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ā ļø Mature Content: Soft sexual touching / š 18+ ONLY ā Minor DNI
AN: This was our first āsmut but no smutā attempt, and me and my moots @blackgurlnhermoods @zaziesource popcorn-wrote it. Shoutout to the girlies in @blkfichubās comments who tried to guide us through writing smut because we struggled bad. We still didnāt want to do too much, but we tried. Enjoy the chaos.
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Dick Halloran was exhausted down to the bone.
The kind of tired that didnāt just settle in the muscles but climbed into your ribs, lodged behind your heartbeat, sat heavy behind your eyes. Work had been long, the hours cruel, and every single person heād passed on the street had been loud inside his head. That was the cost of the Shine sometimes you controlled it, sometimes it controlled you.
But stepping through the apartment door and seeing her, all that noise melted away.
Evangeline lay curled on the couch in the dim light of their living room, her cheek pressed into the throw pillow. One hand rested over her belly, round and tender, holding their baby like she was keeping the whole world safe underneath that palm. She mustāve meant to wait up for him, but sleep won.
Dickās chest tightened with something soft, heavy, protective.
He quietly placed his keys down, toes nudging off his shoes. Then he approached and crouched beside her, gently brushing the back of his fingers along her arm.
āEva,ā he murmured.
Nothing but a tiny shift, a sleepy huff, her curls brushing across her cheek. She looked so peaceful it almost hurt to wake her.
So he didnāt.
Instead, he slid one arm beneath her legs and one behind her back, lifting her gently slow, slow, careful not to startle her. Pregnancy made her lighter in some ways, heavier in others. She melted instinctively against his chest, face nuzzling into the warm skin of his collarbone.
He carried her to their bedroom and laid her on the bed. She curled onto her side instinctively, her hand moving back to her bump as if she were checking to make sure the baby was still there.
Dick pressed a kiss to her forehead, pulled a blanket over her, and let her drift deeper.
A shower helped peel the day off him. Steam fogged the mirror, hot water beating across his back, loosening every knot the world put there. But when he stepped out toweling off, breathing easier he heard it.
Her voice.
Soft. Barely formed. Half-asleep.
āā¦Dickā¦ā
He froze.
Another breath. A faint whisper.
āDickā¦ babyā¦ā
He didnāt hesitate.
He walked to the bed but she was still asleep, brows drawn the slightest bit, her lips parted like she was trying to call out but couldnāt quite reach him.
She wasnāt awake.
She was pulling him.
With the Shine.
āAll right, sweetheart,ā he murmured, lying down beside her and placing his hand gently over the curve of her belly. āIf youāre callināā¦ Iām cominā.ā
He let his eyes close, let the hum in his chest open, let the world blurā
And then he stepped into her dream.
āø»
He landed in color.
A bright, lush, lived-in sort of color the bedroom wasnāt theirs, not exactly, but some dream version of it. The walls were painted in deep blues and honeyed ambers. The air was hazy with warmth. And on the far side of the room, a record player spun softly.
Sam Cooke.
Bring It On Home To Me.
And in the middle of it allā¦
Evangeline.
She stood in front of a vanity mirror, wrapped in a short silk nightgown the color of rosewater. Her hair was in soft rollers, giving her a halo of glamorous, old Hollywood curls. A cigarette glowed between her fingers, the smoke lazily curling upward.
She was swaying her hips gently, humming to the music, admiring herself in the mirror.
Dick exhaled, because there she was every inch of her glowing, alive, dreamy, perfect.
In the mirror, her eyes suddenly lifted.
They found him instantly.
She turned slowly, lips curling into a teasing smile. One hand rested on her hip. The other tapped out ash into a glass dish.
ā Well wellā, she drawled accent slow and sweet.
ā What you doinā here, Dick Halloran?!ā
He shoved his hands into his pockets, leaning back in the corner chair like heād been there all along.
ā You were callin me,ā he said simply. ā You know how it is, Eva. You call my name, I show up every timeā.
Her hips swayed as she walked toward him, each step pulling his gaze along with her. Dick watched her like he couldnāt help himself, his teeth catching his bottom lip as the space between them slowly disappeared.
Dickās hand lifted, the back of his knuckles brushing her thigh. He slid his palm up slowly slow enough to make her breathe in a sharp little gasp until he rested it against the curve of her nightgown. His thumb grazed the soft fabric, then pressed just a bit firmer as he dragged his hand down the length of it.
She didnāt give him time to think. She just swung one knee over his thigh, then the other, easing herself into his lap with practiced familiarity. His hands went straight to her waist, fingers spreading as though he needed to anchor himself.
āIām glad you did,ā she whispered, leaning in.
Her lips brushed his first soft, sweet, tasting of her favorite candy butterscotch and a hint of cigarette . Dick let out a low sound against her mouth, his hands sliding down from her waist to the curve of her hips. Then lower. He cupped her behind with both hands, pulling her just a little closer, slow and deliberate.
Dicks hands slid back up back up to her sides, following the shape of her body like he had traced it a thousand times. And then just for a second, his touch slowed, almost thoughtful . The familiar swell he always took such care with wasnāt there.
He didnāt pull back. Didnāt stop kissing her.
He just murmured it against her skin, low and almost smiling:
āMmā¦ you aināt carryinā tonight.ā
Evangeline breathed out softly, lips brushing his jaw as she kept kissing him, her fingers curling at the back of his neck.
āNot in here,ā she whispered. āNot right now.ā
Dickās eyes flicked up to hers, warm and wanting, his hands still stroking her waist.
She kissed the corner of his mouth.
āI love carryinā your baby,ā she said quietly, brushing her nose against his. āBut since the bump grew, you barely touch me anymore.ā
His breath hitched, just barely
And this is my dream,ā she murmured, settling deeper onto his lap. āSo I get to be what I want. And tonight?ā
Her lips brushed his again, soft as a secret.
āI donāt wanna be pregnant. And I donāt want you treatinā me like Iām gonna break.ā
He hiked her night gown higher, keeping his eyes on hers, dark and heavy with desire.
āThis what you wanted, baby?ā he murmured, voice thick and velvety, fingers sliding slowly up her thigh, brushing the soft skin beneath the nightgown.
Evangeline tilted her head back slightly, lips parting, and whispered softlyā
ā Not thereā¦. here.ā
She guided his hand with a gentle, deliberate motion, pressing it exactly where she wanted him most between her legs. Her body shifted instinctively, rocking lightly against his fingers, letting him feel the way she moved, how much she wanted him.
Dickās lips grazed the curve of her neck, half-lidded, watching her every twitch and shiver. āGod, babyā¦ you so wet for me,ā he murmured, voice husky, and smooth, low enough that only she could hear the need in it. āAll for me.ā
His lips returned to hers, soft at first, brushing along hers in a way that made warmth coil through her chest. Then he pressed closer, mouth opening against hers with a hunger that was impossible to resist, exploring every inch of her lips. She parted willingly, letting him in, letting him take the lead as her body instinctively leaned into his.
Her hands wrapped around his broad shoulders, pressing into him, feeling the strong steady weight beneath her palms as she pulled him closer. Each shift of her body, each press and tilt, guided their movements naturally, matching the slow, urgent rhythm of his mouth on hers.
Their tongues met, sliding against each other in a soft, searching dance, exploring, tasting, a fluid exchange of heat and desire. Every glide, every brush carried a warmth that radiated through her, making her chest press into his, thighs tightening in response to the closeness between them.
Her hands tightened on his shoulders, nails grazing the fabric of his shirt as she rocked more insistently, leaning into him, letting herself be completely carried by the sensation. Low hums and soft gasps escaped her lips, a language of pleasure without words.
Dick whispered her name into her mouth, deep and rough, voice thick with warmth and need. āMmā¦ thatās it, babyā¦ just like that,ā he murmured, his fingers never slowing, keeping pace with her every motion.
A soft, breathy whimper escaped her lips. āIām closeā¦ā she murmured, voice trembling, barely audible against his mouth. Her eyes rolled back slightly, lashes fluttering, letting him see the depth of the sensation coursing through her.
A shiver ran through her body, heat pooling low in her belly, and just as she was about to let goā
Evangeline gasped, eyes flying open.
Morning sunlight pooled across the sheets. The record player was still. Her nightgown was different. Her body was warm with the after echo of pleasure.
Across the room, Dick sat in the armchair with the morning paper folded neatly in his hands. He looked maddeningly calm. A picture of innocence.
He didnāt glance at her.
āMorning,ā he said, casual as could be, turning a page.
She pushed herself upright, heart still thudding.
āDick.ā
āMm?ā he hummed, eyes on the paper.
āYou were in my dream.ā
āOh?ā he said, not looking up. āThat so?ā
Her eyes narrowed. āDonāt play with me. You were there.ā
He paused.
Lowered the newspaper just enough to show his eyes.
There was a spark in them. A knowing one.
āOh?ā he said slowly. āWhat was I doinā?ā
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
ā Live Streamingā Interactive Chatā Private Showsā HD Qualityā Free Actions
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The unsexy truth is that heād likely find out youāre pregnant before you do. Shooting out of a cold sweat in the middle of night murmuring something about static because he hasnāt the slightest clue why the house feels louder than usual.
This isnāt the 21st century where at-home tests for pregnancy could be picked off shelves, and what reason would you have to visit a doctor if you were always chalking up your sickness to the filthy water Charlotte liked to complain about? Everyone in Derry was always sick from the sewers.
For every time youād hear him murmur about how cute you look as you so slowly filled out, heād give you a good kiss on the foreheadāwhile still trying to ignore the vibrations shaking his rib cage and warming up his lungsāon the way to that strange dig site he never told you about. After all, it was good to see the stress of the eerie cul-de-sac no longer peck at your appetite. The silent watching of quiet but nosey neighbors didnāt mean anything when you swear you could almost start seeing black smog around most civilians in the town who already frightened you.
āRipe pumpkinā. Or just āpumpkinā is what he said your plump cheeks looked like now, especially when you puffed up about the fight you saw on the way to the deli. The new nickname wasnāt funny but it was a good distraction to get you riled up again while he was digging through the thick bedroom air trying to figure out why for the last couple weeks itās felt like there was a current coming from another direction than heās used to.
āAre you even listening?ā You plucked him right back up from the water.
āI-I,ā his vision doubled for just a second. āI might be.ā
Lovely save.
Heād have to explain to Leroy why he would be stopping by to steal some of Charlotteās pancakes the next morning because he āmight beā making breakfast on his own that week.
HEAR YE HEAR YE, CAN ANYONE HEAR ME BECAUSE I DONT THINK ANYONE CAN HEAR ME BECAUSE WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT HOW BEAUTIFUL CHRIS CHALK IS. LIKE WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS I FEEL LIKE IM A TEENAGER AGAIN HE IS UNGODLY GORGEOUS
