#dean charles chapman smut
Text
Let's play a game
A/N - Who remembers the snippet I posted ages ago with the bad boy / good girl. Well, I finally did something with it.
Please enjoy, Chapter one.
The warmth of the sun was the first thing I felt when I woke up, coating me in a blanket of warmth. It was too much warmth, and I was rapidly becoming uncomfortably hot. The second was the throbbing in my head, undoubtedly brought on by all the alcohol I had consumed the night before. And the third was the heavyweight of an arm across my torso. Who did the arm belong to? Well, to be honest, I wasn’t quite sure.
“Shit,” I whispered, cautiously turning on the plush bed, careful to not startle the owner of the arm that lay all too casually around my waist. “Shit, shit.” I moved the arm carefully off my waist, putting it beside its owner.
The owner of the arm was none other than Jude Hastings, the boy I’d known since I was eight, and the boy who’d mercilessly teased me throughout school and somewhat into our adult lives.
People, primarily our parents, often called it teasing— a bit of harmless flirting between an adolescent boy and a dorky adolescent girl, so they said. I, on the other hand, referred to it as warfare.
Which would lead to a lifelong war between Jude Hastings and me.
“Fuck,” I stood from the bed and looked down at what was covering my body… It wasn’t much. All I had on was what I’m assuming was Hastings’ button-down shirt, and that was it. No bra, no pants… And I had no clue where my underwear had gotten to. “Pull yourself together, Darcy,” I whispered to myself. “Just find your shit and get out.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, taking five deep breaths. My mother always told me it was a way to destress, but guess what, mom, I am still stressed. “Okay. Pull it together.” I had seven things I had to find in this apartment, and hopefully, it was all contained to this one room. Anything I couldn’t uncover would just have to be left as a sacrifice to the apartment demon.
My pants and top were the easiest to find, laying at the end of the bed a dead giveaway of where Hastings and I had ended our night standing, or at least standing for the most part. I vaguely recall him pulling me off the bed just to bend me over the desk he had pushed against the wall… I guess that counts as sort of standing.
“Jacket…” I crept around the room, trying to find where my favourite corduroy jacket had landed in the thralls of passion I had shared with the still sleeping demon. “Gotcha,” I pulled on the sleeve bringing it out from behind the chair that sat pushed into the corner. Another memory of Hastings and I making out on the very chair flashed through my mind bringing a blush hot enough to make the top of my ears burn. “Shoes, bra and underwear,” I sat on the floor, pulling my jacket over my arms looking around for a sign of any of the missing clothing. I quickly spotted my bra hanging over the bedpost at the top end of the bed. “Ahha.” I pushed up from the floor and padded across the carpet, keeping a keen eye on Hastings to make sure he didn’t suddenly wake up and catch me in the shameful morning after clothes collection. If I was lucky, I’d leave with all my belongings and whatever scraps of dignity I had left. “Four down, three left.” I scooped the bra off the bedpost and shoved it in my pocket. Watching Hastings, I dropped to my knees and looked underneath the bed in hopes of finding at least one of the remaining items, if not all of them. “Shoes.” I gripped the heel on one of my boots and pulled it towards me, half an item down… The second boot was more brutal to get to. I had to crawl at least halfway under the bed to reach it, somehow it had landed so far underneath the bed last night, but at least now I had shoes to wear for my solemn journey home.
Was underwear really that necessary for a journey home? Could I just leave without them? And my purse, I mean, I’m sure any decent human being with any dignity would give it back to someone who’d left it at their house. Still, then again, this was Jude Alexander Hastings we were talking about. He wasn’t known to me for being a decent human being. Besides, cancelling all my credit cards and getting a new I.D sounded a lot more appealing than risking Hastings waking up with me still inside his apartment with minimal clothing.
“Fuck it.” I army crawled backwards out from under the bed, careful not to get any carpet burns on any delicate parts. Trust me, one time of having sex on some carpet, and you know the pain well enough to not do it again. Once I emerged from the pits of the bed, I took a final look around, trying to find the elusive underwear or purse. “Note to self, cancel the credit card.” I stood up and walked to the pile of items I’d begun to form at the end of the bed: pants, top, bra, shoes and jacket. Five out of seven ain’t bad in the grand scheme of things. I mean, was it my favourite purse? Yes, and were they my favourite pair of lucky underwear? Yes. Could I buy more to avoid any further interactions with Jude Hastings? Fuck yes.
“Missing something?” The husky voice that haunted my alcohol-soaked brain startled me into dropping my pants to the floor. I spun on the ball of my feet and looked at him, lazily lying in his bed. The sheet hanging from his waist was the demon man himself. Since when did he have abs? - No, not the point, Darcy.
“Two things actually,” I felt the rush of heat blossoming on my cheeks as I finally allowed myself to look over his bare chest.
“Would these be one of them?” His hand rose, hooked around his pointer finger was my black lace thong, the one I’d been crawling around this whole fucking room looking for. Bastard. “They sure look like yours.” He held the up higher, squinting with one eye.
“If they’re not mine, perhaps they’re yours,” I smirked in self-satisfaction as the smirk on his face faltered. One Edwards.
“Well, if you’re sure they’re not yours.” He bunched them up, leaning over to his bedside table. “I think I’ll keep them then.”
“Wait.” I yelped, springing onto the bed. “Give them to me,” I reached for them. Holding my hand out, waiting for the lace scrap to be returned to me. “I need them to get home.”
“No, I don’t think so.” He dropped them into his bedside table. “You said they were mine.” One Hastings.
“God, I hate you,” My eyes turned to slits as the smirk came back to his face more prominent than the one I’d managed to make him lose moments ago. He shut the drawer and returned to his previous position, his whisky coloured eyes running over my form.
“Not what you were saying last night.”
“Was that before the double shots of tequila? Or was it before the fishbowl margarita?” I moved back, standing at the end of the bed, pulling my pants up over my hips. Usually, I’d feel self-conscious dressing and undressing in front of someone I’d just had sex with. Still, by this point in our lives, Hastings had already made numerous comments about how ‘plump’ I was, as he liked to call it. I didn’t have time to dwell on the idea that I gave him a front-row pass to see how correct his childish name-calling was. “Or maybe it was before the game of beer pong?”
“Yeah,” He dropped his head and laughed. “It started about there.”
“Hastings, you know as well as I do that I don’t remember a thing about last night, right?”
“Would you like me to give you a play-by-play?” I unbuttoned his shirt with nimble fingers. For once, my skill of unbuttoning button-downs came in use.
“No, thanks. I think I can surmise what’s happened from the lack of underwear.” And the memories of him pushing me up against his front door helped with the overall picture.
“It was your idea,” I stole a look at the bedside table where the same old alarm clock I was sure he’d had since middle school sat. Nine-thirty. Shit. Fuck. Shit.
“Was it now?” I didn’t really have time to hear how this interaction was my fault, but I was curious. Even if I was supposed to be meeting my parents for brunch in half an hour, and by the looks of it, I was going to have to suffer through without underwear.
“Oh yeah.” He fell back onto the bed. “The boys and I were at the bar, and you came up to me… You know I was expecting to have another verbal sparring match with you, one I’d ultimately win.”
“Doubtful,”
“When you began to flirt with me.” I could hear the smirk in his voice even with my back facing him.
“Is that so.” I sat on the edge of the bed and picked up one of my boots, unzipping the side.
“Oh yeah,” I heard the shuffle of sheets on the bed behind me and then felt the warmth of his chest pressing onto my covered back, heat radiating from where his skin touched me. “Never expected this from you, Edwards.” He moved my hair to the side, his fingers leaving goosebumps on my neck as he trailed a fingertip along the skin. “Really, I never did.” His lips touched the skin now, ghosting the same pattern his fingertips had traced.
“Alright,” I stood up, balancing on one foot as I tried to shove my foot into the boot. “I don’t know what this.” I wiggled a finger between our bodies. “Is, but last night was all there was. There will be no encore, M’kay.” I knelt down, zipping up the boot before shoving my foot into the second.
“If you’re sure you can live without one.” He moved back to the top of the bed, leaning back on one arm, watching me scamper to make myself presentable. “You know you’re still wearing my shirt.”
“Thank you, Captain obvious.”
“I’d like it back. It’s one of my favourites.”
“And those.” I jutted a finger at the bedside table where my underwear remained captive. “Were my favourite pair of underwear.” I smiled sweetly at him. “So we’ll call it even,” I brushed my hair with my fingers, trying to make some sort of progress with it so it didn’t look like I’d just been to pound town… which apparently from the ache in my legs I had been.
“You know that’s not helping,”
“What isn’t.”
“Trying to make yourself look like you haven’t just had one of the best nights of your life.”
“Bold of you to assume that,”
“Not an assumption. You told me so much yourself last night.”
Fucking Hastings. That’s it, fuck it. I was getting my underwear back. Even if it meant a small game of seduction.
“Look, Jude.” I let my voice drop into a whisper as I walked towards where he lay comfortably. I flung my legs over his body, straddling his waist. I couldn’t help but internally melt when his hands clinging to my waist, pressing me down onto him. I’m human. What can I say? The thin sheet gave everything away, and I had to admit, Hastings was packing more than I thought. Self-satisfaction flowed through me as I saw his eyes widen slightly, his pupils dilating as his fingers moving in circles on my waist. “I want you to know something about last night.” His eyes locked with mine as my right hand held onto his chin, keeping our eyes locked, my left going to the bedside table quietly pulling it open.
“Yeah?” His Adam’s apple bopped as he swallowed.
“Last night was,” I moved his head, so he was looking away from the drawer as my hand began to search for the fabric. “Was something that I…” My fingertips grazed the lace. BINGO! “I’m going to pretend doesn’t exist.”
“Oh really?” His hand quickly left my hip and grabbed around my waist. “Because I’m going to remember every little detail.” The lace slipped from between my fingertips as he flipped us. “Especially every time I open this draw.” I heard the draw slam shut and all hopes I had of leaving with my underwear gone.
“Get off me.” His right hand pulled my leg up and wrapped it around his waist. Oh god… he was good.
“Oh no, you started this.” He laughed, his chest pressing into mine with each exhaled laugh. “I’m just finishing it.”
“I need you to get off me so I can leave Hastings.”
“I dunno, I’m quite comfortable.” His hand pushed the fabric of his shirt up, revealing a tiny slither of my skin. “I like how you look in my bed, a forbidden fruit who doesn’t belong.” I let out a snort. If this was his attempt at flirting, he had a lot of work to do. “But here you are,”
“You are right. I certainly don’t look like the type of girl you’d waste your time on, so how about you let me up, and we pretend this didn’t happen.”
“No, I don’t think I like that idea,” His voice came out in a soft whisper.
“Why?”
“I was always told girls like you,” I felt a rush of enjoyment as his eyes ran over my body, a rush I didn’t want to feel. “The good girls who their parents think their perfect when really they’re the worst of the worst are the best,” It was beginning to be a struggle to concentrate as his fingertips brushed the hair away from my forehead. “And from what I’ve been told, you’re the best of them… So I want to find out myself.”
“Oh really?”
“Really. Why did you come up to me last night?” Why did I go up to him last night because I was lonely? Because I was sick of April talking about her fiancé? Because as much as I don’t want to admit it, verbally sparring with Hastings was a highlight.
“I heard that the reformed bad boys are the best,” His finger dragged along my jawline. “And I heard you’re one of the best.” I countered with a smirk.
“Oh really?” He mimicked.
“You tell me,” His fingertip tapped against my lips. Impulsively I nipped on the tip.
“Let’s play a game.”
“I’m listening.”
“The game to end all of our little games for good… No more practice jokes, no more telling my parents I got some random girl pregnant.” He chuckled.
“Then you can’t egg my car anymore or let down my tyres.”
“Fine.” He conceded. “Then let’s sweet talk,” His lips went to my neck, placing sweet kisses along the skin. “Let’s play fight, talk twenty-four-seven,”
“I’m no good at sweet-talking, and I don’t think I could stand talking to your for so long.” My voice came out breathy as my senses zero’d in on the feeling of his lips.
“Let’s wish each other good morning, and good night every day… We’ll take walks together.”
“I’d prefer a ride on your motorbike.” He let out a chuckle, the skin under his lips practically vibrating from the motion.
“I’ll give you a nickname,” His lips were on my jaw now, my hands we on his back, nails digging into the skin, I’m sure leaving moon-shaped indents. “Let’s hang out with each other’s friends.”
“Your friends are dicks.” His lips dropped close to mine, a chaste kiss being left on the right side.
“We’ll go on dates, talk all night on the phone… I’ll hold you, kiss you.” His lips moved to the other side. “We’ll make love, bang, fuck whatever you want to call it.”
“I’m waiting for the game part, Hastings. Right now, it sounds like you just want me to be your girlfriend. I mean, I know last night was good, but really this good?”
“The game is, Whoever falls in love first, loses.” He finally pulled away, his right hand still rubbing circles on my hip bone.
“Doesn’t seem like much of a game.”
“Then why do you seem so scared?”
Was this asshole serious? I was never scared, especially not when it came to challenging him, beating him.
“I’m not.”
“Then what do you say?”
“So you want to pretend we’re a thing to all of our friends, all of our family, just to make one of us fall in love with the other first for what? Bragging rights and heartbreak?”
“Tell me something.” His lips hovered inches from mine. I could feel the warmth of his breath, and how the hell did he not have morning breath? “How good would it feel to know you conned me into loving you, then breaking my heart,”
He had a point. After all the years of heartache and teasing he’d caused me, it would be fun to break his heart into a million tiny shattered pieces.
“What would we tell everyone?” His body moved against mine as he shrugged.
“That we’ve reconnected or connected whatever you want to say.”
“You really want to do this?” My brow raised in suspicion.
“Make you fall in love with me.” I nodded my head. “Oh hell yeah,”
“Fine.” I smirked. “Let’s play a game.”
#george mackay#dean charles chapman#calahan skogman#Ben Hardy#dylan o'brien#George Mackay Smut#Dean Charles Chapman smut#Calahan Skogman smut#Ben Hardy Smut#Dylan O'Brien Smut#Harry Styles#Harry Styles Smut
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do you think you could write a smut where dean is stressed out so the reader gives him a blowjob to help him out?
pairing: Dean Charles Chapman x reader
warnings: nsfw (18+ but i'm not your mom [unless like,,, you ask nicely]), oral (m. receiving), suggestive language, there’s only so many words for dick im SoRRY, also i'm writing this at 4 in the morning so who knows what else.
Dean ran his fingers through his hair, pulling the cap off a highlighter with his teeth as he broke down another scene from the script he recently received. For no reason in particular, this character was getting on his nerves and testing his weaknesses as an actor. You wrung your hands as you silently paced in front of his office door, debating whether or not to intrude on him while he was so obviously frustrated. You listened as he shifted in his chair, the plastic creaking as he leaned back and rubbed his eyes. You took a deep breath before rapping your knuckles against the wood of the door frame, pulling his attention towards you as his eyes softened at the sight of you.
You noticed how his hair was getting almost too long as it curled around his ears and framed his face, dark circles around his light eyes making him look a few years older than he actually was. "How's it going?" You asked, stepping into the room as his eyes followed you to turn on another lamp.
He sighed tiredly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the desktop. "Well," he paused, a small grin tugging at his lips before continuing, "it's going." You moved across the floor to stand behind him. Your hands settled against his shoulders, letting your fingers dig into his skin softly to soothe the knot forming between his shoulder blades. He groaned at the feeling, reclining back into your touch happily.
"Anything I can do to help?" You inquired softly, stooping down to smooth a kiss to his cheek. He hummed in response, his eyes shutting momentarily as he relaxed as your hands kneaded against his arms. You combed your brain for how to ease his mind as he exhaled.
And then it hit you. “Fancy a break?” You asked, your hands continuing their motions and he muttered an agreement before swinging out his chair to stand. You stepped in front of him, pushing his chest so he plopped back down. Dean’s eyes flashed up to you with a raised eyebrow and a small grin on his face. He studied your every move as you blatantly pushed your hair out of your face and tied it back into a ponytail as you bent down between his legs.
His lips parted into an almost shocked expression as if he was waiting for you to back out and tell him it was some kind of a prank. You dragged your nails alongside his thigh as he leaned forward slightly. He smirked at you, settling one of his hands into your hair. You turned your head to press a kiss to his palm and bat your eyes at him suggestively. “You’re doing such a good job. Don’t tire yourself out,” you cooed, coyly. Dean nearly rolled his eyes, knowing what you were up to.
You sat up on your knees to capture his lips against yours, eliciting a small moan to echo from his throat at the taste of you. Your hand traveled up his thigh and towards his zipper, his other hand moving to assist you as he grabbed your wrist. You allowed his tongue to slip into your mouth as he pulled you into a deeper kiss. Your fingers icked to please him as you began to palm him through his jeans, his body responding quickly to your advances like it was the first time you’d ever touched him.
As he began to harden beneath your gesture, your lips found their way to his jaw, your teeth skimming across his skin to tease a blush to his cheeks. You coaxed his erection further before you began to unclasp his pants. “Relax, baby,” you murmured against his skin. He moaned softly as your lips traced the divots of his collar bones, your tongue swirling as if to hint at what was in store. You sank back on the balls of your feet, your hand reaching up to push him flat against the chair back. He bit his lip to fight the smile threatening to break across his features as your fingers curled around the base of his cock. He tensed under your grip as you began to pump your hand, drawing out another hushed moan from the man above you. “Does that feel good?” You taunted, looking up at him through your eyelashes.
He exhaled heavily in response, one of his hands moving to rest on your forearm for some kind of support as you encouraged his further arousal. You let your tongue dart out across your lips before pressing them to the sensitive skin of his tip. You focused on how each of your actions caused his body to relax, a small sense of pride swelling deep inside of you at the fact that it was so easy for you to pleasure him. You eased your mouth around his erection, your tongue swirling around his shaft. As your head began to move in tandem with your hand, you basked in the growing vulgarity of his words.
You pulled your mouth off of him, continuing to speed your hand motions gradually as your teeth etched into his thigh. You could watch him unravel for you for the rest of your life; his gaze hazy as he avoided your sultry eye contact, his lips red and aggravated from harsh attempts at keeping himself quiet. Some of his curls were tugged back from being pulled at, his blissed-out expression creating a more prominent redness to his cheeks. Your lips slowly traveled back to his cock, an almost pleading look settling into his bright irises as your intentions were now directed on taking him deeper.
His grip on your arm tightened as you pushed his tip past your lips once again, a strangled groan of pure pleasure hissing through his teeth. As he reached the back of your throat, tears began to brim in the corners of your eyes and his arousal twitched in your mouth. You began to bob your head once again, edging him on further with each of his moans of your name which you knew was a warning that he was close. You alternated the movements of your mouth and hand, making him fight against bucking his hips towards you. His cock tensed and in an instant, hot sticky strands of pleasure were filling your mouth.
You brushed a hand across your chin and Dean leaned forward, digging his fingers into your hair to capture your lips in a worshiping kiss. He moaned against your mouth, sending a vibration straight to your core. You severed the action and stood, leaving him nearly breathless. “Don’t overwork yourself,” you taunted with a small wink, making him look up at you with an almost submissive undertone as he nodded.
#dean charles chapman#deancharleschapman#dean-charles chapman#dean charles chapman imagine#dean charles chapman smut#dean charles chapman fluff#dean charles chapman x reader#dean charles chapman x you#dean charles chapman x y/n#1917 imagine#1917 smut
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Your a-z s are so good!! Omg you’re so talented☺️ could you possibly do one for George? We would all love that💕
thank you anons for these requests. im quite busy atm so im sorry if other requests take a while and thank you for being patient with me.
a-z of dating george mackay
a - argue
neither you or george are shouters, instead you go very quiet when something goes wrong or upsets either one of you. george would huff and mumble, until one of you grew the balls to talk through the issue. you’d be sat on the sofa and he’d just come and sit facing you, taking your hands in his and press his lips to them softly. this was his way of saying he was ready to talk.
b - body (his favourite body part of yours)
george loves your lips and your cheeks. he loves watching you talk, how your mouth moves and he loves how effortlessly your voice tumbles out. he loves how your smile grows when you laugh, small dimples forming in your cheeks - it was enough to make him smile with you. he loves to kiss your lips and your cheeks. whether it was a quick peck here and there or when he’d push you up against a wall and kiss you till you couldn’t breathe. he loved to kiss your lips till they went redder and more plump.
c - care (caring for each other when you’re sick)
when george is ill, he pulls you back into bed anytime you get up, claiming he’s cold and needs your body warmth. whilst you’d comply, you also had stuff you needed to get on with. so you’d sit next to his sleeping figure, trying to quietly type on your laptop or write into your notebook. when you’re ill, george waits on you all day. he’d constantly ask if you needed a drink or food and if you’re being sick, he’ll follow you to the bathroom and hold your hair back. he’d gently rub small circles into your back and carry you back to your bed, when you were too weak to walk alone.
d - dates (what do you guys do?)
being an actor, george loves to take you to the cinema to watch new films that he’d seen about, or heard about at awards nights. sometimes, you’d go and see films that his friends or previous co-workers were in. you’d share popcorn and he’d let you rest your head on his shoulder whilst his arm was wrapped around your shoulders. afterwards, you’d maybe go out for dinner or to a coffee shop, and he’d love to have a discussion with you about the film, what you liked and didn’t, the directing, filming, acting. by the end of the evening, the entire film would’ve been deeply analysed by the two of you and you’d have it no other way.
e - engagements (how he proposed)
he’d take you out to dinner, to celebrate your birthday or anniversary, and after the meal, you’d take a walk back to your flat or the car. but, then he’d take a diversion and say he just wanted to show you something. next thing you know, you’re standing on the rooftop of the cafe you met, staring up at the stars. whilst you were looking away, he’d get down on his knee and then cough slightly to gain your attention. he had planned a small little speech, which went the window the moment you turned around. he tells you how much he loves you, what he loves about you, what he sees in the future for you two, and you can’t help but say yes.
f - friends and family (do they like you/him?)
george’s family were initially weary of your relationship. not because they didn’t like you, but because of how long george spent away from home working. they feared you would both end up ending it soon because you couldn’t cope. as soon as they met you, however, they saw how relaxed george was - different to his typically stressed exterior. when he was away, his mum invited you round for dinner, and his sister was similar in age, so you had a lot in common.
your family feared he would be a distraction from your studies, but once they saw your relationship thriving, they had no fears. your dad liked that he was politically aware and into football, whilst your mum liked the fact he was active in feminism (#pussypower)
g - gifts
when george went away for filming, he’d bring you home stuff. they could be really simple, such as local delicacies or fridge magnets. something simple, that was a small reminder of him every time you opened the fridge.
h - how you met
you met in a cafe. you were sat in the corner, typing away at a script you were working on, nothing official just something that kept you occupied. he happened to take the table next to you and notice you furiously typing away your ideas, jotting down notes in the book next to you. he stood up and walked over to you.
“um, hi. i’m george.”
“hi?”
he told you about him being an actor, asked what you were working on and then asked to read. he complimented your work, and you gave him your number to “keep him updated and ask for advice”. he made a habit of going back to the cafe every day that he could, just to see you. he’d take a seat opposite you and didn’t mind when the two of you sat in silence.
i - intimacy (how often are yall getting down)
oh that man may seem innocent, but he will take you any time, any where. when he came home, the first thing he’d do is take you to your bedroom. he’d go slow savouring the moment - similar to how he would be the night before he had to leave. and the morning. and maybe before he got in the taxi. and then maybe he’d send you some suggestive texts. he lead you to toilets at awards shows for a quickie, or just lay you down on the sofa and go to town.
j - jealousy
when you come to set, some of his male co workers got a little bit close. when you were gone, they’d make jokes to george - he laugh outwardly but inside he was seething. it was easy to feel jealous of people you interacted with when he was away, much as it was for you to be of him working with loads of people, that his character was physically intimate with. however, it didn’t take much for either of you to remind the other of your love ;)
k - kinks
idk if this is a kink but hickies. george loves to litter your neck, chest, stomach and inner thighs with small bruises. he loves seeing a quick flash of the marks whenever your shirt rides up, or your towel exposes a few. he very much loves to mark his territory, as much as likes to see marks you’ve left on him.
l - long distance
a lot of your relationship had been spent long distance, with him working away for 1917 and then the history of the ned kelly gang. every night, you facetimed, till one of you fell asleep, but you’d mostly just do your usual evening routine, just hundreds of miles apart. you’d cook your dinner at the same time, shower, and then sleep. it felt as if you were together, just through a screen. you were obviously limited to what you could do but there was many things you could do to replace what was physically missing. it didn’t take a massive toll on your relationship, but george found it really hard to see you struggling and knowing he couldn’t be there to help - and vice versa.
m - moving in
george asked you to move in, over facetime, whilst he was away filming 1917. he said he wanted to come home to your face every evening, and his flat wouldn’t feel like home without you there. his flat was closer to your uni/work place as it was, so even though you were quite early on into your relationship, it was ideal. whilst he was away, you kept the flat in order every time george came home, he damn near welled up at the thought of you being there waiting for him, in difference to the usual cold, empty flat.
n - nights out
being a student, you went out a lot with your friends. often when george was away, so he’d be delighted to wake up to barely legible texts from you. when he was home, however, the two of you found yourself going to a local pub with dean and some of your other friends and taking part in the pub quiz or darts. sometimes you’d just watch the game that was on.
o - open with each other
initially, you both found it hard to talk to each other, but as all good people do, he had a catharsis. he broke down, relaying all his stresses onto you, to which you comforted him and talked him through it. he can sense when your bottling it up, and even though you’re not massively open with him naturally, he knows when to ask you to talk, and you do, knowing he will be there to support you.
p - pda
george isn’t a massive fan of pda, but he would hold your hand when you walk through town, and when you accompanied him to award shows, his hand would be firmly stationed on your lower back, his fingers rubbing small circles. he’d press soft, small pecks onto your cheek, or your forehead or sometimes, just the simplest act of raising your hand and kissing your knuckles softly would be enough to comfort you.
q - questions (what you talk about late at night?)
you talk about your day usually. it’ll start of as being, “i cant sleep” which will then turn into either one of you starting to talk about something funny that happened or just an overview of how your day went. this would go on until you managed to fall asleep, you soft breathing lulling george into his own sleep.
r - reproduction (do you want kids?)
george wants kids, in fact he definitely has notes on his phone of baby names that he wants to bring up with you. however, he respects your decisions and only wants what you want. he lives by “her body, her decision” but it is something he will ask you one night, casually. to which you respond however you feel.
s - surprising (what surprised you about him)
he loves to dance. if a song is playing in the background or on the radio, he’ll stand up and dance. in the kitchen, he’ll take a wooden spoon and sing into it. then take your hand and twirl you around. he loves to slow dance with you under the stars and he loves to rock out with you, with air guitars and all.
t - together (what you do together)
as said before, you watch a lot of films and programmes together. you also write a lot together, carpooling ideas into scripts or stories. his imagination is phenomenal. sometimes, you’d go on road trips, and he’d have control of the aux. he’d play songs to you, to see if you knew them, and he’d serenade you with ABBA non stop. anything you did was made 10x better when you did it together.
u - under the influence (drunk vibes)
drunk george is the softest man alive. he just wants to cuddle and tell you how madly in love he is with you. he’d press kisses all over your face and then pull you in close, to squeeze you tightly. when you’re drunk he loves to watch you get up to your antics, only intervening when it got dangerous or illegal. drunk together was a whole other force to be reckoned with. you’d both be doing stupid stuff until someone else had to step in. drunk you and sober you were both madly in love with george, just sober you was more willing to show absolutely everyone.
v - vacations
george definitely takes you to an island somewhere, like malta. or maybe he’d take you to a greek island. you’d spend the entire time exploring the city or the local markets, soaking up the local atmosphere and the sun. he’d defo get all artsy, taking photos of you from behind as you walked, the sun shining down on you angelically.
w - wedding
the cutest wedding ever. no cap. outside, in summer. you’d chosen a outside area, like a greenhouse kinda room, surrounded by the most beautiful flowers. the reception was afternoon tea in a little marquee. the next day, you had a family meal, where your two families came together to celebrate the two of you.
x - xray (when he’s hurt)
let’s say he injured himself on the set of 1917. a piece of rubble in the bunker scene fell and trapped on his arm, cutting it wide open. whilst it didn’t put him completely out of working, it did require him to go to hospital for stitches. it happened that you were on set on these days so accompanied the whole way. you held his hand as the nurse gave him stitches, and though he didn’t look scared of the needle, you could tell he was slightly panicking at the size. you walked with him back to the trailer where dean sat waiting, laughing slightly has a pale george sauntered up to him, you pulled into his side.
y - you (a random headcanon)
imagine that you both innocently take a shower together. “saving water” or something like that. george would spend his time massaging shampoo in your scalp and then brushing his fingers through it as the water washed it out. he’d turn around and you lather him in soap, your hands rubbing his shoulders, tense from a week of working. it wasn’t much but it was the little things that allowed the two of you to wind down at the end of a busy week.
z - zzzzzzzzzzzz’s (sleeping routine)
whilst you wouldn’t admit to being tired, george would watch you as you sat next to him, your eyelids falling heavy and your blinks getting longer and longer. he’d stand up himself, then hold out his hand for you to take. you’d follow him up the stairs and whilst he was brushing his teeth, you’d change into your pyjamas and then you’d swap. as you wander back into the room, george would hold out his arms for you to climb into, your head burying into the crook of his neck. nights like this, it was easier to fall asleep quickly.
#1917#george mackay#george mackay imagine#george mackay x reader#will schofield#will schofield x reader#will schofield imagine#dean charles chapman#dean charles chapman smut#dean charles chapman imagine#dean charles chapman x reader#tom blake#tom blake x reader#tom blake imagine#Sam Mendes#the history of the ned kelly gang
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𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩
✎ = still writing
⚘ BEN HARDY
▪ Ben dating a latina (headcanon)
▪ Making out with Ben (headcanon)
▪ ‘Early Christmas Gift’ (one shot)
▪ ‘Marathon’ (one shot) (+18)
▪ ‘Challenge accepted’ (one shot) (+18)
▪ ‘Happy New Year’ (one shot) (+18)
▪ ‘Make love to me’ (one shot) (+18)
⚘ DEAN-CHARLES CHAPMAN
▪ ‘Muse’ ─ Matt (Blinded by the Light) x OC (✎)
⇢ Chapter 1
⇢ Chapter 2
⇢ Chapter 3
⇢ Chapter 4
⇢ Chapter 5
⇢ Chapter 6
⇢ Chapter 7
⇢ Chapter 8
#dean charles chapman#ben hardy#dean charles chapman imagine#dean charles chapman smut#ben hardy imagine#ben hardy smut#ben hardy x reader#ben hardy headcanon#1917#matt blinded by the light#dean charles chapman blinded by the light
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Cockney Kisses
Warnings: Smut, smoking.
Word count: 4,298
Summary: You and Dean had broken up a couple of months ago, but at a random dinner party you see him for the first time since you split, and you're far from over him and it seems like he's not really over you either.
A/N: Smut is between the asterisks (*) so you can skip it or skip right to it, as you prefer. Please let me know if you spot any typos, missing words, wrong verb forms, and so on, so I can fix it.
AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25793386
Arriving at the dinner party you didn't quite know what to expect. Your head was somewhere else, for the past month you had been feeling quite empty and disconnected, unsure if it had anything to do with the breakup you had gone through 3 months prior. You really liked Dean, and now looking back you had no idea what had happened that might have led you two apart. Were you too different? , you wondered, was it him that didn't like you anymore? Was it you that stopped liking him?. No, that wasn't it, you still thought about him all the time, you still had so much love for him...
Amidst your musings you were met with the man of your dreams, in all the senses of the phrase. There he was, right there in front of you, in the flesh. In a black suit that fitted him perfectly, his hair done all nice and smooth, he always looked so handsome in a suit. You hadn't seen him since you broke up.
He looked at you and smiled, that gorgeous, sweet smile of his that you had no idea you missed so much. You felt your heart tighten with longing for Dean, you were far from over him. He approached you, placed a hand on the exposed skin of your arm and kissed your cheek, you couldn't help but blush a little at the touch and suddenly you felt so shy, like you were meeting him for the first time. All the intimacy you two had shared, whether it be in the form of shared bodies in the bedroom or in the form of disclosed secrets and innermost thoughts, came flooding through your mind.
And now it was like you were old acquaintances, making small talk at a random event.
"Hi, how have you been?", he asked with a smile, and you thought you saw the faintest slight of pink tingeing his cheeks.
You smiled back shyly and replied "Good, how about you?"
You both stood there a little awkwardly, trying to make small talk for a couple more minutes before you went back to your respective friend groups to spend the rest of the evening.
After dinner, as always, you sneaked up to the top of the building, sometimes all you had was a remote corner of a bar or room or a quiet garden somewhere, or wherever place you could find that was the most secluded at an event. You weren't really one for parties, always hated crowds, would much rather have small, intimate gatherings with people you actually knew and liked.
You sat on the cold cement floor of the rooftop overlooking the night sky and the city lights, such a beautiful and peaceful scenery. You instantly felt more relaxed. You fixed the smooth fabric of your long black dress over your legs, covering them completely, and hugged your knees.
It was chilly, not too much, but enough to make your arms cold. After a while you hear the door to the rooftop open and close, you didn't look back to peep at the person, the roof was big enough for someone to go over to the other side and not even notice you.
But soon after, you hear feet approaching and someone sits down beside you. You finally glance sideways and see Dean on your right, a cigarette in his mouth and his signature cheeky smile.
"Thought you might be here...", he said, the words partially muffled due to the cigarette in his mouth. He took a lighter out of the pocket of his suit jacket and lit it up, covering it until the tip ignited like a little ember and joined the tiny city lights.
You turned away, looking at your feet, lightly scraping the cement with the tip of your shoe.
"You always did have a weird sixth sense for finding me...", you say, still looking down.
"Thought you had quit.", you added, pointing at the cigarette.
He gives you a sad smile and shrugs, saying "Some things never change, I guess...".
You looked back down again, a comfortable silence taking over for a few minutes.
He brushed the back of his fingers against your arm, checking to see if you were cold, the warmth of his hand contrasting with your chilly skin, the gesture so nonchalant, like it was a regular thing to do to ex-girlfriends.
Silently, he removed his jacket and placed it over your shoulders, trying to cover as much of your arms as he could. You thanked him, not even attempting to decline his kind gesture and the comfort it brought you. He used to do this all the time when you were together, he knew you weren't cold per se but your arms always got chilly. Besides, it had an emotional warmth to it, the heat of his body and his scent still lingering on the jacket always made you feel much more at ease after a long night of dealing with too many people. You smiled at the memories, you missed having someone in your life that cared that much about you.
You looked at Dean, eyeing him up and down, he looked gorgeous in that suit...
"Looking very dapper...", you said with a smile, "Gonna have to set up a queue for all the ladies tonight...", you added.
He chuckled, taking a drag of the cigarette and slowly exhaling the smoke through his mouth.
"Thanks.", he said with a coy smile, the word coming out charged with his characteristic cockney accent. "Highly doubt it, though... Haven't had much luck in that department lately...", he added, eyes glued to the city ahead.
You turn your head forward, looking at the skyline, unable to hold the slight smile tugging at your lips, you couldn't help but feel a little glad at the fact that he probably hadn't been with anyone else since you broke up, too. It was kind of selfish of you, but the pang of guilt quickly faded.
"Well, that makes two of us.", you confess with a sigh.
"The ladies giving you a hard time too?", he asks mockingly.
You chuckle at the corny joke that you were already half expecting.
"Haven't had much luck in any department really...", you mumbled. "But I especially miss sex...", you confess with an ironic chuckle, unsure if it was the champagne taking advantage of your low alcohol tolerance, or the actual fact that you hadn't shaboinked since you and Dean broke up.
And now he was right there, looking utterly heavenly in that suit, smoking like he didn't have a care in the world and you knew what his lips would taste like if you kissed, slightly like alcohol mixed with the faintest taste of smoke; And his neck would smell like his cologne, that he always applied on all the recommended pulse points, and if you buried your face in his dress shirt you would smell the smoke there too, and the light scent of the detergent from his regular dry-cleaner's, and God... You just really wanted him right now.
You must have been staring at him like a hungry wolf, but he didn't seem to mind. A knowing smirk gracing his lips when he met your gaze, electricity pulsing in the air between you. You were almost sure he knew what was going through your head, he had a knack for guessing what you were thinking sometimes.
He looked down, expelling another cloud of smoke, that smirk still lingering on his face. "Yeah, I miss that too... Haven't been with anyone since we broke up.", he said, looking at the sky ahead.
Silence falls between you once again. Both of you unsure what to say next.
"So... You still living Isaac?", you ask after a while, trying to sound casual like there wasn't an ulterior motive hiding behind the question.
"No, he moved out a month ago.", he replied, exhaling smoke towards the city sky. "Why? Wanna pay me a visit one of these days?", he asked cheekily, sending you a side glance, that stupid, delicious smirk still marking his features.
You look over at him, smiling and blushing slightly before you say "I was thinking more like tonight...".
[...]
Now you were in his bedroom, both of you busy with taking your respective shoes and socks off, Dean on one side of the bed and you on the other, like you were just a regular couple coming home after a night out, were it not for the slight nervousness hanging in the air.
"I'm gonna cum embarrassingly fast.", you say blatantly, opening the zipper on your high heels.
"Well, that makes two of us.", he replied with a smile, "But we've got all night.", he added in a low tone.
You climbed on the bed, resting on your knees, facing him, Dean did the same on the other side, one of his hands reached for his tie as his fingers expertly worked the knot, slowly removing it, his eyes deliberately fixed on yours while he did it. His suit pants and dress shirt were still on as he approached you till you were only a few inches apart.
(*)
He grabbed your hips and pulled you in even closer, heat seeping in from his hands through the thin fabric of your dress and spreading through your whole body. He placed his forehead against yours, you could feel his breath on your lips, your hands slid all the way from his lower abdomen to rest on his chest, his breath quickening at the contact.
He moved to kiss your cheek and made his way to your ear, playfully nibbling on it, making your breath hitch, a smirk formed on his face from seeing he still had an effect on you.
He kissed the place bellow your ear and whispered "I missed you so much...", putting his head in the crook of your neck and inhaling your scent while wrapping his arms around you with a sigh, like someone who finally arrived home after a long day.
You felt how his body instinctively relaxed as you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, revelling in the feeling of just being able to hold him like this again, the embrace unusually sweet and innocent in comparison to the reason that brought you to his room in the first place.
"I missed you terribly, you have no idea...", you replied, hugging him tighter.
Minutes passed until Dean broke the embrace to finally place his lips on yours, his kiss soft and slow but sensual, his hands grabbing your face eagerly, your fingers wrapping around his wrists with just as much fervour. Lips parting only when you both ran out of breath, smiling and staring at each other like two kids who had just discovered kissing, before you dipped in for another kiss, this one slightly more hungry.
Your first kiss in months and you would be content with just doing this, just kissing him for hours, nothing else, and you would die a happy woman.
He sucked on your bottom lip, giving it a playful nibble before he slipped his tongue into your mouth clashing it with yours, massaging it with his own. His hands slid all the way from your face to your hips, and then moved to squeeze your ass, pushing your bodies even closer, until your hips met. Your lips parted, both of you breathless, your hands, that had moved to Dean's neck when he released your face, made their way to the buttons on his dress shirt, slowly opening them one by one and then as slowly untucking the shirt from his pants, the feeling of it being dragged away against his boxer briefs was enough to make him suck a breath, and a mischievous grin spread across your face as you kissed him once more.
Your hands slid under his shirt and glided from his lower abdomen, up to his chest and then to his shoulders where you slipped the shirt down his arms and threw it to the floor, your lips still connected, your tongues rolling over each other.
You undid his belt, then slowly dragged the zipper down, making sure your fingers brushed lightly against his crotch, the touch making him even harder. You pulled the pants down as further as they would go and Dean broke the kiss, clumsily sitting on the bed to eagerly pull his pants all the way down as fast as he could and threw them to the floor.
He got back on his knees, smiling at your amused expression before he grabbed your hips again with need and pulled them flush against his, your hands grabbing his biceps for steadiness. He brushed his lips against yours, teasing you simultaneously by not giving you his mouth and by pressing his hardness against you, making you squeeze his biceps harder.
Desperate with need, you moved your hands to the back of his head, pulling it down so you could crash your lips against his, your fingers dived in his smooth hair and lightly tugged on it, the action eliciting a small groan from Dean.
He moved his hands to the hem of your dress, trying to get it off, you lifted your knees to help him slide it from under your legs and up and over your raised arms, leaving you both now only in your underwear.
His hands quickly returned to your body, now skin on skin, his touch burned as he slowly slid them all the way from your shoulders down to your lower back, digging his fingers into the skin there, while his tongue continued to move against yours.
He splayed his hands dragging them back up your back, stopping in the middle to unclasp your bra and then gently pulling each strap down your shoulders before removing it completely. His gaze closely following his movements.
His eyes met yours again before he kissed your lips, his hands made their way down from your collarbones to your hips, thumbs absentmindedly brushing your nipples on the way down before coming to rest below your ribcage, his fingers grasping the skin hungrily, before sliding back up to your chest to massage your breasts and caress your nipples with the tip of his thumbs, making them obediently perk up at the touch.
He moved his kisses to your jaw line, and then to your neck, where he licked and sucked the delicate skin there, making you gasp. He continued his path down, leaving a trail of fresh love bites all the way to your breasts while your nails ran through his back softly, leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake.
You grabbed the back of his neck, thumbs hooking under his jaw, eagerly pulling him back up to your lips, your tongue invading his mouth and swirling around his while one of your hands slid between his legs, slowly stroking him over his black boxer briefs.
His breath quickened, his mouth becoming ajar, you took this opportunity to leave open mouthed kisses all over his jaw and down his neck, nibbling on his collarbone, making your way down, while one of his hands moved from your nape to your hair, tugging at the roots lightly.
You moved your hands down his sides and slipped them under his boxer briefs, giving his ass a playful squeeze. He looked down at you smiling, still panting, you looked up at him returning the smile and teasingly bit his belly making him wince, you removed his underwear and pushed him on the bed, quickly straddling him and slowly rolling your hips against his, his hands squeezing your thighs hard.
He bucked his hips up making you slightly lose your balance, and used it as an opportunity to move his hands to your hip bones and roll you over, pinning you underneath him, his hands let go of your wrists and his fingers moved to lace with yours while his head dipped in to give you a slow, passionate kiss.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing his hips down against yours so you could rub yourself against his hard length.
Dean breaks the kiss and takes off your only remaining piece of underwear. He quickly puts two fingers into his mouth before he brings them to your clit, rubbing it, making you arch your back and grind against his hand. His lips connect with yours again as he slides his fingers down to your soaked entrance and inserts one, slowly moving it inside and out a few of times before adding another, his palm still rubbing your clit.
"Please, just get inside me...", you plead, looking up at him. He flashes a smile and gives you a quick peck on the lips before grabbing a condom from the bedside table and putting it on.
He positions himself between your legs and uses one of his hands to guide his length as he, very slowly, sinks in to you.
"Fuck...", he mutters under his breath as your tight warmth envelops him, one of his hands going up to grip the sheets next to your head while the other remained on your hip.
You grab onto him, fingers digging into his hips. He slowly pulls back and eases in again, his forehead coming to rest against yours as you exchange breathless kisses.
He repeats the movement, his hips setting up a slow pace as his hands fly to your neck, thumbs delicately caressing your throat, your pulse beating rapidly underneath them as his mouth consumed yours.
You moan into his mouth, your hands running through his back as your legs wrap tighter around his waist, pulling him closer and deeper.
He moves his weight to one of his elbows, his other hand gripping your thigh as his hips continue to draw slow thrusts into you, your breaths heavy as you lock eyes, the intimacy between the two of you had never left, neither did your love and admiration for each other, all of those feelings and more now coming up to the surface and flooding through you.
He dips in for another deep kiss, one of your hands moving from the back of his neck and into his hair, the other gripping onto his shoulder blade.
He picks up the pace, his hips thrusting into you faster, a thin sheen of sweat covered your entwined bodies, Dean's cheeks starting to flush red from the effort and the pleasure.
His fingers digging hard into the skin of your hips, the friction caused by the closeness of your bodies stimulating you in time with his thrusts, pushing you dangerously close to the edge.
"Fuck, I'm so close...", you mutter breathlessly, true to your words earlier on.
You feel him smirk against the crook of your neck, he places an open mouthed kiss there, then licks a stripe up to your ear, nibbling on the lobe, making you shiver with pleasure, his hips continuing to slam into yours.
He pulls up, now supporting his weight on his knees, your bodies still linked as he slows down his thrusts, his hands gripping the junction of where your hips meet your legs. You gasp at the loss of friction and reach for his now distant body, slowly raking your nails through his stomach and then placing your hands atop his.
A provocative smile plays on his lips as he lazily rolls his hips into yours, not giving you what you want, that cocky little teasing bastard... But two can play that game.
You detach yourself from Dean, catching him by surprise, and quickly straddle his lap, making him sit back down on his knees. You kiss him hard, hands gripping the sides of his neck, and then slide one of them down, grabbing his cock and aligning it with your entrance as you slowly sink down onto him, both of you releasing soft moans as the new position got him buried deeper inside you than before.
You ride him slow, your hips moving in lazy circles, his hands move to cup your ass, squeezing it and urging you to move faster, you smirk, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him once more before you give in to his wishes and pick up the pace.
Both of you now struggling to hold on just a little longer, torn between the need to go slow and enjoy every little detail and the hunger to consume each other, to appease the fire burning inside.
One of your hands reaches for the back of his head, lightly tugging on the soft hair there while the other remains on his neck. He moves his hands up your back, wrapping his arms around you, tightening the embrace, pushing your slick, hot bodies even closer together, your hips now slamming against his.
He tilts his head up to press sloppy kisses on your lips, his cheeks stained red, his forehead covered with a thin layer of sweat, both of you a panting mess. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer to you, it felt like there wasn't enough of him, you wanted even more of him as you slammed your hips down against his even faster.
The feeling of his scorching skin rubbing against yours, hitting all the right spots, the feeling of him inside you, of his strong arms pulling you close against his body were making you fall apart.
Drowning in pleasure, you clench around him, a small moan escaping your lips as Dean thrusts up into you a couple more times, burying his face on your chest and groaning softly as he comes undone.
You both stand there, unmoving, panting for a solid minute before Dean slides his legs from underneath him and lies down with you still on top, your head resting on his chest. He removes himself from you, gets rid of the condom and absentmindedly starts running his fingers through the valley of skin where your spine stretches through.
Silence hanged in the air, both of you now painfully aware that this was about more than just sex, some raw needs had been fulfilled, but there was still something missing, it was clear you both still loved each other.
Feeling completely blissed out and exhausted you both drifted to sleep.
(*)
[...]
Hours later, after having woken up and made sure you made up for all the lost time in the bedroom, you're now lying naked on the bed face down. With your head resting on your folded arms you turn it sideways in Dean's direction, "Aren't you gonna have a smoke?", you ask playfully.
He is sitting down, slouching a bit, his head and shoulders pressed against the headboard, his hands resting on the sheet that covered him up to his belly button. His hair a mess, sticking in all directions, but still looking extra smooth despite the work of your lustful fingers.
"I quit.", he finally replied with a sad smile, glancing over at your slightly confused expression before looking away.
The memory of your rooftop encounter earlier, where he had a cigarette between his lips, flashes through your mind.
"I asked a mate for a cigarette so I had an excuse to go to the rooftop without you suspecting it might be just to see you...", he added with a sad smile, slightly embarrassed at the confession.
[...]
More hours passed, but you were both still lying completely naked in bed, bellies down, having a heart to heart like the good ol' days. Your eyelids were heavy, but still you refused to stop looking at each other, like you might not get the chance again. Dean's hand laid on the pillow, under your chin, his thumb lazily stroking it from time to time, while your hand rested on his forearm, your thumb mimicking his actions.
"I finally finished that script I told you about before, not sure if you remember...", he said hesitantly, his voice deep with sleep, the last part came out so quietly you almost didn't catch it.
"Of course I do!", you said with a reassuring smile, making a smile pop right back in his face too.
"You would never let me read it, though...", you added with fake resentment. "Can I read it now that it's finished?", you asked, eyes begging.
"You don't have too, this isn't why you're here for...", he said, a sad tone underlying his words.
"Just let me see!", you replied, stretching out your hand in a 'give it here' motion.
He obeys, reaching for the drawer in his bedside table and taking out a thin pile of scribbled up paper sheets secured on top by a paper clip.
"This is still a rough first draft... It's just... I just... Wanted to see what you think...", he said, holding it away from your open hand.
"It's okay, I've been dying to read it. I'm sure it's good, and what matters the most is that you did it and hopefully enjoyed doing it. It's your first time too, so you can't be too harsh on yourself and expect an Oscar winning screenplay first try, love.", you said sitting up, the affectionate nickname slipping out of your mouth out of habit from when you were together.
He gave you one of those side smiles, the pet name not going by unnoticed, and placed the script in your hand.
He had always been so insecure about his work and everything he did, yet he was so good and always worked so hard, it broke your heart knowing he couldn't see that himself.
You look at the title: "Cockney Kisses: an Essex Western" and chuckle.
"Looks very promising already.", you say smiling, flipping to the first page.
#dean-charles chapman#dean charles chapman#dean-charles chapman fanfic#dean charles chapman fanfic#dean charles chapman x reader#dean-charles chapman x reader#dean charles chapman smut#dean-charles chapman smut#dean charles chapman one shot#dean-charles chapman one shot#dean-charles chapman imagine#dean charles chapman imagine#dean-charles chapman fanfiction#dean charles chapman fanfiction
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More Than Friends (Dean-Charles Chapman Smut)
Requested: Yes / No
Word count: 3,260
Author’s Note: I wrote another smut, yay! I think it’s not the best, but I kinda like writing smut but I literally have no ideas for it :( Also, fuck Brad, he’s a dick, but I needed a rude guy
Dean’s my best friend, you thought. Well, at least he was. You kicked yourself internally for dwelling on this yet again. It had been months since you had seen him last. What a dick, you found yourself thinking once again. You sit up from your warm blanket encampment, glancing at the clock on your nightstand. 2:36 AM.
“Dammit,” you mutter, grabbing your phone. You quickly unlock the device and, against your better judgment, call Dean. What’s the harm? you thought, It’s not like he would pick up. As you hear the ringing tone play, you find yourself thinking back to what had thrown the two of you apart.
Dean arrived at your front door, three minutes early. As you swung the door open to invite him in, his smile brought butterflies to your stomach. “Come in, Dean. I don’t know why you even bother knocking anymore, you’re practically family.” Dean enters, his eyes quickly scanning the surroundings before sending a wave to your younger sister, seated on the front room couch.
You lead Dean to the kitchen, reaching up to grab his favorite cup. The cup was red and had black and white strips. You thought it was the ugliest cup ever, but Dean insisted you keep it here for whenever he comes over. Your lips turn up into a smile as you grab the cup, filling it with water before handing it to him.
“How have you been?” He asks, curious to know of your activities within the 24 hours he hasn’t seen you. You laugh, a smile breaking out on Dean’s face as well. “I took a walk with my sister, then I finished an application. It’s for a great film school up in Manchester that-”
“Manchester?” Dean asks incredulously, nearly spitting the water in his mouth out, eyebrows raised. “You can’t go there, Y/N.” Your brows furrow, confusion settling in on your features. “Why not?” You ask.
“It’s too far away. I-I’m going to miss you too much,” he stutters out, face falling. He was sure that you didn’t know of his more-than-friends feelings towards you, but he was going to miss you, whether or not you two were dating or just friends. Your confusion quickly turns to understanding, crossing the small kitchen in only a few steps to reach out to your friend. Your hand raises to his shoulder, holding it gently. “Hey, Dean. Look at me,” you say. His eyes are still downcast, so you tuck a finger under his chin, bringing his face up.
“It’ll be okay, I promise. I might not even get the internship, and then I won’t go at all. And even if I do go, I promise we’ll visit as often as possible and I’ll call or text you every night, okay?” His eyes light up slightly at your words, but his face still expresses his reluctance. You sigh, breathing out deeply before grabbing his arm and leading him into the living room.
You sit him down in a chair before seating yourself on the couch opposite him. “It’ll be okay, I promise, Dean.” He nods softly, not wanting to disappoint you, but still very upset.
The two of you spend the rest of the day watching TV together, laughing at each other and the show that’s on. When the evening rolls around, Dean reluctantly stands, telling you that he should get home. You smile sadly, but let him go.
The next morning, Dean texts you ‘Come over later.’ You huff, the notification from his text having woken you up only moments earlier. You quickly grin, though, excited to see your friend. Well, your friend for now, at least. You wanted more. Dean would make a good boyfriend, you thought, He’s a good guy and not to mention pretty cute. Your face flushes at your thoughts, but you eagerly pull yourself out of bed to get ready.
Soon enough, you are walking the two street distance between your house and Dean’s. As you approach the driveway, you see Dean chatting with one of his neighbors, Brad, a boy your age. Dean’s face looks downcast, and Brad’s features are turned down in a scowl. Dean’s eyes flit from Brad to your direction as soon as he hears your feet against the pavement. He sends a slight smile your way before turning back to say bye to Brad.
You finally approach the two boys, greeting them. “You’re a bitch, I hope you know,” Brad snarls, glaring at you. You take a step back, unsure of what’s going on. Dean’s hands dart out to try and stop Brad if he goes to do anything towards you. Thoughts race frantically through your head, contemplating what on earth you could have done to infuriate Brad. You hadn’t even formally met the guy, but here he was, threatening you.
A nervous laugh escapes you, hoping to calm the tension. “I don’t know what you’re going on about,” you say, praying that Brad doesn’t hear the nervous quiver in your voice. Brad lets out a harsh laugh, taking a step closer to you. Dean’s face is one of shock and apprehension, not comprehending what’s going on. Dean takes a step up to Brad, keeping his hands extended in front of him, towards his neighbor. “What are you on about, mate?” Dean questions, eyes glancing back and forth from Brad to you.
“What you told me about her,” Brad replies, spitting the word her out as if you were some sort of disgusting animal he couldn’t bear to look at. Your eyebrows furrow, eyes darting to Dean. “Don’t worry, darling. Your friend here told me everything you did. Trying to go to Manchester and leave him here, all alone? You think that’s fun, don’t you? Running away on some far-away adventure, leaving your friend here by himself while you run around with some stuck-up film school prick-”
Dean cuts Brad off with an angry glare, quickly silencing him. Brad’s face turns up into a cruel smirk, bidding you goodbye as he turned and walked back to his house. As soon as he’s gone, you step closer to Dean, sadness and confusion clearly playing out on your face. “Is that what you think about me going to Manchester?” You ask him, quietly.
He nods sadly, eyes downcast, steeling himself for a rant from you. Instead of getting upset, though, you laugh ruefully, an unbelieving smile on your face. “This whole time, I’ve been nothing but supportive of your acting career, and here you are, a blubbering mess as soon as I say that I might go to Manchester?”
Dean doesn’t lift his head, but this time it’s out of shame rather than sadness. You were right, of course you were. Through all of his auditions and filming you had been the most supportive of him. And here he was, complaining like a little boy that the girl he liked might leave him for a few weeks. He had made a mess of this, but now he didn’t know how to fix it.
“Well if that’s what you really think, Dean, I’ll be going now,” you state, turning on your heel and beginning the short walk back to your house. You hear him call out after you, but you ignore him. It was his mess, you told yourself, not mine.
And now here you were, four months later. You hadn’t seen or spoken to Dean since that day in his driveway. The ringing tone continues to play from your phone, until you hear it stop suddenly. A rough voice is heard on the other end. Dean’s voice.
God, I haven’t heard that voice in months. I’ve missed it.
“Hey,” he says. You swallow thickly, shifting yourself in your blankets before responding. “Hey.” You hear him sigh on the other end.
“I’m sorry, Y/N. I really am. I-I made a mess of things, I know. It’s just, I kinda liked you. A lot. And then I ruined everything-” he begins rambling, but you stop him. A bright smile playing on your lips, you fight to keep the giddiness out of your voice as you respond. “It’s okay, Dean. It was my fault, too, I think. I should have told you before I applied. But, I think we need to talk. Do you want to come over?” You ask, the words slowly and quietly slipping out.
Dean sighs, no doubt checking the time. “Sure. I’ll be over in 10,” he says, quickly ending the call. You let out a deep breath, one you didn’t know you had been holding. Hopefully, you two would be able to work things out.
He said he likes me. Oh my god, he likes me. Maybe we could be more than friends?
A few minutes pass, and your phone dings with a text from Dean. ‘I’m here,’ he said, so you quickly disentangle yourself from the blankets, shoving them to the side of the bed before hurrying downstairs to open the door for him. You unlock the door and swing it open, revealing Dean in all his glory. Dressed in a simple, white fitted tee and sweatpants, he looks delicious. His mouth tilts up into a soft smile when you open the door. You hastily invite him in, leading him upstairs and into your room.
You quietly shut the door behind him as he stands awkwardly in the center of your room, eyes roaming as he takes in the surroundings. “Sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve been in here,” he says. You smirk, inviting him to sit on your bed. You cough awkwardly, hoping to ease the palpable tension between the two of you.
“I’m really sorry, Y/N. Honestly, I am. I know what-” you cut him off, pushing your lips against his passionately. His eyes widen, blinking in surprise, before he kisses you back with just as much passion. You smile against his lips, and Dean finds himself thinking that this is what it must feel like to be in heaven.
You pull away after a few moments, your lungs burning. Both of you take deep breaths, recovering from the hasty yet enjoyable first kiss between the two of you. Dean smiles widely, laughing at himself. “How did it take us this long to do that?” he questions, shaking his head. Grinning, you shrug in response before wrapping your arms around his neck and once again pressing your lips to his. You feel Dean shift, bringing his arms from his sides to wrap around your waist lightly. This was still new territory for the both of you, and he didn’t want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable.
You sense his hesitancy, after all, you had been best friends for years. You pull away from him to nod. He nods back at you, pulling his arms tighter against you and drawing you into him. This time, Dean initiates the kiss, and its softer than your previous ones. His tongue slips hesitantly into your mouth, rolling against your own. You continue to work your lips against him. This feels right, you think, enjoying the sensation of Dean’s body working against you.
Your hands move from his neck to his waist, lifting up the hem of his shirt, toying with it. Dean pulls away, his eyes never leaving yours. “It’s okay. I want this. Do you?” He asks shyly, a blush spreading across his face. “I do.” Dean smiles, bringing his hands to your waist and slowly drawing your shirt over your head. You quickly do the same to him, relishing in the feeling of his soft skin under your fingers.
Dean’s eyes rake up and down your bare chest, taking in the sight before him. “You’re absolutely beautiful, you know,” he whispers, taking your hand in his. You smile shyly, raising your other hand to his hair, running your fingers through the mussed curls. Gently, he pushes you back until you’re lying on your bed beneath him. Dean brings his head down to your neck, kissing and sucking the sensitive skin. His teeth scrape lightly against your skin, causing you to shiver and let out a breathy moan. You feel him smile against you, causing you to smile as well.
Dean trails soft kisses down your collarbone and the top of your chest, reaching your breasts. He looks up at you expectantly, eager to make the next move, but respectful if you want to stop. You meet his gaze, smiling and nodding down at him. He takes this as your consent, leaning down to kiss the top of your breast. His other hand moves up to cup the other breast, running his finger over the flesh. Occasionally, his thumb and pointer finger dart down to gently pinch your nipple, eliciting a shocked gasp followed by a moan from you.
He continues this for a couple minutes, eventually bringing his mouth to your nipple and cupping it between his lips. His tongue reaches down to swirl around your nipple, lightly biting with his teeth.
Dean continues down your body, pressing wet and open-mouthed kisses down the rest of your torso before reaching the waistband of your underwear and pajama pants. Both of you are still clad in panties/boxers and your pajama pants, but you make quick work of them. You raise your hips, sliding your panties and pajama pants down your legs quickly before reaching out to Dean. He allows you to do the same to him, pulling his underwear and sweatpants off.
With the two of you finally naked, Dean presses you down against the bed again. Your hands go to his hair, toying with the curls as his head finds a spot between your legs. He presses his lips against your inner thighs, sucking and drawing his teeth against them as well. He turns his head slightly, and you begin to feel his warm breath straight on your already dripping core.
Dean chuckles, eyes scanning up your body to meet your gaze. Your breathing is heavy and erratic, evidently excited about the sight in front of you. Dean’s previous actions, as well as the long anticipation you had been harboring for this moment for years, had your folds dripping with wetness.
Slowly, Dean brings his head right up to your center, pressing a kiss to your mound. Your breathing deepens, a low moan already leaving you. Dean shifts a little bit lower, placing an open-mouthed kiss across the entirely of your folds. You feel his tongue dart out, beginning to lap at your pooling wetness.
“Oh my god, Dean. Fuck,” you whimper, voice climbing into a higher range. Dean’s tongue licks through your folds, stroking the area up and down, then swirling his tongue against the center. He closes his lips around your clit, sucking harshly before relenting on the pressure and toying with the small nub.
His lips continue their gentle toying of your clit as his tongue works masterfully against your center, lapping up any wetness. He moves his tongue down, inserting it into your hole. A long and loud moan leaves you, and he smiles. His tongue works its wonders inside you, tenderly eating you out as your hands tighten in his hair.
“Fuck, Dean. Please don’t stop,” you whisper, moans leaving your mouth at an increasing pace. He smirks against you again before replying. “Of course, love.” The vibration of his voice sends a jolt up your spine, causing your thighs to begin to shake, pressing against his head. You quickly feel your orgasm approaching, telling Dean of this through incoherent phrases.
He grins, pulling his face away from your center before inserting a finger into your hole. Your eyes widen in delighted surprise, watching as Dean leans down to take your clit into his mouth again.
“Fuck!” you cry out, letting your body release. Dean smiles against your clit, murmuring, “There it is, love.” Dean helps you ride out the continuous waves of pleasure, continuing to work his fingers inside you and his mouth against you.
He pulls away, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. Shuffling up, he kisses you harshly for a few moments before pulling back. “You taste so fucking good, love.” You blush, pushing yourself to sit up. Dean sits himself opposite you, both of you taking deep breaths.
You move your hand out towards him, reaching down to grab his cock. Dean quickly stops you, though, grabbing your hand. You glance up at him, wondering. He chuckles and shakes his head.
“Don’t worry about me. We can do that another time, okay? I just want to fuck you now,” Dean says, his eyes darkening from their usual icy blue to a darker, lust-blown shade. You nod, smiling. “Okay. Another time.”
Another time. There’s going to be another time!
Dean pushes you back on the bed again, situating his body between your legs. He looks down at you, his eyes searching your face for a hint of regret. Seeing none, he slides his length into you. Pausing for a few moments to let you adjust, he leans down to pepper your face in gentle kisses, hoping to distract you from the uncomfortable feeling. Once you’re adjusted, you nod and Dean begins to move, rocking his hips back and forth.
You watch him as he glances down between the two of you, watching as his length slides into then out of you. The visual causes Dean to get excited again, and he brings his head down to kiss your neck, biting every so often. Dean’s thrusts continue, slowly picking up the pace. Your moans are loud and frequent, mixing with Dean’s. Curses leave Dean’s mouth almost as often as he breaths, a constant stream of fucks and shits.
“Go a little faster, Dean,” you mumble, hands tightening in his hair as his kisses become more forceful against your neck and the top of your chest. He nods, leaning up to kiss your lips. Your tongue makes its way into his mouth, rolling against his as Dean’s hips rock against you. The stream of pleasure from Dean is constant, and he increases his speed while pushing his weight onto one arm, bringing his other arm down your clit, rubbing his thumb in circles against it.
“Shit, Dean. I’m gonna come soon,” you tell him, your voice cracking at the immense feeling of pleasure and excitement coursing through your body. Dean grunts in response, his fingers rubbing quicker against your clit. “Fuck, Y/N, I’m not going to last much longer,” he mutters, moaning.
You feel his cock begin to twitch inside you and he pulls out before quickly releasing his load onto your chest and stomach. You grin, although you are still worked up. Dean notices and brings his hands back to your center, using his thumb against your clit and rapidly thrusting his other fingers into your hole.
Within seconds, you are coming, releasing as another orgasm washes over you. “Oh my god. Holy shit,” you moan, breathing deeply as Dean falls to the bed beside you.
The two of you lay there for a few minutes in silence, taking in the presence of one another and relishing in the mind-blowing sex you just had.
“Are we still friends?” Dean asks, glancing from his cum on your body to your eyes. You laugh, eyes falling shut as you formulate a response. “I think we have to be more than friends after that.”
Dean grins next to you, pressing his lips against your temple. “Sounds good. We’re finally more than friends.”
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EPHEMERAL - t.b (ii.)
Gold covered every inch of Joffrey's chambers and Freyja couldn't expect anything less from a prince. Light streaked in through the large windows, shadows cascading over the furniture. Freyja's heart still thundered against her chest, scared of what the prince would do. "Come, I want to show you something." Joffrey told the girl as they entered the room.
An ornate crossbow lay on the small table in the center of his chambers. Joffrey swiftly picked it up and held it out towards Frejya, "Your grace..." Her words trailed off, she was truly lost for words. She'd never seen something quite as beautiful. "You like it?" The pair got closer to each other, Freyja's hands running across the bow.
Her lips broadened into a smile as she admired the weapon. Little did she know that Joffrey's eyes scanned over the girl, provocative thoughts racing through his mind along with his plan to bed her. "Freyja, can you show me how to hold it again?" He spun to face the boar head mounted on his wall, getting into a shooting position.
"Of course, your grace." Palms sweaty, she positioned him how she had done earlier that day. Her head was turning, anxious thoughts pounded through it. 'What are Joffrey's intentions?' She wondered. "You can call me Joffrey, Freyja. No need for formalities when we're alone." His voice deepened.
Freyja's hands still rested on his shoulders as Joffrey turned his head. His eyes looked almost like crystals in the low light, but dark intentions lurked behind them. His arms dropped, the crossbow clanking to the floor. "Joffrey..." She tried to warn him but the prince ignored her, his lips met hers anyway, his hands moving to grab her waist.
Freyja's hands tensed, grabbing Joffrey's shirt. She pushed him away, his hands still held her body close to his. "Joffrey, this is wrong." He kissed her again, his tongue forcing itself into her mouth. "I want you, Freyja," He pushed the girl towards his bed, his hands coming to undo the strings of her dress.
But before things could progress any further a knock sounded from the door, saving Freyja. Joffrey huffed and Freyja tried to tie her dress up. "How dare you dist-," His words were cut short once he saw who was behind the door, "Mother, Littlefinger." The prince spat. "Your grace," Freyja's father bowed, he stared at the distressed state of his daughter.
"That'll be enough now, Joff," The Queen Mother stated before gesturing for Freyja to leave the room. She did not hesitate, rushing past Cersei and into her father's arms. Her breath was uneven and heavy. "I'll be taking her home," Petyr told Cersei and her son. "You have some explaining to do." He hissed in his daughter's ear, a sob coming from her mouth.
As she was ushered down the stairs, her eyes caught sight of a flash of golden hair. Tommen. His eyes held sorrow for the girl, he saw what had happened. But Freyja couldn't linger on the sight, Littlefinger corralling her back to their home.
"What in the name of the gods were you thinking? Trying to get into the bed of the prince?" Petyr Baelish roared at his daughter once they had made it home. "I wasn't trying anything. I didn't want to, father. Please forgive me." The girl's voice was quiet and timid. "Liar," Littlefinger muttered before making his way over to his daughter. He clutched her small face in his rough hands, "The next time you embarrass me in front of royalty will be the last time you do anything in this city."
His voice was calm, but his next actions were anything but. His hand came crashing down against Freyja's face, his rings cutting her lip in the process. She fell to the floor, hands clutching her face, tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry." She kept repeating although she knew the words meant nothing to her father.
Freyja wanted to run. She wanted to find safety somewhere. Maybe Gendry could provide it, but she would have to spend the night alone, her father watching her like a little bird trapped in a cage.
The next morning Freyja was tasked with cleaning one of her father's brothels as 'punishment' for the actions of the previous night. She found her head filled with thoughts of Tommen. She had taken a liking to the young prince after just the short amount of time they had spent together. She missed his company, his warm smile, the talks they shared at dinner. She realised she had felt safe with him. 'If only he was here now, maybe he could cheer me up.' Freyja thought to herself as she scrubbed the entryway floor of the brothel.
"Excuse me, miss. I was wondering if you know where I can find Freyja Baelish."
It was as if the gods heard the girl's cry. Freyja turned around to face the prince, her lips stretched into a big smile. "Your grace." She bowed, the rag she was using to clean still firmly held in her hands. "Freyja." The prince's face mirrored the girl's, his warm smile was back.
He was clothed in gold, as usual, his hands clasped in front of him, his hair seemingly glinting from the sun that streamed through the windows. "Your grace, I'm sorry for my appearance. If I had known you were coming, I would've made myself look more presentable." She apologised. Her clothes were what she trained in with Gendry, old breaches and one of Gendry's shirts.
"It's alright. You couldn't have known. And please, call me Tommen." Tommen was always so kind, a stark difference he held from his brother and his mother. Silence filled the room before curiosity landed on Freyja. "Your gra-Tommen, if i may ask, why are you here?" She quizzed the prince as he looked around the entryway of the brothel.
"I was looking for you, I wanted to see if you were okay. I saw you leaving my brother's chambers. You looked so scared," His eyebrows were furrowed, concern laced in his voice. He got closer to the girl, his hands held out in front of him. "Your lip," Tommen's voice almost came out as a whisper as he saw the girl's injury. "Did Joffrey do that?" Anger. His cheeks flushed as his body tensed.
"No, no, don't worry about that, or your brother." He relaxed. "I know how harsh he can be at times," Tommen said and Freyja nodded lightly. "He told me what he was going to do," Confusion rang through the girl and he noticed. "Yesterday, when we were training, after you left, Joffrey told me he planned to 'bed you'," A mix of awkwardness and anger echoed in his words. "I was worried for you, I didn't want him to hurt you."
Freyja's heart was touched with the gentleness of Tommen, she had never met anyone quite like him. "He didn't hurt me, he just...scared me a little bit." She told the boy, placing the rag in the bucket next to her. "Did he..." His voice trailed off, too scared to ask if his brother had tried anything with the girl.
"He tried to." Was all she said, she didn't want to go into specifics, tears already brimming in her eyes again. The girl was strong, but Joffrey's actions combined with her father's scared her more than anything that had previously happened. "Freyja, I'm so sorry, I-"
"It's okay, Tommen. It's not your fault," She smiled at the prince, trying to reassure him. Silence fell upon the teens once again. "This is no place for a prince, you should probably go, your grace," Her words hurt to say but it was true, a brothel was no place for a young prince.
He nodded, understanding her words, but disappointment was clear on his face. "Thank you, Tommen, for your concern. It does mean a lot to me." The prince's warm smile returned and it seemed to light up the room, "I know you're strong, I can tell. But everyone needs friends. I just want you to be happy," He replied.
"Friends."
With the prince? The girl's heart skipped a beat.
Tommen turned to leave but before he could exit, he stopped in his tracks and spun back to face the girl, "There was something else I wanted to ask," He took a couple of steps closer to the girl, "You know how to use weapons, right?" She nodded. "I was wondering if you could maybe train me. Please."
Freyja was shocked by his words, "Tommen, to train a prince is a great honour, I would love to," His smile seemed to grow even more, the space between them becoming smaller, "But I shouldn't," The smile on his face dropped, and so did Freyja's heart. "You have knights and real swordsmen to train you. They could teach you far better than I ever could."
"But I can't focus when Joffrey's there. He always shows off and he's so much better than I am. I just want to be strong, like you." Tommen pouted. Her chest ached, she really wanted to train him. But if she got caught with another prince, there would be hell to pay from her father. 'But he's been so kind, it's the least I could do.'
"Okay, I'll do it." Tommen rushed to the girl, his arms wrapped around her, a light laugh coming from the girl as she returned the hug. "Thank you, Freyja," He gradually pulled away, shame in his eyes, "I'm sorry, I should've asked before I hugged you." The girl giggled, "Don't apologise, you're welcome to hug me anytime you want, Tommen,"
She cringed at her own words, feeling like she had overstepped. "Um, but we'll have to train late at night. If I get caught with another prince, my father will have my head," He nodded, accepting the instructions. "Meet me in the training yard at midnight, bring a sword." The prince grinned at her and she returned the favour, excitement running through them both.
"Thank you." He beamed and Freyja bowed. Tommen left the brothel, a spring in his step and his heart pounding against his chest. He wanted to rush to his brother's chambers just to hit him for what he did to Freyja, but he restrained himself, too happy about his plans for later that evening.
Once he was out of the room, the girl let out a breath she hadn't realised she had been holding in. 'I have to tell Gendry.' She thought. She rushed through the rest of her chores, eager to speak to her friend. Yet again, she had a lot to tell him about the princes.
"I'm going to murder that twat."
"Gendry, calm down. It's alright. Don't commit regicide because of me." The girl was sat on Gendry's workbench as he worked on some armour for her. She had specifically requested something light and flexible so she would be able to teach Tommen easier.
"Are you okay, though?" Gendry's eyes were filled with concern as he looked up at the girl. "I think so, I'm just slightly shaken up. I'll just avoid Joffrey, which shouldn't be too difficult." Gendry breathed a sigh of relief, happy that his friend was okay. "But if he does try anything again, if anyone tries anything-"
"Yes, I'll come straight to you. My big and brave blacksmith." She squeezed his bicep, teasing her friend. He laughed and shrugged her off. "You said you had good news as well?" She explained her plans with Tommen later that evening to Gendry.
"And that's why you need the armour and the sword?" She nodded. "Teaching someone isn't easy as it seems, Freyja. You have to be patient with him, especially if he's as stubborn as you are," She smacked his arm as a laugh left both of them, "I'm being serious."
"I know." She watched the man work, the way his fingers moved across the leather of the breastplate, the sweat dripping down his brow. "Here, try it on," He handed it across to the girl once he had finished it along with two arm-guards.
The chest-plate fit like a glove, protecting every vital area just in case Tommen lost control of his sword and decided to stab Freyja. "Perfect," Gendry smiled at the girl, handing her a sword with bird wings engraved into the guard, "I've been working on this for a while, for you. It's not too heavy so your arms shouldn't ache too much after using it, I know what you're like." He chuckled, remembering how much the girl liked to complain.
"Thank you so much, Gendry. How much do I owe you?" She beamed at the man whilst admiring the sword in her hands. "Don't worry about it, it's a gift. Everything is." He waved his hands in front of him before wiping some sweat off of his dirty neck. "Are you sure?" Gendry nodded and the girl hugged him, squeezing him tightly.
"Remember everything I taught you, and Freyja?" His hands rested on her shoulders as she looked up to him, "Yes?"
"Don't make a fool of yourself in front of the prince." They laughed in tandem, "I won't. And thank you again."
Hours were the only thing seperating Tommen and Freyja. They both counted down the time until they could both see each other again, excitement and nerves running through both of them.
#dean-charles chapman#Tommen Baratheon#imagines#smut#fluff#game of thrones#jack gleeson#joffrey baratheon#fic
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The Weight
Dean-Charles Chapman x Reader
Requested: Yes / No
Summary: A sad Dean comes home from filming and you comfort him
Warnings: fluff, slight angst, 1917 spoilers!
Word count: ~1.5
A/N: My first ever fic! Please send me requests/feedback!
Take a load off, Fanny
Take a load for free
You startle at the sound of your phone ringing, an instinctive smile curling at your lips as you hear the familiar tune of The Weight by The Band playing from your pocket.
“Hey, love! How goes the filming?” you answer Dean’s call brightly, smiling into the receiver as you relax against the couch.
“Pretty good, but I feel like I haven’t seen you in days,” he replies, a pout evident in his voice.
“You saw me this morning, silly,” you giggle.
It did feel as if the two of you hardly spent any time together anymore; the preparation for 1917 had taken longer than either of you had thought, and now that filming had begun, you rarely saw Dean during the day.
“I’ll be home early tonight, the weather’s shit so we can’t film much. It’s lovely outside, no clouds for miles. Absolute shit,” Dean chuckles quietly on the other end and you grin in response, forgetting that he can’t see your smile.
“I’ll try to be awake when you get home, but no promises,” you reply, crossing your legs and propping your feet up on the small coffee table in front of the couch.
“No worries, darling. I probably won’t be able to make it five minutes home without passing out,” he says, and you can hear the exhaustion in his voice.
You both pause, just enjoying each other's presence, speaking becoming unnecessary as you sigh into the phone. You hear muffled voices on Dean’s end, and a hushed reply as he tries to convince Sam to give him a few more minutes with you. You smile and wait for his reluctant goodbye.
“I hate to cut this short, but duty calls...I’ll see you tonight.”
“Bye, love. Good luck finding some clouds,” you say, smiling as you hear both Dean and George’s laugh.
“I love you,” he says softly, as if trying to have one last moment with you away from the crew and cast.
“Love you more, D.”
You hang up, leaning your head back against the couch and feeling around for the TV remote. You might as well try to fill the time until Dean gets home. You flick through the channels and settle on an Our Planet special about exotic birds, letting yourself relax completely into the cushions. Before you know it, you’re fast asleep, the soothing voice of David Attenborough clouding your mind as colorful feathers float across the screen.
…
A quiet shuffling from the front hall causes you to wake up, and you slowly open your eyes to the blue shadows of evening. A warm yellow light filters in from the front door, and you realize that Dean has arrived home. A lazy smile settles over your face as you pull yourself off of the couch and make your way to the hallway to greet him.
“Hey lovie, you’re still up,” he speaks softly as he sees you approaching from the living room, still wrapped in a blanket that you had tangled yourself in during your nap.
“Mmhm,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around his torso and closing your eyes, letting his scent wash over you. He exhales into the embrace, placing his chin in the crook of your neck as he sways slightly with you in his arms.
“Missed you all day,” he murmurs into your hair, placing a kiss to your neck.
“Missed you too,” you breathe, pulling him in tighter as you feel his smile against your skin.
“Sorry if I woke you up. You still tired?” he asks, pulling back slightly to look down at you with warm eyes.
“A bit, though I took a nap so I’m not sure how successful I’ll be falling asleep again,” you reply, resting your head against his chest. You can feel his steady heartbeat from under his sweatshirt, and you focus on the lulling sound.
“Well I’m knackered. Feels like I haven’t slept in years,” he groans, letting his arms loosen around you as he makes his way to the kitchen.
“How was shooting? Any clouds?”
“Yes actually, we had a stroke of luck when the wind picked up, so we got to shoot a few scenes. Filmed one of the hardest ones today,” he says with a slight frown that doesn't go unnoticed by you.
“Yeah?” you reply, waiting to see if he’ll elaborate.
“Yeah, it was exhausting. One of the longest takes we’ve ever done, and really emotionally taxing,” he huffs out a laugh to lighten his words, but you can tell that it’s forced.
“Everything ok, love? You seem stressed,” you purse your lips, looking knowingly into his eyes.
He runs a hand through his hair and looks away, leaning against the countertop. “M’fine, just tired,” he brushes you off, his shoulders tense.
“I know you, Dean. I can tell when you’re upset.”
“I'm not upset, just...a little shaken I guess,” he replies, eyes closing as he rubs his face.
“What happened?” you ask with slight concern, coming around the counter to his side.
“Nothing, don't worry love. Blake can be tough sometimes, that’s all,” he turns to you, still leaning against the table as he tries to put on a smile.
“I can’t imagine what it’s like to have to be a soldier, even in a movie,” you look into his eyes, trying to pick out his emotions.
Dean stays silent for a moment, just looking back at you with sharp, blue eyes.
“It was Blake’s death scene. We filmed it today,” he finally speaks, his voice low as he continues to fiddle with his hair.
You reach a hand up to stop him, smoothing out his brown curls and giving him a sympathetic look. You know how attached he is to the character, you had seen his reaction when he had first read the script for 1917, and you can tell he doesn’t want to let him go.
“It was odd, you know. We’d all rehearsed everything for months, but at the end of the scene, I just couldn’t stop crying.” He tilts his head to meet your gaze again, emotion swimming in his eyes.
You give him a sad smile, reaching for his hands. He wraps them around yours, his grip firm and soft, and you give his fingers a squeeze.
“That’s understandable, darling. It’s a sad story,” you comfort him.
“I think I just need a break. I don’t know why this is affecting me so much.” His voice wavers as he furrows his brows, trying to hide the tears welling in his eyes.
You feel your throat tighten up just from his broken expression, and you fight to stay composed so you can comfort him.
“It’s because you love Blake. And dying like he does...I don’t know how you do it,” you shake your head, watching Dean blink back fresh tears.
Dean nods and swallows thickly, stepping closer to you. You open your arms for him and he accepts the hug gratefully.
You stroke his back as he takes deep breaths against you, pressing a kiss to his temple. You hold him like that for a few moments before gathering yourself and breaking the silence.
“It’s ok to be upset about it, you know. I’m sure I’ll be a right mess when I see it,” you say softly, moving your face to rest your lips by his ear.
“Why don’t we go to bed now, alright?” you whisper.
“Yeah,” Dean sighs, his breathing steadier as he releases you from the tight hug.
You follow him to the bedroom, watching the heavy drag of his feet as you turn off the hallway lights and let the dark haze of night cast vertical shadows on the walls.
You don’t bother putting on pajamas and climb into bed wearing just your t-shirt, slipping under the comforter next to Dean who is already lying down with his eyes closed.
You turn to face him and he opens his eyes, weary and hooded with sleep. He blinks slowly and smiles at you, using his arm to pull you into him so that your head rests against his shoulder and his arm wraps snugly around your waist.
“Thanks,” he whispers, and you tilt your head up to meet his tired gaze.
“For what?”
“For being you.”
“Anytime,” you grin, your reply almost drowned out by a yawn.
He shakes his head, “I mean it. Thank you for always listening and caring. Most people wouldn’t.”
“I’ll always listen. And of course I care, I love you,” you murmur against his chest, shuffling your body closer to his so that you are pressed completely against him.
“I love you too,” he says softly, his thumb rubbing your hip gently beneath the covers.
“Goodnight, D,” you yawn again, throwing an arm over his chest and placing your hand over his heart.
“Goodnight,” he breathes out, his hand coming up to rest over yours as he places a kiss on the top of your head.
It feels as if a weight is pulling at your lids as you attempt to take one last loving look at Dean before drifting off to sleep, feeling warm and safe with his arms around you.
That night, you dream of brightly colored birds.
#dean charles chapman#dean-charles chapman#1917 movie#1917 film#dean chapman#dean-charles chapman fanfic#dean charles chapman fanfic#dean-charles chapman fanfiction#dean charles chapman fanfiction#1917 fanfic#1917 fanfiction#fanfiction#fluff#angst#smut#dean-charles chapman fluff#dean charles chapman x reader#x reader#fanfic#fluff fanfic#angst fanfic#1917#george mackay#tom blake#thomas blake#will schofield#william schofield#schofield#blake#sam mendes
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Just Another Day at the Office - The Sexperiment
George MacKay x Reader Series
Part Five: Make It or Break It
Masterlist
Summary: Y/f/n Y/l/n is doing better than ever; she’s finally in a relationship with the man she’s been constantly thinking about, she has some great friends, and she’s thriving at her dream job. Except, there’s one problem: being in a relationship with one of your coworkers can get really steamy, and can cause a lot of sexual frustration. Her new pitch idea may solve exactly that problem, but will George be okay with it?
a/n: I have absolutely no personal experience in magazine/journalism career, so the information in this fic will be provided with the knowledge I have conducted from research. With that being said, please don’t be mad if this is not accurate!!! **“The Sexperiment” is inspired by an actual Cosmopolitan article (here’s the link!) IM SO SORRY FOR BEING GONE SO LONG I’m here to finish this shit once and for all... I know it’s been a while, but I hold this series so close to my heart and I still have the same love for it as I did when I wrote my last chapter (I know it’s only been a few months but STILL) if you’re reading this, I just want to thank you for sticking around, you’re the best <3
Warnings: This is a slow burn fic, their relationship won’t happen in one night, so if you’re not into that, check out some of the beautifully written imagines that you can most likely find under the george mackay x reader tag. I might eventually write some of my own too :P At least one person’s saying “fuck” and there’s NSFW content..aka smut. You have been warned. Also angst :/ srry this is kinda short
I was in the worst possible situation I could have ever imagined: I had to choose between my dream job and my dream man.
Bree arrived home about twenty minutes later by herself. My bedroom door creaked open, signaling her arrival. She frowned at my appearance, which seemed to be mascara smudged all over my eyes and cheeks and swollen, bloodshot eyes.
She sat down beside me, pulling me into her. “Y/n, I am so, so, sorry.”
I let out a croaked sigh, “I-it’s fine, he was going t-to find out eventually.”
“I’m sure he’ll come around,” she rubbed my back soothingly. “I think he’s in love with you.”
“It doesn't matter if he’s in love or not!” I exclaimed, pulling out of her embrace, my emotions arising again. “He’ll never forgive me for this.”
Hot tears began to stream down my face and I felt my bottom lip tremble. Bree took it as a cue to leave me be, so she quietly exited to her own bedroom.
What the fuck was I going to do?
This job was the job I’d been looking for my entire life; it was the job I’d dreamed about working at.
But, George...
George was everything. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that George would have ever fucked up the way I did. I wouldn’t ever have to question his loyalty, he’d proven to be trustworthy and honest. He treated me like a princess, a way I’d only ever been treated by my father. I wasn’t sure if I’d hurt more without him or without a job. He never failed to make me smile or laugh, and he’d ensure that I always felt safe. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever fall in love again, until I met him.
I could get a job anywhere, but there was only one George MacKay.
I had to delete the article.
I headed to the kitchen and made myself two cups of coffee before cracking my knuckles and getting to work.
Dean,
This is an emergency. If you don’t reply now or tomorrow, I’m going to be in deep, deep shit.
I didn't have time to wait for his response; I got right to work.
What are people into nowadays, I thought to myself. Sex.
Ping. I clicked on my email.
Y/n,
What?
Well, anything’s better than the fucking Sexperiment article.
Dean,
I have to write a new article. George found out. BAD. Can’t release it, I have to fix this.
Also, would you say your penis size relates to your shoe size at all? It’s for the article.
Promise!
Well, I thought, here goes nothing. My fingers began typing immediately. The caffeine made my fingers shake slightly, but I was determined to write anything. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get George back, but I knew I had to. This was a start, at least.
Ping.
Y/n,
Knew that was going to happen. I’ll help you out, but you owe me. Can we do this tomorrow though? It’s Friday night. Uhhh and to ur other question: I don’t think so. Not going to elaborate more than that. Hope that’s good enough.
I rolled my eyes.
Dean,
Fine. I’ll send you my drafts and you better respond as soon as you can.
I prayed to every possible higher power that this would work. I began conducting research, reading articles and articles about the relationship between the size of a man’s penis and the size of a man’s feet. I wrote down statistics, quotes, and scientific evidence–making sure to exclude any personal experience. I spent hours explaining the theory and science behind it and citing every single quote.
I wasn’t sure exactly what was going to happen, but I prayed that Connie wouldn’t be too pissed at me and George would hopefully see how genuinely sorry I was. I knew I’d fucked up, I got too caught up in trying to impress my boss that I practically sabotaged my own relationship in the process. I hadn’t received a single text message or call from him. I missed the way he smelt of sandalwood and vanilla, I missed entangling my fingers in his soft, sandy locks. I missed the way his skin felt against mine and his velvety voice when he called me “love”.
Tears ran down my cheeks once again as these memories lingered in my head. I stared at my computer screen, my eyelids drooping; I needed a break. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep, so I decided that I was going to be entirely committed on staying up all night. Making a sandwich for myself, I sat and watched television for a moment, attempting to distract me from my obvious thoughts. And once I felt slightly more energized, I resumed reading articles, highlighting quotes, and writing. I continued this until Bree woke up, yawning as she swung her bedroom door open.
“Jesus, Y/n,” she observed, my figure at the kitchen table still hunched over, staring at my screen. “Were you up all night?”
“Yeah,” my voice was raspy from exhaustion. “There’s a pot of coffee waiting for you.”
She smiled softly, walking behind me and wrapping her arms around me. “All couples fight, you know.”
I sighed, “I don’t want to talk about this anymore; I need to get this article done.”
She raised her eyebrows. “You’re writing a new article?”
“Of course I am,” I defended, my eyes not leaving my screen.
She poured herself a cup of the hot liquid.
“You love him.”
My eyes began to water and I fought to blink it away.
“Damn right I do,” I muttered to myself, though I was sure she heard me.
After finishing the draft of the article, I sent it over to Dean. Bree suggested that we go see our friends to distract me, but I wanted to stay home. I needed to write the final draft, and see George...both as soon as possible. Bree stayed around to make sure I’d be okay, watching television with me until Dean responded back with the edits. Once he finally did, I was rewriting the article and using his edits to perfect it. Once I’d finally finished it for Monday, I shut my laptop, grabbed my keys, and began driving to his house.
After parking, I climbed up the stairs until I reached his apartment door. I knocked a few times, nerves churning inside my stomach as I pondered all of the possible reactions he’d have. My biggest fear was that he’d never want to see me again. The door opened, revealing himself in a t-shirt and pajama pants, eyes puffy and bloodshot; I was sure my eyes looked the same.
“I-” I began, letting out a sigh. “I rewrote the article.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“It’s still sex-themed, but it doesn’t have any connection or correlation to you,” I explained, my voice beginning to croak. “I can email it to you, if you’d like. You can read it, see if it’s okay first.”
He shook his head silently. It was apparent that he didn’t know what to say either.
“I know I fucked up,” my voice broke and my bottom lip trembled. “I shouldn’t have come up with an article like that, it was so fucking awful of me to embarrass you in front of your coworkers.”
Tears began to run down my face and I couldn't help but hiccup.
“P-please, George,” I whimpered.
His eyes began to well with tears of his own, and he pulled me into his arms.
“I’m sorry for yelling at you outside of the restaurant,” he whispered, hugging me close to him.
“Oh, George,” I sobbed. “That was nothing; all you’ve done is treat me like gold, and I nearly exposed our fucking sex life to the world.”
He pulled away, cupping both of my cheeks with his palms, his blue orbs staring into mine, his eyelashes thick from wet tears and the whites of his eyes red.
“Please,” he begged, his voice cracking, “don’t lie, nor do something behind my back ever again.”
I pressed my hands against the backs of his, still holding my face in his palms.
“Never again,” I confirmed, throwing my arms around him to feel the warm embrace I thought I’d never feel again. I could inhale his scent, hear his heartbeat through his chest, stare into his ocean blue orbs, and feel the soft sandy curls on his head.
He read the article, and though it made him slightly uncomfortable that I was writing about penises, he designed simple art that would make the article pop in the magazine. Then, we laid in his bed for hours, listening to each others heartbeats, listening to our breathing rhythms, staring into each others eyes as if we were silently communicating to one another.
We decided to take a shower together, stripping each other of our clothes slowly and meaningfully. Once the hot water was running down our bare skin, we washed each other; shampooing each others hair slowly and washing our bodies tenderly, leaving kisses on wet shoulders and necks. Once we got out and dried off, we got back into his bed and maintained a spooning position, his bare torso against my bare back, as we dozed off to the warm, comforting feeling of our bare skin touching.
Monday morning, I sat down at my desk and sent the new article to Connie, anxiety making me bite my nails as I waited for a response back.
Ping.
Oh, no, I thought to myself.
Y/n,
Meet me in the conference room with Dean.
Connie
I sighed, exchanging looks with Dean–whom was reading the email over my shoulder–before we made our way to the conference room. She stood, her arms crossed, as we entered the room. I gulped, heart racing and sweat starting to form at my palms. The two of us sat ourselves, waiting for her to begin.
She joined us in a chair across from us, her elbows resting against the table.
“Well?” she began, her voice questioning. “What happened to the article?”
Dean looked at me, waiting for me to speak for myself. I braced myself before talking.
“The Sexperiment article wasn’t working for me, Connie,” I explained nervously, “I wasn’t having much luck writing it, and I wasn’t confident that it’d reach the magazine’s standards.”
I had to lie; I couldn’t tell her that the article nearly jeopardized my relationship. Dean sat next to me, silent.
She sighed, “I hope this one will reach the ‘magazine’s standards’, then,” she mimicked, before standing up and flattening her skirt. “I’ll publish the article, but this is a warning: do not change your article without contacting me first.”
And with that, we were dismissed, panic still swimming in our stomachs. Well, I thought, I chose George over my job; what else was I expecting?
#george mackay#george mackay x reader#George Mackay smut#1917#1917 schofield#1917 cast#dean charles chapman#x reader fic#x reader
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► ► Prompt list
༄ؘ BEN HARDY:
#14 "Has he ever touched you like this?" + #18 “We’re really going to fuck here? What if someone sees us?” (Four/Billy) NSFW (no smut)
#Ø Personal Prompt (Seb) NSFW 🔞
#9 "You’re late." "Yeah I would’ve got here on time, but I didn’t want to.” + #22 "Be a good girl and spread your legs." (Seb) NSFW 🔞
#16 "Well, since you want to cum so badly, why don’t we see how many times I can make you cum?" + #24 "If you leave the house wearing that, I'm bending you over the bed the second you come home" (Four/Billy) NSFW 🔞
#16 "Since you want to cum so badly, why don’t we see how many times I can make you cum?" + 25 "I wanna fuck you right against the glass so everyone can see how good you take it." (Seb) NSFW 🔞
#22 "Be a good girl and spread your legs." (Seb) NSFW 🔞
༄ؘ DEAN-CHARLES CHAPMAN:
#4 "I want to help you. So please, let me." + #6 "You're cold. Here, take my jacket." (Tom)
#11 “Don’t raise your fucking voice at me.” + #21 "We really shouldn’t be doing this..." (Matt) NSFW (no smut)
#13 "It’s just going to be for one night and there will be so much food and drinks and it’s all free, you just need to say yes and maybe take my hand a few times that night." + #21 "We really shouldn’t be doing this..." (Matthew)
#16 "Well, since you want to cum so badly, why don’t we see how many times I can make you cum?" + #19 "It’s my thigh or nothing, I’m not helping you get off.” (Matt) NSFW 🔞
#19 "It’s my thigh or nothing, I’m not helping you get off.” + #20 "Don’t act innocent when we both know where your mouth was two minutes ago" (Matt) NSFW 🔞
#12 "I don't... I've never... been in a relationship before and I'm going to make mistakes... I just need you to tell me. I need you to talk to me." + #1 "Kiss me." (Matt)
#5 "Tell me you love me again and i'll be yours" + #1 "Kiss me." (Matthew)
#10 "You look exhausted, are the nightmares getting bad again?" + #4 “I want to help you, so please let me.” (Matt)
#9 "You’re late." "Yeah I would’ve got here on time, but I didn’t want to.” + #2 "You always smile like an idiot when you're talking to her/him." "You're jealous aren't you?" "I'm not jealous." (Matt)
#2 You always smile like an idiot when you're talking to her/him (Matt)
༄ؘ FINN COLE:
#14 "Has he ever touched you like this?" + #15 "It's taking everything in me not to fuck the living shit out of you right now." (Michael) NSFW 🔞
#6 "You're cold. Here, take my jacket/coat" + #13 "It’s just going to be for one night and there will be so much food and drinks and it’s all free, you just need to say yes and maybe take my hand a few times that night." (Michael)
#2 "You always smile like an idiot when you're talking to her/him." "You're jealous aren't you?" "I'm not jealous." (Michael)
#11 “Don’t raise your fucking voice at me.” + #4 “I want to help you, so please let me.” (J Cody)
#blurb event vol.3#ben hardy x reader#billy/four x reader#ben hardy smut#michael gray imagine#michael gray x reader#peaky blinders x reader#michael gray fanfic
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Dean NSFW! Alphabet
A/N I’m so sorry this is so quick, I’ve been flat out recently. I wanted to post something but didn’t want to half-ass a request.
Request
Synopsis: Dean NSFW alphabet.
Word count: 1,015
A= Aftercare
Dean always likes pushing you to the maximum you can go. So even when you think it’s done it may not be, he’ll be pushing his fingers inside your tight, oversensitive pussy and praying for you to come once more.
However, once he’s sure you’ve given all you can he turns into the sweetest man you know, pulling you close, getting you a cloth and cleaning you up. Kissing and loving you as much as he can.
B= Boner
When you and Dean are out in public and he gets a stiff one he doesn’t want to just readjust and pretend it doesn’t happen, he makes sure he presses against you however he can, against the side of your leg, resting it between you bum cheeks.
He wants you to know that he wants you and if you’re willing to sneak off to that supply closest… Even better.
C=Cum
You, when you cum, is the hottest visual Dean has ever seen. He’ll never forget the way your lip pulls between your teeth as you let go all because of him, and he’ll never forget the taste of you on his tongue.
D= Dirty Secret
Dean has a stash of videos of the two of you. His favourite to watch while he’s away filming is when you’re deep throating him, gagging around his cock. He’ll watch it whenever he can on set, and he’ll be sure he’s got privacy because he knows ones he sees the tears in your eyes from trying to take all of him he’ll need a release.
E= Experience (How much do they have?)
Dean used to be a fuckboy. In the height of G.O.T he could get any girl he wanted. So he’s well versed on how to make a woman feel good. How hard to thrust to keep her coming, how if he wiggles his tongue gently enough on your clit while his fingers are buried inside of you it’ll cause you to squirt all over him.
F= Favorite Position
Dean loves to see you ride him. Watch your tits bounce while your head falls back in pleasure. He loves to watch you use him as your own personal fuck toy because he knows the second round he’s going to bend you over the side of the bed and not take it easy on you.
G= Gagging
Dean thinks there’s nothing prettier than you gagging on his cock, especially in the back of the limo where you know you have to be quiet and not make a sound.
H= Hair
He’s bald, he wants you to lick wherever you want without worrying about hair.
I=Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)
Dean’s always leaving kisses on your neck that to strangers seem sweet and romantic, but to you, you know it means he’s horny and he wants you to meet him int he car in 5 minutes.
J=Jerking off
He’s not a fan unless he’s doing it to you fucking yourself with your toys, or he’s away on set and he’s no other option.
K=Kink
He loves seeing you full. Often you’ll find yourself with a small vibrating dildo in your arse, a gag in your mouth and Dean going hard on your pussy. He’s also used these times to take photos of you as your coming unable to make a scream.
L=Location
He loves to fuck you in the shower. When you’re all wet and sudsy from your body wash. Makes slipping in even easier.
M=Motivation
When you’re playing with your lips at the dinner table, looking him up and down with those bedroom eyes, that’s all the motivation he needs to take you home.
N=No (Something they won’t do, turn-offs)
He refuses to degrade you.
O=Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
He loves to see you going down on him, nearly as much as he loves to go down on you.
P=Pace
He changes it up each time, you never know what Dean you’ll get.
Q=Quickie
He’s not a fan, he’d rather take his time and worship your body, even if your in public.
R= Rubbers
As soon as you and Dean got into a serious committed relationship, the pair of you decided you didn’t want to have a barrier between you and you made the decision on your own to get on the pill. Dean’s first time inside you, without a condom on was nearly enough to blow his brains out.
S=Stamina
He can normally last two rounds, but he makes you come at least three times before he’s finished.
T=Toys
He loves toys, he thinks they add to the fun. He loves taking you to dinner with a vibrator, or some Ben Wa Balls inside of you, He finds it especially fun when you have the Ben Wa Balls in your pussy and a little vibrator in your ass. He loves to hold the remote and turn it on when you’re eating, and watch as you give all the men around a little show.
U=Unfair teasing
He loves it when you tease him, take control and show skin on your nights out together, teasing him infant of his friends, because he knows when you get home he’ll be fucking you well into the early morning.
V=Volume
Dean likes to let you know when you’re pleasing him, and in return loves to know when he’s pleasing you. He always makes sure he tells you to tell him how good he’s making you feel.
W= Wild Card
He loves it when you dominate him, and hold him down between your legs, and use his cock like a toy.
X=X-Ray
The boy is long in length and soooo thick…
Y=Yearning
He fucks you at least once a day, ending in at least two orgasms minimal.
Z=ZZZ…
You’ll snuggle till you fall asleep, more than once you’ve fall asleep with him inside you, laid on his chest unable to move from the pleasure he dealt you.
#dean charles chapman#Dean Charles Chapman x reader#Dean Charles Chapman Imagine#Dean Charles Chapman Fanfic#Dean Charles Chapman Smut#Dean Charles Champan request
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Hey there! I was wondering if you could write about Dean making you breakfast for the first time? I love your Dean content btw and am in the mood for some domestic Dean :)
pairing: Dean Charles Chapman x reader
warnings: suggestive language, cursing, this doesn’t really give off domestic vibes and is a little thin I apologize :/
You groaned slightly and rubbed the sleep from your eyes, stretching your hands towards where you usually kept your phone. You panicked momentarily as you realized your table wasn't there anymore, opening your eyes and finding that you weren't in your room. And then you remembered going out with your friend and not making it home. You knew she had gotten up for work probably hours prior to you waking up. You rolled out of bed and headed for the shower, needing to pull yourself together in some way before you headed back out into the world, grateful you didn't have plans for the day. The shower was hot and soothed your hangover as you let the water roll over your body, your smudged makeup being stripped away like you were shedding a previous life.
Your friend's clothes were soft and neatly pressed in her drawers, making you smile at her tidiness as you pulled a few articles from their piles, careful not to disrupt anything too drastically. Her hoodie fit you snugly and as you looked into the mirror, you furrowed your brows slightly, debating if you should put makeup on or not. After all, you weren't planning on running into anyone special. As you stepped out of her room, noises from the kitchen startled you. You crept down the stairs quietly and pushed open the kitchen door, the creaking of the hinges revealing a man at her stove. The two of you looked up at each other and jumped, him almost dropping his bowl.
"Who the fuck are you?" You demanded, grabbing the nearest household item to serve as a weapon. You swore under your breath as you realized it was a remote.
"I live here. Who the fuck are you?" He mimicked your tone, furrowing his brows at you. You let out a breath of relief.
"Oh thank God. You're the new roommate?" You asked, setting down the remote and walking into the kitchen.
"Yeah. I'm Dean…" he hesitated, his eyes watching you pour yourself a cup of coffee.
"I'm the best friend," you greeted, mumbling your name soon after.
His eyebrow raised at you. "Want some breakfast?" You looked over him slightly to see what he was making. "There's going to be tons leftover."
"Alright. Don't poison me, Dean," you jeered, moving to sit on the kitchen island.
He chuckled, turning back to the stove. "I won't. Just don't hit me with the remote." You giggled slightly at his jest while he smirked. It was now that you fully took in his appearance. You had been too blinded by adrenaline and excitement that you hadn't noticed how broad his shoulders were and how his dark hair was just the right amount of curly. He peered over his shoulder at you before turning to lean against the counter beside the stove while the pan got hotter. His blue eyes were vibrant due to the contrast of his black hoodie. You had to admit, he was cute.
"So, where are you from, Dean?" You asked, swinging your legs and taking a sip of coffee. You studied where his clothes hugged his body and the easiness in his appearance, your eyes trailing down to his grey sweatpants. Nice.
"Essex," he muttered, searching your face for something. “Romford, Essex.”
"You're a long way from home then, aren't you?" You asked without skipping a beat.
He smirked. "Sometimes distance is good, don't you think?"
"Not if you're around the right person," you commented, sending him a mildly flirtatious grin, making the tips of his ears ghost red.
His eyebrows perked as he grinned. "Cheeky." His eyes raked over you as well, almost like sizing up an opponent.
You wet your lips, feeling rather bold. Men in domestic situations were always your weakness. Especially when they were as attractive as Dean. "Do you have that right person?" You quizzed.
He grinned fully, shrugging and turning back to an egg frying. "I don't think I would be living in a flat like this if I did." His sly wink made you smile.
"Really? Even if you've only dated a girl for like a month, you'd move in with her?" You hopped down from the counter to lean beside him.
He swallowed, fighting his ever-growing grin before looking back up into your eyes with a mock sincerity on his face. "Oh no, I'm a hopeless romantic, you see. I'd get married within the week if I met that right person."
You giggled at his comment and he smiled. "How many times have you been married then?"
"In the past year? Four," he shrugged. You laughed a bit harder. "Damn, I could get used to that," he commented, almost too quiet for your own ears, making you bite your lip.
You crossed your arms. "I could get used to having a man in the kitchen."
"Good, because usually, I sleep in the kitchen," he quipped.
"Oh yeah?” You crossed your arms to keep from giving in to your temptations. ”Under the kitchen table or on top?"
"Under. I'm not a heathen," he faked offense.
You bit back another chuckle, deciding to probe further. "So you like to be on bottom?"
His face twisted smugly before his eyes turned to yours. The blue in his eyes seemed to have grown darker. "If that's what the table would prefer.”
"And if the table wants you on top?" He leaned towards you, closing what little distance there was between the two of you. Your heart began to race a mile per minute, as his musky yet woody scent invaded your senses. God, he smelled more enticing than the food he was cooking.
"So be it," he answered, a sly smirk creeping across his face, as he reached around you to grab a bottle of some kind of spice. You almost reached out and touched him.
"I like you," you uttered and he grinned at what he was doing.
"Feelings mutual, love," he added keenly.
"Too bad we're not roommates," you leered, stepping ever so slightly closer to him, your thigh ghosting against his leg.
He leaned towards you again, his beautiful scent once again enveloping you. "Careful, I marry on the first date, remember?"
You smiled, biting your lip, his attention drawing to your mouth. "I thought you said within the week?"
"Different circumstances," he threw back, a grin still playing on his plump lips. He moved to hand you a plate of a variety of foods.
You took it but kept him holding onto the other side. "Would you want to get a drink later?"
He chewed his bottom lip. "You ready for the commitment?" He joked.
"I'm ready for whatever you want from me, Dean," you commented, taking the plate and nudging his side as you walked out of the kitchen with it, basking in his deep chuckle.
this is so cheesy bls forgive me
#deancharleschapman#dean-charles chapman#dean charles chapman#dean charles chapman imagine#dean charles chapman smut#dean charles chapman x reader#dean charles chapman fluff#1917 imagines#1917 imagine#1917#breakfast#roommate
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when your best friend dies and you forget babies dont have teeth
#1917#george mackay#dean charles chapman#george mackay x reader#george mackay smut#george mackay imagine#dean charles chapman x reader#dean charles chapman imagine#dean charles chapman smut#tom blake#tom blake imagine#tom blake x reader#will schofield#will schofield smut#will schofield imagine#will schofield x reader
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Requests Are OPEN
(I’m happy to do crossovers for anyone who like one)
I’ll do more than just romance ideas as well, if you want a father/daughter or best friends, siblings etc. that’s completely okay.
This is also the same masterlist for if anyone wants any Match-ups, gifs, icons basically just anything you want.
If it's in italics then it's because those are my favourite or the ones I just find easiest to write.
One-shots: Whatever relationship you like, characters included and either writing prompt or small idea of what you want to happen
Match-ups: Fandom (as many as you like), gender/pronouns and sexuality, basic description of physical features and some hobbies/interests, style, any extra info if you like
MINORS
⭐ - Headcanon
❤ - Romance
💋 - Smut
💛 - Fluff
🌹 - Angst
----------
MASTERLIST
----------
Requests are open for the following fandoms:
The Alienist
Cyrus
John Moore
Laszlo Kreisler
Lucius Issacson
Marcus Issacson
Sara Howard
Stevie
The Breakfast Club
Allison Reynolds (the basketcase)
Andrew Clark (the jock)
Brian Johnson (the nerd)
Claire Standish (the princess)
John Bender (the criminal)
Buffy The Vampire Slayer
Angel
Buffy Summers
Rupert Giles
Oz
Spike
Willow Rosenberg
Xander Harris
Criminal Minds
Aaron Hotchner
Alex Blake
David Rossi
Derek Morgan
Elle Greenway
Emily Prentiss
Jennifer Jareau
Kate Callahan
Penelope Garcia
Spencer Reid
DC - (I'm not the biggest fan so the character list for this is short)
(any characters from)
Aquaman
Wonder Woman - I haven't watched 1984, sorry
Divergent
Caleb Prior
Christina
Eric
Peter
Tobias Eaton
Tori
Tris Prior
Will
Doctor Who
10th Doctor
11th Doctor
Amy Pond
Glee
Artie Abrams
Blaine Anderson
Britney Pierce
Finn Hudson
Jake Puckerman
Kurt Hummel
Kitty Wilde
Marley Rose
Mike Chang
Noah Puckerman
Quinn Fabray
Rachel Berry
Santana Lopez
Sam Evans
Tina Cohen-Chang
The Greatest Showman
Anne Wheeler
Charity Barnum
Charles Stratton
Jenny Lind
Lettie Lutz
Phillip Carlyle
P.T Barnum
W.D Wheeler
Grey’s Anatomy (up to the end of season 9)
Addison Montgomery
Alex Karev
Amelia Shepard
April Kepner
Arizona Robbins
Callie Torres
Christina Yang
Denny
Derek Shepard (McDreamy)
Finn Dandridge (McVet)
George O’Malley
Izzie Stevens
Jo Wilson
Lexie Grey
Mark Sloan (McSteamy)
Meredith Grey
Miranda Bailey
Owen Hunt (McSoldier)
Richard Webber
Teddy Altman
Harry Potter
Angelina Johnston
Blaise Zabini
Dean Thomas
Draco Malfoy
Fred Weasley
George Weasley
Ginny Weasley
Harry Potter
Hermione Granger
Katie Bell
Luna Lovegood
Neville Longbottom
Pansy Parkinson
Ron Weasley
Seamus Finnigan
(Young) Tom Riddle
Bellatrix Lestrange
Hagrid
James Potter
Lily Evans
Narcissa Malfoy
Newt Scammander
Nymphadora Tonks
Peter Pettigrew
Remus Lupin
Severus Snape
Sirius Black
The Hunger Games
Beetee
Cato
Cinna
Clove
Effie Trinket
Finnick Odair
Gale Hawthrone
Glimmer
Haymitch Abernethy
Joannah Mason
Katniss Everdeen
Marvel
Peeta Mellark
Primrose Everdeen
Rue
Inkheart
Dustfinger
Farid
Meggie
Mortimer
Knives Out
Benoit Blanc
Marta Cabrera
Ransom Drysdale
Kong: Skull Island
Cole
Houstan Brooks
Jack Chapman
James Conrad
Mason Weaver
Mills
San
Slivko
Lab Rats
Adam Davenport
Bree Davenport
Chase Davenport
Donald Davenport
Douglas Davenport
Leo Dooley
Marcus Davenport
Tasha Davenport
Mamma Mia
Sky
Donna Sheridan
Rosie
Tanya
Sam Carmichael
Bill Anderson
Harry Bright
Sophie Sheridan
Marvel Cinematic Universe (I haven’t watched WandaVision but it’s on my list, I just don’t want to ball my eyes out)
Baron Helmet Zemo
Bruce Banner
Bucky Barnes
Clint Barton
Darcy Lewis
Drax
Gamora
Groot
Jane Foster
Loki Laufeyson
Natasha Romanoff
Nebula
Peggy Carter
Peter Parker
Peter Quill
Rocket
Sam Wilson
Sharon Carter
Shuri
Stephen Strange
Steve Rogers
T’Challa
Thor Odinson
Tony Stark
Vision
Wanda Maximoff
The Mighty Ducks
Adam Banks
Charlie Conway
Connie Monreau
Dean Portman
Dwayne Robertson
Fulton Reed
Gordan Bombay
Greg Goldberg
Guy Germaine
Jesse Hall
Julie Gaffney
Lester Averman
Luiz Mendoza
Russ Tyler
Ted Orion
Terry Hall
NCIS
Eleanor Bishop
Kate Todd
Leroy Jethro Gibbs
Nick Torres
Timothee McGee
Tony Dinozzo
Ziva David
Now You See Me
Daniel Atlas
Dylan Rhodes
Henley Reeves
Jack Wilder
Lula May
Merritt McKinney
One Tree Hill
Brooke Davis
Haley James-Scott
Lukas Scott
Mouth McFadden
Nathan Scott
Peyton Sawyer
The Originals
Aiden
Davina Claire
Elijah Mikaelson
Freya Mikaelson
Hayley Marshall
Joshua (Josh) Rosza
Klaus Mikaelson
Kol Mikaelson
Rebekah Mikaelson
Pitch Perfect
Barden Bellas
Beca Mitchell
Chloe
Emily Junk
Fat Amy
Flo
Stacie
DSM
Kommissar
Pieter Kramer
Treblemakers
Benji
Bumper Allen
Jessie
Rush
James Hunt
Niki Lauda
Scandal (seasons 1-3)
Abby Whelan
Charlie
David Rosen
Fitz Grant
Harrison Wright
Huck
Jake Ballard
Mellie Grant
Olivia Pope
Quinn Perkins
Stephen Finch
Sherlock (RDJ Movies)
Irene Adler
John Watson
Sherlock Holmes
Sherlock BBC
Greg Lestrade
Irene Adler
Jim Moriarty
John Watson
Mary Watson
Molly Hooper
Mycroft Holmes
Sherlock Holmes
Suits (I'm halfway through S3, just finished thingy oils plotline)
Donna Paulsen
Harvey Spectre
Louis Litt
Mike Ross
Rachel Zane
Supernatural
Castiel
Charlie
Claire Novak
Crowley
Dean Winchester
Gabriel
Rowena
Sam Winchester
Teen Wolf
Adrian Harris
Allison Argent
Bobby Finstock
Chris Argent
Derek Hale
Hayden
Issac Lahey
Jackson Whittemore
Jordan Parrish
Kira Yukimara
Liam Dunbar
Lydia Martin
Malia Tate/Hale
Noah Stilinski
Peter Hale
Scott McCall
Stiles Stilinski
Theo Raeken
Twilight
Alec
Alice Cullen
Bella Swan/Cullen
Carlisle Cullen
Demitri
Edward Cullen
Embry McCall
Emmet Cullen
Esme Cullen
Felix
Jane
Jasper Hale
Leah Clearwater
Paul Lahote
Quill
Rosalie Hale
Sam
Seth Clearwater
The Vampire Diaries
Alaric Saltzman
Bonnie Bennet
Caroline Forbes
Elena Gilbert
Enzo St. John
Damon Salvatore
Jenna Sommers
Jo Laughlin
Kai Parker
Matt Donovan
Stefan Salvatore
Tyler Lockwood
Lexi Branson
Liv Parker
Valerie
Vicki Donovan
X-Men
Charles Xavier
Erik
Kurt Wagner
Logan
Raven
Youngblood
Dean Youngblood
Derek Sutton
Jessie Chadwick
Coach Murray Chadwick
#fandom_lover20#The Alienist#The Breakfast Club#Buffy the Vampire Slayer#Criminal Minds#Divergent#Doctor Who#Glee#The Greatest Showman#Grey's Anatomy#Harry Potter#The Hunger Games#Inkheart#Kong: Skull Island#Knives Out#Kong Skull Island#Lab Rats#Mamma Mia#MCU#Marvel Cinematic Universe#The Mighty Ducks#NCIS#Now You See Me#One Tree Hill#The Originals#Pitch Perfect#Scandal#Rush#Sherlock#Sherlock RDJ
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Lo’s Blurb Event v. 2
i made significant changes to the blurb list, and added 10 more prompts so it’s an even 30 fluff/angst and 30 smut. i was finding it difficult to keep writing the same ones over and over again, so here’s a new and improved list :)
RULES:
choose up to 3 prompts from the list below for one person (you can choose just one, just two, or three total)
no descriptions please :)
please check and see if the number you want has been done multiple times, or if the combination of prompts you want has been done. there are 60 prompts. please mix them up.
if you send in a number/combination that has been done before, i will choose which prompts i want to do (it will be the ones that i haven’t done much of)
please be patient during this :) i promise i see your requests! it may take me some time to get around to them
WHO YOU CAN REQUEST FOR:
Finn Cole
Josh Cody
Dean-Charles Chapman (no smut prompts)
Tom Blake
Matt (BBTL)
i’m just gonna keep with these five since no one’s requested for derek or dennis, and i’m having fun writing more for finn and josh :)
LIST OF PROMPTS
“What’s this? Between us?”
“It’s all my/your fault.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Don’t do this here.”
“You know, it’s okay to cry.”
“I have something to tell you.”
“Stay with me.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I know you still love me.”
“Kiss me. Please.”
“Just hold my hand?”
“I won’t let you go, I promise.”
“I hate that you’re mad at me, but you look so damn hot right now.”
“Come back to bed.”
“I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“We’re just friends.”
“I’m pregnant.”
“Stop lying and tell me the truth!”
“Are you upset with me?”
“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“Look at me.”
“You’re mine.”
“You look so damn cozy and cute.”
“What do you want me to do, huh?”
“We have to be quiet.”
“I never meant to hurt you.”
“It’s midnight! Where the hell are you?”
“I can’t believe you!”
“I wish you were here.”
“You know I have feelings for you.”
“Shut up.” “Make me.”
“Stop teasing.”
“Don’t lie. You want this as much as I do.”
“We’re in public, you know?”
“You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat.”
“You don’t have to be gentle with me, I don’t break easily.”
“Touch yourself for me.”
“What do you want?”
“Does that feel good?”
“They’re gonna catch us.”
“You have no idea how much I want you.”
“Don’t give me that look.”
“Why are you moaning then?”
“I’m gonna fuck you until you beg me to stop.”
“You better shut that pretty little mouth before I put it to work, baby girl.”
“You take my fingers so well, don’t you?”
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day.”
“I want you inside of me.”
“I don’t care how good it feels, you better not cum until I tell you to.”
“You always look so hot when I mark you up.”
“How quickly can you cum?”
“Your ass is going to be seven different shades of red after that little stunt.”
“You don’t need to cover those up. They’re so pretty.”
“I’m not going to touch you unless you beg.”
“You look so hot. I’m trying so hard not to fuck you senseless right now.”
“I love seeing you so wet/hard.”
“Moan for me, baby.”
“I just want to show you how much I love you.”
“Bend over. Now.”
“Lie back and let me take care of you.”
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Y’all I got a doozy in the works
#dean charles chapman x reader#fanfiction#fanfic#smut#dean charles chapman smut#dean charles chapman imagines
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