bringing it to level five. You cried out in pleasure, not only because the ability to feel what Shuri was feeling intensified, but also because she brushed against your g-spot over and over.

Shuri chuckled as she felt your walls clench around her, “Go on,” she encouraged as you squirmed, “Be a good girl and come one last time for me.” The vibrations from her next stroke shot throughout your entire body. Almost like receiving a slight magnetic jolt.

You let out an ear piercing scream that was definitely heard throughout the palace. You have never experienced an orgasm like this before. You came everywhere. All over your thighs, Shuri’s thighs and the bed. You made a mess. The intensity of your orgasm took Shuri by surprise as well, causing her rhythm to falter once she realized that you were squirting.

“Yeyona shit yesondo kakhulu endakha ndayifumana.” Shuri praised as she shoved you down into the mattress with one hand while the other tightened on your waist. Her euphonious moans grew louder as she drove into you wildly, chasing her own orgasm.

Shuri came with a cry, her thighs shook against the backs of yours. You were still trembling as your knees gave out and you sagged against the bed. She pulled out of you and flopped down next to you.

You both breathed shakily, warm bodies completely spent. You mustered all the strength you had left to turn onto your side so you could face her. Of course, she was already on her side, smirking at you.

“So,” Shuri cleared her throat as she scooched closer to you, resting her hand on your waist, “how are you feeling?” You wanted to roll your eyes at the smugness in her voice but that simple action required energy you didn’t have at the moment.

“If you’re ever walking outside and hear a rustling in the bushes, don't worry about it. It’s just me.” You enlightened her as your cunning amber eyes peered into her haughty walnut pupils.

Shuri’s eyes crinkled as she bit her bottom lip to stifle a laugh, shaking her head fondly at you. She thought she was used to your post sex outbursts by now, but every now and then you stumped her.

#my heart can't take this #neither can my coochie #shuri udaku #shuri x black!reader #black panther fanfiction #black panther fandom

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randomwordprompts · 2 years ago

Text

Now see here-

91% Function

Paring: Shuri x Fem!Black Reader

Warnings: 18+ content, dirty talk, praise kink, vibranium strap, lesbian sex

Word count: 2.1k

You missed her terribly.

And you ached for her deep inside.

You tapped a bead on your kimoyo bracelet, admiring your half naked figure in the full-length mirror beside your bed as you waited for Shuri to answer.

“Molo kwintombazana yam entle.” Shuri answered on the third ring.

“Where are you?” You blurted, unwilling to let her cuteness distract you.

“I am about thirty minutes out from the river border.”

“Thirty minutes?! Shuri, you were supposed to be here two hours ago.”

“Ewe, sithandwa sam. Ndiyazi,” Shuri sighed, “I got caught up in a conversation with Agent Ross and lost track of time.”

“Ukuya esihogweni kunye nehempe emhlophe!” You rolled your eyes, flopping dramatically onto the bed.

“Bast, (Y/N)!” Shuri admonished as she failed to contain her snickers.

“Oh, you think it’s funny?”

“Yes, you do get more agitated than usual when I am away for more than a week.”

“Ndiyakudinga.” You whined.

“I need you, too. I apologize for being late. I will make it up to you.”

“How?”

“With Riri’s help I was able to get the apparatus to 91% function. Figured we could test it when I arrive?”

You sat up instantly on the bed, beyond impressed. You two had been throwing around ideas for improving the vibranium strap's versatility for a while now.

“Wow, 91%! So, that means there’s a good chance that—“

“—That you will feel what I feel and I will feel what you feel.”

“Shit.” You cursed, moaning lightly as you rubbed yourself through your yellow lace panties.

“Mhm.”

“Bast, I don’t know which position we should try first.” You breathed, sliding your panties to the side for direct access.

“Well, hands and knees do seem to be your personal favorite.” She added, chuckling lightly.

You spread your legs a little more before dipping a finger inside your slick hole. You could not wait any longer. Three weeks was your limit. You were a touch starved mess.

“Do not start without me, sithandwa.”

“What? I’m not.” You lied.

“I can hear your finger sliding in and out of you, Y/N.”

Damn, you forgot how much stronger her hearing was now. Oh, well.

“You hear how wet I am for you?”

“Yes, I hear it,” Shuri purred, rubbing at her thigh to distract from the pulsation under her pants, “I cannot wait to taste it.”

The sultry inflection of her voice was enough to drive you to slide a second finger in, moaning louder this time. “I can’t wait to feel you inside me.”

Shuri gasped, “I know you did not just add another fing—“

“—Mmm, it feels so good.” You cut her off, whimpering as you felt the edge nearing.

“Take your fingers out, Y/N. Now.”

“Hayi.” You disobeyed.

“No?” The sheer shock in Shuri’s voice would have made you laugh if circumstances were different. She sounded scandalized.

“I’m about to come, Shuri.”

“Do you remember what happened the last time you were being a disobedient brat?”

You did remember which is why you angled your two fingers and thrusted them faster inside you. Shuri had you calling on every god in existence that night. The memory alone had you throbbing.

“You better answer me, Y/N.”

Your climax was approaching and little did Shuri know, she was talking you up and right through it.

“Y/N.” Shuri repeated, growling into her kimoyo beads and that sent you over the edge.

“Prepare to take every inch I give you.” Shuri hissed. You could hear her breaths become harsher. Oooh, she was mad. Good.

The last thing you heard was Shuri swearing and one of the Dora Milaje responding to Shuri's question about their whereabouts.

“We will be home in seven mi—“

“Don’t look at me like that. You brought this on yourself.” She shrugged, looking down at the strap attached to her. She stroked it loosely as it was slick with your wetness.

“Please let me come.” You begged as you sat up on your knees.

“Come to me.” Shuri called over her shoulder.

You crawled to the edge of the bed, stopping beside her. She turned her face toward you, grinning as she saw the desperation in your eyes.

“Ride me until you come.” She gestured for you to straddle her lap and you obeyed, moving with an eager quickness.

“Baby, please touch me.” You huffed, bouncing harder.

“Obviously you no longer need my help to get you there.”

“But I do need you, baby. Please help me come.”

“Tough.” Shuri said, not moving an inch.

You pinched her shoulder in frustration and she just laughed at you, unfazed.

Fine. If she wanted to play like that then so be it.

You shoved two of your fingers in your mouth and sucked on them before bringing them to massage your clit. Your eyes fluttered closed as your threw your head back and moaned loudly.

“Fuck, Shuri. You feel so good inside of me.”

You knew she loved when you were vocal about how she made you feel during sex and would eventually touch you.

“No one could ever fuck me like you do,” you continued, “I love the way you fuck me.”

The cocky grin she was sporting faltered as she let out a deep moan, soon after she rolled her hips up to meet your vigorous bounces.

A climax tore through your stomach as soon as Shuri bent forward to capture your rigid nipple in her mouth, and you threw your head back and whimpered.

You were only given a few spare moments to catch your breath before Shuri picked you up and fucked you against the wall.

“Thank me while I fuck you.” Shuri grunted as her hand came down, smacking your plump ass, making the flesh jiggle from the ample force.

“Aaah! Th—thank you! Thank you!” You whimpered as you rocked back onto her.

“You always take me so well, Y/N.”

You could barely form a word so you just nodded. She knew all too well what her praises did to you.

“If only you listened as well as you took me.”

Shuri kissed your ear and nibbled on your earlobe before whispering, “Are you going to be good from now on and listen?”

“Yes.” You vowed, gasping as Shuri began to rub tight circles around your clit.

“Yes, what?” The deepness of her lust filled voice never failed to send you into a frenzy.

“Yes, Panther. I promise.” You groaned.

“That’s what I like to hear.” She panted.

“Shuri, please,” you pleaded as she rubbed your clit even faster, “I can’t come again.”

Shuri came with a cry, her thighs shook against the backs of yours. You were still trembling as your knees gave out and you sagged against the bed. She pulled out of you and flopped down next to you.

“If you’re ever walking outside and hear a rustling in the bushes, don't worry about it. It’s just me.” You enlightened her as your cunning amber eyes peered into her haughty walnut pupils.

#my heart can't take this #neither can my coochie #shuri udaku #shuri x black!reader #black panther fanfiction #black panther fandom

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