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maxwell--lord · 3 years

Text

Intentions

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x m!reader, no use of Y/N

Rating: E (Explicit, 18+ only)

Word Count: 1472

Warnings: Established relationship, Sub!Maxwell, explicit language, oral, orgasm denial, male anal without protection, male fingering, anal, slight choking, public sex, consensual humiliation, smut, soft praises, gagging. If I have missed ANY warnings, please let me know.

A/N: If I have tagged you in this and you do not wish to be tagged in future M/M fics, please reach out and tell me. There are another four WIPS like this, that I am finishing up and I do not want to tag ya’ll in anything that you’re uncomfortable with. Not edited, not beta read, all mistakes are mine alone. Again, comments and reblogs are SO appreciated.

Maxwell sits across from you, his forearm positioned on the table perfectly, letting him lean forward and admire your perfect figure in that charcoal grey Armani suit that he loved so much. This wasn't the first time you've been to this little hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant, in fact, it was one you frequented together since your first date. It felt different this time, especially with the way Maxwell kept eyeing you. It's like the heat of a thousand suns burning your skin, but the lingering after effect could be felt all the way into your briefs.

A smirk curling at the corner of his lips, his teeth bared, jaw lowering to tease his tongue drawing over his incisors with a lustful glint in his eyes. The way the amber hues of the lamp illuminates every feature of his perfectly carved face, pulling you into his world without a single word spoken. Lord, how you felt for this man. It was a mix of love and lust, but burned deep with passion that you couldn't escape, even if you wanted to.

He grabbed the bottle of champagne in the middle of the table, leaning back to top off his beverage, the bubbles clinging to the side of the glass, the way he clung to you on all of those late nights. He knows he's got you right where he wants you, already throbbing in your slacks for him, even if you don't break your brooding stature, Maxwell can feel it in the tension rich air. He takes a sip from his glass, eyes raking up your chest as his grin grows wider on his lips.

"Do you want to fuck me?" He asks with a low-toned, sultry voice as he leans forward, his body beginning to hover slightly over the rounded table, where your shared Osso Buco and Arancini dishes sit. The words tingle through your ears, hair standing on end as your member grows harder against your thigh.

"Of course I want to fuck you. Don't I always want to fuck you?" You retort playfully, unaware of just what ideas swirled around inside of Maxwell's head. You cock your head to the right, letting your eyes drink in the broadness of your lover.

He stands up, slowly walking past you. His large hand smooths up your arm and to your shoulder, he leans down to whisper into your ear, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he tells you to follow him into the bathroom. He straightens, dragging his nails over your shoulder and down your back as he strides off towards the door at the back of the restaurant.

You mull over the idea, pulling your blazer off and leaving it on the back of the chair, before heading off to follow Maxwell, succumbing to his needy desire to feel you buried deep within him. You reach the bathroom door, taking a quick glance over the area, looking for anyone or any staff that may have noticed you going into the bathroom after Maxwell, and catching that he didn't exit. Once you're convinced that it is clear, you push through the door, immediately locking it behind you.

Maxwell is leaned against the old, tan tile wall, thumb slipping into his tie and pulling it free from his neck. "On your knees, Maxwell." You demand, watching the man in front of you drop low, his palm flattening over your hard member, and groping firmly. His other hand immediately pops open the button on your slacks. You step closer, so close that his nose practically presses itself into your waist. "Use your teeth, c'mon pretty boy." You coo, pushing your hips further against Maxwell.

His lips part, tongue slipping beneath the tab of the zipper, pulling it into his mouth, and lowering it. Both of his hands pull your slacks and briefs down. The lack of space between the two of you allows your cock to bounce out, hitting Maxwell in the cheek, he looks up at you with a need to be completely and utterly dominated by you. You bury your hand into his hair, tugging his head backwards, wrapping your hand around your own arousal and tapping it firmly against Maxwell's lips.

His lips part, tongue slipping out of his mouth to tantalize the thick vein, his lips encompassing your head, letting his tongue move against your aroused skin, tasting the precum that's leaking into his warmth. You let go of his hair to give him some more freedom to swallow your cock. Your hips start rocking forward, pushing your arousal further into his mouth until you feel his throat contracting around your length, those pretty little gagging sounds vibrating through your cock, forcing you to bury yourself deeper into his throat before pulling back. Your hand in his hair tugging tightly, as your eyes drop to watch your cock leaving his lips.

The thick trail of saliva stringing from his lip to your cock. You release your hand from his hair. "Get up, take your pants off." You coo with lust dripping off your lips. Max stands up, slowly, undoing his slacks and pushing them to the floor, revealing his white lace underwear and those thigh highs that you bought him for his birthday. You reach out towards him, your hand wrapping tightly around his throat and feeling his Adams apple brush against your palm as he swallows.

"Fuck me, please." Maxwell mewls, his hand palming at himself.

"Turn around, hands on the sink." You demand, pushing him against the sink before letting go of his throat and brushing your thumb over his plump lower lip. Maxwell turns around, his ass and thighs look so good in those garments. You press yourself against Maxwell's ass, a little whimper escapes his lips as you wrap your hand around and dip your index and middle finger into his mouth, and his tongue wraps around them, soaking them in his thick saliva. You pull them from his lips, your other hand pushing his underwear down, before smoothing up his back and forcing him to lean further against the sink.

The hand you've pulled from his lips, moves down to tease those two fingers at his entrance, circling with pressure and slowly entering him, spreading him apart the deeper you move them into his ass. You pull your other hand to your lips, licking up it and then spitting into your hand, beginning to stroke your arousal. You remove your fingers slowly from Maxwell's ass, and he whimpers, shuddering already missing the way your fingers felt inside of him. You grab the base of your cock, and position your head at his hole, pushing firmly against him until you can feel his tight ass stretching around your thickness.

"Fuck, baby, you're so goddamn tight. Feel so fucking good around my cock" You growl, as you thrust deep inside of him. His ass taking every inch of your cock with ease. Maxwell moans, louder than you'd like to hear and you bury your arousal as deep in his ass as you can, your hands gripping around his hips and holding him against you. You continue to fuck deeply into him, pulling almost completely out and slamming back into him with force, pushing against that spongy spot that makes Maxwell cry out for you more. His hips grinding back against you, keeping your head pressing against that spot that threatens to make him release right there.

“No, no, pretty boy. You don’t get to cum tonight.” You coo, thrusting into him again, sweat beading across your brow as the air in the bathroom thickens. The tingling sensation shooting up your spine combined with the tightness in your lower stomach, tells you that your climax is near. You thrust faster into Max, brushing that membrane that makes his entire body shudder and he moans, gripping the porcelain sink tighter, biting back his insatiable need to cum.

His sounds and the way he is clenching around your cock pushes you over the edge. Your orgasm burns through your being, the heat in the pit of your stomach shoots through you and you growl, burying yourself as far into Maxwell as you can, releasing your sticky seed deep inside of him. Your head falls forward, your lips meeting the cool, damp skin on his back, peppering him with kisses. Both of your hands move up his sides, flattening over his chest and pulling his back against your torso, your lips grazing the shell of his ear.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll really take care of you when we get home… Now fix your hair and I’ll see you back at the table.” You coo, pulling your softening cock from Maxwell’s ass and redressing yourself, slipping through the door, and leaving Maxwell panting as he begins to clean himself up.

Permanent Taglist: @diomorissey @inlovewiththetenthdoctor @daredevilstar @goat-monarch @horton-hears-a-honk @hnt-escape @manndo @littlemisspascal

#Maxwell lord x you #maxwell lord x m!reader #maxwell lord x male #maxwell lord x male reader #maxwell lord fanfic #maxwell lord smut #pedro pascal characters #ww84 #wonder woman 1984 #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord ww84

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sacklerscumrag · 3 years

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‘Tis The Damn Season

Request :)

hi my love! I’m taking you up on a request if that’s ok! I know you just wrote Clyde but I love when you write him so if you want to do something with either the “You have no idea how much I want you right now” prompt or “It’s cold, you should take my jacket” prompt that’d be wonderful! (It can be smutty too😉)

@adamdsolo

One of the most beautiful souls I know. This girl ya’ll. Every time I post she’s right there being so fucking amazing and I honestly don’t know if I would still be writing without her unending love and support :) I love you so so much Laur, you and your friendship mean the world to me. I hope you like this little story! <3

↓ ↓ ↓

Clyde Logan X Female Reader

Prompts: “You have no idea how much I want you right now” + “It’s cold, you should take my jacket”

Warnings: vaginal fingering, fluff, semi-public foreplay

Word Count: 934

AO3

Wintry trees decorated in twinkling lights and various clamorous carnival rides adorned the annual Christmas Boone County fair. Though the air bared only the coolness, you remained warm at Clyde's side. Gently nestled into the crook of his arm as he kept you close. It had been almost a year to the date since you met Clyde; having had your first date at this very fair, it seemed only fitting that you would return for your anniversary.

"Have I told ya how beautiful ya look tonight?"

"Only about a hundred time since we left the house."

"Well, then I'll say it again." He tightened his grip on your waist, making you giggle. "It's cold, ya should take my jacket." Clyde stopped and turned to face you.

"I'm fine, baby, I promise." You said. Giving him a reassuring smile and pulling him close to you once again, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. Your whole body tingled at the feeling of his large frame pressed up against yours as he wrapped his arms around your waist and leaned into you. A wave of warmth washed over you once you felt the softness of his lips on yours.

Clyde interlocked his fingers with yours as you continued to make your way through the fair, occasionally taking a moment to bring the back of your hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss here and there. He loved to watch the way your face lit up at every Christmas decoration you passed.

"What do ya wanna do first, darlin?" Clyde asked as he wrapped his arms around you from behind. "Anythin ya want." You took a moment to look around at the bustling crowd surrounding the rides and eagerly took his hand to drag him, knowing precisely what you wanted to do.

"Photobooth? Ya sure?" You made your way up to the photo booth behind all of the snack carts, away from the crowds.

"Oh, please, Clyde! We don't get enough pictures together. Plus, the lines are too long for the rides right now, so we have some time to kill." You gushed, holding his hand with both of yours, your entire hand wrapping around only three of his massive fingers. Clyde saw your pleading eyes looking up at him, making him weak at the knees. How was he ever supposed to say no to you? He finally nodded, opening up the small door to the booth for you to head inside.

Neither of you accounted for Clyde's large frame in the booth, so he made himself comfortable on the seat as you settled on his lap. His metal hand wrapped around your waist while his flesh one rested on your thigh.

It wasn't long before the pictures began; you and Clyde posed for each one. And just before the last photo was taken, you pulled Clyde in for a searing kiss, not pulling away even after the flash went off. You cupped the side of his face, parting your lips as the tender caress of his tongue made you sink deeper into the kiss.

"You have no idea how much I want you right now." Clyde's voice was low, filled with lust. Biting your lip, you looked down at him, a sparkle in your eyes at his seductive tone. "I have an idea." He hummed softly into your lips, tapping your leg so you could swing it over to straddle him. Once you settled back on his lap, for a second, your mouth brushed his, taking his lower lip into your mouth before releasing it with a pop. Your breath hitched when he began to kiss and nip at the overly delicate skin on your neck and shoulders, his hands already working on unbuttoning your jeans as he whispered to you. "Let me take care of you, darlin." The warmth of his breath on your cool skin, sending a shiver through your body.

Your hands tangled in his dark locks when his hands slid into your jeans, past your lace panties, and skimmed over your folds, gathering up the slick. Slowly, he slipped two thick fingers into your cunt, making you groan at the stretch as his thumb rubbed lazy circles around your clit.

You cried out when you felt him plunge a third finger into you without warning. Clyde began to pump his fingers at a faster pace, feeling your cunt pulsate around him, fluttering as he curled his fingers towards that tender spot inside of you. Your clit throbbed, aching for attention as you began to gyrate your hips on him, desperate to feel more.

"Fuck baby, ya look so fucking good fuckin yerself on ma fingers. God, I wanna feel ya cum all over em." Clyde moaned along with you, spurring you on to your own release. His thumb worked your clit as the knot in your core felt like it was going to burst.

"Clyde, I'm going to-I'm about to-" Throwing your head back and arching your back, you sobbed as your vision went dark, your cunt clenching around his fingers, soaking his hand in your release. Clyde wrapped his mechanical arm around you, holding you in place while soothing you, whispering soft praises as your body went limp from the intensity of your orgasm. You lifted your head to lay on his shoulder, still trying to catch your breath as he ran his hand up and down your back.

"We gotta come to this photobooth more often." Clyde hummed softly, making you both chuckle. "Now, let's get ya home. Gotta have ya makin those pretty sounds fer me all night."

#clyde logan #clyde logan x reader #cw: semi-public sex #Clyde Logan smut #Clyde Logan fanfiction

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snarkwrites · 3 years

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firstdate | greg sanders ; csi vegas [mature.]

Notes:

So.. this is kind of an AU take on my current CSI Vegas fic, trouble. You do not have to be reading that to read this though. Tis merely filth I wanted to write, from the standpoint that instead of them being thrown together and having to deal with a crazy ass ex... Sara arranges a blind date for them after they’ve met a time or two and she suspects they’re into each other. It’s kind of set around the earlier seasons too.

Ya’ll.. If anyone would rather read THIS VERSION... I’m highkey tempted to maybe write it at some point. Like... Minus all the crazy shit that’s going on in Trouble. It’d just be their run ins and stuff and then them getting together.. anyway.. I had to have this, so ya’ll must now suffer with.

Prompts:

None. Blind date / sex on a kitchen table could be considered, I suppose.

Warnings:

This content is not meant for minors. If you’re under 18+ this is not for your eyes. I warned you very clearly, right here. If you don’t like smut, you’re not going to want to keep reading.

As far as things you need to be aware of if you’re sticking around: unprotected sex ( why is it always my horny ass muses that never remember protection?) body fluids, dry humping in a movie theater...Pretty much it.

Other Stuff:

[ faq - tag list ]

Tagging:

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@twistnet

BLIND DATE.

“Okay. I’m here.” I took a deep breath, reaching for the handle on the doors that led into the movie theater. Taking a second or two to check myself over in the reflection of the glass as I continued to mutter to myself, “I’m here.. Now to see if this mystery guy shows up.”

Just as I went to step into the lobby and out of the rain, I felt a tap to my shoulder from behind. It was around this same time that my eyes locked on Greg Sanders, standing behind me. Flashing me a grin even though he looked just as nervous as I was.

I felt my cheeks start to burn under his intent gaze.

We’d only spoken a few times, mostly when I popped in to bring my sister food during her shift and on my break from dancing at the club. And those few times had been… Intense. To say the least.

There was definitely underlying tension between us. A heavy pull to him.

I’d never actually told my sister this, of course.

Which was interesting considering Sara was the one who set up this whole blind date for the night.

“Belle, hi.”

“Greg, hey.” my teeth caught on my lip and I turned to face him. He seemed to remember the single red rose in his hand and chuckling quietly, he held it out. I took it, smiling as I passed it under my nose.

He reached around me, his arm brushing right against my side as he pulled the door to the lobby open, letting me step inside. Stepping inside behind me.

,, I owe my sister for this. More importantly, how did she know? Does this mean he’s hinted about being interested in me, I wonder?” my mind was working overtime. My mouth wasn’t quite keeping up with it, because I wanted to ask just to clarify that I’d somehow managed to luck into Greg being my blind date tonight, but the words were stuck in my throat. I mean, logically it had to be him, he’d given me the deep blood red rose I held in my hand.

“So…” I finally managed a word. A weak one, but still a word. Greg chuckled. His eyes roamed over me slowly. Subtly. But not subtle enough that I didn’t know he’d just checked me out. He stepped closer as a crowd of noisy teenagers all decked out as characters from the horror movie I intended to see rushed past. His hands settled on my arms to hold me steady. I stepped closer to him. Flashed a teasing grin.

“Are you sure you’re up for this? I mean it’s a horror marathon.” I asked. Greg smirked, shrugging. The movement called attention to broad shoulders and I stared at him entirely too hard for a few seconds.

Like an absolute moron.

“ I’ll be fine. Are you sure you’re going to be okay though. Sara told me that you like horror movies in theory, not so much in reality.” Greg flashed a teasing smirk of his own. One of us stepped closer. Our bodies brushed right against each other and the end result was this electric jolt shooting through my entire body at lightning speed.

I pretended to pout. Walking my fingers up the front of his faded gray t-shirt. “I guess it’s a good thing I’m not alone tonight then, hm?” I practically purred. “For the record, I’m not that bad.” I gave a soft smirk, nodding to the line that was growing rapidly across the lobby for the movie we’d chosen as I grabbed his hand and started to make my way over to the end of the line.

I smirked a little as my eyes settled on our reflection in the plexiglass surrounding the ticket window and I could see the way he towered over me just slightly from behind. And yeah, maybe I couldn’t resist stepping back into him just a little. Enough so that our bodies kept contact. My smirk only grew as I saw him swallow hard. His hands settled on my hips.

And to anyone around us, we probably looked more like a couple out on a date than two people who barely knew each other on a blind date.

We’d gotten our tickets. Playfully arguing back and forth over the fact that I paid my own way as we drifted into the concessions area and got into line for snacks. I found myself drawn to the guy like a magnet, pressing myself back into him as we stood in line.

Snacks in hand, we started to make our way to the theater showing our movies. My hand found his, my fingers lacing through.

“I don’t really do the blind date thing often.. My sister didn’t like… guilt you into this, did she?” I had to ask just before we stepped into the room cloaked in darkness. Greg chuckled, raising a hand. Dragging it through spiky hair as he smirked down at me. “I was about to ask you if she guilted you into agreeing…”

We shared a laugh and my back hit the wall next to the door softly. Greg’s hand rested palm down against the wall, just beside my head as he gazed down at me. Intently. Like he wanted to say something, but he wasn’t sure how to go about saying it.

And then, finally… he did.

“I would’ve asked you myself, you know.” Greg chuckled quietly. This news had my mouth opening and closing as my brain tried to catch up to what he was essentially saying. I found myself pressing against him a little more. “You would, hm?” escaping my mouth as a quiet purr as he stared down at me and bit his lip, swallowing hard again and nodding.

“Mhm. I was actually going to. The next time you came into the station.”

I licked my lips, tilting my head slightly as I looked up at him. Toying with the front of his shirt as I continued to try and process what he was getting at. Stunned, because I’d never really thought that he felt the magnetism I felt. I’d actually had myself convinced that it was purely one sided. Or that he’d never actually be interested in me.

“I would have said yes.”

This time, he was pressing into me. Harder. I took a shaky breath, my eyes settling on his mouth. And then the flash of something in his eyes. The goofy smirk as his other hand squeezed my hip.

“I didn’t think you liked me.” Greg licked his lips, eyes drifting down to mine, settling on them. The end result was me, taking a few more shaky breaths.

If the lingering tension between us was thick before, it was downright smothering now.

But so was the excitement. And the sense of right. Calm. Like tonight at least, I was exactly where I needed to be.

“Honestly, same.” I answered, both of us sharing a laugh again.

My sister had managed to play both of us. The thought sank in. I made a mental note to really, really, really… Thank her for it later.

A throat clearing behind us had us laughing and disappearing into the darkened theater. We chose a seat in the back row and settled in. His arm slipped around the back of my seat and I leaned against him a little, our eyes meeting.

The theater went even darker and the opening scene of the movie began to play. Almost instantly, as the grainy black and white opening shot of Dr. Wolfenstein’s opening speech began, I dove my head down after a quiet shriek.

As quiet as one gets.

“What the fuck have I gotten myself into?” I wondered in a whisper against his neck, making him laugh. But pull away and look at me. “If you wanna leave, we can…”

“Oh no. No, I’m determined to prove my sister wrong. I can handle this.” I took a deep breath. Greg leaned in, whispering against the shell of my ear, “If it’s too scary..”

The look in his eyes as mine met them gave away clearly what he didn’t say. I nodded, filing away the suggestion. Then the body count started to rise. And what he’d told me came rushing to the front of my mind.

“Fuck fuck fuck. Fuck.”

“Hey Belle.” Greg muttered, making me look up at him. When I did, he gently gripped my jawline, guiding my mouth against his, the taste of soda and m&m’s and popcorn mingling as his tongue trailed over mine, tangling with it and taking total control of the kiss, catching me by surprise just a little bit because honestly, if I’d imagined kissing him, I was usually more of the aggressor.. I wound up turning to the side in my chair slightly, deepening the kiss. Slipping my legs into his lap as his arm settled over them.

That huge group of teenagers had pretty much abandoned ship twenty minutes in just when the movie was starting to get a little too gory because the girl dressed as Baby was full on sobbing and begging to leave.

We basically had the theater to ourselves at this point.

And that heavy tension?

Only getting hotter. Heavier with each second that passed.

It wasn’t long until my legs across his lap wasn’t easy or convenient for either of us. Greg chuckled as a particularly deep and intense kiss broke and we pulled away to breathe a little.

The movie was all but ignored by now.

Merely background noise at this point.

I spotted the weak beam of an usher’s flashlight and devolved into a fit of giggles, muttering against Greg’s neck quietly, “We’ve got an usher. Let me just face the front really quick.. They usually make a round and they’re done. Unless… you like the thrill of almost getting caught in compromising positions...” I flashed a teasing grin, a soft giggle leaving my lips as soon as I saw him turn just a shade red beneath the dim lighting.

I straightened myself in my seat and took a few long and shaky deep breaths to attempt even beginning to calm myself down.

That damage was done already. I was… beyond wet. A dripping mess at this point. Everything just felt so much more intense. Intimate. The way his hands felt all over me. The way it felt to kiss him to the point where we were both dizzy and needed to breathe but also, didn’t want the kiss to end.

“Do I want to know what that meant?” Greg chuckled. A teasing grin as we found ourselves staring at each other again. Still trying to catch our breath from the deep and heavy kiss ended abruptly just seconds before.

I raised a brow. “What? Like you never purposely chose a boring movie and the back row of the theater in high school? Half the fun is in only just barely managing not to get caught...” I trailed off and gaped at Greg in disbelief when I could tell by the look on his face that he had no idea what I was talking about.

And there I went, falling just a little more.

“I,uh.. It wasn’t ever really a big issue, no.” Greg laughed quietly, shaking his head. “ To be fair, I wasn’t ever Mr. Popular, either.”

I giggled, raising my hand to my mouth to stop the sound. “No. Noooo.” but the whole admission was so sweet the attraction I had to him before grew even more.

“You’re not serious.” I asked in a whisper as the usher finally made their way past us and out of the theater again.

He leaned down in his chair a little, leaning into me. Muttering against the shell of my ear, “I am, actually.” as he gave me almost a sheepish look.

“Jesus. Were girls at your school fucking blind or…?” I questioned, locking eyes with him all over again. The way his cheeks turned just a shade red beneath the dim overhead lighting only turned me on more than it should have. I glanced around the theater and then at the door behind us.

Spotting absolutely no one, I smirked. Greg eyed me, a brow raised as I slipped out of my chair and into his lap, facing him. Leaning down, catching hold of his jaw, tilting his face upward as I leaned mine in closer. Muttering against his mouth, “We have to change that. Like.. that’s an epic wrong that has to be righted, sir.”

Greg shifted in his seat and his legs spread slightly to give himself a little more room and to catch me if I started to slip off his lap, I guess. When he did this, I could feel him starting to strain against his jeans and I rocked myself right over it, burying my mouth in his even deeper to stop myself from moaning too loudly.

“Okay, so how does this work exactly?” he mumbled in a hushed and husky whisper against my mouth as his tongue swept past my lips, finding mine all over again. Gazing up at me. One of his hands going to my ass, squeezing. His other hand skimming up and down my side. I nearly whimpered again when he used the grip on my hip to rock me over the way he strained at his jeans harder. Pressing me down into him, sending a dull throb through my dripping sex.

My teeth latched onto his bottom lip, sucking. I rocked myself against him, baring down against his lap harder but it wasn’t enough. “It would’ve worked better if I’d worn a dress but trust me.. You know exactly what you’re doing.” I muttered as the soft smacks of our mouths meeting over and over again shattered the silence around us.

“Not really. Not when it comes to this...” he insisted. His fingers dug into my ass and his other hand tangled in my hair. He bucked himself against me when he shifted around in the seat a little. I gasped, my fingers digging into his shoulder, rocking against him just a little more. Hoping to ease the dull throb I was really starting to feel.

We pulled away to breathe again and I leaned against him, muttering against his ear, “For a guy who says he hasn’t made out in the back row of a theater before, you definitely know how to make a girl wet.” as I tried to collect myself. Tried and failed.

My words seemed to make him snap. He was shifting me around in his lap so that I pressed against the bulge strained hard against his jeans. The hand in my hair drifted down, disappearing between us. Settling flat against my throbbing cunt. Massaging clumsily because we had limited space to work with.

Our mouths met all over again with a ferocity that had me blown away. In awe. I’d always kind of considered that Greg was handsome. Quiet. Sweet.

I’d never really… Imagined he possessed the side he was showing me right now. Somehow, I got the feeling I was one of very few people -possibly the only one but i didn’t dare hope, who might have ever even seen this side of him and that thought turned me on even more.

“How wet, exactly?” Greg questioned, his gaze meeting mine. By now, any thoughts I’d previously entertained about actually watching the movies I’d paid to see was… A fleeting and distant memory.

I wanted him.

Hands and mouth all over me. Tearing my clothes off. Buried inside me.

“Fuck.” I writhed around in his lap. Desperate for more friction. Anything to ease the steady throb. The divine torment that was his hands all over my body. I reached down, grabbing hold of his hand. Guiding it back against my aching sex. He took a ragged breath when he felt the way I was just starting to soak through skin tight black jeans. Our faces bumped at one point, making us pull away to laugh. Getting lost in each other’s eyes all over again.

“Ya know, we’re not really watching this…” I mused, trailing my tongue gently over the outline of his mouth. Smirking when I felt him shiver and heard him mutter a barely audible “Fuck” under his breath as he gripped me harder and took a few shaky breaths.

“We’re not.” Greg agreed, a distracted hum as his hands roamed all over me. One disappeared beneath my shirt and I barely managed to bury my mouth against his fast enough to stifle the moan that got swallowed by the kiss when I felt his hand cup my breast, squeezing.

“We could leave.” I muttered as my lips ghosted down the side of his neck and I rocked and rubbed against the way he strained at his jeans all over again. Urgently.

The suggestion had him standing. Not bothering to untangle me from his body. My legs circled his waist, squeezing as he carried me out the door and then out a side exit of the theater since it was well past closing hours by this point.

The entire trip across the parking lot had us kissing, the kiss only breaking once we’d reached my car and I had to dig around in my pockets for my keys. Finding them in my jacket pocket, I slipped them into his hand after unlocking the car. Greg opened the passenger door, setting me down in the passenger seat. I pulled him down, his mouth meeting mine all over again. His hand settling between my thighs. Growling into the kiss as he rubbed my aching core.

“Greg, get me out of here.” I moaned against his neck as I rocked against the palm of his hand. He shivered slightly as my mouth dragged over the area, latching on lazily. Breaking the kiss to pull away and lock eyes with me.

“Your apartment or mine?”

“Honestly, whichever one is closer?” I pleaded, beyond desperate to be alone with him. He nodded, stepping away, shutting the passenger door to my car. I buckled my seatbelt, letting out a whimper to myself in the silence of my car as I watched him sprint around the front of it to get into the driver seat.

Once he was inside I was doing my best to lean across the console, our mouths meeting in another frenzied and deep kiss. My mouth strayed, roaming down the side of his neck, leaving another small mark behind. He groaned, tilting my chin. Making me look up at him. Giving me a teasing smirk as he asked in awe, “What am I gonna do with you, hm?”

“Whatever you want.” I answered, licking my lips as I held his gaze. His smirk only grew as he muttered thoughtfully, “Whatever I want is a pretty broad answer.”

“I meant it too.” I whispered softly as my mouth danced down the side of his neck all over again, making him shiver once more.

“I didn’t even know my neck was a hot spot.” he chuckled as he started to pull out of the parking lot.

By the time we were parking outside of my apartment, I couldn’t take another second. He killed the engine and I unbuckled my seatbelt, slipping over the console and into his lap. Reaching down beside the seat to let it back a little bit further.

He grabbed hold of my hips, rocking me against him as he pulled me closer. Bucking up into me from below as the tips of his fingers dug into my lower back and my ass. His mouth capturing mine in a frenzied kiss that he took complete control of, surprising me all over again. He leaned into me, putting my back right against the wheel of my car, making us both laugh when I accidentally pressed right against the horn and the noise shattered the softer sounds of our kissing and we wound up jumping apart.

Taking deep breaths. Trying to get ourselves under control even though we both knew it was a little too late for that.

His hand caressed my cheek as we leaned against each other heavily. My hand trailed over his chest, settling palm down against it. Fingers curling in the fabric of his button up. Itching to grasp and tug and send buttons scattering as I tore his clothes off.

Everything was so very intense. Vivid.

And yet, soft. Gentle. Intimate.

“Okay, if we don’t move this inside, my nosy neighbor is going to get an eye full.” I half muttered, ghosting my lips against Greg’s mouth. Making him grip me tighter. Nodding. He got out of the driver seat, sprinting around the front of the car. Throwing open the door on my side and leaning in, scooping me up as if I were light as a feather.

Oh, I had no doubt he was stronger than he made himself seem, but something about the way he did it and the little chuckle and smirk on his face as he did so had me soaked through in seconds.

My back met my front door with a soft smack and Greg was pressing into me heavily as he tried to be smooth and put the key in the lock without breaking our kissing and touching. Drawing a needy whine and a pout from me when he had to stop. Unlock the door.

He stepped inside my apartment, taking a minute to close and lock the front door behind him. Stepping over to the kitchen table, sitting me on top of it. My hands settled on his shirt and I tugged it apart, sending buttons to spray and settle on the flooring. He gripped the bottom of my shirt, pulling it up over my head, tossing it out into the room behind him.

With a quiet rip, my bra settled on the floor near my shirt and his shirt. My hand slipped down between us, fumbling with the button and then the zipper of his jeans as he started to work my jeans and panties down my legs. I let my heels settle on the floor with a quiet thud and kicked my jeans and panties free at the ankle and Greg grumbled about having to break the deepening frenzy of kisses to step away and pull off his shoes. He kicked his jeans and boxers free and stepped back into me.

My legs circled his waist, squeezing against. My arms wrapped around his neck and I gasped softly as our bodies molded together. The contrast, the way he felt pressed against me. Skin against skin. It was enough to take my breath away. His hands skimmed my sides, settling on my thighs. Squeezing as he slipped me forward on the table even more. Burying his mouth in mine all over again with a quiet growl.

Teeth scraping against my bruised and swollen lips as his tongue separated them. Sinking his cock into me carefully. Slowly. Going still to let me adjust. His mouth latching onto my neck as he left the first of quite a few sizable marks behind on my skin. His grip on my hips tightening as he pumped in and out of me, a little faster. Slowing down when he felt me starting to shake a little and melt into him.

Tilting my chin as he mumbled softly, “This is not how I saw tonight going.”

“Me either.” I gasped, gripping his jaw, pulling his mouth against mine as my legs clenched his sides and my heels dug into his ass, driving his cock into me even deeper, making him strike directly against my spot. Sending a shiver racing through me that had him smirking against my mouth. Slamming into me all over again as he questioned, “You liked that, hm?”

“Yes.” I moaned out, my head falling back as my eyes fluttered open and shut and I tried to fight off a fast approaching orgasm.

Greg slowed to a stop, his hands and mouth all over me. Touching and kissing every patch of skin he could get his hands and mouth on. Locking eyes with me as he mumbled quietly, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“Have you seen a mirror, sir?” I purred as my mouth crashed against his and I tried to rock my hips to meet his deep drives, eager to get off. His hands squeezed my hips, bringing my movements to a halt as the kiss broke and we pulled away to breathe. He leaned down, his forehead settling against mine as he caressed my face. “Not yet.”

I pouted, pleading. “Please?” I gasped out as he started to fuck into me all over again. Slower. More deliberately.

His grip on my body almost bruising and yet still somehow gentle. Careful.

“I’m not made of glass baby. Harder. Please?” I begged breathlessly. He slammed into me harder. Deeper. Groaning against my skin, “You feel so good. So good.”

“Greg!” my cry pierced the air as he muttered against my mouth, “Fuck… Belle. Baby, let go.” and he didn’t have to tell me a second time because as his hips snapped against me frantically and he buried even deeper inside, I went smashing over the edge, my orgasm ripping through me, making me cling to him and try to come down from the high, clenching his cock, flooding it. Which sent him straight into his own orgasm, throbbing and filling me up. Pulling away to stare at me before burying his mouth in mine until the kiss was so deep we were both dizzy.

“You don’t have to leave tonight…” I asked hopefully. He chuckled and shook his head. “No. Do you want me to stay, Belle?”

“Very much so.” I melted against him, giving a sleepy smile as I went in for another kiss....

#greg sanders fanfiction #greg sanders one shot #greg sanders imagine #greg sanders fanfic #greg sanders oneshot #greg sanders imagines #my writing ; greg sanders #my fanfics ; greg sanders #my one shots ; greg sanders #my fics ; greg sanders #my fanfiction ; greg sanders #// absolutely no one under 18+. this is not for minors #// tw unprotected s*x #// tw body fluids #// tw dry humping

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newcaptainofsquad9 · 4 years

Text

I’m Your One and Only, Right?~Sub! Park Jimin x fem! reader

Pairing: Jimin x reader

Summary: Jimin acts clingy and a bit jealous during your time out with a friend, forcing you both to go, leaving you a little angry at Jimin’s actions. However, once you return home, you couldn’t stay mad at your boyfriend, at least until he started to beg.

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Romance, Angst

Word Count: 2, 235

Warnings: Smut, don’t read unless you’re 18 and above. Sub Jimin and some of the kinks that come with it. Author’s Note: More Jimin, yes I know I need to do other members to and they will get done soon. I ya’ll enjoy these sub fics because I would like to write more.

I should have known Jimin was being petty the moment we walked into the Whailen Arcade with Baekhyun, all in a fit of mega watt smiles and giggles. Excluding Jimin, who gives Baekhyun a tiny twitch of the lips before pointing at a skee ball machine.

“Y/N!” he shouts, “bet I could score a hundred points easily.”

His plump cheeks raise up in that cutsy smile, making my heart skip a beat. I open my hand for him, he takes it, squeezing it rather hard. Hard enough for me to gasp. Jimin’s eyes soften as he lessens his grip.

“S-sorry jagi,” he whispers.

“That hurt a little Jimin.”

“I-I didn’t mean to,” he whines, “I just thought-”

“Y/N! I forget this place had Tekken!” Baekhyun bellows from across the arcade, “I can totally beat you in a first to five!”

I shake my head and scoff.

“Oh you’re on!” I say.

“But, skee ball,” Jimin says, while rubbing a soothing had down my arm.

His voice is low and laced with sweetness; a deadly combination with his thick lips in a pout and downcast eyes. I wrap my arms around his waist, lean in and rest my forehead against his, meeting his intense, yet intimidating stare. A stare he usually saves for the intimate bedroom moments. An unwanted shiver crawls up my spine as Jimin’s hands find the tender spots on my sides.

“A-Are you all rig-”

Jimin ceases my words with a kiss; a tender one that forces my heart to hammer and rattle at my rib cage. I kiss back for a moment, a small peck with a hand on his chest to nudge him back, yet Jimin doesn’t move. My eyes open to see his closed, nose scrunched up in concentration. I apply more pressure onto his chest, finally making him move. What the hell is his problem?

“Jimin, what. The fuck,” I say, “we’re in public.”

Jimin bites his lip, eyes sweeping from across the room then back to me.

“I know jagiya, I-I just really want you to play skee ball with me,” he groans.

I raise an eyebrow.

“And a makeout was your way of asking?” I say, “children come to this arcade too Jimin.”

His eyes soften, his mouth opens then closes as Baekhyun walks up to us.

“Are you still down for some Tekken Y/N?” Baekhyun asks, “or was I interrupting a couple thing?”

I turn to him and shake my head.

“No, let’s get some matches in,” I say, “that all right with you, Jimin?”

Jimin narrows his eyes at Baekhyun, but nods anyway.

“I guess we can skee ball after,” Jimin grumbles.

...

After doesn’t come, I’m too engrossed in the clock running out on Baekhyun and I’s match. We’re tied 2-2, I’m up two rounds and both of our characters are down to their last few pixels of health. Baekhyun’s character, King rushes in for an elbow, luckily I’m able to side step, to deliver a high kick. I miss and tap my thumb back against the joystick, forcing my character, Nina back a few paces. It’s my chance to rush in this time, however I freeze as Jimin wraps his arms around my waist, lips brushing against my ear.

“Y/N,” he whispers, “I wanna play skee ball, please?”

His kisses the area below my ear, leaving me still as Baekhyun jabs my character.

“Woo hoo!” he cheers, “caught you slipping and won! What a comeback!”

The feeling in my hands manage to return, along with the anger that overwhelms and flushes my skin. I turn around in Jimin’s arms, witnessing his blank stare transform as his brown pupils grow large at my heated expression.

“Jagi-”

“Don’t you fucking Jagiya me,” I growl, “you made me lose!”

Jimin scoffs, making my blood boil even more.

“Y/N I-I-”

He pauses as his lips curling into a frown when his hand comes up to touch my arm.

“Don’t! I don’t wanna play skee ball anymore!” I declare, “I’m going home!”

Baekhyun frowns.

“Ah, dude,” he groans, “why’d you ruin the fun Park?”

Jimin grits his teeth at Baekhyun with chest puffed out along with his cheeks.

“Me? You were the one who-”

Jimin’s mouth closes once I grip his arm tightly and pull him back from Baekhyun.

“I’m sorry for him, Baekhyun,” I say, “it was a fun time while it lasted.”

Baekhyun only blinks, nods sharply and waves.

...

“Jagiya, jagiya, Y/N,” Jimin urges, “please talk to me!”

I continue to ignore Jimin as I push through the threshold of our shared apartment, drop the keys into the tiny bowl on the coffee table and slump down onto the cream colored sofa. Jimin slides right down beside me, suffocating me with his clingy essence.

“Y/N, could you look at me?”

I groan and push against his chest.

“Space Jimin, please?”

Jimin whines, but does what he’s told as he scoots over, leaving plenty of room between us.

“Can I hold your hand?” he asks.

I roll my eyes and place my hand down in the middle of the space, allowing him to intertwine our hands.

“Y/N, are you a-all right?”

I scoff at his question. Do I fucking look all right? Could not pick up the fact that I was having fun and his clingy ass ruined it?

“Y/N-”

“No, Jimin!” I shout, “I’m not all right! you made me lose the game and fucked up my time with Baekhyun!”

Jimin scowls as his eyes furrow in an intimidating manner.

“What else would you have done with him if I wasn’t there?” he ponders.

“What the fuck are you suggesting Jimin?”

He hesitates, mouth opening and closing as he slides back over, pressing himself against me. God, I don’t have time. I rise and he predictably follows. My skin flares again as a flood of tears build up. I can’t believe he’d even fathom the thought of me cheating.

“Y/N I didn’t mean it!”

“Then what did you mean Jimin? Do you really think I’d do that to you? Are you insane?”

Jimin pushes the coffee table back with his foot prior to getting down to his knees while never breaking his grip on my wrist. I try to step away, yet his other hand flies up to my knee.

“Jimin-”

“You’re right!” he gasps, “I am insane! For you, Y/N, I love you so much. I-”

He pauses again as my lip quivers and the tears flow down my cheeks. Jimin’s up in an instant, hands cupping my cheeks as his thumbs wipe away the tears.

“Don’t cry Jagiya, I didn’t mean it,” he whispers.

“But you still did it Jimin,” I say, “maybe I just need some time away.”

Jimin pouts, his arms wrap around my waist as he leans into me. His chest and forehead press against me. This time I don’t move, feeling him this close soothes me.

“Please, I know I’ve been a jerk today.”

“No,” I say, “more like an asshole.”

Jimin giggles, his breath hitting my ear as his lips ghost across my neck.

“I know,” he whines, “can I make it up to you?”

I nod as I lace my fingers through his black locks, eliciting a low groan from him.

“Of course you will, you’ve been so bratty all day,” I snap, “you were jealous, weren’t you?”

Jimin shuts his eyes as my grip tightens on his hair, not a word coming from his mouth, forcing me to panic.

“Jimin, this isn’t too much, is it?” I ponder.

His eyes pop open, brown pupils shrouded in lust.

“No, it just feels so good mommy,” he moans.

My body jolts at his sudden switch into the pet name. Jimin usually uses the mommy card when he wants to submit fully. This time however, I don’t want to be nurturing, I’ve got something better in mind.

“No mommy today baby boy,” I say, “try again.”

Jimin gulps and drops back to his knees.

“Mistress?”

I don’t even get a chance to nod as Jimin’s fingers scramble on the button and zipper of my jeans, forcing my breath away.

“Jimin-”

“I’ll make you feel good mistress, please-”

“No,” I command, “bad boys don’t get to touch, on the couch.”

Jimin freezes, but don’t move, keeping his lips between his teeth while aiming those saddening eyes. Maybe it would have worked if he wasn’t a brat earlier.

“On the couch baby,” I say.

Jimin hops up before I could repeat. My eyes follow the tent growing in his black jeans as he plops down on the couch. I follow slowly, taking my sweet time to hover over him then straddle him. He growls, it comes deep from his throat once I sit directly on his growing problem, eyes shut as his head lulls back.

“Jimin, sweetie, eyes on me.”

Jimin tilts his head and squirms as bounce up and down on his lap.

“God, mo-mistress don’t tease,” he moans.

I tilt my head in faux confusion as my hand wonders down his toned chest before stopping at his belt.

“It’s not teasing when you brought this upon yourself sweetie.”

I gasp at how hard he feels under me.

“J-Just punish me already!” he cries, “I just want to feel you! Please!”

I slide from his lap and down to the floor to make quick work of his belt, tossing it aside to roll his zipper down. His bulge is more prominent in his boxers, I gently palm at it as I bring the boxers down to Jimin’s ankles along with his jeans. His member pops up, it already hard upright and leaking with pre cum.

“So hard for me already baby,” I say, “I’ve barely touched you yet.”

Jimin stifled a moan as I tapped my fingers against his hard cock.

“Hmm, no. Bad boys don’t get to be silent,” I say, “open your mouth, let me hear you.”

“Ah! Y-Y/N, mmm,” he groans as I slide my fingers around him then pump slowly.

“Huh? I didn’t quite catch that.”

“Y/N I’m-”

He cuts himself off with a high pitched moan as I speed up, jerking him at a steady pace. The way his eyes roll prior to shutting lights a fire within me, forcing me to close my legs at how wet I’ve gotten.

“Jimin, tell me,” I say, “tell me what you were going to say and I’ll go as fast as you like.”

Jimin squirms, his hands clutching onto the soft fabric of the couch for dear life.

“Oh God!” he shouts, “I-I’m sorry, Y/N.”

There it is, exactly what I wanted to hear. I slow my movements just a bit, licking my lips as Jimin bucks into my hand.

“Continue,” I say.

Jimin blinks. A gleam of sweat slicks down his forehead as he breathes through his mouth. Tears build in his eyes, making my heart sink.

“Jimin, baby, talk to me, are you all right?”

“Yes, mistress,” he says, “I-I ah, I’m sorry, for today- I just get so worried. I felt like-”

“Like what Jimin?” I ask.

He whines as I let go of his member, stand and sit beside him. His eyes shift over to me expectantly.

“Come here, you can touch me,” I whisper, “you don’t have to call me mistress.”

Jimin scoots over, wrapping his arms around me as his dick presses against my thigh.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

“Over course you can.”

Our lips meet, Jimin hitting me with so much passion that I fall against the couch. His hands travel down to my shirt, reaching down to squeeze my breasts, making me gasp against his mouth.

“I want you so bad, Y/N,” he says, “can I be inside you?”

As soon as I nod, Jimin’s clawing at my jeans, dragging them down along with my panties. A sigh escapes me as the air hits me, along Jimin’s intense stare. The tears in his eyes still linger as he pushes himself against my warm center. We both moan as he enters fully, his arms clutch onto my sides while I cling onto his shirt.

“Jimin, tell me what you’re thinking baby,” I breathe, “please, I- ah!”

Jimin pulls out then slowly thrusts back in, sighing against my neck while he steadily moves.

“I-I’m your one and only, right? Y/N?” he whispers.

I nod through half lidded eyes as his thrusts continue to build until his hips knead into my own at a quick pace.

“Ah! Fuck yes! Jimin, you’re my one and only, do you understand?”

Jimin grunts as his thrusts start to slow.

“You’re squeezing me so tight,” he groans, “I’m so close, is it ok if I?”

I nod.

“Go ahead, I want to feel all of you.”

Jimin gives me a few more powerful thrusts before spilling himself inside, groans against my neck as he trembles. I hit my high as well, my feet clenching hard as my chest heaves along with his.

“Jimin-”

He cuts me off with a deep kiss, pulling out as he does so.

“Are you sure you forgive me?” he asks.

I get lost in his deep, brown pupils before answering.

“Yes, now could you please?”

I gesture to his mess down my legs and he brightens.

“Oh! Of course! I’ll be right back, don’t go anywhere!”

I roll my eyes as he kisses my forehead and bolts up stairs.

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searchingwardrobes · 4 years

Text

The Early Leaf’s a Flower: 8/11

I’m so excited to share this chapter with you! The wardrobe will finally work its magic again! But . . . well . . . we do have three more chapters to go . . . For those of you who read the original, this contains a pivotal scene from that version, though with some changes. Changes I feel make it even better. I hope ya’ll think so too!

Much thanks as always to the mods of the csrt event at @captainswanbigbang. Also thanks to @optomisticgirl and @shippingtheswann for their beta skills. I especially needed both your help with the battle scene in this, for which I am immensely grateful!

Summary: She saw eyes that were the blue of the forget me not peering at her through the cracked door of the wardrobe. He saw hair as gold as the buttercups. Why does the wardrobe keep bringing them back to one another, if fate keeps tearing them apart? Or maybe fate has her reasons …

Rating: M for eventual sexy times, violence, canonical character death, and attempted rape

Trigger warnings: vague references to child abuse (physical and sexual), violence, and positive Millian

Words: About 4k in this chapter

** Complete and updated every Monday** Also on Ao3

Emma: Age 23

Jackie is in her seventies, or at least looks like she’s in her seventies, and her house is at least a hundred years old. But those are the only two similarities either the woman or the house share with Emma’s beloved Martha. Where Martha’s house was old and a little worse for wear, it was still well loved and kept clean and tidy. Jackie’s house is only a few steps above being condemned, and as for cleanliness, well, Emma almost chokes on the stench. But after weeks on the road in her bug, it’s all Emma can afford.

Jackie isn’t in much better shape than her house, her face drawn and scowling, and a cigarette dangling from her mouth. Where Martha had been soft and gentle, Jackie is all sharp lines and harsh edges. Her voice is rough as sandpaper, her words like vinegar. There definitely is no little box of Bible verses in this woman’s kitchen.

The room Emma is renting is in slightly better shape than the rest of the house; the previous renter had at least known what Pine-Sol was. It’s about as small as her room at Martha’s when she was ten, yet it does have a tiny bathroom attached and the fireplace actually works. In one corner is crammed a miniscule table and chair, and in the other –

Is a wardrobe.

Emma drops her duffel on the scuffed hardwood as her jaw almost comes unhinged. There’s no mistaking it this time: It’s the same one she had in her room at ten and sixteen. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. Seriously? She berates herself, not for the first time, for her decision to come back to Maine, even if Florida had been a massive mistake. After saving up all that money at Granny’s, she foolishly wasted two years in Tallahassee. She still kicks herself for thinking Neal would actually find her. What did she think this was? A rom-com? It isn’t. Her life is no Hallmark movie, no fairy tale. She glances at the wardrobe.

Even if a dashing slave/cabin boy had come to her through an enchanted wardrobe.

She sighs and pauses before unzipping her duffel, then decides to just slide the bag under the bed. It isn’t quite as large or ornate as her bed at Martha’s, but it’s still a four-poster with ample room underneath.

She purposely ignores the wardrobe the rest of the evening, refusing to give it even a glance as she cooks up a supper of ramen noodles with her hot plate. She stares at the noodles in her bowl, the desire to look over in the opposite corner stronger than she would care to admit. Why did she even come back to Maine? Oh right, because there are people in a town called Storybrooke who said she could come back if Tallahassee didn’t work out. Too bad she needs to earn more money before she can get the rest of the way there. And in the meantime, this wardrobe is mocking her.

She stays in the shower longer than necessary, despite the layers of scum on the avocado colored subway tiles. She comes out in nothing but a towel, grasping it tight with one hand as she fishes in her duffel with the other. Normally, alone in her room, she’d just walk around naked. But she can’t help remembering those blue eyes she saw watching her as a girl. She chuckles wryly at herself and ceases searching her bag. She stands up straight, pushing her wet hair from her eyes, and drills her gaze into the wardrobe. With a huff she stomps over and flings the door open.

A handful of empty wire hangers swing and clang together from the post inside. That’s it. Empty. Emma laughs at herself as she shuts the door. She lets her towel drop to the floor as she returns to her duffel. With two hands, she finds her pajama pants and tank top quickly and slips into them. She’s just crawled into bed and is reaching over to flip off the bedside lamp when she hears a squeak. She pauses, her hand hovering in midair between the bed and the lamp. She turns her head slowly towards the wardrobe.

The door suddenly swings open.

“Emma? I’ve tried this wardrobe a hundred times . . . ”

Her mouth falls open at the sight of the person on the other side. She eases slowly from the bed in shock and steps closer.

“Killian?” she questions softly, wrapping her arms around the post of the four-poster bed. The same blue eyes as always stare back at her, but he has changed so much. Those eyes are now rimmed with dark kohl, and his face has a hardened edge that is brand new. His hair is the same dark shade, but instead of the shoulder length and the boyish lock of hair falling in his eyes, it is now a bit shorter and messy in a dangerous sort of way. Instead of a nightshirt, he wears tight, black leather pants and a long black leather coat over a black shirt and red vest. The buttons of his shirt are undone almost to his navel, revealing thick, dark hair on a hardened, muscular chest. The naïve, hopeful boy she had known has obviously grown into a world-weary man.

And then there’s the hook. A large, shiny steel hook where his left hand used to be.

The harshness of his face softens as he takes in the sight of her, and when he speaks, the roguish smile he gives her and the cocky arch of his brow seem slightly forced. Like a long-practiced act he’s performing for the first time in her presence.

“Actually, love, people have taken to calling me by my more colorful moniker: Hook.” His face falls even as he brandishes the intimidating appendage. “I didn’t think I would ever see you again, lass. It’s been so long.”

Emma shrugs, the corner of her mouth hitching up. “Only seven years. Give or take.”

“Yet so much has happened since then,” he tells her in a voice heavy with almost unbearable sadness.

“For me too,” she admits in barely more than a whisper.

They search one another’s eyes for a silent heartbeat. “I hate to hear that, love,” he finally says, “though I hope the terrors here are less frightening than those in Neverland.”

Emma’s mind reels. He’s been in Neverland. He’s dressed like a pirate. He has a hook. When she speaks, it’s almost hesitant. “You mean . . . you’re Captain Hook?”

His eyes light up and a look of pride fills his face. His voice is full of bravado when he speaks. “Ah, so you’ve heard of me.”

Emma suppresses a laugh. “Well, there’s a book. And movie. Several movies, actually.”

He cocks his head for a moment as he searches her face, a look of slight confusion upon his own. Then some sort of realization seems to wash over him, and he deflates his posturing. “The portrayal was far from flattering, I see. I – I’ll leave you.”

“Wait!” Emma cries out even as he turns to go. Without thinking, she reaches out and grabs his hook to stop him. When he turns, he looks in surprise at where her fingers curve around the steel. So he’s . . . Captain Hook. Is that so much harder to believe than having a friend that walks through an enchanted wardrobe? She smiles up at him. “Stay.”

He seems almost transfixed as she pulls him out of the wardrobe and towards the bed. She sits and gently tugs him down with her, her hand still clutching his hook. It doesn’t scare her, didn’t for one second. And it’s hard to explain, but holding it seems . . . right. Comforting, even. She sets it in her lap and squeezes it as she gazes into his face.

“Tell me what’s happened since I saw you last,” she encourages, as she would to a long lost friend. Because that’s what he is. The only one she has or has ever had, come to think of it.

He clears his throat, still staring at his hook in her lap. “I’m afraid there’s an awful lot to tell.” The slightly embarrassed chuckle and ear scratch that he gives her reveals the boy still inside him.

Emma shifts closer, “Just the highlights, then. It’s not like I have anything important to do.”

So he begins to talk. The accented voice she has always loved rolls over her like a warm embrace, but the story breaks her heart. He tells her about losing his brother Liam and why he became a pirate. His voice breaks as he describes the elder Jones dying in his arms, and Emma tugs his arm up and over her shoulder. A tear tracks down his cheek as he tells her about Milah, about watching Pan crush her heart and being helpless to stop it. He turns his face away as he speaks of the choices he has made, many of them dark, in his pursuit of revenge against Pan. Emma leans closer and rests her head on his shoulder to let him know it doesn’t change anything.

“I’ve been talking on and on about nothing but myself,” he tells her, his lips brushing against the crown of her head. “That’s bad form, love. What about your life? Less tragic than mine, I hope.”

Emma lifts her head to look into his eyes, so intensely blue as they study her. “I’ve had my own share of tragedy.” She lets out a shaky breath and then tells him about Neal and jail, and then . . . she speaks for the first time about the baby she gave away. Confesses for the first time out loud about how giving him up tore her heart in two.

Killian holds her tighter as the tears break free. She turns in his embrace, fisting her hands in his shirt and sobbing into his shoulder. When her tears are spent, there is a dark, wet spot on his shirt. She laughs sardonically as she wipes at it.

“Look what I’ve done to your shirt.”

“Tis nothing, love.”

Emma suddenly realizes that both her hands are splayed against his chest, and she can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm. She lifts her head and sees his face so close to hers. Her eyes flicker from his bright eyes to his lips, and her thoughts tumble backwards in time to their first kiss when his lips were so soft and welcoming, and how the feel of them on hers made her heart soar. They both lean towards each other, and then their lips are brushing. They sort of melt against one another as they deepen the kiss, and it’s simultaneously just like when they were sixteen and vastly different. The softness, the tenderness, and the heart swelling rush are all still there. But there’s fire and passion wrought of pain and loss that sparks and sets them both on fire.

What comes next happens in a sort of haze, as if Killian is a drug she can’t resist. Hands and lips feverishly exploring, and clothes peeled back and cast aside with a mixture of frenzy and reverence. When Emma removes his brace, he stiffens and closes his eyes in shame. She lifts his left arm and runs her fingers across the scars there, then kisses it tenderly. He tells her around an obvious lump in his throat that no one has seen or touched it since Milah. She presses it to her breast and pulls him close for a hungry kiss. She wants him to know he isn’t disabled or broken, not to her.

Then they’re falling as they come together, Killian practically worshipping every inch of her as if she’s an angel he doesn’t quite deserve. And Emma is almost overwhelmed with the intensity of it, and she wonders why she ever thought she loved Neal.

Because it was never like this.

They are still breathing heavily, yet sated and slightly drowsy in each other’s arms when the light pours out of the open door of the wardrobe. Emma cups Killian’s face and runs her thumb along the scar on his cheek.

“Emma.” His voice is almost a groan. “For years, I told myself that if I ever found my way back here, I would stay. With you.”

He’s searching her face, and the look in his eyes is begging her to understand. “But you can’t, can you?” she whispers.

Killian brushes her lips against hers, feather light. “I just received an urgent message from some friends. We were making haste to Neverland when I saw a light in the wardrobe. I have to help them if I can.”

Emma grasps his shoulders tight even as she nods in understanding. He presses his forehead to hers, his eyes closed, and they breathe one another in for just one more heartbeat. Then he slips from the bed and begins to gather his clothes. As he steps into his leather pants, the light of the moon sends a shaft of light across his back, illuminating the criss-cross pattern of scars she had traced earlier with her fingers. She remembers the trembling slave boy of ten, and the hesitantly hopeful cabin boy of sixteen, and she wonders if the scars were there even then.

Killian finishes dressing with a click of his hook into his brace. The sound of it echoes in the quiet room, and she sees his jaw tense with shame. Giving him her body clearly wasn’t enough to wash that away, and it breaks her heart.

“Emma,” he says, voice thick with emotion, “I’m not the boy you once knew. I know I wasn’t worthy to share your bed tonight, but know one thing.” He lifts his gaze finally to hers, and the moonlight brightens them. They are swimming with more emotion than anyone has ever bestowed upon her. “I have always loved you. That has never changed.”

She sits up, clutching the sheets to her bare chest as she watches him walk to the wardrobe. She wants to tell him she loves him too, but she can’t get the words past her throat. He steps into the wardrobe, and a slight panic seizes her that she can’t speak. He turns to look at her, giving her a tender smile.

“Can I come back tomorrow night?”

Her heart soars at his question, tears filling her eyes. “Yes.”

He gives a simple nod, pulls the wardrobe closed, and the light is gone. He is gone. A strangled sound comes from Emma’s throat as she curls in on herself. Every time she and Killian have spent a night together, her world comes crashing down. First Martha’s stroke, then being betrayed by what she thought was her family.

Whatever tomorrow brings, she doubts it will be Killian.

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

When Killian comes back through the wardrobe, the early light of dawn is just beginning to spill through the windows of his cabin. He sinks to his bunk, his heart still struggling to recover from the night he had shared with Emma. He can still see that otherworldly light seeping through the cracks of the wardrobe door, and he’s tempted to go back through and simply stay with Emma. He clenches his jaw as he reaches over with his hook and pierces the small slip of paper that had arrived via bird from Tink and Tiger Lily less than twenty four hours ago.

Pan has him.

Three simple words that he can’t ignore. So he lets the light fade away, rises to his feet, and strides above deck, crushing the missive in his hand.

“What is our position, Starkey?” he cries to his first mate.

“We’ll be making landfall in less than half an hour, sir.”

Killian nods as he joins the other young man at the captain’s wheel. Starkey’s gaze keeps cutting his way, but Killian is in no mood to talk. His emotions are a tumult of golden hair, light green eyes, and heated skin mixed in with the fear of reaching the island too late. Somehow, for reasons he can’t fathom, his night with Emma feels intertwined with the boy he has to save. Has to. He tells himself this overwhelming urge comes from his own memories of a shattered childhood, but somehow he knows it is deeper than that. His nerve endings feel exposed, brushing up against a mystery just out of reach.

When they anchor the ship in the cove near Mermaid’s Lagoon, Hawkins tells him in hushed tones that the island is much too quiet. It has nothing to do with the empty lagoon or the stillness of the dark waters nearest to the shore. The mermaids abandoned this place long ago, when magic first began to die. Tink speaks dreamily of their songs, but it’s a pleasure that has never reached his ears.

No, this quiet is filled with a heavier foreboding. Hook normally visits the home beneath the ground on his own, not wanting to expose Wendy to his uncouth crew, but this time he takes those he trusts most along with him: Starkey, Hawkins, and Slightly. Mason begs to come along, but there’s too much unknown to risk it.

They find the place just as quiet as the rest of the island. Wendy’s sewing basket is sitting abandoned by the hearth, the fireplace cold. Hook frowns when he sees a tiny cup sitting upon the kitchen table, filled to the brim with a brown liquid. He shakes his head.

“Wendy always makes sure Michael takes his medicine.”

It’s awful stuff, and the boy pitches a fit every time, but the concoction brewed by Tiger Lily is a supposed inoculation for dreamshade. Killian’s skeptical of the home remedy - it’s never made a bit of difference for his crew - but it makes Wendy feel better to make her brother take it.

Yet here it sits.

Starkey pulls a dagger from his belt. “Something strange is afoot, Cap’n.”

“Aye.”

“Their brother John came for them.”

They spin at the sound, weapons aloft, but it is only Tiger Lily. Killian deflates and re-sheaths his sword.

“Brother?”

“Half brother,” Tiger Lily sighs, depositing a quiver of arrows upon the table and rolling her shoulders. “He’s already a man. A man who made a deal with Pan, apparently. You weren’t the only one searching for the boy, Hook.”

“You don’t mean -”

“Yes, Pan has him. I’ve tracked them to Skull Rock. Tink is there keeping watch, but I’m not sure what we can do.”

“And Wendy and Michael -”

“Gone. I don’t know how, but Pan gave John an antidote for the water of Rainbow Falls as well as passage to another realm.”

“Home,” Killian whispers, “a land without magic, Wendy said.”

Tiger Lily nods. “John was a desperate man, Killian. He didn’t want to turn the child over; had grown attached to him even, but Wendy is 15 now, and . . . “

She trails off, her shoulders hunched. She isn’t like Tink with chatter spilling out of her. Tiger Lily is clearly shaken. Killian sinks onto one of the kitchen chairs and rubs his hand over his face.

“He wanted to save his sister and brother, I get that,” Killian fumes “but turning over a tiny lad that way . . . “ He slams his fist into the table in frustration.

“We must attack, Captain,” Hawkins says grimly, “before Pan kills the boy.”

Killian looks at the three determined men before him. He knows they’re right. Emma, he thinks to himself, please understand if I don’t make it back to you.

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

“Pan has to do the ritual here,” Tiger Lily whispers from their hiding place in Skull Rock. “This is the heart of Neverland. All the island’s magic originates here.”

Killian peers over the rock with Tiger Lily at his side. The child stands trembling with Pan beside him. An enormous hourglass looms over them both, the sand within like gold dust. Whatever it is measuring, time is almost up.

“I’ve never seen that hourglass before,” Killian says to Tiger Lily.

“Pan’s had a protection spell around it until recently. It measures Pan’s boyhood. He will never grow up, but he isn’t immortal.”

He isn’t immortal. A slow smile fills Killian’s face. “Pan is the reason magic is dying in Neverland.”

Tiger Lily’s gaze meets his, her brown eyes widening brightly. “Of course! Peter Pan’s magic is unnatural; it consumes. Get rid of Pan -”

“Restore Neverland to glory,” Killian finishes for her.

Killian looks back at the child once again, yet another source of magic for Peter Pan to consume for his own “play.” Even from this place he can hear the boy’s weeping. The Lost Boys surround him and their leader, weapons forming a tight circle that will be difficult to penetrate. Nevertheless, Killian takes note of one important detail.

“They are in an offensive position to keep the boy in,” he whispers. “Not defensive to keep attackers out.”

“We still need a plan,” the fairy whispers back.

He smirks at Tiger Lily. “What do you think I have a crew for?”

She rolls her eyes. “You don’t mean to tell me you’ll risk that child for a full on assault?”

“Hey,” he gives her a wink, ‘trust me for once.”

He slips away, further into the cave, and he bites back a chuckle at the way Tiger Lily is grumbling. His crew has used these caves often to store bits of treasure for a rainy day, so he’s familiar with its labyrinth of tunnels. He hurries along one with light, quiet steps. It leads him to a precipice just over where Pan is giving a rousing speech to his Lost Boys.

Killian is surprised that the child isn’t restrained in any way, but he’s so small, and his eyes so large with fright, that it’s likely unnecessary. Killian eases his way to the very edge of the precipice, lying flat on his stomach so he’s hidden from sight.

Pan is saying something about saving Neverland’s magic, grasping the trembling boy by the arm. Killian thinks back to Mason and then Michael and the lack of a mark that saved them from this cruel rite. He can’t see it from here, but he assumes that this child does bear the mark.

Killian knows that time is short. He scans the large main cavern of Skull Rock, his eyes finding the members of his crew. All are in position, so he takes a deep breath before calling out:

“Flee! Flee!”

He adjusts the timbre of his voice, deepening it ominously. The Lost Boys freeze and Pan narrows his eyes as he drops the little boy’s arm. Now that he has their attention, he continues.

“You heard me. Flee, I tell you! The spirit of Skull Rock has spoken!”

To his right, still crouched behind the rock where he left her, Tiger Lily is glaring at him. She makes gestures with her hands that clearly say what the hell are you doing? He tosses her a wink which says Hey, it’s me! Which she ought to be used to by now, really. Below them, his words have had the desired effect on the Lost Boys.

“It’s a ghost!”

“A ghost who wants revenge!”

“This place is haunted!”

“Quiet, you idiots!” Peter shouts. “Someone’s here alright, but it’s not a ghost.”

“I am the ghost of vengeance,” Killian cries out again in a deepened voice.

He’s enjoying this far too much, truth be told. Peter’s face can’t seem to settle on anger or fear, and Killian’s lips curl into a grin. The imp pulls out his dagger as he inches closer to the stone walls of the cave, and the Lost Boys gather at his back. The pixie dust is too scarce now for the demon boy to take flight, a fact that Killian relishes.

In the shadows, Killian spies Hawkins taking advantage of Pan’s distraction. He grabs the little boy, clamping a hand over his mouth to muffle any cries. Mason is at his back, and the two teenagers hurry the child to a waiting rowboat, Tink at the oars.

Once the youngest members of his crew have succeeded in rescuing the lad, Killian slinks back down the tunnel to join the rest of the pirates. Tiger Lily scowls at him as she follows.

“So you were never going to clue me into your plan?” she whispers.

“What would be the fun in that?” he quips back under his breath.

Peter calls out into the dark recesses of Skull Rock, “Ghost, demon, or man, whoever you are, make yourself known!”

Hook’s lips curl up into a satisfying smirk. The noose has been tightened; his crew has The Lost Boy’s surrounded.

“Boo!” he shouts, arching one brow mockingly.

The look on Pan’s face when he turns and sees a crew of pirate’s behind him, armed to the teeth, is one that Killian Jones will never forget. His crew falls upon the Lost Boys, but Hook keeps his eyes locked on Peter Pan. Hook isn’t sure if it’s cowardice or desperation, but Pan runs away from the battle towards the hourglass. Then a look of confusion washes over Peter’s face, and Killian grins knowing exactly what his enemy has just realized.

“Looking for something?” he shouts over the din, swinging his hook to dispatch the Lost Boys who are in his way.

“Where is the boy?” Pan shrieks in a blind rage. He lunges at Hook, but his form

is sluggish.

“Gone,” Killian snarls.

“It’s you or me this time, Hook!” Pan bellows as he launches himself at Killian.

Hook’s cutlass flies from his hand; by all accounts the boy has taken him completely by surprise. Never has Peter Pan fought more like a demon than he does now, scratching and biting and kicking. Killian rolls with him, slashing occasionally with his hook enough to draw blood. Peter’s rage is an almost palpable thing, and though Hook could succumb to his own in equal measure, he holds himself back.

Instead, he laughs. The sound sends Pan over the edge and he begins to choke the pirate. Still, the man grins.

“What’s so funny?” Pan demands, fury making those two red spots appear in his eyes.

“This is,” another voice answers, and Pan loosens his grip on his enemy’s throat to follow the source of it. Tiger Lily stands before the hourglass, Killian’s cutlass in her hands. She swings the weapon at the glass with all of her strength.

“Nooo!!” Pan screeches.

The hour glass shatters, the remaining sand pouring out upon the ground. Peter Pan curls in on himself, screaming in agony. Hook feels not an ounce of compassion, however, and he looms over his enemy with a snarl upon his lips.

“You didn’t really think I would drop my weapon so easily, did you?”

Pan doesn’t answer. He throws his head back, clawing at his skin as he continues to scream. The battle between the pirates and the Lost Boys has ceased, and everyone looks on in horror as the boy who never grows up shrivels and wrinkles before their eyes, his bones weakening and contorting. With one final wail, his face seems to melt, then his entire body turns to dust.

For a moment, there is an eerie silence. Former enemies glance at one another, unsure what to do next. Then a violent wind rushes through skull rock, picking up the ashes that were once Peter Pan. A dark shadow flies in behind it, and the ashes whirl it, faster and faster and faster. The vortex sends everyone to their knees, shielding their eyes from the dust and wind. Then there’s a bright pulse of light that sends them all sprawling on their backs.

Killian’s head collides with the rocky floor and pain shoots across his forehead, his focus blurring at the edges. He thinks he sees a flurry of purple and green - wings? He blinks, but then his vision begins to dim as someone calls his name.

Emma, I’m sorry. It’s the last thought he has before he succumbs to the darkness.

Tagging: @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @teamhook @bethacaciakay @let-it-raines @welllpthisishappening @wellhellotragic @winterbaby89 @xhookswenchx @courtorderedcake @branlovestowrite @hollyethecurious @vvbooklady1256 @profdanglaisstuff @carpedzem @ekr032-blog-blog @jennjenn615 @tiganasummertree @lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @spartanguard @shireness-says @scientificapricot @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @superchocovian @sherlockianwhovian @snidgetsafan @ohmakemeahercules @thislassishooked @ilovemesomekillianjones @nikkiemms@delirious-latenight-laughs

#cs ff #csrt #captain swan rewrite a thon #cs neverland au #cs canon divergence #magic wardrobe #soul mates #fate #angst #slow burn #childhood sweethearts

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ladywinchester1967 · 5 years

Text

Try

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Character

Warnings: This is porn, damn near no plot. SMUT, dirty talk, spanking. I think that’s it.

A/N: Based on the gif below the cut; hope ya’ll enjoy!! As always, unbeta’d, all mistakes are mine, pics and gif are not.

I’d slept like the dead, finally. Chronic insomnia was something I’d dealt with for the better part of ten years. So, any good night’s sleep was welcomed. I wandered into the kitchen when I saw possibly one of the most delicious sights I’d ever seen.

My boyfriend, Dean Winchester leaning against the counter, a cup of coffee in one hand and the other’s fingers having powdered sugar licked off of it.

I smiled as the sunlight caught the reds, browns and blonds in his beard, how his body moved with the subtle action, I watched as his hunter instincts clicked and he looked up, seeing me looking at him.

“Good morning.” He greeted me with a smile

“Good morning indeed.” I said, my eyes running up and down his body.

“Are you,” He asked “checking me out?”

“All’s I have to say,” I said as I leaned up against the door jamb, catching sight of the bulge in his pants “is DAMN.”

“Could say the same thing about you there sweetheart,” He said with a wink and he gave a slight jerk to his head “c’mere.”

I happily obliged, smiling as I crossed the kitchen toward him. I was immediately folded into his long arms, tucked protectively into his chest as he put his coffee aside with his chin on top of my head.

“Did you manage to get some sleep?” He asked, smoothing my hair under his hand.

“Yes, finally.” I told him as I breathed him in, he smelled like his soap, leather and the sharp smell of gun powder.

“Good,” He said as he kissed the crown of my head “I worry when you don’t get sleep.”

“Don’t worry about little, old me.” I told him, kissing the hollow of his throat.

“Little? Yes. Old? No.” He said as I kissed his throat again, a primal growl coming from deep in his chest. “Sweetheart, you better quit that.”

“Or what?” I asked sweetly as I kissed up his neck. I knew exactly what I was doing, this always got him riled up.

“You know what happens when you do that.” He warned as I sucked and nibbled on his skin, making him groan and his fingers dig into my back.

“Maybe I see something I want,” I told him as I stretched up to my tip toes, kissing all the way up the side of his neck, intermediately sucking and biting on his skin “And I’m going after it.” I lightly bit his ear lobe as he shuttered.

“Fuck it.” He said and slid his hands down my back to my ass, where he grabbed it and picked me up, my legs wrapping around his waist as he hurriedly carried me to our room. I giggled as I sucked on his skin, making him firmly smack my ass.

“Dean!” I cried

“You love it.” He chided as he pushed the door to our bedroom open with his foot and then kicked it shut. I raked my hands through his hair and tugged on the longer locks at the top of his head as he slammed me down on the plush bed, making a soft “OOF!” come out of me. He pushed my hair out of my face and attacked my mouth with hungry kisses. His tongue barely swiped across my lips, asking to be let in. I opened my mouth for him, where our tongues twisted together, fighting for dominance. When we parted, we were both breathing hard, looking at each other with desire in our eyes. He crawled off the bed and we both undressed, not taking our eyes off one another. There was something about taking my clothes off in front of him that made me want him more. Once he was bared to me, and I to him, he crawled back on the bed. I reached for his hand, lacing my fingers with his as he covered my body with his as we kissed. His every plane and curve was deliciously pressed against mine as our hands tangled together.

“Dean,” I begged as we kissed “mh, please Dean. I want you.”

He pinned my hands above my head, an animal like glow in his eyes.

“Show me,” he commanded “show me how badly you want me.”

I rolled my hips into his, my fingers squeezing his. His hardened length was lined up with my soaking pussy, I moved, my folds brushing against the ridges of his cock. He growled as we kissed, if he was going to make me beg, I was going to do it right.

“Dean please,” I cooed “don’t you want to be inside me? Hear me make those pretty noises you like?”

“Yes,” He rasped “I want to hear that.”

“You want me to roll over so you can spank my ass? Make it all nice and red while you fuck me?” I watched as he bit his lip, he was holding back from fucking me senseless “or do you want me to spread my legs nice and wide so you can see what you do to me while you fuck me? Hm? You want to watch my tits bounce and my pussy soak your cock?”

He’d had enough playing around with that last sentence. He slipped inside me, hitting my sweet spot so suddenly it nearly made my vision go white.

“Oh, I’m gonna have ALL of that sweetheart.” He said as he kissed me and began to move. He thrust hard into me a few times before flipping me on to all fours. He cracked one of his big hands across my ass, making me cry out.

“DEAN!” I yelled as he held on to my hips and rolled into me. I moaned loudly, gripping the sheets tightly as we moved together. He let out grunts and growls, biting my neck and shoulders.

“You like that huh?” He asked in my ear “me taking what I want from you?”

“Ah!” I yelled and he laid another smack across my ass.

“Answer me.” He said, his voice full of authority.

“Yes!” I choked out “Yes, I love it!”

“There we go,” he said, satisfied “there’s my naughty girl.” He yanked me up so that my back was to his chest, he cupped my breasts and toyed with my nipples, making me whine and scratch my nails down his shoulders. “Mhhh, fuck,” he moaned in my ear “look at my sexy girl, taking my cock so good.” He bit the shell of my ear as a moan tumbled from my mouth, his rough hands sliding down my body and holding my hips in place as he fucked into me. “Always so tight and wet for me.”

“Only you,” I moaned, my nails digging into his arms “only you Dean.”

He moaned into my ear and bit it again.

“Mh, say that again.” He said quietly.

He always seemed to need reassurance in these intimate moments, no matter how often I told him how much I loved him or how much I desired him.

“Only for you Dean,” I said and looked back at him, his emerald green eyes studying my face, as if he was looking for a lie in my expression “just you.”

He kissed me as my hands slid up to the back of his neck and into his hair again, his hips never stopping. He pulled out of me and rolled me on to my back, spreading my legs wide. He slipped back inside me as we both moaned loudly as he nailed my sweet spot again. I dug my nails into his back and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. We moved together, our eyes locking together.

“Like that?” He asked as he picked up his speed, his forehead against mine.

“Yes,” I whimpered “right there!”

He kissed me hard and continued, he bucked his hips hard into me, making my breasts bounce. I palmed them in my hands as he watched, liquid fire dripping down my back as my toes curled. His hungry eyes devoured the sight and he bit his lip.

“Dean, I’m gonna-oh fuck!” I cried

“I’m right behind you,” he said and kissed me “come for me sweet girl.”

The flame rolled from the base of my spine up until it reached my shoulders as I let go, letting it consume me as I cried out his name. His hips slapped into mine, the obscene sound of his skin hitting mine filling the room as he let go, spurting his thick ropes into my womb.

When he finally stilled, his forehead resting in the crook of my neck as we both breathed hard. He pulled his softened cock out of me and then looked up at me.

“Think it worked this time?” He asked softly.

“I guess we’ll find out in a few weeks.” I told him as we kissed.

“I hope it did,” he said as he laid beside me, his hand laying over my belly “I can’t wait to see your belly get all swollen.”

I grinned and kissed him again.

“And I can’t wait to see you hold him or her and cuddle them.”

His thumb skimmed over my skin and we kissed. Even if it didn’t work this time, we’d sure have fun trying anyway.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hope you guys enjoyed that!! Your feedback is always greatly appreciated, feel free to like and share with your followers and maybe hit that “follow” button if you feel so inclined. Hope all of you have a wonderful rest of the day!

The Squad:

@waywardbaby @waywardnerd67 @familybusinesswritingbro @ain-t-bovvered @mrswhozeewhatsis @girlborninstorms @dacleverfox @emoryhemsworth @bobasheebaby @deanscarlett @myinconnelly1 @mogaruke @imma-winchester-addict @purpleskiesandcherrypies @dean-winchesters-bacon @animerose96 @coffee-n-fanfiction @drakelover78 @curly-haired-disaster @roonyxx @snffbeebee @ezilyamuzed @mirandaaustin93 @srsllydunnodoncare @latetothewinchesterparty @emilyshurley @atc74 @midnightsilverafterdark @adoptdontshoppets @biawol @supernatural-teamfreewillpage @spaceystacey123 @bella-ca @clo-heda @closetspngirl @thekatherinewinchester @maddiepants @idreamofplaid @love-those-boys-in-flannel @flamencodiva

Dean/ Jensen:

@spnbaby-67 @akshi8278

#lady winchester writes #dean winchester #supernatural #dean winchester smut #Supernatural smut

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pickeringawd · 5 years

Text

your gift of nonchalance (part 2)

W: some swearing and suggestive content. WC: 2.3k words. AN: hey, it’s messy bella back at it again ! here’s the second part of ygon... six months later... hehe. so i decided to cut it into 3 parts instead of 2 because i’m stuck in the story and figure it’s better to post what i have instead of keeping ya’ll waiting even longer. so sorry this took an eternity and thanks so much to those who remained interested despite the long wait. love y’all <3

There’s a half-empty bottle of wine on the coffee table surrounded by a few cans of beer and empty containers of takeout food. A movie is playing on the television, its bright screen illuminating the otherwise dark living room. The door leading to the balcony has been left ajar by the last partygoers, the remnants of Shawn’s small get-together lingering on the patio table in the form of red solo cups and withered cigarettes.

Good friends and good vibes, he’d said.

A gentle breeze blows past the curtains and into the apartment. You’re lying down on the couch, feet snug beneath a throw pillow, and nursing a glass of wine. Similarly, Shawn lies comfortably behind you, engulfed in the film, his gaze unmoving. It’s a tight squeeze but it proves manageable. He has his hand on your thigh, the pads of his fingers soft as they travel up and down the bare skin. So far, you’ve managed to keep your heart beating at a reasonable pace and solemnly refuse to glance down lest the size and deep flush of his hand send your heartbeat in a fluttering frenzy. He hasn’t been able to keep his hands off you all evening. His way of apologizing for yesterday, you assume. Or perhaps, he’s afraid if he lets go, you might not return to him this time.

“Hey,” he calls. You crane your head to the side. “I’m happy you came tonight.” The ever-present genuineness of his words and demeanour shines brighter than usual. And you wonder how long those words have been sitting on the tip of this tongue, waiting for the right moment to finally glide down.

“Me, too.”

His smile radiates warmth and love, and when he plants a chaste kiss on your temple, something he’s done a million times, you wonder if it’s the wine that’s got you feeling all flushed and tingly. Resting your glass on the coffee table, you turn around in his arms and bury your face in his neck. A comforting feeling settles into your bones at the familiar scent of Shawn.

He wraps strong arms around you, pulling you into him, and as you shut your eyes momentarily, you’re left wondering how you’re ever going to survive without this. Without his arms around you. Without the intimacy. Without those bright eyes staring at you as if you were the most important person on Earth. And what it’ll feel like to know that another girl has his heart. That he belongs to someone else. Because that day will come. The day a one-night stand will turn into a date, and a second date, and then an official proclamation of love. Or perhaps, he’ll fall head over heels for some sweet girl he’ll meet at a café in another city. Or worst of all, maybe he’ll go for someone he can relate to, a celebrity. Someone who can adjust more seamlessly to his lifestyle, who can complement him, and not hold him back. And the thought terrifies you. So much so that you can’t help but hold onto him a little tighter.

“You’re missing the best part.” He says languidly, stifling a yawn. But he tightens his hold on you, restricting your movements, and rendering your attempts to peek at the television futile. So you give up altogether.

“Whatever,” you chuckle. “We’ve seen this movie a gazillion times. Bet I can guess the scene.”

“Sure.” He elongates the word, sarcasm lacing each letter.

“Uh,” you begin and he presses the mute button on the remote before you can pick up any dialogue. So in other words, cheat. “It’s… the chicken scene?”

“How did you—”

“I got it right?” You interrupt, perking up.

He deadpans, “not even close.”

Your excitement falters. “Should’ve seen through that,” you mumble.

“I keep telling people my acting is just as impressive as my singing, if not better, but I’m yet to be taken—” To shut him up, and retaliate, you bite into the skin of his neck, adding just enough pressure to interrupt whatever monologue he has going. He chokes out a cry of surprise.

“Easy, Madam Dracula.”

Giggling, you run a thumb over the bite, the mark glowing bright red in its wake, and remark, “your skin is so sensitive.”

“Tender, we prefer.” He jokes.

“Want me to kiss it better?”

He feigns petulance, “I see no other cure.”

Nothing is out of the ordinary. But the elephant in the room is gaining in size. What had transpired the day before had been buried deep and sealed off. Both had acted as if nothing had happened. The party had been in full swing when you’d showed up earlier, bottle of vodka in hand. Shawn had been waiting for you by the entrance, a big smile on his face. No trace of concern or resentment. And you’d done a good job of keeping your feelings at bay. However, those feelings are beginning to bubble to the surface. Yet, both remain ignorant of the fact. Of the nearing threat. All rationale hidden somewhere underneath a heap of alcohol.

Slipping an arm around his torso, you lean in and press your lips to his neck, over the bite mark. His skin is warm and soft, the faint smell of cologne and body wash pervading the air around you. Something inside unravels, revealing an urge to go further and explore more expense of skin. You feel lightheaded, the wine in your system having lulled you into a state of susceptibility. The heat radiating off him is inviting, a contrast to the chilly evening air coming in from the patio, and acts as a gravitational pull, drawing you in. Everything feels almost magical. Surreal. In-the-moment.

“I missed you last night.” He murmurs, his voice suddenly gruff.

Mistakes don’t exist in a magical world, right? Neither do consequences. So what’s a little honesty? “I miss you all the time.”

“Even in this moment?”

You pull back a bit to study his face, the television’s colours reflecting onto his skin. “Yeah, even in this moment.”

“Okay,” he nods. And then offers, “but I’m right here.”

Kissing his shoulder, you mull over the thoughts floating around in your head and whether to voice them or not. He may be there but is he all there? As his best friend, you’re not privy to everything. Parts of him remain concealed to you and therein lies the problem. There is a constant barrier between you. A line separating the two. A line that cannot be crossed without fundamentally changing the dynamics of your friendship. But a line you’re willing to cross, regardless.

“Hey, what is it?” He cups your cheek and brushes his thumb over your cheekbone, worry evident on his face. Your head spins, the skin of your cheek inflaming under his touch. It must be the wine making you so receptive to his touch.

Letting your eyes fall shut, you whisper, “you’re here but I don’t have you the way I want.”

“And how do you want me?” He pushes a lock of your hair behind your ear, his hand sliding down and curving around your nape. If he feels your erratic pulse beneath his fingers, he doesn’t comment on it. “A little cooler? Y'know, there's nothing wrong with liking Harry Potter.”

He doesn’t hear the urgency in your voice. But that isn’t his fault. Nor is it yours. The line between lovers and friends has blurred considerably over the years. Sometime after the 8th grade, it seems you’d both stopped dating other people. Just like that. Out of the blue. Hand-holding, face-kisses, and pet-names slowly became the norm, leaving very few things off-limits. Even now, what may seem like questionable behaviour to others goes unnoticed by the both of you.

You grab onto his wrist as your eyes flutter open. Using the arm wrapped around his torso, you pull him in so his body is facing yours. The words on the tip of your tongue stutter into oblivion as you take in his features. His face is so close to yours, the usual stress-induced wrinkles and creases absent now that he's had time to sleep. “You’re like really fucking pretty.”

He cheeses. Compliments are usually reserved for his craft. Rarely do you compliment him on his physique, and on the occasions that you do, it’s the backhanded variety. He’s full of them by the end of the day, anyway. “Back at ya.” Your intentions remain unknown to him. There’re no questioning glances. It's just banter between best friends to him.

“Like... it's unreal.” You mutter, frustration thick as the words roll down your tongue. What are the odds that your best friend in the world is super attractive, talented, and has a heart of gold to match? “Whatever higher power resides up there must've been in the mood to craft the embodiment of perfection when he made you.”

Your sober self would never say these things. The alcohol is in part to blame for the lack of filter. The other part belongs to the imminent threat you felt yesterday. That scent brought forth a great deal of introspection. It had prompted the overflow of buried feelings and consequently today’s spill.

His eyebrows slide up in surprise. “Poetic,” he muses. “Mind if I use that in a song?”

There's an amused lilt to his words. He must assume the alcohol culpable for your behaviour. And he's not wrong, not a hundred percent. Still, you lean in and kiss him. (How else are you going to prove you’re being serious?). It’s tentative. You feel his reaction rather than see it. His hand loosens around your nape, just slightly, but his lips widen into a smile. “You're such a fucking lightweight,” he murmurs against you, his hand wandering up to cradle your jaw, his thumb gently pressing against your bottom lip. “You're drunk,” he clarifies.

“Am not,” you rebuke weakly.

He glances at the half-empty bottle of wine on the coffee table and raises an inquisitive brow.

“Maybe a little. But so are you, Mr. Just-As-Guilty.”

He grimaces good-naturedly. “I'm not the one drunkenly kissing up on my best friend.”

You catch his gaze as it lingers on your bottom lip, his thumb mindlessly stroking the plump flesh, and whisper, “but you want to.”

He snaps out of the short-lived trance. Eyes trailing up to meet yours, he gives out a little laugh and retorts, “well... who wouldn't? You're like really fucking pretty.”

“So kiss me.”

He blinks and leans forward, right into your personal space, and presses his lips to your cheekbone before trailing down to the corner of your mouth. You clutch his shirt between your fingers, longing and anticipation pooling deep in your gut. Impatient, you tilt to the side and kiss him. Again.

Pulling back slightly, he brushes his nose against yours, a low guttural groan emitting from his throat. “We're not drunk enough to be doing this.”

He's right. Drunken kisses in the clandestine corner of some dimly lit party weren't uncommon. But they were rare and arose only during the loneliest of hours. The level of intoxication had to be significant enough that you could both claim it liable. However, the mere prospect of kissing sober or even semi-sober has never been entertained. Doing so would no longer blur the lines, it would eviscerate them.

“I know.” You tilt your chin inward and welcome his thumb as it presses into your mouth. As carelessness settles into the air, it seems even Shawn's will is beginning to crumble.

He swallows audibly, eyes glazing over, and sputters a few more half-hearted protests, his concentration wavering.

Humming, you take more of his thumb into your mouth, tonguing the pad, and watch the puzzled astonishment in his orbs give in to lust. Lust. A sight surely witnessed by the mysterious woman with the scent. And many more before her.

“I am pretty buzzed.” He reconciles, eyes locked on your lips, his finger slowly drawing in and out of your mouth. You nod, desperation clawing at your back. “And y'know, all things considered, until earlier this evening I thought I had lost you.” His gaze flicks up. “And... that really fucked with me.”

Your heart squeezes. You pull back, his thumb wet as it trails down your chin. “Fuck. I—I need you.” Forcing the sudden surge of emotions he'd unwittingly unleashed deep, deep down, you dip your hands beneath his shirt, fingernails scratching the soft skin, and crowd his personal space. Meeting you halfway, he complies in the form of another kiss, this one much more deliberate and intense.

You drag his shirt up his chest, tugging on it impatiently. Repositioning himself so he's straddling your thighs, he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it to the side. Numerous summers spent at the beach and lounging in his backyard had afforded you this very same sight but under much different circumstances. You place your hands on his stomach, marvelling at the taut muscles.

Covering your hands with his, he stares into your eyes as he guides them down his abdomen, slowly, stopping only once they reach his belt. Before your nimble fingers can begin to work on the buckle, he leans in and whispers something.

“I love you,” you repeat it back to him. It comes out too breathy and too quiet.

There's a finality to the words. Words you utter to a loved one you may never see again. Or a significant other as you stand by an idling train the summer after high school graduation, promising each other to keep in touch but knowing better.

——————————————

taglist: @serendipity-y @kaisbby @positivethoughtsforever @thomasthegoatofsataaaan @badrepshawn (i think this is all? please let me know if i’ve missed anyone)

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes angst #type: angst #title: your gift of nonchalance #title: your gift of nonchalance 2

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jessahmewren · 5 years

Text

“i didn’t know it could be like this” Chapter 3: Silk / Queen / Bohemian Rhapsody Fan Fiction

Chapter 1 | 2 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Summary: Freddie returns to the club alone with a present for John. (It’s Deacury, ya’ll)

Rated E: Everybody be aware it’s smut

Chapter 3 of ?

Pairings: Freddie Mercury/John Deacon, Brian May/Roger Taylor, Roger Taylor/John Deacon, eventual puppy pile

Words: 2365

Also on AO3

Tagging @another-random-girl because she asked ;). Anyone wanting to be tagged, just drop me a message.

-0-0-0-

Freddie walked along the racks of clothing in his favorite thrift store, hands idly rifling through shirts and trousers of all fabrics and colors. Even though he and Brian didn’t have a legitimate band yet, they would one day [he could feel it in his bones] and they would need to be stage and camera ready.

He was on his way out when his eyes fell on it, hanging there in plain sight, all amber and turquoise dragons and filigree swirls dyed against fine silk.

Freddie bunched it in his hands. The kimono was nothing…the cost of a pint at the pub. But his cheeks caught fire when he imagined it doubled around John, his long hair flowing around his shoulders and his eyes picking up the colors.

Freddie was so excited he nearly left without paying for it.

The walk to the club was maybe ten minutes. Brian had the van, and it was a nice night. Freddie could barely contain himself, such was his excitement at seeing the young man again. It had been, he mentally calculated…two weeks?

Freddie entered the club, instinctively looking around for that sweet, familiar face. After a thorough perusal of the room, however, John was nowhere to be seen. He did see who he now knew as Roger sitting cross-legged on a couch, smoking a cigarette.

He approached the blond, and Roger smiled up at him sweetly. “Hi there handsome,” he drawled as he took another drag on his cigarette. “You needing company?”

Freddie blushed under his attentions, suddenly thankful for the dark room. Roger certainly was beautiful. There was no other word for it. With full lips, those blue eyes, and that smooth, almost feminine jaw. If he wasn’t here for other reasons, he might be tempted.

“I was actually looking for John,” Freddie said politely. “Aren’t you two close?”

Roger stretched his arm over the back of the couch. “You could say that,” he said coyly. “But I’m sorry, John’s upstairs at the moment. If you want to wait for him, he’ll be down soon.”

Freddie’s face fell. Of course, he knew what John’s job was and it didn’t bother him, but he had never been to the club while John was actually with a client. It felt somehow different.

Roger started playing with Freddie’s hair, absently twirling it in his deft fingers. “You like my John, don’t you,” he said with a smile.

Freddie’s eyes grew wide, mouth open to say something.

“It’s ok love. I think he likes you too. He talked about that damn sandwich for days.”

Freddie laughed then, and it made Roger smile.

“Thank you for being good to him,” Roger said seriously. “If there’s anyone in this whole world who deserves it, it’s John.”

You might deserve it too, Freddie wanted to say, but he held his tongue.

“Did someone say my name?” John said as he snuck up behind Roger and planted a kiss to the top of his head. He was warm and fresh from the shower.

“Hello love.” Roger locked eyes with him. “Everything ok?”

John gave him a tight nod in reply.

“I was just talking to your friend here,” Roger said. “Mr. uh—“

“Mr. Mercury,” Freddie supplied graciously. He looked up at John, his eyes soft. “It’s good to see you again John.”

John smiled. “Likewise,” he said, almost shy.

“Well,” Roger said as he got up to stretch. “I’m going to see if I can find myself a date. You two gents have fun,” he said as he winked at John.

John watched him leave, stars in his eyes. “Bye,” he said after him.

Freddie watched the sweet exchange between the two lovers, something twinging beneath his ribs. Briefly, he longed to be a part of what they had.

“So,” John said a little shyly. “You wanna go upstairs?”

Freddie smiled. He knew John had just finished with a client, and could probably use a rest. “Could we just talk for a bit first?”

John pressed his lips together, but gave a small nod.

Freddie gently put a hand on his arm. “What kind of music do you like dear?”

John looked surprised. “Me?”

Freddie giggled. “Yes you, silly! What do you like to listen to? Rock, jazz, classical—“

“Uhm, rock,” John finally said, relaxing a little. “I like Hendrix and The Beatles. And Dylan. Roger and I love music.”

Freddie’s eyes brightened. “Really? I love all of those guys too! And what do you like to do for fun?”

Suddenly the air shifted, and Freddie could feel John’s discomfort. John worried his lip, looking away. “I—I would really like just like to go upstairs now, if that’s ok.”

Freddie frowned, squeezing his arm a little. “Of course darling. It’s no problem. We can go right now.”

And he let John lead him up the stairs and into the familiar rooms of the dingy club.

The door had barely opened when the usually shy John was turning to Freddie, eyes bright. “I wanted to thank you for being so kind to me last time,” John said sweetly. He pressed a chaste kiss to Freddie’s cheek, and Freddie thought he might vibrate out of his skin. “I was in quite a state,” John said, kissing his way down Freddie’s face and neck, “and you were so very nice to me.”

Freddie was breathing hard, the young man sweet and soft and practically pressed against him. “Do you often get into trouble with your drinking,” Freddie finally managed.

Hazel eyes looked up at him under thick lashes. “Sometimes,” he said cautiously, “but the drinking helps.”

Freddie nodded, moving his hands over John’s slight shoulders. “Are you drinking tonight?”

John hummed, pecking his way over Freddie’s bicep. “I’ve had a few, but I have my wits about me.”

Freddie stroked his hair, gently pressing his face to his chest. He thought of the little bag he had brought with him, sat by the door.

“Strip off your clothes, John,” he said quietly. “Let’s see how those marks are healing.”

John complied, stripping quickly for Freddie’s inspection. He stood relaxed in front of the older man, his shoulders back, cock heavy and proud. No tears this time. There was a twinkle of mischief in his eye.

“Why darling, they’re nearly well! How did—“

John only smiled. “Roger. Once I knew what to do, I let Roger help me. Feels much better now. Thanks to you.”

Freddie grinned. “Oh you’ve been very good, John. Very clever. So good you deserve a present.”

John blinked at him. “A present?”

“Yes, of course!” Freddie grabbed the little white shopping bag, beckoning John to join him on the bed.

“I saw it and I just knew you had to have it,” Freddie murmured as John’s hands sank into the pool of silk fabric. He pulled out the kimono, and his mouth fell open.

“For me?” he almost cooed. His hands tremble slightly as they traced patterns over the printed silk.

“For you, darling,” Freddie reassured him, and the light in John’s eyes was enough to fill Freddie’s heart to overflowing.

John gasped, a small intake of breath as Freddie took it from him and draped it over his shoulders. “Let’s try it on, yeah? I want to see you in it.” John’s eyes were wet as Freddie pulled his arms through, the young man warm and pliant in his grasp. Freddie tied the kimono around his waist, doubling the sash. He stepped back, admiring his work.

“God, you’re stunning,” Freddie said as he looked at him, his eyes full of wonder.

John blushed deeply, cheeks dappled scarlet and face partially hidden by his long hair.

“You don’t get told that nearly enough, do you,” Freddie said as he brushed his hair back to stroke alongside his face with the back of his hand. John closed his eyes at the gentle motion, leaning slightly into his touch.

“May I kiss you John?”

He smiled, finally looking at Freddie with those hazel eyes. “You can do anything you like to me, sir.” His voice was soft, but distant.

Freddie frowned, moving his hand to card through John’s soft brown hair. “I want you to stop talking like that,” Freddie said, his voice suddenly choked with emotion.

John looked at him, his eyes large. “Like what?”

Freddie sighed, a tear slipping out beneath his lashes. “Like you’re disposable, John.”

John’s eyes searched his face for a moment before slipping down and settling on Freddie’s lips. He pushed forward, the silk of the kimono brushing Freddie’s face as John’s hand settled behind his neck. Their breaths mingled for a moment, something passing between. Something unspoken. Something understood.

And then John kissed him. Softly, sweetly, he slotted their lips together, and Freddie’s groan reverberated in the quiet of the room, honey sweet and low as John took him deeper, his tongue exploring the depths of his mouth until Freddie lost himself to the feeling of John’s hands on him, tentative, yet capable and sure.

John released him, his hazel eyes dark and looking up at him with a small smile on his face.

Freddie couldn’t take his eyes off him. The high blush, the dark eyes, the delicate features filling out the silk kimono. Freddie’s throat tightened.

“On the bed,” he commanded. “Hands and knees.”

He saw John swallow before nodding curtly, the young man scrambling in the tumble of printed fabric to get into position. He reached for the sash at his waist, but Freddie stopped him.

“Leave it on,” Freddie said, already slipping behind him. “I wouldn’t dream of having you take it off.” He ran the flat of his palm down John’s arched back, fondly stroking the patterns over John’s skin. “How does it feel love?”

“Cool,” John said, his head between his arms, “and smooth against my skin.”

“Good darling. That’s the only type of feeling you should ever have there, unless you agree to otherwise.” He tugged at the end of John’s hair. “Do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” came John’s breathy response.

Freddie trailed his hands back down John’s sides to skim under the hem of the kimono where he finally met John’s warm flesh.

“You’re so good,” Freddie crooned as he smoothed his way to John’s buttocks. He settled a palm there, thumb sweeping back and forth over John hip. “So brave,” he almost whispered. “You definitely deserve a reward.”

“You bought me a present,” John said quietly, a slight tremble in his voice.

“Ah, but I’m thinking of something much better than that,” Freddie said softly. “Now spread your knees for me sweetheart. And promise me if you want to make a sound, that you’ll make it, and not hold back. Do you promise?”

John’s cheeks burned. “I promise sir.”

Freddie licked a smooth stripe from John’s rim all the way to the cleft of his buttocks, making him shudder. He paused, coating his fingers in lube, and gently probed John’s entrance.

He teased John open, noticing the young man’s sharp intake of breath, the way he squirmed against the hand on his hip. John was hot and tight, but greedily accepted what Freddie gave him as he gingerly worked in a second finger.

John moaned, a low, musical sound that only stoked Freddie’s growing need. He pulled out his cock, lazily stroking himself. The reality of John coming apart on his fingers, basically swimming in that kimono, was better than any fantasy he could have ever conjured.

Freddie crooked his fingers, slowly moving them in and out until he found John’s prostate. John cried out, rutting back against Freddie’s hand as his fingers clasped handfuls of sheets.

“That’s it darling,” Freddie said a little roughly. “You’re doing so well…so perfect for me.”

John only moaned, twitching and writhing as Freddie scissored him open. Then the fingers were gone, replaced with Freddie’s mouth.

Freddie moaned, stroking himself in time with the thrusts and licks of his tongue, his face buried in John’s warmth. John keened loudly at the new sensation, the wet heat against his walls, teasing his rim, Freddie’s head between his legs…it was all so overpowering, and far more than he had been prepared for.

“Please sir,” John gasped, grinding back against Freddie’s mouth, “I can’t—“

Freddie pulled away, wiping his chin on the tail of the kimono. “What can’t you do darling?”

John just shook his head, eyes closed, unfamiliar and overwhelmed by the onslaught of his arousal.

Freddie took him in hand, stroking him firmly, yet gently. “It’s ok baby,” Freddie soothed as he leaned over him. He kissed his hair as he stroked him, rubbing calming circles over his shoulders with his free hand. “You just need to come. Let me help you.”

Freddie stroked him in earnest, strong hands and lean fingers working John to completion. And then he was coming, chin tucked into his chest, tears streaming down his face.

Freddie rolled him over on his back. “Darling, are you alright?” John was eerily quiet, tears staining his red cheeks.

He nodded quietly, then added a weak “yes sir.”

Freddie rose from the bed, grabbing a towel to clean him up. He settled alongside John, pulling him close.

“Just alright? Anything else on your mind?”

John sniffed. “You didn’t come,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.“

Freddie gaped. “John…John, darling. I’m fine! I wanted to do this for you, and I LOVED it. I don’t always have to come to enjoy myself. It was wonderful, my love. And it was nothing you did. Not at all. You are amazing.” He pressed a gentle kiss to his temple. “I’m so lucky to have met you.”

John’s eyes regained a little more spark. “I’m lucky too,” he said quietly.

Freddie pulled the blankets up around them. The quiet of the evening had settled softly in the room, and all they could hear was the sound of their breathing and the distant traffic on the highway.

“I’m a singer,” Freddie said in the silence. “That’s what I like to do for fun.”

John smiled where he lay against the pillow. “That’s funny,” he said. “I used to play the bass.”

-0-0-0-

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writemarvelousthings · 6 years

Text

Ride With Me (Part 15 *Final*)

PAIRING: reader x bucky barnes au

WORD COUNT: 1.8K

WARNINGS: Swearing, graphic content. Character death. Blood. Angst (it's a big one ya’ll)

Schmitt and his gang have you surrounded, but who will make it out with their lives.

Previous Chapter

This is it everyone, the last chapter of this series. It’s been a crazy ride writing this and I want to thank you all for coming along on this journey and for many more to come!

GIF NOT MINE

Clint’s scream cut through the bar as the sound of the gun firing off rang in your ears. You slumped slightly in Hela’s grip as Bucky struggled against Hammer, your eyes flicked to Rumlow. He shrugged slightly, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket.

“Things were moving too slow for my liking” you felt Hela’s eyes bore into Rumlow as Bucky growled

“You fucking bastard” you were numb, the blood pooling from Clint’s leg was thick and dark. His dry wrenching made your stomach turn, Rumlow merely grinned. Lighting his cigarette, placing it on the bar counter.

“I’ve been called worse” leaning down he pulls Clint back by his hair, the pained look spreading across his face makes you strain against Hela’s grip.

“You’re not going anywhere” she hisses in your ear, you look over to Schmitt. He has a look of annoyance like he had stepped in dog shit on a hot summer’s day.

“What did I say about disobeying the rules?” Your eyes flick to Bucky who has stopped struggling against Hammer. His blue eyes search yours, looking to see if you’re hurt. You give him a small nod as Schmitt sighs, the sudden commotion outside turns all your attention to Hawkeyes door.

“Now you’ve made things challenging” Schmitt pinches the bridge of his nose. Turning he throws his hand towards you and Hela.

“Tie up the girl, put her with the others. I think we need to bring things back to a civilised level” with an air of reluctance Hela shoves you over to the bar, the force of hitting the solid wood takes the breath out of your lungs. There’s a metallic skidding noise and a soft thud. You notice it straight away, looking back you watch as Hammer and Rumlow force Bucky into a chair. Both of them pointing guns at him, escape would be futile. Hela pulls you around to face her, tying your wrists together with a cable tie.

“On the ground bitch” she shoves your violently next to Clint, Peggy still out cold on his other side and you don’t even want to look towards the bodies of Pietro and Luis for fear or breaking down or throwing up. You feel Clint slump against you, turning your head to press your lips into his temple he groans in pain.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry Clint. I’m so sorry.. this.. this all my fault” you blink back hot tears as Clint groans softly. The pool of his blood starts to seep into your jeans, it’s warm and sticky and makes your stomach churn. You shift closer to Clint slightly, he lifts his head up your eyes locking together.

“None of this is your fault” feeling the droplets fall down your cheeks your attention is ripped from Clint as a pained cry tear from across the room.

“You could be so valuable to Thanos James, all that potential and you spend it which cheap whores in a dive like this. You could be feared all over the city if you just let yourself give in” Bucky’s eyes were swimming with rage as Schmitt, leaned over him. You throat tightening when you realised a knife was embedded to the hilt in Bucky’s left shoulder, blood dripping down his arm as he gritted his teeth.

“Just… just let them go. Let her go, she’s got nothing to do with this” You wanted to scream at Bucky to shut up, to stop the words coming out of his mouth.

“She’s your weakness, Barnes. And you know what he does to weakness” Then suddenly everything went to hell. The crash from both windows of Hawkeyes made everyone in the bar turn sharply, the blinding flash of light and thick smoke that followed sent you skidding across the floor. You choked on what little clean air you could grasp at, the thundering sound of the door being kicked open and the angry shouts were nothing compared the deafening sound of bullets raining around you. But one sound grounded you most of all.

“(Y/N)” the roaring cry of your name falling from Bucky’s lips guided you, like a lighthouse in the night. You scrambled across the floor, stumbling into a stance when you felt it, a blinding white pain in three parts of your body. You watched as Bucky’s towering frame emerged from the smoke as you fell forward into his arms.

“Baby? Baby...fuck oh god.. (Y/N) can you hear me? Open your eyes sweetheart, come on let me see those pretty eyes.. fuck...SOMEONE HELP ME” you couldn’t do anything but gasp, the pain blossoming to every part of your body, running like wildfire in your veins.

“No..no.. baby come on stay with me, you’re going to be okay” You could feel yourself slipping into the welcoming darkness as Bucky’s strained voice faded away. The sensation of something wet falling on your cheek as the strong arms encasing you vanished as you slipped away, the sound of Bucky screaming your name fading just as fast.

The sound of steady rhythmic beeping was the first thing you registered, then pain. Dull at first but then intense, you’re body felt like it had been hit by a freight train and all you could do was moan in discomfort. Then voices you weren't sure how many, your mind spun violently as you tried to focus.

“Baby? (Y/N) can you hear me?”

“I’ll go get a Nurse”

“Hurry Nat please, (Y/N) can you open your eyes?” Bucky, it’s Bucky. Your mind screamed, he was alive. Battling against yourself, you force your eyes open only to immediately shut them again. Your body falling back into the darkness as you drifted again into unconsciousness.

The second time you woke the room was darker, your eyes adjusted for a moment for you to recognise the sterile room of a hospital. The smell of disinfectant burned your nose as your eyes scanned the room for any other signs of life before landing on a familiar figure. He was slumped over your bed, his left arm in a sling as his right hand clung to yours. Noticing the iv in the back of your hand your eyes travelled up the bag of clear liquid, you still felt pain. In your shoulder, thigh and chest, that’s when you noticed the pain every time you breathed.

“(Y/N)” the soft whisperer drew you back to the man beside you, his blue eyes swimming with emotion as his hair fell limp in front of his face.

“Hey” you managed to croak out, your throat felt sore causing a bout of coughing. Instantly Bucky help a cup of water with a straw, helping you to drink slowly before settling you back down on the pillows.

“The bar... Clint...Pietro the others?” questions came to your mind thick and fast that your mouth was incapable to voice all of them as Bucky hushed you.

“Don’t worry about that Sugar” He moved his good hand to brush your hair back, but you slapped it away. Anger flowing through you.

“What happened?” you voice was cold and demanding as Bucky slumped back into the chair, running a hand over his face you noticed the pained expression on his face.

“Clint’s fine, well as fine as he can with a bullet hole in his thigh. Lost a lot of blood but he’ll be okay” You let out a rush of air from your lungs, relaxing slightly nodding for Bucky to continue.

“You… you were hit... Pretty badly. In your right shoulder, left thigh… but” you watched as Bucky’s voice wavered, reaching over you thread your fingers through his encouraging him to continue.

“One of the bullets hit your rib cage, it fractured the bone causing it to puncture your lung. You’ve been in and out of consciousness for about a week or so now”

“A week?” you asked in disbelief, your brain working a hundred miles an hour to process all the information.

“Peggy… she’s in a coma. Steve hasn’t left her side since everything went down. The doctors don’t know when she’ll wake up… or if she ever will. There was a lot of internal damage, they said she might not ever be the same if she does wake” your eyes stung, you didn’t know Peggy that well but your heart ached for Steve.

“Pietro and Luis?” your voice was quiet, you knew deep down the answer. Bucky swallowed thickly as he shook his head.

“They didn’t make it” The pain you felt was nothing in comparison, letting out a sob the tears that had been brimming finally broke their banks as you sobbed.

“This is all my fault, I should have never come back here... People are dead because of me Bucky” You sobbed violently.

“(Y/N) no, this is all Schmitt and Thanos. They’re the reason Pietro and Luis died” you shook your head as Bucky squeezed your hand, bringing it up to his lips kissing your palm gently.

“I swear to you, Thanos will pay for what he’s done to us” the cool look in Bucky’s eyes made you shiver slightly.

“The others... Hydra, please tell me they didn’t get away” You voice shook, you needed to know that something good was to come out of all the tragedy.

“Rumlow and Hammer got caught in the crossfire… they didn’t make it. Schmitt is currently behind bars where he fucking belong’s but... Hela.. she ran. Escaped out the back were a getaway car was waiting. They haven't been able to find her since” Bucky sighed, you both sat in silence for a moment before Bucky sighed.

“I should have never let you go into that bar, I should have protected you. I should be the one in that bed..”

“Don’t… don’t you dare say that Bucky Barnes. I can’t even imagine you lay here… or if things had gotten worse... If I had lost you... I don’t… I’m so sorry. Bucky I’m so so sorry” You felt the warmth of his body immediately, hugging you as best as he could as he spoke soothing words into your ear.

“I’m right here baby, we’re gonna make all of this okay. You’re never going to lose me” you tried to respond but you could not nothing but cry. Cry for the loss of your friends who you would never see or talk to again. And it enraged you.

“I see that boyfriend of your finally took our advice to go home” You smile slightly at Doctor Christine, she placed the bandage back on your shoulder after she was pleased it was healing correctly.

“Well he was starting to stink a little, so I told him not to come back until he had showered and changed his clothes” the Doctor laughed at that before writing something in her file.

“Well we’re pleased that both of you are doing well” you frown at this, Bucky’s injuries had been minor.

“Both?” the look of confusion made Christine’s eyes widen slightly.

“Has no one told you?” shaking your head your heart hammered in your chest as Christine closed her file smiling.

“Well let me be the first to congratulate you Miss (Y/L/N), you’re pregnant”

Fuck.

Tag List: line through wouldn’t let me tag you :(

@assembletheimagines @capsbuchanan @cassandras-musings @loricameback @ho-ne-y @tieddown-withbattleshipchains @jasura @cry-me-a-fkin-river @fanfic-for-days @wolfgamzee @tired-alpaca @hamil-scribbles @siobhanrebecca @tft-imagines @the-craziestone @urwarriorangel @bemself123 @seninjakitey @coley0823 @courtneychicken @the-amaranthine @sub-miss-me @skeletoresinthebasement @amrita31199 @flodderien @tatortot2701 @bucky-plums-barnes @paranoiadestroyah @chou-maitresse @musichowler @buckybarnes4lyfe @lachicadelamanzana @lostinspace33 @punkfaress

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #marvel au #avengers au #ride with me #writemarvelousthings

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thelostandforgottenangel · 7 years

Text

Sick

Feeling under the weather and it produced this bit of smut

Raven was grudgingly going up the stairs for the tenth time in the last hour to wake up Raphael, they were all going up into the mountains with April and Casey for a ‘Training’ session and would be gone for about two weeks depending on how much they got done each day although they knew it would turn into a snow day since it was snowing up top since last night probably leaving several feet of untouched white blankets of fresh powder for them to play in; but they were still waiting on Raph to drag out of bed since he had been out all night with Casey

“Raph come on! Dad said if you don’t get out of bed he’s sending Mikey up…”

There was no response to her words as she knocked on his door, when she didn’t hear any movement Raven pushed the door open seeing he was laying on his shell, not the most comfortable position for any of the guys but Mikey was able to sleep like that no problem, she knew he hated sleeping on his shell so something was already off about him

“Raph”

Raven stepped closer to the bed seeing he was breathing quick shallow huffs and sweat was pouring off him like he had just finished working out but he wasn’t wearing any of his gear so chances were he hadn’t been up yet.

She reached forward placing one of her tiny hands over his arm feeling the hot skin under her grasp shaking him lightly but he still didn’t budge “Leo…? Donnie something’s wrong with Raphie”

She heard footsteps coming up the stairs seconds later before her brothers were in the doorway looking at them “I think he’s sick guys” Donnie started checking for a pulse placing a hand to his bigger brothers forehead before jumping back

“He’s burning up. Leo I think he really is sick”

Their older brother came around the bed standing next to his little sister pressing his hand over Raphael’s head gaging the fever “Shit she’s right, I’ll go tell sensei we can’t go, somebody needs to keep an eye on him until that breaks”

Raven turned running out the door coming back moments later with a wet rag in hand sitting down next to her hotheaded sibling slowly blotting the sweat from his hard face as he graoned, noting he looked like he was in pain.

Mikey groaned that he was looking forward to going up the mountain for training which was unusual for him to admit but he probably wanted to play in the snow too. “Wait what if I stay home and take care of him and you guys go. Let’s face it I can’t keep up with ya’ll here no matter how hard I try you really think my butt will do any better in a setting where I won’t even be able to stand - or focus without hitting somebody with a snowball. You guys will have enough trouble just with Mikey there-”

They all looked at Raven as she moved closer blotting the sweat that dripped down his face with her sleeve thinking about it hard

“Plus if this is a bug you guys can get I’m pretty sure I’m the best one to take care of him. I’ll just work twice as hard when ya’ll get back”

She had them there; Leonardo nodded before grabbing Raph’s shell turning him over so he was laying on his side mumbling that if he was too weak to flip himself over into a comfortable position then maybe he wouldn’t cause her to many problems.

Raven wasn’t sure what he had meant since Raphael was almost never sick and in the ten years the teenager had lived there with the turtles Raphael had never been sick enough to not get up and move around.

Michelangelo, Donatello, and Leonardo had all been really sick before so she was prepared for that and it was always easy to tell when they weren’t feeling well.

Mikey would act like he was completely helpless and whoever was taking care of him would practically have to do everything for him. Donatello was usually always sick since it seemed like his immune system was slightly weaker than the others, so he would lock his self in the lab going over everything he could find on the internet thinking he had something that was worse than just a cold. Leonardo would basically sleep for hours; becoming unresponsive to the world easily knocked out from the smallest illness

How hard could it really be to take care of Raphael?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

He was seeing red. And this time it wasn’t one of his brothers who was in his sights-

He had come home from hanging out in the tunnels while he cooled off to see his six year old little sister Raven in his and Mikey’s shared room messing with his stuff, what’s worse was she was holding one of his new action figures trying to fix it

“What the hell didja do?”

Her eyes met his but when she saw him and the anger that was clearly plastered all over his face directed at her she froze holding tight to the figurine in her tiny hands

“Raphie… It wasn’t me-”

Her words were lost as he let out a growl “Don’t give me that shit brat. Why the hell are ya holding it?” she stumbled back dropping it on the floor and two of the pieces she had been holding steady came off since the glue wasn’t dry.

“I-I’m fixing her for you Raphie… I just wanted to fix her”

“Shut up!”

He had started towards the small child when she couldn’t form the sentence she had been trying to get out fully prepared to beat the hell out of her; she knew she was in trouble as she looked around for a way past him.

He couldn’t control his movements as he reached for her before she slipped past him spinning around his legs quickly running from his room to the stairs jumping down them “BIG BROTHER, HELP ME… MIKEY – DONNIE! DADDY!” he turned chasing after her on a rampage unable to think straight.

The next thing he knew he had her around the throat slamming her into the wall hearing a strangled yelp that broke her throat “What ‘ave I told ya about playin’ in m’ fuckin’ room ya little shit?”

“Raphie - I can’t-” her small voice sounded so weak, his grip on her throat tightened and she was gasping for air struggling to break his grasp on her neck mouthing something as tears dripped down her cheeks “I-I can’t breathe Raphie”

Those once sparkling green orbs were now filled with panic, fear, and tears. Her frail neck in his strong grasp as she tried to beg him to stop the words unable to get out of his grasp turning red as he continued to choke her

“L-LEO!!!”

He didn’t hear the scared voice that erupted from her in a frantic shriek before there was a loud CRUNCH that vibrated up his arm snapping him out of the angry state seeing her face was now blank watching the little girl’s body spasm before going limp in his grasp and the dazed over look in her eyes

“I didn’t - want you to be mad with Mikey... I - I’m so-”

“What - kid?”

Her voice died off suddenly and he was just looking at her like she was a stranger, her green eyes that were usually so full of life and happiness were wide with terror just moments before suddenly rolled back in her head showing nothing but white and she was no longer moving to push him away, her hands that had been clinging to his wrist suddenly dropped to her side as her head slumped forward.

He reached out wrapping his arm around her waist pulling her up seeing she was still limp in his arms as soon as he let go of her neck, he shook her lightly trying to wake her up dropping to the floor when she didn’t move “N-NO kid… c’mon stop playing – K-Kid… Rave - Please Raven wake up” his huge fingers ghosting over her neck looking in horror when he saw it was broken.

In a fit of anger he had crushed her neck.

“Raven were home-”

His eyes shot up hearing Leonardo’s voice but he didn’t see him. Where the hell were they? Why weren’t they here with her? Where was Master Splinter? Why was she alone…?

“I’m sorry kid-”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

He sat up quickly breathing fast looking around before someone was pushing him back down covering him back up with a thick blanket, he caught the scent of strawberries before whoever was over his was pressing a cool rag to his forehead “Take it easy there Raphie. You’re okay”

His eyes shot up at the sweet voice seeing the face that had just been in his hands, no she looked older now, when the hell had she grown up. Her neck wasn’t snapped and she was smiling; she was alive and right next to him “S-Sis” her face softened before she was leaning over him wiping his face gently again shushing him softly brushing a gentle hand over his cheek

“Been a while since you called me that, How you feeling big guy? Are you uncomfortable?”

“What happened? Ya were - I killed-” her hand was on his cheek again and he leaned into the cool grasp clinging to the gentle touch as she kissed his forehead

“It’s okay it was just a nightmare. All of it was just a bad dream; you’ve been having them for the last couple of days while you had a high fever but I think it finally broke”

He took a deep breath before looking up at her again, cupping her face in his hands taking in every small feature as her hand came over his nuzzling her cheeks into his palm, her sparkling emerald green eyes, that soft porcelain skin, her black curly hair that was carelessly thrown into a messy bun and how a few strands had escaped the loose hair tie to frame her tired face.

He knew it hadn’t been a dream; not all of it at least. He had really attacked her years ago when they were still kids.

She had tried to fix his special edition Harley Quinn action figure he had just got while the others had gone out to see if they could find him a new one to replace the one his youngest brother had broken.

Raven had just been trying to help and if he hadn’t come home early, if he hadn’t walked through the door right then she probably would have gotten it fixed in time and he never would have known it was ever damaged.

She had been so scared she couldn’t get out the words to tell the thirteen year old him what had happened, she had ran when he had went after her, how her frantic screams for his older brother had echoed through the lair.

Then the moment he had her pinned against the wall by her tiny throat choking the life out of her fragile body… his baby brother screaming for him to stop

Leo had come in fast hearing her cries for help and had pulled his bigger brother off their little sister just as his hand was getting ready to tighten up on her fragile neck.

He remembered Mikey and Donnie holding her small body up trying to check her over while she choked and gasp for air; he had lost control of his temper and she had almost paid the ultimate price. From across the room he could see her neck was already bruising. He had collapsed on the ground unable to comprehend what he had almost done in a moment of rage.

He had tried to kill her-

He had started to get up to run from the lair when his vision blurred from the tears he was struggling to keep back but before he could move she was in front of him cupping his cheeks in her tiny hands nuzzling her face gently against his softly ‘It’s okay Raphie. It’s going to be okay’ it wasn’t okay, if Leonardo hadn’t showed up to pull him back he probably would have killed her, but she hadn’t flinched as he started to push her away from him.

She stood so close to him no fear of him what so ever in those tear filled eyes, and smiling up at him like nothing had happened, her touches so gentle on his rough skin he almost didn’t feel them.

She had closed the space that remained between them pressing closer to his hulking body hugging his neck tightly whispering gentle words in his ear as she continued to tell him everything was going to be okay.

He finally wrapped his arms around her holding tightly to the tiny child unable to understand how she was so forgiving after he had hurt her, but as he sat back against the wall clinging to her he didn’t feel as big anymore, it was like when he was a child again, when he was in trouble with Sensei and his brothers would comfort him.

She had forgave him all to easily, followed him around more and more treated him no differently then she had before the incident but she was like his shadow always there next to him, and after a while he didn’t mind having grown accustom to the child who had grown into a beautiful teenager without him realizing it, still just as trusting and easy to forgive him for his faults and short comings.

He remembered fondly that he had gotten almost a whole week in the Ha’shi as punishment for attacking her, how he wished Master Splinter had given him more time or had at least punished him further but Leo had filled him in on how Raven had begged their father not to be too tough on him saying she should have took the figurine to her room instead of staying in his; apparently Splinter had agreed with their youngest family member.

As hard as their father tried to keep her away from him after that Raven was usually close by anyways, she sat in the Ha’shi with him quietly humming or singing to him until Splinter would let him off the hook for the day, just to get her to eat or go to bed.

After that horrific incident he had vowed to protect her from any harm, including him…

He had kept her at a distance never letting her too close to him in fear that he might hurt her again.

He no longer called the teen by her name either he had started referring to her as ‘Kid’, ‘Brat’, and only in those moments of weakness when she needed comforting did he use ‘Little Sister’ because he didn’t think he was worthy of using her name, he never could fully forgive himself like she had.

“Raphael… Earth to Raphie can you hear m-“

His hand was on the back of her neck pulling her closer until she was pressed firmly to him it was then that he kissed her neck hearing her giggle before she pushed herself up smiling down at him in a way that had his heart beating faster in his chest

“Leo was right you do get really affectionate when you’re sick. Glad to see you’re feeling better though. Are you hungry? Made your favorite” he slowly shook his head no even though he was starving but didn’t want to trouble her if she had been here at his side for as long as he thought, but she was helping him sit up propping him in a more comfortable position with pillows before sitting down on the side of the bed next to him a steaming bowl of loaded potato soup in hand mixing it slowly

“I said I wasn’t hungry kid”

“I heard you, but your stomach growling told me different” her lips curved into a small smile as he reached out for the bowl groaning as he sat back against the pillows feeling stiff seeing the kid looked worried as she blew on the spoon full of the amazing smelling soup, he watched as she held it to his lips but he still didn’t open his mouth even though it was watering like crazy “Come on Raph, please eat. The guys ain’t here, just you and me… I won’t tell them” he looked up at her before leaning forward letting her feed him blushing when he saw her smile.

“I can feed myself”

“I know but your still sick, just let me take care of you for now and once your back to full strength I’ll stop with this torture“

He grinned seeing the care she was putting into each movement, he hated to think it but this wasn’t torture; he actually liked having her care for him.

He jumped growling under his breath as some of the hot soup dripped on his chest making her jump apologizing as she wiped it off cleaning him off carefully not meeting his eyes “Sorry” he let out an involuntary groan as her small hands gently touched his plastron her green eyes were gazing up at him and he felt frozen, she quickly looked away grabbing a cup from his side table placing the straw to his lips grinning as he sucked the drink down not realizing just how thirsty he had been, she reached down pulling another can from an ice chest on the floor filling his cup once more sitting down next to him “Here drink this one slowly, don’t want you making yourself sick” he listened and did what she asked sipping at the ginger ale before she was back to feeding him, he wanted to look away but something kept his eyes glued to her face

“You okay?”

He hadn’t realized she has said anything until he looked down seeing she was still holding the spoon up with the last bits of the soup, he nodded slowly before taking another mouthful of food glancing over to the drink about to ask but she was already picking it up before he could say a word

“Hey… Uh thanks for - this” her eyes met his and in that instance he saw the look he had seen all those years ago, that soft grin that made the world feel right around him

“Well somebody has to take care of you otherwise you’d be lost without us dummy”

“I’d be lost without ya-”

The words had left his mouth before he could stop them and when her eyes were on his once more he knew she had heard them, he was about to say something else but in a second she had placed the bowl on his side table and was scooting closer to him.

Slowly her face came closer and before he could process what was happening her soft pink lips were on his in a gentle kiss, her hands cupping his cheeks in a way that made his pulse race and all to soon the warmth of her was gone, he saw the blush that developed on her pale skin before she was shifting back going to move away “I’m sorry-” in that instant his hand had her wrist holding her in place, she looked up at him and he knew if he let go now she would move out of his reach “Raph-”

He gently pulled her closer until her body was pressed against his, Raven froze looking him over several times before his lips were meeting hers firmly holding tight to her arms until Raphael felt her fingers brushing up his arms finally releasing her once she was holding onto him returning his kiss with vigor, her lips moving over his softly enticing him to be more courageous, to move forward.

His tongue drifted over those pink velvet like lips finding they were even softer then he had ever imagined; holding her closer to his body tightening his grip on her waist until her mouth opened under his allowing him to delve deeper into that hot cavern.

He groaned as his tongue brushed over hers finding a sweet taste filling his senses as she chased his tongue back into his own mouth shifted slightly when his hands pulled her body closer.

He sweep her up on the bed until she was straddling his thighs hearing a startled cry seconds before her hands were gliding up his neck, she was driving him crazy and for once he didn’t care, he wanted to feel her move against him, wanted to hear that breathless gasp when he nipped at her bottom lip, finding the most elicit pleasure pulsing down into the lower part of his plastron when he heard her whisper his name into the kiss nipping back at him playfully, clinging to her face gently as the kiss slowed.

She pulled away brushing her fingers over his bottom lip as he tried to wrap his mind around what had just happened feeling awestruck when Raven’s sparkling green eyes fluttered open looking at him in a way finding he felt lost “Why did ya forgive me kid?” the words left him before he even knew he was thinking them

“W-What?”

“When I attacked ya - why did ya forgive me?”

“Raph - that was over… twelve years ago, are you still worried over that. It was an accident-” his eyes flew up when she stopped in mid-sentence looking his face over carefully before grabbing his hand gently in hers kissing the palm before she placed it around her throat holding his hand there when he tried to yank away from her “Look at me Raphael” he could hear her words but his eyes were glued to where his hand was not seeing when she let go of him “-I trust you-” his eyes shot up looking at her as she carefully pressed her neck into his grasp smiling softly “You wouldn’t really ever hurt me Raph. I know that, so forgiving you was like second nature... I trust you completely” he slowly nodded before she leaned closer lying on his chest inches from his lips smiling softly up at him when he wrapped his arms around her ignoring how bad they ached “Do you trust me Raphie?”

“With m’ life kid” the words were soft spoken into the fragrant locks before she pulled away from him, he saw when her face dropped before she was nuzzling his cheek

“Raphael… please say my name - please” he looked down on her as her tiny hands inched lower pressing down into his stomach making him groan as her lips hovered over his just out of his reach “Come on. Say it for me, please.”

“…Kid I-”

“Raphael, say it. Call me by my name; I want to hear you call me by my name”

His voice wouldn’t come out; he opened his mouth but nothing would come out. He still didn’t think he was worthy to say her name.

She pressed closer licking over his neck seducing him slowly kissing over a spot that made a small moan break his dry throat “Do you even remember what it is Raph?” she stopped before her hands were on his shoulders as she slowly licking over it gently making his head tilt to the side giving her more access to the skin she was attacking feeling incredibly hot as she continued to mess with his neck until he felt her teeth gently clamping down over his pulse point sucking softly at it

“R-Raven” she froze looking up at him when she inched away hearing his husky voice next to her ear “Rave - I could never forget yer name, because it has to be the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard”

He watched as tears welled up in her eyes smiling at him as they dripped down her flushed cheeks before he was pulling her close to him holding tight to the teen whispering it softly next to her ear again as a sob broke her throat “I’ve been waiting forever to hear you to say my name again”

She was messing with his neck again with a new intensity pulling another groan from his throat until her lips were against his cradling his head in her arms pushing her lips firmly against his when he pulled her closer holding onto her until she was pulling back from him breathing fast before she was smiling up at him

“Don’t ever stop saying my name Raphie”

He didn’t even get the chance to say anything before she was lying on his chest resting her head on his shoulder with a small sighs smiling to herself as he wrapped his arms around her again holding tight to the teen.

He laid there thinking this couldn’t be real before he realized her breathing had become steady and shallow, her grip on his hand had relaxed, and she was softly snoring against his neck.

She was fast asleep on him.

She suddenly shifted curling up on his chest before he turned over placing her next to him on the bed, kissing her forehead gently so as not to wake her before pulling the blanket over both of them nestling in to the mattress beside her “I’ll call ya Rave as long as ya never stop calling me-”

Her lips were on his in a sweet peck before he saw her emerald green orbs open for a second looking into his golden a small smile pulling at her soft pink lips

“You got it Raphie”

#tmnt 2014/2016 #tmnt raphael #teenage female oc #care #ill #nightmare

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