shradergallagher

[shradergallagher]

q-lennox:

She’s aggressive and wild, and she’s fire and unrelenting passion. She pressed back with everything she has, mewling in pleasure, hands clenching the hotel bedsheets beneath them. Quentin gritted his teeth, hissing in sensation when she shifted her hips and everything was tighter. She was intoxicating and he couldn’t get enough of the way her walls contracted around him.

He was vaguely aware of the knocking on the door somewhere in the back of his mind but he couldn’t care less. The only thing he could pay attention to was Shrader’s pants and delicate moans resonating against the walls of the hotel room. Their ragged breathing joining together and their overheated bodies rocking with each and everything thrust. 

Her little dulcet sounds were becoming more fervent and her muscles started to tense up beneath him and she quivered in his arms. His kept moving his fingers in circles in motion with his hips, and god, it was irresistible. Q could tell she was on the verge of losing it - her eyes shut tight in concentration. Her hair was cascading wildly around her face and she was so unbelievably beautiful.

And he was on the brink. Already doubled over, his lips smoothed up and down as his own body moved. One final moan from her and it drove him over the edge, pulling that knot from the pit of his stomach and sending stars dancing around his vision. He pulled his hips from inside her and released on the small of her back.

Just like that, she came crashing down.

The room was cold because her hair was still wet. She was exhausted because she’d just worked up a sweat fucking her brains out after not eating all day and being traumatized by her father a second time. Her body was spent and her head was spinning. Her back was wet and she closed her eyes, breathing, thinking - she didn’t feel as good as she hoped she would. Wasn’t happier, wasn’t fixed. She hadn’t forgotten. Just covered it up for a moment. Everything was still there, raw and bleeding.

Shrader took a handful of tissues from the box on the nightstand and wiped off her back and threw them away. A strange offensive that he hadn’t cum inside her made her even more confused, a gladness that he hadn’t blanketed the slight. Her arms shook, weak with exhaustion, and she slowly lowered herself onto the bed, sinking deep into the mattress, no longer hungry.

Home. She had to get home. She just fucked her boyfriend and didn’t feel like she usually did; didn’t feel in love and didn’t feel adored. Guilt swept over her. Why didn’t she want to say “I love you” over and over again, like always? Why did she pull up the covers and hide her body when the knock on the door came again, instead of lounging in the presence of their nakedness, basking in the afterglow? Why was she itching for a smoke and a drink? And why did closing her eyes seem like the best alternative?

She stayed hidden under the covers and longed for another shower. She wanted to be home, in a place where they were safe and ignorant of all that had gone on here. She wished they had never come to New York.

Where had all these thoughts been before? Ignored, maybe. Refused to acknowledge them, that they were real. Regret felt ugly and dark. The pain of rejection and failure and hearing her own father tell her he didn’t love her anymore was grim, sickly, alive inside her. Shrader felt her nose clog and throat sting and knew she might cry again.

The food came but she wasn’t hungry. All she wanted to do was turn out the light.

collide

[shradergallagher]

Living in rose-tinted thoughts, Shrader was powerless against the rising dulcet noises coming like imperfect notes that matched their rhythm, soft responses to his words. Her skin flushed hot and rippled with chills. It felt right to be doing wrong - because, surely, this was the wrong thing to do, wild and inappropriate and shameful to attach it to what had just happened. Her hips battled any good sense she had left in her, eyes unsure they wanted to fight for a glimpse of Quentin’s face or if it were better that he didn’t see. Pain and pleasure twisted her eyes shut and sweat voided their showered skin. Forget yesterday, forget tomorrow, forget, forget, forget.

She needed the release to erase her mindpaths, to finally clean the slate and start over. Quentin pitched over and kissed her back, wrapping his arm around her hips and pressing his fingers between her thighs. A loud moan in reaction came to appease him and spur him on, craving the touches to grow faster, stronger. She moved her hips to his guide, her hands clawing the sheets below and begging for the final throes.

Strings of yeses found space between sucking breaths and fast sighs. Toes curled and thighs clenched and the build tightened and wound so fiercely she thought it might hurt, it might stop, it might break, but her mouth hung open to call a moan into the room, crying of her suffering and pleasure, skin shimmering with champagne light and endless nights. Her mind fell blank, a clean slate, a new beginning, uninfected with the past and unabashedly focused and obsessed with how perfect the boy behind her made her feel.

collide

[shradergallagher]

[shradergallagher]

q-lennox:

“epic-porno started following you“

but…….why

because we’re...

so...good...at smut?

ooc

[shradergallagher]

q-lennox:

ooc; I’m getting this today.

YES GOOD PERFECT UGH I LOVE SOUTHSIDE

[shradergallagher]

ooc

watching ashton do his thing on the drums is a spiritual and erotic experience

just

like

 get in me

[shradergallagher]

No matter where you are - waking up from a nightmare, cold and shivering; photographing the most amazing sunrise you’ve ever seen; weak and sobbing as you bury someone you love; holding your newborn child for the very first time - know that you have all the strength inside you that you will ever need. All you have to do is look.

[shradergallagher]

q-lennox:

If moans had a taste, Shrader’s would be the sweetest. Her skin was the softest, the best to feel against his own. Her kisses still made his heart beat faster than the speed of light. Her muscles pulled him in, forcing another deep moan to come from him. Being inside of her was one of the best sensations, only second to hear those three powerful words roll off her tongue. 

She exhaled a confirmation and there was no holding back the smirk that appeared in his expression. Open mouthed kisses on the flesh of her neck, dotting them closer to her throat, he retrieved from inside of her and sat back on his heels with his hands still tight on her hips. Quentin wet his lips at the sight. Legs spread and thighs clenched, her chest heaving from heavy breathing. And he allowed himself to be selfish. Tonight she was his.

Q massaged his thumbs over her hip bones before smoothing his palms over her bum. Squeezing and caressing. Hands up the small of her back, he sat her up, dipping his head so their lips met. Before he got carried away, he turned her over so she was on her knees. Her back was her weak spot, much like his scalp was his. His dexterous fingers trailed up and down her spine. He leaned down and peppered more kisses where his fingers played. 

It was fun to tease, but he wanted her now. Room service wasn’t going to take their time; they didn’t have the hint of they actvities. He took himself in hand and entered her for the second time.

After a while, she gave up trying to think. She didn’t imagine anyone’s face, she didn’t try to have a conversation with herself, she didn’t even bother to filter through the passionate words exhaling out of her mouth. She focused on the sensation his lips left behind on her throat, the push and pull of his hips tight against hers, the sound of his moans in her ear. Chills shot up and down her skin when he sighed so close to her, pulling breathless noises from her chest, her fingers pressing into his shoulders, as if she were afraid of falling.

She was coated in a fine layer of sweat by the time he pulled away and sat up, a rush of air cooling her off. She put her fingers in the front of her hair, trying to catch her breath, watching him watch her. She sighed into each touch his hands laid on her body, obediently following his silent commands to sit up, her back pressing up to reach his kiss. Her heart beat hard and fast, waiting for him to make the move.

And he did - onto her knees, his hand immediately splaying onto her spine, her back arching in response and a gasp transformed into long, soft sigh. He textured her skin with his lips. Shrader opened her mouth to praise him, but her words cut short in her throat and were replaced by a moan as he pushed into her again. An ecstatic cuss made it halfway out, maybe, she couldn’t tell, as her hand pushed into the headboard and her hips sat back into him.

A shiver laced her nerves again and again. With eyes wadded shut and mouth ajar, she could think of only one thing to say, “Quentin.”

collide

[shradergallagher]

q-lennox:

a summer in wisconsin

[shradergallagher]

q-lennox:

The entire world in that moment consisted of only what happened in this hotel room; just him and her forever. No regrets. No thinking. Just the feeling of their bodies dancing together to create magic. Every moment inside of her was one he wanted to revel in. Shrader pleaded and he complied, snapping his hips harder and faster, gripping her hands with the same amount of intensity. And he was already sweating, face hot from the movement and the sensation of the pulling in his abdomen. 

He thrusted his hips with speed and vigor, lips clumsily bumping against hers. Quentin loved the closeness, chests pressed together, more than anything. But he wanted this to be a night she’d remember, to look back on and only think of how it felt for him to be inside of her and when she came. “Baby, I’m gonna turn you around, okay?” He smoothed a heated kiss onto her neck before taking her hips and lifting them higher.

He kicked it into high gear almost immediately after she’d asked, hands locking overhead and sweat slicking between them, and she got a wild satisfaction out of picturing her father, sobbing on his new wife’s shoulder, bawling about what a mistake he’d made and what a terrible father he was and how sorry he knew he would be - and her, moaning in her boyfriend’s ear in a hotel room, grunting and sighing with arousal and angst not two hours after their separation. She felt herself wind up tighter, her muscles pulling at him from inside, eyes shut tight in pleasure-pain. It was all the work with all the payoff, forehead dotted with sweat and seeing droplets peel down his face.

Her knuckles went white with the force of her grip, mouth against his and moaning down his throat each time he pistoned in and sighing every time he retreated. Toes curled, thighs clenched, and loving the friction between their chests, hips, hands. His voice pulled a sound out of her that, to anyone else, might have resembled a string of agony, but the low-timber tones and the vibration in his chest and the words themselves - turn around.

“Yes,” she barely breathed out, nodding, catching the same exhale as he lifted her hips and the sigh formed a sound that caught in her throat where he’d kissed - head reeling back and exposing her neck and the sound smoking all the way from her chest to her lips.

collide

[shradergallagher]

[shradergallagher]

He gets mad when I cross the road without looking left. He says, for Christ’s sakes stop drinking caffeine have a tea instead. He walks to my house in the dark when I’m crying and he stands outside in the pouring rain while I pick myself up. He gathers all my loose strands of hair and calls me a lion. He laughs with me when I am clumsy (which is often). He says hugs are better than kisses because you use your whole body and I would tend to disagree, except his arms feel so much like home. When he’s sad he rests his head upon my shoulder, when I make him sad he’s quiet and hurt, but never cold. When I make him laugh I think the sun was modelled on his smile, I’ve been in Winter but he feels a lot like Spring. You’ll ask me what love feels like and I’ll say ‘safety’. You’ll say, how do you know when you’re in love? and I’ll say ‘you just do.’ You’ll exclaim, that’s not enough! I still don’t know! But the truth is it’s not important. If you find someone worth writing poems about, don’t let them go.

Sue Zhao (via blossomfully)

[shradergallagher]

[shradergallagher]

pinayrps:

Advent Calendar RP Meme — Day Three: Favorite OTP of Mine

              Quentin Lennox & Shrader Gallagher. established may 1st, 2014. lovers of all things marvel. listens to motown during car rides. both come with parental baggage. jokes about getting married while playing basketball — here they are now. love each other to the end of the universe and back.

“It was meant to be.”          “Obviously. We’re destined to be together. Written in the stars.” “You said it, not me.”

[shradergallagher]

[shradergallagher]

q-lennox:

people would want to kick them out but then q would be all “no no it’s okay. we’re in love and having a baby. it’s all good here.” and then they would make so much noise. he’d even try to make a pass at her in the dressing room which is ironic because here they are at a maternity for the very act of what they want to do in the fitting room

lmao tbh she would just kinda look around in the dressing room and be like “...i mean, okay.” and then jump his bones. and whisper about how wow fucking standing up hurts when you’ve got thirty pounds strapped to your hips. and then laugh and take him out to lunch because lbr he’s the best husband/dad ever.

[shradergallagher]

q-lennox:

Shrader said it was okay, and if she said it was okay then… it was okay. Q could always pull out. He doesn’t recall a single time he had before but he wouldn’t want a repeat of what happened after their time in the restaurant restroom.

Focus, Quentin, focus. Now’s not the time to think about that.

All he knew was that he was here and she was here. And he wanted her. Needed her as much as she needed him. Life didn’t give them the pleasures of having the privilege to make love all night and day, but what they had was the rest of this time until the sun came up and he wasn’t going to waste it. All his attention and concentration - his entire being was going to Shrader.

She drew lines down the flesh of his back and he shivered at the contact, the tingling heading to the pit of his abdomen. She could bring him to his knees with a single moan. Every touch and sound pulled at all the right strings. He was the puppet and she was the master. His sweatpants were toed off, now it was his boxers that needed to disappear. He left a much needed for resolution kiss on her lips before he sat back on his heels. Thumbs circling the waistband. Boxers off and gone, forgotten.

He looked at her like he’d been deprived from her touch for too long. And if he thought about it, he had. The past few seconds not in touch with her body was a painful feeling. So he started at her knees. Hands smoothed over the joints, up and down her thighs. Squeezing her muscles, dragging her nails. His palms traversing her stomach, the curve of her waist to the slope of her breasts. There wasn’t a part of her body he hadn’t touched. Now it was time to move to the bones of her hips.

Fuck… he thought privately, licking his lips hungrily. He didn’t want to spend another moment not inside of her. He curled his fingers into her panties and pulled them down until they passed her feet. One toss and it landed on the lampshade.

“You’re going to forget everything else. Everything. Except for the way I feel inside of you. Except for my name. I’m going to have every part of you.” He crawled over her again, their stomachs pushed against each other, being one with each other. Pressing their lips together with a sharp inhale, he grabbed ahold of himself and lined at her entrance. And he slowly pushed. There was euphoric feeling that held a candle to this one, with the exception of when they came together. His mouth hung open as he moaned deeply, bringing her hands to the top of her head and locking their fingers together as he rolled his hips to move in and out of her.

It was the collision - the meeting of everything, all at once, in one fluid motion, compiling and exploding and bursting into flames. It was the collision that kept her there, kept her coming back, kept her hungry eyes on him. It was made up of the drive to Ellen’s, of their rip-roaring fight, of the phone calls and texts and crying alone in the bus station, of dancing in a coffee shop, of warm baths, of distracted foreplay and bad sleep, of wild heartbeats and tearing open the past and sobs and hugs and kisses and I love yous.

Thinking went out the window when he was naked and she wasn’t. Hunger and exhaustion were forgotten, just the sounds of fast inhales and heavy exhales, of hands running over skin and sighs that trailed up to the ceiling. She was always aware - in awe - about how he touched her body. Hungry, but not demanding nourishment, in reverence, in worship. It made her feel every bit as beautiful as he claimed she was.

His hands grabbed her hips, fingers curled into the waistband of her underwear and got rid of them before she could so much as say please.

The way he spoke was sure, commanding - in any other world, she might have been frightened by him, threatened by him. Promises to forget and promises of capture. She was his and there was nothing they could do about it. Tonight, that was exactly what she wanted. She wanted to forget. She wanted to leave today behind and be owned by someone. Except my name. In obedient praise, she breathed out the first letter.

He kissed her and cut off her voice, hard and restless, his body pushing her into the bed and earning another moan against his lips. It seemed to happen quickly and yet not fast enough, her need reminiscent of the friction against her nerves and his mouth over her and the weight of his body - her mouth opened with his and he pushed in and she wasn’t sure if she screamed with pleasure or moaned or sighed or anything but she knew she was seeing stars. He pinned her hands overhead, her thighs squeezing his hips and her back high off the bed.

She was dizzy-drunk instantly. No other names circled her head and she couldn’t breathe when he moved and she never wanted to come down again. She sent greedy moans of thanks down his throat. She said his name, and only his name.

“Harder,” she ordered from her helpless position, body submissive but eyes full of fire. “Quentin, go harder.”

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