#carolina writes
Text
parent for hire
finally, the next instalment of this adventure! only another one to go (and an epilogue)!
once more, major thanks to @kmomof4 for being the best beta!
Chapter Six - Camelot
word count: 9,372 words
rating: Teen and Up
tag list: @cocohook38 ; @bluewildcatfanatic ; @piraterefrigerator ; @sotangledupinit ; @booksteaandtoomuchtv ; @teamhook
read on AO3 | prologue | one | two | three | four | five (1) | five (2) | five (3)
They were summoned to the throne room the next morning. There had been new clothes laid out in their room and a bath prepared. Killian chose to explain it with magic and not think about the fact that there had possibly been someone in the room without him noticing.
Their bags had been delivered to their room the night prior and he was happy to note that their things were all present and accounted for. There wasn’t much he needed from it except for the drawing of his brother and his compass - a gift from Nemo. And his sword, of course.
Emma and her parents were already waiting for them in the throne room. Emma looked as beautiful as she had before. Her hair had been pulled away from her face, a blue leather vest and a white shirt she wore fit her like a glove, and the dark trousers complemented her form.
The three seemed deep in conversation, and the royals’ frowns told him that they weren’t happy with the course of it. He wasn’t a betting man anymore but he would wager he knew the subject.
“Even before we appeared on the bank of Lake Nostos, we promised we wouldn’t leave you again. We won’t go back on it now,” Snow tearfully explained.
“You can’t go. You said last night that you were ready to be the people’s ruler again. You have to stay here.” Emma’s tone had a hint of panic, of fear. “This is my mission, I need to go.”
“We can’t change your mind?” David almost begged. “We only just got you back…”
Emma took a deep breath. “I need to do this.”
The determination in her eyes blazed like fire and Killian watched as Snow looked at David, and gripped his hand in a tight grip, an entire conversation being held within their gazes. They turned watering eyes and sad smiles on their daughter, and Killian thought his heart would break.
“We know,” Snow said, her hand on Emma’s cheek. “You’re so grown, a hero in your own right.”
“I-I’m not-” Emma stuttered, her eyes shining in the morning light.
“You are,” David interrupted, pulling Emma and Snow to him for a tight hug.
Killian wondered how many years Emma had longed to be held this way, to be loved this way, and his heart went out to her while his mind traveled to the only parent he still had.
“Y-You don’t have to go, Emma.” Henry’s quiet voice next to him broke him away from his thoughts and the three-person hug in front of them as they finally noticed their audience. “You can stay. You should stay.”
His shaking voice had Killian’s hand tighten on his shoulder.
“Henry,” Emma kneeled in front of the boy, her hands cupping his cheeks. “I want to go with you. I want to make sure you’ll be safe.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m going to let you in on a little secret, Henry.” Snow’s voice shook just as much as the boy’s. “This family will always find each other.”
Snow stood close by, her hand back in her husband’s and he nodded. “There have been many times when Snow and I were separated from each other but we still held on to hope.”
“We were separated from our daughter all those years ago, but we had hope that we’d see her again,” Snow added with a watery smile.
“And look where we are now,” David finished.
“Never lose hope, Henry. Even the possibility of a happy ending is a very powerful thing.”
Henry nodded, tears running down his cheeks but a hopeful smile on his lips. He threw himself at Emma, burying his face on her neck as they both held on tight to each other. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Hope.
Maybe they were on to something.
After all, it was abundantly clear to him how much his life had changed ever since he started having hope.
David cleared his throat and Killian took the distraction to wipe away the tears that had escaped down his cheeks. “Since you’re off on an adventure, I wanted to give you guys something.” He gestured with his head towards the throne at the end of the room.
Henry and Emma followed him holding on to each other’s hands. Killian made to follow, when a hand on his chest stopped him. Looking down, he saw Snow’s watery eyes hiding a fire behind them. Emma’s fire.
“I have something important to ask of you.”
Killian nodded. “Of course, your Majesty.”
“That’s my daughter.” Her voice broke and she cleared her throat. “That’s my daughter and I want her back in my arms. I am prepared to give you anything you wish to protect her and make sure she lives. Gold. Jewels. Anything.”
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline the offer, Your Majesty.”
“What?” Her eyes were wide open with shock, her lips parted.
“You see…” He trailed away for a moment, his smile towards her nothing like his usual smirk, there was too much swirling through his chest to allow for such arrogance. “I have no need for your gold or your jewels. All I need is for Emma to be safe.” He couldn’t help the way his eyes drifted to her, the way she smiled at her father, the way she shined.
When he looked back at the Queen, she was smiling, a soft smile that lit up her eyes.
“You love her, don’t you?”
Killian looked away, scratching behind his ear. Was it so obvious?
“I’m starting to,” he confessed. “It creeps up on you, doesn’t it?”
Snow laughed and he couldn’t help but smile.
“It does, yes.” She nodded, watching him for a few seconds and sobering up. “When we left the castle yest- I mean, that day, we had hope that we’d see her again, yes, but I also had hope that, even if we didn’t, she’d be loved. She’d be okay.”
The Queen cleared her throat, trying to stave off the swelling sadness.
“She told us it wasn’t anything like I’d hoped. I regret that we weren’t able to give her that happiness and love.” She took a deep shaky breath. “But she’s strong. She pushed through and she became more than we ever expected. Seeing the way you and Henry love her, makes it all a little easier. Thank you.”
“Believe me, Your Majesty, loving them is, without a doubt, the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”
The smile on his face melted into shock by the Queen’s tight embrace around him. He hadn’t felt such motherly affection in years. His arms went around her slowly, his eyes closing.
“Killian, look what I have!”
Henry’s call broke their hug, Snow grabbing onto his arms to look at him with a smile. He could only smile back and let her hope fill him. Killian cleared his throat.
“What do you have, lad?”
“A knife!”
“What?!” In a flash, Killian’s smile again turned into shock as he strode over to them.
“It’s not a knife, Henry. It’s a dagger,” David corrected, a smile on his face.
“Why does he even have a dagger?”
“For protection,” David answered like it was obvious. “But only as a last resource, remember?”
“Yeah!” Henry’s reassurance didn’t mean much when the boy was pretending that he was in an imaginary fight with his dagger.
“Henry?” David crossed his arms on his chest and raised an eyebrow.
Henry looked up quickly, his eyes wide and mouth agape before nodding. “Right, last resource.” Sheepishly, the boy sheathed the dagger on the new scabbard on his belt. “Look, Snow. Look at my dagger!”
Despite his concern over the boy, he guessed David was right, Henry should be able to defend himself without his magic. Just the thought of the boy in danger, however… Killian didn’t want to consider it. He looked away to find Emma’s attention on the sword in her hands.
It looked nothing like her old one. This one looked heavier - more of a royal’s sword than a pirate’s, he guessed. The hilt was golden and the cross-guard was curved, a masterful build.
“Looks like a perfect fit, don’t you think?” David asked, having followed his gaze, a look of pride in his eyes.
“I-I don’t know.”
“Since we can’t go with you, I want to know you’ll have a piece of me with you. To help you.” David’s voice was shaky despite his best efforts.
“Thank you.” Emma’s voice matched her father’s as she smiled back. She sheathed the sword on the equally detailed scabbard on her belt.
“Killian!” Henry called as he approached them with Snow. “Have you told them where we’re headed next?”
“No, lad.” He smiled. “I thought you’d want to do the honors.”
“So, last night, Killian checked Cygnus. You know, the star we’re following.” Henry looked between them and, like the avid listeners they were, they nodded. “It’s telling us to go West, to Ca-”
“I’m glad you’re all here.” There was a flash of blue magic after the sound of the Blue Fairy’s voice and Killian couldn’t help the surge of annoyance that rose in him at her presence and interruption.
“Is there something wrong?” Snow asked with a confused frown.
“No, no, I’m here to open a portal for Emma and the Truest Believer,” she answered matter-of-factly. “They’ll be heading to Camelot.”
Henry deflated next to him and Killian frowned. “How do you know that?”
The Blue Fairy sighed. “Camelot is where Merlin will be waiting for the Truest Believer, to fulfill the prophecy.”
“What about Avalon?” Emma asked, taking a step forward. “I’m supposed to take Henry there.”
“Avalon is a myth, dear. It doesn’t exist. It’s merely a sailor’s tale.” Her tone was patronizing as she glanced unimpressed at Killian.
“Tinkerbell told me that the prophecy said that’s where I’m supposed to take Henry.”
“You should know better than to listen to that girl. She has disgraced her role as a fairy and has no business interpreting the prophecy.”
Emma frowned at the fairy’s haughty and indifferent tone. He agreed with the sentiment. Killian watched as Henry took a deep breath and approached the fairy. He couldn’t help the step he took towards the boy, the instinct to protect rising fiercely in him, stopped only by Emma’s reassuring hand on his arm.
“Blue, I need to-”
“Ah, yes, Henry, I have something for you,” the fairy interrupted.
His face lit up expectantly but Killian had already learned to expect the worse from her.
“Tiger Lily asked me to give you this.” In her hand was a vial of sparkly dust. “It's fairy dust.”
Henry frowned as he reached up to take the vial, only for the Blue Fairy to pull it from his reach.
“I was against giving this to you, given your age, inexperience, and its power, but she was adamant that you have it. Tiger Lily is a… special fairy, and she knows how to get her point across.” The frown on her face told Killian there was more she was leaving out of the explanation, but given how secretive the fairies were - and the Blue Fairy in particular - he doubted any of them would ever know what it was. The fairy raised her eyebrow expectantly. “She assured me that you’d use it wisely.”
“Of course, you can trust me.” The boy clutched the vial carefully, reverently. “Did she say anything else?”
“No.”
Henry cleared his throat. “Then maybe you can answer some of my questions.” Killian was proud of his strong tone but the Blue Fairy’s unchanged expression didn’t give him hope that she’d answer.
“No time for that.” Blue waved him away and the boy’s crestfallen expression was heartbreaking. She turned to the others. “Say your goodbyes quickly and I’ll open the portal.”
As soon as Henry got close enough, Killian pulled him close. “I thought they cared.” The boy’s whisper had him tightening his embrace.
Pulling away, Killian caressed the boy’s cheek before patting the hand still clutching the vial with his hook. “I think they still do, my boy.”
Henry looked down and nodded slowly. “Yeah…”
Killian pulled the boy in for another tight embrace, his hand on the back of his head.
“Be careful.” Snow spoke behind them, her hands on Emma’s cheeks, her voice shaky. “Trust your companions and please, don’t do anything reckless.”
“That might be hard, considering how much like your mot-” Snow gave David a silent glare, causing a watery smile to bloom on Emma’s face. “Like all your family you are.”
Emma smiled wide. “I promise I’ll be safe.” She was the one to initiate the hug now, her eyes closed in happiness, her hands gripping her parents’ clothes. “I’ll be back.”
Henry and Killian watched as they slowly released each other and Snow placed a kiss on Emma’s forehead. There was an insistent throat clearing from behind them that Killian completely ignored but broke the peaceful moment between the other three.
Snow and David made their way to Killian and Henry next, David pulling Henry into a big hug that lifted the boy’s feet from the ground and made his giggles echo in the large room. Snow’s hand was on his arm with a reminder of his promise in her eyes. He nodded.
They switched next and while David’s handshake wasn’t as emotional as Snow’s hug, Killian still saw the emotion in the man’s eyes, pleading for the same promise the Queen asked of him. Killian tightened his grip on the man’s hand and nodded, an unspoken agreement between the two. Snow was peppering kisses all over Henry’s face making him laugh once more. That was definitely a good start to an adventure.
The Blue Fairy’s impatience grew too loud to ignore and they all turned to her.
“Now that you’re all done,” the fairy pointedly remarked, “it’s time to go.”
With a wave of her wand, a bright orange portal roared to life.
“We love you, Emma,” Snow called over the noise of the portal.
“Come back to us,” David added.
Emma nodded vigorously, lips thinned in overwhelming emotion. She held onto Henry’s hand. Killian held on to the other as they approached the swirling portal. They all turned back to look at the royals they were leaving behind for one last glance.
Not waiting another moment to change their minds, they all crossed through the portal.
---
The first thing that came to Killian’s mind once they came out on the other side was the lack of nausea. Which was a very happy and welcome reprieve.
Second thing was the silence.
They stood in the middle of a pathway, stone walls standing tall in front of them. Killian turned around to an empty village. Houses were closed, streets were clear, shops were shut.
He was getting really tired of desolate kingdoms.
But this silence was different. There were people here, he could feel it. Unlike Misthaven, there were no signs of disaster. People were just gone. Hidden.
“Another deserted kingdom?” Emma sighed, her voice quiet.
“It seems our little adventure has a theme.”
“I feel something inside those doors,” Henry whispered, his finger pointed at two large wooden doors embedded into a tall stone wall.
“Last chance to turn back,” Killian teased, even with an anxious cadence to his voice.
Emma rolled her eyes with a hint of a smile while Henry chuckled before pulling the two adults towards the doors. Taking a deep breath, they pushed the doors open.
The doors gave way to a large courtyard lit by the midday sun. On the other side of the circle, stood a man in shining silver armor. His hair was dark and his terrible grin shone in the sunlight. Next to him, sat a woman. Hair as dark as the man’s but her expression spoke of an immense sadness, regret and fear, all the fight taken out of her.
“He told me you’d appear,” The man said, his voice echoing in the courtyard.
“Who are you?” Killian asked, standing in front of Henry who grabbed onto his sleeve.
“I’m King Arthur of Camelot and I’ll be taking the Heart of the Truest Believer from you.”
“Just you, mate?” Killian asked, a smirk on his face and eyebrow raised. “I have to say, I like our odds.”
Arthur’s grin widened before he whistled. For a few seconds, nothing happened. Suddenly, a large lion-like creature crashed into the courtyard - its mane and tail was made of fire and it was easily twice the size of an actual lion. Its roar shook the ground they stood on.
“You had to ask,” Emma grumbled next to him, unsheathing her sword.
“At least it’s just one this time,” Henry commented from behind them.
Killian sighed in exasperation, shifting on his feet as he armed himself.
The creature sat next to the king, his fiery eyes on the three strangers. While Killian was a man of bravery, the creature’s size was enough to make him reconsider his initial plan.
“Alright, mate, we might have started on the wrong foot,” Killian started, trying for a disarming tone.
“Give me the Heart of the Truest Believer or I will take it from you. It's as simple as that, mate,” Arthur interrupted.
“Why do you want it so much?” Henry asked, taking a step forward. Both Killian and Emma stepped closer to the boy at Arthur’s hungry stare. He knew it was Henry.
“Why?! My kingdom is broken, and your heart will make it whole!”
“And you’d kill an innocent boy for your kingdom?!” Emma asked, angrily.
“Please, Arthur,” the woman next to him pleaded. “You don’t need to do this, we can still be happy.”
Killian watched as the madness in Arthur’s gaze eased, his eyes shifting from his queen to Henry. There was something hidden behind his eyes - recognition. A fast blur flew over them and he felt as if they were being watched, a tingle on the back of his neck. Any progress he thought they had made with Arthur seemed to shatter, a shadow shuttering his eyes once more.
“For years, I lived for Merlin’s prophecies!” Arthur shouted. “For years, I was mocked, ridiculed, for believing that I would be king! And when it finally happened, I’m given this, this broken kingdom! But with your heart, I will make it whole! Your heart will make me a king!”
He raised his hand then, the beast standing on four feet, its fire burning bright and angry.
“No more talking, the Heart is mine!”
Without any further warning, the beast leapt forward, its thundering steps unsettling their footing. Henry threw his hands up, a strong magical shield stopping it in its tracks. The shield wouldn’t last long, with the beast charging it again and again.
“What are we going to do?” Killian asked, watching Henry.
“Arthur is controlling the monster,” Emma answered, focused on the creature. “We need to split up.”
“What?”
“Like we did in Arendelle,” Henry added, with obvious difficulty. The strain of holding the shield against the monster’s attacks was wearing on the boy.
“Henry and I will deal with this beast, you’ll get Arthur,” Emma delegated. “On three, Henry will lower the shield, I will hold the creature back while you run to Arthur. Ok?”
Killian nodded. “Be careful, both of you.” His eyes lingered on his companions, hope burgeoning in him for their safety.
“You too,” Henry said, Emma nodding in agreement.
“Alright, one, two, three!”
Henry’s shield came down followed immediately by a blast of white magic from Emma’s hands. The beast was thrown a few feet, letting Killian use that distraction to run towards where Arthur watched the fight. Expectedly, Arthur saw him coming and armed himself in time to block Killian’s attack.
The beast focused back on the magic users. Killian kept an attentive ear on the battle next to him, hoping that he wouldn't hear Emma or Henry get hurt.
Killian and Arthur’s swords clanged in tune with the beast’s growls. Arthur didn’t fight like any royal he’d fought against before but then again, neither did Killian.
“Call off your beast,” Killian grunted, as he managed to lock Arthur’s sword against his. “You won’t win!”
Arthur’s determined gaze spoke louder than any words as they forced each other’s swords.
More than willing to play dirty, Killian kicked at Arthur’s leg, ruining his balance and causing him to fall. While on the floor, Arthur grinned even with Killian’s sword pointed at him. But he wasn’t looking at him. “I disagree.”
Killian’s heart beat louder in his chest as he turned to look at his companions, even knowing how dangerous it was. Turning to them, Killian saw Henry laying down, looking terrified as the beast’s large paws pinned him to the ground. The beast bellowed loudly.
He couldn’t see Emma.
“Henry!” Killian called, turning towards the boy, blind with his need to protect him.
“Not so fast.” Arthur’s smug voice reminded him of his ongoing battle. “We are not done yet.”
He was glad for his years of practice as he managed to side-step a swipe at his head. A white glow and a loud whine had him hoping that Emma had managed to save Henry. Arthur’s angry expression confirmed it.
From then on, his mind was torn. Killian tried to focus on Arthur’s fighting techniques, on learning and avoiding them, but he knew most of his focus was elsewhere.
There was a lull in the magical battle next to him. A million scenarios paraded through his mind and he hated all of them. His sword swipes became faster and more intense and he relished the frown on Arthur’s brow. Their swords locked and he put all his strength behind it.
“Now!” Henry’s shout surprised them both and they turned at the same time.
Killian watched as Henry jumped to the side as Emma used her hands to direct water on top of the beast. Amazingly effective, the fire was extinguished and the beast fell to the ground, breathing heavily.
“No!” Arthur shouted and Killian quickly focused on stopping any thought of intervention by holding his sword against the king’s neck.
Unflinchingly, Henry approached the beast and fumbled with something on his clothing. From where he stood, Killian saw the sparkle of what he assumed was the fairy dust Henry had been gifted fall on the beast.
A blinding light encompassed the large monster. When it was gone, they were all surprised to find a man lying where the beast used to be. A man wearing a knight’s outfit.
“Lancelot!” The queen called from where she had been sitting restlessly before rushing towards the waking man on the floor. “I thought you had left.”
Despite the distance between where he stood and the tender scene in front of him, Killian still heard the relieved sigh of the man. “I could never leave you, Gwen.”
Never had he thought they would be reuniting long-lost lovers with this adventure, but then again, he never thought he’d be in this adventure in the first place.
His eyes immediately found Henry and Emma, who appeared unscathed even if tired. The relieved feeling in his heart was overwhelming, and he couldn’t take his eyes off them. Killian could only look at Henry’s proud and happy expression, at Emma’s hand on the boy’s shoulder, and her own look of joy. It looked simply beautiful on her.
“Killian! Look out!” Henry called loudly and Killian moved just in time to miss Arthur’s swipe at his head. A bright white light threw Arthur against one of the stone columns, rendering him unconscious.
A word of gratitude was stopped on his tongue at Emma’s look of terror and Henry’s matching one. A breeze blew through the courtyard making him aware of a cold sting on his throat. He dropped his sword to touch the left side of his neck. When he looked at his hand, there was an alarming amount of blood on it for a mere scratch.
“Oh.” Killian’s knees wobbled under him as he knelt to the ground. In seconds, Emma and Henry were in front of him.
There was pressure on his neck. Emma’s green eyes came into focus and his heart shattered at the worry and fear in them. He wished they would never look that way.
“Killian?” Henry’s quiet call squeezed his heart. He had promised that Henry wouldn’t feel that way again. “Can’t you heal him, Emma?”
Emma shut her eyes and he mourned the loss. There was only the sound of his labored breathing.
“I can’t!” Emma shouted in frustration. “Come on, Killian, stay with us!”
He wanted to tell her that he wouldn't leave - that he would never leave them - but the pressure on his throat stopped him. Their faces turned blurry and he could feel his mouth open and close, wanting to tell him that it was okay, that all that mattered was that they were okay. That he loved them.
Emma’s face became even more blurry as she shook her head.
“No.” Her voice sounded far away but never more clear. “We are not losing you, not now, not ever.” He felt her deep breath in his own chest.
The warmth on his hand disappeared and Killian watched as Emma grabbed Henry’s hand and placed it over hers on his neck. “We’ll do this together, like we’ve done everything so far. What do you say, kid?”
Killian could hear the desperation in her voice and he wondered if Henry could hear it too. The pressure on his neck grew and he was finally able to take a deep breath.
“Let’s do this.” Henry’s voice was less confident than he no doubt intended, too wrapped in despair, but it didn’t make Killian trust him any less.
There was a sudden burning feeling on his throat and he howled in pain. He felt as though his wound was being cauterized from the inside. There was a tight grip on his arms, barely felt over the pain.
He remembered the way Nemo held his only hand as the blurry face of a shipmate burned his stump. He remembered wanting it to stop, wanting everything to stop, wanting the peace and quiet of death. He remembered the way he held onto revenge when he woke up days later.
This pain, however, he bore it, cherished it, welcomed it because he knew that it would allow him to live. It would allow him to be okay. It would allow him to see Emma and Henry again.
“Killian?”
It did.
His eyes fluttered open to find the worried faces of his companions, his family. Killian only had a second to witness the look of relief and happiness on Henry’s face before the boy threw himself against him in a tight hug, the feeling of holding the boy in his arms better than any magical remedy.
With his arms wrapped around the boy, he finally looked at Emma. There were tears in her eyes but the most beautiful smile on her lips. How he loved her smile.
“You aren’t getting rid of me yet, love.” His voice was hoarse and quieter than he expected but it was worth it for the quiet chuckle she gave.
“Good.”
He felt the warmth of her hand on his face, the light stroke of her thumb on his cheek but all he could see were her eyes. The happiness, the relief, and something else he hoped would be there for a long time to come.
“Is he okay?” A familiar female voice sounded from behind Emma.
She nodded, without taking her eyes off him, a soft smile on her lips. “Yeah, he’s okay.”
Henry’s head lifted from their embrace to smile brightly at the two of them and Killian could only laugh. Laugh at how stupidly happy he was to have met them. The way they joined in his laughter warmed his heart, and reminded him of how happy he was to be alive.
Killian held on to Emma’s arm, sadly staining the white shirt with his blood - not that they cared much - so he could sit up. Henry’s hands were on his arms, a worried frown on his forehead. But Killian only smiled. He was alive, he was okay, he was ready to carry on his life with them. His hand tightened on Emma’s arm as he bumped his forehead with Henry’s.
“Thank you,” he whispered before he moved back to look at the two of them. “Thank you for saving me.”
Henry’s smile was wide, his small body crashing into him for a second time. “Thank you for staying.” The boy’s whisper sounded loud in his ears and he wished he could stay in this moment forever.
A loud scream interrupted them.
They looked towards the source to find the queen with a horrified look on her face as she pointed towards the far side of the courtyard.
“Arthur…” Lancelot whispered with the same expression.
They all turned to see Arthur’s body standing in front of the pillar Emma had thrown him against. That would be alarming all on its own, but the truly shocking part was the fact that his head hung forward, the man still clearly unconscious. The king’s body took stumbling steps towards them, his head lolling from side to side.
As Arthur continued his lumbering approach, Killian noticed a second shadow on the floor. A much less fumbling figure from Arthur’s unstable form.
With Emma’s help, Killian stood from the ground, pulling Henry behind them. From the corner of his eye, he could see Lancelot - even in his weakened state - try to shield his queen.
And then, Arthur stopped.
They watched as his head was thrown back, his whole body following suit and so precariously unbalanced that Killian wondered how he was still on his feet.
A bright gash appeared in the middle of Arthur’s chest without any response from the man, not even a small whimper, even when a hand burst out from the rift. One of the shadows reflected on the ground began to convulse until it disappeared.
“Take her to safety, now!” Emma yelled towards the other two people in the courtyard, forcing Henry further behind them, hoping to block his view.
They heard the urging voice of Lancelot and the frightened voice of the queen before the couple’s rushed footsteps reached their ears.
Their full attention drawn back in front of them once Lancelot and the queen were safely away, they watched as a second hand joined the first, widening the tear in the king’s chest. Killian could only hope he could spare Henry the nightmares that were sure to follow the gruesome scene. It was only moments before a blonde head emerged from the fissure. And then the figure stepped out of the former king’s carcass to stand in front of them, Arthur’s body crumbling to the ground.
“When you want something done, you have to do it yourself.” The surprise guest’s voice was eerily peppy given the macabre scene surrounding them and Killian struggled to keep his jaw from dropping.
He looked only a few years older than Henry, even though his face told of decades of existence and he was dressed in a green outfit that reminded Killian of Emma’s old one. He’d seen him before. Emma gasped.
“Pan…”
“Hello, Duckling.” Pan was grinning and his voice lacked surprise. He knew they would be here. “Didn’t think you’d seen the last of me, did you?”
“H-How is this possible? You can’t leave Neverland!” Emma’s voice trembled. She looked terrified, a panic in her eyes that he’d only seen once before - when they sailed too close to the island aboard the Black Pearl. A lost girl.
“Our dimwitted king helped me with that,” Pan said smugly, pointing towards the body. “His failure gave me enough time to get the Heart of the Truest Believer myself.”
“You’re just as dimwitted if you think we’ll let you take the Heart.” Killian took a step forward, inching himself closer to Emma and covering Henry more.
“Ah, Captain Hook, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” Emma tensed up next to him and Henry placed a questioning hand on his arm but he didn't stop directing his glare towards Pan. “I had expected a bounty hunter like you to have been more interested in the deal I offered.”
“You were wrong.”
“Pan was the one who sent you after me?” Henry’s quiet question pulled his attention off Pan.
“I didn’t know who he was when we spoke.”
“Lucky for you, I’ll give you another chance.” Their eyes followed Pan’s casual pacing, the feeling of prey watching a predator settling on them. “Give me the boy and you can leave. Go back to your life.”
Killian glared at Pan’s knowing and confident grin, as if he knew Killian would take the deal. Henry’s hand tightened on his left arm, and Emma sent him a sidelong glance. But Killian couldn’t take his eyes off Pan.
“And what makes you think I would accept?”
“It’s like you said,” Pan replied with a shrug of his shoulders, “you’re a survivor.”
A shiver ran down his spine. He’d never said that to Pan or anyone else besides Emma. Not for the first time, the feeling came over him that they were being watched.
“I have been watching you three for a while.” Pan’s eerily calm demeanor became even more disturbing. “So, I’m going to sweeten the deal. Give me the boy and I’ll even let you take someone with you. Emma.” His penetrating stare landed on her and a small, utterly depraved and evil smile lifted the corner of his lips before he spoke again. “My sweet duckling. We both know how much you would love that.”
“And if I refuse?”
“I’ll kill you all.”
The demon’s nonchalant attitude as he made the statement made gooseflesh erupt on Killian’s skin, but he just hummed, as if considering the proposal. “That’s an interesting proposition.” His hand tightened on his dagger. “But I’m afraid I’ll have to refuse.”
Killian was grateful for his connection with Emma as his thrown dagger was matched by the whistling of her short arrow. The weapons traveled towards their common enemy, only for a dark blur to stop them.
Pan laughed, a terrible laugh that made his ears ring. “You didn’t really think it would be that easy, did you?”
They didn’t have time to answer before they were being pulled back by the arms. Killian felt the tight grip immobilizing him but when he tried to escape, he couldn’t see anyone. Looking towards where Emma was caught in the same struggle as he was, he noticed a dark shadow behind her, a shadow holding the arms of her shadow. It occurred to him that this might be a battle they wouldn’t be able to win.
Pan approached with slow, confident steps where Henry stood helplessly looking between his two companions. The lad looked scared but Killian’s struggle to escape was useless.
“Get away from the boy!”
“Leave him alone!”
Killian and Emma’s voices were angry but they were laced with desperation.
“You had your chance.” Pan shrugged again with a wide grin. “Now, you’ll get to see me kill the boy. And then, you’ll see me kill my runaway Swan. Only then will I kill you. Nice and slow!”
Killian’s struggle grew more violent as Pan got closer to Henry. From the corner of his eye, he could see Emma was doing the same.
“Why do you want my heart?” Killian could hear the fear in Henry’s voice, but there was bravery in his eyes.
“Have you learned nothing? I want power! I want the power your heart will give me!” Henry had to look up as Pan approached, but he didn’t back down.
There was pride mixed in with Killian’s fear.
“How did you know it was me?”
“I thought you were smarter than that, laddie,” Pan grinned. “A prophecy told me about you, a baby born in a night with no moon or stars. Your parents knew it too, so it took me a long time to find you.”
“You saw my parents?” Henry’s voice was quiet, like the young boy he never got the chance to be. Killian’s frown matched the one on Emma’s face.
“No. But my Lost Ones did, the last ones to see them alive.” Pan’s fake pout had Killian’s hair stand at attention. “But that’s only because they’re the ones who killed them.”
The heartbreak coming from Henry nearly brought Killian to his knees. The boy knew he was an orphan but to hear it spoken of so callously and with so much certainty was the height of cruelty. It was clear Pan was enjoying inflicting this pain on the boy. He was feeding off it.
“They told me your father was the first to go, trapped in the house when my boys set it on fire-”
“Stop it!” Emma shouted.
“But your mother?” Pan continued, ignoring the two adults’ struggle, his grin widening. “She escaped, ran away with you, but she didn’t go far-”
“Don’t listen to him, lad!”
“Your mother abandoned you and ran away. You should be thanking me for having had her killed, she deserved it. We even celebrated!”
“He’s lying, Henry, I remember that night!” Emma’s voice broke through Pan’s sadistic game, bringing it to a screeching halt.
Henry turned to her and Killian saw the tears streaking down his cheeks and his begging eyes. Killian’s struggle intensified.
“Remember your place, Duckling,” Pan warned but she ignored him.
“That was the night I escaped, I remember the screams on the island. They weren’t celebrating,” she explained feverishly, “They had failed.” Her eyes were on the boy, a hint of a smile on her face, a smile meant only for him. “They were after you, but they didn’t find you. She didn’t abandon you and deep down you know that.”
Pan growled and Killian watched as another shadow joined the one behind Emma to pull on her hair. An involuntary whimper of pain escaped her lips even as she tried to stifle it. Henry took a step towards her but she shook her head the best she could to stop him. The boy turned back towards Pan.
“She didn’t abandon me.” Henry spoke clearly and with his head held high. “She protected me from you, she saved me. Your games won’t work on me.”
There was a moment when Pan’s frown marred his young face where Killian foolishly thought they could win, that Henry’s bravery would be enough. But then Pan smiled.
“You’re right, no more games.” His voice was soft and calm but it only unnerved them. “I’ll be clear, give me your heart or they die.”
Pan grinned as he snapped his fingers. A black figure appeared in front of Killian, there was no face, no body, merely the shadow of a person. That’s what it was, a shadow - he’d never seen one up close and he suddenly feared it would be the last thing he would ever see.
Without warning, the shadow grabbed onto his shoulders and began to slowly pull. This pain was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before, including the one he had suffered only moments ago. It felt like his insides were being pulled out of him - as if his very essence was being removed.
His screams of pain were echoed by Emma’s, who was clearly suffering his same fate.
“Run, Henry!” Killian yelled. “You need to run!”
“No! I won’t leave you, I won’t let you die!”
“You need to go, Henry!” Emma urged him between screams of pain.
“No!” Henry unsheathed his dagger to point it at Pan. “Let them go!” Henry looked so frightened, his dagger held in a shaky grip.
“Even if you could kill me, they would still die,” Pan gloated with a shrug. Henry’s arm lowered in defeat. “What’ll it be, Believer? You or them?”
“No!”
“Don’t listen to him!”
“I’m sorry… This is my fault, but I can still save you.”
Time stopped as they watched Henry’s hand shine with a white light before he shoved it into his own chest. They watched as Henry removed a golden heart, his knees wobbling.
“Please, Henry!”
“Don’t do this!”
Henry glanced towards them with a brave and hopeful gaze. “I love you.”
They watched as Henry pushed the golden heart into Pan’s chest before collapsing to the floor. Pan’s victorious laughter surrounded them, but what truly mattered was that suddenly there was nothing restraining them, nothing pulling the life out of them anymore.
Before he could take a proper breath, Killian was kneeling next to Henry’s unconscious body, Emma on the other side. His hand touched the boy’s neck, his chest, hoping for a heartbeat he knew wouldn’t be there. His skin was still warm and Killian remembered another one he loved who laid in his arms the same way.
“Is- Is he dead?” Emma’s voice was quiet and Pan’s laughter grew louder and stronger.
Killian’s mouth opened and closed silently, unable to answer her question, unable to admit the truth they both knew.
“People will do the stupidest things for love,” Pan pouted, a fake mournful tone to his voice.
“You did this!” Emma growled but Killian grabbed her arm, stopping her.
“Actually, he did it to himself,” Pan shrugged, an unconcerned smile on his face. “You saw it, he took out his own heart, but don’t worry, it’s in a safe place.” He patted his chest with a smug grin.
Unable to look at Pan’s face anymore, Killian turned back to the boy. He looked like he was simply asleep, like he would wake at any moment. But Killian knew he wouldn’t. He felt Emma’s anger-fueled grief under his grip as he heard Pan take a deep satisfying breath.
“I finally have the Heart and now the world will be my Neverland!” Pan held out his arms in triumph. “Thank him for me. I’m sure you’ll be seeing him soon enough.”
Killian let go of Emma’s wrist as his hand went to the boy’s chest, feeling the still chest when his own heart was hammering against his. It wasn’t fair.
“Take my heart.” Emma’s words matched his own as they both spoke at the same time, the same expressions on their faces - determination and hope.
Killian glanced towards Pan, hoping the villain was too distracted to stop them. He stood a few feet away focused only on the new power in his chest and the bright golden light of his stolen magic, victorious.
“Emma,” Killian started in a quiet voice. “I promised to return you to your parents. If we’re going to use anyone’s heart, it should be mine.”
Emma shook her head. “No, I won’t take you from his life. You’re too important to him.”
“So are you!”
“I don’t even know if this will work for us and then you will have died for nothing.”
“If it’s to save Henry, it won’t be for nothing.”
They looked at each other, their faces both stubborn and hopeful.
“Together?” she asked, her voice wobbly.
“Emma-”
“We’ve done everything together since we met, Killian. We should do this together, too.”
Killian took a deep breath, focusing on her green eyes. He nodded and the way they brightened with hope was enough for him to nod more vigorously.
“Together.”
Emma laid her hand on his chest, but where there had been confidence, now there was fear. “I’ve never done this before.”
He placed his hand over her wrist. “I believe in you.”
Emma nodded and pushed her hand into his chest. He stifled a grunt of pain when she pulled it back out. He hadn’t expected the surprisingly red heart that she now held in her hand, a small dark blob in the center of it. Maybe he wasn’t as lost as he thought.
The world was dull around them and there was a feeling of emptiness in his chest. He still felt the love for the two people in front of him but it felt muted.
She took a deep breath as she looked between his heart and him before she plunged her own hand inside her chest. With her own groan of pain, she removed her hand, now holding a bright red heart.
“Hmm, I should split them.”
“Aye, that should work.” A weak chuckle made the corner of her lips rise.
Emma placed her heart confidently in his hand. Killian held it reverently as she focused on his. He felt the magic in her fingers, her careful grip, like a warm fire in his chest. Her heart beat fast in his hand and he hoped she felt the same warmth that he felt.
He winced when she finally jerked her hands, successfully splitting his heart. “That was interesting.”
“I’m sorry.” Her eyes were wide in concern.
Killian shook his head. “We need to hurry.”
They traded hearts and he held on to his split heart as Emma focused on hers. He glanced at Pan to see him floating a foot off the ground, hands raised. Killian noticed how the courtyard appeared darker, despite the high sun in the sky. He watched as a couple of shadows already circled Pan’s feet. They really needed to hurry and get out of there.
He heard her whimper and turned to see her holding her halved heart. She quickly placed one half back in her chest, a shiver running down her body as she got used to the feeling.
“Now, you.”
She grabbed one half of his heart and placed it in his chest. It was a strange feeling. It was a relief to be able to feel again, no longer the muted experience of before, but there was still a sense of being incomplete, of something missing.
They looked at each other, an unspoken question between them. He nodded.
He held his breath as Emma joined both halves together, as they stitched themselves to form a complete heart. They took a deep breath when it worked. Their surroundings were darkening and the glowing red heart was like a beacon.
Killian grabbed Emma’s wrist. Their hands holding the constructed heart hovered over Henry’s chest and with a last deep breath, they pushed.
“Fight, my boy.”
“Come back to us.”
It felt like years before Henry took a gasping breath. A powerful wave of multicolored energy passed through them and then they heard it.
“No!”
Pan’s scream caught their attention and they watched as he came back to earth, turned towards them, and began to approach with angry steps before falling to his knees. A bright beacon began to form on his chest and Pan’s screams turned from fury into pain.
They watched, dumbfounded, as Pan burned from the inside out until there was nothing but ash where he once stood. He wouldn’t be missed. They looked up as the midday sun began to shine brightly in the sky again.
“Henry?” Emma called softly, her voice watery.
The boy finally opened his eyes. Glancing between the two adults, he seemed to understand exactly what just happened. His lips curled in a small smile.
“Guess I have another great story to tell, huh?”
Emma let out a startled laugh before she pulled Henry into a tight hug, Killian shaking his head amusedly before joining. They all took a collective breath.
Killian could feel his beating heart echo, feeling twice the love, no longer incomplete. He cupped Henry’s head and placed a kiss on his forehead, completely unconcerned over his wobbly voice.
“We thought we lost you, my boy.”
“But you didn’t lose hope.” Henry smiled before burrowing his face in Emma’s neck.
Emma chuckled, running her fingers through the boy’s hair. “We learned from the best.”
Henry is the first to break the hug but he doesn’t go far, his hands holding each adult’s arm in a tight grip. “I love you.”
Killian shouldn’t have been surprised by the sentiment, considering the great lengths they had all gone for each other in the time they’ve known each other, but it’s still surprising to see someone give their love so instantly, so freely. His heart felt too large for his chest even with its reduced size, but he cherishes it.
Emma’s smile widened and she stroked his face. “We love you, too.”
“You know we do. I’m sure you can feel it.” Killian tapped the boy’s chest with his hook, with a smile.
Henry smiled widely, eyes watering before nodding vigorously and pulling them both close for another hug. Killian can only hope to feel this love everyday for the rest of his life.
“Are you all alright?”
The familiar female voice broke their quiet moment. Not giving up much of their personal space, the three of them turned to see the Queen approaching slowly with a steadier Lancelot, his arm around her shoulders.
Killian took a deep breath. “Aye, and I’m pleased to see you safe and sound as well.”
“We wanted to help, bu-”
“This was our battle,” Emma interrupted Lancelot’s apology with a kind smile. “You two were in no shape to fight.”
“Besides,” Henry turned to them with a smile of his own. “Camelot needs its queen safe and sound.”
Despite the Queen’s smile, they could all see the guilt in the furrow of her brow. “I knew he was obsessed with the prophecy, but I always thought I would have my Arthur back.” She paused for a moment. “I never thought he was so…mad.”
“Gwen,” Lancelot interrupted. “Arthur was lost to us a long time ago. We tried our best to help him, he just wouldn’t listen.”
Killian stood first before he helped Emma and Henry stand next to him. “He’s right, there was nothing any of us could do.”
“Pan is- was a demon, he corrupted whatever good Arthur had in his heart. Like he does to all things.”
Emma’s tone had Killian placing his hand on her arm, Henry leaning back against her in a gesture of comfort.
Gwen nodded, wiping her tears. “Now, Camelot can return to its former glory.”
“With a wonderful Queen to rule it,” Lancelot added with a soft smile.
As Gwen’s cheeks reddened, Killian turned away with an amused smile mimicked by Emma, while Henry watched them with bright eyes. Killian’s eyes found Emma’s and he cherished the reddish hue on her own cheeks.
Gwen cleared her throat hoping to move away from the moment but they noticed the way her hand found Lancelot’s as she did. “We would like to thank you. If there’s anything you need…”
“We wanna know where to find Merlin,” Henry burst out, Killian’s hand on his shoulder doing little to ease his excitement.
The way Gwen and Lancelot looked at each other quickly told Killian and Emma that they wouldn’t find the answers they hoped for there.
“Merlin has never been here.”
“At least, not while we’ve lived here.”
Henry’s silence was deafening and he looked up at his two companions with a worried frown.
Killian sighed as he squeezed the boy’s shoulder in comfort. “Do you know where we can find him?”
Gwen was quiet for a moment. “When we were children, Arthur used to speak to a tree in the kingdom grounds that he believed Merlin had been trapped in. That’s where he was told of the prophecies.”
“When he came into power, he cut down every tree around the castle grounds. So even if Merlin had been here, I suspect he no longer is…”
Killian nodded, trying not to let his frustration show.
“We should carry on our way, then. There’s still a lot we need to do,” Emma answered with a tight smile.
“Are you sure we can’t give you anything? You can rest here, eat.” Gwen frowned.
Killian felt Henry’s questioning stare on his face but ignored it. “We should really get going, but thank you.”
They made quick work of grabbing their things and walked out of the kingdom’s gates under the confused stares of the Queen and her knight. Both Emma and Killian ignored Henry’s confusion until they were a safe distance from the castle. By then, the Camelot people were leaving their houses with questioning gazes and curious questions.
“Why did we leave so fast?” Henry finally asked.
“We don’t know them, lad.”
“They might not have been on Arthur or Pan’s side but there are always dangers around,” Emma added, holding on to Henry’s hand as they made their way through the crowds.
“But they were good people, we could have asked them what they know.”
“We did, and they didn’t know anything, lad. They were victims just like us and they now have to deal with a whole kingdom wanting answers.”
“So where are we supposed to go now?”
Killian and Emma were quiet at that. The truth was they didn’t know. This was the first time they didn’t know where to go. Pan was defeated, that should have been the final piece.
“You don’t know, do you?” Henry asked with a raised eyebrow and a smile creeping up on his face.
“Well,” Emma stuttered, causing Henry to chuckle and Killian to smile. “I know we need to get to Avalon…”
“We just don’t know how to get there,” Killian finished with a teasing smile.
“It’s not like Cygnus is available to give us directions.” Emma gestured towards the bright afternoon sky pointedly.
Henry laughed. They had reached the town proper. They stood in the middle of the emptying market, everyone had followed the news towards the castle, only the merchants left behind, worried over leaving their wares.
“We should find somewhere to wait until evening,” Killian told his companions. It was the only permission Henry needed to begin exploring the market under their watchful eye. “We’ll check for Cygnus then.”
“I agree.” He watched Emma’s smile from the corner of his eye and couldn't help but match it.
They could breathe now. Their journey wasn’t over but they defeated Pan. Henry was alive and so were they. The more he looked at her and the more he heard Henry bombarding questions at the merchants, the happier he was for being with them now, for having made the decision to protect Henry when they first met.
Her eyes found his and his breath hitched in his chest. Their last conversation played through his mind. They hadn’t reached Avalon yet, but after what they just went through, a part of him didn’t want to hold back any longer.
“Emma-”
“Killian-”
They spoke at the same time, pausing to look at each other with a shy smile.
“You go first,” Emma allowed with a nod.
“Emma, I-”
He'd recognise that ship anywhere. The rigging he climbed time and time again, the hull he begged to help clean with Starkey while they flew forty thousand feet in the sky. The ship he tried to escape from so many times. The ship that turned out to be the home he never had.
Nemo would be there. He would be there and so would his disappointed eyes. His anger. At that moment, he felt just like the troubled teen he hadn't been in a long time.
Emma looked at him with expectant and confused eyes as his silence and stupefied expression lasted longer and longer. He looked once more at the ship but saw no familiar faces looking out but that wouldn’t always be true.
“We need to go.”
“What?” Emma frowned, defensiveness taking over.
“Where’s Henry?” Killian looked around. “Henry!” The boy’s dark head of hair quickly turned to where they stood in confusion. “We need to go now.”
“What happened?” Henry asked as he approached. “Is someone after us?”
“Killian Jones!”
The familiar booming voice echoed through the emptied market. Emma turned around first to see an imposing figure in a pristine naval outfit. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the man’s crossed arms. Killian wasn’t sure he could face an expression of sorrow on the face of the man he considered a father.
“I have been looking for you.”
#parent for hire#carolina writes#the actual big villain fight#shtuff happens#tw character death#killian jones#captain hook#emma swan#henry mills#captain swan#captainswan#once upon a time#ouat#captaincobra#captaincobraswan#king arthur#peter pan#cs ff
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October 2020
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Felt a bit nostalgic watching RT shut down…Here are the og faves again for old times sake 💙
#rvb#agent washington#agent Carolina#lavernius tucker#michael j caboose#epsilon#my art rvb#ahhh a lot of feelings…of course I stepped away from rt as a company a long time ago#but RvB is special to me!! it was my first fandom experience ever#and the community here on tumblr specifically was so instrumental to me growing up#I really could not have asked for a better community of artists and writers to grow up in. I know it sounds like platitudes when I say#that everyone was super nice and talented but REALLY. People were so kind to me and somehow I became well known despite#my art and writing and me in general still being immature and hashtag cringe#I found my creative legs and#people would respond to my stuff with walls and walls of support in the tags and we would do exchanges and events every year#I made my first lyric comic and it’s still doing extremely well on YouTube even today!! my dad who passed away recently always loved it#and my favorite RvB writer came out of hibernation to write me a bunch of text wall asks about it#I’ve never had another fandom experience quite like RvB#I still keep in touch with many of my friends from that time period even though we’ve all moved on the other things#these guys will always always have a place in my heart#so long reds and blues….
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Being Bold || S. Jarvis
Author: Sydney / @sydnikov
Pairing: Seth Jarvis / fem!Reader
Word Count: 7.4k
Summary: Seth has a crush on you. A bad one, and he makes it very obvious throughout the years he’s known you, though you’ve still never taken him seriously because of his immaturity and energetic personality. Much to his chagrin, you keep denying him—until one night, scorned by thoughts of your most recent ex who never knew how to touch you right, you give in to Seth’s advances.
Warnings: 18+ smut, unprotected p in v (birth control usage), oral (f receiving), very slight age gap (reader is 2 years older), alcohol mention, alcoholic consumption, minor mention of violence including blood, cursing
A/N: Wow. This one is something (it’s just smut with a small bit of plot don’t mind my dramatics). Here’s the jarvy debauchery as promised ✨ until the next, thanks for the support as always!
*Minors, you are responsible for your own media consumption. That being said, I will not block you for interacting with this fic or my blog, but always be aware of the content you choose to consume and the consequences it can have.
You’ve only seen Seth Jarvis as a kid.
Well, maybe ‘kid’ is too strong of a word to describe the immaturity gap. You’re only two years older than him, but it’s just that how he acts gives you the impression of a boy.
Not a man, but a boy. And it drives Seth absolutely insane.
He first meets you the year he joins the Hurricanes because you’re friends with the social media director (he later finds out you’re close to Lottie, Jesperi’s girlfriend, as well). He remembers the night vividly, what you were wearing, how soft your hand felt against the calluses on his own. How you looked at him, amusement and softness in the smile you flashed him.
Seth was smitten. Still is, actually, because you’re around more than ever. He sees you everywhere. After games, and even just around Raleigh because you live in the area.
He tries asking you out. Numerous times, but much to his chagrin you always turn him down.
“We just met, Seth.” A week after you first shake his hand.
“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” Well, he did. But, in his defense, he’d just broken up with her after he moved.
“I’m too old for you.” That one hurt, because that’s when he finds out you’re only two years older.
Seth is nothing if not persistent, though. He doesn’t give up even after all the rejections. He’s also pretty sure your reluctance is because you think he’s never touched a woman in his life.
Presumptuous, right? Andrei thinks so when Seth tells him after playing Call of Duty for several hours, but he recounts a conversation you had with Lottie (he still owes her and Jesperi a drink for that, actually) after Seth begged her to slide a good word in.
“You’re not into the mustache?” Lottie had giggled, taking a sip of her martini.
You were drinking a whiskey sour, which he knows because he bought it for you but had Lottie say it was from her. Your face burned red, either because of the alcohol or the question, he doesn’t know.
“No, no,” You laughed. “I like mustaches. And a nice stubble. They feel good on the thighs.”
“So what’s the problem? He’s in love with you, basically.”
“Isn’t he, like, I don’t know… Nineteen?” You had drawled, faking indifference while mixing around the olive in your drink with the little straw it came with.
“He’s twenty-two, babe.” She smirked. “Only two years younger.”
Lottie says she thinks you’re just wary of his immaturity. When he tries defending himself, Jesperi reminds him that he scored a goal the other night, pointed at you behind the glass where you sat with Lottie, and then proceeded to griddy.
Word on the street is that you weren’t impressed.
Nonetheless, Seth can’t change his personality for you, as much as he considers it. He thinks the sun rises and sets on you, but if you truly think you’re too good for him then he does have enough self respect to walk away and get over it.
But… He just doesn’t think that’s the case, here. You only seem reluctant—that’s it.
“You can’t force her to sleep with you, Jarvy.” Andrei tells him, breaking him out of his thoughts.
“I know.” He groans, his chin falling into his hand. “What do I do, then?” And truly, he’s run out of ideas. He’s played silly, nice, gentleman… What else is there left for him to do, other than give up?
Seth thinks of your radiant smile, then groans to himself because fuck. He really doesn’t want to give up.
“Give her space?” Andrei suggests. “Have you tried, just… Going away?” He frowns for a moment, trying to think of the right words in English. “Not ‘going away’—”
“Space? You think she just needs space?”
“Well, not too much space—”
“Svechy you're a genius.” Seth interrupts, jumping out of his seat with renown vigor. “I’ll buy you a drink for this, remind me!” And then he’s springing up from the couch, grabbing his keys and sprinting out the front door.
Andrei blinks. Once, twice, then shakes his head with a laugh. He feels like he should warn you, then promptly decides this is not something he wants to get in the middle of.
Seth takes his teammate’s advice to heart, and gives you the space he thinks you need to process his zealous pursuit of you. He can tell it catches you off guard because he’s stopped following you around like a lost puppy, along with all of the antics normally associated with his creative flirting.
In fact, it’s such a sudden change from what you’re used to that it freaks you out. Hurts a little bit, too, because did he just wake up one day disgusted by the thought of you?
You tell yourself you’re disturbed because you miss the attention. It’s been a while since you’ve had a guy foam at the mouth for you, after all, so now that it’s gone you’re just going through withdrawals.
It’s more than that, though, and you won’t admit it to yourself but when you spy him chatting it up with other girls your stomach twists in a way that you know screams trouble.
Maybe it’s because you just ended things with your latest boyfriend - a bore of a man who couldn’t make time for you outside of his work - and the vulnerability of being alone yet again is getting to you.
Is Seth really so bad? You think about him sometimes, when you’re alone in your apartment or even right in front of him. You’ve always had a soft spot for him, sure, but nothing more than friendly affection.
You’re questioning this now, when his attention is no longer being directed at you, because you distinctly remember him getting into a fight with some other player on the ice, and that’s the first time you remember thinking man and not boy.
The team it was against escapes you, but you remember someone getting in Sebastian’s space with a raised arm, and then Seth came flying in with a fist to the opposing player’s face and a lot of colorful words. Your jaw had dropped as the referees tore them apart, his hair dripping with sweat and a cut welling with blood dripping down his forehead.
The moment forces you to think that maybe altogether, his energetic personality, a smile that never leaves his face, and the unwavering loyalty for his friends combined isn’t such a bad thing after all. The revelation leaves you shaking and feeling quite awkward when he’s around, or even just being brought up.
“Do you miss Scott?” Lottie asks you one day when you’re out for lunch at Perry’s - a steakhouse near her apartment in North Hills - referring to your aforementioned ex-boyfriend. Even his name is boring.
You laugh a little, unable to not roll your eyes though your ire isn’t directed at her. “No. I knew it wasn’t going to last when I got into it, anyways.”
“It’s been about two weeks since you broke up with him.” She says, a statement rather than a question. The look on her face tells you she’s trying to go somewhere with this. “Has anyone caught your eye lately? You’re too pretty to be single, you know.”
It’s obvious that Lottie is trying to ask if you’ve reconsidered Seth at all. It’s been the talk of your whole friend group, including the guys, that he’s suddenly stopped in his bold pursuit of you, though none of them think it’s because he’s lost interest.
“I don’t know.” You whine, begrudgingly stabbing a piece of potato with your fork. “I mean, he’s… Seth.”
“Seth, who has spent his entire time on the Hurricanes trying to win you over?” She says with a raised brow. “Just because he’s had his fun doesn’t mean he’s a bad guy.”
You don’t have a response to that, so instead you just nod. She is right, as much as you hate to admit it. Seth is a successful professional hockey player in his prime, of course he’s been with his fair share of women and will continue to do so as long as he’s single.
If that was your case you’d certainly be having fun, too.
“If his casualness towards dating really bothers you, you should just talk to him.” Lottie says after a moment. “He’s dying for you to speak to him, I swear it.”
You concede. “I’ll talk to him the next time I see him.”
Fortunately for you, that ‘next time’ doesn’t happen for quite a few more weeks, and when you do finally run into him again it’s when you’re slightly tipsy, drinking at a bar near to PNC Arena after the boys have won a game.
You don’t even take note of his presence at first, in the middle of gossiping with some of your friends who just so happen to know the players.
The gossip? Your ex-boyfriend, Scott, and his inability to make you come.
“I mean, he wasn’t bad or anything.” You say. “He had all the knowledge and stuff, just, like, couldn’t do anything. Y’know?” You’re slurring your words a little bit, but everyone around you nods like you’re making some big, important speech.
“So did you have to fake it?” Someone asks. You can’t even remember how Scott was brought up in the first place.
You giggle; you can’t help it. “Oh my god, yes, sometimes it was so bad I had to say I was cramping just to get him to stop trying.” That sends everyone into boisterous laughter, and in your slight drunkenness you can’t help but join in.
The song changes then, and it must be one everyone knows because it scatters you and the rest of the girls into smaller groups, some running to the dance floor while others wander back to the bar. You stay seated, however, content to watch as you sip your drink.
“Whiskey sour?” That’s when Seth makes his presence known. His voice murmured in your ear catches you off guard, and you jump a little as you turn to face him. “Seth.” You greet, not unkindly. “Yeah, but it’s only my second.”
Just as soon as he appeared, he’s jumping back up from his seat next to you. “I’ll get you a third.” You don’t have time to protest as he disappears, and your affection for this rambunctious man only continues to grow as he bounds back moments later, sliding you your drink with a smug grin.
“Thank you.” You smile, a little shy, a little bashful, as you take your first sip. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Anything for my girl.” Ah, there it is. You’re unable to hide the obvious roll of your eyes, but Seth’s smile doesn’t waver. “Not your girl, Seth. Just got out of a relationship, remember?”
“Oh, yeah.” He says. “Scott, right? Sounds like that was doomed from the start.”
You narrow your eyes, unsure of the knowing tone he’s taken on. “And how would you know?”
“He couldn’t make you come, yeah? What a tool.”
Suddenly, your throat is very dry, and you’re taking a very large sip of whiskey that has you wincing. So… He heard you say that, then. Is it hot in here? You have the sudden urge to fan yourself. Fuck fuck fuck. Seth, of all people, should not be making your thighs clench.
You don’t realize how silent you’ve gotten until he speaks up again. “I could make you, you know.”
That has you choking, and you quickly throw back the rest of your drink to soothe your throat. “What?” When you finally meet Seth’s eyes, he’s still grinning at you, though it’s more carnal. His eyes darken as he responds.
“Come. I could get you to come so hard you wouldn’t be able to walk the next day.”
Your reply is meek, knowing deep down inside you’re fighting a losing battle. “Have you even touched a girl before?” He scoffs, and you know as well as he does that he’s been with his fair share of women. It’s one of the reasons you’re so hesitant to take him seriously.
Seth is undeterred, though, as he slides even closer to you. You stare straight ahead, determined not to meet his eyes even though you’re positive there’s a red flush creeping up your neck as his breath tickles your ear.
He says your name, a low purr that’s almost mocking like he can see right through your bullshit because finally, he’s breaking through to you. “You know I have. None of them are you, though.”
You squirm in your seat as his hand creeps up your shoulders, grasping the back of your neck as he gently turns your head to face him. He squeezes reassuringly, and now you’re melting into his embrace as a gasp falls from your lips.
“I want you. You know that, baby.”
“Seth…”
“Let me show you, please?” Then those warm eyes are bearing into your own, and now you’re getting a glimpse of the boy you first met all over again. This time, though, instead of feeling innocent affection all you feel now is heat.
You were stupid to think the adoration he never hesitates to show for you wouldn’t win you over eventually.
Blinking owlishly, you move one of your hands to grip his arm, looking so dainty against the rugged muscle under his skin, and, well. You cave.
“Okay.”
Seth doesn’t expect you to give in so easily. He freezes, doesn’t move until you gain your wits back and pinch his thigh with a gentle roll of your eyes. “Are you just going to sit there or should I find someone else to entertain me?”
That gets him moving. It’s his turn to look anxious as he runs a hand through his hair, still processing the fact that he didn’t have to convince you more. He wasn’t actually expecting to get this far with you—quite literally, the woman of his dreams.
“Shit, okay.” He laughs, jumping out of his seat and lacing his fingers with yours. “You’re serious, then.”
“Somehow.” You deadpan. Somehow your legs are still clenching and your heart is beating a little too fast to be normal. “Don’t fuck it up.”
He looks to you, a little terrified, and you can’t help but break the irritated front and send him a small smile, squeezing his hand reassuringly even as your words are all snark. Truthfully, you’re also scared, but not of the sex, but rather the developing feelings that might grow deeper afterwards.
You just got out of yet another disappointing relationship. You don’t want whatever this is with Seth to end with the same result.
He does a good job of distracting you from your destructive thoughts, though, as he pulls you out of the bar like two teenagers trying to sneak away from their parents. You suppose it’s not unlike that same feeling because Jesperi catches your eye as you exit the doors, and he sends you such a shit-eating grin it has you ducking your head to avoid his obnoxious stare.
You suppose you do owe him a favor now after all.
For the first time ever, standing outside in the biting cold, Seth kisses you as you’re waiting for an Uber. You being busy trying to look like you’re not about to go hook up, he suddenly grabs you by the waist and smooths his lips against yours so good your toes curl.
“Fuck.” He murmurs into your mouth. “I can’t get enough of you.” His teeth catch your bottom lip, and you unabashedly moan. You run your hands up his chest, around his shoulders, and to the back of his neck where you card your fingers through thick strands of hair, tugging from the roots.
“Seth…” You gasp when he detaches his lips from your own only for him to smooth down your jawline, then down to your neck where he sucks wet kisses into your sensitive skin. “Fuck, we’re in public.” With a hiss, you pull him away from your neck and pointedly ignore the wetness in your panties when he groans at the loss of contact.
He looks at you like a baby getting its favorite toy taken away, and you can’t ignore how his desperation turns you on wildly. It takes everything in you to not let him go back to feasting on your neck.
“When’s the Uber getting here?” You ask after a moment. You’re both panting, tipsy from the taste of each other’s lips as you try to catch your breath.
Seth pulls out his phone, and as you admire the way the light illuminates his face you completely miss the words coming from his mouth.
You flush. “Say that again?” Seth grins wickedly, brings you in by the back of your neck and kisses you, then pulls away too soon for your liking. “The Uber. It’s right here.” He then wraps an arm around your waist, digging his fingers deliciously into your skin, and leads you into the Uber as it arrives right on time.
He rattles off his address to the driver, then settles back into the seats. His arm snakes around your shoulders, and you hum your appreciation as you sink into his chest. You feel him kiss the top of your head in response.
You could fall asleep, if you really wanted to. The sudden switch in mood from carnal desperation to gentle affection would give you whiplash if you weren’t so at ease resting against him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
The drive passes fairly quickly, and Seth doesn’t stop touching you as you make your way up the elevator to his apartment. His hand sneaks to your ass, giving it a squeeze before you slap his arm away.
“Cameras!” You hiss, though it’s with little mirth as a small smile curves up your lips. Seth merely laughs, slides his hand back down to rest on your lower back. “They don’t care. Now c’mere.”
You make out until you can’t breathe, and as you pull away it’s just in time as the elevator doors open. Your heart rate picks up, and you hide your nerves as he grabs your hand and practically sprints out of the elevator with you.
“We have all night, you know.” You giggle, absentmindedly rubbing your thumb over the top of his hand. Seth groans playfully, but his words strike you as serious even as he masks it with a grin.
“Not long enough, babe.”
You don’t respond, partly because you don’t know how to and partly because he’s just unlocked his door, and you’re too busy taking in his apartment. You’ve been to Andrei’s house numerous times, Jesperi and Lottie's apartment, Jordan’s for his famous house parties… It’s just now that you’re realizing you don’t actually know Seth all that well.
What you do know, though, is that he’s eyeing you like he can’t wait to devour you, and the reminder that you don’t even know his favorite color exits your mind as you sidle up to his chest, grabbing him by the lapels of his suit to drag his lips down to yours.
“Time to impress me, lover boy.” You hum into his mouth, fighting a shiver when he nips at your bottom lip. Seth chuckles, one of his hands sliding down your back to squeeze your ass, the other tugging your hair back to expose your neck.
He kisses your cheek once, twice, mouths at your collarbone with teasing bites that have your eyes fluttering shut, and then it’s like he loses patience as suddenly his hands are picking you up by your thighs and curling your legs around his waist.
You squeak in surprise. “Seth!” You admonish, because of course it turns you on that he’s able to throw you around effortlessly. He seems to have that effect on you.
Seth maneuvers the two of you through his darkened apartment with ease, knowing the route to his bedroom like the back of his hand. Your attempts at distracting him include sucking a bright red hickey on his neck, fully intending it for it to be bright enough that his teammates give him hell for it the next day.
Once he pushes open the door with his foot, he brings you to the foot of his bed and unceremoniously drops you. You scoff with indignation at his manhandling, though you know he knows you like it if the smirk on his face is anything to go by.
A tiger stalking its prey, Seth crawls on top of you and meets your eager lips in another kiss. His hands smooth down the curves of your hips to your thighs, slowly spreading them open. He mumbles something, and you miss it completely.
“Hm?” You run your hands through his hair, enjoying the way the black strands are moussed from your touch. Your shirt is also already halfway up your torso as he helps you tear it off. “I said I’ll wear your marks proudly. My girl.” He coos, flicking open the clasp of your bra and immediately moving down to your chest.
“Fuck.” He groans. “They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.” Your laugh quickly turns to a gasp as he sucks your right nipple into his mouth.
Your other nipple is taken by his fore-finger and thumb, rolling the sensitive nub between the calloused pads. Between him sucking on one tit and playing with the other, you’re practically a whimpering mess, trying to simultaneously wiggle out of his grip yet get closer at the same time.
“Seth,” You whine. “I need you.” You’re admitting it openly, foregoing coyness in favor of your own pleasure. Yeah, so what? You like this overgrown puppy of a man, and you really want to fuck him. Pulling his head back by his hair, you eagerly slam your lips back together.
“Need me?” He grins against your lips. “Where do you need me? Gotta be specific, babe, because I can be here,” He emphasizes a quick squeeze to your tit. “Here,” The other hand smooths over your ass. “Or here...” He trails off into a low rumble, parting your eager thighs.
Based on the tortured groan he lets out, you assume he can probably feel the wetness that’s soaked through your jeans. You’re too turned on to be embarrassed, though.
“Damn it, Seth, just touch me.” You hiss, keeping his hand pressed between your thighs while the other is already working open the button of your jeans. “Fucking tease.” You mutter, though it’s light-hearted and he knows it based on his snicker.
He helps you peel off the rest of your jeans, throwing them somewhere behind you. It’ll be fun trying to hunt for those in the morning. When he sees the dainty white lace covering your pussy, he lets out his most needy sound yet.
“Shit.” He breathes. “Wore these for me? So pretty. My pretty baby.” He murmurs as he thumbs the lace, running two fingers over the soaked fabric. If you could see, you’d guarantee his pupils are blown wide.
Your hips rise at the friction, wanting more. And because you’re still hellbent on resisting him, apparently, you roll your eyes, spitting out your next words. “You knew I was coming home with you, didn’t you? Asshole.” Though your words are all snark, your tone screams laughter.
Strangely enough, the banter gets you off more than any dirty talk in the world. It’s familiar, relaxing, and Seth clearly doesn’t mind either as he merely chuckles. “I just know you that well, don't I?” The look on his face offers no room for argument.
And, well, you suppose he isn’t wrong. You are here in his bed at the end of the day, right?
You grumble something that to his ears sounds like ‘shut up’ and then you’re sliding your panties down your thighs, letting him take care of the rest as, like your other clothes, he tosses them somewhere behind him.
If you thought the sight of your covered pussy would get the best reaction from him, it’s nothing compared to the way his entire body freezes at seeing it bare.
You’d had a feeling something big was going to happen after Lottie's sly words, so you took the liberty of shaving everywhere just two nights before. You’re glad for that, as Seth is looking at the heat between your legs like he doesn’t know where to start.
Teasing him in a normal setting about not knowing how to touch a woman is one thing, but making a remark now as anxious anticipation is all over his face just feels wrong.
You do like him, after all—quite a bit, you’re coming to find.
Reaching out your hand, you wait for him to grasp it before you pull him down to hover over your awaiting form. “C’mere, baby.” The pet-name slips without thought, but you can’t make yourself regret it because the way his face lights up is a look you won’t forget any time soon.
He laughs a little as your eyes finally meet, like he can’t believe he’s actually about to fuck you and you’re going to let him. “Tell me how to touch you?” He asks, not a demand but more of a request.
Taking his right hand, you lead him down the length of your body, over your breasts and down your stomach until your hands are resting just below your navel. “You know how to find the clit?” You tease, partly joking and partly serious.
Seth scoffs like the very thought offends him, and the mild dig does its job of making him forget his earlier nervousness.
“Of course I know where the fucking clit is,” He replies, pointer and middle finger already sliding down and gathering the slickness lathered in your lower lips. “Scott is such a dumbass.”
Well, it seems the familiar, cocky Seth is back now.
“...didn’t even realize what a bombshell he had right in front of him.” You miss the first part of his sentence because he did, in fact, find your clit, and unlike your ex, knows exactly how to touch it.
Your mouth opens into an ‘o’, and Seth hums a pleased noise as his fingers work your sensitive clit into a swollen, throbbing mess. Your hips move in time with the flicks of his fingers and you don’t even realize you’re panting until Seth leans forward and licks a stripe all the way from your navel down to your soaked opening.
When you start bucking into his mouth, he grabs your hips and holds them down to the bed, forcing you to take it. You whine, hands finding purchase in his hair as his tongue laps at you like you’re his favorite meal. He dips into your entrance in time with the quick circles he’s drawing over your clit, and oh, suddenly you’re much closer than you thought.
“Tastes so good.” You hear him grunt. “Can’t get enough of you.”
“Seth,” Gasping, you can’t decide if you want to keep him close or shove him away. “Shit. Seth, fuck, I’m close.”
“Yeah? Already?” Your confession only seems to reinvigorate his efforts, and the next thing you know two long fingers are sliding their way into your cunt. “Gonna come for me?”
Quicker than you expect he finds the sensitive wall of flesh inside you, and his fingers curl up against it which sends you keening. Loudly. You slap a hand over your mouth, but Seth quickly tears it away.
“Nobody here but me and you.” He grins, and just to rub it in, presses a hot kiss to your clit. “I wanna hear you scream.”
“What a gentleman.” You manage to squeeze out, and in revenge for your snark he immediately sucks your clit between his lips and rapidly curls his fingers inside you.
Seth watches with hooded eyes as your own squeeze shut, teeth biting into your kiss-swollen lips while your hands tug at his hair. Your thighs are shaking on each side of his head, and suddenly he wants you to come for him like his life depends on it.
“You gonna come?” He asks. Your walls clamp around his fingers and he knows you’re close. “Yeah? Can you come for me? I know you want to.”
Your entire body shakes all while he keeps you tethered to the bed. Your mind, though, is floating, and you can practically see white as his lips don’t stop sucking, his fingers don’t stop curling, and it’s too much but also not enough and you want to shove him away yet demand he never stops touching you.
And your high is right there, you can practically taste it, but your body is wound so tight and you can’t remember the last time you’ve let go that you remain stuck right on the edge.
There are tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as you tug at his hair. Seth meets your eyes, looks a little concerned after reading the desperation on your face, and then understands when a broken moan tumbles past your lips.
Seth, a little shit as always, brings you back to the edge with his words alone. “It’s been so long, hasn’t it?” He slips in a third finger. “Bet you haven’t had anyone make you feel like this. Just me. Hopefully always me.”
“Seth,” You croak. “Please.”
“I’ve got you.” He urges. “Let go for me. You’re right there, I know it. You’re so tight, fuck, there you go.”
His mocking words echo in your mind with the low drawl of his voice, dark eyes staring at you like you’re a feast, and his damn fingers curling just right against your spongy wall.
His free hand suddenly moves, presses down over your lower abdomen, and oh. “Such a good girl.” Seth croons as you fall apart.
It’s the last thing you hear as your vision goes white, and the heat in your body explodes with wave after wave of ecstasy pumping from the tips of your toes all the way to the hair on your head. Your eyes squeeze shut, and you’re pretty sure you’re making some sort of strangled noise as you ride your high that seems to go on forever.
By the time you come back, your legs are still shaking and Seth is still gently stroking your inner walls with careful circles around your clit. He's my gazing up at you with pure, unbridled adoration and the emotion in his eyes makes your heart thump.
You don’t even realize your fingers are still tangled in his hair until you have to let go because they’re cramping, and then Seth finally removes his fingers and slowly crawls back up your body.
You’re still catching your breath when he presses a long, soft kiss to your lips. “How was that?” He questions almost shyly. His need for reassurance might have had a past you rolling your eyes, but right now all you want to do is hold him and thank him for making you feel so good.
Especially after Scott. Asshole.
You shudder, clit still throbbing as you wrap your arms around his heavy shoulders and bring his weight down on top of you. His very hard cock brushes against your hip with the movement, and you’re reminded that he hasn’t had any semblance of relief yet.
“Thank you.” You whisper. It’s definitely weird to thank someone after they eat you out, right? Probably, but you don’t really care.
His lips brush against your cheek in response, heart swelling at the gentle vulnerability you’re showing him. He’s planning on running to the bathroom to get you a towel, but freezes when he feels your hands peeling off the suit he totally forgot he was wearing.
“Babe?” He mumbles, a little confusingly, but all you do is kiss him and that shuts him up. He doesn’t break contact even as he shrugs off the rest of his suit, peeling off his undershirt until he’s more than halfway bare. Your hands carve lines over the hard planes of muscle on his chest, scratching lightly with your nails over his nipples which has him flinching into your mouth. Snickering, you make your way down the rest of his chest, past his waist, under his boxers, and then you’re wrapping your hand around his hot, pulsating dick.
Seth groans, almost collapsing on top of you as you squeeze lightly. It’s a dream come true, him touching you and now you touching him. He wants to close his eyes at the feeling of your gentle strokes, but he insists on keeping them open to watch the enraptured look on your face.
Then your other hand moves, unbuttoning his slacks and sliding them over his hips and that’s when he jerks back to the present. “Sweetheart,” He gasps. “You… You don’t have to.”
You smile at his breathlessness. “You don’t want to fuck me?” You pout, though it quickly turns back into a grin when his eyes widen in panic. Another day you’d blow him, when you aren’t so desperate to get him inside you.
Seth briefly removed himself from on top of you to lean over his bed, rifling through his nightstand drawer. You assume he’s looking for a condom and that his efforts fail when he eventually closes the drawer with a curse.
He looks back to you, all messy hair, swollen lips, and glistening eyes. “I don’t have a condom.” He informs regretfully.
“I’m on the pill, if you’re…” You trail off, unsure. “If you’re okay with that. And I’m clean.”
“Hell yes I’m okay with that.” He breathes. His cock hardens even more at the thought of feeling you raw, if even possible. “I’m clean too.” And then he’s kissing you again, long and slow and deep, and you’re happy to let him take the lead as your brain is still trying to play catch-up from your orgasm.
Seth eventually breaks away only to reattach to your neck, nipping at the skin likely already covered in his marks, hands now making their way back down your body. He playfully flicks your nipple as he does so, grins when you flinch upwards.
“Have I told you how much I love your body?” He says in-between kisses, almost like an afterthought. He’s in the middle of spreading your thighs open, fingers slipping through your leftover wetness and brushing your clit when you respond.
You help in his endeavors, raising your legs to curl over his hips as he situates himself on top of you. “You’ve mentioned it a few times, I think.” You reply, breath hitching when his cock presses against you.
“It’s perfect.” He continues, like he didn’t even hear you. “You’re perfect.” He wraps his hand around his dick, guides the head to your entrance and pushes in. All words escape you, and your head falls back with a moan.
He sinks into you with a pleasurable sound of his own, eyes squeezing shut as your warmth envelops him. Sucking in a breath through his teeth, he thrusts slowly into you, bottoming out. “So tight.” He hisses.
“Oh, fuck,” You whimper, digging your nails into his back. Seth stills, thinking he's hurting you. “Shit, am I—”
“Don’t you dare stop.” You quickly interrupt, crying out when his tip rubs against your sensitive inner walls just right. Seth relaxes at your words, a cocky grin spreading over his face. “Sorry, sorry.” He chuckles, picking up the speed of his thrusts.
Like before when his tongue was in you, it doesn’t take you long before noises are escaping your throat uncontrollably or for your legs to tremble from where they’re wrapped around his waist. The sensations are more because you’re already so sensitive, so strung-up, and so eager for another release that you give up any pretenses of trying to play cool.
Your head lolls back onto the bed, all strength leaving your body as Seth happily does all the work on top. Quick, short pants are coming from his mouth, and his chest is heavy where it presses down against yours. With every thrust his pelvis is rocking into your clit, sending sparks up your body as you clench rhythmically around his cock. It’s burning you from the inside-out in the best way possible, and very quickly you’re already approaching the edge.
You try to express your impending release, but all that’s able to come from your mouth is one long moan. Seth, somehow, knows exactly what that noise means, and is suddenly pulling out. “What the fuck?” You practically shout with indignation, glaring at the man on top of you with squinted eyes.
Ever the comedian, he only laughs at your irritation. “Hold on, bear with me.” His hands grab your waist, then rolls you over onto your stomach. He raises your hips, pushing down on your lower back into an arch, and all previous complaints leave you as he’s unable to help himself and runs his hands over your ass.
You’ll think later on why him being unfazed with your attitude makes your heart warm.
“Spread your legs for me.” He murmurs, tapping at the junction between your thighs. You do as he says, and shiver when his fingers go to part your cunt once you’re open. You can’t see his face, but imagine the look on it to be one of enrapturement. You turn your head finally, pressing your hips down onto his hand where it remains touching you.
Your earlier guess was right; his pupils are blown wide, jaw hung open just a little bit at having this view of you from behind. Meeting his eyes, you stare imploringly.
While the sudden need for him scares you, you don’t shy away. Rather, you meet his desires head-on in the form of pushing your hips back against him when he finally pushes in, smothering a whimper as his body looms over yours.
Neither of you talk in favor of letting your pleasure speak for you. The new position feels more intimate, oddly enough; his chest presses onto you from every angle, and you can feel his breath every time he pants into your ear. At the same time his arms are wrapped around your waist, hands kneading at the flesh of your hips while he thrusts into you from behind.
All too soon you’re reaching your peak just like before, and the buildup feels so sweet because he’s hitting you deeper, unrelenting in his thrusts despite how your arms collapse from underneath you. Seth doesn’t flinch, merely picks you back up and presses a hand to your abdomen to keep you there.
With your arms free, you realize that your clit is feeling neglected, and as you sneak your right hand in-between your legs he’s suddenly beating you to it, slapping your own hand away and replacing it with his own.
When it’s all said and done, you don’t think you’ll ever forget the feeling of his fingers circling your sensitive nub so deliciously. Between his dick rutting into your sweet spot mercilessly and the rough pads of fingers stimulating your clit, your eyes are slamming shut with your mouth opening in a silent scream as for the second time that night, Seth is sending you into release.
He carries you through it with noncommittal praise while you’re lost in white noise and starry vision. The sight of you crumbling beneath him sends sparks throughout his body, and it doesn’t take long between the rhythmic clenching of your cunt and the pleasured sounds falling from your lips for him to flood your insides with his cum.
“Oh, fuck—fuck, fuck, fuck.” Seth loses any semblance of restraint of trying to be gentle, as his last thrusts rattle your frame and have you whimpering by the time he’s done releasing, your overstimulated clit throbbing in time with the slow rocks of your calming bodies. “So good. You did so good, yeah?” Seth is rumbling into your ear, voice hoarse and tired as he carefully slides out of you. Eyes still closed, you flinch at your sensitivity. “Sorry, babe.” He whispers, having to regroup for a moment as his softening cock meets cool air after being buried inside you.
You attempt to speak, but the only sound that leaves your mouth is a groan as your aching limbs stretch. You don’t bother opening your eyes yet, either, perfectly content to lay in your post-orgasmic pleasure and not think about the future.
Seth doesn’t let you wallow for long, however, as he’s suddenly leaning over you again. “Can you turn over? I have a towel, it’s warm.” He asks, back to shy and unsure. Now that you’re not caught up in the throes of sex, he’s not quite sure how you’re going to act. “You also need to go pee.”
Your default moods of snarky and mildly irritated is what he gets. “No.” You grumble, though it’s not mean as you bury your head in his pillow, still flat on your stomach. Having no energy to move, you don’t expect Seth to do anything about it, either.
He raises a brow at your sass, not quite sure if he should be relieved or concerned. Huffing, he makes a grab for your hips. “Guess I’m carrying you to the bathroom, then.”
“Seth!” You shriek as he attempts to manhandle you, a burst of energy fueling your efforts in trying to get away. “You little shit, no, fine, fine!” And Seth wins just like that, as you concede the battle and roll from your stomach onto your back. You glare as he leans over your torso, bringing the towel down to clean up the mess in-between your thighs.
His confidence comes back, little by little, as the banter returns naturally and your dynamic doesn’t change despite indulging in your bodies’ most primal desires. “You’ll thank me in the morning.” He grins when he finishes, sliding off the bed to bring it back to the bathroom. You follow, doing your business so quickly you leave before he’s done with his own.
When he comes back you’re in the same position he left you in, like you never left. “So I’m staying the night, then?” You prompt as he goes to sit next to you, a little teasing, a little serious. Where do you stand with him now?
He shrugs, masking his nervousness. “If you want to.” He sinks his teeth into his lip, eyeing you from where he sits. He can’t tell what you’re thinking, and it slightly unnerves him.
Your mysteriousness is also what captivated him about you in the first place too, though. With that, he realizes he wouldn’t have gotten this far if you hadn’t liked him at least a little bit. Taking a deep breath, he takes the bold route, grabs your hand, and does what he does best:
Be bold.
“I want you to stay though, like, really badly.” He admits, meeting your curious eyes. You suck in a breath at his words, and Seth continues. “You know I like you. A lot. And I think you like me too.”
As if knowing he’s waiting for your reassurance, you reply quietly. “A little presumptuous of you, yeah?”
Seth grins, and you can’t help but wonder how you were able to resist it for so long.
“So… You’ll stay?” He tilts his head, reminding you of a puppy. You go to respond, maybe with another sarcastic reply, and he seems to know this even before you do. “Please?”
And, well, you can’t deny him when he’s looking at you like that; soft, brown eyes full of adoration gazing at you like you’ve hung the stars and the moon. “Okay.” You relent, grinning happily as he mouths something like ‘fuck yeah’ and rolls over next to you.
“Do you want to shower?” He suddenly asks, after you’ve already curled underneath his sheets with your body pressed against his. He makes a nice furnace, and you’re mad at yourself for not indulging in him sooner. “Because I have a big one. It has these jets that spray from different angles, and you can go alone or I can join or—”
“Seth.” You interrupt, poking his chest to get his attention. He gulps at the amused expression on your face. “Stop talking.”
“Okay.”
It’s silent for several minutes, and you’re almost asleep until he speaks up again.
“Can I be your boyfriend now?”
“Oh my god.” You hiss. “If I say yes will you let me go to sleep?”
You can’t see his face but you know for a fact there’s a stupid grin on it. “You know, I think you’re gonna fall in love with me one day.”
“Keep dreaming, babe.” You say.
But you both know he won’t be dreaming for long.
A/N: I like this one a lot tbh. But my lord I didn't realize how repetitive writing smut is so I need to have at least a little plot established before I can just jump into it 😭 regardless, I hope this is everything y’all wanted in terms of me writing for him and more! Please be sure to reblog and comment, thank youuuuu
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Independência
Charlie sai da casa dos pais. De novo
>> Independência <<
Charlie achou que a parte complicada de sair da casa dos pais seria lidar com os pais.
Não que eles fossem superprotetores nem sufocantes, aliás era nada menos que um milagre considerando a escolha de carreira deles. Bom, a escolha de carreira da mãe e a escolha de atividade não remunerada do pai. Mas isso não importa.
Charlie achou que eles iam reagir mais ou menos como foi antes, quando ela saiu de casa da primeira vez. Bob tinha checado o apartamento de cabo a rabo quase que com lupa. Lee tinha insistido pra Charlie levar quase metade da casa junto, ainda que Charlie achasse que não ia precisar de pelo menos uns 70% daquilo. O apartamento ser uma caixinha de fósforo foi uma ótima desculpa pra não levar o monte de coisa extra.
Dessa vez, eles acreditaram quando Ben disse que tava tudo certo. Pra ser justa, era a opinião profissional dele, então era pra acreditar mesmo. Lee não tentando convencer Charlie a encaixotar metade do planeta pra levar junto. Ela só disse pra pegar o que quisesse da dispensa e estava (majoritariamente) de boas com o que a filha tinha empacotado.
A parte complicada era fazer as caixas caberem na mala do carro do Ben. O jeito a la Charlie de resolver isso podia ser resumido em “me arruma um martelo maior”, mas a caixa de livros não tava com cara de quem ia ceder. Se bobear, Gray e os dois volumes do Harrison tavam é rindo da cara dela.
“Sem querer jogar na cara, mas tem motivo pra você ser a médica e eu, o arquiteto.” Ben sacudiu a cabeça “Dá isso aqui.” Ele estendeu as mãos pra pegar a caixa.
“É física.” Charlie entregou-a “Dois corpos não podem ocupar o mesmo lugar no espaço.”
Ben sorriu de lado e arqueou uma sobrancelha.
“Seguinte: se você encaixar isso sem usar mais força do que eu, te dou batata frita extra.”
“Beleza.” Ele sorriu como o gato que tava pra pegar o canário. Ben deixou a caixa no chão e avaliou a mala. Tirou umas coisas, rearrumou outras e voila “Nada de batata fria.”
“Criatura insuportável.” Charlie revirou os olhos.
“Aqui.” Lee veio arrastando uma mala média e entregou para Charlie.
“Que isso?” ela olhou pra mala e de volta pra mãe.
“A gente não é depósito. Se é teu, vai contigo.” Lee levantou as mãos.
“Mas eu tenho que ficar com isso por mais dois anos!” Charlie reclamou.
“Azar, minha flor.” Ela disse a Charlie “Enfia isso aí em algum lugar.” Ela apontou a mala olhando pra Ben.
“Não.” Charlie esticou o indicador para o irmão “Mãe, eu não uso isso.”
“Pois é, eu tô chocada que a minha filha não opera usando vestido de festa.” Lee respondeu “Preparada pra tudo. É o lema da família.” Ela abanou a mão num ‘deixa pra lá’ e entrou em casa.
“A Vovó disse que é sabedoria e honra!” Charlie retrucou.
“É sábio estar preparada!” Lee devolveu já a distância.
“Então, eu acho que você vai levar isso?” Ben apontou pra mala.
“Não seria assim uma perda irreparável se essa mala caísse pelo caminho, sabe.”
Ben riu sacodindo a cabeça e acomodou a mala no carro.
“Acho que você tá pronto pra ir. Eu vou dar uma última olhada e qualquer coisa, ponho no carro do papai.”
“Vai você. Eu vou ajudar ele com a mobília.” Ele entregou as chaves do carro.
“É uma cama e uma cômoda. Ele precisa mesmo de ajuda?”
“Papai acha que tem quarenta, mas tem sessenta e quatro.” Ben avisou.
“Você passa mais tempo com ele do que eu.” Charlie levantou as mãos em rendição.
“É sério, nada de batatinha fria.”
.
Nic empurrou a porta com o quadril enquanto carregava duas caixas empilhadas pra dentro do apartamento novo, “Você marcou as caixas direito?”
“Sim.” Charlie empurrou uma pilha de malas pra dentro.
“Você tem alguma coisa que não seja livro ou roupa?” Nic deixou cada caixa no cômodo que deveria, segundo as etiquetas.
“Tem uma caixa marcada como banheiro.”
Nic botou a cabeça pra dentro do quarto “E como você vai viver só com roupas, livros e um vidro de xampu?”
“Ah, qual é. Não tô nesse estado todo de penúria.” Charlie deixou as bolsas no canto e olhou em volta. O lugar parecia bem melhor depois da faxina que ela e Nic deram de manhã. A luz do sol entrava pelas janelas, o armário do outro lado do quarto tinha um bom tamanho. As paredes brancas eram bem sem graça, mas isso era um problema pra depois.
“Eu ainda não vi nenhuma caixa marcada como cozinha.” Nic observou.
“Oliver e Lyla tão vendo isso.” Charlie deu de ombros.
“Tinham caixas da cozinha quando você voltou de Oakham.”
“Não, tinham caixas da cozinha quando eu fui pra Oakham.” Charlie frisou “Eu vendi quase tudo antes de voltar.”
“Eu achei que a gente tava usando copo descartável porque você já tinha empacotado tudo, não porque você não tivesse copos.”
“Eu não ia precisar.” Charlie ergueu os ombros.
“E agora nossa menininha de dezesseis anos vai escolher seus pratos.”
“Nossa neném cresceu.”
“Ela vai voltar com prato da Branca de Neve.” Nic avisou.
Charlie riu, “Oliver não ia deixar.”
“Eu tenho umas canecas de princesa que discordam.” O celular de Nic apitou no bolso da calça “Ben precisa de ajuda.” Ela leu a mensagem.
Em alguns minutos, Charlie passou de dona de roupas, livros e um vidro de xampu à orgulhosa dona de uma cômoda e uma cama. Bom, quase. A dona de uma cômoda e de partes pra montar uma cama, porque Bob e Ben estavam parados no meio do quarto discutindo onde e quando o sol batia.
Eles eram farinha do mesmo saco. Altos, ombros largos, em pé ali com uma mão na cintura e outra apontando pra onde achavam que a mobília devia ficar. Mas as diferenças estavam cada vez mais aparentes. Ben era mais alto, mas largo, o queixo era mais definido. Bob não tinha mais quarenta anos e ficar do lado do filho de vinte e oito só reforçava isso.
“Ô de casa!” a voz de Lyla interrompeu a linha de raciocínio de Charlie, que voltou pra sala.
Lyla deixou as caixas – panelas, pratos, talheres, copos – no balcão da cozinha.
“Quanta discrição, hein.” Nic deu uma cotovelada de leve em Oliver.
“Ela só carregou tudo do carro até aqui em cima.”
“A gente não pode encorajar a Lyla a mexer com a gravidade desse jeito.” Nic cochichou.
“Não tinha ninguém perto.” Oliver disse “Ou eu não teria deixado.”
Nic não tava 100% convencida, mas deixou pra lá.
“Além do mais, eu não ia conseguir carregar tudo numa viagem só.”
“Seu cartão.” Lyla devolveu pra Charlie “O que eu faço agora?” ela juntou as mãos empolgada.
“Você e a Nic podem encarar os livros enquanto eu e o Ollie arrumamos a cozinha?” Charlie sugeriu “E vocês dois,” ela botou a cabeça no quarto “resolvam logo a cama. Eu vou fazer 24 horas amanhã e não quero voltar pra casa pra desfazer mala.” Ela saiu do quarto.
“Às vezes, ela é igualzinha a minha mãe.” Bob abaixou a voz.
“Eu ouvi isso!”
“Tá vendo?” Bob apontou a direção geral de onde a voz veio.
Uns vinte minutos depois, Bob disse que tinha terminado enquanto botava as chaves, a carteira e o celular nos bolsos.
“Já?” Charlie fechou a porta do armário recém-organizado.
“Quanto tempo você acha que leva pra montar uma cama?” Bob perguntou “Eu tô indo.”
“Mas a gente ainda não comeu.” Charlie balançou a cabeça.
“Na próxima eu fico.” Bob prometeu “A Lee tá de folga hoje e eu quero aproveitar o dia com ela.” Ele deu um beijo no alto da cabeça da filha “Lyla, sexta-feira?”
“Sim. Te vejo no Murphy’s.”
Mais um aceno e despedida geral e Bob foi embora.
“O que tem na sexta?” Oliver perguntou a sua prima.
“Arquitetura tá na lista de possibilidades. Então eu perguntei pro Bob se eu podia acompanhar um dia de trabalho e ele concordou.” Lyla rearrumou o rabo de cavalo “Ele vai me pegar depois do almoço no restaurante.”
“Tem um tempo que a gente não vai lá.” Nic ficou com água na boca de pensar no Murphy’s.
“Se vocês tiverem livres na segunda...” Oliver sugeriu.
“A gente pode fazer uma noite dos Murray Moore McKenna.” Charlie concordou.
Oliver pigarreou da forma menos sutil possível.
“Murphy Murray Moore McKenna.” Charlie corrigiu.
“O quarto tá pronto.” Ben avisou “Quando a gente vai comer?” ele esfregou as mãos em antecipação.
“A gente tá quase acabando.” Lyla disse.
“Acho que se a gente sair agora, quando voltar, eles já terão terminado.” Charlie falou.
“Eu dirijo.” Ben pegou suas chaves no balcão “O de sempre?” ele olhou em volta e as cabecinhas balançando pra cima e pra baixo foram a resposta.
Tinha uma parte de Charlie se perguntando se esse apartamento tinha sido a escolha certa. Ela não tinha mentido pra Nic quando disse que era aconchegante, mas Nic também não estava errada de chamar de pequeno. Mas sentados no chão da sala (sofá era problema da Charlie do Futuro) com os irmãos – tanto o de verdade quanto os que eram em tudo menos no papel – rindo enquanto comiam hamburguer, batata frita e milkshake fazia parecer que estava tudo certo no mundo. É, aqui era a casa dela agora. Ainda não era incrível, mas ela faria desse apartamentinho um lar.
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I have learned that when sadness comes to visit me, all I can do is say “I see you.” I spend some time with it, get up, and say goodbye. I don’t push it away. I own it. And because I own it, I let it go.
Carolina Zacaria
#Carolina Zacaria#motivation#quotes#poetry#literature#relationship quotes#writing#original#words#love#relationship#thoughts#lit#prose#spilled ink#inspiring quotes#life quotes#quoteoftheday#love quotes#poem#aesthetic
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I have learned that when sadness comes to visit me, all I can do is say “I see you.” I spend some time with it, get up, and say goodbye. I don’t push it away. I own it. And because I own it, I let it go.
Carolina Zacaria
#Carolina Zacaria#motivation#quotes#poetry#literature#relationship quotes#writing#original#words#love#relationship#thoughts#lit#prose#spilled ink#inspiring quotes#life quotes#quoteoftheday#love quotes#poem#aesthetic
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I have learned that when sadness comes to visit me, all I can do is say “I see you.” I spend some time with it, get up, and say goodbye. I don’t push it away. I own it. And because I own it, I let it go.
Carolina Zacaria
#Carolina Zacaria#motivation#quotes#poetry#literature#relationship quotes#writing#original#words#love#relationship#thoughts#lit#prose#spilled ink#inspiring quotes#life quotes#quoteoftheday#love quotes#poem#aesthetic
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every breath, every hour has come to this - S. Jarvis
Summary: Seth Jarvis was your best friend, your rock, your protector…but could he ever be anything more?
This is my entry for @callsign-denmark’s Luck of the Puck fic exchange! I’ve written a Seth Jarvis story for @mp0625, and I really hope you like this – it’s my first time writing for him and I had a lot of fun with it! Thanks for providing some really great prompts for me to work with.
Words: 2.5k
Warnings: some bad language, hurt/comfort, alcohol, terrible date, I fudged the Canes’ game schedule.
Title from: A thousand years, Christina Perri
~
For as long as you could remember, Seth had always been in your life. Two peas in a pod, two goofy little kids, always attached at the hip. Even as hockey became more and more of a fixture in his life, you were right there in the stands, cheering him on at the top of your lungs as his biggest fan. You were his staunchest supporter, always giving him reassurance when his self-confidence cracked or faltered. He was your loyal protector, pushing away anyone that was ever mean to you, including shitty boyfriends. Everyone knew in your small suburb in Winnipeg that where one of you went, the other was sure to follow.
So it was exactly no surprise to your parents (and his) when you followed him down to Raleigh the moment his entry level contract was signed.
You didn’t know what you would do without his energetic personality lighting up your day, the ultimate hype-man even before dates that both of you knew weren’t going to end well, or his sweet smiles in a terrible morning after a fantastic night out with his team. You didn’t know what you would do without his built arms wrapped around you on the sofa while you watched awful reality tv or cheesy movies, broad shoulders perfectly places to rest your head on, and especially waking up after a shared nap together, cementing his self-proclaimed King of Naps title.
Or seeing him wake up from a nap by himself, and his whole face lighting up when he saw you there too.
For as long as you could remember, you’d been in love with Seth, and there was nothing you could do about it. You’d seen the girls Seth went on dates with, and they were nothing like you. Even when the two of you were going on your first dates when you were barely teenagers, his ‘type’ seemed to be the complete opposite of you – so you’d always endeavoured to make sure the guys you dated were the opposite of him. It was the only way to preserve your heart, to keep your incredible friendship with Seth as wholesome and solid as you needed it to be, and not once had you ever messed that up.
Seth Jarvis was the best person in your life and you never wanted that to change. Not for anything. That didn’t mean that you didn’t know how hard your life was going to be when he eventually found his soulmate – but that was a problem for future you, and you refused to do anything but live in the moment.
Speaking of living in the moment…
“Hey Seth, do these shoes go with this dress?”
Living with your best friend really did have its perks – you could always guarantee an honest opinion on your outfit from him.
“Hmm, you can’t go wrong with a little black dress and nice black heels, but where is he taking you?”
“Does that matter?”
“Well yeah, you like those shoes and I know you don’t want them to get ruined by a sticky floor,” Seth pointed out.
He really did know you so well.
“He said he’s taking me out to dinner, but he didn’t tell me where or what the venue was like,” you admitted.
You ignored Seth rolling his eyes.
“The dress is gorgeous but I would change your shoes if you aren’t sure. Maybe those black ankle boots? Not too casual but not too fancy,” Seth suggested.
Incredible.
“You are amazing,” you grinned, jogging back to your room to kick your shoes off.
“And don’t you forget it!”
You just laughed at his shout across the apartment, pulling on the ankle boots he suggested. Just as you thought, he was right. With a swipe of lipgloss, you were ready, so you grabbed your leather jacket and headed back out of your room.
“Hey, sweetheart?”
“Yeah Seth?” you asked, spinning on your heel.
“Have fun tonight. You look amazing – don’t let him forget that,” Seth said seriously, making you laugh, “And if you need anything, anything at all, call me.”
“You’re going to be my knight in shining armour?” you teased.
“With a guy you don’t know taking you out for a first date on St Patrick’s Day? Absolutely,” Seth mused.
Well you couldn’t fault him there.
“Wish me luck!”
“Luck.”
~
If only you’d know just how right Seth would be.
“Seth?” you whimpered, hiccupping into your phone.
“Woah, hey, what’s wrong?”
“I know it’s only been three hours, but can you pick me up?” you pleaded.
“Of course, I’ll leave right now. Three hours or three minutes, it doesn’t matter. Send me your location pin, but stay on the line?”
You just sniffed, nodding even though you knew he couldn’t see you, doing as he asked.
“Okay, I have it. That’s a real shitty bar, sweetheart.”
You choked out a sob. He had no idea. “Real shitty date too.”
“What did he do?”
You could hear him running out of your shared apartment, down the stairs rather than waiting for the elevator, and your heart ached with how willingly he dropped his peaceful evening just to help you.
“He lied about taking me out to dinner. Instead he took me to a bar where a bunch of his friends were, and when I asked him why he lied he told me he wanted to celebrate St Patrick’s Day with his buddies and thought I could come along. Which, fine, okay, he thought I would get on with his friends, so I went along with it. Most of his friends were fine, welcoming even, but they were getting drunker and rowdier and I don’t mind that if I’m with people I know and trust like you or your friends, but with strangers? No way. And then he…”
You trailed off, groaning at the memory, Seth just cursing under his breath. You could hear him driving, not even caring for once that he was probably breaking the speed limit. You just wanted him here.
“What did he do?”
“He started getting handsy. Slapping my ass, pulling me into his body with an arm around my waist, all of that shit, making his friends laugh even though it was obvious I was uncomfortable. But then he grabbed at my boobs and-”
“He fucking what?”
Over all the years of Seth protecting you from nasty dates and boyfriends, you’d never heard him so angry. Never.
“He groped me, in front of everyone. But I shoved him away immediately, I swear!” you insisted.
“Hey, I believe you sweetheart. I know that stuff makes you uncomfortable. I swear I’m going to kill him, I’ll-”
“No, no, I don’t want you to get in trouble, okay? I left the bar already,” you said firmly.
“You left the bar? But your location says…”
“I’m outside the bar, still in eyesight of the bouncer just in case, but I’m outside. I walked out the bar because I couldn’t stand to be near him after him threw the remainder of his beer at me for rejecting him.”
“He fucking what?!”
Okay, that was the angriest you’d ever heard him.
“Told you he was a shitty date,” you mumbled, sniffing again as your eyes stung with tears once more.
“This is not your fault. He was an absolute asshole and none of this is on you.”
“Just my luck, right?” you said, huffing out a bitter laugh.
Seth just cursed under his breath again, continuing to mutter about how men were shit and you deserved better and all the things that usually would put such a smile on your face…but right now it just made you want to be home, safe with him, curled up in his arms. Nothing felt better than being with Seth and it was only because of the few drinks that you had that you allowed yourself to think like this. Thankfully, it couldn’t have been more than 10 minutes before you saw a familiar car screeching into the parking lot, and you finally felt like you could breathe.
He pulled to a stop only metres away from you, and you wasted no time in walking over to him, even as he got out of the car and slammed his door shut, jogging over to meet you halfway.
“Shit, sweetheart, look at you,” Seth scowled.
You groaned softly as he took in your blurred mascara and beer-soaked top, and grabbed his hand to break his attention.
“Can we just go? I want to get as far away from here as possible.”
You rested a hand on his chest, gently guiding him backwards towards his car, out of earshot of the bouncer and anyone else who deigned to leave, Seth’s fuming expression never leaving the dive bar you were walking away from.
“Is he still inside? Is that asshole still in there?” Seth demanded.
“Hey, no, come on, leave it. He’s not worth it,” you pleaded.
“He doesn’t get to treat you like that and get away with it. No-one gets to treat you like that, you hear me? No-one.”
Your breath hitched in your throat and your body thrummed with heat at his furious words, his eyes wild in a way you’d only ever seen on the ice. His fists were clenched, his nostrils were flared, and his shoulders were squared, all the while his cheeks flushing with anger as well. It was only the brief flash of desperation across his face that let you know he wasn’t mad at you – no, this was Seth’s protective side coming out in full force, dialled up to 1000.
“Seth, I…”
You trailed off, running a hand through your hair as you struggled to find words to defend yourself, relying in his car to lean against and keep you upright. He might not have been mad at you, but it still didn’t feel good to know that your situation was making him react like this.
“It’s not like I go out of my way to date assholes,” you eventually managed, “they just seem to find me.”
“Shit, sweetheart, I’m not accusing you of anything. I just…”
He cut himself off, seeming to need a moment to think, and you waited silently for him to give you something. Anything. Eventually he cleared his throat, the wildness in his eyes replaced by an anguish that made your heart ache.
“I can’t take it anymore. I just wish you’d see what you could have, right in front of you.”
What?
What was he talking about?
Right in front of you?
The more seconds the silence stretched on, the more your confused thoughts swirled and the more frustrated Seth looked, until he groaned in frustration.
“I’m talking about me,” he said through gritted teeth, looking like he wanted to be literally anywhere else.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh shit.
“You?” you repeated, your voice cracking.
“Yeah and now I wish I’d never said a damn thing so can we please pretend that you’re really drunk instead of tipsy, and never talk about it again?” Seth muttered, avoiding your eyes.
As all of his words started to sink in, you found yourself shaking your head as decades-buried hope dared to surface.
“You’ve never said anything at all! You like me?” you said, needing him to say it again.
Seth huffed out a laugh, still not looking particularly comfortable.
“How could I say anything? I’m nothing like any of the guys you’ve ever dated,” he muttered.
“Because I purposely date guys that are nothing like you!” you shot back.
“What?”
You groaned as embarrassed heat filled your cheeks, turning your head away to give you a chance to save a scrap of dignity, but then Seth’s hand was cupping your face, gently turning you back to look at him properly. Never had he touched you like this, so delicately and with such purpose. His eyes were a storm, barely giving you anything to go on outside of the intensity, and it was all you could do to let out a shaky breath as he dropped his hand but stepped a little closer.
“I’m going to need you to give me a bit more than that, sweetheart,” Seth said, barely more than a murmur, edge of his voice a little rough, “What do you mean?”
“I purposely date guys that are nothing like you…because you’ve had my heart for longer than I care to remember. I never thought you could ever be interested in me because of the girls you date, and the thought of dating someone even a little bit similar to you was heartbreaking, so I just…went for the complete opposite. Clearly it’s been working out really well,” you said, choking off a bitter laugh as you finished.
Seth’s lips parted in surprise, and for once he was stunned into silence. It was only the fact that he hadn’t moved to step away that saved you from wanting to curl into a ball on the cold ground. Still, that didn’t stop the anguish from building inside of you like a volcano ready to erupt at the slightest provocation.
Eventually he let out a shaky breath, smiling weakly.
“We’ve wasted so much time,” he said softly, shaking his head.
What?
“We…have?” you asked, still in disbelief.
“We have.” Seth nodded, smiling at you in a way that encouraged you to finally smile back at him, giddy without being able to stop yourself, “You’re my goddamned soulmate, how could I ever want anyone but you? And knowing now that you’ve felt the same way all this time? It’s everything. I wish I could say I’ve been playing the long game but honestly I never thought you’d ever want me back. But we need to put a pin in this conversation until tomorrow.”
What? Why?
You didn’t know what was showing on your face but it made Seth laugh – a little deliriously, maybe, but a bright laugh that you were so used to all the same.
“You’ve been drinking, sweetheart. You’ve literally just ended a bad date covered in beer, as well as had quite an emotional night,” Seth explained.
“That still won’t change how I feel about you in the morning,” you pointed out.
His smile turned a little bashful, but definitely pleased, making the butterflies in your stomach riot.
“Then I look forward to hearing you say it again tomorrow. Just…let me take you home? Away from this gritty old bar parking lot?”
You nodded without hesitation, making him huff out a laugh again but take your hands.
“Take me home, Seth,” you murmured, squeezing his hands, barely able to believe the words coming out of your mouth.
With Seth’s wide grin, it looked like he could barely believe it either.
“We’re going to be amazing, you just wait.”
#my writing#seth jarvis fic#luck of the puck exchange#seth jarvis fanfic#seth jarvis imagine#carolina hurricanes fic#hockey fic#hockey imagine#hockey fanfic
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Stop calling them enemies to lovers if all they do is Hallmark style bicker.
They must have deep ideological differences, such as, one believes the other should be dead, and the other one is like, actually you should be dead.
Their vibes should be: "I don't know if I'm grabbing your neck to kiss you... or throttle you and end your miserable bloodline... but I must put my hands upon you or else I might perish."
They should be assassins of the heart and mind, conniving and cruel and lusting for each other's bodies and blood, in more ways than one.
Or just regular assassins, because assassins are sexy.
Also they should be LGBT, because the heteros do this trope sooooo bad.
If you agree with me, and you're into LGBT enemies to lovers, assassins, and also a little bit of demon fucking, you should check out my new urban fantasy book: 7 Deadly Habits of the Modern Demon Summoner, available here.
Summary below: (spoilers: it's basically just pansexual John Wick x Scott Pilgrim...and there are demons):
Although, I warn you. It's really more enemies to lovers to enemies that fuck.
Starring a pansexual demon summoning assassin with too many exes in the killing biz.
Anyway! This book has my whole heart in it. For better or for worse. I'd appreciate if you checked it out or reblogged this post! It's hard out here for indie authors.
#writing#writers on tumblr#spilled ink#digital art#illustration#also remember that being mad at me for using blaze and rudely waltzing into your tumblr living room#is frankly homophobic#dont be homophobic on christmas#your uncle frank whos a trumper from south carolina can do enough of that for you
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competitive much?
welcome, friends, to my first attempt (of many?) at smut writing! let's all collectively thank @kmomof4 for making this as satisfying as possible for all of you to read!
rated E | 5634 words
also on AO3
summary: Emma Swan had been pining for Killian Jones for years.
Who knew that all she needed to take that next step was having to share a bed with him?
Of course there was only one bed. The universe truly hated Emma Swan. And now, Emma Swan was doomed to share a bed with Killian Jones - the man she’s been pining after for years.
He had been a gentleman about it because that’s who he was - offering to sleep on the floor or find another motel. But it was late, and they had been driving for hours with a few more still ahead of them before they reached their destination. So she had refused, telling him that they were adults and deserved a proper night's rest and she was sure they could keep their hands to themselves.
His smirk told her that he probably didn’t believe her but she ignored it, not wanting to let it slip that when around him she had plenty of experience containing herself. Even if he often made it hard on her, flaunting his chest with his barely buttoned shirts and his legs and backside with the impossibly tight trousers he liked to wear.
Bad train of thought, Emma. Don’t think about Killian’s bulge in tight trousers before you get into bed with him.
Share a bed with him.
She shook her head as she finished her nightly routine in the bathroom. He was likely doing the same in the room and nope, she wasn’t going to think about Killian Jones stripping a few feet away from her. Nope.
Emma cursed herself for her choice of pajama set. Not only was she sharing a bed with Killian Jones but she was doing it in a thin white tank top and sleep shorts. This was a recipe for disaster.
Maybe he’d like what he saw. Her hands ran over her hair, pulling sections over her shoulders and noticing the way goosebumps rose on her chest at the sensation. Would he notice that she wasn’t wearing a bra?
Bad Emma. Focus.
God, what was this man doing to her? They had known each other for years and she knew he was hot, and that his hands felt amazing on her skin and that he was warm when he hugged her and-
Focus!
She took a deep breath and stopped herself from fluffing her hair by gathering it up and tying it with a hair tie instead. Emma walked out of the bathroom coming face to face with Killian’s bare chest. She held back a groan by making eye contact with him. Well, his eyes were several inches away from hers but she wasn’t going to complain at the way he blatantly looked over her body.
“No shirt, Jones?” She was proud at how steady her voice sounded and she covered her chest with her arms, wanting to do everything she could to make this less awkward.
Her voice seemed to bring him out of his thoughts as he shook his head and finally looked at her, his cheeks reddening. “Apologies, Swan, I didn’t plan to ahh… share a bed with you tonight, so I didn’t bring a sleep shirt.”
“Yeah,” she sighed, nodding at his matching reasoning. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, we’ll just keep to our sides.” She gave a final nod before approaching the bed to pull the covers away.
He followed her to the bed and stood on the other side. “I’m not responsible for what might happen, should you invade my space.” A slow, sensuous smile stretched over his lips, a smile full of danger and promise on the face of a man who, she knew, wouldn’t touch her without her permission.
She smirked in response. “Right, like you could handle it.”
“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”
Her eyes stared into his, at the desire telegraphed in his stare, at the way his tongue ran over his bottom lip. But no, she couldn’t. They couldn’t. Right?
They were coworkers and friends and she trusted him. What if it went wrong? Yeah, even that excuse was sounding weaker and weaker the longer she stood there staring at him.
But friends don’t share beds and she was sure that this was breaking any and all rules she forced herself to comply with. Truth was, she wanted him. More than wanted him. Had fallen for him years ago and she was… 90% sure he wanted her, too.
He was waiting.
Waiting for her.
Not the right time.
He could plainly see her shut down as they faced each other, his understanding eyes and compliant sigh hurting her more than if he had simply walked away.
Would he get tired of waiting?
“Just stay on your side of the bed,” she huffed before she laid down on her side, her back to him, hands trapped under her pillow.
“As you wish.”
The words echoed in her brain as the bed dipped and the covers fell more comfortably over her. The room fell into darkness when he turned off the lamp on the bedside table. Emma felt the bed dip and move as Killian got comfortable on the uncomfortable bed and waited, waited to hear his breathing even out. It seemed to take forever, but once it did, she laid on her back, watching his moon-lit face as he slept on his side. He looked younger in his sleep. The frown that had been on his face before they went to bed disappeared and his lips were parted, looking so tantalizing she wanted to run her finger across them.
In the silence of the room, she heard the door from the next room open and close followed by the sound of giggling. Of course they had to share a wall with a happy couple. A very happy couple if the loud sounds of kissing reaching their room were any clue.
The springs of the bed next door creaked as the couple likely fell together on it and she felt Killian’s breathing hitch and she closed her eyes worried he’d wake up to find her staring at him. But he didn’t and she waited as his breathing returned to normal. The hand not currently under his pillow lay flat on the space between their bodies, his fingers twitching minutely every now and then.
Emma’s chest was tight and she wanted.
She inched her hand towards his with the sounds of soft moans as background noise until she slithered it under his palm. They had held hands before but she knew this wouldn’t be like any of those other times, not when they were both in sleep clothes and sharing a bed. She inhaled sharply as his hand immediately covered hers, holding it as tight as a sleeping man could.
Their hands fit together like puzzle pieces and her thumb began to caress his skin. She heard him sigh at her touch, his eyes still closed. And she wanted more. Needed more.
Letting the couples’ noises in the next room inspire her, she slowly moved her body close to his, turning over so that her back was facing him, then even more slowly wrapping the arm she still held around her waist. She sighed deeply as she fit against his warm body, especially when he pulled her closer to him and they occupied the same space on the bed.
His other arm moved from under the pillow to slither under the curve of her neck giving her a different type of pillow. His hand, his empty hand, in her eyesight looked lonely and she used her free, empty hand to hold it. This wouldn’t be manageable for long but she couldn’t bring herself to let go of him, not when she could feel his chest rise and fall against her back, his breath on her neck and the heat of his hands on both of hers.
Emma shut her eyes in contentment. She must have fallen asleep at least for a little while because, when she opened her eyes after a loud thump, she was holding his hand with her two hands, while his free arm was fully wrapped around her waist. His thumb was rubbing her torso in an absentminded manner and she wondered if he was awake.
As she became aware of her surroundings, she also noticed the progressively more passionate noises from the next room - their words of encouragement and moans electrifying every nerve ending in her body. The headboard began thumping on their shared wall making Emma’s imagination run wild. The woman screamed and she felt Killian’s hand grip her hip tightly. Were the same images running through his brain?
She pushed her hips back and barely contained her gasp at the feel of his erect cock against her ass. His grip on her hip faltered as a stuttered moan passed his lips, his obvious desire fighting against his good form that she knew governed his actions at all times.
But she didn’t want good form. She wanted him.
Her hips moved in a slower rhythm to the thumping on the walls and his hand found her stomach. He clenched the hand she was still holding and she thought he might be asking her to stop, saying no but when she clenched back, she heard a relieved sigh behind her and felt his hand inching up until his fingers touched the underside of her breast. Her breathing hitched at the soft touch and she gripped the sheets with one of her hands, her hips losing their rhythm against his. A groan, louder than the others, his groan, sounded in her ear. The hand at her stomach moved up, cupping her whole breast. An impulsive moan escaped her lips as the rough thumb began to rub against her hardened nipple.
“Emma…”
Her hips stuttered again against him at the wrecked voice in her ear. A soft whimper fell from her lips as the hand at her breast pinched her nipple before melting into a sigh when his lips began whispering kisses to the skin of her neck.
The sounds coming from the next room grew louder, the thumping faster and Emma followed, a tightening in her lower belly at the unmistakable sounds of pleasure coupled with the ministrations on her body from the man she couldn’t stop thinking about. His lips grew greedier, switching between open mouth kisses and nibbles on her sensitive flesh.
The lovers in the next room climaxed and Emma hoped her moan of Killian’s name had been lost in their screams. But the sharp pinch of his fingers on her nipple and the insistent grind of his length against her told her it wasn’t. His responding moan had her tilt her neck back to give his lips more space.
“I want you, Emma.”
His whisper in her ear had goosebumps rise all over her flesh. Shivers ran down her body as his hand left her breast, slowly caressing her stomach on its way down. Her whole body itched, yearning for his touch.
“May I touch you?”
She wanted to respond with sarcasm, wanted to tell him that he was already touching her but she knew what he was asking, especially as his pinky inched its way under the elastic of her sleep shorts. Her hips moved, greedy for his touch, but his hand remained unmoving, waiting. He would always wait for her.
“Please…” It was all she could say. She felt as though she would break if he didn’t touch her.
“Please, what?” His lips were on her ear, his teeth on the skin of her earlobe. “Do you want me to touch you?”
Her nod was vigorous as his ring finger followed his pinky. He flexed his fingers, scratching her skin and fanning the flames consuming her body.
“I need to hear you say it.”
Her mouth opened as he pulled her earlobe into his mouth, nibbling it and taking her breath away. He pulled her hips closer to his with the hand at her lower belly and she couldn’t think. Couldn’t think of anything else but him and the promises she knew he would fulfill.
“I want you to touch me, Killian. I need you to tou-”
Her words were stolen from her mouth in a gasp as his hand covered her mound, his fingers running up and down her wet folds. His groan washed over her whole body as he used his other arm to pull her closer to him, their bodies flush from shoulders to hips. His hand found the breast he abandoned and her mouth opened in a low, drawn out moan, her head tilting into his shoulder.
“You’re so wet,” Killian whispered against her ear, his voice sounding completely wrecked, her hands gripping the sheets, wanting more and more but unable to ask for it. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to touch you like this, to feel you like this.”
Gathering the wetness between her folds, his fingers moved up to circle over her clit, her hands shaking in desperation, her breathing quickening at the ecstasy taking over her body.
“You feel so good, Emma. I knew you would,” he continued to whisper, his lips pressing soft kisses on her neck while his other hand played with her breast. His touches were soft, meant to bring her up slowly, to draw out her pleasure. “I’ve dreamed about this, about you, for so long.” His scruff scratched against her jawline as he began to whisper in her ear once more. “Dreamt about hearing you, kissing you, touching you.”
She gasped as his teeth nibbled her jawline, causing a quiet moan to slip out. Her brain was full of him, full of his touch, his words, his voice. But she wanted more. “I dreamt about you, too, Killian. I’ve wanted you to touch me for so long. I-”
Her babbling was interrupted by her loud moan when his fingers pinched her nipple and the fingers on his other hand sped up on her clit with tight circles. He didn’t stop even as she reached back to grab onto his hair or when she interlocked their fingers at her breast. He didn’t stop as she writhed against his hand or when her moans grew louder and louder as her orgasm crested and rippled over her from head to toe. He didn’t stop until she finally came down, breathing heavily against his chest, feeling her fast beating heart against their interlocked hands. She became aware of his lips kissing up and down her neck, keeping her body on edge and desperate for more.
“You’re so beautiful when you come, Emma,” he whispered in her ear, her hand in his hair less harsh as she combed through the soft strands. “I’ll forever remember the way you moaned my name. May I hear it again?”
Her body shivered as his fingers continued to move slowly and carefully up and down her folds. She gasped each time his rough fingers touched her clit.
“Killian…” she moaned, drawing it out almost obscenely when he put pressure on the area above her clit.
She’d never forget his responding growl as his lips latched onto her neck. She was sure that he was marking her skin, and her heart raced at the idea of having proof that this wasn’t another dream. But it wasn’t enough.
She moved her hand to the back of his neck, pulling until he lifted his head from her neck. The grip she had on his other hand loosened as she moved to her back, looking up to find his eyes. She could clearly see fear, worry, and desire battling for dominance. He kept his hand over her mound, unmoving, waiting as he watched her, the desire finally winning out, overwhelming the other emotions in his eyes. The same desire she was sure he could see in her own.
She pulled his head down to join their lips in a slow, passionate kiss. A kiss that served to keep the fire between them simmering as they got acquainted with every corner of their mouths. His hand flexed on her back and Emma arched into him. She didn’t want him to hold back. She needed him not to hold back.
“I need you to touch me, Killian,” she repeated against his lips, her hand grabbing onto his bicep, nails digging into his skin.
She would have to add his responding moan to her memory files, never wanting to forget the desire in his voice. His wet fingers gripped her hip as his other arm wrapped around her body to bring her closer to him before he captured her mouth with his. She let him take the lead, using the hand on the back of her head to position her in the best way to deepen the kiss.
The hand at her hip slid over her ass and she moaned against his lips at the way he gripped it, her leg hooking over his hip in response. She could feel his hard length pressed right where she wanted him. With her leg hooked over his thigh, Emma moved her hips against him, moaning at how good he felt but also at the way he held her tighter against him, their bodies now touching from head to hips.
Kissing him brought with it its own kind of pleasure, the way his tongue caressed hers, the feel of his lips on hers. She wanted more, craved more. Would never be satisfied no matter how long he kept touching her, how long he kept kissing her. She needed more.
Her teeth caught his bottom lip and she pulled carefully, relishing the vibration of his moan against her lips. Her fingers slid into the strands of his hair keeping him in place while her hand found its way inside his pants. He pulled his lips away from her to prolong his moan, the sound washing through her body.
“Emma…”
“Say my name again,” she whispered, wrapping her fingers around his length and stroking him slowly. His eyes opened sharply to look into hers and her breathing hitched, the blue gone as the black promised everything she ever wanted and more.
His hand moved under her shorts once more, slipping under her underwear. “Emma,” he moaned and her hand moved in time with his as he slipped his fingers between her folds once more. “Emma, Emma, Emma,” he moaned between kisses to her neck, her collarbones, the tops of her breasts.
“I need you naked, Jones.”
He groaned and she bit her lip at the lustful sound of it. She almost whimpered at the loss of his fingers, but she moaned instead as he licked his fingers clean, his eyes closing in pleasure.
“Gods, but you taste divine.” His nose rubbed against her neck and his lips followed, laying a kiss on the sensitive skin behind her ear. “I want to taste you.”
Her fingers clenched around his cock, imagining his dark head of hair buried between her thighs putting that talented tongue to work. But his hard length in her hand made her realize what she wanted first and foremost.
“Next time.” She smirked as his head pulled up sharply to look into her eyes, scrunching in pleasure at the way she tightened her hold on him in response.
“Next time?” he whispered and she could hear the uncertainty in his tone behind the lust, the way he was still waiting for her, still following her lead.
He’d allow her to keep this dalliance as a one-time thing, let her hide from this, from him, in her fear. But she would miss his touch, his kiss, his warmth and the fear that threatened to overwhelm turned into yearning. Deep, burning yearning, stronger than before, now that she knew how it felt to be held in his arms.
“Next time.” She nodded and smiled softly at the awe on his face. She ran her index finger over his slit, gathering the precum there and bringing it to her mouth. She closed her lips over her finger, closing her eyes as well and humming in pleasure at the taste of him. “I want you inside me now.”
Emma bit her lip in anticipation as he grabbed her wrists and trapped her hands on either side of her head. Her thighs rubbed together under his piercing gaze and she tilted her chin to welcome his desperate kiss. Almost immediately, Killian slowed the kiss, surprising her, softening his lips, even as his hips pressed urgently against hers.
He broke the kiss and she opened her eyes to find him watching her, his lust pushed aside. “Are you sure, Emma?”
His thumbs rubbed against her wrists and she could clearly see the vulnerability in his eyes, not sure he could believe her promise of a next time. He needed more. And she wanted to give it to him.
“Yeah.” She nodded, her lips curving in a smile. “I’m sure, Killian.”
She barely finished saying his name before his lips took over hers once more, the slant possessive, branding her as his. He laced their fingers together, and Emma realized this was already far better than any other encounter she’d had before. She wondered if it had anything to do with her feelings towards Killian Jones.
Any contemplation was erased from her mind at the feel of his thigh rubbing against her where she needed him most. “Please, Killian…” she moaned, moving her hips against it.
“I need you naked, Swan.” The grin was clear in his voice even with her eyes closed and she laughed delightedly.
She missed his hands on hers as soon as they were gone but she moved quickly to pull her top off. He watched her from where he sat back on his heels and an impatient growl burst from him as he pushed his sleep pants off. She did the same, just as impatient as he. She pulled her hair from the band slowly, running her fingers through it to loosen it.
His fingers replaced hers as soon as she finished, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling carefully but commandingly. She bit her lip then let it go with a moan as his lips connected with her exposed neck.
“Hmm, I love to hear you moan.” She can’t help but let out another one in response to his deep voice in her ear, her hands taking hold of his hips. “Do you like it when I pull your hair?”
“Yes.” A wave of lust gathered in her center at the clench of his fist, pulling her soft strands, the sting of pain bringing her more pleasure. “Do it again.”
His arm wound around her to pull her body against his, both of their breath hitching at the feel of their finally naked bodies against one another. Her hands found the skin of his back, digging her nails in when he pulled on her hair once more. She took hold of his perfect ass, giddy to finally being able to touch what he teased with every tight pair of trousers he wore. He pushed his hips forward, his length sliding against her wet folds, their matching gasps and sighs of pleasure loud in the otherwise quiet room.
The desire in his moan was overwhelming and she was sure hers matched his. Her hands ran up his back as he loosened his grip on her hair. She met his gaze and found an understanding and acceptance there that took her breath away.
“Next time?”
“Next time.”
They smiled in unison and this time, she initiated the kiss, melting in his arms as he maneuvered them into a lying position on the bed, his body covering hers. His hips ground against her as he kissed down her neck, his hand finding her breast, his fingers playing her like an instrument.
“Are you clean? I didn’t exactly pack condoms for a work trip,” Emma breathed, pulling on his hair when she didn't get an answer.
“Aye, sparkling.”
She rolled her eyes and laughed as he returned to her neck.
“Me, too.” She answered his unasked question and ground her hips against his length, an ecstatic moan pouring from her lips. “I also have an IUD, so…” He groaned at the implication in her words. “Don’t keep me waiting, Jones.”
“Wouldn’t dare.”
He took a deep breath, obviously aware of the monumental step they were about to take together. He met her gaze as his hand moved down to her most intimate place, his fingers running up and down her folds before two of his long fingers entered her at once. She bit her lip and began to ride them, but she wanted more. Just when she was about to ask, he added a third.
“Please, Killian, please.”
She was babbling, she knew it, and his chest was heaving above her. “Just wanted to make sure,” he mumbled.
Emma held her breath as he removed his fingers and stroked himself once, twice, three times, coating his cock with her wetness. She watched his hand for a moment longer before meeting his eyes. She nodded and he nodded back.
He positioned his hips against hers, guiding his length through her folds again, with more pressure this time. He was going to drive her absolutely mad, her moans loud every time the head brushed against her clit. “Killian…”
Her hands shook where they rested on his chest when he finally entered her in one slow thrust, her long moan matching his as he dropped his head to her shoulder. He held still for a moment, allowing her to adjust to this new feeling, to his size inside her. Her muscles clenched around him when she was ready for him to move and his groans reverberated against her skin. “I don’t know how long I’ll last,” he whispered, utterly wrecked. “You feel amazing, love.”
“Amazing,” she repeated, barely aware of his words, focused only on the way he filled her up.
He pressed soft kisses to her shoulder as his hips began to move with slow deep thrusts inside her. Her ankles wrapped around his hips as her hands grabbed onto the back of his neck and his bicep. His hips stuttered at the sensation, his teeth rasping against her skin.
“More,” she moaned, nails digging into his skin. Killian gave one hard thrust causing them both to moan loudly. “Yes, just like that.”
He growled and pulled his knees to rest on either side of her hips, the new angle having Emma grab onto his arms tightly. He continued the hard rhythm, his hips grinding against her clit with each thrust, her body shaking each time he found that place deep inside her that made her see stars. It had never felt like this before. So good, so full, so perfect. His arms slithered under hers to grab onto her shoulders, his groan loud against the skin of her shoulder. Distantly, she heard him spouting babbling praise, the squeaks of the bedsprings under her body, and the thumping of the headboard against the wall but it meant nothing when she felt it. Felt the imminent orgasm taking over.
Her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders wanting to keep him as close as possible. It wasn’t enough. It’d never be enough. His fingers digging into her skin was the only warning she had before he spilled himself inside her, his orgasm triggering hers as she clenched around him. Her moans joined his in a decadent display of ultimate bliss. Time stood still and the world held its breath.
“Fuck,” he sighed, softening inside her and loosening his grip on her shoulders. But she wasn’t ready to let him go, forcing her body to keep him there, keep him close. “Emma…”
She hummed at the sound of her name, digging her fingers in his hair, shivering at the feel of his lips on her neck.
“Stay,” she murmured quietly.
His lips curved up against her skin at her request and she would feel embarrassed at her desperation if he didn’t tighten his hold on her just a little bit more.
“I’m not going anywhere, love,” he promised in a whisper against her ear. “But we should move.”
She whimpered in reluctant agreement, drawing it out into a whine when he slipped out of her. He kissed her temple and she tilted her head up, hands on his neck. He chuckled against her lips.
“I’ll be right back,” he whispered before pressing their lips together again in a quick kiss.
Emma wanted to protest but she could barely move. She only managed to turn her head and open her eyes to watch his bare ass as he walked to the bathroom. She was right, she thought with a smirk, better out of his tight jeans. She bit her lip as she watched him walk back, wet washcloth in his hand.
He grinned at her. “Don’t look at me like that, Swan.” He knelt on the bed, his eyes on hers while he carefully ran the warm cloth on her sensitive area, causing her to shiver and sigh.
“Come lay with me for a bit?” she asked, her hand running languidly up and down his arm.
“As you wish.”
She let out an uncharacteristic giggle as he huffed in faux reluctance and laid down next to her. Emma sighed in contentment as he wrapped his arms around her, her head pillowed on his chest. She could hear his heart beating under her ear and she felt like she could stay in this moment forever.
“Me, too,” he sighed, making her realize she’d spoken out loud. He really did a number on her. “Never thought I’d have the opportunity, but I always imagined it’d feel like this.”
“Me, too.” She felt him tense underneath her and frowned in confusion. She set her chin on top of her crossed arms on his chest, and watched his wary expression. “What is it?”
His chest rose and fell in a deep breath. “I know we spoke about next time, but I don’t want us to just have this, love. I-” She waited for him to continue. It took a moment, but after a sigh, he spoke again. “I want more, I want everything with you. If you just want sex, I-I-”
She stopped him with her thumb on his bottom lip, unable to watch him worry, or despair, or to feel anything other than the happiness and pleasure they had found themselves in before. She replaced her finger with her lips, placing a soft chaste kiss there that had his arms wrapping tighter around her.
“I want everything, too,” she confessed, forcing herself to look into his eyes. And when she did, she was rewarded by the pure happiness that lit them up. “I’ve wanted it for a long time but I was afraid.”
“You’re not anymore?”
“I never had to be,” she answered with a frustrated sigh. “I was hiding behind my walls but it made me so unhappy.”
“What made you change your mind?”
She shook her head and bit her lip. “I don’t know. I saw you laying there, so peaceful and your hand was just there, so empty.” She felt his hand clench her hip and sighed at how full it must look now. “I was just tired of pushing my desires aside.”
His smile was as bright as the sun and he took hold of her jaw to lay a hard kiss on her lips, making her moan. “I’m glad you did. I have been waiting for you.”
She smiled back. “You always did.”
Her hands cupped his cheeks, bringing him up for a passionate kiss, designed to ignite her nerve endings, to bring back that telltale spark to her veins. She hummed against his lips as his other hand traveled down her back before stopping at her ass, his large hand cupping one cheek.
The thumping on the wall above their heads restarted causing both of them to break the kiss to look at it. Killian laughed before looking down at her, his hand squeezing her ass and causing her to wiggle against his touch.
“What do you say, love?” His grin was dangerous again but now she knew the promises it held and oh, that knowledge made it even more dangerous. “Think you can handle another round?”
“Question is,” she smirked, her thigh rubbing against his soft member. “Can you?”
She felt the warmth inside returning at the glint in his eyes. His hand reached below her ass to run a finger over her wettening folds, before bringing it back up to his lips.
“Maybe not now, but…” She shrieked in surprise when he quickly flipped them around, her back now against the mattress. “It’ll give me time to properly taste you.”
She rubbed her thighs together at the darkening of his eyes but he stopped them by forcing a knee in between. Emma bit her lip to silence a moan when he rubbed against her clit, igniting that fire once more. His thumb pulled her bottom lip from her teeth.
“I want you to be loud, love. Can you do that for me?” She inadvertently obeyed when he put more pressure against her most sensitive spot. “Just like that, let’s show them how it’s done.”
Her laugh was interrupted by a moan when his fingers replaced his thigh. “Competitive much?” she panted.
His grin split his face in half as he winked. “Oh, absolutely.”
Her breathy laughter followed his slow path down her body until all she could see was his dark hair between her thighs and all she felt was his mouth kissing her folds like he would her mouth. Any thoughts of competition flew out of her brain as she moaned and groaned and gripped and ground when he showed her just how talented his mouth really was.
They won, though.
#carolina writes#captainswan#smut#there was only one bed#friends to lovers#killian jones#emma swan#captain hook#once upon a time#ouat#ouat ff#cs ff
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they need to make more media about real actual small towns, you know what I’m saying? like we need more explorations of the absolutely crazy interpersonal drama that happens in towns with <500 residents. we need to get into the nitty gritty of the dysfunction and hatred blossoming in an unincorporated community with a population of 23 people.
#fine. I’ll write it.#anybody have original towns like they have original characters? I do <3#Elgin Virginia and Smokey Ordinary North Carolina
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I have a stupid idea for a DC fanfiction.
So I was reading a Ra'stim fic (cause I'm the worst) and in a throw away line Tim tells Ra's the he got a medical degree while bored. And I find that so funny.
Imagine with me!!
Tim is on one of his no sleep benders and is hacking random places around Gotham. While he does he finds out that the next day is the final exam for a couple medical students. Tim knows medical stuff. Tim makes a new identity (maybe a nephew to Carolina Hill) and just makes up a whole college experience for this guy. Tim walks into the exam room, looking just as tired as everyone else, and just takes the test. He completely zones out during any practical portion before heading home and sleeping for the first time in 82 hours.
When he gets his test scores back and a license to legally sew people back together Tim is so confused. When did? How did? Who!?!!???
I just can't get it out of my head. Add whatever you want I'm not going to write this.
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Carry Me Home || S. Aho
Author: Sydney / @sydnikov
Pairing: Sebastian Aho/fem!Reader
Word Count: 5.6k
Summary: Sebastian Aho is frustrated with his team’s loss against the New York Islanders. He takes it out on you in a rather primitive way.
Warnings: 18+ smut smut smut, unprotected p in v (wrap it up kiddos!), oral (f receiving), bits of dom!Sepe, breeding kink if you squint, cursing, angst, not much fluff in this one
A/N: Surprise! My first smut fic. I hate myself. I blame the Hurricanes playing like shit for making me write this. As usual, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. Enjoy!! I certainly didn’t (kidding) P.S. Title is from “All The Small Things” by Blink 182
*Minors, you are responsible for your own media consumption. That being said, I will not block you for interacting with this fic or my blog, but always be aware of the content you choose to consume and the consequences it can have.
Sebastian Aho feels fire in his veins. His skin is flushed, hot to the touch, with his hair smoking from sweat-soaked strands boiling into steam. He is a steadily growing inferno, biding his time before unleashing his wrath.
There was no other time in his life he could think of where he had ever felt so frustrated, so angry.
Painful grunts and the sounds of sticks hitting the ice so hard they break echo in his ears, just as the sound of the puck hitting the goal post every time he shot it did, too. In the back of his mind, Sebastian knows that winning takes more than just one player, but yet all he can think is my fault my fault my fault.
He is an alternate captain, after all. It’s his job to help lead his team, to get them the wins they deserve. So ever since the start of this season, why had he been failing to do so?
Sebastian couldn’t dominate the Islanders on his own no matter how much he wanted to… But there is one person he knows he can.
As the Fin aggressively unties his skates, he imagines the strands of your hair tangled in his fingers as the laces get stuck on his glove. As he rips off his undershirt, he imagines doing the same to your bra.
When the reporters ask the same question they do after every game, “What could you have done better?” and pretend not to flinch when he shoots them a glare, he imagines your wide-eyed gaze as he tells you, c’mon, you can take it, yeah?
He kind of wishes he could say the same thing to these fucking reporters as he imagines giving one or two or preferably all of them a black eye—in a different scenario, of course.
Oh, but you are so good to him. He doesn’t deserve you. There is absolutely nothing in this world that can take you away from him, not now and not ever.
The winger speaks to no one except for the coaching staff as he eventually storms out of the locker room, exchanging a few words about practice and something about more line changes before he is finally let go.
Sebastian doesn’t want to think about hockey anymore. He wants to think about you.
Meanwhile, you were planted outside said locker room with a few of the wives and girlfriends, leaning against the wall while you all tried to talk about anything other than the disaster of a game you’d just watched.
It was hard watching the person you love get so upset and disappointed, especially when knowing how much pressure he puts on himself to be a leader of his team. There were many nights laying in bed, his head resting on your chest, that he revealed the bits and pieces of his carefully shielded heart how responsible he feels for his team’s performance.
How every loss chips away at his self-respect, leaving him feeling broken and lost as he struggles to find a way to get his team back on top. He was only one man, yet felt the weight of a thousand suns bearing down on his shoulders, relying on him to score.
And score he tries. Everything he could do he does; he racks up the points, he makes assists, but all his efforts still couldn’t bring them out on top.
You know Sebastian feels worthless, and you aren’t sure how he’s going to express it as you spot him marching up to you.
“Hey,” is your first word to him, spoken softly and carefully before he pulls you into his chest. The first thing you notice is that he feels like a human furnace; the chill you’d become used to after sitting next to an ice rink for over two hours is immediately replaced with warmth, and you can’t help but bury your head into his chest at the feel of it. “I’m sorry, Sepe.”
The pressure he so often feels immediately dissipates at the sound of your voice. Sebastian releases a strained sigh and curls over your body in a protective embrace, his mind racing with millions of words at a million miles per hour but the only ones he can hear are mine mine mine as you look up at him with unbridled affection.
“Kulta,” My honey, he murmurs, wet strands of hair falling over his eyes as he looks down at you. “You’re still here,” he can’t help but say, almost as if he were expecting you to be gone because he didn’t win.
You soften even more if that were possible. “I would never leave you,” you say with conviction, your words meant to be taken innocently yet all Sebastian could think of is the image of you under him as he thrusts into you, making you say the same words over and over again.
“What was that?”
“I can’t—”
“Yes, you can. C’mon, pretty girl, say it for me again,”
His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. He needs to get you home, immediately.
Lacing his fingers through yours, the Finn presses a heated kiss to your lips, groaning so deep in his chest it has your face flushing a beautiful shade of red which has him thinking truly awful things before the two of you leave the arena.
Sebastian wants nothing more than to take care of you, and thinks briefly that maybe this is a developing unhealthy coping mechanism in the works, but as he opens the car door for you and locks eyes on the way your lips flash him a sweet smile, he can’t find it in himself to care.
You’re just so innocent; it’s in your nature to see the good in everything, to see the good in him despite his less-than holy thoughts. While he doesn’t consider his sex life with you vanilla by any means, he almost feels guilty for all the degrading ways he was thinking of you.
Sebastian was not on top of his game tonight, but he was determined, now, to be on top of you.
Your mind, however, is running rampant in all of the ways you think this night could go, and with Sebastian’s large hand splayed across your thigh as he drives the two of you home, you’re fairly positive in your understanding of what your role is going to be.
It’s funny because you’ve been with him for several years now and he still never fails to get your heart racing. Everything about him has you feeling a certain type of way, especially now as you catch shy peeks of his side profile; clenched jaw, ruffled hair, and blazing eyes…
You can’t help but rub your thighs together, a pleasurable tingle starting low in your belly and spreading warmth throughout the rest of your body as Sebastian gives you a look that spells trouble.
He adjusts the hold he has on your thigh, gripping the flesh just a little bit tighter. “Gonna get you home soon, don’t worry,” he says, almost to himself. It has your eyes widening and your heart beating faster because the tone of his voice is almost feral.
Sebastian is not what you would consider rough in bed. He has his moments, where he uses his strength to flip you over or manhandle you into whatever position he wants, but he’s never been the type to fuck you against a wall or anything of the sorts.
And as dominating as he could sometimes be, his softer side more than made up for it. Sweet but deep kisses to your lips, teeth lovingly nipping marks onto the sides of your breasts, hands roaming all over your body with gentle squeezes and caresses, and a body that seldom ran out of stamina making sure your pleasure always comes before his.
His mouth, however… Sebastian’s mouth is the word ‘dirty’ personified. Sinful lips creating words you’d never want your mother to hear, and a tongue that knew every weak spot on your body to leave you shivering in its wake.
In fact, you couldn’t help but remember the last time his mouth was put to use. Twas the night before, actually, where his body was restless and his solution to getting his energy out was sliding down the length of your body with whispered praises, slipping your panties to the side with his pointer finger, and attaching his lips first thing to your clit—
The sound of your name from the very voice of the man you were just fantasizing about interrupts your thoughts. You quickly turn to find that Sebastian already powered off and exited the vehicle and is holding your door open for you, looking at you with slight concern.
He says your name again when you fail to respond, suddenly starstruck.
Sebastian is just and his arms are so and his lips so full and kissable and him—
The next thing you know, the Finn has wrapped his large hands around your waist and is yanking you out of the car, mouth swooping down to meet your eager lips.
He kisses the life out of you, simultaneously slamming the car door shut so he can press you hard against it. The thought that you have any semblance of control right now slips through your rattled brain not unlike the slickness you can feel dripping down your legs.
He was the epitome of domineering, in no mood to let you think you had any say in what he is going to do to you. Tonight is about him needing a release, and the only way he is going to get it is through you.
Or, rather, by him burying himself so deep inside you you wouldn’t be able to walk for days. The thought has his cock throbbing, unable to resist pressing his hips into the heat between your thighs.
The feeling of his dick against your most sensitive spot has you releasing a breathless whine, and then your kisses become harder against his lips, more desperate.
Sebastian bites at your bottom lip, his own rising into a smirk once he feels rather than hears the resulting gasp catch in your throat. He lets one of his hands rise from the grip he has on your ass to slide carefully around your neck, firmly grasping the front of your throat to bring you closer.
The action has you flat-out whimpering, your hands sinking into the winger’s hair, tugging at the strands so hard he hisses. Now, the Finn is no submissive by any means, but never have you seen him so, so… Dominant.
You decide right then and there that you rather like this side of him.
“Sepe,” you try to speak, but the words catch in your throat again as his kisses move from your lips, past his hand still gripping your throat, and down to the sensitive skin of your collarbone. “—I can’t,”
He hums, your pleas merely background noise as he sucks red marks into your skin. “Can’t what? Gonna have to be more specific, nappula,”
Button. Oh, you are so fucked. Literally. His button. He called you his button. His his his.
Unable to take his slow teasing, you tear him away from your neck to bring him back to your eager lips, a desperate sound crawling up your throat as his hands move to bury themselves in your hair.
“Take me to bed, please,”
Sebastian practically melts at your words. Knowing your desperation, he moves his hands back from your hair down to your thighs, tapping once and then twice where you finally got the memo to jump. He curls your legs over his hips, sliding one hand under your ass with the other pressing supportively against the small of your back.
The five-second walk to the front door has the hand previously holding your back trembling as he fumbles with his keys. Finally opening the door after forcing himself to focus, despite the feeling of your mouth leaving teasing nips and kisses, Sebastian mutters a long string of curses as he hurriedly steps into the house, swiftly kicking the door shut behind him.
“Such a fucking tease,” he rasps into your ear, his free hand grasping onto the back of your neck to bring you back to his lips. He kisses you sensually, reveling in the softness of your body molding perfectly against his. “Bet you’ve been waiting for me all night.”
You nod rapidly in agreement, hands trying to find purchase on the smooth lines of his suit so you could begin tearing it off of him. “I’m always wanting you, Sepe,”
Sebastian hisses another curse, and the next thing you know your back is landing softly on the large mattress that is his bed. He gives you no time to gather your thoughts before he’s climbing on top of you. His calloused hands slip under your shirt to remove it, granting him full access to knead at your tits.
The forward kisses you again, tongue tracing lines across your bottom lip before forcefully pushing his way in. You can feel him everywhere and nowhere all at once, a strangled sound escaping your throat as his hips start grinding into the throbbing heat between your legs.
“Seb,” you try, back arching as his hands skillfully move to unclasp your bra. “Oh fuck, Seb, please,”
The sound of your cries has Sebastian grinning wolfishly, your desperation filling him with a sick sense of pride. “Please what?”
Suddenly, you understand his teammates just a little bit more when they would call him a little shit and other various, foul nicknames in front of you.
Clumsily grabbing one of his hands from where it was still massaging your tit, your legs fall open as you press his palm directly over the material of your pants, almost positive they were wet. “Please just touch me, please—”
Your babbling is interrupted when he begins peppering your face with soothing kisses, apologetically rubbing his thumb over your nipple while the other makes its way under your pants and down to your slit, thoroughly soaked with your arousal.
“This all for me?” he coos as two fingers run through your lips, taking the natural lubricant to rub tight circles over your clit. “You’re soaked, kisu.”
The resulting mewl that escapes you afterwards lives up to the name he just called you. Kitty.
Sebastian watches your reactions with hooded eyes, taking note of the way your breath hitches when he rubs your clit a certain way; he knows the ins and outs of your body by now, but every time you have sex there is still something new to learn, and there is nothing Sebastian is if not eager to learn. He’s particularly fond of the way you arch into him as he sinks two fingers inside you, grinning as you cry out while the calloused pads of his fingertips curl against the spongy wall of nerves nestled near the front of your walls.
With panting breaths and strangled moans, your thighs shake as his thumb finds its way back to your clit and rubs it in circles the same way his fingers are doing inside you. Your stomach feels as if it’s in knots, hands gripping the sheets beneath you so hard they’ve gone numb, and your mind is blissfully blank except for the repetitive thought of more more more.
You echo this sentiment to him, to which he merely picks up the pace in response. It’s almost too much but a good too much, like the peak of your pleasure is just climbing higher and higher, almost impossible to reach but you can feel it right there—
Suddenly, all pleasurable movements stop. You snap your head up, aghast, cheeks flushed with arousal and now irritation because were were so fucking close and now all you’re left with is a disappointed burn between your legs. “Sebastian, what the actual fuck,”
The very man himself licks his lips, looking all too pleased with the way you’re relying on him to help you finish. “Patience,” is all he says, flashing you a shiny smile before skilled hands are sliding the rest of your pants and underwear down your legs. Instinctively your legs try to close at the feel of cold air hitting your pussy, but Sebastian is having none of it as he swiftly pries your thighs back apart.
“Shy?” He teases, stroking your inner thigh before pulling his shirt off his head. You have a reply prepared, but quickly lose your train of thought as his torso is revealed; Sebastian is all hard planes of muscle, golden skin with a light dusting of body hair, and so distinctly male he has you practically drooling as you reach out to trail your hands down his chest.
“You’re beautiful,” you breathe, wrapping your arms around his waist to bring his body down on top of yours. You want, no, need him close to you. While your veins were still full of liquid fire, your nerves so hot that every brush of his skin against yours left you quaking, there is still a certain amount of intimacy that could always be found within your actions towards each other.
A certain intimacy that leads to whispered praises like these; Sebastian flushes, momentarily forgetting the role he vowed to take after the agony that had been wreaking havoc in his mind since his team’s loss. “Kulta,” he says, breath hitching as he presses his lips to your neck to taste the light sheen of sweat covering your skin. He kisses your body like you are his shrine, sworn to you in utter devotion. “Kaunis tyttöni.”
My beautiful girl. Every word from that point onward tumbles past his lips in Finnish, because in what other way can he describe the beauty you encapsulate? You are an angel, after all, his angel, in fact, and his only. With his hands settling on the curves of your waist to further cement his point, he continues his assault on your neck with teeth and tongue all while he grinds his covered dick against your bare pussy.
“Sebastian?”
“Yeah?”
“Fuck me, please,”
And just like that, the indescribable need to claim claim claim takes over his body once more. His eyes darken, the lust swallowing his senses moving him to quickly strip the slacks he wore off his legs, and then he reaches into his boxers to pull out his dick.
You could never get over the sight of his cock, you think momentarily as you stare, mesmerized by the flushed head and leaking tip. He took on more girth than length, and to you it’s nothing less than perfect because Sebastian is the only man who has ever gotten you to the point where you’re unable to walk the next day.
Maybe that speaks more of his knowledge of the female anatomy compared to your exes, but nonetheless you’re grateful.
You bite your lip, one of your hands falling from his back to reach down and take his erection in your hand. Sebastian hisses through his teeth at the feeling of you gripping him, and watches for a moment as you stroke him almost gently.
“I’m going to need you to stop that,” he speaks, a groan following right after before he quickly swats your hand away.
You frown, a slight pout on your lips. “Why?”
“Because I’m going to come in two minutes like a teenager if you keep it up, kisu.”
“Well when you say it like that—”
You’re interrupted by Sebastian slamming your lips back together, your words gone just as quickly as they’d come. Oh, how you could kiss him for ages and never be sick of it. You say this to him, or at least attempt to, before his hand not buried in your hair finds its way back down to your clit and rubs rather roughly.
“Want to taste you,” he mumbles, drunk on the sight of you under him as he lines up his dick with your entrance. “Want to taste you so bad. But I need to be inside you first,”
You try to respond, but then Sebastian is kissing you again right as the head of his cock pushes its way into your cunt. It burns, but a good burn because you would never be used to his size and the feel of him sliding deeper sets all your nerve endings on fire. You’re forced to adjust quickly, and something about him not caring if you’re ready or not has you dripping.
“Oh fuck,” you whine, restless hands weaving through his hair and all over his back, refusing to settle. You didn’t know what to do with yourself, too consumed with how good it felt being stretched to lie still beneath him. “Feels so good, Seb,”
“Yeah?” he huffs into your ear, hot breaths against your skin sending shivers down your spine. “God, you’re perfect,” Sebastian groans, his hips suddenly snapping forward. The angle has him hitting the sweet spot inside you perfectly, your walls clamping down tight around him which sends you both spiraling.
You cry out as he begins moving, the strength behind the force of his thrusts staggering because very rarely did he lose control with you. Sebastian tends to treat you like priceless jewelry, but you’re anything but tonight as his teeth sink into your neck to muffle his moans.
His pubic bone rubs against your clit deliciously every time his hips come down, and you couldn’t help but try and tilt your own upwards to match him. Sebastian clearly appreciates your efforts, hissing something that sounds distinctively like a curse.
Past the ringing in your ears, you can hear him muttering to himself. His eyes are squeezed shut against the rolling tides of pleasure coursing through his body, but his mouth is anything but closed. Then his head is lifting suddenly, hair now slick with sweat hanging over his eyes as he looks down at you.
“I need you to come around me,” he says, voice nothing more than a rasp. “Want to feel you squeezing me.”
“Please,” you interrupt, but he either doesn’t hear your plea or chooses to ignore you.
“Then I’m going to taste you, and when you come I’m going to fuck you again.”
Your head is nodding rapidly at his words because there is zero part of you that ever wants him to stop. It was almost primitive the way he was taking you, and you maybe liked it a little more than you should.
Sebastian picks up the pace, and you find yourself thankful - not for the first time - for his insane amount of stamina. The strength conditioning he goes through on a daily basis makes you wonder how he doesn’t just die, but nonetheless you can’t help but appreciate it.
His hands find their way under your back in the midst of your appreciative thoughts, settled on your lower back just above your ass, when he tilts your hips up and his cock strikes the sensitive, spongy spot inside you head-on. It has you keening loudly, uncontrollably—one of your hands previously gripping the sheets jerkily moves to cover your mouth, your own noises embarrassing you.
He doesn’t notice at first, too busy moving his hips in the same pattern as before because he enjoys the way you grip him like a vice, your body’s way of telling him he’s doing a good job, but when he sees you trying to muffle your noises he instantly grows possessive.
Possessive of you, your noises, because in his feral mind everything about you belongs to him and Sebastian doesn’t want you ever holding yourself back. Your name falls from his lips darkly, “You don’t hide yourself from me,” one of his hands drags yours from your mouth, the other splaying across your lower back to keep your body in the same position.
You try to apologize, but your breath escapes you when his hand slides itself down your body, brushing past one of your nipples, then dipping into your navel where his fingers once again find your swollen clit. He rubs quickly, dick ramming into you even faster than before.
Now more than ever Sebastian wants you to come undone beneath him, and soon he gets his wish as the calloused pads of his fingertips roll your clit in time with one, two, and then on the third thrust your entire body seizes.
Tensing, clenching, shuddering—your eyes flutter as your vision goes white, and you feel nothing except for wave after wave of overwhelming pleasure rushing through you. Vaguely, you feel what you think is Sebastian gently continuing his ministrations on your clit in time with slow thrusts, helping you ride out the waves of your orgasm.
Then your eyes are opening after what feels like hours but had really only been minutes of you going still. You tense again, this time with sensitivity rather than pleasure, and he reads your body perfectly as he slides out of you, removing his fingers from your clit at the same time.
You come to a realization then, “Wait, you didn’t come,” you murmur, and Sebastian has a mischievous sparkle in his eye that makes you think he held himself back on purpose. You’re proven right when he suddenly slides down your body, hands prying your thighs apart before settling on your hips, holding you open like his very own buffet.
He lets out a long sound, like he still can’t believe you’re right here in front of him, and then his mouth is meeting the slick folds of your pussy. The timespan between your first orgasm and him now feasting on you has your mind reeling, blissfully going numb as his warm, wet tongue licks into you.
“Sepe,” you whine, having not yet decided if you could handle another orgasm so close to your last. He parrots your name back, the vibrations from his voice rumbling pleasantly. “You can take it,” he coos, hooded eyes watching your face as his lips now fully latch onto your clit. He sucks, steadily picking up the intensity until your thighs are shaking uncontrollably.
He doesn’t stop, not as your cries grow louder and you subconsciously try squirming away from him. He just holds your hips down, anyways. As his tongue joins the mix, dipping down to flick at your nub suctioned in between his lips, one of his hands moves down to dip two fingers into your folds.
Sebastian groans at your wet heat enveloping his digits, already greedy for the feeling of you squeezing his dick again. Then he starts thrusting his finger, timing it with the flicks of his tongue, and then you’re coming all over again. “There you go, such a good girl for me,” he praises as your pussy spasms, eagerly lapping up your juices like you’re his favorite meal.
Oh god. You are officially fucked-out. You definitely have a bad case of sex-for-brains. You can’t think beyond the sensitivity of your overwhelmed nether regions, and yet as Sebastian crawls up your body for the third time you can’t help but have your legs fall open to welcome him.
This is new for him, too. Sebastian’s endurance is extraordinary, yes, but he never really let himself use it to his full extent with you. Now, though? He wants to explore the thrill of dominance, of controlling you when everything else in his life slips through his fingers.
Against his will, he thinks of his team for a moment. It’s still too raw of a feeling, he finds, hating the way disappointment and frustration bubbles up inside him. Sebastian swallows roughly, squeezes his eyes shut as if that would help block out the sound of the final buzzer ringing in his ears, and then kisses you to distract himself.
As he lines himself back up with your entrance, you both find that the energized tension between you has cooled significantly. Sebastian is less restless and jerky with his movements, and your desperation has cooled as your legs wrap around his waist. He whimpers into your neck, then, his arms curling under your back to press your bodies even closer together.
Your roles switch, and you whisper sweet and dirty nothings into Sebastian’s ear as his hips roll into you. The head of his cock scratches that delicious part inside of you, and soon your words turn into gasps which are music to his ears. One thrust has you squeezing him particularly hard, and his rhythm stutters. “Fuck, you feel amazing,”
His lips form into an o-shape, and suddenly he finds that his high is coming (hah) much quicker than expected. He expresses such, or thinks he does, because all you do is moan in response when his thrusts pick up speed.
He wants to send you into your third orgasm before letting go himself, and even though Sebastian has been rather selfish tonight, one thing that would never change is that your pleasure would always come before his—no matter what.
“Gonna come for me?” Sebastian teases, lips managing to curl into a brief smirk before you’re squeezing him again, wiping it right off his face. “Yeah? Look so pretty taking my cock, baby,”
“I’m close,”
“I know. Let go for me.”
And let go you do. You seize up, not for the first time tonight, before shuddering with full force in the wake of your third release. Your vision goes white in time with the ringing of your ears as you’re consumed in it, feeling too much but also not enough at the same time because your boyfriend is a force you could never get sick of.
Your walls are squeezing Sebastian like a vice, and it only takes him a few more thrusts as you ride out your orgasm before he’s falling into his own. He groans from deep in his chest, arms shakily moving to rest on either side of your head as he buries his own in your neck.
He sinks his teeth into your shoulder as his dick pulses inside you, pumping you full of his cum while you shudder beneath him. It fills Sebastian with a primal sense of satisfaction, knowing he’s claimed you from the inside out.
You’re his, still repeats itself in his mind on repeat, until both of your bodies are spent and he’s rolling off of you exhaustedly. You’re still panting when he turns to look at you, and without hesitation he pulls you into his chest so you can rest your tired body against his.
It takes you a few minutes until you can muster the energy to move, and when you do it’s to tilt your head up to look up at him. You murmur his name, quietly, lest you disturb the fragile peace the two of you find yourselves in. “Sepe?”
“Mhmm?”
“Do you feel better?” It’s a loaded question, you both know, and he takes a few minutes to think about it.
Sebastian’s body feels better, yes. It’s limp, relaxed, the achy tension long-gone from his muscles. The moment he first sank into you he felt immensely better, actually, now that he thinks about it.
His mind, however, is a completely different story.
Colors of red, orange, and blue flash behind his eyes; the colors of his jersey and the opposing team’s, with the haunting sound of the final buzzer still playing in his memory. He thinks of the anger, of his teammates’ faces as they marched defeatedly into the locker room.
No, he thinks with sudden clarity. No, he doesn’t feel better. Sebastian doesn’t say this though; it probably isn’t the answer you want to hear, considering how you explored a new aspect of your relationship tonight.
You know, though. You always know—Sebastian is your better half, and you can understand him more than your own self sometimes, now being one of those moments.
“I love you,” you say after several minutes of silence. Your declaration - the first of the night, he suddenly realizes - says everything he needs to know, about how you feel for him and that he has your support no matter what.
Sebastian swallows, finding that his throat is parched. Lying naked under the sheets, vulnerable and oh-so-exposed, he lowers his head to kiss you sweetly. You mold together softly, and a low rumble can be felt from his chest as you gently nip at his bottom lip.
He is a man of few words, preferring to show his feelings with actions rather than words and this just happened to be one of those moments. He loves you so much, more than words can describe, his lips say, before they gently part from yours.
You admire him in his full glory before he opens his mouth to speak. His hair is incredibly ruffled, from both your hands and the game he played, his full lips swollen red from your kisses, and his eyes have a light sheen to him that suggest he’s more emotional than letting on.
Sebastian raises a hand to your cheek, large yet gentle palm caressing the soft skin as he gazes at you like you’re precious porcelain. “I love you,”
Your lips break into a small smile, and then you’re curling farther into his chest. You’re far too comfortable to move, figuring aftercare in the bathtub can come later. For now, you’re content; your body is sated, and with his cum dripping down your legs you’ve never felt so full with love.
Sebastian knows he has hell to face tomorrow morning. He knows it, but doesn’t really care. For now, in the peaceful silence of his room with only the gentle sounds of your breaths to keep him company, he chooses to forget.
He’s only one man, after all. He can’t carry his team, but he can carry you.
A/N: This is the first time I've written in present tense, which was actually a lot harder than I thought because I kept using past tense action verbs 💀 it was a fun challenge though!! Hopefully my parents never ask me what exactly it is that I write about because. Uh. Yeah. Once again, please reblog and comment :))
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Independence
Charlie moves out. Again.
>> Independence <<
Charlie thought the tricky part of moving out of her parents’ would be dealing with her parents.
They weren’t the overbearing or overprotecting type, which was nothing short of a miracle considering their career choices. Well, her mom’s career choice and her dad’s free time activity choice. But that wasn’t the point.
Charlie had expected they’d react in a similar way to the first time she moved out. Bob had checked every possible detail in that apartment. Lee had insisted Charlie took nearly half their house’s contents, even though Charlie’d estimated she wouldn’t need approximately 70% of that. The shoebox of an apartment had been a great excuse to dodge from all the extra stuff.
This time, they took Ben’s words for it when he said the place was fine. To be fair, it was his professional opinion, so they should take it. Lee hadn’t been pushing Charlie to pack half the planet. She only told her to raid the pantry and had been (mostly) fine with what Charlie’d packed.
The tricky part was fitting the boxes in Ben’s car. Charlie’s approach could be summarized to ‘grab a bigger hammer’, but the box of books didn’t look like it’d cave. If anything, Gray and the two volumes of Harrison were probably mocking her.
“There’s a reason you’re a doctor and I’m an architect.” Ben shook his head at it “Gimme that.” He extended his hands to take the box.
“That’s basic Physics.” Charlie handed it over “Two bodies can’t occupy the same space at the same time.”
Ben smirked and arched an eyebrow.
“Tell you what: you make this fit without using more strength than me, I’ll get you extra fries.”
“Deal.” He grinned. Ben set the box down and scanned the trunk. Took some of them out, rearranged here and there and voila. “Make sure they’re not cold.”
“Don’t be smug.” Charlie rolled her eyes.
“Here.” Lee pulled a medium-sized suitcase out of the house and handed it to Charlie.
“What’s this?” she looked at it and back at her mom.
“We’re not a storage unit; it’s yours, you take it.” Lee raised her hands.
“I have to keep all of this for another two years!” Charlie complained.
“Tough luck, sweetheart.” Lee called out “Shove it in there somewhere.” She told Ben.
“Don’t.” Charlie warned him “Mom, I don’t wear any of this.”
“Yes, I am shocked my daughter doesn’t operate in cocktail dresses.” Lee deadpanned “Be prepared. It’s the family motto.” She waved it off and went back inside.
“Grammy said it’s ‘wisdom and honor’!” Charlie called out.
“It’s wise to be prepared!” Lee shot back from the distance.
“So, I guess you’re taking this?” Ben gestured the suitcase and the trunk.
“It wouldn’t be a huge loss if it fell on the side of the road. Just saying.”
Ben chuckled with an eye roll and stuffed it in the trunk.
“I think you’re good to go. I’ll do the last round and shove anything else in Dad’s car.”
“You go, I’ll help him with the furniture.” He gave her the car keys.
“It’s a bed and a dresser. How much help does he need?”
“Dad thinks he’s forty, but he’s sixty-four.” Ben told her.
“You spend more time with him than I do.” Charlie raised her hands in surrender.
“Seriously, no cold fries.”
.
Nic pushed the door opened with her hip as she carried a couple of piled up boxes inside, “Hey, did you label these correctly?”
“Yeah.” Charlie pushed the stack of suitcases in.
“Do you own anything other than clothes and books?” Nic sorted the boxes into the different rooms.
“There’s a bathroom box.”
Nic popped her head in the bedroom, “How are you supposed to live on clothes, books and a bottle of shampoo?”
“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.” Charlie left the bags in the corner and looked around. It looked better after she and Nic had scrubbed the place top to bottom in the morning. Natural light was pouring in; the closet on the wall opposite to the window had a nice size. The white walls were bland, but that would be dealt with later.
“I have yet to see a box labeled kitchen.” Nic pointed out.
“Oliver and Lyla are on it.” Charlie dismissed it.
“There were kitchen boxes when you moved back from Oakham.”
“No, there were kitchen boxes when I moved to Oakham.” Charlie specified “I sold most of it before I moved back.”
“I thought were drinking out of paper cups because you’d packed everything, not because you didn’t own a glass.”
“I wasn’t gonna need it.” Charlie shrugged.
“And now the sixteen-year-old is picking your plates.”
“Yes, our baby’s all grown up.”
“She’ll get you Snow White ones.” Nic warned.
Charlie laughed, “Oliver wouldn’t let her.”
“I have some Disney themed mugs that say otherwise.” Nic’s phone beeped in her pocket “Ben needs a hand.” She checked the text message.
In a few minutes, Charlie had gone from owning clothes, books and a bottle of shampoo to the proud owner of a bed and a dresser. Well, almost. The proud owner of parts of a bed and a dresser, because Bob and Ben were standing in the middle of her bedroom discussing where and when sunlight hit.
They were cut from the same cloth. Tall, broad-shouldered, standing there with one hand on their hips and the other gesturing to where they thought the furniture should go. But the differences now showed. Ben was taller, broader, his jaw line was sharper. Bob wasn’t forty anymore and standing next to his twenty-eight-year-old hammered it in.
“Anybody home?” Lyla’s voice broke Charlie out of her thoughts. She headed for the living room.
Lyla set all the boxes – pots, plates, cutlery, glasses – on the counter.
“So much for discreet.” Nic nudged Oliver.
“She only carried it up here from the car.”
“We can’t encourage her to bend gravity like this.” Nic lowered her voice.
“There was no one around.” Oliver said “Or I wouldn’t have agreed.”
Nic wasn’t fully convinced.
“Besides, I couldn’t have brought everything in a single trip.”
“Your card.” Lyla returned it to Charlie “Where do you want me?” she clasped her hands excitedly.
“Can you and Nic tackle the books, Ollie and I’ll get the kitchen?” Charlie offered “And you two,” she popped her head into the bedroom “figure this out today. I’m working 24 hours tomorrow and I don’t wanna come home to unpack.” She left the room again.
“She sounds like my mom.” Bob lowered his voice telling Ben.
“I heard that!”
“See?” Bob gestured vaguely at the direction the sound had come from.
About twenty minutes later, Bob announced he was done while shoving his phone, wallet and keys back into his pockets.
“Already?” Charlie shut the newly organized mug cabinet.
“How long do you think it takes to assemble a bed?” Bob frowned at her “Anyway, I’m off.”
“But we haven’t eaten yet.” Charlie shook her head.
“Next time.” Bob promised “Lee has a day off and I wanna make the most of it.” He kissed the top of her head, “Lyla, Friday?”
“Yes. I’ll see you at Murphy’s.”
One last wave and Bob was gone.
“What’s on Friday?” Oliver asked his cousin.
“Architecture is on the list of possibilities, so I asked Bob if I could tag along and he agreed.” Lyla readjusted her ponytail “He’s picking me up after lunch at the restaurant.”
“We haven’t been there in a while.” Nic’s mouth watered at the mention of Murphy’s.
“If you guys are free on Monday…” Oliver suggested.
“We could make it a Murray Moore McKenna thing.” Charlie agreed.
“Ahem.” Oliver cleared his throat.
“Murphy Murray Moore McKenna.” Charlie amended.
“Bedroom’s done.” Ben announced “When are we eating?” he rubbed his hands in anticipation.
“We’re almost finished.” Lyla said.
“I think if we go now, by the time we get back, you’ll be finished.” Charlie noted.
“I’ll drive.” Ben grabbed his keys from the counter “The usual?” he looked around and the nods were enough of a response.
.
There had been a part of Charlie wondering if this place had been the right choice. She hadn’t lied to Nic when she called it cozy, but Nic hadn’t been wrong to call it small either. But sitting on her living room floor (a couch was a problem for Future Charlie to deal with) with her siblings – both the real one and the ones who might as well have been – laughing over burgers, fries and milkshakes made it seem like everything was fine in the world. Yeah, this was home. It didn’t look like much yet, but she’d make a home out of it.
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If You Want It Done
summary: after a disappointing playoff loss, brady reappears on your doorstep eight months after he ended things. and he has nothing on his mind but taking out his frustrations by having you desperate and keening for him once again. however, you aren't about to submit without a fight.
song inspo: NFWB by Hozier & Rats by Motionless in White
word count: 5.1k
warnings: feminine reader. smut! hair pulling, fingering, unprotected penetration, spanking, slight choking, oral (m receiving), and - as always - a healthy amount of dirty talk. plus somewhat toxic and insanely cocky brady.
a/n: no tricks here. just a sweet treat in the form of long- awaited Brady Skjei smut. technically it's a continuation of this blurb, but i just combined the original and the addition into one fic for you all. enjoy and happy halloween.
Sadness. Humiliation. Shame.
Those should be the emotions running through Brady as the plane lands back in Carolina after Game 4 of the Eastern Conference Finals. Because he wasn’t back ready to fight for another win. He was here to pack his bags and go home.
The best team in the Metro. Swept. By a wild card team who barely made the playoffs.
It was a disaster, an embarrassment. And Brady should feel the heavy weight of that failure, even if he might only be responsible for one-nineteenth of the blame. Or, at least, he should feel the waves of sadness crashing over him about the way it ended, or the mere fact that it did end.
But he didn’t. Perhaps he had earlier, when that final buzzer sounded and the fans in South Florida cheered. But now, having sat with those feelings for the better part of 24 hours, he was no longer sad.
He was angry.
And so, when the wheels touched down in Raleigh and he collected his car, he didn’t drive home.
Instead, he drove to yours.
~
A tired sigh leaves you as you pull up to your quaint cottage-style home. A long work week was cause for an even longer relaxing weekend and you were ready to start that weekend by getting inside and having a long nap. Or a strong drink. Or perhaps both.
However, after hopping out of your car and wandering up the small path that leads to your front door, your plans placed on a momentary hold when you see someone leaning against your siding, their baseball cap pulled low.
“I’m not interested in whatever you’re selling,” you call out, ready for this stranger to flash you an award-winning smile and tell you all about how their company could save you money on roofing repairs after last week’s storm.
But when their head lifts, you stop in your tracks as you recognize the face staring back at you.
Hell, you used to wake up to it every morning for eight months. Until he ended things.
“Brady.”
His name falls from your mouth in complete practiced apathy. You didn’t need him to know how much time you spent crying over him in the last month. You especially didn’t need him to know how your heart still skipped a beat when his eyes connected to yours.
“Did you see the game?” he asks.
“I heard.”
“And?”
“And what? Do you want to cry for you?”
There’s a humorless chuckle that comes from Brady as his head falls before he takes a step towards you.
“You always knew how to make me feel better,” he says, the sarcasm lacing his voice. And when you hear it, that dry scathing tone, you realize that you didn’t recognize the man in front of you.
Brady was always soft, gentle, welcoming. It made the dichotomy between you even more obvious; you all sharp edges and harsh words and burning fire. It was part of the reason the two of you broke up.
But this Brady… there was something different. Something dangerous. it intrigued you. But not enough for you to give in.
“I’m not going to coddle you, Brady. You should know that by now.”
“I don’t want your sympathy.”
“What do you want then?” you ask, finally taking a few steps forward, closing the gap between you and your front door. “You want my pity? You want me to say ‘poor you, poor Brady’?”
It’s your turn to let a scoff fall from your lips as you reach into your bag for your keys, Brady now behind you.
“If you wanted someone to feel sorry for you, you came to the wrong fucking house,” you explain, unlocking the door.
Before you can even reach the handle, you feel Brady step forward, his hands falling on your hips as his body crowds you into the smooth wood. You attempt to take a deep breath to calm your heart but it doesn’t help because when you breathe in, your senses are filled with the smell of his cologne. A smell so familiar. One you missed.
Brady moves closer, his body almost pinning you to the door and you can’t stop your knees from trembling as you feel the heat of him behind you.
“I came here because I missed you,” he whispers into your ear.
“And it took you getting your ass kicked to realize that?” you shoot back. Although, the waver in your voice betrays you, revealing how much your body was responding to him; his touch, his words, his warmth. Brady just lets his previous sentence continue, as if he didn’t even hear you.
“And because I know you missed me just as much.”
You couldn’t let him do this – let him come crawling back to you when he was broken or bored. You no longer belonged to him. It was a recipe for disaster.
“I think you’ve forgotten that I’m not one of those girls that would fall on their knees for you.”
“You seemed to enjoy being on your knees for me when we were together.”
“And we’re not together anymore. So, find someone else to fuck your frustrations out on.”
“Is that what you did?”
“None of your business.”
You feel his grip on your hips tighten and you barely have time to react as he effortlessly spins your body until your back is pressed against the wood of the door, your eyes now looking up at him.
“You’re lying.”
Brady almost spits out the words, as if even the barest suggestion that what you said was true was poison to him. Your eyes follow the movement in his temple, the clenching of his jaw, the storm in his eyes. This wasn’t the side of Brady that you knew.
But it was a side that you were always curious to discover. Throughout those eight months, you wanted to know if Brady had that same fire hiding within him – a passion and intensity that could match yours. And now, you could finally see it peeking through.
You wanted it to come out completely.
“And you can tell?” you ask, wielding your words with edge and precision. “Does that make you feel worse? If I told you about all the other men that ended up in my bed?”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“I wouldn’t? Are you sure? You knew what you giving up when you left. Can’t blame me for moving on.”
“You wouldn’t,” Brady repeats, one hand falling away and you barely have time to comprehend where it had gone when you feel the steady weight of the door fall away from you.
Your body lurches back, the momentum pulling you until it is abruptly stopped by Brady’s strong arms, pulling you close and lifting you over the threshold. Your feet find the hardwood of your floors before Brady is spinning you again and you find yourself pressed against the door once more, this time inside your house instead of without.
“You wouldn’t,” he reiterates, “because no one could make you feel as good as I did.”
You hear the deadbolt click, the sound causing the heat pool in your stomach. Brady’s hand moves back to your hip, pulling you close again as he leans in until your lips are barely touching. It’s intoxicating, having him this close to you once again. You are about to surge forward, connect your lips to his, let your fire burn with his. Until Brady speaks again.
“No one could make you feel as good as I’m about to.”
That statement pulls all rationality from you and you don’t hesitate to close the gap between you, crashing your lips onto his. Brady returns the kiss with as much intensity, his hands gripping you tighter while yours move to trace over his arms, his broad shoulders before tangling into that salt-and-pepper hair. The kiss is frantic, all teeth and tongues and it takes a moment before Brady finally pulls away, connecting those brown eyes to your own
“You’re mine,” he whispers. “You always will be.”
The words cut right through you; as a threat or a promise, you weren’t really sure. But the instant that Brady crashes his lips back into yours, you find that you don’t care.
God, you missed this. You would be lying if you didn’t spend many restless nights reminiscing on how his hands felt on your body. How his lips felt on your skin.
But you wouldn’t tell him that. The words would never leave your mouth, not while Brady is standing in front of you. You wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. At least, not yet.
Instead, you get lost in Brady’s kisses, your hands coming to tangle deeper in his hair, pulling him closer to you as your hips roll up to meet his. You think you can hear a dark chuckle rumble from Brady and vibrate directly into your body, sending sparks of electricity flowing through you. His hands roam across your body, up from your hips to the soft material of your blouse before landing on your breasts, giving them a squeeze, causing your head to fall back.
“Missed these perfect tits,” he mumbles, his movements against your chest continuing in response to the soft moan falling from your mouth. Your moan turns into a sharp gasp as Brady grips the center of your shirt and tears it open. The sound of the buttons scattering across the hardwood floor floods your ears and it inexplicably turns you on even more.
If this was any other man, you would be pissed off at him for ruining your one of your favorite shirts. But this was Brady. A new Brady.
In those eight months you were with him, he was nothing but a gentleman, both outside and inside the bedroom. And he was more than satisfactory. But you knew there had to be something underneath all that charm. An untamed animal just waiting to be unchained.
And if this was the key to its cage, you weren’t about to stop everything to cry over a few buttons. But that didn’t mean you weren’t going to complain at all.
“You’re buying me a new shirt,” you mutter against Brady’s lips. Brady swiftly removes his mouth from yours as he looks down at your newly exposed bra.
“Gonna buy you something new to wear under it,” comes his response as his thumbs trace over the edge of the plain nude material and this time, you can stop your eyes from rolling in annoyance.
“Do you really think I wear lingerie to work?” you quip, staring up at him.
You can see his eyes harden and it is in that moment that you realize he was enjoying this. The chase, the tease, the dare, the push and pull between the two of you.
“If you don’t like it,” you continue, your voice taking on a sultry tone as you continue to meet his dark brown eyes, “then take it off.”
The quick sparkle that appears in his brown eyes makes you think that he has taken the bait, that you might have gained some control over the situation at hand – a situation that you were wholly unprepared for but welcomed none the less. And when Brady leans back in to lock you lips together once again, his hands wandering around your ribcage towards your back, the confidence grows.
However, it takes a sharp plummet when you feel his hands drop from your frame. If Brady had given you a split second longer, you would have broken the kiss to question or quip him again. But you have barely any time to miss the sensation of his hands on your skin before you feel them grip the back of your thighs as Brady uses his athletic strength to effortlessly lift you off the floor.
You gasp, a gasp that Brady gladly swallows before he spins, tearing his lips away from yours to look around your house. There is a part of you that wants to tell him nothing has changed from the last time he was there – the furniture is the same, your bedroom is still two doors down on the left – but your lips have already busied themselves marking the smooth skin on his neck.
There was also a power in your decisions; forcing him to find his way through your space all while doing your best to distract him. And it seems to be working as you feel Brady’s pulse shudder underneath your mouth.
You feel him take a lurching turn right and a slight flash of confusion runs through you until you feel his body lowering. The soft material of your couch hits your knees and the skirt you had on flows out around you as you now straddle Brady.
“Forgot where the bedroom was?” you chirp into his neck, feeling his desperate hands return to your torso as he removes the tattered remains of your blouse from your waistband.
It seems that it takes a minute for your words to register but when they do, Brady’s hand lifts to tangle in your hair. Another gasp escapes from your chest as his fingers tighten before pulling your head away from his neck. He quickly reverses the roles, his own lips moving to your newly exposed throat, your breath transforming from gasps to soft sighs as his mouth works against your skin.
“Who says I’m not going to take you there after I’m done here?”
“Who says I would let you back into my bed anyway?” you retort to keep some semblance of control.
Your pathetic attempt is clearly read by Brady, who makes you falter once again as the hand not tangled in your hair effortlessly unclasps your bra. His lips depart from your neck as he helps slide the material down your arms, throwing it carelessly somewhere in the room. You both hate and love the smirk that appears on his face as he takes in your heaving chest, your pebbled nipples. His dark eyes dart back up to you briefly before he is tugging you into him for another animalistic kiss.
“Seems that you like it so far,” he whispers into your open mouth before he pulls away again, lifting your body upright and pulling you closer. “I’ll take my chances.”
You wish that you could say something back, something to knock his arrogant confidence down a peg but your mind goes blank as his lips move to your collarbone, leaving faint hickeys against the taut skin before moving down to your chest. His lips close around one of your nipples, tongue moving to tease the sensitive peak as his hands rest on your ribcage, his thumbs running across the delicate skin on the underside of your breasts. Your hands fly to the back of his head, keeping him close and you can feel his lips curl against your skin. The action both turns you on and pisses you off, a combination that you weren’t sure could even work until now.
You fly into action, hands moving down to grip the fabric stretched across his broad shoulders, tugging at the material and pulling it upward before he finally breaks away to help you remove the shirt entirely, tossing it away to join your clothes on the living room floor.
His lips return to your chest, moving to leave no skin unmarred with his love bites as your hands drop to his shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle in silent encouragement. Brady’s hands lower before coming to grip your ass and you gasp as he pulls you forward, the action causing your hips to roll. You both let out moans at the sensation of you grinding against him and it turns you on more to feel his erection against your core.
“And here I thought I was the masochist,” you joke, moving your hips of your own volition, pressing deeper into him. The grunt that your actions pull from his chest has you grinning. “Who’d know you get this hard from getting your ass kicked?”
You must’ve struck a nerve, prodded at the memory he came here to forget, because the only thing you hear in response is what could best be described as a growl before he lifts you off of his lap enough to slip out from underneath you. Your brain recognizes the weight of his body disappearing from the couch and you attempt to turn, just to keep your eyes locked on him but Brady doesn’t give you a chance.
His large hand finds the space between your shoulder blades and pushes you forward, your torso falling until your chest meets the back cushions. You can’t stop the gasp that falls, your arms lifting over the edge of the couch as your back arches, your hips pressing back towards Brady now looming behind you.
A dark chuckle echoes throughout the room in response to your actions as he pulls the material of your skirt over your hips, exposing more of your body to him. He doesn’t waste any time, doesn’t even bother removing your underwear, instead choosing to move it to the side before he slips two fingers into your already soaked core.
You let out a moan, your head falling forward as Brady’s hand moves, winding you up and my God, you would be lying if you said you didn’t miss the feeling. His thumb quickly finds your clit, pressing against the bundle of nerves and you can’t stop the way your body responds to his movements.
“That’s what I thought,” he laughs. “You have no right to that attitude when you’re this fucking desperate for me.”
He emphasizes his words with a curl of his fingers, the tips grazing your g-spot and the combined sensation of his hands skillfully moving against you almost has you falling over the edge. Brady doesn’t give you your satisfaction that easily though as he removes his fingers from your core. You whimper at the loss, listening intently to Brady’s movements behind you, impatient to feel him once more.
Brady doesn’t leave you wanting for long as you hear the rustle of his pants hitting the floor and before you can blink, you feel his hands practically tear your panties down your legs before he enters you in one swift, harsh motion.
The moans that you both let out are delicious and desperate. You whine as you move your hips back, pushing him impossibly deeper. Brady groans, his hands quickly finding purchase on your hips, gripping you tight before he begins to move.
“Oh god,” you moan out as Brady fucks into you with quick hard thrusts, showing no mercy, your ass rippling every time it meets his hips. You are grateful for the couch cushions in front of you, helping to support your upper body as your fingers dig into the fabric so deeply that an irrational part of you worries you might tear it.
“Not God, sweetheart. Just me,” Brady replies, his movements barely faltering. “Come on, say my name.”
You wish you could tell him to fuck off, make a quip about his cocky attitude but your mouth doesn’t seem able to form the words or any words for that matter. The only thing you want is for him to continue. A sharp smack against your ass jolts your body forward and your head whips around in surprise, eyes connecting to Brady.
“Say. My. Name,” he repeats, now more command than anything else, every word punctuated by another spank and you are helpless to comply.
“Brady,” you whine, your desperation painted on every letter, your eyes staying locked on him, drinking in his reaction. He groans, his teeth coming to bite his lower lip, his gaze dropping from your face to connect to where his cock disappears into your pussy.
“Fuck, that’s it, sweetheart.”
His quiet encouragement is all you need to continue moaning his name over and over. One of his hands falls from your hips to join yours in gripping the back of the couch, his body now completely covering yours, the new leverage only increasing the strength in which Brady thrusts into you. Your head falls to rest against the back cushion, the sounds of your staccato whimpers and breathy curses filling the living room along with the continuous depraved slapping of skin against skin.
You whine as you feel his hand disappear from your hip and slowly trace up your body, the softness of his touch a sharp contrast. The gentleness doesn’t last long and your whine turns into a gasp as Brady’s large hand wraps around your throat, pulling your head upwards.
“Keep saying my name,” he says, his hot breath fanning across the shell of your ear. “Let everyone know who’s making you feel this good.”
“You are, Brady.”
“Yeah? Can anyone else fuck you like I can?”
“No. Only you.”
“That’s right. Only me,” he growls in satisfaction, emphasizing his words with his rhythm.
“Fuck, Brady, please,” you plead, your voice strained from how much focus it took to pry the words from your mouth. “I’m close.”
“Well then, come on sweetheart. Touch yourself. Remind me how good it feels when you cum on my cock.”
The speed in which your hand falls is reckless, frantic to get that additional pressure that you were craving. As soon as your fingers press against your clit, your head falls back against Brady’s shoulder in relief. His praise is muffled against your skin as he peppers your shoulder with kisses, only interrupted by quiet curses as he feels your core flutter.
It is hot, so unbelievably hot – how he’s fucking you, how he’s holding you – that it doesn’t take long for you to finally fall over the precipice, your own hand faltering against you as your orgasm rocks through your body. A groan falls from Brady as he feels you clench around him; a groan that he muffles by sinking his teeth into the flesh of your shoulder, the additional sensation causing you to moan louder, hips rocking back against him as his motions halt.
The haze that pricked at the corner of your eyes slowly dissipates and you can feel Brady’s hand fall from your neck. The cool air cascades over your back as Brady lifts himself away from you causing goosebumps to appear. A small whimper escapes when you feel him remove himself from your core and steps away. The submissive part of your mind, still in control, panics in fear that he might leave. But the concern is short lived as Brady sits down next to you, pulling you back into his lap.
He wastes no time capturing you in another kiss, stealing any remaining breath from your lungs. Brady attempts to break the kiss but you don’t let him, hands lifting to cup his jaw and pulling him deeper into the kiss. He doesn’t resist and allows you to continue to kiss him, his own arms wrapping around your body.
Eventually your hands move, trailing down his throat, dancing over his chest and you smile against his lips as you feel his abs tighten in response to your fingers sinking lower until they finally reach the desired destination.
You gently take his still hard length in your hand and stroke him a few times, which was easy to do with your prior release clinging to the silky-smooth skin. You grin as you feel the vibrations of Brady’s soft moan in response to your ministrations. The cloud of your orgasm had lifted and, in its absence, your own confidence returned.
“Want me to take care of that for you?” you question, only moving far enough away to ask, your lips brushing against his occasionally. Brady doesn’t respond; you knew he wouldn’t. He had worked too hard to give up the dominance he held over you so easily. But you weren’t deterred.
You kiss him deeply one more time before your lips follow the path your hands previously traced: down his throat, over his collarbones, across his chest. An occasional moan and curse fall from Brady as you continue your descent and you grin, knowing that his resolve was slowly cracking. Your body moves, shuffling from being perched on top of his lap to kneel on the plush carpet between his thighs. Brady’s eyes are needy when your own eyes dart up to meet his stare. Your hand strokes him again but you make no attempt to put your mouth on him, the dare hanging clearly in the air.
“Baby, please,” Brady finally speaks, his hips punching upwards.
“Who’s fucking desperate now?” you quip, unable to contain your excitement at regaining the upper hand. Your jaw drops open in surprise as Brady’s hand darts out, grabbing your neck once more, his eyes growing dark.
“You want to repeat that sweetheart?” he asks, that dominant energy rolling off him again. Except this time, it doesn’t make you back down. Instead, it just spurs you on, that heat and elation as it returns – the battle, the chase. Your dropped jaw just morphs into a wicked grin and you are ecstatic to see a similar smirk twist onto Brady’s lips; a quiet confirmation that he was still enjoying the newfound push and pull between you two.
“Come on Brady. Admit it. You are just as desperate for me as I am for you,” you explain, your voice dipping again into your lower sultry timbre. “Tell me, do any of those other girls have a mouth like mine?”
You flatten your tongue against his shaft and lick a bold stripe up his length before moving your lips to leave a lingering teasing kiss on the head. Brady groans, his head falling back as his hand moves from your neck to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer in an attempt for you to fully wrap your lips around him.
“No one can fuck me like you can?” you continue, hand wrapping around his cock. “Well, you’ll never find someone who can give better head than I can.”
You don’t give him any chance to respond as you surge forward, finally taking him into your wet mouth. Your tongue traces every vein that you could feel as your hand moves against the rest of him. Brady’s moans sounding from above fuel you and you continue to work your sinful magic against his skin.
It may have been months since you two were in this particular position but you feel like a part of you will remember everything about Brady, including all the spots that make him groan and twitch and throb. Your lips move to suck on the tip, teasing the area where the head meets the shaft with your tongue.
“Fuck,” Brady curses, his hips jumping causing his cock to thrust into your mouth. You gag a little before withdrawing – not completely but only enough to catch your breath. Your eyes dart to his and find that he is already staring at you, his salt-and-pepper hair falling over his forehead. The moan you release at the sight vibrates around Brady causing an identical moan to escape him. You inhale deeply before lowering your head, relaxing your throat until the entirety of his cock is nestled in your mouth.
“Goddamn, you’re so fucking good at that,” he groans, his fingers twisting in your hair. You move, shallowly bobbing your head as you feel him pulse against your tongue, a tell-tale sign he was getting close. The assumption was only confirmed by the next word Brady spoke. “Fuck, baby, gonna cum.”
You pull your mouth from him, replacing it quickly with your hand and continuing the pace you had set.
“I won’t waste a drop,” you say, keeping your eyes locked to his as you wrap your lips around him once again, your hands moving to the side his thighs and pressing your fingertips up into them. Brady understands your silent request, hand once again tightening in your hair as he moves his hips upward, taking control.
“Yeah? You going to swallow it all like a good girl?”
You nod your head, keeping your mouth open and accepting everything he gives, moaning against his skin as he increases his pace. It’s only a few more moments before Brady throws his head back against the couch cushions, a long groan emulating from his chest as his own orgasm hits. You feel his cum hit the back of your throat and you greedily pull him deeper, determined to keep your word.
You let Brady collect himself and take a few deep breaths before you slowly raise your head, sliding off of his cock. You wait until his eyes connect to yours before you swallow, releasing a satisfied exhale afterwards. You can’t help but make a show of it, licking your lips before opening your mouth to show him that you indeed didn’t let anything go to waste.
Brady grins, a smile which you quickly mirror before his hands are on your body, hauling you off the floor and back into his lap. Your lips connect and you sigh, savoring the euphoric glow that surrounded the two of you. The two of you continue to make out for a few minutes, relaxing before you pull away, looking down at Brady.
“D’you feel better?” you joke, the remembrance of why he came to your house in the first place – and what it all meant now – nagging in the back of your mind. You aren’t sure if you can see sadness lingering on the corners of Brady’s smile as his hand runs soothing circles across your spine.
“A little.”
“Need anything else?”
“Maybe a shower,” he replies, looking up at you with those brown eyes that always made you weak. A sparkle that spells nothing but trouble for you flashes in his irises as his smile turns into a wicked smirk. “And perhaps a round two, starting with my head buried between your thighs.”
“Demanding, aren’t you?” you breathlessly chuckle, your head shaking in playful disbelief as your tear your gaze from his.
“I just know what I want.”
“Which is?”
“You.”
His quiet declaration has your head turning back to him, connecting your eyes once again. The emotions displayed in his own stare are unfathomable and you know that this isn’t the place to attempt to decipher them. You don’t have time to unwind and unravel the mess that defined you and Brady’s connection: your prior relationship, the subsequent break-up, and everything that happened today.
So, instead, you gently climb from Brady’s lap, standing upright before stretching out your hand towards him. He accepts your offer and you help lift him off the sofa before dragging him down the hallway to the second door on the left, back into your bed.
Like he always belonged there.
Like he never left.
tagging the skjei-sy sluts (affectionate) who asked for a continuation + a few others I think would appreciate this: @smileysvech @pyotrkochetkov @cellythefloshie @comphy-and-cozy @laurenairay
#nicole writes#brady skjei fic#brady skjei imagine#brady skjei smut#carolina hurricanes fic#carolina hurricanes imagine#nhl fic#nhl imagine#hockey fic#hockey imagine
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