#cemmia

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

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The Plan [Marcus Pike x f!reader]

Read on Ao3

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: The Mentalist

Pairing: Marcus Pike x you/cishet f!reader. Reader is fat/overweight but this is never explicitly mentioned. Also, reader is a lawyer. (I know nothing about lawyering.)

Tags/Warnings: Sad Marcus, alcohol mention, one night stands, fellatio mention, neighbours with benefits, safe sex, squirting, cunnilingus, reader has a difficult relationship with her family, mad dash through the airport at Christmas, trauma dumping (Marcus coming clean about his disappointment after Lisbon dumped him).

Summary: A drunken one night stand with your cute new neighbour Marcus Pike eventually leads to more. Takes place after his story arc in the show.

Words: 7,895

A/N: My first Marcus Pike fic, and also I finished a goddamn fic! There is so much cause for celebration here, folks. Remember to comment and reblog: sharing is caring.

Shout-out to @missredherring and @pazizz who read drafts and helped me forward with this story <3

Marcus Pike does not have a bitter disposition. He does not sulk, or harbor resentment. It's just not in his nature.

Until now.

There is just something so unforgivable, incomprehensible, wrong about the way Teresa Lisbon left him. She called him to say she was coming to D.C., that she would marry him, and two hours later she called again to inform him that she wasn't. That she was in love with Patrick Jane. That asshole.

Marcus has been divorced, and not even that made him spiral as hard as the breakup from Teresa. It just hit harder, because he had fallen so hard for her, for the way she dipped her gaze and chin when a smile broke out on her lips, before looking back up at him with those pretty eyes of hers. He fell for her sense of humor, her intelligence, the way it was so easy to be with her. And he really thought that she fell for him in the same way. Maybe she did - but Jane was there, in the background, confusing her, wooing her with one last big, desperate gesture. If Marcus had known that all it took to keep Teresa was to get himself arrested, he would've done that instead of bringing her takeout at work, making her morning coffee just as she liked it, loaning her his jacket when she was cold during that date, all the thousands of little things that he did for her, that he loved doing for her because he loved her so much that doing those things weren't a chore, they weren't planned, they were an honest, spontaneous expression of his feelings for her.

And then, one big, desperate gesture that rendered Marcus's all small, everyday gestures moot. And it pisses him off.

Practicality kicked in as a form of survival. He quickly cancelled the purchase of the house he had Teresa had picked out, found a condo instead, moved in with his things, and threw himself into his work. Most of the boxes were left unpacked. His place didn't feel like a home because he couldn't let it. He was supposed to share one with Teresa, and now there was just him, surrounded by moving boxes that he had to deal with but couldn't, wouldn't. What should've been a house for the two of them - maybe more in the future? - with a little garden, walls impregnated with love and excitement for a life together, sunlight through the window during long weekend mornings of slow breakfasts, putting up Christmas decorations together, all those things that he was looking forward to. Now he has a bachelor pad, in a fancy apartment building with a doorman, but a sad bachelor pad all the same. The furniture is more or less where it should be, but he hasn't bothered to plan that much. The kitchen table is too big, but he's not in any condition to sell it off and buy a new one. The bookcases are half full, and his artwork is still unhung. He really tried there, but the first painting he got his hands on was one that he had seen before him in the spacious yet cozy living-room in That House, with the fireplace, and suddenly no wall in his apartment was good enough. So he put the painting away, and the rest were left packed down.

He even started going out after work, when he couldn't stay any longer but didn't want to go home. He found a watering hole to his liking, and became a regular, nursing one whiskey after another until he could go home and fall into bed for a deep, dreamless sleep.

It's after one of those nights that he finds you, his neighbor, trying to open his front door with your key. Your clumsy yet meticulous movements tell him that you're intoxicated, and there is something endearing about the way you're frowning, the tip of your tongue sticking out the side of your mouth as you focus on sticking in the key that doesn't fit.

When Marcus comes closer, you notice him, and look up. Quickly registering that it's the workaholic neighbor that you rarely see, you just nod, and go back to trying to open the door.

"That's my door," he says, and you look up again.

"What's that?"

"That's my door. You're trying to get into my apartment."

You frown, your hand holding the key falling to your side as you process his words. You then squint at the number of the door, taking a few seconds to realize that this is, indeed, not your front door.

"Oops," you mutter, then grimace apologetically at your neighbor. "Well, this isn't embarrassing at all."

"Don't worry about it," he shrugs, fishing his own key from his pocket. You step to the side to give him access to the door, and when he stands right next to you, you can smell his cologne, sophisticated and with a hint of bergamot.

He eyes you, just as drunk as you are.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Late night. You?"

"Same." He looks so tired when he says it, but you can tell that there is a dimple aching to appear in his cheek. His face, bleary though it is, is handsome, and looks like it was made for smiling.

"What is it you do again?" you ask. You've exchanged pleasantries with him when he first moved in, but you never had the time or mental capacity to actually remember who he is.

"FBI, I investigate art theft."

"Ah, right." Yeah, that's it, something so unusual and random that one couldn't make it up. Then again, D.C. is full of people who do stuff you only hear about in movies.

"Marcus," he offers his hand, and you take it, and give him your name.

"And what is it that you do?"

"Law. I work with government contracts and related investigations at a law firm here in D.C."

"Sounds complicated."

You shrug. "I'm smart enough."

"You look good, too."

You scoff. "Are you coming on to me?"

"I'm trying." Now the smile breaks through, lighting up his whole face. Gods, but he's cute.

"Okay." You make the decision quickly, nodding at his door. "Looks like I picked the right door, after all."

Marcus unlocks the door and opens it for you.

His head is pounding, and his mouth is dry when he wakes up. For a moment, he doesn't know what day it is, what he's supposed to do, or what happened last night, but then the flashbacks start to put things together. The flirty neighbor. Her naked skin. Her alcohol-fuming kisses.

He turns his head and sees you, still asleep next to him. Oh, okay.

Sitting up slowly, he gets his bearings before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Clothes are strewn over the floor. Right next to the bed is a used condom, tied up and looking sad and abandoned. Okay, good, at least he remembered to use protection. He picks it up and takes it to the bathroom, where he disposes of it before washing his hands and face.

He hears the rustle of bedsheets, and returns to the bedroom, realizing that he's naked. You might not want to be greeted by a naked stranger first thing. Looking around for his underwear, he's nevertheless too slow in finding them: you're already sitting up and rubbing your forehead.

He clears his throat. "Good morning."

Your smile is a little lopsided. "Morning."

"You want breakfast?" Marcus immediately offers, wanting to do the gentlemanly thing before he sends you off so that he can take about ten aspirins, and go to work. "And I'll put out a clean towel for you so that you can use the shower."

"Appreciate it, but I live right next door," you point out as you get out of bed. You're as naked as he is, and Marcus tries very hard not to ogle your body for what he suspects will be the last time.

"I don't mind."

"Thanks, but I have to get to work." You pick up and put on your panties, bra, skirt, shirt. Marcus spots his boxer briefs, and pulls them on.

"Okay, well... I had a good time."

"I did too."

Now you're standing right in front of him, buttoning up your silk shirt. Even with your makeup smudged out, and terrible morning breath, you look really nice.

"I gotta ask you something, though, because my memory is a little... hazy." Your cheekbones seem to glow, and he realizes that you're blushing.

"Yeah?"

"I sucked your dick, didn't I?"

Marcus feels the heat rise to his ears. "Um... well... yes, you did."

"Well?"

"What?"

"Did I do it well?"

"I think so."

You grin at him. "You don't remember much either, do you?"

"It was all consensual, if that's what you're asking."

"Oh, I have no doubt about that." You surprise him by placing your hand on his naked chest. His heart skips a beat, and he hopes that you won't notice.

"I really have to go, but maybe I'll see you again soon?" you ask softly, and Marcus finds himself relaxing.

"I'd like that."

You even kiss him good-bye, a quick, closed-mouth peck to keep morning breaths from mixing, before you grab your shoes, your purse (muttering under your breath about several emails, and two missed calls), and head over next door.

Marcus, still only wearing his underwear, looks thoughtfully at the closed door for a long while before going into the kitchen with the too big table to make coffee.

Work occupies most of your waking hours, six days a week, often seven. You don't see Marcus again for weeks, don't hear any sounds from his apartment during the hours you're home and awake. Barely having time to think about him, your thoughts nevertheless stray to him when you're standing in the shower or going to bed at night. You haven't been able to fit a boyfriend into your life in a long time, and casual hook-ups have rarely left you satisfied, but even with your hazy memories of the night with Marcus, you left his apartment that morning with a feeling that it was good. So that's where your thoughts go when you touch yourself, the few times you have the energy to do so.

One Friday night, after a long but satisfying week that ended with a contract being accepted as it was, which meant you could have a weekend with only a couple of hours of work from home, you're hurrying home with Chinese takeout in a bag. Looking forward to a quiet night in front of the TV, with an early morning at the gym the following day, you run into Marcus on your way into your apartment building.

"Hi," you smile, immediately noticing how he seems to square his shoulders when he sees you. "Going out?"

"Yeah," he nods, moving his weight from one foot to the other as he takes in your food bag. "And you're staying in?"

"Finally, a Friday night without work," you acknowledge. Marcus's smile lets you know that he knows about that all too well.

"Enjoy."

"You too, you going somewhere nice?"

"No, I mean... I'm just going by myself."

There is something so despondent about the way he averts his eyes when confessing to going out alone. You're not in a position to start saving people, but you see an opening here.

"Join me for dinner instead, Marcus."

"I don't want to bother you."

"It's no bother," you shake your head, now moving towards the elevator while beckoning him to follow you. "Come on, before the food gets cold. There's enough here for two, I always buy extra."

He hesitates for only a split second, you can see it in how his body seems to pull him away, out to some sad bar with too much to drink. Instead, he nods, smiles softly, and follows you. He insists on bringing a bottle of wine from his place, and you accept.

You find out more about him that night, as you share your takeout with him, and he shares his wine. He tells you of heartache, only summarily, clearly not wanting you to feel sorry for him, but you can tell that he's been torn up about the "amicable" break-up. He also mentions that he's been married, and you wonder what's wrong with him. He seems perfectly nice and normal, why hasn't he been able to keep a woman? To his credit, he never complains about nice guys finishing last, only states that maybe he's meant to focus on his career.

"There's a lot to be said about having a good career," you agree. Marcus sips his wine with a small smile.

"Work doesn't break your heart."

"That, too."

"I take it you don't have a partner who'll suddenly come home to find me in his kitchen?" he jokes lightly, but you recognize the question for what it is: he wants to know if you're Seeing Anyone.

"Not one for relationships," you shrug.

"You don't long for anyone to snuggle up with in front of the TV on a Friday night?"

"I don't have time. And they never seem to understand that. Or they're working, too." You pick at the scraps in your takeout box with the chopsticks. "And I seem to attract douchebags. Dunno if it comes with the field in which I work. I always seem to go out with terrible lawyer guys."

Marcus chuckles. "Their loss."

"I miss having sex, though." You look him in the eye, and his tongue slides over his lower lip, catching some runaway sauce.

"Yeah?"

You nod, and feel your cheeks heat up. You're a no-nonsense person, but not always this forward with men. But it's easy with Marcus. He takes it all in stride, doesn't seem to think you're aggressive, or slutty, he just smiles and tells you that he misses sex too.

"But what we had was okay, though?" he adds. "Even if neither one of us seems to remember it that well."

"It was," you agree, raising the glass to your lips and draining the rest of the wine. After putting it back down, you tilt your head and bite your lower lip.

"You wanna do it again? Now that we're sober and all?"

"I'm a little tipsy," he warns you with a chuckle, "But I'm in."

Both of you get up at the same time, chairs scraping the floor simultaneously in the kitchen that mirrors his own but has a table that fits it. All of your apartment just fits in a way his half-assed dwelling doesn't. He realizes that it's because your apartment is a home, decorated and lived-in, warm colors and fabrics, Scandinavian wallpapers in bold but tasteful patterns that he himself would never consider but that feel right here.

You step up to him, snugly fitting yourself to his frame, and place your hands on his narrow hips as you kiss him. The two glasses of wine that you've had have laid a warm, cozy blanket over your busy mind, and now you're fully focused on Marcus, whose soft, plump lips are meeting yours as his arms go around your waist.

You make your way to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes as you kiss and get undressed, get undressed and kiss. The bed in unmade, you just threw the covers to the side when you got up this morning. Wearing only your underwear, you lay down, pull Marcus over you, rake your fingers through his hair, moan when he palms your plump tits through the bra.

"Tell me what you like," he asks you hoarsely. You hum when he scatters kisses along the lace trim of your bra.

"That's a good start."

He hums back as he pops your tits out of your bra and lick around the nipples.

"Go on," he asks, and a shiver runs down your spine at the low barytone of his voice. You reach around to unhook your bra, and Marcus takes it off you and flings it to the side before burying his face between your breasts.

"You eat pussy?" you ask him breathlessly, and he looks up at you.

"Of course."

"Not everybody does," you wink, and he shakes his head.

"Their loss."

He's in a hurry, you note, but it's endearing in an unexpected way. When he pulls down your panties and gets settled, your legs over his shoulders, you remember to give him a warning.

"I, uh, I don't orgasm from oral, just so you know."

"Really?" His breath is hot against your folds, but he's looking up at you with attentive eyes.

"Yeah. It's not a comment on your skills, I just need you to know it," you shrug, accustomed to always having to tread carefully around the matter. Too many men get offended or take it as a challenge.

"Thanks for telling me," Marcus smiles in a way that's way too innocent and adorable for a man who's got his face inches away from your pussy. "But do you really want me to...?"

"Oh God, yes!" you reassure him. "I enjoy it a lot, and it gets me wet. I just can't cum, I need vaginal stimulation for that."

"You got it," he pats your thigh lightly before his tongue connects with your folds, and your eyes fall shut as you hand yourself over to the pleasure, to Marcus's deftly dancing tongue. He's good, he's attentive and eager, yet you don't get the feeling that he's trying to prove you wrong, to make you orgasm. Lord knows men have tries that in the past, and it's just stressful. No, he just seems to enjoy your moans, the way you writhe and grab his hands, the twitches of your pelvis when he does something extraordinary.

"Goddddd, Marcus, that's so fucking good..." you wail when he alternates between sucking your clit and licking it with a quick tongue. He's getting louder, sloppier, and you know you're dripping. Your clit is throbbing, and you know this is the perfect time to speed things up. You push him away, your thighs closing around his head, and Marcus retreats, chin glistening as he licks his lips.

"You okay?" he wants to know. You nod, breathless and with a pounding heart.

"Need to fuck you."

He scrambles up for a deep kiss, wet and lewd, before you push him over to get a condom from your nightstand. He drapes himself over you as you stretch across the bed, and peppers your back with kisses, like he's unable to stay away from you. You roll around, finding yourself caged between his strong arms, and you pull him down for more kissing with lips swollen and dry but still wanting more.

"How do you want me?" he gasps between the kisses as you pull down his underwear and paw at his small butt.

"Can I be on top?"

He rolls over onto his back immediately, watching you with open-mouth excitement when you remove his shorts and put on the rubber. When you finally sink down on his length, his fingers dig into your thighs as his breath hitches.

"Oh, that feels good..."

"Uh-huh," you sigh, staying still for a moment to adjust to his cock inside of you. You smile inwardly as you find yourself thinking about just how perfectly sized it is: thick but not too long.

"What?"

Your eyes open to find Marcus grinning at you.

"What what?" you grin back. He caresses your hips slowly.

"You looked like you had something to say."

"I was just thinking about what a perfect, gorgeous dick you have."

His cheeks turn pink. "Thank you. It came with the body."

You chuckle and start a slow grind, hips moving lazily back and forth as you seek out the right spots, the right rhythm. Finding it, you plant your hands on Marcus's chest and let out a low moan as you go slightly faster.

"That right for you?" he huffs, sitting up to catch a nipple in his mouth.

"Mmmfuckyes..."

You drop your hand to where your bodies meet, fingers seeking out your clit. Pleasure zaps through your body when you rub it, and you clench tightly around Marcus, causing him to dig his fingers into the soft flesh of your hips, both of you groaning.

"So good," he gripes, soothing the sting of his fingertips by rubbing his palms over the affected areas before he moves his fingers to your front. "Need a hand?"

"'m good," you gasp, your free arm slinging around his neck. You clench around him again, and Marcus's hips jut upwards, slamming into you with a force that makes you choke.

"Fuck! God, Marcus, that was..."

"Can we try something?" he pants, pulling you in for a kiss. "Please?"

"Okay?" you frown, a little frustrated at being interrupted, but Marcus gestures for you to rise, so you do as he asks, and let him pull you down with him.

"Get on top of me again, but lie down," he instructs you. You must look doubtful because he immediately adds:

"Just try it, if you don't like it, we can go back to what you were doing."

"I'll try anything once," you shrug, and get on top of him again, this time with your back turned to him. Marcus pulls you down, positioning you on top of him, legs spread, his own legs on the outside of yours. You hesitate for a second, the reality of your weight sometimes haunting your mind, but Marcus insists.

"Just come here, baby," he tells you softly, so you let him take your weight. One of his arms sneaks up the side of your ribcage to cup a breast. With the other, he guides himself into you, pushing himself in with an upward thrust of his hips. You choke on your breath and let your head hang back on his shoulder, one arm seeking a position to support you, the other coming around Marcus's neck when he presses a toothy kiss to your neck. He thrusts into you again, fingers playing with your nipple, and then his other hand comes to rub your clit.

You keen at the sudden intensity, back arching on top of him, and he plants his feet more firmly on the mattress.

"Fuck," you gasp, "that's good, Marcus, this is good..."

He sucks a kiss to your neck, his teeth stinging just a little, and your legs kick in search of a hold so that you can stay just above him. He slips out, and you whimper.

"Relax," he soothes you, thumb abandoning your clit to instead guide himself back into you. "Put your weight on me, I can take it."

You follow his instructions, back sinking down onto his chest and stomach, pelvis angling slightly to help him stay inside you. His fingers return to tease your clit, and your head falls back onto his shoulder as he settles into a rhythm that makes your toes curl.

"That's it," he praises you, his breath hot against your ear. "Just like that, take it, just enjoy it, let me take care of you."

The slow drag of his cock against your slick walls is maddening in how it pushes at your spot but leaves you wanting more. You buck your hips down eagerly.

"Faster, please, Marcus."

He obeys immediately, moaning at how you immediately clench around him. Your fingers thread through his hair, the other hand fists into the sheets. The pressure on that one spot inside you is growing in intensity, insanely, perfectly, knocking your breath out with each jab of Marcus's cock against it. Your moans become whimpers, a moan too complex a sound for you at this point, when you are so close, so utterly close to the climax that you now need as much as you need air -

The release floods your body and your cunt, and for a split second you're horrified at the wet feeling on your thighs, the rippling sound, until you realize that you squirted. A half moan, half giggle escapes you as you press your thighs together as if to lock in the orgasm that pulsates through your cunt and lower belly. Marcus gasps an excited Fuck, yes before bucking up a couple of errant times, and then relaxing down. He kisses your temple, drags his soaked fingers up over your soft belly, making you squirm.

"Sorry," he murmurs throatily. You murmur something back and slide down next to him. Everything between your legs seems wet and now cold, but you're still prickling all over with excitement.

Marcus heaves a deep sigh before turning his face to you. "That was so hot."

"I didn't know I could do that with a man."

"You haven't before?"

You shake your head. Marcus smiles softly.

"I'm honored. Was it good?"

"Yeah. How about you?"

"So fucking good."

You smile back at him before turning your face back towards the ceiling, and taking a deep breath that you sigh out audibly. Your body relaxes quickly, a muscle in your lower back mutters about the position you just were in, but you feel extremely good, and wrung out in a fantastic way. In the corner of your eye, you catch Marcus taking the condom off, before getting up to take it to the trash. When he returns, he looks around, looking for his clothes. You roll over onto your side.

"You don't have to leave, you know," you tell him quietly. Marcus stops, boxers in hand.

"Yeah?"

"I mean... don't get me wrong, I'm not looking for a relationship," you hurry to assure him. "But I wouldn't mind you staying over. Unless you have plans?"

"I don't."

He drops the boxers, and slides back into bed, next to you. You smile a little wryly.

"The sheets are wet. I'll change them, feel free to grab a shower.

"Soon," Marcus tells you, low voice heavy with a calm confidence. "I suggest we wet them a little more first."

Your deal with Marcus is simple and beautiful: sex, with or without staying the night. The occasional take-out dinner. Quickies when you run into each other in the corridor outside your front doors, with ten minutes to spare. It's undemanding, friendly, mutually satisfying. Uncomplicated, with no romantic feelings involved, so nobody can get hurt.

Marcus is an active lover who smoothly takes charge. Not bossy, but firm and empathic, and not afraid of using aids of different kinds to raise your orgasms to the next level. He's not opposed to fucking you fully clothed in the morning and leaving you wanting as you go to work with his cold cum in your panties, shot there after he removed the rubber after fucking you.

It is, in short, the perfect set-up.

Fall passes by, and you see yourself forced to fly out to see your family over Thanksgiving. You spend as much time as you can working in your childhood room, however. Your parents do not understand your choice of profession, your mother does not see how a woman of your age has chosen to be childless. Your older brother knocked his girlfriend up at sixteen, your younger sister was married at eighteen and divorced at twenty-eight. You love them, but you don't have a lot in common with them, and even if your siblings at least pretend to understand your life choices, their contempt steeped in jealousy of your life shines through at times. Your parents choose to simply ignore the life you have built for yourself in D.C., talking instead about Mrs. McCall next door, Annie down the street, Cybil in town, Kearney at the gas station, as if you knew any of them or cared about what they said about Kayleigh's twins.

You endure for two nights, and text Marcus from the airport, before boarding: I'll be home after nine tonight. You free?

He replies almost immediately: I'll pick you up at the airport.

You text him the flight number before turning off your phone, settling for a three-hour nap in lieu of working.

When you finally land, puffy-faced but breathing freely now that you're back in the city you call home, Marcus is waiting for you in arrivals. The way his smile lights up his eyes when he sees you makes your heart miss a beat. There is something there that's beyond what the two of you have, something much more sincere.

You shake it off and smile back as you walk up to him. He leans forward, like he's about to kiss you, but ends up giving you an awkward half-hug.

"Welcome home."

"Thanks. And thank you for picking me up."

"My pleasure."

The two of you turn and start walking towards the exit. Marcus offers to take your carry-on wheelie bag, but you decline, accustomed as you are to carrying your own luggage yourself.

In the car, he asks you how your Thanksgiving was.

"As holidays at my parents' usually are. One night would've been enough."

"That bad, huh?"

"Yeah. It's just..." You rub your forehead. "Whenever I visit, I feel trapped. Everything back home is... small. People are kind, yes, but they're small-minded. The town is small. The spaces in which to move, physically and mentally, are small. And I feel like some kind of big city snob who comes to visit twice a year, scoffs at their very ordinary and, as far as I know, happy lives, and then flies back to my vegan frappuccinos and twenty-four-hour sushi restaurants."

Marcus chuckles low. "I think I know what you mean. But it's hard for me to imagine that you'd be a snob about anything."

"I probably am. But I... I don't know, I outgrew that town when I was fifteen. Couldn't get out fast enough. And I don't like going back."

"Does your family support your choices?"

You shrug. "Yes and no. Mom and dad are proud, I guess, but at the same time they don't have any idea what it is that I do. 'If you wanted to be a lawyer, couldn't you be one here? Where it's not as stressful and you could start a family, and work normal hours?' As if I could practice the law I'm interested in over there."

"What's the most common type of lawyer in your hometown?"

"General practitioners who do a little bit of everything, wills mostly. And there are three, I think."

"Wow."

"Exactly."

The conversation turns to other subjects as Marcus drives the two of you to your apartment building. As he parks in his spot in the underground garage, you place your hand onto his thigh. He turns off the engine and looks at you.

"Thanks for picking me up," you tell him quietly. His hand comes to rest on top of yours.

"No problem."

"You have any plans for tonight?"

He shakes his head, then leans forward over the middle console as you reach across the same for a kiss. His fingers thread into your hair before closing around the back of your head to bring you in, and you sigh softly against his lips as you feel the rest of the pressure from your Thanksgiving visit melt away. If the town you grew up in felt unfamiliar and uncomfortable, D.C. and Marcus feel like home. And there's nothing you want to do more now than be with Marcus in this city.

You break the kiss and lower your gaze to his fly, where your fingers are already working on unzipping him. Marcus exhales in an audible sigh.

"You missed me that much?"

"Don't get any ideas," you warn him before bowing down over his lap.

Later, when you are freshly showered, and lying awake in Marcus's bed with him deeply asleep next to you, you wonder when his presence at night became such a comfort for you.

Marcus visits his parents over Christmas. You manage to convince yours that you're way too busy and the holidays too short for you to fly out. Settling in for a couple of days off work, you plan to go to the gym, meet friends, and maybe finally get through that book you started three months ago. You plan for simple yet delicious meals and come home with bags full of groceries and bottles of wine that you balance in your arms as you're digging for the keys in your pocket.

"Lemme get that."

Marcus appears by your side, taking a grocery bag from you.

"Thanks."

You manage to let yourself in, and Marcus follows you to the kitchen, where he leaves the bag on the table.

"Hi," he smiles. There is something so endearing about this man, his smile lights up the whole room, you can't possibly keep from smiling back at him.

"Hi. I thought you already left for the airport?"

"Just on my way now. Glad I caught you."

"Oh?" You unbutton your coat, unwrap the scarf from around your neck. "What's up?"

"Just... I wanted to see you before I left. Wish you happy holidays."

"Right." You take off your coat and leave it over the back of a kitchen chair. "Well... happy holidays, Marcus. I hope you have a nice weekend with your parents."

"Thanks." He clears his throat, looks down and scratches the back of his head. "Do you have any plans for New Year’s Eve?"

"Not that I know of."

"Do you maybe... want to do something?"

"Sure," you nod, a warmth spreading in your belly. "Like, dinner?"

"I was thinking Hirschhorn? You said you were curious about their special exhibit. Then dinner, and maybe a movie, if you're not opposed to spending so much time with me at once?"

You feel your cheeks heat up a little. "I don't mind at all. That sounds lovely."

His smile widens, his warm eyes glitter. "Great. I'll get back to you as soon as I return."

He kisses your cheek before leaving, his hand resting momentarily on your arm. When he closes the door behind him, the apartment feels empty.

That emptiness stays with you over the holidays. You're enjoying the time off, yes, and downright cherish not having to spend time with your family. You were looking forward to Christmas eve drinks with a couple of friends but are disappointed when they only talk about holiday preparations, gift shopping, and visiting in-laws. The detachment makes you annoyed. It's not that you want that kind of life, you don't want kids and a house and Thanksgiving dinners and all of that. But there doesn't seem to be any alternatives. You get the feeling that they feel sorry for you, that they think you should look up from your laptop once in a while, go dating, settle down, maybe work less.

Always work less. You love your job so much, maybe you won’t forever, but right now you do, and it doesn’t feel taxing when it gives you the gratification it does.

You grab a cab home, earlier than you thought and morose for not getting the carefree night you had planned for. Maybe it's your own fault for thinking that people with families wouldn't have changed.

You weigh your phone in your hand for a couple of blocks before texting Marcus.

Hope you're having a better time than I am. Just getting home after drinks, and realized I have nothing in common with my friends anymore :/

You regret the text as soon as you've sent it. It sounds whiny, and you know that you're being unfair to your friends. But Marcus replies almost immediately:

Sorry to hear that. Wish I was there to make you feel better.

You smile, and your heart skips a beat. He always knows what to say.

It is what it is. Early night for me.

He replies with a Santa emoji that makes you chuckle.

Too old for Santa, you type back. Or too naughty. Either way, he's not coming.

Only man who should come in your apartment is me ;)

You stare at the message, cheeks heating as you lick your lips. Your brain scrambles for an answer to match his tone.

I'll be the judge of that, mister. If you're away for too long, I might get lonely.

The reply comes almost immediately.

I'll be back before you know it.

Your heart is fluttering like a butterfly inside your ribcage, and you react with a thumb up to the last message. For the rest of the cab ride, you're chewing on your lower lip while looking out the window, decorated windows racing past you as the cab driver navigates towards your apartment building.

You fall asleep in front of the TV and are awakened by a text.

You up?

You rub your eyes, realize that you're still wearing makeup, and curse low.

It's two am.

Marcus's name immediately lights up on the phone, and you answer the call.

"What's up?"

"Sorry to wake you."

"That's fine, I was on the couch. Gotta schlep my ass to bed," you yawn as you turn off the TV, and stand up, scratching your head.

"I'm outside."

"What?"

"I'm outside your door."

You frown, trying to understand what he's saying. "What are you doing there?"

"Just open?"

Call still active and phone held to your ear, you walk over to the front door, and unlock it. And there Marcus is, holding his phone but lowering his hand and ending the call while smiling wryly at you.

"Hi."

"What... why aren't you at your parents'?" you stutter, still holding the phone like you're talking to him through it.

"Because I can't do this at my parents'." He steps up to you, cups your cheek, and brings his lips to yours. His face is cold, so you understand that he has just arrived from the airport. Your sleep-riddled brain still doesn't understand, and Marcus breaks the kiss, breathing softly against your lips before drawing back.

"Did I... fuck this up now?"

You lick your lips and realize that you're feeling calm and steady in a way you no longer do when he's not around. You grab him by the jacket lapel and pull him in through the door.

"No," you reply, a shiver running through you when he puts his arms around you. "No, you did just the right thing."

You don't use your tub as often as you would like to, yet it was one of the main reasons why you bought your apartment. It's spacious, has gorgeous vintage style brass faucets, and is placed by the window, from which you can see the park, now wearing a white winter coat of snow, on the other side of the street. The shower booth is at the back wall of the bathroom and your busy lifestyle has you favoring quick showers instead of long, luxurious baths.

Now, however, you're stretched out languidly in Marcus's arms, the back of your head on his shoulder, his hairy thighs pressing up against you on either side. The water is hot and scented with oils, and if the orgasms you had before getting out of bed hadn't relaxed you, this would definitely take away the last vestiges of stress knotting your muscles.

"This is a really nice tub," Marcus mumbles into your ear, his hand running up the inside of your arm, resting on the edge of the tub. "Wish I had one."

"You're welcome to use mine," you smile, just as his hand disappears into the water, finding your breast and cupping it, thumb lazily stroking the nipple.

"I like your apartment better anyway," he admits. "Mine doesn't feel like a home."

"That's just because you haven't unpacked."

He raises his shoulders in a shrug. "Been busy."

"Doesn't help much that you're fucking me every time you're off work."

“One could even say it’s your fault I haven’t unpacked,” he muses, lips touching your temple. You shake your head, hand finding his and leading it away from your breast.

“Nuh-uh, you don’t get to pin this on me.” There is no vehemence in your voice, and even if Marcus can’t see your face, he can plainly hear the smile threatening to break out.

“I had to try.”

You bring your hand back to your chest, and sigh when his fingers brush over your nipple. It would be so easy to just let things slide, enjoy his hands, his mouth, his cock that’s resting softly against your lower back… But your interest is piqued.

“Why haven’t you unpacked, Marcus?” you ask quietly. “I’ve seen that you have painting just waiting to be hung on the walls and given how much you like to criticize my dentist’s office artwork from Ikea, I can’t imagine why you haven’t done more to decorate your apartment.”

His hand stills, and you feel him swallow. He clears his throat, sighs, clearly stalling, but you don’t show mercy. You want to know.

“I guess… I thought I’d be making a home with someone. And when that didn’t happen, I didn’t like the idea anymore.”

You braid your fingers with his, the water gently rippling with your movement.

“Your ex?”

“Yeah. Teresa.”

“What happened?” He’s mentioned some tragic breakup but never specified, and you’ve never asked. Now, however, you’re asking. You want this puzzle piece to fit right, want to know everything there is to know about Marcus Pike.

“I don’t want to burden you with that…”

“I want to know, Marcus.”

He hesitates, but eventually tells you how his ex, a smart, beautiful woman that he fell head over heels for and eventually proposed to, accepted his proposal over the phone but called again thirty minutes later to tell him that she was leaving him for a coworker. Marcus had been transferred to D.C., had asked Teresa to come with, had a plan for a life together, and she turned out to be in love with a coworker: a charming, unreliable man who worked out an elaborate scheme to make her choose him instead of Marcus.

You’re shocked to silence when he stops talking, an array of emotions simmering inside you. When Marcus speaks your name, the first one to burst is anger.

“What a cunt!”

Marcus sputters your name, but you don’t feel bad.

“You know I’m right!”

“No need for language like that,” he protests, but you can sense a change in him. It’s like something’s loosened in him. Even if you can’t see his face in this position, you can feel it in how his body feels against yours.

“I’m sorry, but that behavior is despicable. And from what you’ve told me about that asshole that she went with because of you, I’d say they deserve each other.”

He shrugs. “Or maybe I was too pushy. We didn’t date for long before I asked her to marry me. I should’ve given her more time.”

You turn around in his arms so that you can meet his flickering gaze. Raising your hand to his cheek, you caress the slightly scratchy surface that sorely needs a razor.

“If it feels right, it feels right,” you tell him softly. “There’s no shame in being open and honest about your feelings, Marcus.”

He blinks, and for a second you think his eyes look shiny. His lower jaw moves as he swallows.

“Thank you,” he eventually mumbles. “I don’t want to sound like I’m making excuses but… I did feel I was being straight with her. And she… really fucking hurt me.”

“Yeah, she did.”

His stare is suddenly relentless.

“Will you? Hurt me, I mean?”

You feel nothing but calm. “Marcus, I like you a lot. This is more than just sex now. But I won’t marry you in six months, and I don’t need you to have a plan for us. I like my job, I have a good career that I won’t give up. I don’t want kids, but I like being with you, and I want to keep being with you, not just have sex but do other stuff with you.”

He smiles at that and casts his eyes down. You lean forward to press a small kiss to his lips.

“And I will help you to unpack your shit, and I will come with you to get a new kitchen table tomorrow when the stores open. Because that huge monster you have jamming up your kitchen has got to go.”

“Not tomorrow,” he immediately tells you, and you quirk an eyebrow. “Because tomorrow I’m taking you to the museum, out for a meal, and then we’re watching Casablanca.”

You chuckle. “It’s a deal.”

He pulls you in for a deeper kiss, water splashing when his arms go around you.

“For the record,” he murmurs against your lips, “I like you too.”

“That’s a relief,” you smile, before a gasp escapes your lips; Marcus’s hand has slid down your soft stomach to the apex of your thighs, and one finger is slowly circling your clit.

“Open your legs,” he whispers, breath almost scorching your cheek that is already warm from the water and your rising desire. You move around, legs and hips repositioning themselves so that he can cup his big hand over your sex.

“Marcus,” you breathe in a low moan, “I already came twice this morning…”

“And you’ll come a third time,” he promises as he slides a finger inside your warm heat, rolling a nipple between two fingers of his other hand. You curl your arm back and around his neck, seek his lips for more kisses, push down against his hardening cock to make him gasp into your mouth. Thumb on your clit, he adds a second finger to your pussy, fucking you slowly as you exchange moans along with your kisses. Your hips jut upwards when he hits the right spot, and then he stays on it, water splashing over the edges of the tub when he goes increases speed. Your hand dives underneath the surface to find his cock, and a strangled moan travels from Marcus’s mouth to yours when your fingers close around the stiff length. When he slows down, so do you, when he fucks you faster, your hand works him faster.

The climax reaches both of you at the same time, your bodies tightening up, Marcus’s hips jerking up as your thighs clamp shut, cries bouncing off the tiles as you press your bodies together. As silence falls, the water stills and your hearts return to their normal rhythms, and Marcus’s lips are on your temple.

“Fuck, you’re amazing.”

“So are you,” you hum, a ripple of lingering pleasure making your legs twitch. He kisses you again, a light smattering of kisses over your temple, brow, cheekbone, before reaching your mouth. That last kiss is deep and slow, loving, and intimate in a way you haven’t had with him before. It’s unnerving, almost scary, but there is something so comforting about Marcus’s broad-shouldered body underneath you, something that makes you embrace the unknown.

“Happy Christmas, baby.”

The underwhelming meeting with your friends, the flirty texting with Marcus, that feels like weeks ago. But it was only last night, and your world has been thoroughly rocked since then.

“Happy Christmas, Marcus.”

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

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[thesmokingguns]

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Minors dni 18+

“Say it again.” His words came out almost like he was begging, hips rotating as he seated his cock deeper inside my body.

Making love with Izzy was soul filling. I could feel him everywhere, loving me, consuming me.

Completing me.

“Say it again, my treasure. Say it for me.” His husky voice a whispered plea, desperate as he tried to keep himself focused.

We had been making love for the better part of the night. Already the star kissed sky was bowing down to the morning rays of sunlight. Izzy’s shadow a golden glow on the wall as he fitted himself deeper inside of me.

“Please-“

“I’m yours.” I gasped out. “I’m yours. I’m yours. In yours.” My nails dug into his back as I clung to him, riding the waves of my orgasm.

His thighs tensed under me, the feeling of him flooding me as the warmth of his breath caressed my neck, a promise in each soft exhale.

“Always.” He got out. Softly moving me back into the crumbled sheets, sweat stained and dirtied from our coming together. “You’ll always be mine, my treasure.” He promised, kissing my eyelids closed as he moved off me.

I knew when my eyes opened again he would be gone.

The faint scent of him still clinging, the memory of him between my thighs as if he had actually been there and not just the dream.

Izzy hadn’t slept in our bed in three years. Three years since he had gone missing.

Three years of me trying to find him.

Knowing I’d never give him up because our souls were still tethered together.

He had to be somewhere. And I’d find him, being him home and remind him how loved he was.

[foreverwayward]

Hello, Wayward Hearts fans!

Many of you know that I have talked about tweaking the series now that I actually know how to actually write and string together a story. The series has now been renamed to "Supernatural: The Series Rewrite", so keep your eyes peeled for the new masterlist that will be coming out. Please note that a lot will be the same, but I will be making some changes to the storyline, make it a little more cannon, and edit any of the horrible punctuation or writing I had done previously.

I had a hard time tagging a lot of people--I'm sure a bunch of y'all have left or changed your username. If you want to be added or removed from the list, please let me know :)

Sam, Dean, and Riley are back on the road. Chapter 1 will be out this weekend!

Here we go!

Series Taglist: @waywardmoeyy @maraudingmeme @arctusluna @salt-n-burn-em-all @nerd-in-a-galaxy-far-away-blog @becs-bunker @squirrelnotsam @x-waywardaf-x​ @death-unbecomes-you @themoonandotherslikeit​ @wndamaximov​ @flamencodiva​ @aaspiringhero​ @gemini0410​ @love-nakamura​ @klinenovakwinchester @cemmia​ @deans-baby-momma​ @paintballkid711​ @da5haexowin​ @a-manduhhhhh​ @winchestergirl82​ @spnbaby-67​ @sandycub​ @bunnybaby121115​ @erins-culinary-service​ @lauravic @moonxdance​ @knights0fkylo​ @local-anxious-ace​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @wiredandwayward @the-children-of-the-stars​  @rosey1981​ @mylovelydame21​ @titty-teetee​ @walkingchemicalfire​ @saaamsayshi​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @fangirlxwritesx67​ @itsafreakingtouque @teddybeardoctorr​ @janndishsstuff @irelandsharpie​ @dracosassismine​ @accioromancff @shira82828 @lostinwonderland314​ @teresa-67​ @suckmyapplejacks​ @winchestergatina @ravennnnwinch @winchestersistertho @superdoclock42 @imescullen @cra-zy-vib-es1999 @negansnympho89​ @yvonneeeee

[pascalpvnk]

thank you so much and thank you for reading! 😚💕

first few dates

pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x f!afab!reader

summary: a late night grocery trip isn’t usually that exciting, unless you crush a carton of eggs on the cutest man in the store…

word count: 4.3k

warnings: 18+ MDNI, strangers to lovers, swearing, location and ages not specified (imo joel is in his 30s renaissance era), no mention of sarah, sex on first date, insecurity, food & alcohol consumption, reader makes chicken alfredo (so sorry to my restrictive diet baddies, it’s one of the only things I can cook 😞), smut x2 (dubcon due to alcohol consumption but consensual, truck sex, fingering, dirty talk, size kink if you squint, handsy joel, unprotected p in v sex, cream pie)/(reader wears lingerie and a dress, body worship, oral (f receiving), one spank, thigh and butt biting & marks, joel “claiming” reader, allusions to more sex after scene), no use of y/n, half self beta’d, half by @mrsswilliams (thank you pookie ily)

a/n: this is a very self indulgent piece so take it with a grain of salt. don’t perceive the date part please 😭. i hope you enjoy! dividers by @saradika-graphics

masterlist

Fluorescent lights beat against your corneas in the somewhat vacant corner shop. The occasional scanner beep sounded from across the store. You scoured the aisles, ticking off items from your list left and right. The time was flying as your cart piled up and you made record time while shopping.

You picked up a half dozen eggs, opening them to make sure none of them were broken or cracked. Upon the first look, they seemed perfectly fine. You inspected each one individually as you made your way back to your cart. 

You weren’t expecting him at all when you ventured out into the night for a procrastinated grocery trip.

“Oh my god,” you exclaimed as you bumped into something solid, causing clattering chaos. “Shit, shit, I’m so sorry.”

You looked up at what, or rather who, you bumped into. You were met with a shocked man, his puppy brown eyes melting the thick ice protecting your heart. His hand was light on your forearm, steadying yours and his balance. He wasn’t quite able to stop himself from knocking over a bin of DVDs on display.

Your eyes landed on the huge egg yolk stain on his shirt, the eggs that missed splattered on the ground. Of course he was wearing a light colored shirt, just your luck.

Regret showered over you. Not only did you disturb this beautiful stranger, you left a giant stain on his once clean shirt and knocked over a display all over the place.

“You a’right?” He simply asked, knocking the breath out of your lungs with two words. The deep timbre and twang of his voice sent your head in a spiral.

“I’m fine, I’m so sorry,” you repeated, picking up the mess of movies you made. “I should’ve been paying attention.”

“S’alright, accidents happen,” he chuckled, helping you with said mess. Fuck, his eyes were pretty. The corners crinkled with his laughter and the deep chocolate hue his irises held. Everything about him looked so good. And he was unconditionally kind?

You couldn’t feel more embarrassed.

Once everything was picked up and replaced as it was before, he offered you another friendly smile as well as his hand.

“Joel,” he grinned, his hand enveloping yours in a warm handshake. You offered the same sentiment of your name, holding onto his hand for a little too long.

“Well Joel, once again I’m very sorry. I wish I could make it up to you…I kinda ruined your shirt,” you fully cringed at the mess on his light colored Henley…which accentuated his muscles deliciously…but that wasn’t the point.

“I have plenty of stained shirts, darlin’, no need to sweat it. But hey, maybe you could buy me a beer sometime,” he suggested, a bashful expression on his face. A blush bloomed across the apples of his cheeks and on his neck before disappearing down his collar.

Eyes. He can see where your eyes are staring, you reminded yourself.

“Absolutely,” you smiled softly. You swear you saw a twinkle in his eye as his face lit up. “I can’t tonight…but I can give you my number and we can figure something out.”

After exchanging numbers, you parted ways from Joel with a stupid grin on your face. You turned back for a moment to see him, catching his gaze as he was doing the same.

Fuck the dating apps, fuck the set ups. This was your moment, and you were going to take it by the reins and ride off into the sunset.

You almost talked yourself out of it. The day after you bumped into and made a fool of yourself to Joel, he texted you and asked to make plans for Friday. He initiated it. It was so refreshing to be asked out instead of doing the asking for once.

You arrived about ten minutes early, scoping out the pub from your car. It was only seven o’clock, but the sky was pitch black, a couple stars illuminating through the atmosphere. Clouds rolled across the sky, an impending snow storm creeping over you.

A small pickup rolled across the parking lot, stopping in a spot away from the entrance. Right on time. His mop of dark curls appeared first, then his broad shoulders which were impossibly broader with his winter coat. The sound of your car door closing had his head whipping around, a goofy smile plastered on his lips as he made his way over to you with his hands in his pockets. 

“Evenin’,” the southern man grinned. “Hope you weren’t waitin’ here too long.”

Joel greeted you with a welcoming hug, warmth radiating from him even through the bitter cold of the evening. His skin emanated a freshly showered scent, accentuated by the woody aroma of his cologne. It wasn’t overpowering or headache inducing, just perfect. 

He led you two inside the bar with a timid hand on the small of your back and a lopsided grin. Was he nervous too?

“Hey, Miller!” The bartender announced happily as you stepped into the inviting environment. The man caught your eye and gave a small wave, welcoming you two into his tavern.

“How’s it going, Rob?” Joel beamed. “We’re gon’ do two beers. My usual and….”

“I’ll do a Blue Moon,” you stated, smiling politely at the bartender. 

You turned towards the card reader, but Joel slipped his card to Rob to start a tab before you even had a chance to reach for yours.

“Hey!” You laughed, swatting his arm playfully. “It was supposed to be on me for ruining your shirt.”

“Sorry, darlin’. I can’t let a beautiful lady pay on a first date,” he crooned, removing his debit card as it prompted him. “That is…if this is a date.”

Oh that cheeky bastard.

“Yes,” you smiled bashfully, thanking the bartender as he passed over your beverages.

Joel led you to a booth towards the back of the bar and took a seat across from you. It was very evident that both of you were nervous. 

“So,” he started, trailing off of the word and tapping his fingers on the table. God, small talk is the worst.

“I gotta admit, it’s been a while since I’ve gone out so I’m a little rusty,” Joel chuckled, taking a sip from his glass. 

“S’okay, we can figure it out together, huh?” You offered a sweet smile, wanting to break the tension. “Hmm…what’s your favorite movie, and do you think you could star in it?”

Joel huffed a chuckle, tilting his head in thought. 

“Curtis and Viper 2,” he smiled. “But I probably couldn’t star in it. M’not badass like those guys. My only skills are hammerin’ ‘n drinkin’.”

“Aw come on, don’t sell yourself short,” you chuckled. “What do you like to do besides hammering and drinking?”

A couple rounds later, you and Joel were giggling with one another and bumping your shoes under the table. You felt like a bubbly teen again with him, he was already bringing out the best in you. But along with feeling like a bubbly teenager, you also felt like a horny teenager.

His hands were the main culprit, engulfing his beer bottle like it was a baby bottle. His thick digits tapped the table, scratched his beard, mussed up his hair. After the third drink, you couldn’t even pretend you weren’t staring.

“Where’d ya go, hm?” He spoke softly, his amber eyes twinkling under the lowlight above the booth. His skin was flushed from the alcohol. 

“Sorry,” you snickered, looking out the window. “Do you wanna get out of here? It just started snowing.”

Joel turned toward the window, watching the flakes fall from the sky for a moment. He sighed slightly, but you didn’t miss it. You didn’t want this to end either.

He collected the empty bottles and brought them to the bar and closed out, leaving a few bills in the tip jar. The staff waved you both goodnight as Joel slipped your coat back over your shoulders. 

Snowflakes fluttered from the sky, the beginnings of frost coating the vehicles. Your hand was stolen from your side, fingers interlocking with Joel’s as he walked you through the lot.

“You okay to drive?” Concerned laced his brows. You could write an essay about how much of a gentleman he had been. 

“Yeah…but I don’t wanna go yet,” you admitted coyly, stepping in front of him and grabbing his other hand as well. A smirk grew across his lips as you dragged him past your car.

“Where d’ya wanna go, darlin’?”

“Anywhere…or nowhere. As long as you’re there.”

A glint of mischief shined in his eyes as you approached his truck. He slid his hands in your back pockets and pulled you closer to him. 

“Sounds like a bargain to me, baby,” he bit his bottom lip, a smirk playing across it as his cheeks flushed a rosy hue. The fresh snow in his hair created a pretty halo effect, making him look even more beautiful than before. 

Your lips locked in what had started as a gentle, warm kiss that quickly turned passionate and hot. Sparks were flying and teeth were clashing. Joel had you pinned to his truck with his thigh slotted between your legs, hands making themselves at home as he explored over your clothes. A groan emitted from his chest as your hips ground down on his leg and fingers tangled in his curly locks. 

He reluctantly peeled his lips and hands away to dig his keys out of his front pocket. Your lips landed on his neck as he fumbled with his key trying to get it in the lock. Once he succeeded, he opened the driver’s door and folded his seat forward. Before you knew it, you were in his cramped backseat with him as he made quick work of all of the layers you were wearing.

Clothes were thrown anywhere away from you, lips attacking one another hungrily until you were both stripped of everything but your undergarments. His big, rough hands palmed against you, your tits, waist, hips, ass, thighs, anywhere his heart, or rather his cock, desired.

“Fuck wait,” he panted, putting his slightly trembling hands on either side of your face to catch your attention. Your wide, doe eyed expression caused his cock to twitch against your covered cunt. “I don’t have a condom, we-”

“I don’t care,” you sighed, pushing past his barrier to kiss him once more. “I need you.”

A curse and the lord’s name in vain slipped through his swollen pout. He adjusted himself under you as he sat with his back to the door and his legs spread down the expanse of the backseat.

“Wan’ these pretty tits in my mouth while you ride me, pretty girl,” he grumbled, kneading your ass under his giant palms. A pathetic whine escaped you as he used it as leverage to grind your pussy over his lap, your arousal seeping through your panties and spreading over the fabric of his boxers. His hand wrapped under your ass and slipped under your cotton underwear before sliding easily through your soaked folds to your clit. The calluses on his fingertips created a titillating friction.

“So fucking wet for me, darlin’,” he slurred. “Pussy’s begging to be filled, hm? Sure you can take it, beautiful?”

You nodded frantically as your hot breath fanned over his face. The window behind Joel’s head began to fog over as you panted near the glass. 

Hooking his fingers around the fabric, Joel pulled your panties to the side. The winter air pierced your skin, drawing your attention to how much arousal was dripping from you. No man had pulled that much from you, let alone before he even touched your pussy. 

His pointer finger prodded at your entrance as your body slowly welcomed him in. In comparison to your fingers, his were much larger and thicker, slowly stretching you out with each pump.

“Christ, you’re so tight ‘round my fingers, baby. Gonna feel so good on my cock,” he rasped as he added a second finger to the mix. You were tumbling towards your high the moment his thumb found your clit, a string of profanities and ‘pleases’ pouring from you between moans.

“C’mon, come for me,” he grunted. “Take whatcha want.”

His other hand unclipped your bra quickly before he palmed your breast and pinched your peaked nipple between his fingertips. Your head fell back with pleasure, the crown of it brushing against the roof of his truck. Moans and whines poured from you as he worked you over the edge expertly, like he’d known you for years. 

Folding forwards, your sweat slick forehead landed on the cool window beside his head. Your pussy clenched around his fingers, pulling them in deeper as your orgasm convulsed your body.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ love that,” he grumbled into your ear, extending your pleasure with his voice alone. “I’m not done with ya, gorgeous.”

He made quick work of his briefs, exposing his thick shaft. You couldn’t help but gawk at it as you sat against his thighs, resting it on your stomach. It reached up past your belly button. It certainly was proportionate to the rest of him, simply big.

“Still think you can take it, sweet thing?” He purred, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “We can stop.”

Your hand wrapped around his length, pumping it slowly and spreading his precum over the tip.

“I wanna try,” you whispered, resting your forehead against his. His uneven breaths hit your face, Joel encouraging you to continue with a nod. 

“You’re so perfect,” he mumbled, tilting his head up and bumping his nose against yours. His lips met your parted pair with a content hum as you continued stroking him languidly.

“Spit on my cock, baby. Get it nice and ready for you,” he mused, pushing his thumb into your mouth and pressing down on your tongue. Saliva pooled to the front of your mouth. You pursed your lips and let it fall right onto the tip, spreading it down with your palm. His head fell back, thunking the window slightly with a ‘fuck me’.

He placed his right hand on your hip, the other gripping the base of his throbbing length. The exchange should’ve been awkward in the cramped space, but it felt perfect as he swiped the tip through your slick folds. It nudged your entrance, breaching the hole slowly as he let you take the lead. He supported your shaking legs solely with his arm strength, allowing you to ease down slowly. The stretch was a mix of pain and pleasure, enough for you to see stars.

“God, baby,” he panted, snapping you back to reality. “Takin’ my cock so well. Feels so good ‘round me.”

You finally were able to get fully settled down on his lap. His hands roamed once more, setting your skin ablaze as his palms skated on their path. The sensation caused your cunt to flutter around him, squeezing him tight. A groan escaped his throat into your collarbone.

“Can’t fuck you properly if you do that. Gon’ come like a damn teenager,” he huffed with a smile. He kissed you feverishly, gripping your ass as leverage so he could guide you. He pushed and pulled your body against his, back and forth, back and forth. 

Your hands found purchase on his chest, hairs sparsely scattered on the taut skin. You dragged them down his torso with your nails delicately scraping him.

“Christ,” he hummed against your mouth. “Where’ve you been my whole life? So fuckin’ pretty…perfect f’me.”

He shifted the two of you further into the seat, granting you more room to lean down on him. Your hips rose and fell steadily against his, the drag of his heavy cock stimulating spots you didn’t know you had. Each time he bottomed out in you, your clit ground against the patch of curls right on his pubic bone. It was a beautiful dance, as if you’d been lovers in a previous life. His body melded so perfectly with yours, meeting your hips perfectly, holding you perfectly, touching and kissing you oh so perfectly. 

“Lean forward, baby,” Joel panted as he wedged his hands under your thighs. He almost slipped from the warmth of your pussy, but he stopped you right where he wanted you. You buried your face into his shoulder as he buried into your chest, flicking his tongue against the peaked bud of your nipple.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped, letting his lips wrap around the sensitive flesh.

Joel’s thighs tensed as he planted his feet firmly on the seat. His hips pushed up into yours carefully, your hot breath directly fogging the window. Your back arched, head hitting the ceiling and chest right in Joel’s face. His tongue poked out to wet his lips, his jet black irises staring straight at your tits.

Your hand shot up to the window to steady yourself as the speed of his thrusts doubled. What a triple threat he was, pistoning his cock into you, abusing your nipples with his mouth and massaging your clit all at once. The sound of slapping skin and wanton moans filled the rocking truck. You didn’t care if anyone could see or hear, you could only physically care about the man underneath you.

“Joel, m’gonna-” you gasped, his routine faltering as you clenched down on him.

“Fuck, yeah I know, baby. I feel her beggin’. Wan’ you to make a mess f’me,” he hissed between clenched teeth as you whined over him.

Moans were caught in the back of your throat, legs locking up and jaw dropping. With one, two, three more thrusts, your body froze. The only movement came from your fluttering cunt. Bliss completely took over your being as you collapsed against Joel, thighs twitching as you finally found your breath once more.

When you came to your senses, more warmth filled you as Joel came to his. His desperate moans made way to your ears, a breathtaking melody you’d commit crimes to hear again and again.

And you did, without the criminal streak of course.

Each of your following dates ended tangled together, covered in a combination of your own sweat and cum and his own. You were insatiable with this man, as he was with you, christening both his house and your apartment, any surface imaginable.

Around your sixth date, you had something up your sleeve. You had invited him over for a home cooked meal. A silk wrap dress adorned your figure, concealing the prettiest lingerie set you could find while shopping, coincidentally in his favorite color. 

“Hi, baby,” you greeted Joel cheerily as you opened the door. Snowflakes were sprinkled across his shoulders and in his hair. Your arms wrapped up and around his neck, pulling him in for a quick, yet passionate kiss. A couple of snow crystals from his mustache melted against your lips, the cold sensation contrasting greatly from his warm skin.

His face lingered near yours, eyes still closed as he took in the aromas of your apartment. You smelled of a rich, warm vanilla, your living room had an aroma of lavender from your candles, and to top it off, the food you were cooking smelled incredible. You swore you could hear his stomach growling. 

“You look so beautiful, darlin’,” he drawled. “Y’smell good too.”

He slid off his jacket, hanging it up on your coat rack. He toed his shoes off on the mat to keep from tracking snow throughout your apartment. All the while his eyes devoured you shamelessly, even after you turned away to return to your kitchen.

“Whatcha cookin’, baby? Smells amazing,” he hummed.

“Chicken alfredo,” you smiled at him, stirring the sauce as the pasta cooked in the boiling water. You picked up some of the water in a ladle and added it to the creamy goodness in your saucepan before straining the noodles.

“Wanted to keep it simple, can’t go wrong with a classic, hm?” You returned the al dente fettuccine back into the pot, removing it from the burner and turning it off. 

Joel’s thick arms wrapped around your middle as he fit himself behind you. He slotted his head on your shoulder, peppering soft kisses along your exposed neck. His hips pressed against you, his half hard length trapped between you both.

“Are you hard?” You giggled, only seeing his dark tuffs of curls in your peripheral. You knew that you looked good but you had barely touched the man for Christ’s sake. 

“Can’t help it,” he mumbled against your supple skin, deeply inhaling your scent. “Smell jus’ like candy, baby. Need a taste.”

“Joel, what are you-” you’re cut off by the warmth of his hands on your thighs, dragging up your skin, skimming over your garter belt, and taking the skirt of your dress with them. His presence next to you dissipated as he sank to his knees.

“Keep doing your thing, I’ll do mine,” he hummed, sucking in a sharp breath through closed teeth as he took in the lace adorning the swell of your ass. His breath was hot on your rear as his fingers ghosted over your panties, putting light pressure against your clothed clit.

“Joel-” you gasped in pleasure, his ministrations drawing a whine from you. “I can’t cook like this.”

He chuckled at your response to his actions and peeked his head out from under your dress to look you in your eyes, his fingers caressing and skimming over your soft skin. 

“But you like it?” he asked, his voice husking and his eyes full of desire as he looked you over. “You like to know just how much I want you?”

He let his eyes slowly drift up to your face, gazing at you with an air of hunger and excitement as you nodded silently. He was going to be the death of you. 

“You’re so perfect, baby,” he cooed, disappearing once more, planting wet kisses on your ass and sucking your flesh gently as he teased your entrance with his rough middle fingertip. Your grip on the counter surrounding your stove tightened significantly as your head tipped back with pleasure.

His fingers found their way under your panties, hooking into them and pulling them away from your glistening cunt. He dragged his knuckles through your folds a few strokes, stopping at your bundle of nerves to apply just the perfect amount of pressure.

A gasp was caught in your throat, morphing into a strangled moan as he rubbed your pussy and sucked his marks into your skin. 

“Joel-” 

Your impending complaint was cut off with a firm smack to your cheek. He groaned at the rippling flesh, his tongue diving into your slit.

“You gon’ keep complainin’? I can stop,” he muttered, licking against your swollen clit and sucking it between his lips. The only response coming from you were moans and sighs, the sound going straight to Joel’s cock as he continued to lap at your cunt.

“Fuck,” you cried. “Please don’t stop, I need it.”

Joel gripped onto the flesh of your thighs hard enough to leave bruises for the next few days to come. Your back arched, pushing yourself against his face harder. His groans vibrated against your pussy, adding to the multitude of sensations he was giving you. 

The swirling pattern between your lips felt different, felt new, felt so fucking good. 

“Fuck, just like that,” you sighed, gripping your fingers into his curls to anchor him where he belonged. “God don’t stop whatever you’re doing.”

“I’m just claiming what’s mine,” he grumbled as he continued. A moan escaped you in response as you focused on his tongue lapping at your cunt, licking the same pattern over and over again.

J-O-E-L

“Holy shit,” you panted as his tongue dove into your weeping hole, collecting your arousal before continuing his pattern. “Are you spelling your name?”

“Like I said, darlin’, claimin’ what’s mine,” a growl rumbled in his chest as he went right back to work. His palms laid flush against your ass, squeezing your flesh and stretching it up to get a better view and angle of your pussy. The coil in your stomach wound tighter and tighter as he alternated between licking and sucking, squeezing and fucking his first two fingers into your heat.

“I’m s’close, please please plea-” you whined, pushing your ass back onto his face as you chased your high.

Joel’s pace was relentless as he curled his fingers into your g-spot, massaging the spongy tissue precisely while sucking your clit between his tongue. The awaiting release almost sent you forward into the hot burner, but you were just able to catch yourself on the cool edge of the stove. Your body trembled as he worked you through the intense climax, lapping your cum as it seeped from you with a content groan.

“You did s’good for me, baby,” he cooed as he rose from his knees. His beard was shining with your arousal, damn near dripping down his chin. He took your face in his palms and kissed you roughly, making sure your tongue was completely coated with your spend.

The stovetop timer blared, signaling that the chicken was ready to be taken out. Joel reached past you blindly to stop the pestering noise. 

“Dinner can wait,” he panted between kisses, drawing a guttural groan from you as he pulled your bottom lip back between his teeth. His hand traveled south to your neck, not applying pressure.

“But Joel,” you whined, thinking about the time you just spent preparing the meal. You had to admit, he was making it incredibly difficult to even care. “It’s gonna be cold.”

“But nothin’,” he spat, pulling at the tie of your dress and watching it spill open. His thumb creeped up to pull on your chin, forcing your mouth open to him. “You have a microwave for a reason. I have something else to eat in the meantime.”

His eyes ran hungrily over your lingerie. The dark blue and white set contrasted beautifully from your skin, making his cock constrict further against his jeans. He quickly turned off the oven, the burners and took the chicken out before gripping your hand.

He had no problem finding your bedroom. Joel went to sleep full and satisfied that night as did you. 

to stay up to date on when I post fics, follow @pascalpvnk-writes and turn on notifications! i hope you enjoyed <3

[deansdirtylittlesecretsblog]

@cemmia replied to your post “Too Good to Pass Up (An Unassuming Life One Shot)”

Aww so sweet

Thank you!

Too Good to Pass Up (An Unassuming Life One Shot)

[thoughtslikeaminefield]

@cemmia replied to your post “Scream”

So good

Thank you!

[thing-you-do-with-that-thing]

cemmia replied to your post “Ties That Bind - Part 1: At First Sight”

Really liked this.

@cemmina thank you :D

[thesmokingguns]

Joy and Peach: Jackets

Taglist: @ayablackwood @rocknrollsoul76 @greeneyezblackheart @lady-jane3 @rocketgrrrl27 @slutforstradlin @theoutsiders25 @fispapercrafter @bbyamberx @brezeblog @samanthasgone @aggressive-slytherin @clover270 @grayxiu @another-obsessed-with-duff @badfvith @bia003 @queenbae18 @axl-roses-rose @d-ahliaa@beebemarie @guns-n-roses-gal @themoonbelongstome @pinksweetgirl18 @cemmia @bieberhoodforever

There was currently five feet of snow on the ground, enough that when Nikki looked outside he knew he would need to make peach a neon colored hat when she eventually woke up and decided to go play in the snow; she would vanish in the piles.

As if on cue she came barreling down the stairs. Thick socks over her leggings and a hoodie that she was pulling the hood up on. Nikki side stepped as she slid on the floor grabbing the winter boots by the door.

“Peach, wear a hat and gloves.” He was helping her put them on, shaking his head how she was like a puppy dog when it came to snow. He reached for her coat as she tried to duck away from him, “it’s freezing you need to wear a jacket.” But the way she narrowed her eyes, shaking her head made Nikki sigh.

It was going to be a fight.

“Nikki, the snow is still falling and it’s so fluffy and-“ he held up her jacket, the one she had picked out and he had spent too much money on. It was puffy and pink with bows on the elbow. The perfect cutesy look for his girl.

But the cute jacket was too bulky for the girl who wanted to swim in the snow.

“Peach.” She stomped her door, mitten hands balling into fists as she glared. She was going to fight this, “If I go out with you will you wear the fucking jacket?” Her eyes widened.

Nikki notoriously hated the snow. He would watch it, maybe stand out on the deck in it, and sometimes throw a ball to their dogs in it but when Peach would rush out to get drenched he would watch from inside, shaking his head at her energy.

“Promise?” He nodded as she jumped, throwing her arms around Nikki as she peppered surprising kisses on his face, “I love you.” She said as Nikki set her back down.

He always forgot how easily excited his girl was at the easiest of things. As much of a brat as Peach was what she craved above all was his attention.

“Just give me five minutes to get ready.” Nikki nodded as he watched her, blue eyes seeming to shine out as he saw the excitement glowing so bright there.

He would be sore from the snow but his Peach was worth it.

-

“Joy, I did some research for Wyoming.” Peach and Nikki had invited them to spend some time with them and they were planning on driving the few hours to see them once the storm passed tomorrow. “I bought you a jacket.” joy, looked up from where she had been watching TikTok videos to see the traffic cone orange jacket Izzy was holding up.

It was hideous.

“Oh…Izzy, you didn’t have to do that.” Peach was going to cackle when she saw her. Joy could see the way her friend would calm her a traffic cone, see the way she actually looked like it.

But Izzy, looked at it like he had solved a puzzle and was going to be the hero of this trip. His smile so wide as he motioned for her to try on the jacket.

Joy slid her arms into it, being wrapped in the near color that was bright enough that she felt like she needed sunglasses when she wore it. But Izzy was looking at her like she was a diamond, precious and valuable.

“Do you really like it?” The uncertainty in his tone made Joy melt.

Her lips pressed against his, a promise in the kiss as she nodded her head.

“I love how you take such good care of me.”and she did. She loved knowing that he wanted the best for her.

She just needed to let him know in a nice way that it wasn’t through Birkenstocks and dad clothes. But she’d wait another day for that.

[foreverwayward]

ATTENTION “WAYWARD HEARTS” READERS!

Well hello, strangers! It has been quite a while since we last spoke. To say life has been crazy is a vast understatement. 

However, I have been brainstorming over the last few weeks. I am considering redoing the series--keeping the meat of it but tweaking parts of the story and some of my writing/format as when I started, I had never written a series in my life. I’m going to be changing certain plots, the relationships between Riley, Sam and Dean, and a few other things as I’m ready for this series to be more cannon. Now that I know what I’m doing, I want to do this right.

This time, we would be renaming the series to “Supernatural: A Series Rewrite” or maybe “Supernatural: The Winchester & Munroe Chronicles”. I am also up for possible name suggestions. Let’s be honest, I did horribly naming this series lol

I know it’s been a few years since we really got into this story, so if you are in the taglist and have lost interest, let me know and I’ll remove you (or you can remove yourself on the link in my bio)--I will totally understand. Hell, I don’t even know how many of you are even still on Tumblr lol maybe you’ve even changed your name. But, if you’re ready for a somewhat new story with a canonical feel...let me know because I think I’m ready to go for round two.

Let me know what y’all are thinking and if you’re still wanting to be a part of the adventure. I love you all and have missed you like crazy. Here’s to returning to the Supernatural world. 

Taglist: @waywardmoeyy @maraudingmeme @arctusluna @salt-n-burn-em-all @nerd-in-a-galaxy-far-away-blog @becs-bunker @squirrelnotsam @x-waywardaf-x​ @death-unbecomes-you @themoonandotherslikeit​ @wndamaximov​ @flamencodiva​ @aaspiringhero​ @gemini0410​ @love-nakamura​ @klinenovakwinchester @cemmia​ @deans-baby-momma​ @paintballkid711​ @da5haexowin​ @a-manduhhhhh​ @winchestergirl82​ @spnbaby-67​ @sandycub​ @bunnybaby121115​ @erins-culinary-service​ @lauravic @moonxdance​ @knights0fkylo​ @local-anxious-ace​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @wiredandwayward @the-children-of-the-stars​  @rosey1981​ @mylovelydame21​ @titty-teetee​ @walkingchemicalfire​ @saaamsayshi​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @fangirlxwritesx67​ @itsafreakingtouque @teddybeardoctorr​ @janndishsstuff @irelandsharpie​ @dracosassismine​ @accioromancff @shira82828 @lostinwonderland314​ @teresa-67​ @suckmyapplejacks​ @winchestergatina @ravennnnwinch @winchestersistertho @superdoclock42 @imescullen @cra-zy-vib-es1999 @negansnympho89​

[sirowsky]

@cemmia Yeah, this one was a gift. It needed to be as sweet as possible 🫠

Thank you for reading and sharing ❤️

The Bad Day - One Shot

For the person closest to my soul, my wife @lucrezia-thoughts

“Our stories remind us how precious and fragile life can be – and that we must risk our hearts every day to know happiness.” – Luanne Rice

“Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, ‘I will try again tomorrow’.” – Mary Anne Radmacher Fluff Can be read as Gender Neutral Reader (gn!reader) Only warning I can think of is Language. Words: 1525

I hope this helps improve your day, my love.

===================== So, you know those days when everything just goes wrong?

When you can’t walk over a threshold without stubbing your toe, or reach for a doorhandle without almost breaking your finger against it? When you knock the milk or juice-carton over, and think ‘phew, at least the cork was still on’ only to realise the damn carton broke? Every paper you touch tries to murder you, anything remotely heavy just fiddles itself out of your hands, and magically lands on your feet, and even your own brain tricks you by misjudging the distance between your shoulder and the fucking doorway, even though it damn well knows exactly how close is too close?

Yeah – that kinda day.

Those were the days that you wanted to lock yourself in your house and just not step outside, but… well, life… and all that.

When you finally reached your lunch-hour on this particular day of personal doom, you felt sure that every singly toe had to be broken, and there were bandages on three of your fingers already. You were only half-way through your day, and it had the potential to get so much worse before it was over. You contemplated just hiding in a broom-closet until the day was done, but with your current luck, that’d probably just end with you giving yourself a concussion against a shelf or something, in the dark.

You’d taken a seat on a bench outside, hoping that the sun might help your body and mind back into some resemblance of coordination, while you ate. But, of course, that turned out to be a mistake, when the lack of a table meant that you had to hold your plastic lunch box in your lap, which (on a day like this) naturally meant that the damn thing did not remain in your lap. You didn’t even register how it managed to end up bottoms up on the ground by your feet, after just one little bite, and you were so done with this fucking day, you didn’t even care. You just wanted to sit there and cry and feel sorry for yourself until the sun set and this disaster of a day finally ended.

But you were sitting on a bench in a mini-park right outside your office-building, where people were constantly coming and going, and the last thing you wanted was for your co-workers to see you all pathetic like that. You weren’t exactly popular to begin with…

“Here, take this.”

Someone held out a wrapped item to you, and when you looked up you almost choked on your own spit, because the guy handing it to you was Marcus fucking Pike, the guy you’d had a crush on ever since you started at the office. The sweetest guy in the whole damn world – who had no idea you even existed.

“I saw your little accident there, and I figured you could use a pick-me-up.”

“You have no idea… thank you so much.”

You took the offered food and quickly dug into it before a frickin bird snatched it, or something. You’d expected him to walk off, but instead he sat down right next to you, to eat his own wrap, and suddenly you were nervous. You’d wanted to talk to him so many times, even imagined whole scenarios in your mind about how to strike up a conversation with him, each one more ludicrous than the next… And now here he was, and you couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

“By the state of your hands, I’m assuming today is one of those days?”

“You get them too?”

“Everyone does, just in varying degrees of severity.”

“Oh, I don’t have degrees, mine are always the worst they can be.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

Always so sweet…

“Thanks.”

You finished the rest of your meal in silence, and when you were done, he held a hand out for your trash.

“I’ll take it to the bin over there, save you from another thing that can go wrong.”

He winked at you, and scurried over there, dumping the trash before coming right back, with a bit of a mischievous grin on his face. He didn’t sit back down, but held a hand out to you instead.

“Come on.”

“What?”

“Let’s get out of here before anyone sees us.”

“You mean.. skip out on work? I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can, it’s easy. Just get up and walk away.”

“Pike…”

He just smiled wider, keeping his hand held out for you, and in a moment of pure insanity, you took it, letting him pull you to your feet and walk off with you. He led you away from the office buildings and busy streets, all the way to a promenade deck along the waterfront that you hadn’t even known was there before. And he kept holding your hand. Maybe it was just to keep you from falling every time you stumbled, but the way he held it felt like more than that. Unless that was just wishful thinking on your part. Ugh, more than likely. You tried to distract yourself by talking.

“So, do you skip work often?”

“Never have before.”

“No way. You must’ve done…”

“Nope.”

“But… then, why now?”

“Because you looked like you really needed it.”

That made you stop in your tracks, squeezing his hand a little harder and just staring at him in complete disbelief for a few seconds. He didn’t seem fazed at all.

“You bailed on work… for me? W-why would you do that?”

He bowed his head for a few beats, and when he looked up, he had a sheepish little grin on his lips, with that adorable dimple on full display.

“Because I like you. I always have, I just never… knew how to talk to you. You always turn away, keep to yourself, do the work and go home, not much chatter or frivolity. You just seem so… unavailable, I didn’t dare try in case you found it inappropriate.”

Holy hell… but he was too damn sweet.

“A.. are you serious, right now?”

“Very.”

You couldn’t believe this. A whole year you’d been working in the same office as this man, this adorable, kind, sassy, perfect fucking man, not realising that your own insecurity about talking to him was scaring him off.

“I always wanted to talk to you too, I just thought… or, rather convinced myself, that you didn’t even know who I was. I mean, why would you? Aside from being called to the same meetings occasionally, we rarely ever share the same space, and I don’t work directly on your cases.”

“Because you’re interesting. You don’t conform to the ‘normal’ office behaviour. You find ingenious little ways to break policies regarding your appearance, and your desk, so that you’ll feel comfortable in your own skin and space. And even though you mostly stay quiet, whenever you do speak, you’re always well informed and respectful, but also honest. You don’t let people walk all over you just because they think you’re an outsider.”

You had to actually tell yourself to breathe, because you were so shocked you just didn’t function properly right now.

“How do you know all that? When have you had time to notice me at all… I don’t… what am I missing here? I don’t understand any of this..”

He stepped closer. A lot closer, and you froze. He smelled wonderful, and up close like this, his eyes were mesmerising. Deep pools of chocolate beckoning for every ounce of your attention, which they eagerly got, while his free hand found your waist.

“You’re beautiful. That was the first thing I noticed about you. Not just your face, but your soul. Your person. And there’s a kind of grace to you, to the way you move and carry yourself, that I confess I may have spied a little on you in your office, in order to see better. It mostly only comes out when you think no one sees you. And I can see it even on days like these, when everything goes wrong for you.”

A warmth you’d never felt before, spread through your chest and abdomen, making you shiver in the most pleasant way imaginable, and he could see that too. His hand on your waist pulled you closer, while the other let go of your hand, so that he could wrap both arms around you.

“I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

Your knees damn near caved in on you, but this was too good for you to allow your body to screw it up, like it had the rest of the day. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, letting one hand find it’s way to the back of his neck, gently tugging him towards you.

“Please do.”

As his warm, soft lips brushed against yours you thought to yourself that perhaps bad days had a purpose, after all. Perhaps they were meant to make the good moments clearer, more distinguished. After all, what was one good moment next to a hundred others, compared to one good moment, among a hundred bad ones?

THE END

[amanda-teaches]

cemmia replied to your post “Yay! Can't wait for more!”

Love it!

Thank you @cemmia! I’m sorry I can’t tag you (come on, Tumblr!), but I’m so happy you’re still reading.

[winchesterprincessbride]

Whatever It Takes-Part 9

Characters: Alpha! Dean Winchester, Beta! Sam Winchester, Omega! reader, Beta! sister Terri (OC

Part 1        My Master List

Beta’d by the Girl with the Rainbow Tattoo, @kittenofdoomage

I didn’t even look at Dean as we walked to the car. I couldn’t stop seeing that woman with her hand on his arm and her eyes filled with longing.

“Would you stop for a minute? Can we talk about this please?” He asked tersely, reaching out to grab my arm.

I pulled away from him with a sigh.  “Just take me home, Dean.”

He opened his mouth to say something but seemed to change his mind.  I threw open the door and sat down, so overcome with fury and jealousy it was threatening to choke me.  Was this how it was going to be? Dean’s past coming back to haunt me just as we were starting to get comfortable?

“I’m sorry.” He said very quietly. “I wanted this night to be special.”

“You’re never going to be just mine, are you?” I whispered, glancing sideways at him. God, he was so damn pretty! Wait a second…. Where did that come from?  Then I noticed it. That itchy feeling beginning in my stomach, like my skin was getting too tight.  Then the familiar warmth bubbled up in my core, and I bit back a moan.

“Oh no.” I gasped.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Dean asked his voice heavy with concern. He took in a breath, and his nostrils flared. I knew he could smell it.

“Great.  Just great.”  Whatever they had given me at the hospital to suppress my heat had obviously worn off.  Perfect freaking timing, as usual.

We pulled up at my place and I ran from the car, needing to put as much distance between Dean and me as possible. I was already starting to sweat, and I could feel my stomach twisting in knots.

Please, not now!!” I muttered as I threw myself on the couch and curled up into a ball.  

“Dammit, Y/N! Would you stop running from me! We need to talk about this!” Dean had taken off his jacket, and he was breathing heavily as though he had run from the car.  I could tell my heat was starting to affect him.

“She was so desperate, I could see it in her eyes.  How many other Lisas are we going to run into? How many other women are out there who want to lay claim to you?” I jumped off the couch and got right into his face, my heat fueling me with anger and aggression.

He grabbed my arms, holding me against him. “I can’t change the past, Y/N. But I don’t want any of them.  I just want you.”

I jabbed my finger into his chest.  “You’d better be sure Dean. because I don’t share.  It’s all or nothing with me.  I refuse to compete with every Omega you screwed while you were with Alpha4. What’s to stop you getting bored with me and calling one of your old fucks?”

Dean didn’t reply, but I could tell by the dangerous glint in his eyes that I had pushed him too far.  He picked me up and tossed me over his shoulder, carrying me off towards the bedroom.  When he threw me onto the bed and began taking off his shirt. I scrambled into a sitting position, shoving my hair out of my eyes, torn between annoyance and arousal.  “What the hell was that for?”  I demanded.

“It shut you up, didn’t it?” He said with a smirk.

My face softened. “Come here,” I whispered. He climbed onto the bed, leaning into me as I put my arms around him. “I love you, you know that, right?”  I whispered as our lips met in a breathless kiss. I could feel him tremble as his hands slid down my back to cup my ass and pull me against his erection.  

My head was spinning as we shared a hot, open-mouth kiss that was equal parts anger and passion. I had so many conflicting emotions fighting for dominance at the moment, I didn’t know which end was up.

“That dress has to go.” He snapped.  “Get it off or I will.” My nimble fingers made short work of the many buttons on the dress and slipped it from my shoulders, along with my bra and panties. I threw my clothes into the corner, the coolness of the room making me shiver slightly.

Dean’s eyes looked me over possessively as his hand reached out to caress my shoulder.  He loomed in front of me, large and dominating.  That apple-pie scent of him just washed over me, and I could feel the slick smearing against my thighs. My stomach clenched hard, and I whined with need.

“Lay down and let me take care of you, Omega.” He growled in that deep timbre that turned my bones to complete jelly.

I shook my head, holding my hand up against his chest.  “No, YOU lay down.”

His eyes flew to mine, surprised.  “You wanna take the wheel tonight, ‘mega?” He whispered in a husky voice.

I nodded slightly.  “That okay?”

His grin was instant.  “Hell yeah!’ He said with enthusiasm. I pushed against his chest, and his laid down on the bed, his thick cock standing tall and proud.  It made my mouth water. I scrambled into his lap taking his face in my hands and kissing him passionately.  I rocked in his lap my slick allowing the head of his cock to slide through my pussy lips over and over, and he groaned as I teased him.

Pulling my lips from his to take a gasping breath my mouth latched onto one of his nipples and tugged as I continued to grind on him and he almost fell off the bed.  His eyes were closed, and he was moaning softly. His hands came up, tangling in my hair and he spoke, “Need you, Y/N”

I reached down and guided him to my entrance, impaling myself on his hard shaft and I gave a choked cry. I began to work him over, twisting my hips and sliding myself incredibly slow up and down on his cock, and Dean began to shake and curse. He wanted hard and fast, I could tell, but that just made me go agonizingly slower. I wanted him to feel every movement.

“Stop teasing, Y/N.” he warned, his hands coming up to rest on my hips and pull me down, harder and deeper as our hips smacked together.

I looked deep into his eyes as I raised myself up so that just the tip of him remained inside me.  “I  need you to be all in with this, Dean. 100%. I need all the Lisas of the world to know that you are my Alpha and no one else’s.” And with this, I slammed myself down on his cock and began to ride him with a bruising rhythm.

“Dammit!” He swore. “I’m yours, Omega. Always.”

My orgasm was approaching, and I could feel his knot swelling, making it more difficult to ride him. My pussy clamped down on him like a vice, and I started to collapse on his chest with a hoarse scream of pleasure. My lips were very close to his neck, so with a quick twist of my head I leaned into him and sank my teeth into his neck and bit hard until I drew blood.  

His eyes widened in surprise, and he hissed slightly in pain. I ran my tongue over the bite, lapping up the blood, the coppery taste of him filling my mouth.

“Now you’re mine,” I said smugly, blood dripping from the corner of my mouth.  Dean stiffened, and a roar of pleasure escaped his lips, as he came hard, filling me with his hot cum. He quickly pulled me down to him and bit me, his teeth marking me, binding us together forever, and triggering another smaller orgasm for me.  He poured into me for what seemed like forever.

I lay on his chest, small aftershocks running through me, trying to catch my breath.  When I finally had control of myself I slid off and lay down next to him. I didn’t move for a long moment because I was actually afraid to look at him. When I finally turned in his direction, his eyes were warm and he was smiling.  “So this happened,” I whispered with a small grin.

“You taking control like that was incredibly hot, Y/N. I’ve wanted this for so long.” He told me, his hand holding mine.

“Me too,” I whispered back. It just felt right. We fell asleep holding hands, knowing that when we woke up everything would be totally different.

My apartment was bigger and Dean’s lease was almost up, so we decided he would move in with me.  After much arguing and compromising we were able to whittle our stuff down to one home’s worth.  Believe me, it wasn’t easy.  Dean is very attached to his stuff.

Time flew by as he worked long days getting the garage in order, but he always had me to come home to.  Next week Sam is on spring break, and he is coming to visit, and I am finally going to get to meet him, not as Dean’s “friend” from Harvelle’s, but as Dean’s Omega and his mate.

Today is my one-year follow up with the Turner-Singer specialist.  Dean really wanted to be there, but there was some issue at the shop that he had to deal with personally.  “It’s no problem, babe.  Terri said she would go with me.”

“But I’m your Alpha, I should be there.” He said stubbornly, crossing his arms.

I rolled my eyes at him.  “It’s no big deal. I’ve been feeling really good. I haven’t had any further episodes. I promise I’ll tell you everything.  Terri knows my entire history with this.  It will be fine.”

He pulled me to him, and hugged me, kissing the top of my head.  “Call me as soon as you are finished.”

“Yes, Mom. Now go to work!” I laughed, practically pushing him out the door.

He turned in the doorway before leaving. “I mean it, Omega. Call me.  As soon as you are done.”

Terri met me at the office since the hospital was close to her house.  This place brought back very bad memories for me.  They took a bunch of tubes of blood as soon as I got there, and then we sat in the waiting room for what felt like an eternity waiting for the doctor.

“So how are things with you and Dean?” Terri asked.

“Really good. He’s been working a lot.  Sam is coming to visit next week, so he’ll be home for that.”

Terri put her hand on my arm.  “It’s nice to finally see you two in a good place.”

The nurse called my name and we were escorted to the doctor’s office.  It was filled with books and leather and diplomas and just screamed pretension. His bedside manner hadn’t improved. “So Y/N. I ’ve had a look at your labs. Everything looks good, except for one thing. Your HCG came back positive.”

Terri and I looked at each other.  “And that means?”

“You’re pregnant.  Pregnancy is contraindicated for Turner-Singer patients. Given the difficulties you have had in the past, I don’t believe your body will be able to tolerate the hormone changes of pregnancy.  I suggest terminating the pregnancy right away.  Have you been using birth control?”

“Yes,” I said immediately. “Well, there was one time, maybe two. But I wasn’t really worried about it because I was told a few years ago I most likely couldn’t have children.  I had some gynecological issues when I was younger……” My voice trailed off.

“You didn’t tell me any of this!” Terri snapped.  She was right. I didn’t want her to feel sorry for me, so I hadn’t shared this with anyone. After Dean’s rut, I’d angrily told him I could have gotten pregnant because we didn’t use anything.  I said it more to hurt him than because I’d actually believed I could be pregnant. I still felt guilty about that.

“Thanks, but no,”  I said suddenly.

“Excuse me?” The doctor said, confused.

“I said no. I am not terminating this pregnancy.”

“Ms. Y/L/N….” The doctor began in a condescending voice.

“What she means is she needs to discuss this with her Alpha,” Terri said, glaring at me as she grabbed my arm and pulled me out of my chair.

“I want to see you back next week. The sooner we terminate, the better.” The doctor said, shuffling his papers.  I was clearly being dismissed.

“What are you going to tell Dean?” Terri asked me as soon as we were in the hallway.

I just stared at her, because I had absolutely no idea.

Part 10

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[pedroscurls]

albicelestezzz replied to your photoset “Title: The Bachelor Party Character(s): Negan x Reader x Simon....”

Can you write one shot with Simon please������

cemmia replied to your photoset “Title: The Bachelor Party Character(s): Negan x Reader x Simon...”

Damn!! Amazing! Superb! Love it! ❤❤ please let there be a part 2!

oh, it’s coming up ;) 

[rizlowwritessortof]

@cemmia reblogged your post and added:

Amazing story! Love it!

Seriously. The Sheriff is near and dear to my heart :) Thank you, sweetie!!

Back In the Saddle

[because-imma-lady-assface]

cemmia replied to your post: Girl Crush

Really liked it..

Thank you! This is one of my faves! :)